After two days, Logan and Jean returned to their now shared rooming quarters at the mansion. But, while the rest of the school welcomed them back, Marie and Scott were nowhere to be found.
They weren't together, as Logan had assumed, stomping up the stairs and caging himself in his bathroom, while Jean packed all of their clothes in the bedroom. In fact, Rogue was hidden in the depths of the woods right outside of the mansion, clinging desperately to a bottle of whiskey she'd gotten from a liquor store; cashiers hardly even bothered to check for i.d.'s anymore in this area. With every swallow of the burning liquid, she felt even more calmer, less pained. But, no matter what, she couldn't get rid of Logan's face, joined by Jean's as they held hands, their wedding bands glinting in spite.
Scott wasn't so alone. Even though he was old enough to drink, and thoroughly entitled to have his full, he ordered nothing more than one beer. He wasn't looking to forget, he was looking to get even. To fill in the gaping hole that had been left by the woman now bonded to his competitor. And, he tried to fill that hole with brazen women he met at the bar, who wanted nothing more than one night of excitement- and possibly, payment.
Logan, fighting the images of what Scott and Rogue could be doing together, left his room in a brooding state, and made his way down to the basement, where he knew Hank collected wines and liquors as a hobby. He lived there, emptying bottle after bottle, for more than six hours. Only because of his healing factor did he manage to haul himself back to his room, and sink into the soft sheets of the bed, barely taking notice that there was someone sleeping beside him. Jean only smiled in her sleep, and wrapped her arms over him, falling back to sleep.
Rogue was careful to avoid Logan's path as much as she could. All she had to do was detect the scent of cigars, and turn around, heading off into the opposite direction. Logan caught on; he could hear her heartbeat quicken and her footsteps retreat quickly down the hall whenever he was near. It killed him; he'd gone so long without seeing her face or hearing her voice, and she was avoiding him. The sinking feeling that he'd lost everything good in his life came back to him, because he knew she was repulsed by him now; his behavior the night before he'd left had been nothing short of irrational and downright savage.
He'd almost hoped that Marie would forgive him, as she always seemed to do so easily, but he'd been hoping too much. She despised him now, running in the other direction whenever he was near. He would beg, if he had to. But, Logan tried to tell himself it was no surprise she hated him now. He always screwed up. Always hurt the ones he loved. She was better off without him. So, he gave her what she wanted. Whenever he picked up her scent yards away, even before she knew he was there, he would turn the other way. It came to the point where they went weeks without crossing each other's path. But, that didn't mean Logan didn't watch her when she wasn't looking, wishing she were standing next to him, whispering to him whatever it was she was whispering to Storm. More than anything, he wanted her near him again.
But with his deep feeling of rejection, came an even deeper need to be loved. Every night- and as often as he could, he and Jean made love. Jean was caught up in a euphoric daydream. She was in the arms of her husband every single night, and she knew that most women couldn't say the same. But, little did she know, she wasn't the person he thought of right before he went to sleep. Despite this, Jean was content with the constant lovemaking, and the idea of finally having Logan as her husband. But, that was before.
This is now....
Jean pursed her lips, sniffing angrily as Logan came through the door, the strong scent of liquor raw and potent on his breath. He didn't acknowledge her as he settled on the bed and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head without even bothering to undress. Scarlet red nails pierced flesh as Jean tried to control her frustration.
"Logan," she said shakily, straining to keep her voice calm since she afraid it would explode with anger. He should be given a chance before she broke out her wrath.
No response.
"Logan!" she shouted through gritted teeth, hovering over him and tugging at the blanket.
One bloodshot eye opened, and his clouded hazel eye looked to take her in for the first time. "What?" he growled, kinking up an eyebrow.
"You've been drinking again, haven't you?" Logan didn't even bother to reply, just shifted over to his side and turned his head away. In a matter of seconds, he was dead to the world.
Screaming silently in her throat, Jean turned away in disgust, folding her arms. She had just noticed that he came home drunk every night only a week ago. And, now she could barely find him in a sober mood to confront him or even talk to him about it. He was always drunk.
And he hadn't touched her in longer. It was probably one month and a half since they'd last made love, and Jean was pissed as hell. He barely even noticed she was there half of the time, and spent most of the day locked up someplace in the mansion. She had chosen not to invade his thoughts only as a rule, but if he kept this up, she felt she would have to.
She had no idea what had gone wrong. But, she was determined to find out, or get rid of him altogether.
Marie stood outside in the woods, shuddering. This was where she spent most of her time, but somehow it didn't seem as safe anymore. For the first time in months, she'd spoken to Logan only a few minutes ago. She'd been sitting in the middle of a small clearing, taking a break from the whiskey, and simply staring dreamily at the night sky. During that moment, she'd felt so detached from the world, she'd almost felt good. Almost. That was, until the Erik inside of her head, usually subdued up until that moment, had told her she was being watched.
Her dizzy senses had been alerted then, but nothing out of the ordinary caught her attention until she smelled it: cigar smoke. Instead of running, as had become her habit, she'd simply frozen there, intrigued and nervous at the same time. If Logan was really there, watching her, then that meant he was cheating at this horrible game they played. She hadn't seen his face, or heard his voice ever since he'd come back- but, that'd had been by choice. It was for her sanity that she avoided him, but little did she know that very thing was what was driving her closer to the edge....
Anyway, the intoxicated young woman decided to teach him a lesson about sneaking up on people.
Rogue sighed, propping herself up on her elbows, and checking further off in the woods to make sure her stash of whiskey was still there and undisturbed. Satisfied that it was safe, she stretched lazily, arching her back, and leaned her head casually up toward the sky.
"I know you're there, Logan."
The shout of surprise he gave made her half-smile, as a delicious shiver ran down her back. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he would stand right beside her and mutter curses under his breath.
But, he hadn't come. There'd been a long moment of silence, until Rogue had finally turned around in curiosity. He was nowhere to be seen. The excitement she had felt before at having an opportunity to talk to him again dwindled, and she felt empty again. He'd left.
Swallowing down a sob making its way into her throat, she rose from the ground and dusted off the back of her jeans and shirt. Then, she went over to her stash and pulled out another bottle of whiskey.
Scott paced his room, a feeling of excitement and nervous anticipation wafting over him. He knew it was wrong; knew it would only end in heartbreak and humiliation. But, he didn't care. He needed this- even if it was only for one night, to wash away someone else's, and his, pain.
A soft rapping on his door stopped him, and he barely hesitated before opening it. "Hey, Jean," he whispered breathlessly, gazing at her flowing red hair flung over one side of her shoulder, and the white nightgown she was covered in. Shaking her head at him with wide eyes, she hurried in the room and shut the door, locking it and listening. When she was sure there was no one in the halls, she turned to Scott and smiled.
"Hello, Scott," she purred, locking her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
Logan staggered over the threshold of his room, panting heavily. She'd known he was there. How, he had no idea. But, she'd known.
His heart raced, as if he were a young boy caught putting his hand in the cookie jar while his mother had her back turned.
This had been his first time finding her in the woods, gazing up at the sky. And, he couldn't help but wonder if that was what she did all day, and if that was why she was never around - and why she was alone. Not that it bothered him. The last thing he wanted was for Rogue to have some 'secret hideout' with Scott, but still, it bothered him. He'd come to believe so strongly that the two had become a couple that it'd taken him a while to look past his anger to realize they hardly ever spent any time together. Surprisingly, that thought only enraged him more. What he had walked in on all those months ago, had just been... a cheap thing. Marie was so much better than a cheap moment, and he felt like spilling Scott's blood for treating her like one. It still didn't atone for his reaction to it, but it made him feel slightly better knowing that Marie hadn't become involved with that one-eyed bastard.
Speaking of the latter, a loud thump sounded a few doors down from Logan's room. His eyebrows kinked together as he caught the strong and familiar scent of semen and sex. As soon as an insulting comment made its way into his slightly fuzzy mind, Logan froze in his movements. That scent was too familiar.
A low rumble began in the pit of his belly as he raced from his room, following the scent hurriedly. Scott's door was shut and locked firmly, but it became nothing more than a shelf on the ground as Logan barged through it, his nostrils flaring and a mad fire glinting in his eyes.
There they were; Jean and Scott tangled together, partially hidden by covers and stunned into silence as guilt-ridden expressions looked up at him.
It was as if someone had literally punched him into the stomach, and he was gasping for air.
"Logan," Jean said warily, detangling herself from Scott and creeping as far away from him on the bed as was possible. Tears filled her eyes as he only shook his head, speechless. Slowly, he turned on the heel of his boot and left the room, virtually no harm done.
Sobs filled the air as he disappeared, and Jean wrapped herself tightly in the sheets, suddenly feeling dirty and perverse. Scott tried to draw his arms around her, but she pushed him away, shuddering uncontrollably. There was no way to reverse this. If he had yelled, if he had screamed or shouted, or torn something apart, then there wouldn't be the dead silence that hung heavily in the air, coating them with the transgression they had recently committed. And for that loss, Jean mourned. He had simply turned away, the defined movements of his exit clearly showing that there was no more. Ever.
Logan numbly padded down the staircase to the cellar, moving past rows and rows of empty shelves, until he reached a partially filled one. He told himself that this was just the end with Jean, and the beginning of something - someone - else. But, he still clung to the whiskey bottle, fighting back whatever emotion it was working its way up from hidden depths.