Logan growled. Why the hell was he torturing himself like this? He forced himself to stop reliving that night, but he had no luck as the dumbfounded look on Ororo's face when he revealed his true feelings kept haunting him. He had hoped that being in his domain would dull his pain and desires, but he was failing miserably in that area as well. One thing he had realized after running away to lick his wounds, was that these stupid feelings for Ororo were not going away, and he will more than likely die loving her. Yep, this unrequited love for her will be the death of him. Just his dumb shit luck that he would fall for the most unattainable woman. What the hell was he thinking? Their initial meeting should have been his first clue that pining for her was not going to get him anywhere.
He stood, going to the kitchen once again. He tossed the empty beer bottle into the trash then went to rummage through the fridge for something that would be palatable enough for his dinner and another beer. He grabbed the leftover pepper steak and rice from two nights ago, lifting it to his nose and sniffing a few times. He shrugged before tossing the container into the microwave.
He remembered the first time he ever saw Storm. After years of pestering and lectures, he had finally relented to join Xavier and his X-Men, taking on the herculean task of achieving a peaceful coexistence between mutants and humans. He did not necessarily share Charles' dream, but the man was one of the very few people he could call friend, and he was not averse to aiding him in his quest. Besides, it would be a big help to him to have something to focus on, given at that time the shambles his life was in.
He was impatiently waiting for Charles in the telepath's distinguished office, when in walked what had to be a figment of his imagination. With his mutant abilities, he had scented her before seeing her and had wondered aloud seconds before she entered the room, whatever in this fucked up world could have smelled so divine. Her scent was nothing compared to her appearance, and he found himself staring in awe at the then twenty-two-year-old stunning weather manipulator.
Even with his lack of memories, Logan knew that he had never been in the presence of such beauty and grace in his entire life. From the beautiful strands of her pale hair, her smooth buttery cocoa skin, bright cobalt eyes, long legs and curvaceous frame, only one word came to his mind then. Goddess. He would later come to learn that she was in fact worshiped as one in her native Africa. She held his gaze unwaveringly, but his shameless perusal of her must have unsettled her and before he knew it, hostility was roiling off her. He had shook himself out of his trance and erected his defense mechanisms. If she was going to be a prudish bitch, then he was going to be an insufferable jerk.
Her haughty snappish tone demanding who he was and what he was doing in her father's office was enough to put him more on his guard. He had responded in a harsh growl, telling her that she was damn rude, and it was none of her business what he was doing in Xavier's office. She had raised a cloud-colored brow at him in what could only be a challenge and he knew then that she was trouble for his entire existence. He recognized the immense power she held and could not help but be drawn to it. Charles had calmly wheeled himself into the tension, introducing the two headstrong, proud mutants. Ororo, with her arrogant flair had departed the office and Logan had grumbled about rude prissy broads. Xavier, for his part, had summed up the entire encounter for himself, but kept that knowledge to himself.
In the years that followed, despite her attitude towards him, he had grown to love and appreciate her. It took him a while to realize that she was more than the uptight, emotionless woman she revealed to the world. He saw beyond the exterior, even figuring out the reasons for her façade. He saw her compassion, her love, the care she showered on everyone else, except him. He attempted to douse the flames of love and desire for her by indulging in his interests, but to no avail. In the end, he had simply accepted that his love for her would be one-sided, while simultaneously dealing with the hurt she unknowingly inflicted on him.
The beep of the microwave gained his attention and he quickly got his heated dinner, a beer and sat at the island, drowning himself in his morose thoughts. Damn, but his life was jacked up. How stupid was he to actually think that someone as lovely and good as Ororo would want someone like him, an animal with blood on his hands. There was no law that said he couldn't dream about a life with her though, which he indulged in quite often. Even now, knowing that all that those dreams would never be realized, a small part of him still held out hope. Hope fer what exactly? Ya don't learn do ya, bub? His inner being mocked.
Logan snorted. Yep, he never learned. Must be his metal-laced skull that prevented him from learning. The endless story of his life was that nothing good ever happened to him. And whatever good things, by a stroke of luck, did happened never seemed to last. People like him were never meant to reap any happiness in this cold, cruel world. He guess that was the price he had to pay for living the life of a merciless killing machine. If persistent unhappiness and loneliness was his penance, then he had no choice but to accept it and deal with it. But even he could admit that a life doomed to loneliness and grief was one hell of a price to pay.
The ill-timed mental summons from Jean brought him out of his trip down memory lane. He growled, letting her know that her intrusion was unwelcomed and unwanted. Xavier had respected his wishes, having only contacted him twice since he left, to ensure his safety. However, Jean was becoming a bloody nuisance, as she had been relentless in her attempts to reach him. Did he not made it clear to all of them how he felt? He wanted nothing to do with her or the mansion. As far as he was concerned, what needed to be said was said and he had no need to revisit his time there. He just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his despair and carry on in his solitude. The only one there he worried about was Jubilee. He had a soft spot for her and knew that when he felt it was time enough to talk to her, he had a lot of explaining to do. She knew about this place and how to contact him. Seeing that she hadn't contacted him since his departure, he could only surmise that she understood why he had to leave and be by himself for the time being.
He glanced at his watch. 7:39pm. What he needed in order to dampen the memories of the entire depressing saga was to give his healing factor a good run for its money. Yep, he was going to forget his depression by getting stinking drunk, busting a few heads and banging a bimbo or two in an alleyway. Might as well take out his frustrations on a bottle or two of whisky, some jackasses and a couple of willing broads. With those thoughts in mind, he slipped into a pair of beat up construction boots and hauled on his leather jacket. He grabbed his keys, wallet, a pack of cigars and lighter and was out the door. It was time enough he appease his bestial half. He opened the front door to a soft shower of snowflakes. Suffice it to say, his thirst for booze, mayhem and sex evaporated. "Flamin' hell," he muttered. Everywhere was a damn reminder of the weather witch and with those reminders, thoughts of her always flooded him. He was so screwed. He slammed the door shut and muttered obscenities as he stripped down to his boxers and wife beater, settling himself in for another lonely, fucked up, beer drinking, and hockey watching night.