Chapter 34

Jean woke up again.

She hadn't had a night of unbroken sleep in a week. If it wasn't Laura screaming herself out of a nightmare, it was Jean's own restless mind.

Mariko. Silver Fox. Logan. Laura. Sabertooth. Scott. They all went around and around in her head, fighting for dominance. Scott in a jail cell. Sabertooth smiling at her in that predatory, almost sexual way. Heartbreak in Professor Xavier's eyes. Laura's wide-eyed terror of herself. Logan's eternal, isolating scowl.

Fire danced around all of them.

Who are you, Jean Grey? Jean Elizabeth Grey, mutant and X-Man, who fights to help others . . . who are YOU? What do YOU want?

She stared at the ceiling for a long time, and thought, and thought, and thought.

The thoughts were new, frightening things . . . questions she'd never dared to ask herself, or ever imagined she didn't already know. But Mariko and Silver Fox, Logan and Scott, Sabertooth and Laura kept circling in her head, and they would not let her move on without an answer.

Three women—silver, black, and red. Three decisions—death, life, and . . . what?

She woke up again without realizing she'd fallen asleep. Her dream had been warm and sweet and exciting, and had tasted of wood smoke and pine.

Could I really do that? No, of course I couldn't. But if I don't . . .

Could I?

I could. If I wanted to.

If I . . . I, Jean Grey . . . wanted to.

She slid out of bed, telekinetically silencing the sheets so she didn't disturb Laura, and pulled on her training uniform. Then she slipped out of the room and tapped on Logan's door.

No answer.

She took a deep breath, pressed the spots inside her skull that kept herself from overstraining, and swept her awareness through the entire hotel. He was on the roof. He was probably thinking. He probably didn't want to be disturbed.

She got on the elevator and rode it to the top floor.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Logan was standing on the edge of the roof, leaning on the barrier and looking out over the city. It was freezing cold, and the sky was absolutely clear, though the stars were dim, overwhelmed by the millions of lights of Seoul.

Jean's breath was misting in front of her face.

Am I actually doing this?

She took two steps forward, stopped, turned around, stopped, turned around again, and then held perfectly still lest she continue to spin on the spot like a complete idiot.

If he's up here smoking, I won't do it, she decided. I don't think I could if he's been smoking. Yuck.

She walked out of the shadow of the helicopter pad and joined Logan at the wall.

He turned to her as she approached, responding either to her footsteps or to her scent on the almost-nonexistent breeze. "What're you doing up?" he asked, curious and concerned, but not angry.

"I have to ask you a question."

Her heart was going way too fast. She didn't think she'd ever been so scared in her entire life. She wanted to jump off the side of the building, float to the ground, and hide under a bridge somewhere until she died of embarrassment.

Logan raised an eyebrow and waited for her to spit it out.

She took one deep breath and did so. "If it were important . . . really, actually important . . . could you stop smoking?"

Logan looked her over. "You woke up and came out here at three a.m. in the freezing cold to ask me to quit smoking?"

"Just answer the question."

"If it were 'really, actually important,' and not just another one of your anti-tobacco campaigns, sure. Now my turn. Why the hell was it so important that you find this out right now?"

For an answer, Jean took one decisive step forward and kissed him.

Logan froze. She could feel every muscle in his body go completely rigid. He made no move to push her away, but neither did he give any hint of response. Jean caught his face between her hands and kept kissing him anyway. His mouth tasted like wood smoke and pine and cold, clear air, and something dark and sweet, like molasses, and the faint tang of metal.

When she finally ran out of air and broke the one-sided kiss, she let her forehead rest against his but kept her eyes shut, too terrified and too embarrassed to look at him. She did notice that he was breathing as hard as she was, and he still hadn't stepped back or done anything to ward her off.

After a long moment of silence in the icy air, Jean begged, "Please say something."

"Cyclops," said Logan.

Jean's eyes flew open of their own accord, and she recoiled a little, her insides twisting uncomfortably. "Something besides that."

"What'd you want me to say, Red?" His voice was rough, but his tone was gentle, like he truly wanted to know what he ought to say to make this better.

"Say what you said that day in the garage. Tell me you still love me."

"What's the point, darlin'? It doesn't matter."

"Why doesn't it matter?"

"Because you love Scott." He took hold of her wrists and removed her hands from his face, but didn't let go of them. "I know this might have slipped your mind with all the action we've been dealin' with, but you love him. And he worships the ground you walk on. And he's facing judge and jury tomorrow to save us all."

"Yeah, I know all that. I love Scott. He's my best friend. But Logan, I love you, too. And I'm tired of trying to convince myself that I don't."

"You don't get to love me 'too.' It doesn't work like that."

"You think I don't know that?" Jean demanded, yanking her wrists impatiently out of his grip. "I know perfectly well that I'm way past the point where I can get out of this mess without breaking someone's heart. I have to make a choice."

"You made that choice a long time ago."

"No. I got shoved across the kitchen into that choice, if you'll remember. You didn't give me any time to think. You just shoved me at Scott and I went because I was too confused to think of anything else to do. But I'm not married, Logan. I'll still free to choose. And for once in all my life I want to choose based on what I want, not what I should want."

"And what is it that you want?" There was a flare of temper rising in his voice, now, and Jean was secretly glad. She was better at handling Logan angry than facing that grim, pained look of his. "What in the world are you angling for that you think you can find up on this roof but you can't get from him? For cryin' out loud, Red, Scott loves you!"

Jean turned away from him, needing to storm around a little bit on the big empty rooftop. "Yes! Fine! Scott loves me! And I love him! And we've sort of assumed we'd get married one day, and remodel the old boat house and move into it, and have two or three kids, and keep the Institute going when the Professor retires . . ."

"I'm still missin' what part of this you're findin' so unattractive."

"None of it is unattractive! It's exactly what I want . . . the perfect life for the two perfect mutant poster children. But, Logan, I know that life. I know it like I've already lived it. And in the middle of that life I'm going to lie awake at night and wonder where you are, and if you're thinking about me, and where we'd be if I'd gone up to the roof that night . . . tonight . . . and told you how I felt. Told you that I wanted you."

Logan looked her over, the anger fading and the sadness . . . or whatever that inscrutable look was . . . coming back.

"Jean, honey," he said at last, "You can't do this. You know you can't."

"Why can't I? Where is that written? Who decided that for me?"

"Because you're smarter than this. You're not gonna give up your whole life . . . your responsibilities . . . because you've suddenly decided you're in love with me, or because everyone expects you to end up with Scott and you've decided you want to be contrary about it. You've got no idea what that would mean."

"Don't I?" Jean stepped back from him, standing up dead straight and feeling her eyes blaze. "What do you see when you look at me, Logan? Tell me what you see."

"I see Jean," he told her, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. How could she ever have missed the fact that he loved her, when he said her name like that?

"No, you don't. You see Silver Fox. And Mariko. You think Fox died because she chose to run away with you, and Mariko lived because she told you no. You think my only two choices are the choices they made, and the consequences they faced. Well you know what, smart guy? It's not that simple." She stepped closer to him again, and lay her hand on his cheek. He sucked in his breath like her touch burned him. "I'm a mutant, Logan. I'm Jean Gray of the X-Men. I am powerful, and getting more powerful all the time. I'm not afraid of Sabertooth, or of anyone else. I'm free to love you if I want to. And I want to."

Logan grabbed her hand, but didn't pull it away. Instead, she felt the rough callus of his thumb brush along the backs of her fingers. Under her palm, his jaw worked with the fierce effort of self-control.

"When the trial is over," she murmured, "I'll tell Scott."

"It'll break his heart."

"He'll heal. He's strong. He doesn't need me to lie to him."

"I don't, either."

"I know. This isn't about who needs me the most, or who I feel the most responsibility for, or who deserves me. This is about what I want, and what I need. Scott will understand. Maybe not right away, but someday. And in the meantime, we can go away, you and me and Laura. Anywhere."

Logan said nothing. He just stared at her, as though he could devour her with his eyes, his thumb stroking ceaselessly across her knuckles. Jean couldn't breathe. The temptation to delve into his mind, to force him to tell her what he was thinking, was nearly unbearable.

The air was so cold. It bit at the exposed skin of her face and her free hand. And still Logan said nothing.

Jean felt a dense lump of dread form in the pit of her stomach. "Is this 'no'?" she asked, her voice barely anything more than a whisper. "This is 'no,' isn't it? I'm too late. You don't want me anymore."

"No," Logan almost snapped. His hand wrapped around hers and squeezed tight. "But Jeannie, darlin', I know from hard experience that it's a very bad idea to make big decisions in the middle of the night. I don't want you to wake up tomorrow and realize by daylight that this was a mistake. It'd hurt you, and it'd kill me. So go to bed. If, in the morning, you wanna take this all back, then it never happened."

"And if I don't want to take any of it back?"

He pressed her hand to his mouth . . . not kissing it, but feeling the warmth there, savoring the scent of her for one illicit second. "Then we'll talk."

Jean considered. It was as fair a compromise as she could have expected. And if he was right . . . if she woke up tomorrow feeling like a complete fool for throwing her heart at his feet like this . . .

The thought very nearly made her sick.

"Okay," she murmured. "Good night, then."

"G'night, Red."

She slipped her hand out of his grasp and turned away, back to the doors that led to the interior of the building. When she reached them, she turned around to look. Logan hadn't taken his eyes off her.

In the morning. Jean pulled the door open and headed back to bed.

Gambit was late getting down to the cargo bay; people were already spilling out into the corridor, in teams of two or three as established Avalon residents escorted the newest batch of refugees through the maze towards the living quarters.

The refugees didn't interest him at all. Nothing had interested him since word had come through the station's gossip chain that Professor Xavier was calling everybody home. Everybody.

Kurt was helping a young teenager pick up some papers that had spilled out of a dropped backpack. His fur made him easy to spot in a crowd. Gambit scanned the area around him, then the whole room. No Rogue.

He waited for the spilled backpack to be dealt with, then grabbed his friend by the shoulder. "Where's Rogue?"

Kurt shook his head. "She didn't come."

"Qu'est-ce que tu veut dire, 'she didn' come'? Prof said he was callin' you guys in!"

"He did! She said she vanted to stay planetside."

"Why?"

Kurt pressed his lips together, as though keeping the answer to Gambit's question from flying out of his mouth. "She's really scared," he said at last. "I tried to talk her into coming back vith me, but . . . she threatened to zap me one if I didn't shut up about it. So I shut up."

Rogue? Rogue had threatened Kurt? Her brother? Rogue, who would happily break the head of anyone who dared to raise a hand to the fuzzy blue elf? That wasn't Rogue scared. That was Rogue panicking.

Rogue wasn't refusing to come back to Avalon because she was scared of Magneto. She'd spit in Magneto's eye if given half a chance. She'd stayed on the ground because she was scared of him. Scared enough to threaten Kurt. Scared enough to disobey Professor Xavier.

He stuffed a hand into his pocket and fished out the phone number that Kurt had given him. To hell with his pride—he had to call her. He was already turning to head for the door when Kurt grabbed him by the shoulder. "It's no use, man." In his other hand, he held up the cell phone.

Infuriated, Gambit yanked it out of his grip and sent charge roaring through it, ready to blow the thing into a million pieces.

"Hey! You blow zat up and zen she can't call us!"

Gambit let out his breath in one frustrated, furious hiss, and let the charge dissipate harmlessly out of the phone. "If you was pullin dat 'voice 'a reason' thing wid her, it's no wonder she was 'bout ready t'kill ya."

Kurt's mouth twitched in a faint shadow of his once-customary grin. "You can hang onto zat, if you vant."

Gambit tossed it back to him. "Non. Prob'ly hang up if I answered. She didn't tell you where she'd be goin', by any chance?"

Kurt shook his head. "She just took ze credit card, said she'd be fine, and took off. I guess she'll head for New York, but she's good at flying under ze radar by now. Maybe Professor Xavier could find her, but even zen she'd be hard to catch. Cerebro never vas too good at tracking her if she vasn't flying."

Gambit stuffed his hands in his pockets, scowling. "So what's left t'do, den? Wait?"

"I guess so."

The conference room was packed. Up until now, 'staff meetings' had been minimalist: Eric and Charles, Storm and Hank. This meeting was everyone who was anyone: all the X-Men, all the Brotherhood, and several unaffiliated mutants like Forge, Carol, Betsy, and Liz the nurse whose input had proven valuable.

"I'd like to send a team down to the trial," Professor Xavier announced. "Not to interfere, but to be on hand in case of trouble. Obviously secrecy is crucial, as most of us still have warrants out for our arrest. Therefore I'd like to ask Kurt and Betsy to take the lead on this."

Kurt and Betsy shared a look.

"I'll reprogram my holowatch," Kurt offered. "Vhat about your hair?"

"I can manage my hair," Betsy assured him.

"In the interests of fair play, I'm deploying a team as well," Magneto announced. "It will consist of myself, Quicksilver, and Sabertooth. Three of your people, counting Mr. Summers, and three of mine."

Gambit, as ever, was next to the door. He was shuffling and cutting a handful of about ten playing cards . . . all he had left after the fight. He lined up the sides in his head. Xavier had chosen stealth: a telepath and a teleporter, to spy and watch and evacuate in a hurry if necessary. Magneto was bringing out the big guns. He was rallying for war.

Gambit had also noticed that neither team included him, and wasn't inclined to complain. He didn't want to be in that courtroom.

Where he wanted to be was wherever Rogue was, so he could steal her away to a tropical island somewhere and just stay, isolated and uninvolved, until everything was over. It would be a wonderful plan if he could find Rogue, which he probably couldn't, and convince her to abandon her team, which was almost certainly impossible.

So what, then, was he going to do?

"Agreed," said Professor Xavier, bringing Gambit's attention back to the meeting.

Magneto turned to Storm. "I'm afraid that the time has come to ask you for the return of my helmet."

The helmet was on the conference table in front of Storm. It hadn't left her side since Magneto had surrendered it in a show of good faith . . . could it only have been two weeks ago?

Ororo picked it up and offered it. "It was good to be your ally, Eric Lenscherr. Thank you for everything that you have done for us."

"It was my very great pleasure." The helmet drifted out of Storm's hands and returned to its master. When it reached him, it folded itself, as though made of paper, into a neat rectangle about the size of a man's wallet. Magneto slipped it into the back pocket of his slacks. "And I'd like to make it clear that, no matter the outcome, I will bring no harm to anyone on board this station. Anyone who wishes to stay here is welcome to do so and will be under my protection. Anyone who wishes to go will be provided with transportation. If the jury brings a guilty verdict, then this truce ends at dawn the following day."

Piotr, leaning against the wall to Gambit's left, gave a dry snort of amusement. In a low voice, he muttered, "It is gratifying to know he will not crush us all into a pocket-sized lump of metal, at least."

"Ouais. Je m'inquietais. Cain't put anythin' past a man who'll forget t'pay his lackeys for two years."

"Well," said Hank, "It appears that everything is settled but the outcome." He stood up from the table. "Now, soldiers, march away. And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day."

Qu'est-ce que tu veut dire?: What do you mean?

Je m'inquietais: I was worried.

Hank's comment is from Shakespeare's Henry V. Which I'm seeing tonight. Not to brag or anything.