Logan kept his fingers tightly on the wheel, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. For the first time that day, he and Jean were alone.
"Logan," she cooed from the passenger seat, her fingers trailing from his chin down to his chest, "My dear husband," she giggled at the words, a bright smile on her face, "What do you have planned for us tonight?"
"Uhhh," Logan knew she was subtly asking him where the hell they were going. For their honeymoon, he'd booked a weekend at a ritzy hotel in New York City, but now he was driving in the other direction, toward the mansion. "We're still going to the hotel, but I have to check on Rogue first."
Jean suddenly stopped the movement of her fingers and withdrew them slowly from his shirt. "Why?" she asked, the laughter gone from her voice. "What's wrong with Rogue that you have to take time out of our honeymoon to go and check up on her?" Logan felt the corners of his mouth curl up involuntarily into a snarl. When mentioning Rogue, Jean's tone had turned bitter and icy, making Logan almost wish he could give her a long, menacing glare. But, he didn't.
For some reason, Jean didn't seem to understand the deep connection between the two; she didn't understand why Logan constantly worried about whether or not she was all right, or happy, or was angry if she was ever left stranded or alone. It annoyed Logan that Jean didn't know by now that he would always be there for Rogue no matter what. Even through this marriage.
Logan ground his teeth together when he remembered Rogue telling him she wouldn't hold him to his promise anymore, that his job was to take care of Jean now. The day Logan would stop taking care of Rogue would be the day he dies and the world perishes.
Speaking of Rogue, her jeep sat pathetically by the side of the road, stationary and drenched. "What the-?" he cursed as he pulled the car over, jumping out of the driver's seat before Jean could even utter one word. Logan rushed to the car, the fleeting thought that she could be freezing to death in there making him panic and practically rip the door open. Nothing. The inside of the car was dark and abandoned, not a hint of human life. Now, the real uneasiness began to set in. It was at least four miles to the mansion, and it was pouring rain outside. He felt a stab of guilt in his stomach as her face, pale and feverish, loomed up before his eyes. She was sick enough without having to walk miles by herself in the rain! He should have taken her home himself.
Sliding back into the driver's seat, he didn't notice Jean pouting in the seat next to him. "She wasn't there?" she asked indifferently. Logan grimaced, slicking his wet hair back out of his eyes.
"Obviously not," he retorted, turning the ignition back on and peeling down the road, his eyes scanning the sides for any doe-eyed wanderers.
Rogue sighed, wrapping the towel firmly around her and stepping out of the shower. The bathroom was absolutely fogged up with steam from the warm shower. The good thing was that she felt clean and somewhat refreshed. The bad thing was that she felt only too well what she had lost that day, and it all came rushing back to her. Her chin began to tremble again, and she gave freely in to the tears, sitting herself in the corner of the bathroom crying, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, and burying her head inside them.
A loud knock sounded on her door, and her head shot up, hands furiously wiping away at her face.
"Rogue?" Scott's voice echoed through her empty room, but could feel the steam steeping from underneath the bathroom door, as well as see the light. "Are you okay?" he asked, stepping closer to the bathroom door and knocking.
"Scott?" Her voice sounded muffled and tired, but it thankfully lacked the heart-stricken tone it had held earlier on in the day. Rogue opened the door for him, and stood in front of him, tears shining down her face. "Scott," her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Now, she just needed someone to hold on to.
"It's all right," he whispered into her damp hair, inhaling the enticing scent of her shampoo. His hand automatically went to the small of her back, and pressed her closer, holding her tighter. He'd spent all of last night crying, and she'd been there to help him, finally waiting until he'd fallen asleep before she'd gone back to her own room to crash. Now, it was his turn to help her through this.
"No, it's not all right," she said into his shoulder, shuddering. "I love him," she cried, "I can never love anyone else and it hurts... it hurts so bad." Scott nodded in understanding, his face grave and sad.
"Come on," he whispered, leading her to the bed. "Let's sit down."
She followed him, one arm still lingering on his neck, the other running through her hair. They both settled on the bed, facing each other for a moment, and then Rogue buried her face in his shoulder again, now wrapping her arms around his waist. "How are you?" she asked gently.
Scott sighed heavily, his hands resting on her head and her waist. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I danced with her tonight, and it was the best feeling in the world. But," he swallowed, and Rogue could feel his adams apple bob against her cheek. "she..." he stopped with uncertainty. "I dunno, Rogue. I'm just a mess." What he didn't tell her was that Jean had flirted with him as if she were still free, as if she didn't have a ring around her finger, as if she expected Scott to show up at her door that very night. He didn't understand it. Even though he'd felt blissfully happy at the time, he'd also felt like he was being played for a fool.
Rogue snorted. "We're both messes, Scott," she said with a short laugh, pulling her face from his shoulder to look him the eyes (or glasses), a small pitiful smile playing on her lips. "We are both hopeless messes."
"I know. But what can we do about it?"
Sighing, she shrugged and began to play with his collar. "I don't know," she replied softly, gazing at him. Suddenly, a strong vulnerability struck her, and more than anything she wanted to be closer to him, to kiss him, to hold him, to forget. "Scott," she whispered, her voice low, her head leaning closer as his was.
Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and while it was happening, she knew she didn't want to do it. But, Logan was married. Scott was in front of her, so close... so close. Comfort was their need right now. Being together for the past few days had been their only consolance. They were... so close right now.
Their lips touched gently at first, hesitantly adjusting to the unfamiliar territory. But, soon all uncertainty melted away as the two clung to each other, discovering one another everywhere along with their mouths. The kiss was warm and invigorating, the touches thrilling and distracting. And, for the first time that day, they felt good, so good. Rogue felt Scott twist on the bed, taking her with him, and lie her gently on her back, conforming with the sheets. She didn't protest, only pulled him closer, enjoying the heat on top of her, the warmth that let her feel as if she wasn't alone anymore. Their legs intertwined, and their movements of exploration became more heated and urgent. Rogue's lips throbbed and her stomach flip-flopped from new experiences and emotions she hadn't acted on in so long.
They were lost in each other, and oblivious to the fact that Scott had left the door open, and the doorway had become shadowed.
Logan stood, paralyzed, in front of her bedroom door. This was not what he'd expected. He'd expected to find Marie sitting on her bed, reading, or typing away at her computer, or even cooped up in the library downstairs, complaining about her fever while sipping milk and devouring a classic novel. Never in a million years had he expected to walk into her room, and find her lying on the bed, partially covered in a towel, wet hair matted to the sheets, while Scott was on top of her, kissing her, touching her, diving his hands under the towel, caressing her. The smell of their shared arousal made him sick with horror.
Jean wasn't there, but he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. Expecting to find Rogue alone in her room, he'd wanted to be alone so that he could talk to her. But...but....
He didn't know what to do with himself now. He only knew that Scott had his hands on Marie's bare skin, touching places he himself had never seen, and it had to stop. Animal instinct easily overpowered his failing human logic, and he tore into the room, snarling with rage and pain, grabbing Scott by the back of his shirt and hurling him onto the ground, his claws popping out with a fierce -sing-.
"Logan!" Rogue cried, sitting up on the bed and leaning over to make sure Scott wasn't hurt.
He turned his back on her, unable to see her in that state just yet or confront her. Instead, he focused on Scott. Claws swinging through the air, he grabbed the man by the shoulders again and tossed him against the wall, leaving an indent. Then he picked him up again, threw him into the hallway and shut the door, panting heavily. He tried to concentrate again and regain control, but his claws stayed firmly exposed, stubbornly refusing to retreat. Sweat broke out across his face, and he turned toward the wall, slashing at the wallpaper with his claws, leaving deep gashes as the image of Scott and Rogue together stayed forged in his mind, unable to go away. With every gash that appeared in the wall, came a growl so menacing and heartbroken that the two emotions were almost indistinguishable. Sobs exploded in his chest, choking him as acid tears formed at the corner of his eyes, but none fell.
Rogue stared in amazement, her own tears already slipping down her cheeks as she pulled her towel tighter around her, watching as Logan tore her wall to pieces. If they had ever been together, it would have made more sense. If he had ever shown the slightest interest in her as other than a little sister, it would have made sense. But he never had. But, the sight of her with someone else sent him into a blind rage, sent him crying and howling of betrayal, yet she could understand why.
Rising slowly from the bed as his shredding became less and less, she slowly made her way toward him. "Logan," she said hoarsely, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Logan didn't move away, but merely stopped, and broke down. Her chin trembled to see him in this state, to see what her actions had caused. But, she also wasn't stupid. His reaction was completely irrational from the logical viewpoint, though she still understood why.
"Marie," he whispered, his voice breaking. He turned toward her and hugged her tightly, wrapping his arms protectively around her waist, crying softly into her hair. "I'm so sorry."
She stood there, hugging him back, wholly despondent and hopeless. "Logan, you-" she bit her lip, not knowing what to say. "Tell me why." The words slipped out before she could stop them. "Please, Logan, tell me why you did it." Of course, in her mind, she meant the marriage and not what he had just done. His reaction to seeing her with Scott made solid sense; she could understand that. But, what she couldn't understand was why he had stood at an alter this morning, and pledged his love for Jean-
"I-I lost control," he said softly, tightening his grip on her waist. "I don't know why, I just-," Logan shut his eyes, concentrating only on what he had right in front of him. "I'm sorry."
Rogue's fingers slipped from him, and she pulled firmly out of his grasp. It was for shredding her walls to pieces that he was sorry. It was for reacting in a way he didn't understand that he was sorry. He wasn't sorry for his marriage. "Look, Logan," she said, wiping her face of tears, gazing at him with wide, soulful eyes. "You better go. Jean is probably downstairs waiting for you."
His arms hung limply at his sides, while his eyes were raw and pained. "Rogue, I-" he fell silent as she lifted her finger in the air, gesturing for him to stop.
"You're married, Logan. Congratulations. It's what's you've always wanted, right? Now, it's my turn to find out what I really want." Even as she said the words, she knew she'd never find it. At least, not while Logan was gone.
"Scott?" he asked bitterly, stepping closer to her again.
Biting hard on her bottom lip, Rogue swallowed over the lump forming in her throat. "Anyone, or anything," she replied quietly. She didn't feel anything more than a fraternal affection with Scott. She didn't feel anything anymore, except for loss and betrayal. "Logan, you should go now."
He shook his wet and matted hair, moving one step closer to her. "I don't want-" as he had spoken, his hand had reached out to her, and on skin contact, without warning, he felt the deadly pull of her mutation. He stood, shocked, for a minute, unable to comprehend an action that he hadn't felt in years since she'd been able to control it. But, she was willingly keeping him away.
"Go!" she shouted, turning her face away, pulling her skin away from his hand. "Just go." She hadn't lost control over her mutation like that in 2 years, and it hadn't been totally accidental. Her mind was in hysterics, and for a second she had wished she could absorb him just once before he left, before he entered this new life set out for him - a life without her. She needed to know what he was thinking, feeling, right at this moment. She needed a piece of him. Yes, she had robbed his mind purposely of his privacy, but she'd needed to know. And, she knew well enough now what was going through his mind.
He was still there, the heat radiating from his shadow hovering behind her. Luckily, the touch had been too brief to render any damage, but had only left him short of breath.
"Please, Logan, I'm sorry. Really I am. I don't know what happened, but- please go."
Her heartbeat quickened, and with her newly obtained heightened senses, she could smell the sadness on him- could smell the sweat dripping from his forehead, and hear the tears crashing to the ground.
"I'll see you," he whispered, choking on the words.
"Good-bye, Logan."
His footsteps echoing in the hall outside of the room sounded like crashing thunder in her ears, and the sound of his hands swishing against his tux made her close her eyes, savoring the woodsy, wild scent he'd left behind, lingering in the room.
Downstairs in the corridor, she could still hear him, joining hands with Jean. "Is she all right?" she asked quietly, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
There was a pause, and she could hear Logan exhaling one last shuddery breath. "Yea, she's fine," he replied. Then the doors shut behind them, the rain and wood drowning out the rest of their movements.