Untitled

Chapter 1


Disclaimer: No, I don't own the X-Men. Marvel does. I wish I owned Logan..but I digress..*ahem* anyways..yeah.


Authors Notes: No title yet, no idea how long this will be, but I have to say thanks to Matt, the love of my life for his help on this. It's my first X-Men fic..so please don't hit me with a stick. And now, on with the show.

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Logan trudged through the woods behind Charles Xavier's school for Mutants. He looked around, sniffing. Occasionally he reached up to brush snowflakes from his sideburns.

"How hard are you going to make this?" an annoyed voice called out from a short distance behind. Scott waded through the ankle-deep snow until he was standing next to Logan. "Can we just pick one and go? The storm is getting worse. And it's getting cold."

Logan only turned and gave Scott a glare. The two men had been sent on a mission. They were supposed to be finding a Christmas tree for the mansion. Scott sighed as Logan moved on deeper into the woods.

"Here it is," Logan finally spoke.

"It's about time," Scott grumbled. It was getting colder, the wind was picking up, and he was ready to go home and curl up under a nice soft blanket with his wife.

Logan walked around the tree, unsheathing his claws with a familiar *SNIKT*. He winced painfully. It seemed to hurt more than it usually did when the indestructible metal ripped through his flesh. He was glad ole one-eye hadn't noticed. After he made sure that the tree was satisfactory he knelt down, and with one hit severed the tree from its place in the ground. He didn't say a word to Scott, but started back toward the mansion, with both him and the tree in tow.

Scott wrapped his arms around himself for warmth, muttering and complaining. With the ground covered in snow, he didn't notice the hidden tree root buried until he tripped over it, twisted his ankle hard and then went tumbling down a small embankment. He lay there stunned, snow now inside his jacket, burning his skin as it melted. His ankle was throbbing.

It would be so wrong to just leave him here, but it's so tempting, Logan thought to himself as he dropped the tree and sauntered back to Scott.

"You know this is all your fault!" Scott hollered, pulling himself to a sitting position. "If you weren't so careless this never would have happened! We could have gone to the store and bought a tree! You're going to get someone killed some day, you know that?"

"I feel so much better knowing that someone who hasn't even mastered the intricacies of walking is telling me I'm careless," Logan replied sarcastically.

Scott huffed and got to his feet, then promptly hit the ground again with a loud, "OW!"

Logan could only roll his eyes and think, what a pretty-boy. I wonder what Jean sees in him.

"Great, just great!" Scott continued to holler. "It's cold..and now my ankle hurts..my clothes are soaked..and I'm stuck here with you."

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. "You could be stuck here by yourself. I'm not the one with the bum ankle now, am I?" He smiled almost devilishly and Scott looked at him, really expecting Logan to leave him out in the snow to freeze. Instead, Logan reached out a hand, which Scott reluctantly took. As he hefted Scott to his good foot, Logan winced when the other mutant's fingers touched where the skin was still raw from his claws. He draped Scott's arm around his neck so that he could use his good foot to support some of his weight. Slowly they made their way to the tree.

"Grab a branch and pull, since you're occupying both my arms."

Scott did as he was told and together they made the trip back to the mansion, gimp, tree, and all.


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"What took you guys so long?" Jean questioned, as the two men entered the kitchen from the back door. "Scott, honey, what happened?" She was on him in seconds, helping him from Logan's arms to a kitchen chair.

"Cyke here decided he wanted to make snow angels," Logan snickered as he pulled the tree in and closed the door.

Scott shot Logan a nasty look. "Oh it's nothing. I just tripped over a tree root buried under the snow."

"It's obviously not "nothing" if Logan had to help you back to the house," she badgered, as she started to untie his shoe and remove it.

"OW!"

Logan rolled his eyes and removed his gloves. He blinked, realizing his hands were caked with blood, and small gashes from his claws where still there.

"Scott, I think your ankle may be broken," Jean sighed as she palpated various bones in her husband's foot. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes and we'll take you downstairs and get some x-rays." She helped Scott to his feet and led him to their bedroom.

Just as he was cleaning the remains of blood off his hands, Rogue came into the kitchen and spotted the tree.

"Oooo!" she squealed in delight. "When are we goin ta put it up? Hank and Kurt already have the decorations out."

"Give me a minute to clean up and then I'll bring it into the living room," Logan replied. He smirked as Rogue skipped off to tell the others. Then his attention turned back to his hands. The blood was gone, and so were the gashes. His hands were still a bit tender though. Normally it didn't take this long for his healing ability to work.

"Logan!" Rogue's voice called out. "Come on ay'an get that tree in he'uh!"

Logan dried his hands and grabbed hold of the tree, dragging it through the rest of the kitchen and leaving pine needles in a trail behind him. He pulled the tree upright and carried it to where the masses were waiting for him to put it in the stand.


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Scott sat on one of the tables in the medlab, arms across his chest, watching his wife tack up x-rays on a light board. He was annoyed. When the professor had asked them to get a tree, he figured they could just go and pick it off a lot somewhere. But Mister Nature-Boy had to do his animal act and sniff one out in the woods.

"It's not Logan's fault you tripped," Jean spoke. She was busy looking at the x-rays, and did not turn to face Scott. "It was an accident."

Scott clammed up. He knew Jean had read his mind. Sometimes having a telepathic wife wasn't all good. And to make matters worse, she had just stood up for Logan knowing full well how Scott felt about him .

Jean sighed and pulled a stool next to the bed. "It's broken sweetie."

"Great," Scott grumbled. "Just great."

"It's not a bad break. You'll be fine. When the swelling goes down I can put a cast on it."

Scott glanced at his foot. Even with the ice pack draped over, he could see his toes were puffy. "So what now?"

Jean reached out and smoothed his hair back sympathetically. "You go upstairs and rest, relax, keep ice on it...and let me take care of you."

Scott couldn't help letting a small smile erase some of his bad mood. He took Jean's hand and gave it a quick kiss then watched her disappear into a closet. She returned with a set of aluminum crutches and some other various pieces of equipment. He groaned and gestured toward the crutches, "Those hurt your armpits!"

"Well you won't need to be using them that much. Because you're going to stay off your feet," Jean replied, gently wrapping ace bandages around his foot. When she'd applied 3 of them, she slipped an air brace around the injured limb and velcroed it in place. "Now let's get you to bed." She helped him sit up and made sure he would be steady enough on the crutches to make it upstairs.

Jean helped Scott settle into the bed, propping his foot gently on a pillow. "Now I want you to relax..I'll be right back."


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Logan was heading to bed when he passed by Jean and Scott's room. The door was slightly ajar and he stood quietly in the shadowed hallway, watching them.

"He has to make everything so..difficult," Logan heard Scott say. "Not just the silly tree..everything."

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down," Jean's voice replied softly. "I know you two are very different but you also are a lot alike. You should both try and work on..shall we say tolerating one another." She decided it was for the best to not point out that both her husband and Logan shared a very stubborn demeanor.

Scott's face screwed up into obvious annoyance, a sign that he was thinking "over my dead body."

I make everything difficult? And I'll tolerate him like I'd tolerate a hole in the skull. Logan saw Jean reach over and brush Scott's hair back, then gently kiss him. A surge of jealousy welled up from the pit of his stomach. How does a guy like him..get a girl like her? Logan clenched his fists at his sides. He would much sooner eat his own adamantium claws before admitting that he was more than slightly jealous of Scott and his relationship with Jean. A very deep part of him longed for what they had together. He saw Jean start to get up and moved past the doorway in a hurry to avoid being seen. When he was safely in his room he plopped down on his bed and sighed. He was suddenly feeling very tired. Sighing again, he undressed and pulled on a pair of flannel pants and a white t-shirt. As he climbed into bed he could hear giggling as the younger members of the mansion refused to sleep until they had the tree decorated. For awhile he lay there in the dark, listening to the noise; which occasionally turned into an argument about who was going to put the star on top and who should hang up certain decorations. Then he would glance at his alarm clock, go back to listening to the voices, and finally he'd let his thoughts drift to Jean. This continued in the same cycle for quite some time. By the time there was silence from the other room, a dull ache had started behind his eyes. No longer able to fight off fatigue, Logan allowed his eyes to fall closed and he drifted off into the restlessness that often plagued him while he slept.


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Logan sat bolt up right, gasping and breathing heavily. He was used to waking up this way. When he finally recovered from the disorientation of just waking up, he realized his shirt was plastered to his body with sweat. There were rings around the collar of the shirt and under his arms, as well as a patch down his chest and his hair was soaked and stuck to his forehead. Pulling himself from the bed he managed to stumble into the bathroom and sit down on the closed lid of the toilet. This was one of the few times in his life Logan could actually say he didn't feel well. He felt downright rotten. But he couldn't be sick. That never happened. Logan was suddenly reminded of his hands. Looking down at them he rubbed the red marks where his claws came out. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Something does feel a bit off. Shaking himself out of his stupor he came back to damp clothes and a headache from the pulsing behind his eyes.

"I guess the best thing would be go get these clammy clothes off," he said out loud to himself. He stripped off the sticky clothes and tossed them into a heap on the floor. After he adjusted the water, he hopped into the shower and let the warmth cascade over his body. The stream felt good as it hit his neck and back, and his face when he turned around. He always marveled about how a shower could wash away just about anything. Dirt, grime, anger, pain. Once the water was turned on all of that could be sent down the drain. When he was finished, he grabbed a towel and headed back out into the main room. The shower had made him feel a bit better. He pulled on another pair of pants and a shirt and settled back onto the bed. He glanced at his alarm clock and noticed that it read 2:30 in the morning. A feeling of fatigue still hung over his body but when he closed his eyes he found himself doing nothing more than rolling around. He flopped on his stomach and watched the snow falling outside his window. Wonder how much there is, he mused. After a few minutes he began to try and count the snowflakes.

"35, 36, 37," he counted out loud groggily. His voice slowly began to trail off and the outside became a blur of white as Logan managed to count up to 43 before finally falling back asleep.


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Just down the hall, someone else was also trying to quell their restlessness. Scott found himself lying awake watching the snow falling outside. He turned his head and watched Jean sleep. He could often read her emotions just by this simple act. Most of the time she slept on her side, facing him. If she'd had a bad day or something was bothering her, her hands and feet would move just slightly and sometimes she'd make little murmuring noises. When she was angry, she often gritted her teeth and would roll from side to side. He liked it when she was calm. When Jean was calm and happy, he was calm and happy. He couldn't imagine his life without Jean, nor did he want to try. After watching her for a few more moments, he glanced back to the window.

"Scott?" Jean, still half asleep, said softly.

"Shh. Go back to sleep dear," he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.

"Is your ankle bothering you?" she whispered. Her eyes never opened and the only movement made was to yawn.

"I'm ok." All in all he wasn't feeling too bad. Just a little sore, and tired.

Jean's eyes fluttered open. "Would you like some aspirin?"

"No hun, I'm fine. Just go back to sleep."

"I'll go get you some Tylenol." She slowly pulled herself up before Scott could protest and grabbed her bathrobe. She disappeared into their bathroom and returned a moment later with two pills and a glass of water. While Scott was downing the aspirin, she picked up one of the now warm ice packs from his foot. "It's still pretty swollen. I'll go grab some fresh ice packs."

"Jean–," he started to say, but she had already left the room.

"Here you go," Jean smiled as she placed the ice packs on Scott's foot. When she was satisfied she climbed back under the covers and curled up next to him, her arm draped over his chest.

All he could do was smile and wrap his arm around her. "Thank you sweetheart."

Jean had already fallen back asleep and now Scott finally felt content to do the same. Smiling, he let his eyes close and sleep engulf him.