A/N: Hello all! My writing has been scarce lately because of a car accident I was in three months ago. It's been a tough recovery, but I'm taking it one day at a time. My therapy has scaled back a bit, so I have a little more time now to continue writing my ROLO stories. This is one I wrote while I was dealing with anger, frustration, and anxiety, so these emotions are going to echo in this story. I hope you all enjoy this new one. And I'm in the process of finishing up the others that are incomplete.

Logan pulled the heavy goose down jacket closer to his body in a futile attempt to ward off the bone chilling bite of the evening air. Winter in the Canadian Rockies was no joke. It was brutal, inhumane even, but he did not mind. He relished the harshness of the season as it helped him deal with his pain, anger and worries. This had been his home since the waning days of fall and the arrival of winter. He had retreated here for one reason and one reason only. To lick his wounds and to forget about the shitstorm his life had suddenly become. Up until a few months ago, his life in Westchester and with the X-Men was good. Their missions were few and far between with other superhero teams taking up the bulk of the superhero work, leaving the X-Men with more than enough time to pursue other interests.

Since joining the X-Men, the Wolverine's interests were simple and had never changed…doing whatever the hell he wanted, going and coming as he pleased, pursuing any and all clues to his lost past, alcohol, nicotine, extensive training, chasing Jean, pissing Cyclops off, and the most important one of them all, loving and wanting the Goddess known as Ororo Munroe from afar. All his interests he indulged freely, except for Ororo. That one he never pursued as he had made himself believe that he was completely unworthy of her and had no shot with her.

Now, his interest in chasing Jean he accommodated more than the others because it gave him immense pleasure and it also had the added benefit of pissing the Boy Scout off. When he joined the motley crew years ago, Jean was the only one that immediately gave him the light of day. She was accepting of him from the beginning, extending a branch of friendship, even as tentative as it was. She being an exquisite beauty did not hurt either and Logan had no qualms about flirting with her and at times propositioning her, especially when she would respond back and even more so when he scented her excitement. Everyone there thought that he was completely head over heels in love with the redhead, and he did or said nothing to correct them. They were all going to believe whatever the hell they wanted to believe about him anyway.

However, all that paled in comparison to what and who he really pined for. Ororo was the forever woman, the one ferals like him mated with for life. His bestial half certainly did not let a chance go by without letting him know that Ororo was theirs for the taking. But the man would always rebel, stifling his beast and its yearnings. The exotic weather witch was totally off limits, a fact that was always tossed in his face by the other X-Men and the woman herself. It hurt his heart every time she went out of her way to avoid him and was downright hostile to him. But unlike everything else that came his way over the course of his life, he could not overcome that. He kept it all bottled up, failing to give them a glimpse of his pain. Because for the Wolverine, showing his pain meant showing his weakness. Call the Wolverine anything you want but calling him weak was reason enough for him to end your life.

But like everything else and with his terrible luck, once something was filled to capacity with disappointment, in this case, his heart, it must erupt. Logan, the man, would measure his words when cornered and would rather disappear to parts unknown to regain control of his emotions. But the beast, the Wolverine, would lash out when cornered, fighting with everything he was worth and let the chips fall where they may. The Wolverine, when provoked was an incredible force to be reckoned with. His berserker rages were legendary, but his passionate eruptions, the ones not borne of anger, were unheard of…until three months ago.

Logan sighed when he reached the deck outside the kitchen of his two-story ranch styled cabin. Over the years, he had fashioned the cabin into the home he wanted amongst the forest of trees and the majestic hills of the Canadian Rockies. This was his haven, a place that provided him protection and comfort from all that life threw at him. He stomped the snow and dirt mixture off his boots before opening the door and slipping inside the welcome warmth of his home. He slipped out of the jacket and hanged it on the coat tree before padding to the refrigerator for a cold brew. Flipping the bottle cork, he took a healthy swallow of the bitter beer. He leaned against the island counter, glancing outside the window to take in the myriad of colors of the setting sun, remembering the last sunset he had enjoyed in Westchester…before everything went downhill.

Groaning, he wadded to the living room, plopping himself down on the leather couch. He exhaled noisily, remembering Thanksgiving at the mansion. The day the Wolverine went on a rampage. He wished he had followed his mind and left for parts unknown during that holiday, but no, he had to stay, giving in to Jubilee's and Charles' entreaties. It was a beautiful spread. The ladies had sure outdone themselves with the feast they had prepared for those who had stuck around for the holiday to enjoy. He and Jean were engaged in their usual flirtatious banter. He wasn't paying any attention to the others seated at the huge table preparing to eat. Jean held his attention, until he caught Ororo's snappish comment. It was not meant for him or anyone else for that matter to hear, that much he was certain, but with his accursed mutant powers, he heard her clearly.

Unfortunately for Logan, before he can make the decision to ignore her as usual, his beast roared to the front, having had enough of the prim Goddess' comments and attitude. "Ya wanna repeat that, Goddess?" He sneered, his eyes piercing her.

Ororo for her part, feigned ignorance. Unfortunately for her, the Wolverine was having none of it. "So ya just gonna sit there like the pretentious bitch ya are."

The individual conversations among the other residents all ceased at once, everyone sensing something was about to pop off.

Ororo's eyes shone pure fire as she stood slowly and glared at the enigmatic Canadian. "Excuse me?" Her soft voice betrayed the anger literally pulsating off her.

Logan, not one to be outdone, stood, his brawny physique on full display. His eyes had loss their usual color and were now swirling between sterling gray and obsidian. It was only a matter of time. "Ya heard me. At least I got the balls ta say what I have ta out loud."

Eyes swiveled back and forth between the two combatants. Xavier attempted to reach the two angry and unpredictable mutants telepathically to soothe ruffled feathers. When that failed, he said out loud, "Please, both of you calm down."

"I advise you to tread lightly, Wolverine," Ororo replied, her tone clipped and very deadly. "Do remember you are head to toe, metal." A distant rumble of thunder punctuated her not so subtle threat.

Logan scoffed at her threat. He had heard it all before. "Why don't ya repeat what ya said?"

Unfortunately for him, Ororo took up the gauntlet. "I said," she began in a loud controlled voice, ensuring all around the table heard her, "You are disgraceful and without scruples for continuously flirting with Jean knowing you will never have her."

He made the motion of sniffing the air in her direction. Her delicious scent flew up his nose and he almost collapsed from the sheer power of it. He barely hung on to his equilibrium. "Jealousy ain't a good look on ya, Goddess."

Ororo faltered momentarily but caught herself almost immediately. It would not do for anyone to know her secret.

"For the life of me, I cannot understand why you continuously flirt and proposition her, knowing that you do not stand a chance with her. It is pathetic and cowardly."

"Oh shit!" Bobby voiced and moved to duck behind his chair. All hell was about to break loose.

That was it. Time to put the ice queen in her place, which if he had his way would be under him with her long legs spread wide and high in the air, hollering for joy. "It ain't any of yer fuckin' business, Storm, who I chose ta flirt with," Logan roared. "Maybe if ya had a man ta fuck ya hard, then ya won't be mindin' other people's business."

The shifting of her eyes to white should have been his warning sign to quit, but the Wolverine simply did not have any more fucks to give. His eyes now showed that the Wolverine was in full control. "How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?" The loud crash of thunder rattled the mansion, announcing that she too was at the point of no return.

"I'm the fuckin' Wolverine. Ya'll are a piece 'o work. Like yer shit don't stink. Always walkin' 'round here like yer ta good fer me." His head turned, surveying the range of expressions on the faces of the mansion's residents…shock, awe, anxiety, anger. But he was only getting warmed up. "From the time I came here, Jeannie here was the only one ta give me the time 'o day. The only one ta offer friendship, while the rest 'o ya mocked me. I heard it all and saw it all. So yeah, I flirted with her. But I wasn't dumb enough ta think that she'll leave the one eyed freak fer me. Even heartless me knew her heart belonged ta the boy scout. Ya'll thought I had this grand love fer her, when in truth Jeannie wasn't nothin' ta me more than a plaything."

A shock gasp escaped the mouth of said redhead. "Who are you calling a plaything, you…you…?" she sputtered, disbelieving that after all they had shared and went through, that this was how he ultimately saw her.

Ororo stood there shell-shocked, a mess of emotions churning inside her. As angry as she was, she knew that there would be no silencing the Wolverine this Thanksgiving evening.

Scott jumped up, ready to defend his lady love. "Now look here Wolverine…" but he never got too finished as the Wolverine properly silenced him with a thunderous "Shut the fuck up, one eye." The fearless leader as if in a trance, immediately sat down, feeling a kind of sick awe for the emotional man.

Logan turned to the woman who had his emotions in complete chaos and his heart hurting. "Ya think yer so above everybody else, eh Goddess? Ya think so lowly 'o me that ya can't see what's right in front yer face. Ya can't see that all I've ever wanted was ta fuckin' love ya and make ya happy. Ya don't think I'm good enough ta touch ya, ta make ya mine." The Wolverine peered at her, all the hurt, love, lust and need literally visible on his weather battened handsome face. He shook his head, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "Ya think I'm an animal, but ya don't know the depth 'o feelin' I'm capable of. All 'o ya just think all I'm capable of is violence. When the battle gets hot enough, just send in the Wolverine and he'll get the job done. Ta hell with my feelings and my needs. Ya'll don't think I got real feelings and desires. Nah, I'm just an animal. None 'o ya thought I was good enough ta love yer Goddess. That I should be glad she at least glanced my way."

The Wolverine paused after his enlightening litany. A few seconds later, he revealed what was in the deepest part of his heart, his dark eyes impaling Ororo, "Jeannie ain't the love 'o my life. That title was all yers. Now ya can go back ta being disgusted with me and hatin' me."

With a roar of distress, he turned on his booted heels and stalked out of the dining room, leaving everyone in their own state of emotional turmoil and stunned speechlessness. He had returned to his room, where he unleashed another roar, swiping the contents off his dresser in frustration. The man and beast warred for control, with the man barely gaining the upper hand. He rejected Xavier's three attempts to reach out to him, clearly not in the mood to hear how he owed everyone an apology for what they no doubt had already dubbed his emotional outburst. But it was so much more than an emotional outburst. He was in no way sorry for what he had said, as it was the manifestation of all his repressed emotions and desires and what he know will never come to pass.

He plopped down onto his bed, holding his head in defeat. The Wolverine was wounded and defeated after that soulful, emotional purge. The building could have blown up for all he cared at that moment with all the fucked-up emotions that were running through him in rapid succession…disbelief, heartache, fear, confusion, frustration, more anger. He stood quickly, his wild eyes darting around the room. He did not belong here anymore. There was nothing left for him here. His place with the X-Men was no more. And whatever minute chance he stood with Ororo had all but vanished with his brutally honest and crude revelations. He had no choice but to leave here…leave the X-Men.

Quickly, he bent down and yanked out the large empty duffel bag that was collecting dust under his bed, tossing it on the bed. He rummaged through his sparse closet, ripping clothes off the hangers, and tossing them into the bag. He gathered up the three pairs of boots and two pairs of sneakers he owned, tossing them into the bag as well. Next up was the bathroom, where he came back with an arm load of toiletries, flinging them in the bag, not caring if they opened and spilled their contents. He attacked the dresser drawers next, yanking out his unmentionables. He bent and scooped up the contents of the dresser that lay on the floor, throwing them in as well. Next came all the gadgets the X-Men were required to have. He sure as hell did not need them to know where he was or how to contact him, so he simply dumped them in the waste basket.

Half an hour later, he gave the room one final inspection, noticing a portrait Colossus had given him on the nightstand. It was a gift from the gentle giant for the first ever birthday celebration he had, after his memories were restored. Logan carefully rolled the picture up and placed it in the duffel. He grabbed his leather jacket off the hook on the back of his door and slipped into it, gently patting the front pocket to ensure his wallet was there, before resting his beat-up Stetson on his head. Lifting the duffel as if it weighed nothing, he roughly slung it over his shoulder and slipped out the door, shutting it with finality.

He had just tossed the bag into the back seat of his Dodge Durango and leaving this personal hell behind, when he felt the familiar, annoying tingle in his head. As he had done all evening, he ignored the summons, however, the Professor was persistent.

*Now ain't the time, Chuck.*

*Logan, please….*

Logan grunted. *Please what?*

*Please do not leave like this.*

Logan grumbled. *Ain't nothin' left fer me here, Chuck.*

*You may be surprised, old friend*

*Chuck…*

The Professor sighed mentally. He tried another route. *Logan, you do not have to leave the team permanently. You can take a sabbatical and return when you are ready.*

*Dammit Chuck! Ya got all yer gonna get outta me fer yer dream. I think it's time I move on. Way past time.*

Logan tossed up his mental barriers without warning, forcing the Professor to leave his head.

He slammed the back door of his vehicle shut, before jumping into the driver's seat and started the SUV. When he was halfway down the driveway, he stopped, giving one final glance towards the mansion, noticing the faces plastered to the windowpanes. Bringing the vehicle to life once again, he drove away from what was now his former home. He reached Canada in record time.