_______________

I can hear the couple fighting right next door
Their angry words sound clear through these thin walls
Around midnight I heard him shout “unfaithful woman”
And I knew right then the axe was gonna fall

It's because of me
It's because of me
_______________

He heard the change as soon as he entered the cafeteria. The usual hubbub of conversation died away, and then started again as a buzz of whispers and murmured comments. To anyone else it would have been a blur of white noise, but with his sensitive hearing he couldn’t let it fade into a meaningless haze. Disjointed phrases whipped out against his unwilling ears, wrapping around him like a lash.

“...big fight last night...”
“...probably been going on for months...”
“...can you believe it?...”

He felt the tension ratchet up between his shoulder blades, but he kept his face blank and impassive. He loaded up his tray as usual and headed toward the staff table. He was the fucking Wolverine. What did he care what a bunch of twerpy tweens were talking about?

The chairs where Scott and Jean usually sat were notably empty, and to Logan’s surprise Xavier had joined Ororo and Kitty and Jubilee. Logan sat down warily across from Xavier.

Ororo’s blue eyes were icy with anger. “I have a class to prep,” she said curtly, leaving the table before Logan was even seated.

Kitty stared at her oatmeal, her face pink. Jubilee met his eyes frankly, however, snapping her usual gum.

“Hi Wolvie,” she said, with an edge behind her unnaturally cheery voice. “What’s new?”

That pulled an involuntary growl from him, and he dug into his bacon and eggs with single-minded purpose.

Jubilee rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Kits. Let’s get a workout in.”

Kitty practically scurried from the table in Jubilee’s wake, leaving Logan alone with Xavier.

Every few moments Logan flicked his eyes up to find Xavier watching him calmly over the rim of his cappuccino.

“Somethin’ to say?” he finally growled, unable to bear the silent scrutiny for even a moment longer.

“Yes, I do have something to say, Logan.”

Logan threw down his fork, leaning sullenly back in his chair.

“I have a revised class schedule for you.” Xavier pulled a piece of paper from his breast pocket, carefully placing it on the table in front of Logan.

“A...what?”

He warily pulled the paper closer, and then even closer, squinting at the neat type before looking skeptically back up at Xavier.

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

Xavier continued to regard Logan placidly. “There are two more weeks in the semester. Scott’s classes have all been reassigned now that he is on...indefinite leave.”

Logan shoved the paper back across the table. “Yeah, well I’ve been thinkin’ I might take a trip myself...”

“I’m sorry, Logan,” Xavier interrupted. “I just don’t believe that we can spare you at present. Your travel plans will have to be postponed. Is that going to be a problem?” The keen blue eyes were steady, and Logan was the first to look away.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his hands clenched into tight fists under the table. Hadn’t he told himself that it didn’t matter, that he could walk away from this place without giving a damn? And yet...

“I don’t know shit about Trigonometry,” he finally muttered.

“Well then, Logan,” Xavier murmured serenely, pushing the paper back his way. “Perhaps you had better study.”
_______________

_______________

I heard him shout “who is he?” she mumbled low
He said “baby don't you lie to me no more”
And I'm listening through these thin walls in silent shame
As she called out my name I was right next door

It's because of me
It's because of me
It's because of me
It's because of me
_______________

It was different than he had expected. That was the first errant thought to enter his mind. He had chased her for so long, the tension snapping between them, that he had thought when he finally had her it would be fucking fantastic. Hadn’t he imagined it a million times -- his hands in that deep red hair, those long legs wrapped around him, her green eyes locked on his as her voice cried out his name?

So now here he was, in the moment, and it was all just a little less satisfying than he had thought it would be. There was something just a little too practiced -- clinical, even -- about the way she touched him. He wound his hands in her hair, but it was rougher than he had expected it to be, smelling too strongly of some kind of flowery shampoo. Her legs, those spectacular legs, didn’t quite wrap around him with the enthusiasm he had expected. And as for her green eyes watching him, her voice crying out his name...He tipped her head up, trying to meet her eyes, but she buried it back against his chest with a grimace. And when she gritted her teeth, somehow he didn’t think it was his name she was biting back.

There are things you shouldn’t think when you are fucking another woman -- and there are things you damn well shouldn’t think when you are fucking a telepath -- but against Logan’s will, he was thinking them.

Thinking of his fingers wound into hair that was a deep sable streaked with platinum, smelling cleanly of lemongrass instead of this smotheringly flowery scent. Thinking how a body might fill his hands if it were softer, smaller, sweeter. How a different voice, slow and sweet like molasses, might sound gasping his name. How somebody else’s deep brown eyes would look right into his, showing every emotion that she was feeling. And she would be feeling it -- true emotion, not this empty demonstration of lust and boredom. No, her eyes would be glowing with acceptance, and warmth, and maybe even...

He growled, thrusting harder into the woman in his arms, gripping her tighter, trying to force the other thoughts from his head until nothing remained but this, this moment, that he had imagined for so long, anticipated for so long, pursued for so long...

And it was still just a little less.

__________________

She was right next door and I'm such a strong persuader
But she was just another notch on my guitar
She's gonna lose the man that really loves her
In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts
_______________

He hesitated at the door to the staff kitchen. For two days now he had managed to avoid running into her, but the brewing coffee had masked her scent.

Her gaze flicked to him and then away. She was as impeccably dressed as ever in high heels and an elegant skirt, but her eyes were pink and puffy, the slight lines around her mouth engraved more deeply than he had ever seen them.

She still wore shades of red and he wondered if she chose them deliberately this morning, hoping that he might come back, or if she simply didn’t even have clothes in any other color.

Feeling foolish, he knew she had sensed his hesitation -- that both of them knew he would have ducked away if she hadn’t seen him first.

“Hey, Jeannie,” he said with an air of casualness, pulling a mug from the shelf and moving toward the coffeepot.

“Hi, Logan,” she answered back, her voice flat, dismissive. He felt himself bristling, but when she looked up her eyes were shocked -- devastated. He felt his anger disappear, the shame and regret that had been present in his belly for two days now rising up, threatening to choke him.

He took a deep breath, clenching his fists until the adamantium knuckles cracked. “I’m sorry, Jeannie.”

He was dreading her response, half expecting her to launch herself into his arms and cry on his shoulder. His body was already tensing against it -- god help him but his skin crawled at the thought of touching her again -- but instead she just took another sip of her coffee.

He stood there uncertainly, expecting something more. Recriminations, tearful confessions -- he wasn’t sure what -- but not this. This blank silence.

Strangely, he was the one who felt the pressure to speak. To offer her something.

“I shoulda left you alone, Jeannie. If I hadn’ta chased you so much...always tryin’ to persuade ya...”

Her face lifted from her coffee cup, and his mumbled words stumbled to a stop. Now there was a hint of contempt in her eyes.

“Do you really think this was about you, Logan?” Her voice was cold and crisp, with just a note of astonishment.

She shook her head, a slow side-to-side movement, and her expression changed to pity.

She meant to hurt him, that was clear enough, but all the same he couldn’t smell a lie on her -- her clear green eyes looking directly into his.

“It could have been anyone.”

_______________

At daybreak I hear him pack and say goodbye
I can hear him slam the door and walk away
Right next door I hear that woman start to cry
I should go to her but what would I say

It's because of me
It's because of me
_______________

She had gotten back to the mansion yesterday. He lay on his bed, thinking it over. Yesterday. Nothing had delayed her, he knew very well that Jubilee had taken the train up to help her pack her stuff for the summer. They were driving back from her college together, and Jubes’s voice had been shrill in the hallways from the moment of their arrival yesterday evening. But Marie...

Twenty-four damn hours she had been back and she hadn’t come to see him. Usually she left her bags lying carelessly in the entryway and raced up to his room first thing, bubbling over with all she wanted to tell him. And he was always there, pretending it was a coincidence and he hadn’t been waiting for her.

He clenched his fists over his head, staring at the ceiling. Jubilee had told her. Of course Jubilee had told her, Jubilee and gossip went together like rice and beans. He had known she would. He had braced himself for Marie to come storming up to his room, ready to lecture him. Ready to yell and scream, and tell him just how ashamed of himself he should be. And instead...

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He shoved to his feet with a growl, pulling on his boots. Just a few paces outside his door and he caught her scent. Faint, but he’d know it anywhere. He could track Marie through a hurricane if he had to, a busy mansion full of kids was nothing.

He followed the scent through the mansion hallways, lingering for a moment in front of her room and then chasing her scent further, where it was fresher. Out one of the many side doors and into the darkening night. Across the back lawn and into the treeline.

Finally, there she was, sitting on top of a picnic table in the dusk. Her legs trailed over the edge, swinging slightly in a way that made her look very young, in direct contrast to the way a longneck bottle beer dangled carelessly between two fingers.

They both knew that he could move soundlessly through the forest if he wanted to. The crunching noises he made as he approached were for her benefit, but she didn’t even look in his direction. She kept her face half turned away from him, watching a few lightning bugs swooping and glowing among the trees.

He sat down next to her, the weight of his metal-laced body making the table creak. Neither of them spoke for long minutes as the night settled in around them.

“So, it’s gonna be the silent treatment then?” he finally grunted.

She sighed, taking a long drink of the beer. Even with his keen night vision, her face was unreadable in the shadows. “Is that what you were hopin’?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

She continued to watch the fireflies, the locks of her platinum hair almost luminous in the fading light. “That I’d be all huffy an’ mad, an’ then you could take your time turnin’ me up sweet, an’ feel like it’s all back to normal again?”

“You sayin’ you ain’t ignorin’ me, or that you ain’t mad at me? ‘Cause I ain’t buyin’ either one.”

“Jesus, Logan.” Her voice was soft. “I’m not tryin’ to punish you. I jus’ don’t know what the hell to say to you.”

He gripped the edge of the picnic table, feeling the rough wood bite into his palms. “I woulda thought you’d have plenty to say.”

She laughed, low and bitter. He didn’t like that sound coming from her, it was all wrong.

“So, you want me to yell atcha? Tell you ya shouldn’ta done it? Would that make you feel any better, to have someone else hatin’ you as much as you seem to hate yourself?”

He let the anger rise, welcoming it. “Don’t act like you know...”

Her face finally turned to his, stopping his words abruptly. Her eyes looked older than he had ever seen, older even than his. “Don’t know what, Logan? Don’t know you? Sugar, you always wondered how much of you I got in my head, an’ I never really told you. Because I knew you wouldn’t like it. But now I jus’ don’t give a damn.”

She boosted herself off the table, turning to stand right in front of him. “You wanna know how much of you I have up here?” Her voice was low, furious. “All of you. Every. Last. Bit. The way it felt when they put the metal in you, ev’ry bone in your body on fire, fear an’ rage so thick in your throat you couldn’t even scream. Bein’ out in the woods, not knowin’ who you were, blood drippin’ from your hands an’ makin’ the snow turn pink. The fuckin’ rush you get when you’re crackin’ bones in that cage, when the animal in you comes roarin’ to the surface. How damn good it feels when you’re sinkin’ your body into a woman, and how often you imagined that woman was Jean...”

“Stop it! Just...stop it!” He shook her roughly, and then dropped his hands from her shoulders in dismay. He hadn’t even realized he had grabbed her.

He wrapped his hands around the edge of the table again, trying to stop them from shaking, feeling the wood splinter under his grip. His gut churned with shock and horror. All this time and he had never known. Sure, he knew how her mutation worked, that she picked up characteristics of those she touched. Had even thought it was cute, the way she growled like him from time to time, liked the beers he liked and the smell of his cigars...

She was still standing before him, unmoved by his fit of rage. Just like her to stick around when she should have been running far and fast, he wildly thought. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his face, unable to look at her, his mind still reeling.

All his memories -- his thoughts and feelings. Every sick and twisted fucking thing that he was, in her innocent head, for all these years. He should have known, probably had known on some level, and had pushed the knowledge away. He had been too horrified by the idea to believe it was true, to even consider it. He had allowed himself to pretend, just like she had pretended, all this time...

He could barely speak, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Marie. How did...how could I not have known...?”

She sat back beside him on the table, snagging her beer again. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Logan. You didn’t know ‘cause I never wanted you to know.”

She sighed, a gloved hand running through her hair in frustration. “The last thing you needed was one more fuckin’ cross to bear. Knowin’ you had given l’il sixteen-year-old Marie your taste for Molson and cigars was cute. Knowin’ you had given her your nightmares of the lab, an’ your erotic fantasies of Jean...”

She trailed off, taking another deep draught of the beer, her voice softer now, rueful. “You saved my life, Logan. You didn’t need one more thing to beat yourself over the head with. I didn’t want you to know then an’ I shouldn’ta told you now.”

“You should have...you shoulda told me...”

He could just make out the cynical quirk of her brow in the dim light, an eerie mirror of one of his own favorite expressions. How had he not noticed that before?

“Knock it off, Logan, if you had wanted to know -- had really wanted to know -- you woulda just asked me straight. There’s nothing I woulda denied you.” She cleared her throat self-consciously. “Back then.”

He still felt like he had been gut-shot. “All this time...knowin’ those things about me...how can...”

He didn’t even know what he was asking but she did, raising her bottle in a mocking toast. “An’ there it is, in a nutshell. How can I know what you are...who you are...an’ still be...your friend? Wanna be around you? Jesus, Logan, the you in my head -- I know he woulda thought that. But he was from four years ago, you haven’t learned anythin’ since then?”

He was suddenly angry again. This intimate knowledge she had of him -- he was still trying to wrap his head around it and she wielded it so...casually. Now that the shock was fading, the shame and fear of what she knew was overtaking him, fueling his rage.

“So you know me so goddamn well...why did I do it?” he snapped.

She ignored his angry tone, appearing to consider the question carefully. “I wish I knew. Maybe this became too much for you...a safe place, all this friendship and respect. Maybe you just had to sabotage yourself, show yourself that you didn’t deserve it all. Or maybe it was as simple as seein’ two people in love, and tryin’ to convince yourself that that didn’t mean anythin’. That it didn’t really exist, but it did, lust is one thing but they were in love, Logan...”

She suddenly sounded so young again, so earnest, and his blood roared hot and thick in his ears. He heard the cruelty in his own voice as he lashed out at her, making her flinch. “What the fuck would you know about love? Or even lust?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he desperately wished them back, his gut twisting, regret bitter in his throat.

She just gazed at him for a long moment and then hopped off the table, her back straight and proud as she walked away from him, and suddenly he knew. If he didn’t make this right this would be the last time he would ever see her, the last words he would ever speak to her.

“Marie, wait...” He had caught up to her but she walked steadily forward, only her scent giving away the depth of her hurt and sorrow.

“Christ, Marie...just...stop a minute.” He grabbed her arm, and she yanked it away. He saw it coming but let it happen as she hauled off and hit him hard across the face.

“Fuck you, Logan! You fuckin’ cold-hearted bastard!” She was trembling with rage, her eyes spitting fire. “Just because I can’t touch everyone thinks I can’t feel, but I do, I feel it, maybe even more than everyone else, and you don’t feel the same way but don’t think that gives you the right to fuckin’ pretend like it’s nothin’, like it’s not true...”

His eyes widened. She couldn’t mean...?

The thought of it, one more shock, finally broke him. He felt something fracture inside him, and suddenly he was on his knees before her, his face pressed desperately to her belly, his arms wrapped around her waist, words spilling from his mouth in a barely comprehensible rush.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it. I fucked up, I know it, I fucked up so bad...”

He nuzzled into her, breathing in her scent, memorizing it in case it was the last time, knowing he was falling apart in front of her but unable to stop it. His whole body was shaking, his arms gripping her so tightly he didn’t think he could let go if he wanted to, the words ground out helplessly through his clenched teeth. “I don’t know why I did it, and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I don’t know what to do, just tell me what to do, Marie, just tell me what to do...”

The words ran out and he knelt before her, panting, the pressure in his chest unbearable. She was going to pry free from him and leave him, he was losing her and he never even knew he had her, he was losing everything that ever meant a damn to him...

He could hardly believe it when he felt it, the brush of her gloved hand through his hair, gently, soothingly. A choking noise escaped him and her hand wound in his hair tighter, holding him against her, her other hand now stroking tenderly over his neck, his shoulders.

Her voice was soft again, thick with tears. “Settle down, sugar. It’s gonna be okay.”

Still unable to speak, he shook his head against her in denial. It was never going to be okay, not with how badly he had fucked things up this time.

“C’mon now, sugar, stand up.” A note of steel entered her voice. “You stand up an’ face this, Logan.”

He somehow found the strength to push himself to his feet, still holding her, until his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her head against his chest.

He slowly felt some of the pressure in his chest ease, the frantic thumping of his heart lessening a bit. Until he felt her slowly, tentatively, put her arms around his waist, returning his desperate embrace, and then his heart started thumping wildly again.

“I think I broke my hand on your damn hard head,” she finally mumbled, her breath hot against his shirt.

Then she was laughing, and against all odds he found himself laughing softly with her.

“I can believe it, that was a helluva belt you gave me.” He reached down, holding her gloved hand gently in his. Slowly, so slowly that she could pull away from him at any time, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I’m sorry, Marie.” Her eyes were dark and deep, and he forced himself to meet them, hoping she could read in his own eyes everything that he meant. “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded, and then her arms tightened against him, her head finding its way back against his chest, as naturally as breathing. For a moment he let his mind go blank, feeling only how right it seemed to have her there, in his arms.

“I wish I could give you some easy answer, Logan,” she murmured. “Tell you that there’s somethin’ you could do to make it all right again, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that way. Some things that get broken can’t ever be fixed. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. You still hafta try.”

He sighed, knowing what an ass he was going to sound like when he spoke the words, but needing to tell her the truth just the same. “I’ve always run from my screw-ups. Never even tried to stick around, to pick up the pieces. I don’t even know how.”

She nodded against his chest, unsurprised. “I know. But this time will be diff’rent, sugar. An’ I’ll help you.”

His throat choked up with emotion again, and he couldn’t stop the question from breaking free. “Why? You were right about one thing, Marie, I don’t deserve this. Any of it.”

She pulled back a little, her gloved hands coming up to hold his face between them. Her voice was steely again, her eyes steady on his. “Which part of you doesn’t deserve it, Logan? The part that betrayed ev’rybody you care about by fuckin’ Jean, or the part that was so loyal you risked your life to save mine when you hardly even knew me? The part that beats the hell outta people in that cage, or the part that uses those skills to teach these kids how to defend themselves? The part that stopped your car for a freezin’ runaway, or the part that can gut a man without a second of hesitation?”

She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. “I know you, Logan. That’s why I never told you what I got from you when you touched me. Because nobody wants to be known like that, all their secrets an’ fantasies an’ fears. An’ I’m sorry I took that from you, an’ I don’t mean to throw it back in your face. But I need you to know that I’m not full of shit when I say that I know you, everythin’ that you are, and you do deserve this. You deserve good things, and you deserve love. I don’t know how to get you to believe it, but it’s true.”

She faltered, apparently embarrassed by her vehemence. She dropped her eyes from his, her hands falling away from his face. He was still struggling to find words a moment later when she twined her hand back in his, pulling him to walk with her back toward the mansion.

She shrugged and peeked back up at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes now. “An' you also deserve every bit of humiliation you’re gonna get when you finally find Scott and beg him to get his ass back here where it belongs.”

He stopped in his tracks, hoping against all hope that she was kidding. “Aw, hell. C’mon, darlin’...really?”

Her voice was firm. “Yeah, sugar. Really.”
_______________

_______________

She was right next door and I'm such a strong persuader
But she was just another notch on my guitar
She's gonna lose the man that really loves her
In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts
_______________

Logan rumbled into the dusty lot close to midnight. He could hear the roar of a crowd inside. Something pretty damn exciting must be happening to attract a crowd to this sad little roadside bar 150 miles between Guadalajara and fuck-all nowhere.

He left the bike parked under the buzzing neon sign, swiping away the fluttering moths in irritation. He pulled his saddlebag from the bike and slung it over his shoulder, wiping the dust from his eyes, hoping whatever was going on wouldn’t keep him from the beer he was almost desperately craving. Three weeks since he had crossed the Mexican border, chasing tenuous leads and whispered rumors of a man with red glasses, and he was getting exactly nowhere.

He pushed in through the crowd, noticing the changes in this place since he’d been here last. This used to be one of his stops on the Southern fight circuit and the guy who had owned it back then, Eduardo, always had his ear to the ground. Logan was hoping Eduardo might have heard something more solid about Scott, but now he was wondering if he still even ran the joint. It was five times the size it used to be. A large portico had been added across the whole back, and the thickest part of the crowd had gathered there.

Logan managed to shove his way to the bar, his long arm reaching out to grab the harried bartender by the scruff of his collar as he rushed by.

“Cerveza,” he growled, not releasing his grip on the bartender until a cold bottle was in his other hand.

He took a long gulp, savoring the feeling as the cool liquid washed away the road dust from his throat. Fuck, that was good.

His mood incrementally improved, Logan started to really look around. A cheer came up from the crowd, and he wandered in that direction, lighting a cigar and puffing it to flame.

He stepped out onto the portico, pushing his way through the raucous press of people. As he got closer he heard the familiar sounds of a fight -- the wet smack of flesh against flesh, the crunch of knuckles against a jaw. He smirked, making his way toward the front. Guess the place hadn’t changed that much after all.

Harsh spotlights glared down on the makeshift cage, made of nothing more than rebar posts reinforced with rope ties. Logan winced in sympathy -- anyone thrown up against that would lose some skin at least. It made the chickenwire cage in Laughlin City look like the fucking Hilton.

Right now some behemoth with a handlebar moustache was having his ass handed to him. Logan watched in approval as his much smaller sandy-haired opponent got a good one in under the behemoth’s guard, cracking him on the jaw and then immediately following up with a knee to the groin.

The larger man doubled over, swinging wildly, and the smaller man got a shoulder in under his ribcage, heaving him up with a push of his legs until he fell backwards. A foot to the neck, ruthlessly cutting off the big man’s air supply, and the fight was done within moments.

The sandy-haired man stood stoically, fists clenched, still facing away from Logan, his bare sweaty back heaving with panting breaths as his opponent was dragged out of the ring. Something about his stance caught Logan’s attention. There was something familiar about this guy...was he on the circuit five years ago too? But somehow that wasn’t it...

Logan’s attention shifted as a small dark man climbed into the ring -- a little more gray at the temples, a little paunchier, but Logan recognized Eduardo immediately. Good. He’d just hang out until things died down and see if he could...

Eduardo grabbed the sandy-haired man’s arm, lifting their hands high. A round of cheers went up from the part of the crowd they were facing, and then Eduardo swung the man around until he was facing Logan’s side of the crowd.

“¡Señores!” Eduardo bellowed jubilantly. “¡El reinante y aún El Rey de la Jaula...El Demonio!”

Logan’s cigar dropped from his open mouth.

“No fuckin’ way,” he muttered.

He turned instantly and melted back into the crowd but in his head, unmistakeable, was burned the image of Scott Summers -- his teeth bared in a ferocious victory smile, his red goggles burning like the eyes of a demon under the glare of the spotlights.
_________________

The place had pretty much cleared out by the time Scott emerged from the back room, dressed more recognizably in jeans, a t-shirt, and his typical red sunglasses. He stopped short when he saw Logan leaning against the bar. Logan watched warily as Scott’s hand reflexively shot up to where his visor switch would have been.

Logan carefully put his cigar and beer down on the bar and held both hands up in what he hoped was a conciliatory manner. Not something he was used to, but he’d give it a try. “Just here to talk,” he said.

The red sunglasses steadily regarded him for a moment. Finally, Scott nodded curtly and took a bar stool. “Tequila, por favor,” he told the nervous-looking bartender.

Logan couldn’t help his eyebrow from twitching up as Scott knocked back two shots in quick succession. He lifted his empty beer bottle in the direction of the bartender.

“Dame otra.”

The bartender clanked a new bottle onto the bar and scurried away from the two of them as fast as his legs could carry him.

Logan turned back to find the red sunglasses watching him.

“So...here to talk, huh? What’s the matter, Hallmark doesn’t make a ‘sorry for fucking your wife’ card?” The question was punctuated with another shot of tequila.

Logan took a long drink of his beer. He had spent so much time chasing down Scott, and yet he had given fuck-all thought to what he would actually say to him when he finally found him.

“I am, ya know,” he finally settled on. “Sorry.”

A flash of Scott’s teeth in what no one would consider a smile. “Well, I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Four years of you panting after her like a dog in heat. I guess I had just gotten used to it. Convinced myself that it was all bark. Even started to consider you a friend. Guess that makes me twice the sucker, huh?”

Logan clenched his fist around the bottle, swallowing down the bitter aftertaste of shame. “Nah. We were friends. Just makes me twice the asshole.”

Another shot, and Scott leaned his elbows back against the bar, considering. “Have to admit, I figured you’d be halfway to Canada already. Sure as hell didn’t figure you for tracking me down to apologize.” His head tilted. “So, which one sent you? Charles or Jeannie?”

Logan looked down at his cigar, burning a scar into the battered bartop. “Rogue.”

“Rogue?” The surprise was evident in Scott’s voice.

Logan took in a deep breath. “Look, Scoot -- um, Scott. I dunno what the hell I was thinkin’, sleepin’ with Jeannie. I was blind, or some kinda fuckin’ coward, or both, but she didn’t give a damn about me. Told me herself, it wasn’t about me, coulda been anyone. And for me, even though I was runnin’ from it, even if I didn’t have the sense to know it until she smacked me over the head with it and I almost lost her, it’s always been Rogue...”

The last thing he saw was a flash of ruby light.

____________

“Mmmmpph.”

Logan pushed his way towards awareness. Damn, his chest sure hurt. What the hell was up with that?

He finally pried his eyes open. A dim motel room. Could have been anywhere. A movement caught his attention, and his blurry eyes focused in on Scott Summers, watching him dispassionately, a half-empty bottle of tequila in his hand.

Oh. Yeah. That.

“Fuck.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. He was bare to the waist, and he watched for a moment as a red patch of burned skin in the center of his chest slowly faded. Damn, that itched.

“You know what’s funny?” Scott said meditatively. His voice had a slight slur.

“Not a damn lot right now.”

“What’s funny,” Scott continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “is that I think I actually got more upset at the idea of you sleeping with Rogue than I did at the idea of you sleeping with my wife. Now why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sleepin’ with Rogue,” Logan grumbled. Yet, he added mentally.

“And still the thought of it was enough to make me blast a hole through you. I didn’t do that before, when I found out about you and Jean. Why do you think that is?”

Logan figured a noncommittal grunt was his best option here, and so he supplied one.

Scott took a hit straight out of the bottle.

“Did you know Jean is six years older than me?”

Logan supplied noncommittal grunt number two.

“When I met her she was so...” Scott trailed off, taking another hit of tequila. “Just...so...everything. Smart, sophisticated, beautiful. And I was just some schmuck who could fry someone without even meaning to. Who couldn’t even look her in the eye. I never thought she’d even go out with me.”

He took another swig of tequila, and then after a pause held out the bottle to Logan.

Logan wordlessly took it, taking a deep swig of his own and then handing it back.

“Even since then. How she kept setting back our wedding date -- always some new reason. And the way she’d flirt with you right in front of everyone. Between me and her -- it was always her on top, you know?”

Logan did know, but stuck to noncommittal grunt number three.

“This connection we shared. Sometimes you choose what comes through, and sometimes you don’t. It’s just...there. And the last year or so, I’d get a sense...just every now and then...”

Scott held up the bottle, apparently judging if there was enough tequila to get him through before taking another hit.

“Six years older started to bother her, more than it ever did before. Suddenly she didn’t feel more sophisticated, more worldly. She just felt...older. She started getting needier. More insecure, wanting more reassurance from me. And I felt that, all of that, through our connection. And do you know what I did?”

He didn’t even wait for the grunt this time.

“Nothing,” Scott said bitterly. “That’s what I did. I didn’t try to reassure her. Didn’t tell her that she was still so damn beautiful that it hurts me to look at her sometimes. Didn’t tell her that she didn’t have to worry. Instead I just let it go. Felt how she watched Kitty and Jubilee and even Rogue when she came home on break -- she had known them as little girls and they were now beautiful young women. And she would watch them, wondering if I was watching them too. I could have told her any time that it wasn’t true, that no one would ever hold a candle to her, but I didn’t. Because I kind of liked it. Having her confidence shaken, a little bit.”

He took one more swig of the tequila before his arm dropped limply by his side. Logan gently removed the bottle from his hand.

“I kind of liked being on top for once,” Scott said in a near-whisper, as if to himself. “I thought it’d make things a little more even, make her feel like she was as lucky to have me as I was to have her. But it didn’t work out that way, did it? Instead it just sent her looking elsewhere for what I wasn’t giving her. For what I knew she needed, and was deliberately holding back. And even if it had worked out differently...I shouldn’t have wanted that. Shouldn’t have wanted to tear her down so that I looked better in comparison. Love shouldn’t be like that, don’t you think?”

His words were more slurred now, but the sunglasses were trained on Logan, looking for an answer this time. Logan looked down at his hands, thinking about it, trying to get the words right.

“I can’t say I know too much about love. Didn’t even know enough to recognize it when it was starin’ me right in the face, shinin’ right out of Rogue’s eyes when she looked at me. Or maybe I did recognize it, and it scared me so much I had to do somethin’ to screw it up. All this time lookin’ for you and thinkin’ about what I did and why, and I still don’t know for sure.”

He let the tequila trickle down his throat slowly this time.

“Maybe I was watchin’ Rogue, just like Jeannie was. Watchin’ a little girl grow up into a beautiful young woman, and thinkin’ that there was no excuse anymore. No way I could still pretend what she felt for me was just some teenage crush she’d get over, no excuse for not lovin’ her back except that I’m a fuckin’ coward and I don’t know how that goes. What was goin’ on with Jeannie and me -- that was somethin’ I could understand. I’ve never understood what’s been goin’ on with me ‘n Rogue. Never made any damn sense, how she gets to me -- slides right in under my skin in a way that nobody else ever has or will. Scares the crap out of me sometimes, how much of what’s good in this world for me is wrapped up in her.”

He took a final slug of the tequila and then put the bottle aside.

“Rogue told me that she knows me, and that I deserve love. I don’t know if I believe her about that second part, but I believe her about the first part of it. She’s got me in her head, and she knows me. And the way you ‘n Jeannie are, that connection you have -- you know each other too. If you’re askin’ me what love is supposed to be like, I can’t say for sure. But even when there’s love there -- real love, and that’s what Rogue says you and Jeannie have too -- there’s still people in the mix. And people fuck up, and make dumbass decisions, and hurt each other -- on accident or even on purpose. But maybe the love is the thing that gets them through all that. Lets them work it out, instead of just givin’ up on each other. And I don’t think you and Jeannie have given up on each other. If so, you’d both be at the mansion, ignorin’ the hell out of each other because you just didn’t care anymore. She wouldn’t be walkin’ around lookin’ like she’s been shot in the gut, and you wouldn’t be down here in Mexico kickin’ ass in a cage.”

Scott was silent for a long moment.

“I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say at one time,” he finally said.

Logan shrugged. “Just a theory.”

“Just a theory,” Scott repeated. He sighed. “I must be drunker than I thought, it sounds like a pretty good one to me.”

“Well, you’re pretty damn drunk,” Logan smirked.

“Yeah. I kinda am.” Scott rubbed his forehead. “Do me a favor. If I don’t remember this conversation in the morning, will you remind me about all that stuff?”

Logan looked him over. Scott’s head started to droop before he caught himself. He was probably not far from passing out.

With a sigh, Logan got up, digging in Scott’s duffle bag for his goggles.

“Close your eyes,” he said gruffly. “They closed?”

“Yeah.”

He took Scott’s sunglasses off, placing them carefully on the side table, and put the goggles on him, making sure the strap was secure across the back of his head.

“C’mon, you get to sleep now.” He heaved Scott up and walked him over to the bed. He covered him with the blanket, and turned to pull the curtains shut against the dawn light. He’d have a helluva headache when he woke up as it is.

“Logan...thanks,” Scott slurred sleepily.

“Yeah. Well, you just remember what I said. No chance of me sayin’ all of that right a second time.”

“Okay. And Logan?”

Logan paused at the door.

“Yeah?”

“If you break Rogue’s heart...I’ll blast your head off.”

Logan took in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. He moved in closer so Scott could see his face clearly. “If I fuck this up and break Rogue’s heart...” he said, his voice resolute, “I’ll ask ya to.”
______________

Logan waited impatiently for the mansion’s wrought-iron gate to open wide enough. The damned thing seemed to be moving slow as molasses, wide enough for the Jeep now but not yet for the trailer towing Logan’s motorcycle behind. Finally it clanked fully open and Logan started down the drive, just barely resisting the urge to gun the motor and send gravel flying. He wanted to see Marie again so badly his whole body was aching with it.

As dumb luck would have it, both Marie and Jean were outside as they pulled up in front of the mansion steps. Jean wore gardening gloves and Marie had mud on the knees of her jeans, and both of them seemed to be wrestling with a big bronze planter full of geraniums.

Both women straightened up, shading their eyes to look at the Jeep, and Logan saw the moment that Jean caught sight of his passenger. The blood drained from her face and she wobbled for a moment before Marie caught her arm, steadying her.

Next to him, Scott flinched back, his hand unconsciously flying up to his forehead.

“The connection, huh?”

Scott grimaced. “Yeah. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s trying to do it.”

Logan turned off the ignition and they sat in silence for a moment. The women seemed equally paralyzed, standing still at the bottom of the steps, gazing at the car, Marie bracing Jean with an arm tight around her shoulders.

Finally Logan leaned all the way back in the driver’s seat, stretching his legs out as best as he could in the footwell, and then turned to Scott.

“So...are you gonna let her in, or am I gonna hafta drive your sorry ass all the way back to Mexico?”

Scott turned slowly to meet his gaze, and then a smile started to creep over the corner of his mouth. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

Scott drew in a deep breath, and then slowly hissed it out through his teeth. “Here goes,” he said, closing his eyes. Within seconds he was spasming, arching backwards in his seat for a moment until it seemed to pass.

Logan turned his attention to Jean. She was on her knees now in the gravel, hair hanging down in a curtain over her face as Marie hovered worriedly over her. As Logan watched, Jean lifted her face. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her eyes were locked on Scott’s face, and her expression was a mixture of grief and regret...and blossoming hope.

Without another word Scott pushed open the car door, his boots landing on the gravel drive with a crunch. In three swift steps he was to Jean. He held his hand out to her, and after a moment of stunned suspension, she grasped it. He pulled her to her feet. Logan stepped out of the car, stretching his back, trying to look casual while inwardly resisting the urge to pounce on Marie.

“Have fun, you two,” he couldn’t resist calling after Scott and Jean, snickering as Scott flipped him off over his shoulder without even turning around.

Finally, he allowed himself to focus his attention on Marie, his heart seeming to stutter an uneven beat in his chest as a smile spread across her face, sweet and slow.

He must have come towards her as well, because suddenly she was up against him, wrapped tight to his chest, his face buried in her hair. He breathed in the scent of her, and it felt like coming home.

After a long moment, he felt her arms squeeze him even tighter and then let go. He reluctantly loosened his grip on her as well, and she took a step back, tipping her head up to smile warm and wide at him.

“I have to admit...of all the possible scenarios, the one I didn’t figure on was you an’ Scott road-trippin’ it home together,” she teased, her eyes shining brightly.

He gave her a mock-growl, smiling inwardly at the way it made her eyes dilate and her breath come a little faster. “Jeannie’s lucky he made it home without a claw through him. Tightass wouldn’t even let me have one beer while I was drivin’...”

Marie’s soft laugh washed over him, managing to simultaneously soothe and arouse.

“Well...let’s get you set up, then, before you do somethin’ rash.” He followed her to the staff kitchen, raising a cynical eyebrow as she shifted aside a few bags of spinach and pulled a six-pack of Molson out of the back of the crisper. “For just such an emergency,” she said, holding it up triumphantly.

He must have been frozen for some time, staring at her, no thought in his head except, God, I love her. Long enough for her to drop her eyes, shifting her weight nervously before peeking up at him through the fall of her hair. “What?” she asked.

He carefully drew her forward, pulling the six-pack from her hand and setting it carefully on the island, before deliberately closing the refrigerator door and backing her up against it. Slowly, slowly, he advanced until he could feel her warmth up the whole line of his body, their clothes brushing, their faces inches apart.

She was staring up at him now, her eyes wide in anticipation, her head falling back against the refrigerator door as he leaned in, closer and closer.

“Careful,” she breathed, and he could feel it thrumming through her, smell it on her skin, the trepidation and exhilaration, warring with each other in her small soft body. He hummed an acknowledgement, watching her eyes fall shut, thick lashes dark against her creamy skin as he brushed his lips against hers for the first time.

It was a chaste kiss, barely a skim of his lips over hers, but it rocked them both. Her breath gasped out in a warm puff against his mouth and he breathed it back to her, moving in again to place little nips and licks all over her mouth. A soft sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth, right there, where a smile was still lurking, and then a quick lick to the cupid’s bow of her upper lip. He felt his own lips smiling against her as he sucked her full lower lip into his mouth for a moment, feeling her sigh.

He heard the rumble of approval rising up in his own chest as she started to reciprocate -- cautiously at first and then more boldly, her little pink tongue darting out to taste, to try, to sample him as he was sampling her.

The feel of her hands on his chest -- first just skimming over the planes of his chest and then grasping, kneading, curling around his back to draw him in tighter -- almost brought him to his knees. He braced his hands firmly on the refrigerator door over her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her more deeply, his mind a chaotic tumble of home and Marie and love.

The thumping of her pulse drew his mouth down to where she was soft and warm and full of life. The scent of her filling his head as he laved the beat of her pulse, feeling it beat beneath his tongue in the same way she was beneath his skin now, part of him. She tilted her head even further back, murmuring the sweetest sounds he had ever heard, ohgod, and yes, and finally just Logan. The growl burst out of him and then he was truly lost, kissing her deeply, pouring everything he felt into her and feeling her match him in every way.

When he came to he was on the kitchen floor, his head in Marie’s lap. He could hear her voice, still thick with arousal but sharp now with fear and more than a little exasperation. He smiled.

“Stop grinnin’, you damn idjit!” He had rarely heard her accent so thick. “You said you’d be careful!”

He cracked his eyes open. Her cheeks were flushed with color, and her mouth was kiss-swollen. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life, and he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face if he tried. “Worth it,” he croaked.

She pushed his head off her lap, letting it fall to the hardwood with a loud clunk.

“Ouch,” he grumbled, pulling himself to sit up.

Fear suddenly gripped him. She was sitting back now against the refrigerator, her knees drawn up. Her eyes darted back and forth beneath closed eyelids, and he suddenly realized what he had done. He lunged forward to kneel in front of her, grasping her elbow.

“Oh fuck, Marie. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...” He was a goddamned asshole. He knew what she got from touch now, how could he have forgotten?

Her eyes snapped open suddenly, but instead of accusation, there was only joy -- with a hint of shock -- in the coffee-colored depths.

“You love me,” she said.

“Um,” Logan said. He cleared his throat, waiting for the right words to appear, with no luck. “Yeah,” he finally managed.

Marie’s eyes were still searching his face, her eyes wide and wondering. “You love me,” she repeated, with more conviction this time. “You love me, and...” her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Ew! You were thinking of me when you were with Jean? What the hell, Logan?”

“Um. Sorry?”

She smacked him hard on the shoulder, upsetting his still-unsteady balance to send him crashing down on his back again.

“Ouch!” he said again as his head got another crack, and then he forgot all about it because Marie was crawling up his body, straddling him, her elbows on his shoulders pinning him in place.

Her face was a mere inch from his, and he bucked his head up to capture her lips, groaning as she pulled back, keeping the slightest distance between them.

The smile was spreading across her face again. “You love me,” she told him again. “You’ve loved me for years, you jackass.”

He grunted. “Guess so.” She rewarded him with a soft, swift kiss and he couldn’t help smiling up at her.

“You love me too,” he said, a note of defensiveness in his tone.

She smiled wider. “Of course I do, you idjit.”

“Then maybe you could stop callin’ me names and smackin’ me around and go back to the kissin’,” he suggested.

She leaned back a bit, rocking against his groin, sending pleasure shuddering through him.

“I dunno,” she teased. “I think I have a few more names left to call you...”

“Marie,” he groaned, bucking up into her. "Please," he said, and finally she relented. She draped herself over his chest again, nibbling and licking at his mouth, until...

“Everything okay down there?” Jubilee smirked, craning over the kitchen island. “Did you and Wolvie slip on a banana peel or something, Roguey?”

Logan oofed as Marie jumped to her feet, blushing to high heaven. God, she was adorable.

“Everythin’ is just fine,” she said to Jubilee. Logan pulled himself to his feet, his limbs still heavy with the aftereffects of her mutation.

He looped an arm around Marie, pulling her close up against his side. “More’n fine,” he said with a grin. “Great. Me’n Rogue are just gonna head up to my room and...be fine up there for awhile.”

He drank in Marie’s little gasp of embarrassment as Jubilee looked from one to the other of them speculatively, popping her gum. “Uh huh,” she said blandly, as Logan started to tow Marie behind him toward the stairs.

“Logan, wait!” Marie pulled her hand out of his grasp and he wheeled around, his heart lurching. Was she having second thoughts?

Her eyes were bright with mirth. “Bring the beer.”

He looked back at the six-pack and then back at her. “God, I love you,” he said fervently.

Her smile was a promise. “I know.”