All Good Things Chapters 6 through 10 by Liz Collins
Disclaimer: No, I don't have permission to use Marvel's characters. Yes, I used them anyway. You'll have to stand in line to sue me, so don't even bother. This story is purely the product of my overactive imagination. :)
CHAPTER 6
Thanksgiving and Christmas came and went. The others' lives seemed to have returned to normal, but Jean naturally still felt alone and sad. She knew she had purposely distanced herself from almost everyone except the Professor, but she couldn't seem to reach out to anyone else.
She realized she particularly closed herself off when Logan was around and he steered clear of her as well. She knew it was probably due to a feeling of guilt she harbored because she had allowed herself to care so deeply for another man while she was in love with Scott. She considered Logan one of her dearest friends and, in fact, she had recently begun to miss him. She couldn't bring herself to go out with the others to celebrate on New Year's Eve. She settled down by the fireplace in the sitting room with the radio and a good book. She felt lonely, but she didn't want to go out. After a few hours, she turned off the reading lamp and sat staring into the fire.
About 11:30 she heard the sound of boots creaking across the floorboards. It was Logan.
"Hi, Logan. I thought you went with the others!" she exclaimed, surprised to see him back before midnight.
"I did," he said, taking a seat and wrestling out of his jacket. "I got bored." He put his feet up on the footstool and lit a cigar. "Plus I kinda felt bad leaving ya by yourself an' all."
"I'm okay, really." she said, smiling. "But thanks." He smiled back at her. They sat there watching the fire. He hadn't talked to her much since Scott's death, except for the night they had met in the kitchen. If she knew Logan he probably blamed himself as much as she did for not being able to somehow stop what had happened, even though there was no love lost between him and Cyclops.
She also knew the reason for the tension between Scott and Logan was because for a time Logan had been in love with her, that he had, in fact, loved her for several years. Later Mariko had come along and then Jean and Scott were married. Logan had remained silent about the way he felt, but she could always still saw something in his eyes when he looked at her, and felt something in his thoughts.
The fire continued to crackle as they sat silently. About a quarter 'til midnight, Logan disappeared to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine.
"Well, it ain't champagne," he said, untwisting the top. "It ain't even got a cork, but I figure it'll do."
He poured her a glass and she stood up to take it. She wasn't a tall woman, but she was at least half a head taller than him. They drank a toast and as the clock struck midnight, strains of "Auld Lang Syne" echoed on the stereo.
"Happy New Year, Jeannie. I hope this one's better for you." Logan put an arm around her waist. She grabbed onto him as if for dear life. Instinctively, he pulled her closer. His strength was comforting, and Jean felt safe and secure for the first time in months. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they gently swayed to the music.
He smelled of cigars, aftershave, and soap. Jean realized how starved she was for physical contact, how she'd missed Scott's touch.
But this wasn't Scott. This was Logan. She couldn't deny she had always been attracted to him, both physically and emotionally. She had always refused to let herself act upon those feelings in the past, but she had never been able to completely rid herself of them.
She lifted her head and looked at him. His eyes were closed and a hint of a smile played around his lips. He started to open his eyes, but she quickly put her head back on his shoulder and pressed herself closer against him. He responded by tightening his grip on her. Neither one of them moved. They just stood there, holding each other, listening to each other breathe and to the music.
The silence was broken by the sound of the party-goers returning to the mansion. Jean and Logan slowly broke away from each other and went to join them.
CHAPTER 7
Logan thought he was dreaming when he heard the scream. He heard it again. No, he was definitely awake now, but he realized that he only heard it in his head. It was Jean. He hurried down to her room and knocked on the door. There was no answer for several seconds. He was getting ready to break the door down when Jean opened it.
She stood there in her gown. From the light in the hallway, he could see she was pale and shaking. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You all right, Jeannie?"
She nodded. "I just had a nightmare. A bad one." she said, breathing heavily. She motioned him inside. "How did you know?"
He tapped his forehead with a finger. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "You're not a telepath."
"But you are. It's a wonder you didn't wake the whole house. I guess it was just me." He crossed the room, sat on the edge of her bed, and ran his fingers through his hair, which was sticking up in more than just the usual places. He was barefoot and wearing only a pair of shorts.
She didn't look any more respectable. Her long red hair was in wild disarray and she was trembling and shivering in her thin summer nightgown. She sat cross legged on the bed next to him and almost immediately threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Logan was caught off guard, but he recovered nicely and put a comforting arm around her, and a minute later moved the other one around her as well. He knew she needed someone to hold her and he was glad it was him.
Logan wondered what time it was. The days were longer again and the sky was filled with a faint pink light, but no one else in the mansion was stirring.
"Is anything ever going to get back to normal?" she asked, reaching for an answer that would give her some hope. He looked at her. He thought she was so beautiful, even in her unkempt state. It bothered him to see her in so much pain. He wondered at the fact that out of all the people living in the mansion, she had seemingly subconsciously reached out to only him.
He wished he had an answer to give her, but he didn't. "I don't know, darlin'. We gotta just keep tryin'." His voice sounded different to Jean. It still had that rough edge to it, but it was quiet, more reserved than usual.
"I know," she sniffed. "Sometimes it's just so damn hard!"
"Ya don't have to tell me about it, darlin'," he said giving her a quick squeeze.
"I know," she smiled at him through the tears. If anybody knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, it was Logan.
"You know I'm always here for you, Jeannie," he said quietly. He bent his head to hers and almost absent-mindedly kissed her cheek. As he did, she turned her head and her lips lightly brushed his. They were both taken aback, startled. Jean didn't move. Neither did Logan. They looked at each other for a few seconds which seemed like hours. Then, almost simultaneously, they moved toward each other.
The first few kisses were hesitant, gentle, almost awkward. It had been a long time since he'd had the occasion to kiss her. Logan simply couldn't believe this was happening. In fact, he seriously considered the possibility he might be dreaming the whole thing. His heightened senses brought him back to reality. The scent of Jean's perfume, the feeling of her arms around his neck, the sound of her breathing--no, this was all too real. He let himself go. He kissed her hard, and heard her quietly gasp for breath. But she didn't waver. To his surprise, she returned his kiss with a passion that challenged his own. Jean tried hard not to think about Scott. She knew that deep inside her, Scott or no Scott, a part of her had always yearned to be with Logan. She knew it, he knew it, even Scott had known it.
She'd never been kissed like this by anybody. She'd never responded like this to anybody, either. The few times Logan had kissed her before paled in comparison. She felt weak and tingly from head to toes. He was kissing her with a hunger and a desire she had only suspected existed. And she hated to admit that she liked it.
Beep-beep-beep-beep. They both jerked, startled. It was Jean's alarm clock, blinking 5:30, rudely interrupting their kiss. Jean laughed nervously with relief. They looked at each other, each suddenly self-conscious. She slowly pulled away from him.
"I have a breakfast meeting with the Professor."
"Tell him you overslept," Logan said, half seriously. What he really wanted to reach out and pull her back to him. God, she had felt so good...and that thin nightgown she was wearing wasn't helping any.
"No, really, I have to get moving. I have to take a shower," she explained abruptly.
"Yeah, me too." A cold one, he added silently as he walked toward the door.
CHAPTER 8
Jean banged the table as the computer screen locked up. She punched a key. Beep! No response. She stabbed another. Beep! Cursing under her breath, she re-booted the system and logged back into the database. She was developing a pounding headache and the sunshine and summer breeze filtering in her window weren't helping her concentration any. The screen locked up again. Beep! She smacked the center of the keyboard with her fist.
"Want me ta get ya a sledgehammer so you can do the job right?" She looked up from the desk to find Logan standing beside it, laughing at her. She had been so absorbed in her work that she hadn't even heard him come into the room.
She leaned back in the chair and stretched her arms over her head. "At this point, I'm willing to try anything. I'm absolutely desperate," she said with a disgusted statement.
"Yer working too hard, Red," he said matter of factly. "Ya gotta come up for air from time to time."
"I know," she sighed. "There's just so much to do. I'm working on this giant project for the Professor. What are you up to?"
"I'm gettin' ready ta go fishin' up at a buddy o' mine's pond. He ain't there, but he left me his boat and stuff." He paused. "Hey, you wouldn't want to go, would ya? Naw, I guess not, huh?" He felt kind of stupid for asking her. He figured she probably wouldn't consider it much of a good time.
"Are you kidding?" she smiled. "I used to fish all the time with my grandpa when I was a little girl. I usually caught more fish than he did...that was a long time ago," she added, momentarily lost in a childhood daydream.
"So, ya wanna go?" Logan asked, hoping he didn't sound too eager.
"Sure, why not? I'm sick of this thing." Jean gave up and switched the computer off.
They decided to meet about 20 minutes later. Logan couldn't believe that Jean was really going to stop her research to go fishing with him. That was one of the things he liked about her. She always surprised him. He suddenly got an idea and headed toward the kitchen. The only one he saw there was Rogue, who had apparently only recently awakened and was hypnotically gazing at the toaster, waiting for it to yield a strawberry Pop-Tart.
"Rogue!" She nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Logan! Don't yell at me! Ah'm not even awake yet!"
"Rogue, ya gotta help me!" He quickly explained his idea. Rogue seemed to liven up and and agreed to help him.
Exactly 20 minutes later, when Jean came down to the garage, he had all the fishing gear and a picnic lunch (thanks to Rogue's help) all packed in the back of the Jeep. He looked at Jean, dressed in cut-off jeans, a sleeveless V-neck t-shirt, canvas shoes and a floppy fishing hat with her hair tucked underneath it and her fishing pole in hand. He thought she looked great.
"I guess you were serious," he said with a smile. "I can't believe I never knew ya liked to fish."
She smiled back just as warmly. "There's a lot of things about me you don't know," she said teasingly as she winked and climbed into the Jeep.
Was that a come-on? Logan thought as he turned the key in the ignition. Because it sure sounded like one. He was lost in thought as they drove for nearly an hour to the lake. Jean didn't say much either; she seemed content to look at the scenery and let the wind blow through her hair. She had asked him about stopping to eat, and was mildly surprised when he answered, "Don't worry, darlin', I got that covered."
The piece of land Logan's friend owned was almost completely undeveloped, and boasted a very small tree-lined lake. Logan unloaded the fishing gear and the picnic basket and closed the top "just in case it rains". The only building around was a ramshackle boat shed badly in need of paint and repair.
It was a beautiful day. Jean couldn't remember the last time she'd really been outside.
"So," said Logan, "Ya wanna eat first or what?"
"Yeah, I'm starving. Hope you brought enough," she teased. "I can't believe you thought of everything!" she exclaimed as he spread out a blanket on the ground and she sat down.
"Well, I had a little help," Logan confessed. "Let's just say I owe Rogue one."
"Oh, that was sweet of her. I wondered how you had the time," Jean said, helping to unload the basket.
"Well, it's mostly just leftovers, but I figured it'd do," he commented, wondering if Rogue had remembered napkins and plastic silverware. She had. She'd also managed to find the bottle of wine he'd asked for, which he pulled out along with two glasses.
"That's not leftovers," Jean commented as he poured her a glass.
"No, but I thought we'd drink to Jeannie's day out," he smiled and clinked his glass against hers.
"How about to good friends?" she proposed.
"To good friends," he agreed. "The best." I hope we're more than that, he added silently. I know we're more than that.
"Thanks, Logan. I really needed this."
"I know," was all he said. "I got somethin' else for ya." He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a single red rose, freshly cut from one of the mansion's many rose bushes. He laid it on the blanket between them. Jean stared at it; its significance was not lost to her. She hesitated for a minute, then she smiled as she accepted it.
"Thank you," was all she said as she inhaled its fragrance. Logan let out a small sigh of relief. It had been just over a year since Scott's death. He hoped he wasn't making too serious of a gesture too soon, but he couldn't help it. Ever since he'd kissed her, all those old feelings had come rushing back to him.
They didn't talk much while they ate, but kept looking at each other and smiling. They both were more than content to spend a relaxing time in the company of a trusted friend. But, had they been forced to admit it, they were both pondering possibilities they had long ago given up on, and meditating on the unexpected emotions and sensations their kiss the week before had evoked.
After cleaning up the lunch mess, they took the the aging rowboat out on the tranquil lake. At first, both were deadly serious about catching fish. After they'd caught quite a few, though, Logan kicked back against the boat cushions, plunked his feet up on the seat, and his pushed his hat over his eyes, leaving his pole dangling in the water. Jean did the same in the other end of the boat, and, lulled by the water's gentle lapping against the boat, actually fell asleep for what she figured was close to an hour. She woke up suddenly and although it seemed to be clouding over, she decided it was definitely time to apply more sunblock. As she rustled around in her bag, Logan finally stirred at the other end and lifted his hat off his face.
"Ya okay, darlin?"
"Yeah, I'm just about to broil myself, though." She slathered the lotion on her face, arms, and legs and looked over at Logan. He'd taken off his shirt and his shoes, leaving just an old pair of faded denim shorts. "You want some?" Jean asked without thinking.
"Naw, I don't get sunburned," he answered, stretching and yawning.
"No, I guess not," Jean said, looking at his tanned skin underneath the coarse dark hair covering his chest and legs. "I wouldn't either if I thought about it, but who wants to do that?"
"I wouldn't. Lucky I don' have ta think about it. Ya caught any more?" he asked, sitting up and checking the pole he'd left unattended.
"No, I'm afraid I've been sleeping."
"Some pair of fishermen we are, huh? Ya know, I hate to say it, but it's going to rain so we'd better be gettin' back." He grabbed the oars and started rowing. Jean felt guilty just sitting there, but busied herself with packing up the gear. It took them a little while to cross back to where the boat shed was, and by the time they got there, it was starting to drizzle. The Jeep was parked about half a mile from the boat shed because the road didn't come down that far.
They had just gotten the boat tied up and the gear unloaded when it started to pour. Logan grabbed their stuff and Jean's hand and they ran for the boat shed. They reached the doorway just in time to hear a great crack of lightning almost directly above them followed by a deafening roar of thunder.
"Whew! That was a little too close for comfort!" Jean exclaimed wiping her face with her hat. Despite the fact that they had run all the way to the boat house, they were both drenched. Jean was glad she'd only used minimal makeup that morning; there was much less of it to run down her face.
Her hair was curling up in little ringlets and she was suddenly self-conscious of the fact that both her t-shirt and her bra were soaking wet and she was freezing, which was causing her nipples to stand out rather prominently against the wet material. She stole a glance at Logan, who luckily was not looking at her, but had just finished wiping his face with the front of his shirt and was trying in vain to arrange his hair with his fingers.
He gave up on the hair, and looked over at Jean who was still shivering from the wind blowing through her wet clothes. "Are ya that cold, darlin'? he asked, suddenly concerned. The cold never seemed to bother him. She nodded, her teeth starting to chatter. "Well, c'mere then," he said quietly, reaching for her arm and bringing her close to him and slipping his arms around her waist. "You just let the ol' canucklehead warm ya up," he said with a wink. He held her as the lightning and thunder and rain continued their summer concert. She felt the heat of his body next to hers and soon stopped shivering.
A few minutes later, Logan touched her cheek and guided her face down to his. Jean knew what was coming and savored the anticipation until she felt his mouth on hers. It was a passionate, hungry kiss that threatened to ignite her toes. She wrapped her arms around Logan's neck and pressed herself closer to him as she returned his kiss.
The world could have ended as far as they were concerned. They were lost in each other's arms. Jean felt Logan's passion not only in his kisses, but in his thoughts and his body as well. She became increasingly aware of the modest but definite bulge that was developing against her where their bodies were pressed together and of her own response to it. She really wasn't trying to read Logan's mind, but enough stray thoughts filtered in that she realized that despite this obvious physical manifestation, he was restraining himself from acting further on his desire.
Had she ventured further into his thoughts, she would have been privy to the battle of the will that was being waged in Logan's head. He could have very easily taken her on the dirt floor of the boat shed and part of him wanted to do just that, wanted it very badly. She deserves better than that, the other part of his mind countered. And I don't want to scare her away, not now.
Jean involuntarily picked up on vague imprints of his emotions, and was aware of his respect and concern for her. For some reason, that knowledge triggered an emotional surge in her that only made her want to kiss him more. It was Logan who finally broke it off, once again just holding her close against him.
"Sorry, Jeannie, I gotta quit while I still can," he added with a sly grin, backing away from her slightly. He knew that no matter how intensely he hated doing it, backing down was the right thing to do, at least at the moment.
"Don't worry about it," she said, taking his hand. She was suddenly quite self-conscious as well. "It's almost quit raining, anyway. Fish for dinner?" she asked.
"If you'll cook 'em, I'll clean 'em."
CHAPTER 9
Jean couldn't bring herself to do any one of the hundred things on her "to do" list, although she had written it and rearranged it at least a dozen times. Instead she went down to the rec room hoping to watch an old movie or at least a mindless documentary. Logan was there, as were Rogue and Gambit, but the two of them disappeared shortly after Jean arrived, whispering about some secret known only to themselves.
At 2:00 in the morning, Jean and Logan were both still there, watching a really bad science fiction movie and eating the rest of the popcorn. In between watching TV, they had been talking all night, but not about anything serious, at least not anything more serious than any two close friends would talk about.
They had sat next to each other on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, touching and not touching for hours. It wasn't that they weren't thinking about it. Jean was trying her best notto read any of Logan's thoughts. She had spent far too much time herself thinking about the kiss they had shared earlier that week.
Logan put his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Instead of protesting, she smiled at him. She couldn't help herself. There was just something about him that drew her to him. When she thought about it, she had to admit it was amazing that she was so attracted to this man who was so unlike Scott in every way.
There were really no comparisons. Logan was almost a foot shorter than Scott, but heavily muscled; Scott had been tall and trim like an athlete. Scott's hair was auburn and usually neat; Logan's hair was dark and grew wildly, even down the side of his face in exaggerated sideburns. His eyes were piercing. She'd only seen Scott's eyes a few times, when his optic blasts had been neutralized, and they had been a muddy brown.
If Logan was different from Scott physically, he was even more so emotionally. Scott was the born leader; Logan was a born loner. Scott agonized over command decisions; Logan's method was to slash first and ask questions later.
Jean wondered how two men who were so completely different had found such irremovable places in her heart. While Scott was alive, she had forced herself to deny the strong feelings she felt for Logan. She tried to hide them from Scott, from Logan, and even from herself, but she knew she hadn't always been successful.
"Jean, you still with us?" Logan looked at her, concerned.
"I was just ... thinking," she said, and smiled at him. The truth was she had done quite a bit of fantasizing that week. She put her hand on his knee and pretended to stare intently at the television. After a few minutes, she began slowly moving her hand up his well-muscled thigh.
That was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled her toward him and kissed her. She responded almost instantly. Her mouth was warm and Logan thought her lips tasted sweet. He pulled her even closer, almost crushing her to him.
The passion and the force with which he kissed her frightened and excited Jean at the same time. She had to admit she was more excited than frightened. After all, she could have thrown him into the next room with her mind had she deemed it necessary. As it was, she was enjoying the feeling of his arms around her shoulder and waist and his mouth on hers. Logan felt her grip on his neck. It felt good. He was surprised again at the intensity of her kisses and he felt his senses going into overload. The woman he had loved for so many years was finally in his arms, and for the second time that week. He was physically aching with desire for her, and desire finally won out over good judgement.
With one swift movement, Jean found herself underneath him. He was kissing her even longer and harder than before, and she struggled to catch her breath.
"Logan, I--"
"Sshh." He silenced her protest with a kiss. The wheels in her head started turning. She tried to block out her thoughts of Scott, the feeling that somehow what she was doing was wrong. The truth was, she was again becoming very aroused and it bothered her.
His kisses--god, they made her weak. She had never dreamed Logan could kiss her like that. He wasn't holding anything back this time. The weight of his body felt good against her. She could feel the hard stiffness beneath his denim jeans between her legs and she had no doubt what was on his mind as he began urgently pressing it harder against her.
She wanted him, that much she knew. But she couldn't. Her mind wouldn't let her. "Logan, stop!" She sat straight up and pushed him off her. She jumped off the couch and began pacing. He stared hard at her. He finally spoke.
"What's wrong, darlin'?"
She didn't answer. She stood there with her arms folded, studying the lint on the carpet. He got up and walked over to her. He carefully laid a hand on her shoulder. He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to look at him.
"Jean, surely you don't think--You know I'd never force ya to do something ya don't want. Darlin', you know how I feel about you. I love you." There, he'd said it. He knew it came as no surprise to her.
"I know," she bit her lip and lowered her head again. He looked at her strangely, as if something had suddenly dawned on him. Jean was furious with herself. She'd let her mental safeguards slip and now Logan knew what was wrong with her.
"That ain't it at all, is it?" he said, with a hint of anger in his voice. She turned her head away. "He ain't coming back, Jean. You got to get on with your life and live for yourself. Do what you want to do, not what you think you shoulddo--for a change."
"I have to go," she mumbled and took a step back.
"Please stay with me, Jeannie," he said quietly, almost pleadingly. He reached a hand toward her. She shook her head and turned and walked out the door in time to hear his fist smash through the coffee table. As she walked down the corridor, she heard the lamp, and quite possibly the sofa, hit the wall of the rec room.
Tears streamed down her face. She had to be alone. She went to her room, crawled under the blankets and cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 10
They had spent an evening at Harry's Hideaway along with Beast, Gambit, Rogue, Storm. It was the first "normal" evening the team had had together in many months. As the night wore on, the others drifted off in small groups. Jean and Logan were alone for the first time since the night she had pushed him away.
"So," Jean said, eyeing Logan over her drink, "Are you still angry with me?"
He looked away for a minute and then stared into his beer. "I wasn't angry with you," he said. "I was just--yeah, I guess I was. A little." he answered sheepishly and gave her a crooked half-smile.
She smiled back. "I know. I saw the rec room," she said matter of factly. By the tone of her voice, and the sparkle in her eyes, he knew that she was trying her best to make reparations between them.
"Yeah? Well, you should see me when I'm really pissed." He raised his glass, gulped down the rest of his drink, and banged the glass rather loudly on the table.
"I have." She carefully sipped her drink. They finally looked at each other. "I'm sorry, Logan. I want to give it--I want to give us a try. But I'm just not ready to get that serious yet. I'm sorry; I know I kind of led you on."
"It's okay," he said and reached across the table. He was relieved when she grasped his hand. "I've been waiting a long time. I guess I can wait a little longer." He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. For a moment they just looked at each other.
"Let's go home." She finished her drink, and got her jacket. They arrived at the mansion, and as they started toward the front door, Logan put his arm around Jean's waist. He pulled her close.
"There's just one thing, Jeannie," he whispered in her ear.
"What's that?" she asked, stopping in the doorway, her heart pounding.
"Don't kiss me like that no more 'til you're ready to get serious. Pushes too many buttons." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared up the stairs, leaving her deep in thought.
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