Love Will Tear Us Apart

By Victoria PJ

E-mail: shoe715@yahoo.com  <shoe715@yahoo.com>

Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and/or Fox. I do not own them and do not intend any infringement on their copyright. 

 

 

Rating: R - language

Summary: A rescue mission brings Scott back to New York to face Jean.

Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. Another hit of the 80s (1979, actually) and one of the most beautiful and depressing songs of all time by Joy Division. Also, I suck at action scenes, so forgive the lame action scenes. And props to Joss Whedon. You'll see why.

~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation

He was halfway to sleep when the call came.

~Scott, we need you. Ororo and Hank should be there shortly. I've let Logan know, as well. Storm will brief you on the situation.~

He sat up and rested his head in his hands. He'd known that, sooner or later, something would happen and the Professor would call. He'd had almost a year of freedom from the X-Men. Almost a year with his family.

Almost a year without Jean.

He sighed and pulled some clothes on. Even with the heat up, the January nights were nothing to be taken lightly.

Though he knew Logan enjoyed the cold, because it meant he could touch Rogue.

Logan and Rogue. In spite of himself, Scott smiled. Who would ever have guessed that they'd actually work as a couple? Yet somehow, they'd managed to become so firmly embedded in his consciousness that way, these past two months, that he could no longer imagine them apart.

Much as he and Jean had been, before.

But he wasn't going to think about that now.

Downstairs. Put up a pot of coffee, pull out the herbal tea he knew Ororo preferred, not even wondering why he'd bought it in the first place. He was on autopilot, still groggy. It had been months since he'd had to pull on a uniform and save the world, and he wasn't sure he was up for it.

Logan strolled in, looking slightly more awake than Scott, and mighty pissed in the bargain. Scott guessed he and Rogue had been occupied when Xavier's call came.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Rogue came trailing after him, wrapped in the big fleecy robe she'd gotten for Christmas. "Is everything all right?" she asked. She hadn't been included in the message, but Logan had filled her in.

He shrugged. "Hank and Storm will be here soon. You know as much as I do. I'm taking the boat out to meet them."

They sat silently in the cockpit, and she was proud that her hands didn't shake as she brought the jet in for a landing. There was a car waiting when they deplaned and still she said nothing.

Finally, Hank broke the silence. "It's okay to love him, 'Ro."

She thought she strained her neck, her head whipped around so fast. "What did you say?"

"I know you feel torn between good friends, but it's okay to love Scott more than Jean. What she did -- it's not easy to forgive, and I know you and Scott have always been close."

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course." She closed her eyes, thankful that he was driving after the long flight. If you only knew, she thought, and sighed in relief that her secret was still safe.

Scott was waiting for them at the dock, his glasses shining dully in the moonlight. He and Hank shook hands; when she held hers out for the same treatment he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

"I've missed you, Ororo," he said.

"And I, you," she replied, breathing in the scent of him, memorizing the feel of his hard body pressed against hers. This was all she'd ever have of him. She knew that. And yet...

The trip to the Inn was brief. Scott bustled them into a warm, cheery kitchen, where they found Rogue sitting in Logan's lap, giggling, his face buried in her neck. Storm smiled to see them so happy and Hank exclaimed, "Oh, my stars and garters! It's so good to see you two together, finally."

Rogue bounded into Hank's arms for a hug and Logan watched Storm carefully, aware that she'd been pretty angry with him when he'd left New York, all those months ago.

She smiled. "I am glad to see you've come to your senses, Logan."

He smirked. "Well, since you broke my heart, Marie's been kind enough to kiss it better." He rose and pulled her into a rough hug. He liked Storm, always had, and her good opinion meant more to him than he'd realized.

Hank outlined the situation for them. Apparently, one of Xavier's contacts in Canada had found a lab doing experiments on mutants. They were to go in, rescue the people being held captive, and turn over the offenders to the government.

"We should just burn the place to the ground," Logan growled.

~It may yet come to that,~ Xavier's thought came to all of them. ~I am disturbed by implications that the Canadian government is somehow involved in these experiments. Logan, you may find some information about your past, but I cannot guarantee anything.~

~The lab is just north of Peace River, in Alberta.~ Both Scott and Logan started at Jean's voice in their minds. She went on to give them complex instructions on the layout of the compound.

Scott strove to keep his emotions tamped down. Since the break-up, the bond between him and Jean -- the thing that kept them so close when they were together -- had been shut off. He knew it hadn't been, couldn't be, completely broken unless they both wished it to be. They'd been together too long, shared too much for that to happen, but he wasn't ready for it to be reopened completely. He didn't want his emotions seeping across the mental "wire," especially not with the others listening in.

~Storm has the floor plan of the complex. There are sewage tunnels that will lead you in from the north side of the building. The lab is in the northeast corner, on the second level down. Below that are the holding cells,~ Jean continued. ~The guards change shift at eight a.m., four p.m., and midnight. Set your watches to twenty-four hour time -- from here on out that's how we'll be discussing it.~

"Apparently, there are anywhere from thirty to fifty guards on-shift at one time." Storm took up the briefing.

"That's all?" Logan asked incredulously. "We should be able to handle that, no problem. Cyke and I alone--"

~Keep the killing to a minimum, Logan,~ Xavier warned. ~We'd like to be able to keep this clean and keep ourselves out of any official reports. If too many soldiers are killed, we will not be able to do that.~

Logan growled but subsided.

~Okay,~ Scott slipped easily back into Fearless Leader mode, his mind racing with strategies for keeping his people alive and making sure they got the prisoners out of the complex. ~Wolverine and I will handle the guards while Storm and Beast free the detainees. Rogue will stay with the Blackbird--~

"Hold it right there," Logan interrupted aloud, furiously. "Marie is not comin' along. This ain't a pleasure trip and her training--"

"Has been completed. I saw to it myself," Scott snapped. "She can handle the jet as well as any of us, and certainly better than you, Wolverine." He stressed the codename. This was a mission, and he was in charge here.

~Gentlemen,~ Xavier said, his mental voice as commanding as his physical one, ~need I remind you that there are more important things involved here than your egos? Rogue will guard the plane. Jean and I will monitor the facility via Cerebro. Check in the moment you arrive.~

Logan knew when he had been beaten. Rogue's face was aglow from the excitement of going on a real mission. He grumbled and cursed as the two of them headed up to their room to change.

Hank went out to the car to sort the supplies they'd brought with them, leaving Ororo alone with Scott.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, putting a hand on his arm.

He grinned tightly. "I'm fine, Storm."

"I do not mean as Team Leader, Scott."

The grin disappeared. He pushed her hair back from her face, his hand caressing her cheek gently. She inhaled sharply and bit her lip, trying not to show how much his touch affected her.

"I'll be okay, Ororo. But I have to think of the mission right now." He dropped his hand, and the moment was over.

She lowered her eyes. "Of course."

After changing into the leather uniforms Hank and Storm brought with them, Scott, Logan and Rogue joined their teammates on the Blackbird. The flight was bumpy but uneventful. Logan looked a little pale as they exited the jet into the cold, Canadian night.

Rogue snickered. "There are some things about you I'll never understand, sugar," she said as he shook the kinks out and rolled his neck. "You'd rather go into a building full of people trying to kill you and everyone like you than fly in a little bad weather."

Anyone else would have gotten the finger (or claw), but Logan just smirked at her. "Maybe if Cyke were a better pilot..." he muttered.

~We're here,~ Cyclops informed Xavier. ~It's 00:32 hours. We've missed the shift change. We're going in anyway.~

~There are forty guards on duty. No one else is on-premises,~ Xavier responded.

They left Rogue with the jet and moved purposefully toward the facility. Logan sniffed out the sewage tunnel easily enough, and they made their way stealthily through it. The entrance to the building was blocked by a large fan. Logan disabled it quickly; his adamantium claws cut through the whirling fan blades with ease. The metal screeched as it was torn and the X-Men ducked shrapnel as it came apart.

"We're aiming for stealth, Wolverine," Scott muttered, but Logan just grinned and climbed through the wreckage.

They found the holding cells without difficulty, and Hank, with his personally re-engineered Palm Pilot, was able to figure out the combination and open all the doors. There were six mutants being held -- four seemed healthy, one was bruised and had a bandaged arm, and the sixth was in terrible shape. He was blue and fuzzy, like Hank, but his ears were pointed and he had a tail. Scott was reminded of the gargoyles on the cathedral at Notrê Dame.

Klaxons rang out and strobe lights flashed. The clatter of the guards' boots on the hard tile floor chased them down the halls, back to the door that led to the sewers. Logan and Scott brought up the rear, ready to take on the soldiers when they appeared.

The guards came into view, guns drawn. Scott's hand went to his temple; he dialed down the beam and knocked the gun out of the first man's hand with a precise blast.

~There are more guards headed your way,~ Jean notified Storm. ~Take the stairway on the left. Go up two flights. That's the main level. You should be able to get out the front doors.~ Storm led the newly freed prisoners up the stairs, with Hank following behind, senses alert for more soldiers.

Xavier, meanwhile, directed Scott and Logan as they fought their way through a dozen guards, on the way back to the tunnel.

More men with guns awaited them at the entrance to the tunnel. The X-Men turned back the way they'd come, looking for the stairwell the others had used.

They were at the front doors when Scott was shot. Logan felt the berserker rage overtake him as he saw the other man go down, stumbling as his leg gave out and clutching his bleeding shoulder.

He shredded the man who'd fired the shot, and the others as well. When he came back to himself, his uniform was covered in blood -- not his own -- and torn in several places. Eight corpses littered the foyer.

"I'm gonna get you outta here, Cyke," he growled, lifting Scott off the ground and slinging him over his shoulder. ~Chuck, Scott's hit. We gotta light this place up to cover our tracks.~

~The others have made it to the jet,~ Xavier responded. ~There are more soldiers on the way, but you should be able to make it out if you hurry.~

Logan grunted and set off for the jet, which they'd left at the back of the facility, by the entrance to the tunnel. He kept up a running stream of comments designed to keep Scott from passing out, though he knew the younger man had lost a lot of blood, and had to be in a lot of pain. He made more and more outrageous remarks, hoping for an answer. Scott remained silent, conserving his strength and holding onto consciousness with all he had left.

He was fifty feet from the Blackbird when twenty soldiers in jeeps pulled up. "Goddamn fucking shit!" he shouted. "Chuck, you didn't warn me!" He froze for a moment, then Storm appeared in the doorway of the jet. Her eyes were already glazed over with white as she rose above the men and began calling lightning down from the sky.

The first jeep -- and the four men sitting in it -- exploded into flames. The remaining soldiers began firing at the weather goddess as Logan ran to the plane to deposit the fallen leader of the X-Men inside.

"Logan?" The single word contained all of Rogue's questions.

"Hank," the Canadian barked, "he's been shot twice - once in the calf, once in the shoulder. Flesh wounds, I think, but he's bleeding like a stuck pig."

The doctor went to work immediately; for once, he had nothing to say. Logan took in the scared faces of the six refugees. "Don't worry," he said. "we'll get you outta here. Rogue, get the jet ready for takeoff."

She nodded grimly and he went back outside to see how Storm was faring. She was still airborne, which was good, he thought, but he didn't think she'd be able to avoid getting hit much longer. Her lightning had fried two more jeeps, and the smoke was making it difficult for the soldiers to see her.

Two more bolts of electricity hit the facility and Logan realized she was trying to blow it up. The blue fuzzy mutant they'd rescued suddenly appeared in a puff of sulfur beside Logan. The older man leapt back in shock at his sudden appearance. He was so beat up Logan was surprised he could stand, let alone use his power.

"The generators," the fuzzy man gasped. "Tell her to hit the generators -- they are on the east side of the building, in that shed." *BAMF* He was gone.

Logan had lost his communicator in the fight, so he cast his mind out for Xavier.

~You don't have to shout, Logan,~ the telepath said. ~I've--~

He didn't need to finish the sentence. With deadly accuracy, Storm directed another strike, this time at the generator shed, which went up in flames. The fire spread rapidly; the soldiers were torn between putting it out and continuing to attack the X-Men. Storm sent a few more lightning bolts their way. The ones who were still alive fled.

Logan and Storm rushed into the Blackbird, and Rogue lifted off. "Good thing we brought you along," Logan muttered, as he settled into the copilot's seat. She flashed him a smug grin, aware that it was the only apology she'd get for his behavior earlier.

Ororo was trying to reassure their "guests" while simultaneously keeping an eye on Scott as Hank worked to get the bullets out and staunch the bleeding.

Rogue set a course for Westchester and prayed that they could get there before Scott lost too much blood.

2.
Jean and the Professor were waiting for them in the hangar when they landed at the mansion. Hank carried Scott off the jet and Storm hovered over him. Ororo's feelings for him were clear to anyone with eyes in their head, and Jean wasn't blind. She stifled a gasp and went into doctor mode as Hank took her ex-fiancé to the med lab.

Xavier came forward and introduced himself to the newcomers. "I am Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my school. You will be safe here," he said reassuringly. "We will take you to the med lab now, to patch up any injuries you may have, and then someone will show you to your rooms." He wheeled ahead of the group, leading the way.

Rogue escaped back to her old room. She really didn't want to face Jean, recalling how angry she'd been the last time she'd spoken to the woman. Logan trailed after her, uncomfortable at the tension he sensed in his lover's body and scent. He knew being back was hard for her, but he was determined to make it as easy as possible. He took her hand and led her into the bathroom, where he quietly stripped her of her uniform and stepped into the shower with her to help wash her clean.

"Your uniform," she started.

"It's trashed anyway," he responded. She knew his moods -- after a fight, he was generally feral and demanding in bed; it was only when he thought he'd screwed up that he exhibited such tenderness. It was his way of calming his fear of losing her again.

When he was done washing her, she stepped out and he peeled the torn and blood-stained leather from his body, washing away the residue of Scott's injuries. If he had been a little faster, he thought, maybe--

"You couldn't have prevented him from getting shot," Rogue said softly, interrupting his thoughts, as she combed the tangles out of her hair.

He pushed the curtain back, uncaring of the water that soaked the floor, and said, "How do you do that?"

She smiled. "I know you. Always have. Finish up. I'll be waiting."

He sped through his ablutions and found her curled up in the bed, wearing one of her old body-stockings.

He made love to her slowly and carefully that night, as if she were the most precious thing on earth. Then he wrapped his arms around her and she drifted off to sleep. He hoped he'd calmed her fears of any lingering feelings he might have for Jean. He finally succumbed to sleep himself, lulled by her even breathing.

In the med lab, things were far from calm.

Hank worked on stitching up Scott's wounds, while Jean examined the new arrivals. She couldn't think about what was happening to Scott, nor Ororo's reaction to it. The weather goddess refused to leave the lab. Jean chose to concentrate on the strange mutants, who introduced themselves one by one.

The blue fuzzy one was called Kurt Wagner. He was hurt the worst, with scabs and burn marks all over his body. As Jean worked on him, he tried to keep up a steady flow of flirtatious chatter, interrupted occasionally by grunts of pain.

Finally, it was all over, and Hank was at her side.

"Sit down, Jean," he said softly, his gentleness so at odds with his beastly appearance. "Scott is going to be fine. He lost quite a bit of blood, but we had enough on hand to transfuse him, and the bullets went through cleanly. He should have a couple of interesting scars, but no permanent damage to anything important." He put an arm around her and stroked her hair. "Do you want to stay with him? I'm going to see if I can't convince Ororo to go take a shower."

Jean looked over at the white-haired woman, who sat at Scott's side, clutching his hand tightly and watching him with her heart in her eyes. Her own heart seized up. She was going to lose him. Not to his wounds -- not this time, anyway -- but to her best friend. And to her own choices.

She blinked back the tears she'd managed to keep in check all night. She refused to cry while there was still work to be done. She had reports to type up and --

"Jean." Ororo stood in front of her. "You will watch over him?"

"Of course," she replied, swallowing her feelings.

Ororo let herself be led away by Hank. Jean rolled her chair over to Scott's side and found herself in the position Storm had just abandoned, clutching his hand and willing him to recover.

She remembered the last time she'd seen him -- the fight before he'd left for Alaska. She thought about how things had changed; it was obvious Rogue had accepted Logan's apologies. The girl had radiated a nervousness totally unrelated to the mission, and Wolverine had looked tense. He'd followed Rogue like a puppy and Jean had no doubt he was reassuring her right now that their love was more important to him than the fling he'd had with Jean.

Now, if she could only convince Scott of the same thing.

She began talking, her words tumbling over themselves. "I missed you. More than even I thought I would," she began. "Your physical presence, but also the traces of you -- your scent on the sheets, your voice in the hall, even your dirty socks that you throw under the bed." She chuckled through the tears that now fell, unrestrained. "No one ever believes me when I tell them what a slob you are about your clothes. They all think you're Mr. Pressed and Creased; only I know you can't use an iron to save your life." She went on in that vein for a while.

Then she told him about things that she'd done with the students -- outings they'd gone on, movies and museum trips -- "And the annual seniors camping trip. Oh, it was a mess without you, Scott. Hank tried, but he gets so caught up in his studies -- he wandered off in search of some plant, and Ororo and I had trouble setting up the tents. It's so girly to admit, but I hate camping. I only ever did it for you." She brought his hand to her lips. She closed her eyes and just breathed him in, reveled in the feel of his skin against hers.

"I never wanted us to end up like this, Scott. And I'm so sorry for what I did." She laughed again, this time bitterly. "But I suppose that needs to wait until you're awake. I can't get out of it this easily, I'm sure. But I've missed you in my mind most of all. It's so lonely without you there. Wake up for me, Scott. Please. I love you. Regardless of what happened before, or what happens next, remember that I love you."

She felt him stir then, and his hand squeezed hers lightly. "Ororo?" he asked hoarsely.

Jean sniffed and swallowed, preparing to answer him.

"Scott!"

Ororo rushed the side of the bed. Jean dropped the hand she'd been holding.

"'Ro, you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Scott. You had us a bit worried, though," she replied.

He laughed weakly. Then, "Jean?" It was little more than a breath.

"I'm here, Scott."

"Been a while, huh?" he said, striving for a lightness of tone none of them felt.

"Yeah. You rest now. Ororo's going to stay with you. I've-- I've got some things to finish up," Jean answered, like crying over you.

She walked to her office; Storm followed. "Jean--"

Jean shook her head and turned to face her best friend. Their eyes met and Jean looked away first. "I -- I just need some time, 'Ro. I don't know what to say."

"I think that is my line," Ororo replied. "My apologies for--"

"No. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. To you, to Scott, to Rogue and Logan. God, I never thought my life would turn into Melrose Place." She ran a hand over her tired eyes.

Ororo nodded; she understood. That was the worst part, Jean thought. Everyone understood.

"I will watch over him," the weather witch murmured, and she went back into the lab, leaving Jean alone in her office, with her thoughts.

3.
It was still dark when Rogue awoke. Neither she nor Logan was an early riser by nature, but she needed to know that Scott was all right. She looked down at Logan's sleeping face, so gentle and handsome in repose, without the usual grimace or smirk he wore to keep the world at bay. She pressed a kiss to his cheek through his sideburn. He muttered, but didn't wake.

She thought she could watch him sleep forever and be content. She thought about how she'd almost missed out on the experience, and worried, even though he tried to reassure her, that her love wouldn't be enough to hold him. She worried that now that they were back, Jean would exude her siren's song again, and once more, she and Scott would be left alone.

She knew now that such a change of heart would break her. She was amazed that Scott had survived at all. It's one thing, she told herself, to know that the one you love doesn't love you. It has to be much worse to have love die right before your eyes.

She dressed and slipped quietly out of the room and down to the lab. Ororo was asleep in the chair at Scott's side, her head pillowed on his stomach, his hand tangled in her white locks. Rogue was surprised at how not surprised she was. A year ago, it would have been Jean in that chair. But the events of the last ten months had changed everything, and somehow, the idea that Ororo had spent the night watching Scott sleep seemed right.

Maybe more than just the wounds inflicted last night would heal, she thought. Maybe Scott could make a new start with Storm. He deserved happiness. They both did.

She heard papers rustling, then, and the hushed voices of Hank and Jean, so low she couldn't make out the words.

Hank came out of Jean's office; he looked startled at her presence, but smiled. "Good morning, Rogue. Up with the sun today?"

"I came to check on Scott," she replied, smiling in return. Hank always made her want to smile. And he was the only person she could touch -- Well, she amended, unless the temperature is below freezing. -- because of the fur that covered his skin. They both spoke quietly, so as not to wake Scott or Storm.

"He's doing well," the doctor replied. "He should be up later this morning. I am going to have breakfast now, Rogue, but I shall see you later. You can tell me all about your Alaskan adventures."

"I will, Hank."

He left and she found herself drawn, almost against her will, to Jean's office. She hadn't spoken to the woman since their confrontation the day before she'd left. Maybe it was time to make peace.

"Hey," she said softly, leaning on the doorjamb of the office.

Jean looked up from the chart she was reading. "Rogue."

"Hank said Scott's gonna be all right."

Jean smiled. "Yeah."

Rogue took in the circles under her eyes, the tiny lines that radiated out from the corners of her eyes. Those hadn't been there last summer. And those green eyes were bloodshot and swollen --from crying, from lack of sleep, from the sheer hell of worrying that the man she loved was going to die, regardless of the knowledge that he was healing, sleeping just a few feet away. With another woman watching over him. Rogue felt their roles reverse in that moment, felt herself become the adult she had tried to convince everyone she was.

"How are you?" It was a simple question, but Jean wasn't stupid. There was a wealth of meaning in it.

"I'm okay. How are you?" the redhead responded cautiously, waiting for Rogue to take the lead.

"Much better, now that I know Scott is okay," Rogue said.

"You two are close," Jean prompted.

"He's like the brother I never had. When I saw him bleeding, I--" she stopped to wipe away the tears that slid down her cheeks. To buy herself a little time to regain her composure, she pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and redid her ponytail.

"I know. When he was shot--" Jean turned away and stared unseeingly at the wall to her right. The paint is cracking, she noted absently, amazed at her capacity to notice little things when the big things were going on around her. "I didn't feel him. Always before, even if we were apart physically, I'd be there with him. But even when he was getting shot, he didn't let me in." Her voice broke and she found herself sobbing again.

Rogue moved awkwardly into the room. She put her arms around the older woman and pulled her face against her stomach. Jean clung to her, and she stroked her back gently, soothingly, making soft shushing noises.

"I'm so sorry," Jean choked out eventually, "for everything. For hurting you, for hurting Logan. And oh, God, Scott. What I did to Scott..."

"Sshh. He loves you," Rogue murmured.

"Yes," Jean answered, "but he'll never take me back. I realized that last night, when he wouldn't let me in."

"You're overwrought, Jean. Give him time," Hank said, appearing suddenly in the doorway. Rogue shot him an anxious, grateful look.

Jean swallowed and released her hold on Rogue. "You're right, of course, Hank. I'm overwrought. I'm sorry I subjected you to this, Rogue. I--"

"No, no," Rogue said quickly, her mind racing as things clicked into place. "This was the best thing." She shook her head. "I don't mean-- I'm sorry, too. I never, I never saw you as a person, Jean, until just now. And, and I'm sorry about that." She rushed from the room, leaving Hank and Jean staring at each other in shock.

"Our little girl has grown up," Hank said tenderly, pushing a lock of Jean's hair behind her ear and gently thumbing away the tracks of her tears.

"Yes. She has."

Rogue stopped at Scott's bedside long enough to drop a kiss on his glasses (Hank had exchanged them for the visor once Scott was asleep), where it wouldn't hurt him. She was fighting back tears herself, and wanted nothing more than for him to wake up and comfort her, as he'd done so often back in Juneau.

And then she remembered Logan. She ran back to their room, praying he hadn't woken yet. She slipped inside the door as quietly as she'd slipped out earlier, and breathed a sigh of relief. He was still in bed.

"Scooter's okay?"

His voice in the near-dark of the room startled her and she squeaked. "Yeah. Hank said he'll be fine."

"Good," he rumbled. "How about you?"

"How about me what?" she asked.

"You okay?" His nostrils flared. She smelled like -- "You saw Jeannie."

She swallowed convulsively. "Yeah."

He patted the bed beside him. "C'mere, Marie." He didn't miss the hesitation before she joined him, and he cursed.

"She's pretty torn up," Rogue murmured, settling herself tailor-style on the bed. "She still loves Scott." A pause, then, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked curiously.

"That she never loved you. That you never loved her."

He blinked and tensed, trying to figure out where she was going with this. "If she had -- if I had -- you and I wouldn't be together now."

"I know." Her face was in shadow, turned away from him. He caressed the long, graceful column of her neck with his eyes and prayed she wasn't going to end things with him because of the mistakes he'd made. "And I wouldn't change us for anything.

"But you hurt. And she hurt. All of us -- you, her, Scott, 'Ro, me, even Hank and the Professor -- were hurt by what happened. We're a family, and we were fighting." She sighed. "And I think someone's still going to be hurting when this is all over."

"What do you mean?" he asked, relieved that his fear was, for the moment, unfounded.

She turned and looked him in the eye. "Ororo is in love with Scott."

He blinked again, and everything tumbled into place. Her refusals of his advances over the years, her disdain when he and Jean began sleeping together -- it all made sense now. He let out a long, low whistle. "Poor 'Ro."

Rogue shook her head. "Poor Jean."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You really think--" She stopped him by leaning forward and placing a gloved finger to his lips.

"No more talk about them," she murmured, moving her knees so she was on all fours before him. "Make love to me, Logan. Now."

He was only too happy to comply.

4.
Over the next few days, Jean and Storm took turns watching over Scott as he healed. But every time Jean tried to speak to him about something other than their work or his health, his mouth tightened and he turned away. He spoke with Hank, and silently thanked the gentle giant for his unwavering devotion to Jean over the years. He joked with Rogue about being out of practice as an X-Man. And he spent hours with Ororo, hours that seemed to fly by effortlessly as they talked about everything that had happened in their time apart. But he couldn't bring himself to have the conversation with Jean that he knew they both needed to have.

He still loved her. He admitted that -- some part of him would always love her. He'd even forgiven her. But he couldn't bring himself to trust her again. He was too afraid that he'd come up short a second time. Maybe it was cowardly, but he didn't think his heart could take it. And he hated feeling distrustful of the woman with whom he'd planned to spend his life. One more plan shot to hell, he thought grimly.

He'd begun weaning himself away from her while he was in Alaska. He'd laughed and flirted with other women, telling himself that talking was nothing to feel guilty about. There's nothing wrong with being attracted to other people, he reminded himself, after he found his eyes following Ororo's progress across the lab. It's what you do about it that matters.

He sighed. He couldn't believe he was thinking about 'Ro while he was trying to figure out what to do about Jean. It made him feel -- sleazy. He didn't want to hit on the woman who'd been his best friend for years. And he certainly didn't want to use her as a rebound girl.

He now understood what the temptation Jean had felt must have been like. He understood that Logan was everything he was not. Ororo was different from Jean -- serene, centered, sure of herself, and self-contained. He found himself wondering about what she'd be like in bed -- who her lovers had been, and why she'd never brought them to the mansion. They were close friends, and though she'd given him relationship advice many times over the years, she'd never discussed her own heart with him. Some friend you are, he berated himself.

He was up and walking now, with a cane, and he spent the better part of his day sitting in 'Ro's solarium on the roof, soaking in the weak winter sun through the glass, chatting with her about his plans for the students, now that he was back, or her plans for the garden come spring.

Finally, his doctors allowed him outside. It was one of those mild late February days that instills the hope of spring. He sat on a bench, injured leg stretched out in front of him, and reveled in having nothing to do -- no papers to grade, no guests to cater to, no evil mutants to fight.

He caught a whiff of cigar smoke, and knew Logan was somewhere in the gardens. He was sure the other man was aware of his presence, as well, but they didn't speak. They'd come to a wary truce in Alaska. Logan spent most of his time with Rogue, but even he hadn't pushed to move into the Inn with her. He and Scott grunted their hellos and goodbyes and basically stayed out of each other's way. Logan had made his case the morning he'd come for Rogue, and Scott respected the other man's candor and willingness to take it slow. He hadn't wanted to be won over by the relationship, had wanted to reserve judgment until he was sure the bastard wouldn't intentionally hurt the young woman, but Rogue's glow of happiness whenever Logan was around, or mentioned, had convinced him.

As long as he kept her happy, Scott was willing to put up with him and try to forgive what had happened with Jean. It still left a sour taste in the back of his throat when he thought about it, but even that was beginning to fade.

He was just about to go inside and get some coffee when he heard her voice.

"Logan."

"Jeannie."

"We haven't spoken since you got back."

Scott didn't need to look to see the man shrug. "Not much to talk about. Scooter's doin' all right. The kids we rescued have taken to this place like ducks on a pond, and we got to burn down that damn torture factory."

"I want to apologize--"

"No." It was said in a flat, final tone that brooked no argument.

"Logan, please--"

"No," he repeated. "I was a prick. I was weak and stupid and I almost lost the most important thing in my life. You have no reason to apologize to me. You need to straighten things out with Cyke."

"I-- I don't know what to say." Jean was flustered. It wasn't something anyone got to see (or hear) often, but Scott knew her well enough to know that her hair was probably coming out of the barrettes she used to keep it off her face while she was working, and her arms were probably crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her biceps.

"Then don't say anything."

"She's grown up."

"She certainly has. Marie is a spectacular woman, Jeannie. She's beautiful and smart. The only thing she ain't too smart about is me. I don't know why she's dumb enough to love me, but I ain't about to question it."

Scott recalled Logan's words to him the morning he'd come to the Inn -- "She makes the world right. Knowin' that Marie is around makes me think there's something worth fightin' for."

Jean laughed, snapping Scott out of his memories. "She loves you because of who you are. I don't think that's dumb. You're a good man, Logan. I'm sorry I took advantage of you, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Past is past, Jeannie. Like I said, I ain't the one you need to say sorry to."

"I know." She hesitated, and Scott held his breath. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

"He loves you." Logan was a man of few words and not afraid to get to the point.

"Enough to forgive me? Even though I don't deserve it?"

"Forgiveness ain't something you earn, it's something you need. And the people who deserve it least are usually the ones who need it most." Again, Scott was surprised at the man's depth and compassion. "He'll forgive you. Marie will, too. Hell, she forgave me and I don't deserve it. The question is, will we ever forgive ourselves?"

Scott heard his boots crunch on the wet gravel of the pathway as he walked away, and pondered those words.

He was still sitting in the garden when Ororo found him.

"You should be inside, Scott," she scolded. "The temperature is dropping and you are not dressed for it." Though she would change the weather to suit him, she reflected.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled at her, but made no move to rise.

She dropped down on the bench next to him. He took her hand absently, staring off into space. Her breath caught at the circles his thumb made on the back of her hand. He has no idea what he does to me, she thought wistfully.

"Logan is good for Rogue," he said abruptly.

"Yes."

"I just never thought I'd say that," he said with a laugh.

"Love sometimes defies all logic, Scott," she answered softly, thinking of her own impossible feelings for him.

He turned to face her then. "Yeah. Yeah, it does." His other hand came up to cup her chin, his thumb stroking the broad sweep of her cheekbone. She closed her eyes and swallowed, licking her lips nervously.

His thumb followed the path she traced with her tongue and she stopped breathing altogether. When his lips met hers, she thought she would die. Scott is kissing me! she exulted silently.

His tongue played gently along her lips and she gasped, opening her mouth to him. Her hands crept unnoticed into his hair as his tongue explored her mouth before rubbing against hers, letting her get used to the taste and feel of him. She heard moaning and realized it was her own voice.

The sound brought him back to reality and he broke away from her. His face, so hard to read usually, was an open book. He looked stunned, and not in a good way.

"I'm so sorry," he said raggedly. Then he got up and left, hurrying along as fast as his injured leg would carry him, forgetting his cane and leaving Ororo staring after him, wondering what had gone wrong.

5.
He made it back to his room -- the room he'd moved into on his return, since he was obviously never going to be sharing with Jean again -- without running into anybody. He was glad, because he was afraid they'd be able to tell what he'd done. That it would be written all over his face: "Hi, I'm an idiot. I just made a pass at my best friend because my fiancée cheated on me and I'm too scared to tell her it's over, but I'm horny as hell and Ororo is all I can think of."

He clenched his eyes shut so he could remove his glasses and rest his head in his hands comfortably. His leg ached from his sprint up the stairs and his shoulder -- which had felt fine when he'd wrapped an arm around 'Ro, trying to get as close to her as he could without actually being inside her -- had started to throb dully.

What kind of asshole was he, that he could put the moves on Storm so soon after realizing he'd never go back to Jean, even if he did forgive her?

Did he forgive her?

He examined that thought, turned it over in his head until he felt he had the right answer. He did. He really and truly did. She had made a mistake -- a huge one -- and had broken his trust, but he would forgive her, because to do otherwise would be to just torture them all a little while longer, and he didn't want that. He would forgive her because it was right, yes, and he was Scott Summers, who always did the right thing. But mainly he would do it because he was tired of being hurt and angry. When he thought about it, forgiveness was probably the only thing that would ease the ache in his chest.

"I forgive her." He said it out loud, trying the words on, and he did indeed feel as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He would stop avoiding her; he had to tell her, because, from the sound of her voice in the garden, she was at a breaking point.

Then he thought again about his behavior with Ororo, and his shoulders slumped. He still had that mess to clean up; but he was too tired to think about it now.

He put his sleeping glasses on, curled up on the bed fully clothed, and went to sleep.

Ororo remained on the bench where Scott left her, wondering if she was going to lose his friendship. It had been so good, seemed so right to finally be in his arms, but she was afraid he was only seeing her as a substitute for Jean. At that moment, she wished fervently for the power to read minds, if only so she could find out what he was thinking. Usually she could read him -- she had years of experience at it -- but she was baffled. Normally, with a romantic problem, she would go to Jean, but how could she in this situation? "Hello, Jean. I am in love with Scott and I just kissed him. How can I make him love me back? You don't want him anymore, do you?" She laughed grimly at herself as she made her way inside for dinner.

That night, the skies above the mansion were filled with heavy, ominous clouds that seemed to begin at ground level and stretch out to the horizon, bringing cold, stinging rain with them.

The dark clouds remained, hovering over the mansion for the next two days. Ororo taught her classes and disappeared back into her rooftop sanctuary. Both Hank and Xavier had tried to speak with her, but she put them off, saying she was just a little tired. Neither believed her, but they weren't ready to push just yet.

Scott began spending his afternoons in the hangar, working on the Blackbird, wondering how he could apologize to Ororo. If he had feelings for her -- and he was pretty sure he did -- he wanted to make sure he wasn't just using her as a rebound from Jean. He was going to wait and take it slow, and see what her feelings were for him. He comforted himself with the fact that she had returned his kiss.

But first, he had to speak with Jean.

He finally went to see her in her office. He hadn't been in there since before he'd left. In seven days, it would be a year since he'd gone to Alaska. A year since his life had fallen apart. Strangely, he felt that he was about to rebuild it, and tying up the loose ends of that year was the last thing he needed to do before he could start.

He watched her as she typed furiously at her computer. She had a pencil in her mouth and one in her hair, which was, as usual, coming out of the clips that held it off her face. She was beautiful. He sighed and she turned around.

"Scott! I didn't hear you come in."

"Hi, Jean."

She pushed a stack of folders off the visitor's chair and said, "Sit. Don't want you straining the leg."

"Yes, doctor," he replied, smiling.

"I'm glad you stopped by--" she began.

At the same time, he said, "I think we need to talk."

They laughed awkwardly, nervously, and she said, "You go first." She swallowed nervously, knowing how much depended on what he was about to say.

"I love you, Jean. I always have. But this--" he waved a hand between them, "is never going to be like it was."

"I know," she replied. "And I'm so sorry. So sorry for cheating. I was wrong. I know that. I knew it then. I was weak. But if you forgive me, we can start over --"

"I forgive you," he said immediately, cutting her off. "There's no question of that."

She felt the smile start to creep across her face before she realized he wasn't finished. "But--" she prompted. "There's a but, isn't there."

"Yeah," he sighed, rising and running a hand through his hair. There wasn't room enough in the small office for him to pace, but he did it anyway. Three steps forward, two steps back. Much like their relationship in the past few years. "But I don't trust you anymore. And I can't live like that."

She put a hand to her mouth to stifle her cry of dismay, and he could see the tears form in her eyes. "Scott, please, just give me a chance--"

He shook his head. He sat back down and took her hand in his. "It's obvious to me now that there were other problems in our relationship, Jean. Sure, you were tempted, but if I had been enough, if I had been more like Logan, you wouldn't have strayed. I understand that. I do--"

Her hand left her lips and gripped his tightly, holding it between both of hers. "No, Scott, no!" she exclaimed. "It was never you. Let me -- may I show you?" she asked. He nodded and she felt his shields slip down, felt his mind mingle with hers for the first time in a year. She saw his pain at her betrayal, his anger, and his belief that he had been at fault -- that his inadequacy in some capacity had been what drove them apart. That made her feel worse than everything else. She had taken this beautiful man and broken his confidence in himself, in his ability to love her. Her heart ached at the pain she had caused.

Scott, on the other hand, saw her sorrow, her remorse at what she'd done -- her feelings of guilt and shame at causing pain to so many other people -- himself, Rogue, Logan, even Ororo. He latched on to that last one. She'd known Ororo had feelings for him, yet he'd never seen it. He knew Jean was being honest with him now -- she'd never be able to lie to him with their minds in such close contact -- but he couldn't bring himself to fully trust her. He would always be afraid that it would happen again -- if not with Logan, then with someone else.

When she realized that, she let go and sobbed, unable to believe their love for each other wasn't enough to keep them together. She sensed his growing feelings for Ororo, his confusion about the situation, and his wonder that the weather goddess might return them.

He held her pressed to his chest as she cried, shedding tears of his own.

"I love you," she murmured brokenly, "but you're right. I never wanted this to happen but I have to live with the consequences of what I did."

"I love you, too," he replied, "but I'm not in love with you any longer. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed, but I'm glad this happened before we got married. You can keep the ring. I don't, I don't want it back."

"I don't mean to sound trite," she whispered through her tears, "but will we still be friends?"

"Always."

"About Ororo--" she said, trying to get her crying under control. "She loves you very much."

He stroked her cheek gently. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking as he also tried to staunch his tears.

He wiped his cheeks on his sleeve and walked out. Hank stood at the far end of the lab, hunched over a microscope.

"She needs you, Henry," he said.

"I'm so sorry," Hank replied.

"Don't be. And, well, you never know what might happen, a few months down the road."

Hank smiled sadly. "I'm not even thinking of that, but thank you, Scott."

"I know you love her," Scott said.

"We all do."

"Yeah."

With that, Scott made his way back to his room, crying himself into exhaustion at the end of his relationship with Jean.

6.
He spent the next few days alone in his room. The one exception, the one person he could never say no to, was Rogue. She knocked at his door late the third evening after he'd spoken with Jean.

"Can I come in?"

His mouth quirked in a half-grin as he opened the door. "Logan know you're here?"

"He's wrapped up in a poker game with Hank, Jubes and Remy. I know better than to play with those guys. Jubilee cheats!" He laughed and she held up the DVDs. "'Ball of Fire' or 'It Happened One Night'?"

"'The walls of Jericho are tumbling down,'" he quoted. "Definitely 'It Happened One Night.'"

During their time together in Alaska, they'd spent many a night watching old movies and commiserating about their broken hearts.

She put the DVD in the player and bounced onto the bed. He crawled under the covers and fixed the pillows so they were both propped up comfortably.

She didn't push him to talk, but halfway through the movie he pressed stop and said, "I wish I could turn back time. I wish I'd asked dad to come here instead of going to Alaska to see him."

Rogue put an arm around his shoulders and drew his head down onto her chest. "I don't think it would have mattered at that point, Scott. They made their choice, and we have to live with it." She sighed. "I know, I know, that's easy for me to say -- I got what I wanted, while you got the short end of the stick. But I'm still--" she trailed off uncertainly.

"He loves you," Scott said when she didn't speak for a few moments. He hesitated, wondering if he should share what he'd learned that day in the garden. "I overheard him telling Jean that you're the most important thing in his life. I never heard him sound so, so humble. You don't need to worry."

She snuffled, and he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, objectively, that he's sorry -- he even, he even showed me -- he touched me, you know? But now Jean's free and she's sad and --"

He brushed gently at the tears that began to fall, using the cuff of his shirt. "Jean wouldn't do that. And more importantly, Logan wouldn't do that. They've learned. They were hurt just as much as we were, Rogue. It just took a while longer for their wounds to surface."

"You're right. I know you're right."

"I am," he stated confidently. "I'm the Fearless Leader of the X-Men, after all. I am never wrong."

That got her giggling, which made him laugh, because it was such a wonderful sound, after all the crying they'd done together over the past year.

"Hey," he said, when their laughter subsided a little, "you know I love you, right? You're one of my best friends."

"Oh, Scott," she said, and starting crying again, but she assured him, "these are happy tears." After getting up and washing her face, she rejoined him on the bed, allowing him to curl his body around her, though he was under the comforter and she was on top.

He was going to restart the movie when she said, "So how about Ororo?" He felt his jaw drop. "Oh, my," she continued, her accent thickening as she began laughing at him, "I don't think I've ever seen you look so stunned."

"How do you know -- has she said anything? I mean, what about Ororo?"

She snickered. "Nice try, Summers. I know she's in love with you. Has been for years, I bet. I don't know what happened, but why do you think we've been having this nasty weather? I mean, we had a couple of beautiful days after she found out you'd survive, and then, boom! The black clouds rolled in and took up residence."

"I uh, um, I uh kissed her," he mumbled.

"That's great!" she exclaimed. He shook his head. "It's not great? Why is it not great? What did you do, Scott?"

She couldn't see his eyes, but she had a feeling they were a little wild. "I, I don't want to take advantage of her. I don't want her to be the transitional woman. So I, I apologized and, um," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I ran away. I've been avoiding her ever since."

She smacked him on the shoulder. "Jesus, Scott! You never apologize to a woman for kissing her, if she enjoyed it! That makes it seem like you didn't want to do it." She shook her head. "I'm amazed you ever got anyone to go out with you at all."

"Me, too."

"Oh, no, you don't. No more pity parties. We're gonna work this thing out, and you're going to fix it with 'Ro."

"But, but," he sputtered.

"But me no buts, Summers," she said loftily. "You'll do as I tell you or I'll get Logan after you."

"Yes, Rogue," he muttered gracelessly.

"Ungrateful wretch."

"Bossy cow."

"Put the movie back on."

"Yes, ma'am."

It was one am by the time the card game broke up. Logan wandered back up to the room he shared with Rogue, already planning on playing Prince Charming (or Prince I-Just-Won-Fifty-Bucks-at-Poker, in any case) to her Sleeping Beauty.

Except she wasn't there -- hadn't been in all night, the bed was still made; it wasn't even warm. He cast his mind back to when she'd left the rec room, murmuring something about movies and Scooter.

He moved down the hall, tracking her scent to Scott's room. Pushing open the door, he saw them curled up on the bed, asleep. She was on top of the covers, and Scott was beneath, his cheek pillowed on her hair.

*Snikt*

He took a deep breath and retracted the claws. He knew they'd become close in their time together, away from the mansion, and he wasn't about to jump to conclusions. He knew Marie loved him, and neither of them was the type of person who would cheat. Unlike himself. And the room smelled only of Scooter's light cologne and Marie's vanilla perfume -- no smell of sex permeated the air.

As Logan bent and picked Marie up gently, cradling her against his chest, he sensed rather than saw Scott awaken

"You're a lucky man," Scott whispered.

"I know."

Logan took her back to their room, gently undressed her and put her to bed. He could smell the salt of her tears, see the slight puffiness around her eyes, and he prayed to a God he didn't believe in that he hadn't screwed up again.

He slid into bed next to her fully clothed, enveloping her body in his. If he had messed up, he could wait to find out until morning. He didn't want to lose what could be his last night sleeping in her arms.

Logan woke to see her staring at him, brown eyes sleepy and warm.

"Mornin', sugar."

"Marie," he whispered, running a hand through one of the white streaks framing her face.

"You win last night?"

"Yeah, though that damned Cajun is hard to beat." He wasn't interested in bragging about his winnings now.

"Scott and I fell asleep, huh?"

"Yeah. But it's okay. I brought you home safe."

"I see that." She paused and he held his breath, waiting for the bomb to drop. "I told Scott that he's gotta make things right with Ororo or I'd sic you on him."

"So he likes her back?" Logan asked, feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. It would be a long time before he stopped worrying about her leaving him, he knew.

"Yeah. I think he kinda does." She pursed her lips. "And you know what else? I think Hank's got it bad for Jean." She sighed contentedly. "Everything may just work out after all."

"Is this a chick thing, this matchmaking?"

"Oh, like you guys weren't gossiping about it last night during the card game," she teased.

"Men don't gossip. And before you say anything, none of us listens to Jubilee anyway. Girl talks more than you do."

"Mmm. You seem to like it when I talk in bed, sugar." She grinned, then, a slow sultry smile that usually preceded sex.

"That's different," he said, already hard for her.

"You know, we skipped our nightly ritual," she drawled, draping one long leg over both of his and straddling him, feeling his arousal.

"You seemed tired," he responded. "I wanted you to get some sleep. I don't wanna wear you out."

She rocked gently against him. "Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that, Logan. I can keep up with you. After all, I am young enough to--"

He sat up suddenly and cut her off with a kiss, using one of her ever-present scarves as protection. He didn't like to talk or think about their age difference, though she joked about it occasionally.

Soon, all thoughts of Scott and the other inhabitants of the mansion were forgotten as they made love repeatedly throughout the morning.

When Scott saw Logan later that morning, the Canadian growled, "You do what Marie tells you, bub. Or it's not gonna be pleasant for either of us, ya hear?"

Scott rolled his eyes, though Logan couldn't see. "She got to you, huh? I was hoping she'd forget."

"Just fix whatever you screwed up, all right? I don't wanna have to come get my girl outta your bed anymore."

"Fine," Scott responded. As he walked away he muttered, "You are so whipped."

"I heard that!"

Scott made his way up to the attic room that made up Ororo's kingdom and called out, "'Ro?"

She looked down from the solarium and said, "Come up, Scott. I am just preparing to put these bulbs in the ground." She indicated several pots that she'd moved inside during the winter.

He climbed up the ladder and asked, "Do you need help?"

"The children will do it. They enjoy helping me with the gardening. I think because it gives them an excuse to get dirty." She walked toward the far corner of the bright room.

He smiled awkwardly. He wasn't there to make small talk, after all. "Ororo, I need to tell you -- I'm not sorry I kissed you," he blurted.

She whirled to face him. "Scott?" she asked, her voice deepened with emotion.

He closed the distance between them quickly, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "I, I don't know how to do this, 'Ro. But I do have feelings for you."

"And Jean?"

"You know I loved her -- love her still. But not the way I used to. Not the way I think I feel about you." He raised his other hand to cup her cheek. "I don't want this to be some sort of sympathy thing."

"Believe me, Scott, I do not wish to be used as her substitute." She turned her face to brush her lips against the palm of his hand. "I have loved you for so long, Scott. I am willing to wait a while longer."

Then she raised her hand and took his, leading him to a corner of the atrium. She pointed at a green stalk that was just beginning to bud. "Dendobrium superbum," she said. "A type of orchid, very easy to grow. You must withhold food and water all winter, until the buds are fully formed. It is hard, to watch the blossoms wither and die. But come spring, with the appropriate care, it will bloom with beautiful purple flowers." She faced him again. "All things have their proper time."

He lowered his face to kiss her, then, gently, chastely, but with a promise of things to come.

End

~~*~~