The ride home was silent and steady.
Warren did his best to console Ororo when she swam back to consciousness but she politely told him that she wished to be alone right now. He nodded his consent and settled back into his own seat, swearing to himself that he would approach her again when they were alone and they would discuss it then. Maybe not this night, but soon they would talk and he would comfort her.
The others were too consumed in their own ordeals to converse with the exception of Rogue, who diligently remained at Remy's side. Something had happened to him. She wasn't sure what, but something told her that that Arcade bastard did more than put her lover through a second-rate carnival trick. She settled close against him.
"You okay, Remy?"
He blinked and flashed her a grin. "'Course, chere. I'm perfect." He kissed her once. "Better dan perfect."
Whatever it was, he didn't feel like sharing, not yet anyway. Rogue kept herself busy by stroking his hair and sharing the occasional kiss. It kept her mind off... she shuddered with rage and stole a glance at Jean. No, there was a time and place for revenge. The Blackbird was neither.
**
The team settled quietly into the Briefing Room, Xavier sitting solemnly at the head of the long table, fingers steepled before his face.
"My X-Men, let me just start off by saying how proud and entirely grateful I am that you have all made it back to me safe." They exchanged glances and nods. Xavier continued. "I feel our best course of action right now would simply be rest and recovery, some more than others, I understand, so if you do not feel up to your training hours, please feel free to confront me and I will make any reasonable exceptions needed." Warren stole a sidelong glance at Ororo. She didn't meet his eyes, instead sitting tall and confident. Rogue fumbled for Remy's hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly.
"Who was he, Professor?" Scott asked, his voice the solid security he knew his team needed then.
Charles sighed. "Arcade works for another, much more dangerous mutant named Erik Lensherr, alias Magneto."
Wanda and Scott exchanged looks. "The same Erik Lensherr you went to school with?" She asked.
Xavier nodded gravely. "My past with Magneto has little to do with my focus now. He's an alpha-class mutant with the ability to control magnetic fields."
"What does he want with us?" Bobby questioned, his brows knitted in confusion.
"My attempts for human-mutant co-existence clash perfectly with his belief that mutants are superior to the human race. I am quite sure that this display of power was simply a warning. Arcade is not exactly powerful and Erik no doubt knows this. It is my assumption that Arcade's kidnapping attempt was to scare us and make him known to you." Charles shook his head sadly. Jean rested a consoling hand on his shoulder. Rogue bit back a snarl.
A bit more discussion before the professor suggested they all get some heavily needed rest. As the crowd dispersed, Jean tentatively approached where Rogue stood. 'If she even breathes on me, Ah sweah to Gawd...'
"Rogue?" Jean's voice was low so as not to draw attention to their conversation as the other's headed their various ways.
Rogue spun to face her, odium flashing in her pretty green eyes. "What?" She spat, causing the team to linger on their way out the door.
Jean's eyes widened. "Well... I was just... I was just wondering-"
Rogue clenched her teeth impatiently, prompting the words to fly out of Jean's mouth. "Well why did you hesitate when you saw me drowning in that tank, why? I saw you standing there and you stopped, like you were *considering* saving me or something!" Jean held her breath, hands balled in small fists by her side.
Rogue exploded, furious words gushing from her mouth. "Me? How dare you get on mah ass about anything, you two-timing, lying, butchah!" The team settled back into their spots, some ready to intervene if necessary and others just curious.
Jean brought a hand to her mouth. "Butcher? Wha-" breathless, she groped for words. Say something, God, anything! Rogue said something for her.
"Yeah, Ah know all about you shooting my fiancée point blank in the face, and how you murdered all those othah men! Yoah a fucking monstah and yoah going to hell, Miss Perfect."
Jean backed into a close wall and shook her head, eyes as wide as saucers and speechless. "No, not like this." She choked out. "You weren't supposed to find out-"
"Well Ah did find out, Jean. Ah know everything!"
"-like this! You weren't supposed to find out like this! I was going to tell you, Rogue, I swear I was." She found the breath and words that had been lodged in her throat. "Who... Who the hell told you? How did you find out?!" Her eyes darted around the room, pinning certain members of her team. She did her best to avoid Logan's furious and shocked glare.
Emma sank into her chair. "Well I sure as hell didn't."
Jean's knees grew weak, causing her to lean all the more heavily on the wall. "You knew?!"
Bobby swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he were elsewhere.
"Bobby told me," Emma finished.
Rogue's eyes pierced the younger Worthington, unable to mask the note of hurt in her voice. "Bobby, you knew! And you didn't tell me?" She faced Jean menacingly. "You've got a sick sense of humah. You told Bobby!"
Bobby squirmed. "I wasn't supposed to know, that's the thing."
Remy held his breath in his lungs, praying to Christ that for once Robert Worthington would keep his mouth shut. Christ had other intentions. "I heard Remy talking about it with Jean.
All air left both southerners' bodies. Rogue stumbled back two feet. "No," she breathed. "You didn't know, Remy... You didn't."
Remy was unable to meet the impossibly green eyes he was usually unable to resist. "I heard Jean and Cyclops talkin' about it." He shot Jean a glare. "I agreed not to say anyt'ing because she *swore* she'd tell you immediately and I t'ought it best you heard from her. She swore!" He gestured for Jean's backing and the redhead nodded sincerely.
Rogue held her hands up, ceasing their attempts. She could hear no more. "I don't fuckin' believe this." She snarled and stalked out of the Briefing Room. Remy stood to pursue.
"I wouldn't if I were you, Cajun. She's pissed; I can tell."
Remy silently narrowed his eyes on Logan. They held each other's gaze for a thick moment until Remy spun on his heel and followed after Rogue. Logan clenched his jaw before fleeing in the other direction. Jean hated to leave in the middle of what she'd gotten herself into, but she had to know. And Logan would know.
She slid from her seat and briskly walked after him, leaving a slack-jawed audience.
Scott caught the "where do you think you're going?" in his throat. No, it's her life. She can do whatever the hell she wants.
Warren piped. "Yo fearless. You knew about Jean and you never told us? I thought we were supposed to be your team, here. You're supposed to tell us what's going on, not leave us in the dark. Poor call, man." He laughed bitterly. "I mean, you'd look us all dead in the eye and lie for, what, hips and long hair?" He shoved his brother's shoulder, growing angrier. "And you too, boy. What the hell were you thinking, not telling anyone? What'd she do, get on her knees for you two?" Warren unconsciously bit his tongue, knowing immediately he had gone too far.
Scott shot from his seat. "How dare you! You have no idea what you're talking about. Jean and I are Just. Friends. You got that?"
Warren looked as if he were ready to retort when Ororo placed a gentle hand on his arm. He silenced immediately as she and Scott's eyes met.
Scott nearly bowed to those eyes; there was a look of pure, brutal understanding in those cloudy blue depths and he wasn't sure to be thankful or even more ashamed with himself.
Professor Xavier rested his hands flat on the conference table. "Warren, I understand your point of view entirely, but you must understand Jean's reasons for doing what she did."
"Well that's as good a place to start as any, Professor." Warren bit.
Xavier inhaled deeply. "Alright..."
**
"Logan! Logan wait, damn it!" He stalled in his pursuit and spun to face her, eyes brewing with rage and steely distrust.
"I suggest you make it fast, Jean, before I lose my temper." The chords in his neck protruded thickly. Jean swallowed fear and continued firmly.
"How did she find out?"
He shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"
Jean jabbed a finger at the Briefing Room down the hall. "No one in there ratted me out. She found out another way and I know you know how. Or at least have a pretty damned good idea."
"Who the hell are you to yell at me?" He hollered. "In case you've forgotten, you're the fucking liar around here!" His screaming visage was inches from her face. She flinched unwillingly.
"I know," she said weakly. "God I know, Logan, but please, try to understand! There's more to the story and I promise to tell you every last detail just please, tell me how Rogue found out. I've got to know."
Her eyes were big and pleading and Logan nearly slapped himself for almost giving in. Almost. "You don't gotta know shit. If you want to know something, I suggest you ask Rogue. Nicely." And with that, he brushed past her.
**
"Wanda, please don't be like this." Came Scott's voice, thin and tight.
She sat up and beat her pillow mercilessly under the pretense of fluffing it before replying, "What the hell, Scott? I don't even want to know what a slut like Jean Grey was doing talking with my husband about such personal matters."
Scott shifted his position so that he faced his wife fully. "How many times do I have to tell you? We're simply very close friends. When Jean confided in me about being the Heartbreaker, I trusted her to explain herself immediately to Rogue, but until then I was just being the open mind she needed right then."
Wanda stared at him with dark, glittering eyes. She looked as if she was ready to finally believe him; Scott swallowed guilt and seized the weak moment. "Really?" She asked innocently enough to make his heart sink.
"Of course," he fought for control of his voice.
She smiled. "Good." She settled back into her bed. "But no more of those private little discussions between the two of you, alright? After tonight Jean won't exactly be the mansion's most popular resident and we want to set an example." She smiled again and closed her eyes, inviting sleep to take her anywhere.
Scott lied awake, his conscience warring with his damnably weak heart. He'd never considered blatant lies to be his strong suit; perhaps Wanda was just gullible. 'No,' his thoughts lashed bitterly. 'She just trusts you the way a good wife trusts her husband.'
Scott squeezed his eyes closed tightly. He didn't hate Wanda. She wasn't... bad. But whatever was there when they were first married certainly no longer remained. Or maybe it did remain, but something else had appeared.
Or someone else.
Scott shook his head. He had a knack for picking the perfectly wrong ones. Wanda was selfish, spoiled, and shallow. But she was also confident, intelligent, and had been fighting for the dream just as long as he had.
And then there was the other redhead- damned, wicked harlot. Murderer. But that wasn't Jean, not really. He knew her bloodstained hands were a result of revenge, and Scott knew that revenge made the sound of fury ring through even the wisest man's ears. But did that excuse it?
He liked to think it did. After all, the *real* Jean, the Jean Grey he knew, was passionate, intellectual, imaginative, and truly kindhearted- as long as you haven't killed a member of her family. Analyze it all you wanted, but when it came down to it, Scott knew there had never been a fear struck through him than the fear he felt at seeing Jean's lifeless body floating in the tank, eyes grossly huge and lips shaded frosty.
Scott exhaled sharply. He could rationalize his reasons to hate Jean and love Wanda until he was blue in the face but the fact remained: Jean had him in her clutches and she showed no signs of turning him loose. But Scott was no animal and he knew that what he was doing to Wanda wasn't fair. She deserved better. Something would have to give. Soon.
**
At least Remy's incessant pounding on her bedroom door had ceased. He was starting to give Rogue a headache. She recalled his pleads.
"C'mon, chere, open up. We should talk. Rogue, for mercy's sake! I'm not leavin' until you open dis door!"
That was two-and-a-half hours ago. Thankfully, he must have left if the bellowing silence was any indication.
Rogue brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes and continued to shoot daggers at the mocking ceiling from where she lay on her bed, surrounded by throw pillows.
She was too hurt to be livid with Jean at the moment. Remy knew. Remy knew. She threw it around in her head until it echoed within every crevice. And Bobby. Her stomach turned. Both of them knew and she was the laughing center of the gossip ring.
And Scott, who the hell did soldier-boy think he was fooling? It was painfully obvious that he harbored some sort of favoritism for Jean. Rogue distinctly remembered him referring to she and Logan as slithering snakes when they were discovered. And what of Jean and her massacre? No biggie. She's giving me head so I'm going to let this one slide. Rogue flinched. No, she didn't know anything for sure, but sometimes she caught them sharing glances that were more than questionable. She'd have to ask Logan about it.
Rogue sighed disgustedly. Disgust at Jean. At Remy. At Bobby. At herself. It hadn't even been a year and she'd put her heart on the line for another man. At first, it was just touch with Remy. She craved the contact she had once been starved of and he'd been more than willing to oblige, and his embrace was warm and never meaningless or brusque.
After discovering his past, she'd decided almost immediately that it was over, despite how her screaming heart protested. But then he won her back, almost effortlessly, and Rogue thought herself to have seen another side of him that he reserved for her only: literature and intellect and burning zealous eyes. Before she knew what was what, he'd lodged himself firmly in her heart.
Rogue scoffed. 'Damn.'
Then she would just have to find a way to pry him out, now wouldn't she?
"Who was Ah kiddin'?" She mumbled. "Ah can't trust people. He was a mistake."
**
Outside of her room, Remy slept soundly in the hallway, back against her door, arms folded across his chest.
His eyes opened immediately when he sensed Ororo approach. She halted and looked down at him with a disappointed frown.
"I don't need dat," he said simply, not in the mood for another brawl against a woman with a hell of a temper.
She shook her head, beautiful pure white strands dangling against her skin. "You *need* someone to steal you in your left eye."
Remy met her eyes solemnly. "I need advice."
Ororo pondered this and finally nodded, kneeling beside him and tilting her head to regard him. "Like any woman, she will need time to recover. You must give her that space that she is longing for before trying to smuggle yourself back into it."
He nodded slowly. "How long will it take, you t'ink?"
"That is a decision that is in Rogue's hands entirely. No one can decide for her." Storm then added sharply, "It is even her decision never to forgive you at all."
He clamped a hand over her mouth. "Speak of de devil, chere! You tryin' to jinx Remy?"
She smiled with her blazing blue eyes and he removed his hand before standing, assisting her to her feet as well. "Maybe you're right. Okay, okay, I give your way a try, but if it don't work, I still never take no for an answer."
Storm nodded. "As you wish, Remy. I am not the one to stop you."
**
Ororo heard Warren's approaching footsteps. He knocked tentatively and from her bed she told him that the door was open. He peeked inside and immediately smiled sheepishly in a mildly adorable way.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt if you were resting or an-"
"Warren, I told you the door was open." She patted the space beside her and smiled sweetly.
His lips curled slightly and he closed the door behind him before slowly taking a seat on the edge. His massive wings expanded behind him in two sheets of downy feather. He peered down into her beautiful eyes intently. "Ororo, I don't know what else to do. I know how you must feel after what happened. Is there anything I can do? Anything?" He recalled her lifeless body in Logan's arms as they fled, hoping to pull back before a bomb sent the house into a million flying pieces. She was too weak to stand and he and Logan had done their best to persuade her weak protests about boarding the plane.
"I don't want to go in there," she had muttered feebly and Warren's heart did a painful twist inside his chest. "Don't take me inside of that plane."
"C'mon, darlin'. We gotta move," came Logan's words, rushed and panicked as if he could hear the looming tick-tick-tick of the explosives.
That was when Warren suggested they give her a sedative immediately if she chose. Ororo obliged and made sure the task was carried out as soon as they entered the aircraft.
"Penny for your thoughts," Ororo said from where she laid. Warren turned to meet those magnificent blue eyes.
"Not even worth a penny." His shoulders slumped and he asked her a second time, his voice low and significant. "If there's *anything* I can do, Ororo, anything at all, just say the words and I am right here." His finger stabbed the mattress beneath him. "Right here," he repeated for emphasis.
Ororo's face was earnest and beautiful at once. "I ask only one thing of you, Warren." He nodded. She held her thin arms up. "Just hold me. Stay with me for now."
Warren needed no second invitation. He dipped gratefully into her embrace and held the hug for a long time. After they could feel their heartbeats pound together to the same steady rhythm, Warren shifted positions so he was beside her for fear of squishing her. She rested her head on his chest and he buried his face in her platinum locks, stroking her arms and loving every second of her touch.
Warren woke with a start, momentarily forgetting where he was until he felt the gentle weight of her arms across his chest. They'd fallen asleep with the bedside light on, their bodies meshed together comfortably. Warren felt her shallow breathing against his side and he sighed, blissful and content. Her eyelids fluttered open and she yawned.
"What time is it?" She mumbled, groggy.
He peered over her head at the clock. "Almost two A.M." She sighed heavily and burrowed into his body. There was a brief pause.
"Something wrong, Warren?" She asked.
He shrugged slightly. "Just thinking." He faced her. "I guess I'm still irked about that whole Jean thing. I mean, it's bad enough she didn't come clean but I can't stand the fact that Scott lied! He's supposed to be our team leader, for Christ's sake. And my brother," Warren made a frustrated sound akin to disgust. "What the *hell* was that fool thinking? And Xavier!" Warren's face was flushed red as he seethed. "Don't you agree? Am I crazy for thinking this way?"
Ororo stroked his chest, pausing thoughtfully before responding. She had hoped to stay out of the entire confrontation, but if it upset her lover, she could at least indulge him with her opinion. "I do not know Jean extremely well, but I do know she is a good person at heart. It is my belief that whatever Jean did was the result of desperation."
"I guess so," he huffed, his fine mouth drooping ever so slightly into a most becoming frown.
"Warren, I have always known that your wealth has never kept you deprived from the real world; why are you being so narrow-minded about this?"
He would have taken immediate offense, and action, had it been anyone other than this woman. "I just don't agree with murder."
After a while, the couple decided to just agree to disagree and they left the issue at that lest it should escalate, which neither of them was particularly keen on happening.
Angel cleared his throat. "There's, uh, something I wanted to ask you. I didn't really think this... would be a good night, but..."
Ororo knitted her brows and propped herself on an elbow to regard him. "What is it?"
"Well I was just thinking... you know Bobby, well you know how he loves to run his mouth." He laughed sourly. "Well, he's been running his mouth off to our mother and father about you, how you're so wonderful and this and that," he grinned, "Which you are! Don't get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying."
Ororo's eyes twinkled like clear-cut diamonds. "What *are* you saying, Mr. Worthington?"
He sighed, defeated. "They want to meet you. Really badly, actually, and I promised them I would ask you about it."
The African native nodded and Warren waited for a response. He was worried, to say the least, well aware of her previous experience with Wanda's parents and the very idea of 'meeting the parents' was traditionally a huge step in a relationship, one he did not want to pressure her into making and certainly did not want to scare her off with.
"No pressure!" He said suddenly. "Only if you want to."
She held his gaze. "I will seriously consider it. For you." She kissed him and the blonde billionaire suddenly couldn't remember which way was up.
**
Jean considered wallowing in self-pity in the secrecy, and safety, of her own room, far and clear from the wrath of a certain southerner. But if the Heartbreaker was one thing, it was damned stubborn.
She knocked on the door and he answered almost immediately- had probably smelt her coming.
Wolverine swung the door open and already his brows were furrowed as it was all he could do to keep from literally growling. "What the hell do you want, Jean?" He said slow and menacingly.
She didn't need this shit. Gathering her courage, she straightened and stalked past him into his room. While he slammed the door behind her, she turned to face him confidently. "A few things, Logan." He perked an eyebrow. "But mainly one: how the hell did Rogue find out about me? I know you know and you're going to tell me before I leave this room."
Well, that was subtle. She swallowed hard, hoping he didn't curse her to hell upon throwing her out. He did not. He stood, arms folded against his ribs and leaning on the back of his door. He regarded her coolly. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you a damned thing? I don't correspond with backstabbing murderers."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, *your* past is squeaky clean. How foolish of me." She slapped her forehead in one unceremonious gesture.
"I never said that, but you dig as deep as you want with your little connections, your cronies will never find an account where I betray my team- not a one."
Jean balled her fists. "She wasn't on my team when I did it! I didn't even know her, believe me, if I had..." her voice trailed but her eyes still flashed an angry azure. Slowly, she calmed like waves subsiding to a sandy shore's embrace. "I'm only going to ask it one more time," she said shortly, her lips thinning into a tight line. Logan cocked his head in amusement but he remained silent and planted at the door. His eyes widened when she almost snarled. This woman had a temper like hell's fury. Heh, shoulda known. Redheads. Can't live with 'em, can not live without 'em.
He was unprepared for the telekinetic shove, pinning his spine against the door behind him, but he wasn't about to let her know that. "What is this, Red?" He asked, cursing himself for being more than a little turned on.
Jean was not feeling up to games or runarounds, not tonight. She wanted one answer and damned if she left without it. She neared him and came dangerously close to his face, her voice as serious as sin. "Do I have to remind you that I killed four men point blank, shot them in the head from not even this far away? Do you know the look in a man's eyes just before his blood and brain is splattered all over your face?" She paused for a long time. "I think you do, Wolverine. Tell me how Rogue found out."
He held her level glare for a moment. He wasn't afraid, she may be gutsy but she wasn't that gutsy, or heartless, but he did feel a small swell of something at her threat. Despite the venom in her tone, it was really a confession. Jean was really a good kid and he knew she'd undoubtedly spent many a night tossing and turning in her sleep, begging forgiveness to her Great God for her sins. He felt respect? Pity? Empathy? The answer was yes, he knew the look in a man's eyes just before his life ended. Knew it well.
Jean released him and staggered back, a tad weak. She rose pleading eyes to him and he only held her gaze. She stepped into him and he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, stroking her head soothingly.
She wasn't crying, but he could hear the emotion choke in her voice. "Does it ever get any easier? Or does it haunt you... haunt you forever?"
He shook his head, her mass of red tangles surrounding his face. "It should never get easier. That's when you're not human. That's when you're the one we're here to fight."
Jean lifted from his shoulder and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she gestured, embarrassed. He shrugged it off.
"Rogue has another power she chose not to disclose immediately for reasons that are, understandably, her own. She has the ability to absorb others thoughts, feelings, personality, powers, anything with physical contact. She must have made some contact with you after we were gassed and before we were divided. That's the only thing I can think of."
Jean's eyes darted around the room as memories came flooding through her. She was falling to her knees and to the floor as the gas filled her lungs. She was being hauled off. She was being hurled into a... box? Chest? Coffin? Something small and beside Rogue, who was clad in the doll dress the team had found her in.
"How have we never noticed it before?" Jean said, feeling guilty for talking about Rogue again behind her back but knowing it was essential.
"Rogue has positive control over it unless she's unconscious. She doesn't like to flash it in the papers because some people don't take to kindly to the idea."
"I'm sure Remy would understand."
"But how the hell is she supposed to know that?" He snapped. Jean pursed her mouth.
"I'm sorry," she said but unsure why. "So what made you decide to tell me this?" She asked softly.
He shrugged. "You had a right to know. Just like Rogue had a right to know about you killing her fiancée. But two wrongs don't make a... right.
**
Rogue hurled a left hook at the defenseless punching bag. It swung on its small chain and she hit it again. And again.
Fuckin' bastard Remy for not tellin' me. Make me the fool.
And again.
Bobby gossiping like a fuckin' woman behind my back. And he's supposed to *care* about me.
And again.
And Emma.
And again.
And Xaviah.
And again.
And that conniving little bitch, Jean. Again, harder this time. Rogue couldn't picture strawberry shortcake Jeannie holding a gun to her Caleb's face and pulling the trigger.
Disgusted with the cooperative punching bag, Rogue stalked out of the gym, the doors slamming satisfyingly behind her.
**
Jean left Logan's room soon after. She should have felt better. Now she knew. But she felt worse. What the hell was Rogue thinking, not telling anyone about the full potential of her powers? She really could have gotten someone hurt! Jean didn't know if it was that or the fact that Xavier had kept it from her that made her angrier, and hurt. He had to have known. He knew everything about everyone that lived in his home. She decided, selfishly enough but she didn't care, that she didn't like being on the receiving end of Xavier's deception. What else did that man know?
"Oooph!" Jean cried as she ran into someone stomping as fast as she. A pair of pretty, equally angry eyes met and the sky loomed above in warning. This was it.
"Watch where yoah goin'!" Rogue screeched, hopping at the opportunity to pick a fight with this particular person.
"You!" Jean retorted, only happy to oblige.
Rogue's green eyes widened, this Jean being very different from the one begging her for forgiveness in the Briefing Room. "Who the hell do you think yoah talking to, Heartbreakah?" She spat the last word like arsenic.
Jean rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh don't give me that. Apparently I'm not the only one spouting lies around here. When were you gonna tell Remy about your *other* little power, hmm? After a mistake happened and he winds up dead in your arms?"
Rogue's face contorted furiously. "How the hell did you find out about that?"
"Well, well, well. My how the tables have turned, now haven't they?"
"Shut-up!" Rogue screeched.
"Make me," Jean shot. She wasn't prepared for and thus thrown into a far wall by Rogue's lunging attack. Jean's body was slammed securely into the hall wall two feet above the ground and Rogue hovering to keep her face level while she pinned the redhead back.
"Ah can't even believe you have the nerve to compare my lies to yoahs!" Rogue hollered only inches from her opponent's face.
Jean threw Rogue off her with a telekinetic shove, sending Rogue flying back until the southerner stopped herself in mid-air. "I made one mistake and I regret it like hell, but you didn't just lie once and beg forgiveness, you lied once and begged forgiveness and now you're lying *again*! How many more secrets you got buried in that head of yours, Rogue? How many other people's lives are you living?" Jean's voice was almost a shout now. "Don't give me that holier than thou crap. You're a fucking vampire!" Jean threw Rogue back again but she was prepared this time, making an immediate counter attack. She backhanded Jean into another wall.
"Yoah just trying to get me to feel like hell so Ah'll fohget you evah killed my fiancée. Don't try that shit with me!"
Jean erected a telekinetic shield around her presence and then another, stronger telepathic shield flaring gold and claret around the both of them should anyone stumble upon them and get it in their heads to interrupt their long-time-coming battle. "How dare you bring that whole fiancée issue up like it meant anything to you! Need I remind you of your jumping right into bed with our resident Cajun or did that slip your cluttered mind? Your fiancée, give me a break!"
Rogue was both infuriated and incredulous at once, her control slipping through her fingers. She soared through the air and tried to attack Jean again, but was fended off by the telepath's shield and bounced back with her own inertia. She bolted to a standing position. "You think that excuses what you did? Snap out of yoah rationalizations and face the consequences. Yoah a lying killer."
Jean lunged at Rogue. The two women positioned the other's throats between their hands as they elevated six feet above the plush carpet. "Caleb was a killer!" Jean screeched, tightening her hands when Rogue's tightened. "A cold-blooded, mafia hit man whether you want to believe it or not. You just can't face the reality that you, an elite member of the Opal Meridian, were living with a sleezy gangster!"
The breath left Rogue's body in one giant gust. No, it couldn't be. Not the Caleb she knew and loved. Loved. Unconsciously, her grip tightened around the lily white of Jean Grey's neck. She recalled strangling the life from one of Arcade's henchmen.
Jean's eyes flashed across from her. Had she caught that fleeting thought? Rogue gulped. Had she been projecting it?
"Blame me for my bloody past, Rogue, sure. Have *you* ever felt another man's life drain at your fingertips?"
Both women were becoming increasingly dizzy from the other's assaults, their weakened state causing them to drop almost a whole four feet.
"You have, haven't you? You know what else I think? You're a fucking hypocrite!" Jean screeched.
Scott, Wanda, and Wolverine appeared in the hallway, the curious eyes of Bobby and Emma close on their heels.
"Ladies, stop it!" Scott shouted above their quarrel but they were oblivious to anything but their own seething, black rage. Scott attempted to intervene but was slammed back by the pure force of Jean's mental bars protecting their combat.
Between muttered curses, Jean and Rogue thrashed and kicked at each other, never losing their grip on the other woman's neck. Beads of sweat popped on their smooth foreheads and their eyes remained locked, piercing each other with blind hatred.
Xavier's wheelchair appeared around the hall seconds later followed closely by Warren and Ororo. He rushed to where his team was gathered, watching in sickened fear. Upon seeing two of his respected team members engaged in combat, his jaw dropped while anger and disappointment flashed through his oil black eyes.
"Stop this!" His voice bellowed as a psychic slam disabled the two women and sent them collapsing to the floor, clutching their heads. "What in God's name is the meaning of this?" He demanded, his eyes roaming the dented walls and disheveled women with gaping disbelief. Both Jean and Rogue were silent and seeing he would get no answers from them just now, even after deliberate prompting, he warned them that any further fights as such would result in their immediate dismissal from his home.
Heads bowed in shame and feeling much like teenaged girls, both women stood and, after a final piercing glare at each other, headed to their separate rooms.
**
When she was with the girls, it was mint chocolate chip, but with her best pal Logan, it was Coors all the way. She popped the can and settled into the Lay-Z Boy in her room.
He raised his own silver bullet. "Cheers," he growled before swallowing a considerable portion.
Rogue downed the drink in record time and gave a satisfying belch. Fuck lady-like. That was always one thing she liked about Logan. With Remy- wherever the hell he'd disappeared to for the night- it was always silk and lace, but here with her long time partner and friend, it was an oversized tee-shirt and dirty white socks.
He fiddled with his can tab for a minute before clearing his throat. "I know there ain't no sense in hiding the fact that I told Jean about your powers. I didn't know she'd go all berserk. Real sorry about that, Dixie."
Rogue contemplated her reaction before promptly shrugging. "Fohget about it. The bitch woulda found out soonah or latah anyways." Another swig, because she deserved it. "You couldn't help it." She added casually.
Wolverine perked an eyebrow. "What are you playin' at, Mississippi?"
She grinned, but sadly enough, it was bitter. "Ah may be a tad outta practice, but Ah can still spot a few things. Like those eyes you've got for Jean, Ah can still see that."
He shook his head but decided against protesting. He knew a dead end when he saw it. "I know, it's fucking humiliating." He paused and added. "But hey, you know that no matter what, I always got your back, right? Always."
Rogue shook her head. "Yoah human, Wolverine. It is mah firm belief that everyone's heart has a mind of it's own, even if yoahs isn't the smartest one in the world." She winked.
He shook his head. "Can't argue with ya' there."
"Can't argue with me anywhere." She scrunched her eyebrows. "Where the hell is Remy? Ah just know he'll be mad as a swarm of hornets when he finds out what I did... and what he missed."
Logan nodded and raised his fourth Coors, gesturing for her to do likewise. "To stupid hearts."
"Stupid hearts."
**
HARRY'S POV
Of all those Xavier guys up in that big old house, this kid was the last one I would have expected to see here drowning his sorrows with some of my cheapest drink.
You see, I'm a watcher. I see all kinds of things here in my bar. Just from my sitting back and keeping my eyes peeled, I know that that Summers kid is having a hell of a time right now, what with having to pretend he isn't in love with that redheaded girl while being married to the *other* redheaded girl. Confusing, I know, but it gets better. While Summers is loving Redhead Number One, the Logan fellow is pining over her just as bad. Warren, killing himself trying to play suave and cool with that Aurora woman, or however you say her name- too fine for this old ratty tongue. And Bobby-boy, poor chap, saw that heartbreak coming from a mile away when he laid eyes on that southern belle.
And that's only a little bit of it. I've seen some amazing things this side of the United States- good or bad, it's bound to come through this bar at least once.
But this kid, this French playboy, I thought for sure he had it made. Looked to me like he finally had Miss. Mississippi after all that hard work. Shows what I *really* know I guess, 'cause here he is downing one after the other.
"Something on your mind, fella?" I ask casually. Don't want to make it sound too personal. He'll tell me if he wants. No big deal either way.
He looks up with a small smile, just trying to be nice, I know. He's about to say no, but he stops for some reason. "Ever been in love?"
I got to chuckle at that one. "Sure, every pair of long legs and big eyes that walks in here and I'm in love."
That gets a real laugh out of him, even though it wasn't exactly a side buster but I think he just needs a laugh. I stop polishing my bar for a second and stare him dead in the eye.
"Listen, kid. It ain't goin' great now, but it'll get better." I pause. "Whatever it is, I know it'll get better. She'll come around." He smiles and I take that as a sign to give him some time to think it over. When I turn back around, he's gone, a crisp ten under one of his empty bottles.
**
Rogue was getting a bit tipsy, so he ushered her into bed and headed downstairs for the kitchen. Just because his partner didn't have a healing factor didn't mean he couldn't take advantage of it. If you've got it, flaunt it, he thought.
He smelt Summers before he even stepped through the kitchen archway. He was alone and apparently digging through a cabinet for something.
Wolverine sauntered in, dipping down to the refrigerator to fish for a beer. The two men were silent at first.
Scott huffed gratefully when he finally retrieved a small bottle marked 'Tylenol.'
"Headache?" Logan asked as he pried back the bottle cap.
Scott nodded and prepared himself a glass of water. "Yeah."
"Not getting enough sleep." His tone was slightly mocking, almost challenging. In all honesty, Wolverine was in the mood for a fight and though he knew Scott would never let himself be baited as such, he couldn't help but give it a shot.
Scott shrugged. "Maybe." He met Logan's eyes wearily before tossing the pills onto his tongue and swallowing the water in two large gulps. He poured the cup and left it in the sink, turning on his heel to leave.
"Yeah, go to bed," Wolverine piped and then added sharply, "with your wife."
Scott froze in the doorway for an instant. He looked back at Logan's challenging glare but knew he could say nothing.
**
Scott credited himself for at least attempting to head back to his own room and try to get some sleep, but the detour was, in a word, inevitable. But it wasn't to make love this time, oh no. He was at her door to give her a piece of his mind.
He knocked hard, twice. He heard the bed creak and he assumed he'd probably dragged her out of bed, but not out of slumber. There's no way she'd be able to sleep so peacefully after tonight. Hell, even he knew he'd have trouble and it wasn't even his fight. But Scott was a person that took the problems of his team as his problems, too.
The door sung open and he took in her appearance. White cotton nightgown frumpy and crinkled, no doubt from her incessant tossing and turning, and her hair a wild red mess on her head and past her shoulders. Her eyes were dull but gleaming as if she'd recently cried, which Scott figured she probably had.
"Can I come in?" He asked.
She cocked her head in confusion. "I thought you were never speaking to me again," she taunted.
"I never said that," he said shortly. "I only want to talk." He annunciated the last sentence perfectly so she knew precisely why he was at her door, just in case she was getting any crazy ideas. Not so crazy a few weeks ago, were they Summers? Scott silenced the nagging voice ringing between his ears.
Jean stepped back and allotted him entrance. Once inside, she closed the door with a soft click behind him. He turned and saw her planted a few feet from her door, her posture unsure and timid. She must have caught the vibe that he wasn't here for another one of their silly little midnight flings but to really talk, or rather, discuss.
"What is it?" She asked quietly.
Scott sighed, his shoulders dropping considerably. He commenced pacing and ran a hand through his ginger thick hair. Finally he stopped and looked at her directly. "Did you tell Logan about us?"
Jean looked as if taken by surprise, which made relief balloon inside Scott before it was stabbed with a needle of truth. "No," she said uncertainly.
"No? So he has no idea about..." he gestured at the air between them. "You know, us?"
Her head shot up. "There is no 'us,' remember? You've suddenly decided to grow a conscience."
Jean could tell he was rolling his eyes by the incline of his head. "Don't start all that. Just answer the question: Does Wolverine know about our affair?"
She inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the explosion. "Yes."
Scott buried both hands in his hair and gritted his teeth, fighting for control. "How?" He asked simply.
"After the first time, he smelt it... on me, I guess."
"The fir-!" Scott peered around the room as if a hidden camera lurked in the shadows. "The first time! Are you serious? Why didn't you tell me!?" His voice was thin and rising. She put both hands in front of her and gestured for him to calm down.
"What Logan and I talk about has nothing to do with you."
His eyes grew large and maddened behind the ruby quartz. "Nothing to do... Oh my God. What is the matter with you?! I face ten times the consequences you do if the affair was ever discovered and it has nothing to do with me? I don't believe this!" He felt weak and so sank onto her plush canopy bed, rubbing his hands on his knees in a frantic thinking method.
"Ten times the consequences! How dare you. I agree, you're the one with a wife, but do you know the humiliation and shame and filth I would feel? I'd be the cheap, trashy *other* woman! It almost amounts to the *regret* I feel now for having slept with you in the first place!"
With her minimally practiced telepathy, she felt his heart sink a little at her piercing words. Behind his visor, she knew he blinked, astonished at her venomous lashings. He closed his gaping mouth immediately though and pretended it had never affected him, but it was too late. She had felt it. And now felt utterly terrible for having said it.
"Oh Scott," she said, taking a seat beside him on the bed, "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."
He jerked from her soft touch on his shoulder. "Don't touch me," he said, his eyes focused forward and jaw hard.
Slightly taken aback but realizing she shouldn't be, Jean swallowed and tried again. She placed a hand on his forearm this time and dared to scoot closer to his tense form. "I'm serious, Scott. It was mean and... it wasn't true."
"I said don't touch me," he said again, but didn't yank himself away which she took as a good sign.
Scott's heart beat furiously in his chest and for that, he damned himself. All right, so he would stay and make amends for his wrongs and leave. No use ending their brief relationship with hateful words. "Jean, I'm sorry it has to end like this, but I should really go," he meant to say, but instead all that came out was a weak sigh to her hand traveling up his arm and through his hair. He unwillingly tipped his head back and flowed with her movements but promptly stopped and faced forward again.
Jean straightened, defiant now and wanting very badly to hold him. But she knew Scott, knew him well, and he wasn't the type to throw caution to the wind and just kiss a woman in the throes of a heated moment. She had to ease him into it. She wanted to ease him into it; she wanted him. Sure in that one thing now, she was going to use any means necessary to get him. Even if it meant playing dirty.
She climbed to her knees beside him and he turned to face her. "What do you think you're doing? Jean, I'm sorry but I thought I made it clear that I can't do this."
"Why?" She asked softly, resting her hands on his shoulders and looking into the reflective glass of his visor with big questioning eyes that made his tongue grow wet.
"God Jean, don't do this." He protested, almost begged. The sound of her name off his lips made her want even more.
"Why?" She persisted.
"Because... it's not... right." He breathed as she dipped down until their faces were almost touching. Her scent was overpowering and he hated to admit that he had longed for that aroma of her red curls, warm breath, velvety skin.
"This isn't right?" She asked, nearing her cheek to his to drag her tongue across the shell of his ear. He guided her back before she could.
"No, it's not. It's wrong because, because of Wanda."
Jean sighed. "Wanda." She repeated flatly before touching her forehead to his chin. She just couldn't be face to face with him when she approached the subject that had kept her awake many a night. "I vaguely remember you saying that you loved me that time you cornered me in the Blackbird. Are you a liar, or what?"
His breath left him sharply. "Wha-? No, not a liar. I just..." She stopped nibbling his chin and sat back.
"You just what?"
"I do... I do love you. God, why? Why do you make me?" He hated the sound of his own voice, desperate and weak, never the voice of a leader. But he didn't think leader or strategy or consequence when she was so close to him like this, her lips playing on his and in his arms. He didn't think at all. Just felt, felt pure, raw emotion coursing through his veins and all centered on her. He decided that it was because she was this total other end of the spectrum for him that he loved her. He had loved Wanda because she fit perfectly into his dutiful, practical, intelligent life. He loved Jean because she was... Jean.
Wordlessly, he let her wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him sweetly. His hands rose to her hips as she slowly guided him down across the length of her bed, straddling his waist and tugging off her nightgown.
Just as beautiful as he remembered her. "God," he murmured when she fell back to him so that he could kiss her and entangle his fingers in her long hair, feeling the strands dance on his collarbone and tickle his skin.
**
Wanda lied awake in their bed, content and knowing. As long as he's lying, he's mine, and I can live with that. I've been playing 'pretend the world is perfect' for as long as I can remember.
Scott's wife thought about what she'd do if he ever gathered the courage to pour the truth on her: the awkwardness, the gossip, her parents, her friends, the utter humiliation. She shuddered, shoving the unthinkable thought to the back of her mind.
Lie to me and I'll be satisfied.
Warren did his best to console Ororo when she swam back to consciousness but she politely told him that she wished to be alone right now. He nodded his consent and settled back into his own seat, swearing to himself that he would approach her again when they were alone and they would discuss it then. Maybe not this night, but soon they would talk and he would comfort her.
The others were too consumed in their own ordeals to converse with the exception of Rogue, who diligently remained at Remy's side. Something had happened to him. She wasn't sure what, but something told her that that Arcade bastard did more than put her lover through a second-rate carnival trick. She settled close against him.
"You okay, Remy?"
He blinked and flashed her a grin. "'Course, chere. I'm perfect." He kissed her once. "Better dan perfect."
Whatever it was, he didn't feel like sharing, not yet anyway. Rogue kept herself busy by stroking his hair and sharing the occasional kiss. It kept her mind off... she shuddered with rage and stole a glance at Jean. No, there was a time and place for revenge. The Blackbird was neither.
**
The team settled quietly into the Briefing Room, Xavier sitting solemnly at the head of the long table, fingers steepled before his face.
"My X-Men, let me just start off by saying how proud and entirely grateful I am that you have all made it back to me safe." They exchanged glances and nods. Xavier continued. "I feel our best course of action right now would simply be rest and recovery, some more than others, I understand, so if you do not feel up to your training hours, please feel free to confront me and I will make any reasonable exceptions needed." Warren stole a sidelong glance at Ororo. She didn't meet his eyes, instead sitting tall and confident. Rogue fumbled for Remy's hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly.
"Who was he, Professor?" Scott asked, his voice the solid security he knew his team needed then.
Charles sighed. "Arcade works for another, much more dangerous mutant named Erik Lensherr, alias Magneto."
Wanda and Scott exchanged looks. "The same Erik Lensherr you went to school with?" She asked.
Xavier nodded gravely. "My past with Magneto has little to do with my focus now. He's an alpha-class mutant with the ability to control magnetic fields."
"What does he want with us?" Bobby questioned, his brows knitted in confusion.
"My attempts for human-mutant co-existence clash perfectly with his belief that mutants are superior to the human race. I am quite sure that this display of power was simply a warning. Arcade is not exactly powerful and Erik no doubt knows this. It is my assumption that Arcade's kidnapping attempt was to scare us and make him known to you." Charles shook his head sadly. Jean rested a consoling hand on his shoulder. Rogue bit back a snarl.
A bit more discussion before the professor suggested they all get some heavily needed rest. As the crowd dispersed, Jean tentatively approached where Rogue stood. 'If she even breathes on me, Ah sweah to Gawd...'
"Rogue?" Jean's voice was low so as not to draw attention to their conversation as the other's headed their various ways.
Rogue spun to face her, odium flashing in her pretty green eyes. "What?" She spat, causing the team to linger on their way out the door.
Jean's eyes widened. "Well... I was just... I was just wondering-"
Rogue clenched her teeth impatiently, prompting the words to fly out of Jean's mouth. "Well why did you hesitate when you saw me drowning in that tank, why? I saw you standing there and you stopped, like you were *considering* saving me or something!" Jean held her breath, hands balled in small fists by her side.
Rogue exploded, furious words gushing from her mouth. "Me? How dare you get on mah ass about anything, you two-timing, lying, butchah!" The team settled back into their spots, some ready to intervene if necessary and others just curious.
Jean brought a hand to her mouth. "Butcher? Wha-" breathless, she groped for words. Say something, God, anything! Rogue said something for her.
"Yeah, Ah know all about you shooting my fiancée point blank in the face, and how you murdered all those othah men! Yoah a fucking monstah and yoah going to hell, Miss Perfect."
Jean backed into a close wall and shook her head, eyes as wide as saucers and speechless. "No, not like this." She choked out. "You weren't supposed to find out-"
"Well Ah did find out, Jean. Ah know everything!"
"-like this! You weren't supposed to find out like this! I was going to tell you, Rogue, I swear I was." She found the breath and words that had been lodged in her throat. "Who... Who the hell told you? How did you find out?!" Her eyes darted around the room, pinning certain members of her team. She did her best to avoid Logan's furious and shocked glare.
Emma sank into her chair. "Well I sure as hell didn't."
Jean's knees grew weak, causing her to lean all the more heavily on the wall. "You knew?!"
Bobby swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he were elsewhere.
"Bobby told me," Emma finished.
Rogue's eyes pierced the younger Worthington, unable to mask the note of hurt in her voice. "Bobby, you knew! And you didn't tell me?" She faced Jean menacingly. "You've got a sick sense of humah. You told Bobby!"
Bobby squirmed. "I wasn't supposed to know, that's the thing."
Remy held his breath in his lungs, praying to Christ that for once Robert Worthington would keep his mouth shut. Christ had other intentions. "I heard Remy talking about it with Jean.
All air left both southerners' bodies. Rogue stumbled back two feet. "No," she breathed. "You didn't know, Remy... You didn't."
Remy was unable to meet the impossibly green eyes he was usually unable to resist. "I heard Jean and Cyclops talkin' about it." He shot Jean a glare. "I agreed not to say anyt'ing because she *swore* she'd tell you immediately and I t'ought it best you heard from her. She swore!" He gestured for Jean's backing and the redhead nodded sincerely.
Rogue held her hands up, ceasing their attempts. She could hear no more. "I don't fuckin' believe this." She snarled and stalked out of the Briefing Room. Remy stood to pursue.
"I wouldn't if I were you, Cajun. She's pissed; I can tell."
Remy silently narrowed his eyes on Logan. They held each other's gaze for a thick moment until Remy spun on his heel and followed after Rogue. Logan clenched his jaw before fleeing in the other direction. Jean hated to leave in the middle of what she'd gotten herself into, but she had to know. And Logan would know.
She slid from her seat and briskly walked after him, leaving a slack-jawed audience.
Scott caught the "where do you think you're going?" in his throat. No, it's her life. She can do whatever the hell she wants.
Warren piped. "Yo fearless. You knew about Jean and you never told us? I thought we were supposed to be your team, here. You're supposed to tell us what's going on, not leave us in the dark. Poor call, man." He laughed bitterly. "I mean, you'd look us all dead in the eye and lie for, what, hips and long hair?" He shoved his brother's shoulder, growing angrier. "And you too, boy. What the hell were you thinking, not telling anyone? What'd she do, get on her knees for you two?" Warren unconsciously bit his tongue, knowing immediately he had gone too far.
Scott shot from his seat. "How dare you! You have no idea what you're talking about. Jean and I are Just. Friends. You got that?"
Warren looked as if he were ready to retort when Ororo placed a gentle hand on his arm. He silenced immediately as she and Scott's eyes met.
Scott nearly bowed to those eyes; there was a look of pure, brutal understanding in those cloudy blue depths and he wasn't sure to be thankful or even more ashamed with himself.
Professor Xavier rested his hands flat on the conference table. "Warren, I understand your point of view entirely, but you must understand Jean's reasons for doing what she did."
"Well that's as good a place to start as any, Professor." Warren bit.
Xavier inhaled deeply. "Alright..."
**
"Logan! Logan wait, damn it!" He stalled in his pursuit and spun to face her, eyes brewing with rage and steely distrust.
"I suggest you make it fast, Jean, before I lose my temper." The chords in his neck protruded thickly. Jean swallowed fear and continued firmly.
"How did she find out?"
He shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"
Jean jabbed a finger at the Briefing Room down the hall. "No one in there ratted me out. She found out another way and I know you know how. Or at least have a pretty damned good idea."
"Who the hell are you to yell at me?" He hollered. "In case you've forgotten, you're the fucking liar around here!" His screaming visage was inches from her face. She flinched unwillingly.
"I know," she said weakly. "God I know, Logan, but please, try to understand! There's more to the story and I promise to tell you every last detail just please, tell me how Rogue found out. I've got to know."
Her eyes were big and pleading and Logan nearly slapped himself for almost giving in. Almost. "You don't gotta know shit. If you want to know something, I suggest you ask Rogue. Nicely." And with that, he brushed past her.
**
"Wanda, please don't be like this." Came Scott's voice, thin and tight.
She sat up and beat her pillow mercilessly under the pretense of fluffing it before replying, "What the hell, Scott? I don't even want to know what a slut like Jean Grey was doing talking with my husband about such personal matters."
Scott shifted his position so that he faced his wife fully. "How many times do I have to tell you? We're simply very close friends. When Jean confided in me about being the Heartbreaker, I trusted her to explain herself immediately to Rogue, but until then I was just being the open mind she needed right then."
Wanda stared at him with dark, glittering eyes. She looked as if she was ready to finally believe him; Scott swallowed guilt and seized the weak moment. "Really?" She asked innocently enough to make his heart sink.
"Of course," he fought for control of his voice.
She smiled. "Good." She settled back into her bed. "But no more of those private little discussions between the two of you, alright? After tonight Jean won't exactly be the mansion's most popular resident and we want to set an example." She smiled again and closed her eyes, inviting sleep to take her anywhere.
Scott lied awake, his conscience warring with his damnably weak heart. He'd never considered blatant lies to be his strong suit; perhaps Wanda was just gullible. 'No,' his thoughts lashed bitterly. 'She just trusts you the way a good wife trusts her husband.'
Scott squeezed his eyes closed tightly. He didn't hate Wanda. She wasn't... bad. But whatever was there when they were first married certainly no longer remained. Or maybe it did remain, but something else had appeared.
Or someone else.
Scott shook his head. He had a knack for picking the perfectly wrong ones. Wanda was selfish, spoiled, and shallow. But she was also confident, intelligent, and had been fighting for the dream just as long as he had.
And then there was the other redhead- damned, wicked harlot. Murderer. But that wasn't Jean, not really. He knew her bloodstained hands were a result of revenge, and Scott knew that revenge made the sound of fury ring through even the wisest man's ears. But did that excuse it?
He liked to think it did. After all, the *real* Jean, the Jean Grey he knew, was passionate, intellectual, imaginative, and truly kindhearted- as long as you haven't killed a member of her family. Analyze it all you wanted, but when it came down to it, Scott knew there had never been a fear struck through him than the fear he felt at seeing Jean's lifeless body floating in the tank, eyes grossly huge and lips shaded frosty.
Scott exhaled sharply. He could rationalize his reasons to hate Jean and love Wanda until he was blue in the face but the fact remained: Jean had him in her clutches and she showed no signs of turning him loose. But Scott was no animal and he knew that what he was doing to Wanda wasn't fair. She deserved better. Something would have to give. Soon.
**
At least Remy's incessant pounding on her bedroom door had ceased. He was starting to give Rogue a headache. She recalled his pleads.
"C'mon, chere, open up. We should talk. Rogue, for mercy's sake! I'm not leavin' until you open dis door!"
That was two-and-a-half hours ago. Thankfully, he must have left if the bellowing silence was any indication.
Rogue brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes and continued to shoot daggers at the mocking ceiling from where she lay on her bed, surrounded by throw pillows.
She was too hurt to be livid with Jean at the moment. Remy knew. Remy knew. She threw it around in her head until it echoed within every crevice. And Bobby. Her stomach turned. Both of them knew and she was the laughing center of the gossip ring.
And Scott, who the hell did soldier-boy think he was fooling? It was painfully obvious that he harbored some sort of favoritism for Jean. Rogue distinctly remembered him referring to she and Logan as slithering snakes when they were discovered. And what of Jean and her massacre? No biggie. She's giving me head so I'm going to let this one slide. Rogue flinched. No, she didn't know anything for sure, but sometimes she caught them sharing glances that were more than questionable. She'd have to ask Logan about it.
Rogue sighed disgustedly. Disgust at Jean. At Remy. At Bobby. At herself. It hadn't even been a year and she'd put her heart on the line for another man. At first, it was just touch with Remy. She craved the contact she had once been starved of and he'd been more than willing to oblige, and his embrace was warm and never meaningless or brusque.
After discovering his past, she'd decided almost immediately that it was over, despite how her screaming heart protested. But then he won her back, almost effortlessly, and Rogue thought herself to have seen another side of him that he reserved for her only: literature and intellect and burning zealous eyes. Before she knew what was what, he'd lodged himself firmly in her heart.
Rogue scoffed. 'Damn.'
Then she would just have to find a way to pry him out, now wouldn't she?
"Who was Ah kiddin'?" She mumbled. "Ah can't trust people. He was a mistake."
**
Outside of her room, Remy slept soundly in the hallway, back against her door, arms folded across his chest.
His eyes opened immediately when he sensed Ororo approach. She halted and looked down at him with a disappointed frown.
"I don't need dat," he said simply, not in the mood for another brawl against a woman with a hell of a temper.
She shook her head, beautiful pure white strands dangling against her skin. "You *need* someone to steal you in your left eye."
Remy met her eyes solemnly. "I need advice."
Ororo pondered this and finally nodded, kneeling beside him and tilting her head to regard him. "Like any woman, she will need time to recover. You must give her that space that she is longing for before trying to smuggle yourself back into it."
He nodded slowly. "How long will it take, you t'ink?"
"That is a decision that is in Rogue's hands entirely. No one can decide for her." Storm then added sharply, "It is even her decision never to forgive you at all."
He clamped a hand over her mouth. "Speak of de devil, chere! You tryin' to jinx Remy?"
She smiled with her blazing blue eyes and he removed his hand before standing, assisting her to her feet as well. "Maybe you're right. Okay, okay, I give your way a try, but if it don't work, I still never take no for an answer."
Storm nodded. "As you wish, Remy. I am not the one to stop you."
**
Ororo heard Warren's approaching footsteps. He knocked tentatively and from her bed she told him that the door was open. He peeked inside and immediately smiled sheepishly in a mildly adorable way.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt if you were resting or an-"
"Warren, I told you the door was open." She patted the space beside her and smiled sweetly.
His lips curled slightly and he closed the door behind him before slowly taking a seat on the edge. His massive wings expanded behind him in two sheets of downy feather. He peered down into her beautiful eyes intently. "Ororo, I don't know what else to do. I know how you must feel after what happened. Is there anything I can do? Anything?" He recalled her lifeless body in Logan's arms as they fled, hoping to pull back before a bomb sent the house into a million flying pieces. She was too weak to stand and he and Logan had done their best to persuade her weak protests about boarding the plane.
"I don't want to go in there," she had muttered feebly and Warren's heart did a painful twist inside his chest. "Don't take me inside of that plane."
"C'mon, darlin'. We gotta move," came Logan's words, rushed and panicked as if he could hear the looming tick-tick-tick of the explosives.
That was when Warren suggested they give her a sedative immediately if she chose. Ororo obliged and made sure the task was carried out as soon as they entered the aircraft.
"Penny for your thoughts," Ororo said from where she laid. Warren turned to meet those magnificent blue eyes.
"Not even worth a penny." His shoulders slumped and he asked her a second time, his voice low and significant. "If there's *anything* I can do, Ororo, anything at all, just say the words and I am right here." His finger stabbed the mattress beneath him. "Right here," he repeated for emphasis.
Ororo's face was earnest and beautiful at once. "I ask only one thing of you, Warren." He nodded. She held her thin arms up. "Just hold me. Stay with me for now."
Warren needed no second invitation. He dipped gratefully into her embrace and held the hug for a long time. After they could feel their heartbeats pound together to the same steady rhythm, Warren shifted positions so he was beside her for fear of squishing her. She rested her head on his chest and he buried his face in her platinum locks, stroking her arms and loving every second of her touch.
Warren woke with a start, momentarily forgetting where he was until he felt the gentle weight of her arms across his chest. They'd fallen asleep with the bedside light on, their bodies meshed together comfortably. Warren felt her shallow breathing against his side and he sighed, blissful and content. Her eyelids fluttered open and she yawned.
"What time is it?" She mumbled, groggy.
He peered over her head at the clock. "Almost two A.M." She sighed heavily and burrowed into his body. There was a brief pause.
"Something wrong, Warren?" She asked.
He shrugged slightly. "Just thinking." He faced her. "I guess I'm still irked about that whole Jean thing. I mean, it's bad enough she didn't come clean but I can't stand the fact that Scott lied! He's supposed to be our team leader, for Christ's sake. And my brother," Warren made a frustrated sound akin to disgust. "What the *hell* was that fool thinking? And Xavier!" Warren's face was flushed red as he seethed. "Don't you agree? Am I crazy for thinking this way?"
Ororo stroked his chest, pausing thoughtfully before responding. She had hoped to stay out of the entire confrontation, but if it upset her lover, she could at least indulge him with her opinion. "I do not know Jean extremely well, but I do know she is a good person at heart. It is my belief that whatever Jean did was the result of desperation."
"I guess so," he huffed, his fine mouth drooping ever so slightly into a most becoming frown.
"Warren, I have always known that your wealth has never kept you deprived from the real world; why are you being so narrow-minded about this?"
He would have taken immediate offense, and action, had it been anyone other than this woman. "I just don't agree with murder."
After a while, the couple decided to just agree to disagree and they left the issue at that lest it should escalate, which neither of them was particularly keen on happening.
Angel cleared his throat. "There's, uh, something I wanted to ask you. I didn't really think this... would be a good night, but..."
Ororo knitted her brows and propped herself on an elbow to regard him. "What is it?"
"Well I was just thinking... you know Bobby, well you know how he loves to run his mouth." He laughed sourly. "Well, he's been running his mouth off to our mother and father about you, how you're so wonderful and this and that," he grinned, "Which you are! Don't get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying."
Ororo's eyes twinkled like clear-cut diamonds. "What *are* you saying, Mr. Worthington?"
He sighed, defeated. "They want to meet you. Really badly, actually, and I promised them I would ask you about it."
The African native nodded and Warren waited for a response. He was worried, to say the least, well aware of her previous experience with Wanda's parents and the very idea of 'meeting the parents' was traditionally a huge step in a relationship, one he did not want to pressure her into making and certainly did not want to scare her off with.
"No pressure!" He said suddenly. "Only if you want to."
She held his gaze. "I will seriously consider it. For you." She kissed him and the blonde billionaire suddenly couldn't remember which way was up.
**
Jean considered wallowing in self-pity in the secrecy, and safety, of her own room, far and clear from the wrath of a certain southerner. But if the Heartbreaker was one thing, it was damned stubborn.
She knocked on the door and he answered almost immediately- had probably smelt her coming.
Wolverine swung the door open and already his brows were furrowed as it was all he could do to keep from literally growling. "What the hell do you want, Jean?" He said slow and menacingly.
She didn't need this shit. Gathering her courage, she straightened and stalked past him into his room. While he slammed the door behind her, she turned to face him confidently. "A few things, Logan." He perked an eyebrow. "But mainly one: how the hell did Rogue find out about me? I know you know and you're going to tell me before I leave this room."
Well, that was subtle. She swallowed hard, hoping he didn't curse her to hell upon throwing her out. He did not. He stood, arms folded against his ribs and leaning on the back of his door. He regarded her coolly. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you a damned thing? I don't correspond with backstabbing murderers."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, *your* past is squeaky clean. How foolish of me." She slapped her forehead in one unceremonious gesture.
"I never said that, but you dig as deep as you want with your little connections, your cronies will never find an account where I betray my team- not a one."
Jean balled her fists. "She wasn't on my team when I did it! I didn't even know her, believe me, if I had..." her voice trailed but her eyes still flashed an angry azure. Slowly, she calmed like waves subsiding to a sandy shore's embrace. "I'm only going to ask it one more time," she said shortly, her lips thinning into a tight line. Logan cocked his head in amusement but he remained silent and planted at the door. His eyes widened when she almost snarled. This woman had a temper like hell's fury. Heh, shoulda known. Redheads. Can't live with 'em, can not live without 'em.
He was unprepared for the telekinetic shove, pinning his spine against the door behind him, but he wasn't about to let her know that. "What is this, Red?" He asked, cursing himself for being more than a little turned on.
Jean was not feeling up to games or runarounds, not tonight. She wanted one answer and damned if she left without it. She neared him and came dangerously close to his face, her voice as serious as sin. "Do I have to remind you that I killed four men point blank, shot them in the head from not even this far away? Do you know the look in a man's eyes just before his blood and brain is splattered all over your face?" She paused for a long time. "I think you do, Wolverine. Tell me how Rogue found out."
He held her level glare for a moment. He wasn't afraid, she may be gutsy but she wasn't that gutsy, or heartless, but he did feel a small swell of something at her threat. Despite the venom in her tone, it was really a confession. Jean was really a good kid and he knew she'd undoubtedly spent many a night tossing and turning in her sleep, begging forgiveness to her Great God for her sins. He felt respect? Pity? Empathy? The answer was yes, he knew the look in a man's eyes just before his life ended. Knew it well.
Jean released him and staggered back, a tad weak. She rose pleading eyes to him and he only held her gaze. She stepped into him and he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, stroking her head soothingly.
She wasn't crying, but he could hear the emotion choke in her voice. "Does it ever get any easier? Or does it haunt you... haunt you forever?"
He shook his head, her mass of red tangles surrounding his face. "It should never get easier. That's when you're not human. That's when you're the one we're here to fight."
Jean lifted from his shoulder and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she gestured, embarrassed. He shrugged it off.
"Rogue has another power she chose not to disclose immediately for reasons that are, understandably, her own. She has the ability to absorb others thoughts, feelings, personality, powers, anything with physical contact. She must have made some contact with you after we were gassed and before we were divided. That's the only thing I can think of."
Jean's eyes darted around the room as memories came flooding through her. She was falling to her knees and to the floor as the gas filled her lungs. She was being hauled off. She was being hurled into a... box? Chest? Coffin? Something small and beside Rogue, who was clad in the doll dress the team had found her in.
"How have we never noticed it before?" Jean said, feeling guilty for talking about Rogue again behind her back but knowing it was essential.
"Rogue has positive control over it unless she's unconscious. She doesn't like to flash it in the papers because some people don't take to kindly to the idea."
"I'm sure Remy would understand."
"But how the hell is she supposed to know that?" He snapped. Jean pursed her mouth.
"I'm sorry," she said but unsure why. "So what made you decide to tell me this?" She asked softly.
He shrugged. "You had a right to know. Just like Rogue had a right to know about you killing her fiancée. But two wrongs don't make a... right.
**
Rogue hurled a left hook at the defenseless punching bag. It swung on its small chain and she hit it again. And again.
Fuckin' bastard Remy for not tellin' me. Make me the fool.
And again.
Bobby gossiping like a fuckin' woman behind my back. And he's supposed to *care* about me.
And again.
And Emma.
And again.
And Xaviah.
And again.
And that conniving little bitch, Jean. Again, harder this time. Rogue couldn't picture strawberry shortcake Jeannie holding a gun to her Caleb's face and pulling the trigger.
Disgusted with the cooperative punching bag, Rogue stalked out of the gym, the doors slamming satisfyingly behind her.
**
Jean left Logan's room soon after. She should have felt better. Now she knew. But she felt worse. What the hell was Rogue thinking, not telling anyone about the full potential of her powers? She really could have gotten someone hurt! Jean didn't know if it was that or the fact that Xavier had kept it from her that made her angrier, and hurt. He had to have known. He knew everything about everyone that lived in his home. She decided, selfishly enough but she didn't care, that she didn't like being on the receiving end of Xavier's deception. What else did that man know?
"Oooph!" Jean cried as she ran into someone stomping as fast as she. A pair of pretty, equally angry eyes met and the sky loomed above in warning. This was it.
"Watch where yoah goin'!" Rogue screeched, hopping at the opportunity to pick a fight with this particular person.
"You!" Jean retorted, only happy to oblige.
Rogue's green eyes widened, this Jean being very different from the one begging her for forgiveness in the Briefing Room. "Who the hell do you think yoah talking to, Heartbreakah?" She spat the last word like arsenic.
Jean rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh don't give me that. Apparently I'm not the only one spouting lies around here. When were you gonna tell Remy about your *other* little power, hmm? After a mistake happened and he winds up dead in your arms?"
Rogue's face contorted furiously. "How the hell did you find out about that?"
"Well, well, well. My how the tables have turned, now haven't they?"
"Shut-up!" Rogue screeched.
"Make me," Jean shot. She wasn't prepared for and thus thrown into a far wall by Rogue's lunging attack. Jean's body was slammed securely into the hall wall two feet above the ground and Rogue hovering to keep her face level while she pinned the redhead back.
"Ah can't even believe you have the nerve to compare my lies to yoahs!" Rogue hollered only inches from her opponent's face.
Jean threw Rogue off her with a telekinetic shove, sending Rogue flying back until the southerner stopped herself in mid-air. "I made one mistake and I regret it like hell, but you didn't just lie once and beg forgiveness, you lied once and begged forgiveness and now you're lying *again*! How many more secrets you got buried in that head of yours, Rogue? How many other people's lives are you living?" Jean's voice was almost a shout now. "Don't give me that holier than thou crap. You're a fucking vampire!" Jean threw Rogue back again but she was prepared this time, making an immediate counter attack. She backhanded Jean into another wall.
"Yoah just trying to get me to feel like hell so Ah'll fohget you evah killed my fiancée. Don't try that shit with me!"
Jean erected a telekinetic shield around her presence and then another, stronger telepathic shield flaring gold and claret around the both of them should anyone stumble upon them and get it in their heads to interrupt their long-time-coming battle. "How dare you bring that whole fiancée issue up like it meant anything to you! Need I remind you of your jumping right into bed with our resident Cajun or did that slip your cluttered mind? Your fiancée, give me a break!"
Rogue was both infuriated and incredulous at once, her control slipping through her fingers. She soared through the air and tried to attack Jean again, but was fended off by the telepath's shield and bounced back with her own inertia. She bolted to a standing position. "You think that excuses what you did? Snap out of yoah rationalizations and face the consequences. Yoah a lying killer."
Jean lunged at Rogue. The two women positioned the other's throats between their hands as they elevated six feet above the plush carpet. "Caleb was a killer!" Jean screeched, tightening her hands when Rogue's tightened. "A cold-blooded, mafia hit man whether you want to believe it or not. You just can't face the reality that you, an elite member of the Opal Meridian, were living with a sleezy gangster!"
The breath left Rogue's body in one giant gust. No, it couldn't be. Not the Caleb she knew and loved. Loved. Unconsciously, her grip tightened around the lily white of Jean Grey's neck. She recalled strangling the life from one of Arcade's henchmen.
Jean's eyes flashed across from her. Had she caught that fleeting thought? Rogue gulped. Had she been projecting it?
"Blame me for my bloody past, Rogue, sure. Have *you* ever felt another man's life drain at your fingertips?"
Both women were becoming increasingly dizzy from the other's assaults, their weakened state causing them to drop almost a whole four feet.
"You have, haven't you? You know what else I think? You're a fucking hypocrite!" Jean screeched.
Scott, Wanda, and Wolverine appeared in the hallway, the curious eyes of Bobby and Emma close on their heels.
"Ladies, stop it!" Scott shouted above their quarrel but they were oblivious to anything but their own seething, black rage. Scott attempted to intervene but was slammed back by the pure force of Jean's mental bars protecting their combat.
Between muttered curses, Jean and Rogue thrashed and kicked at each other, never losing their grip on the other woman's neck. Beads of sweat popped on their smooth foreheads and their eyes remained locked, piercing each other with blind hatred.
Xavier's wheelchair appeared around the hall seconds later followed closely by Warren and Ororo. He rushed to where his team was gathered, watching in sickened fear. Upon seeing two of his respected team members engaged in combat, his jaw dropped while anger and disappointment flashed through his oil black eyes.
"Stop this!" His voice bellowed as a psychic slam disabled the two women and sent them collapsing to the floor, clutching their heads. "What in God's name is the meaning of this?" He demanded, his eyes roaming the dented walls and disheveled women with gaping disbelief. Both Jean and Rogue were silent and seeing he would get no answers from them just now, even after deliberate prompting, he warned them that any further fights as such would result in their immediate dismissal from his home.
Heads bowed in shame and feeling much like teenaged girls, both women stood and, after a final piercing glare at each other, headed to their separate rooms.
**
When she was with the girls, it was mint chocolate chip, but with her best pal Logan, it was Coors all the way. She popped the can and settled into the Lay-Z Boy in her room.
He raised his own silver bullet. "Cheers," he growled before swallowing a considerable portion.
Rogue downed the drink in record time and gave a satisfying belch. Fuck lady-like. That was always one thing she liked about Logan. With Remy- wherever the hell he'd disappeared to for the night- it was always silk and lace, but here with her long time partner and friend, it was an oversized tee-shirt and dirty white socks.
He fiddled with his can tab for a minute before clearing his throat. "I know there ain't no sense in hiding the fact that I told Jean about your powers. I didn't know she'd go all berserk. Real sorry about that, Dixie."
Rogue contemplated her reaction before promptly shrugging. "Fohget about it. The bitch woulda found out soonah or latah anyways." Another swig, because she deserved it. "You couldn't help it." She added casually.
Wolverine perked an eyebrow. "What are you playin' at, Mississippi?"
She grinned, but sadly enough, it was bitter. "Ah may be a tad outta practice, but Ah can still spot a few things. Like those eyes you've got for Jean, Ah can still see that."
He shook his head but decided against protesting. He knew a dead end when he saw it. "I know, it's fucking humiliating." He paused and added. "But hey, you know that no matter what, I always got your back, right? Always."
Rogue shook her head. "Yoah human, Wolverine. It is mah firm belief that everyone's heart has a mind of it's own, even if yoahs isn't the smartest one in the world." She winked.
He shook his head. "Can't argue with ya' there."
"Can't argue with me anywhere." She scrunched her eyebrows. "Where the hell is Remy? Ah just know he'll be mad as a swarm of hornets when he finds out what I did... and what he missed."
Logan nodded and raised his fourth Coors, gesturing for her to do likewise. "To stupid hearts."
"Stupid hearts."
**
HARRY'S POV
Of all those Xavier guys up in that big old house, this kid was the last one I would have expected to see here drowning his sorrows with some of my cheapest drink.
You see, I'm a watcher. I see all kinds of things here in my bar. Just from my sitting back and keeping my eyes peeled, I know that that Summers kid is having a hell of a time right now, what with having to pretend he isn't in love with that redheaded girl while being married to the *other* redheaded girl. Confusing, I know, but it gets better. While Summers is loving Redhead Number One, the Logan fellow is pining over her just as bad. Warren, killing himself trying to play suave and cool with that Aurora woman, or however you say her name- too fine for this old ratty tongue. And Bobby-boy, poor chap, saw that heartbreak coming from a mile away when he laid eyes on that southern belle.
And that's only a little bit of it. I've seen some amazing things this side of the United States- good or bad, it's bound to come through this bar at least once.
But this kid, this French playboy, I thought for sure he had it made. Looked to me like he finally had Miss. Mississippi after all that hard work. Shows what I *really* know I guess, 'cause here he is downing one after the other.
"Something on your mind, fella?" I ask casually. Don't want to make it sound too personal. He'll tell me if he wants. No big deal either way.
He looks up with a small smile, just trying to be nice, I know. He's about to say no, but he stops for some reason. "Ever been in love?"
I got to chuckle at that one. "Sure, every pair of long legs and big eyes that walks in here and I'm in love."
That gets a real laugh out of him, even though it wasn't exactly a side buster but I think he just needs a laugh. I stop polishing my bar for a second and stare him dead in the eye.
"Listen, kid. It ain't goin' great now, but it'll get better." I pause. "Whatever it is, I know it'll get better. She'll come around." He smiles and I take that as a sign to give him some time to think it over. When I turn back around, he's gone, a crisp ten under one of his empty bottles.
**
Rogue was getting a bit tipsy, so he ushered her into bed and headed downstairs for the kitchen. Just because his partner didn't have a healing factor didn't mean he couldn't take advantage of it. If you've got it, flaunt it, he thought.
He smelt Summers before he even stepped through the kitchen archway. He was alone and apparently digging through a cabinet for something.
Wolverine sauntered in, dipping down to the refrigerator to fish for a beer. The two men were silent at first.
Scott huffed gratefully when he finally retrieved a small bottle marked 'Tylenol.'
"Headache?" Logan asked as he pried back the bottle cap.
Scott nodded and prepared himself a glass of water. "Yeah."
"Not getting enough sleep." His tone was slightly mocking, almost challenging. In all honesty, Wolverine was in the mood for a fight and though he knew Scott would never let himself be baited as such, he couldn't help but give it a shot.
Scott shrugged. "Maybe." He met Logan's eyes wearily before tossing the pills onto his tongue and swallowing the water in two large gulps. He poured the cup and left it in the sink, turning on his heel to leave.
"Yeah, go to bed," Wolverine piped and then added sharply, "with your wife."
Scott froze in the doorway for an instant. He looked back at Logan's challenging glare but knew he could say nothing.
**
Scott credited himself for at least attempting to head back to his own room and try to get some sleep, but the detour was, in a word, inevitable. But it wasn't to make love this time, oh no. He was at her door to give her a piece of his mind.
He knocked hard, twice. He heard the bed creak and he assumed he'd probably dragged her out of bed, but not out of slumber. There's no way she'd be able to sleep so peacefully after tonight. Hell, even he knew he'd have trouble and it wasn't even his fight. But Scott was a person that took the problems of his team as his problems, too.
The door sung open and he took in her appearance. White cotton nightgown frumpy and crinkled, no doubt from her incessant tossing and turning, and her hair a wild red mess on her head and past her shoulders. Her eyes were dull but gleaming as if she'd recently cried, which Scott figured she probably had.
"Can I come in?" He asked.
She cocked her head in confusion. "I thought you were never speaking to me again," she taunted.
"I never said that," he said shortly. "I only want to talk." He annunciated the last sentence perfectly so she knew precisely why he was at her door, just in case she was getting any crazy ideas. Not so crazy a few weeks ago, were they Summers? Scott silenced the nagging voice ringing between his ears.
Jean stepped back and allotted him entrance. Once inside, she closed the door with a soft click behind him. He turned and saw her planted a few feet from her door, her posture unsure and timid. She must have caught the vibe that he wasn't here for another one of their silly little midnight flings but to really talk, or rather, discuss.
"What is it?" She asked quietly.
Scott sighed, his shoulders dropping considerably. He commenced pacing and ran a hand through his ginger thick hair. Finally he stopped and looked at her directly. "Did you tell Logan about us?"
Jean looked as if taken by surprise, which made relief balloon inside Scott before it was stabbed with a needle of truth. "No," she said uncertainly.
"No? So he has no idea about..." he gestured at the air between them. "You know, us?"
Her head shot up. "There is no 'us,' remember? You've suddenly decided to grow a conscience."
Jean could tell he was rolling his eyes by the incline of his head. "Don't start all that. Just answer the question: Does Wolverine know about our affair?"
She inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the explosion. "Yes."
Scott buried both hands in his hair and gritted his teeth, fighting for control. "How?" He asked simply.
"After the first time, he smelt it... on me, I guess."
"The fir-!" Scott peered around the room as if a hidden camera lurked in the shadows. "The first time! Are you serious? Why didn't you tell me!?" His voice was thin and rising. She put both hands in front of her and gestured for him to calm down.
"What Logan and I talk about has nothing to do with you."
His eyes grew large and maddened behind the ruby quartz. "Nothing to do... Oh my God. What is the matter with you?! I face ten times the consequences you do if the affair was ever discovered and it has nothing to do with me? I don't believe this!" He felt weak and so sank onto her plush canopy bed, rubbing his hands on his knees in a frantic thinking method.
"Ten times the consequences! How dare you. I agree, you're the one with a wife, but do you know the humiliation and shame and filth I would feel? I'd be the cheap, trashy *other* woman! It almost amounts to the *regret* I feel now for having slept with you in the first place!"
With her minimally practiced telepathy, she felt his heart sink a little at her piercing words. Behind his visor, she knew he blinked, astonished at her venomous lashings. He closed his gaping mouth immediately though and pretended it had never affected him, but it was too late. She had felt it. And now felt utterly terrible for having said it.
"Oh Scott," she said, taking a seat beside him on the bed, "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."
He jerked from her soft touch on his shoulder. "Don't touch me," he said, his eyes focused forward and jaw hard.
Slightly taken aback but realizing she shouldn't be, Jean swallowed and tried again. She placed a hand on his forearm this time and dared to scoot closer to his tense form. "I'm serious, Scott. It was mean and... it wasn't true."
"I said don't touch me," he said again, but didn't yank himself away which she took as a good sign.
Scott's heart beat furiously in his chest and for that, he damned himself. All right, so he would stay and make amends for his wrongs and leave. No use ending their brief relationship with hateful words. "Jean, I'm sorry it has to end like this, but I should really go," he meant to say, but instead all that came out was a weak sigh to her hand traveling up his arm and through his hair. He unwillingly tipped his head back and flowed with her movements but promptly stopped and faced forward again.
Jean straightened, defiant now and wanting very badly to hold him. But she knew Scott, knew him well, and he wasn't the type to throw caution to the wind and just kiss a woman in the throes of a heated moment. She had to ease him into it. She wanted to ease him into it; she wanted him. Sure in that one thing now, she was going to use any means necessary to get him. Even if it meant playing dirty.
She climbed to her knees beside him and he turned to face her. "What do you think you're doing? Jean, I'm sorry but I thought I made it clear that I can't do this."
"Why?" She asked softly, resting her hands on his shoulders and looking into the reflective glass of his visor with big questioning eyes that made his tongue grow wet.
"God Jean, don't do this." He protested, almost begged. The sound of her name off his lips made her want even more.
"Why?" She persisted.
"Because... it's not... right." He breathed as she dipped down until their faces were almost touching. Her scent was overpowering and he hated to admit that he had longed for that aroma of her red curls, warm breath, velvety skin.
"This isn't right?" She asked, nearing her cheek to his to drag her tongue across the shell of his ear. He guided her back before she could.
"No, it's not. It's wrong because, because of Wanda."
Jean sighed. "Wanda." She repeated flatly before touching her forehead to his chin. She just couldn't be face to face with him when she approached the subject that had kept her awake many a night. "I vaguely remember you saying that you loved me that time you cornered me in the Blackbird. Are you a liar, or what?"
His breath left him sharply. "Wha-? No, not a liar. I just..." She stopped nibbling his chin and sat back.
"You just what?"
"I do... I do love you. God, why? Why do you make me?" He hated the sound of his own voice, desperate and weak, never the voice of a leader. But he didn't think leader or strategy or consequence when she was so close to him like this, her lips playing on his and in his arms. He didn't think at all. Just felt, felt pure, raw emotion coursing through his veins and all centered on her. He decided that it was because she was this total other end of the spectrum for him that he loved her. He had loved Wanda because she fit perfectly into his dutiful, practical, intelligent life. He loved Jean because she was... Jean.
Wordlessly, he let her wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him sweetly. His hands rose to her hips as she slowly guided him down across the length of her bed, straddling his waist and tugging off her nightgown.
Just as beautiful as he remembered her. "God," he murmured when she fell back to him so that he could kiss her and entangle his fingers in her long hair, feeling the strands dance on his collarbone and tickle his skin.
**
Wanda lied awake in their bed, content and knowing. As long as he's lying, he's mine, and I can live with that. I've been playing 'pretend the world is perfect' for as long as I can remember.
Scott's wife thought about what she'd do if he ever gathered the courage to pour the truth on her: the awkwardness, the gossip, her parents, her friends, the utter humiliation. She shuddered, shoving the unthinkable thought to the back of her mind.
Lie to me and I'll be satisfied.