Author's Note: This turns R-rated here for some disturbing, but utterly not graphic, sexual imagery. But trust Wolvertique. She'll make things turn out all right in the end. Now, on with the story.

When I realized I was awake again, that I was no longer in the world of my dreams that felt so real, I started crying. I could not help it. I wanted to be in that world, wanted to be loved, wanted to live with others who loved each other and cared for me. I sobbed. I moaned. Why could the real world not be as was my dream?

Yes, Madelyne Pryor was dead in real life. Yes, Rogue had left Remy in Antarctica in real life, when in my dreams she had made herself stay with him and rescued him. Yes, I realized I had to deal with things as they were, including Kurt's love for Amanda and not me.

But I did not want to. Gods, I wanted to pull the covers over my head and pretend that real life was a dream, and my dreams were the reality.

Eventually, I looked at the time. Eleven o'clock? In the MORNING? I had slept late.

I hurried into a shower and into some old jeans and a T-shirt. The jeans had shrunk a little, but I managed to get them on and headed to the kitchen.

Remy was there, reading the paper. Reading the paper? Remy almost never read anything. I popped some bread into the toaster and looked over his shoulder. "Is it Calvin, or Hobbes, who has captured your attention?"

He looked up and smiled a little. "Naw. Always had a thing for Brenda Starr, chere."

I sat next to him. "Remy, can I ask you something?"

He put down the paper and stretched a little. "Chere, you can ask this thief anything you want, any time."

My toast popped up. "Why do you stay with her?"

He looked away from me, face tight. "That the million dollar question, Storm. Gambit not sure." His fingers tapped the paper lightly. "Maybe hoping for a reason. Maybe because he a sick bastard."

I put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled reluctantly and took my hand. "You always a friend. Maybe that why Gambit come back."

I laughed a little. "Maybe."

I put my toast on a plate and hunted for the jelly. I could not find it. I looked behind the numerous cases of alcohol (who had been buying so much lately, anyway?) but it was not there.

"Remy? Did you take the last of the raspberry jelly?"

It was his turn to laugh. "Chere, Remy accused of stealin' women, jewelry, cars, all sorts of things. He never before accused of stealin' fruit. Not his style, anyway, hein?"

I sighed. I would have to eat it dry, then.

When I was finished, I checked the chore list on the refrigerator. I was down for … laundry duty? How could this be? Everyone knew by now about my claustrophobia. Being down there … having to be under the earth again …

On the other hand, I would be almost certain to be alone there. Then I could think and work without interruption. I could even pretend I was in the world of my dream. I smiled.

I went down to the basement. I did what Charles had told me to do numerous times before. I imagined the basement's roof was open to the sunlight streaming down. I basked in its light. Then I got to work.

I spent about half an hour down there, happily throwing clothes into tubs, sorting and measuring, and then I heard the voices. I had not spent much time in the laundry room before, and I did not know that the main pipe conducted sound very well from the upper floor den.

"Logan!" Jean sounded surprised.

"Jeannie." He paused. "I'll just …"

"No, no. It's okay." She waited. "How have you been?"

He growled. "How do you think?"

Pause. "Logan, I …"

"Save it. I'm outta here."

"No." He stopped. "Please stay."

"Jeannie. Don't do this to me. I'm tryin' to be good, darlin.' Just let me go, or walk out yourself."

Pause. "Maybe this is what is good, Logan."

Oh, Gods … I do not want to hear this. I care for Scott, too, and this could destroy him.

They were quiet again. Good. Maybe he left. Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe they were not kissing.

"My room. Five minutes. Be there." He left the den.

"Oh, I will." Jean laughed.

My head hurt. The sun had gone, and the walls were closing in again. I had to go. I went out and flew around for a while, letting the wind take me away. This could not be happening. It made me ill, thinking about what they were doing. How could she? How could he? I had been at Scott and Jean's wedding. It was where Kurt had announced his engagement to Amanda. How could anyone?

More than ever, I wished for my dream world.