Title: Castles in My Mind
Author: vangiekitty
Rating: R- NC-17(eventually)
Fandom: X-Men
Archive: not without permission
Pairing: Jean/Logan
Universe: somewhere between Comicverse and Movieverse, there's vangieverse with a lil' bit o' both.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made.
Author's note: They were meant to be together.

CASTLES IN MY MIND part 1

At first it was just a game between them, and an annoying game at that. Logan teased, flirted outrageously, dropped not so subtle hints and double entendres constantly. He sat too close, stood too close, generally just invaded the hell out of her personal space and dared her to ignore him, which is what she tried to do. Ignoring someone as aggressively male as Logan was very difficult. He had the bullshit alpha male posturing down to a science. Although with Logan, it didn't seem so much like bullshit, it seemed real, like he didn't even have to try. When he stepped into a room, every other man in it might as well not be there, Scott included. At least that's how Jean saw it. And it was all done with the sole purpose of aggravating Scott.

Sure, she'd felt the attraction, what woman in her right mind wouldn't? She'd examined him thoroughly, seen the sculpted abs, the flawless physique lying on her exam table when they brought him in. And later, when he jumped so suddenly off the table and locked that muscular arm, the biceps like a steel vice around her throat, she'd felt his sudden flare of desire in her mind, caught a swift thought about how good, how fresh she smelled to him. Had time to register only two things before he let her go and fled. One: He is incredibly strong. Two: No one has a dick that big. It's not possible, is it? The hugeness of it pressing into her hip from behind had almost made her forget to breathe, just as well since Logan was so efficiently cutting off her air supply at the time.

Later, when she thought about it she wondered if he'd had something in his pocket at the time- but he didn't have pockets in those pants, did he? Made her wish she could have an excuse to see him naked, just to verify things. She was a doctor, she could make up an excuse easily enough. But there were enough innuendoes flying around as it was. Logan teased her unmercifully when she had him take off his shirt, Jean could only imagine what remarks would follow the request for him to drop his pants as well. Besides, the thoughts made her blush dull, brick red with shame. Better not to know. Scott, the only man she'd ever been with, had a nice normal (well, almost) sized one which should have been enough for her. Better to just leave Logan and his zucchini or salami or whatever the hell it was alone.

But leaving him alone was easier said than done, especially since it seemed he wouldn't (or couldn't) leave her alone. And the problem was (if you could call it that), that whenever he got close, which whenever he came into a room she was in, she reacted. Or at least, her body did. It became more and more difficult to ignore him, to retain her professional distance and remain aloofly amused at his remarks and suggestions when what she wanted to do was squirm like a school girl on her first date. It would start with the palms of her hands sweating, the rapid rise in her heart rate. Her breathing became more shallow and at last, the inevitable twist in her gut, like a knife of unwanted desire in her lower abdomen.

Jean was first and foremost a scientist so she tried to analyze it- this physiological reaction to Logan's closeness. It was so strange, like a smell, a pheromone they made between them that couldn't be helped. Could neither be discussed or denied. She tried monitoring Logan telepathically to see if it was part of his mutation, something he was doing deliberately. But after that one flash of thought from him the first day in the med room he seemed shielded. She could tell he wasn't telepathic himself, although he might have some potential, but he had excellent natural shielding ability for someone who wasn't. They weren't close, she had no link with him as she did with Scott and the Professor. And so she could only catch snatches and wisps of emotion sometimes. She felt lust, of course- his or her own? It was hard to say. She could tell by his body language, though, that Logan was affected as well, could tell by the way he sniffed the air and glanced at her with that faint, arrogant, self satisfied smirk.

Oh yes, Logan could feel it and there was no doubt in Jean's mind that it pleased him nearly as much as it distracted and irritated her. The worst thing though, was the effect the whole thing had on Scott. Through their psy-bond her could feel her heating up and he wasn't stupid, he knew the only logical explanation. Jean therefore couldn't, as other women do, take the lust caused by another man back to their bed and spend it on Scott at night. Or he knew, he always knew. Their lovemaking became angry, then diffident, then ceased altogether. Logan's presence had made what had been a bad situation before his arrival infinitely worse and for that Jean couldn't forgive him.

She'd hoped for a while that when Logan went away, went to find his origins or his past or whatever he went to do in Canada, that things might get better between herself and Scott. That with Logan gone they could get back to normal, could heal. But it was not to be, things had gone to far. Scott distanced himself from her, emotionally and physically. Worse, he started shielding against her, blocking off a part of himself. He was using techniques Xavier had taught all the non-telepaths in case of capture or torture: extreme measures, and he was using them against Jean. Now when she reached for him in her mind she found not the soft, often bland but equally open landscape of Scott's mind but iron gates and steel doors shut against her. She began to know he was hiding something, though what, exactly, she reflected later, she would never have guessed in a million years.

Jean considered the whole thing her fault. She had gone to her fiancé's bed once too often with thoughts of another man. When you had a psy-bond with one man, it apparently didn't do to got to bed with the psychic stink of another lingering all over your mind. Or, she assumed that was the problem. Things were getting very bad between them, Scott staying out late and never giving an explanation of where he'd been and shielding harder than ever against her. Jean supposed she could have broken down those walls he put around his mind if she tried. She was, after all, a very competent telepath though her telepathy was still nowhere near as strong as her telekinesis. But breaking the walls might have broken a piece of Scott as well, and Jean didn't want that. She had a feeling, moreover, that he would tell her what was going on when he was good and ready. And she had an even stronger feeling that she really didn't want to know. At all.

And then Logan came back, having found next to nothing in Canada to keep him busy and the whole thing started all over again. Like two male dogs marking their territory, they never seemed to let up. Jean found she barely had time to pay attention to the strange attraction between herself and Logan because she was so busy running damage control with Scott. It was exhausting. If only Logan could be like he was on a mission- all business. Or the way he'd been in the med-lab the second time Rogue had touched him. Maybe he'd been too groggy to be a smart ass…but he's seemed so civil, funny even. Like someone she'd like to have as a friend. Jean tried not to recall her pleasure at running her hands over his warm, toned body moments before he'd woken up. The inexplicable relief when she realized he would be all right…

She concentrated instead on how the whole thing was tearing herself and Scott apart. Logan was attractive, all right. She'd even say very attractive but he was also infuriating, annoying and downright aggravating. She very nearly hated him, or thought she did, though when she was honest she admitted it was herself she hated. For letting it get to her. For letting it ruin her relationship with Scott. And she hated Scott as well, for letting the relationship crumble to dust before him. For not being willing to fight for something she'd thought was as important to him as it was to her. And while Logan might not have set the events in motion, but he had certainly exacerbated the situation, had brought it to it's breaking point.

No, she did not like Logan. Not a bit- not at all. Which was why it was so surprising that he should be the one to catch her when she fell...

Part 2

It was after midnight on a Tuesday, after a hard day of teaching and research that Scott chose to drop his bomb. Jean was already exhausted and she wondered idly if he'd picked just that time, just that perfect state of mental and emotional exhaustion to let it fly. If so, she felt that a part of her might never stop hating him. The timing would have been bad enough even if he'd picked it unintentionally. But bad timing or not, Scott had finally opened up to her and he was determined to see things through to the end no matter how much it hurt, how much blood had to be mopped up afterwards.

"Don't you want to know where I've been?" He'd demanded, coming into their room and standing before Jean who was washing her face at the sink. He'd been gone since 8 and Jean wasn't about to ask where since going out without telling her where, why or with whom had become a regular habit with him.

"Out, I guess." She'd mumbled, grabbing a towel blindly, trying to defuse the situation though she could already feel lightening in the room and taste the inevitability of it all.

"But out where, don't you want to know? Or don't you care, Jean? You never ask me anymore, you know."

"I never ask because you never answer." She had snapped. "Tell me or don't Scott but either way make it quick, I'm tired." She hadn't meant the words to come out quite so sharply- it just seemed to happen. It was the fear that did it- fear of losing everything she'd ever know.

"Feel me, Jean." He had said quietly and she knew what he meant. Didn't mean for her to reach out physically but mentally, telepathically. It was the first time he'd offered in months and she had longed for his touch, the touch of another mind so bitterly, so hungrily in that time. Yet she was hesitant, afraid of what she'd find.

She closed her eyes, sent out a tendril of herself, of her mind, expecting to find barriers, walls too high to scale. But found instead Scott, ordinary, bland Scott. His mental taste, as always, something like over sweetened and somewhat soggy breakfast cereal. But suddenly- images. He was feeding them to her fast, force feeding them directly into her brain and Jean found he'd taken her hand to strengthen the link, to make sure she couldn't break free.

She saw Scott in smoke filled rooms, walking, no- prowling, looking for something- for someone.

"Another woman, all this time it's been another woman..." she'd thought, blurrily.

"Guess again, sweetheart." Scott's mental voice was bitter and sharp as a razor blade. The taste of him was now more like a bowl of soggy cornflakes drowned not in milk but in blood. Metallic... nauseating. More thoughts began to flash between them, images of sex. Hot, hard, brutal, anonymous. Scott with other people, countless faceless dozens of them. Nameless encounters taking place in restrooms and back rooms of bars. Fucking and being fucked in the way he's always dreamed of though he had denied it so long, even to himself.

"It was never another woman, or even women, Jean." He'd said. And suddenly the anonymous faces in his thoughts became clear and they were rough, whiskered, masculine. Fucking hard against a wall outside some downtown dive. No names exchanged, no guilt, no commitment. Just the burning pleasure of another man topping him or the delight of thrusting into a body as hard and unyielding as his own...

Scott withdrew then, released her hand, broke the connection.

"Jean," he'd said with bitterly satisfied certainty, "I'm gay."

It broke over her like a thundercloud. She understood completely even as she protested.

"...not possible, Scott!" she'd heard herself saying. "I would have known, would have read it in you..."

"Unless I was hiding it, buried down so deep that I didn't even know it myself." He pointed out bitterly. "Why do you think I've been shielding so hard lately, Jean? Because I didn't want to know. Because I didn't want you to know. Unlike you, I have a certain... reluctance to bring another man into our bed."

"That's not fair, Scott." She felt herself trembling with anger, with guilt. His accusation had merit.

"Oh no? What's fair then? Me listening as I fucked you- hearing you call out my name with your voice and his name with your mind? How do you think that makes me feel, Jean? I know you've always wanted more than I could give. I was never man enough for you. Well guess what Jean, it turns out you aren't man enough for me either." His laughter burned her throat, jagged like shards of glass going down.

"How can you say that? How can you tell me this way?" The rush of images, ugly and fiercely erotic at once still filled her head. The look of pure sublime pain/pleasure on Scott's face as another man entered him... It was a look she'd never been able to evoke, would never be able to evoke, and now she knew why.

Scott seemed suddenly tired, spent. Jean had realized that he hated himself right then, hated what he was doing to her but couldn't seem to stop.

"I don't know any other way to say this, Jean." He'd said raggedly. "I know I'm being cruel and I'm sorry. This has just... well, it's been building up a long time. Even before Logan came onto the scene. I just didn't want to acknowledge it, didn't want to say it out loud for fear it would be true. And I was so afraid you'd read it in me these past few months when I've finally... come to terms with it. When Logan came along and there was this instant, I don't know, heat between you two, it seemed like the perfect excuse to let myself explore that part I'd been so afraid of. And so I did-and... and here we are Jean and I'm sorry but it's true. I can't do anything about it. Hell, I don't want to do anything about it. This is me. I may hate myself right now but I'm sure I'll get over it eventually... " he trailed off.

This was the final indignity. Scott asking for comfort, for absolution when Jean felt that her own heart was breaking.

"I can't tell you how to live your life, Scott." She'd said tightly, withholding the comfort he'd been asking for, however obliquely, for the first time ever. "All I can say is how deeply you've hurt me. I don't think being... gay is evil or wrong... but having a relationship like this with me for nearly 3 years... leading me to believe..."

"Don't talk to me about duplicity, Jean." He'd shot back. "At least I'm brave enough to go out and fuck another man in the flesh. God! I'm so tired of your mind games- your mind fucks!"

"You bastard! Don't blame me for what you are. I..."

But she couldn't go on. Too angry, too helpless, too guilty. It was her fault- all her fault. And Scott was saying coldly...

"Look at it this way Jean: at least I found out now, told you now before we got married, had kids, the works. It's so much less painful this way."

"Less painful. Like being stabbed is less painful than being shot..." she'd said, bitterly. "Save the bullshit, Scott. So you're gay, so what?"

"So nothing. Not here at least. I'm leaving Jean. Going to join another team somewhere. I don't think it's wise for me to hang around. Too many memories, too much guilt. I'd only hurt the team and that's the last thing I want to do. So I guess... this is goodbye. I'm as sorry as I can be, Jean. What we had was... nice. But it never could've lasted, I can see that now. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"I'll tell you what, Scott," she'd said, her throat tight with unshed tears. "It's not worth a hell of a lot right now."

He'd shrugged, turned.

"Maybe someday you'll feel differently." And she felt him cut their psy-bond. Deliberately, cold-bloodedly sever it. Like reaching inside himself and yanking a plug from the wall of his heart, the part of her he had no more use for. It was a bond that should have lasted a life time. It had lasted barely 3 years.

Jean didn't allow herself to collapse until she heard the click of the door.

Part 3

The next few weeks were like hell for Jean and she was never quite sure afterwards exactly how she got through them. She would have avoided Logan on principle but that was unnecessary since he seemed equally intent on avoiding her. It might have made Jean sad or even angry if she'd had any energy left for such emotions. But she was spending every scrap of self control she possessed just to hold herself together and keep going. Besides, Logan's avoidance only served to emphasize to her that his seeming attraction to her had all been just an act put on for Scott's benefit. Now that Scott was gone, there was no need for him to continue and so he dropped it immediately.

The strangest thing was that she couldn't seem to cry. That horrible night when Scott had been giving her his news she had been absolutely certain that the minuet he walked out the door of their room she would completely lose it. But as she heard his footsteps fade away and felt the emptiness fill her mind and heart where their psy-bond had been she waited for tears that never came. She kept thinking, in a detached, cold sort of way that if only she could bring herself to cry she would find some release, could begin to heal. But she found herself going through her daily routine of teaching, supervising the children, research in her lab with never a tear shed. She knew Professor Xavier was worried about her. He knew a great deal more about what had happened between her and Scott than anyone else although even he didn't know all of it. At night she lay in bed, sleepless and dry eyed, her mind clicking along at roughly a hundred miles a minute. Always stuck in the same dusty groove of blame, guilt, recriminations. She couldn't help thinking she'd driven him to it, although her logical mind knew that was ridiculous. Scot couldn't help being gay anymore than she could help being red-headed. But that knowledge didn't stop the relentless ticking behind her eyes or allow her to get more than three or four hours of sleep a night. Slowly, Jean began to break.

The last straw came in the form of a letter from Scott, now firmly established with another group of mutants on the West coast. Jean sat reading it and re-reading it for maybe an hour before she knew she had to do something or explode. It was roughly ten o'clock at night when she slipped from her room and down to the mansion's large, well equipped gym to try and work out her frustration. Boxing was not usually in her workout routine but Jean set to work on the heavy bag suspended not far from the gymnasium door anyway.

That was where Logan found her at last nearly an hour later, still punching and jabbing with anger and weary frustration. Sometimes the bag wore Scott's face, sometimes her own. The letter lay crumpled at her feet and though sweat ran down her body, no tears ran down her cheeks. It seemed Jean would never cry again. So intent was she that she completely missed the dark form looming to her right. Logan was silent when he wanted to be and Jean wasn't sure how long he had been standing in the doorway watching her before he finally announced his presence by speaking.

"Jean... Jeanie..." he said, as close to hesitant as Logan ever got.

"What the hell do you want, Logan?" she asked, glancing up briefly to glare at him and giving the bag a particularly vicious jab. Logan winced visibly at the gesture but walked forward with determination. He wasn't going to be put off easily, Jean saw with an inward sigh of aggravation. She was going to have to expend more time and energy in getting rid of him. He came to stand a few feet away and watched as she let the bag have it again.

"Guess that should have been for me." He said, nodding at the bag as she punched it again. "I reckon you wouldn't mind taking a swing at me right about now, huh Red?"

His propensity for nicknames had always annoyed her. Why couldn't he just call her Jean, like everyone else? In a lover or even a friend the nicknames might be endearing. Coming from this aggravating man who had played no small part in the dismembering of her recent relationship they sounded mocking, cruel. Jean clenched her teeth.

"Are you offering me a free shot, Logan?" she asked, tightly, never taking her eyes from the heavy bag.

"Maybe I am, Darlin'." He took a step closer, invading her space as always, forcing her to take notice of him.

"I am not your darling." Jean said through gritted teeth. "And you'd better get your face out of my space before I take you up on your offer."

"Brave words, Red." He whispered, leaning ever so slightly closer.

Feeling pushed to the edge of her endurance Jean turned suddenly on him, meaning to punch him squarely in the jaw. But quick as she was, she was no match for his mutation enhanced reflexes. His arm was only a blur before her but she found her wrist clenched in an iron grip that was firm but not hurtful, oddly gentle, in fact.

"Sorry, Darlin'," he said, while she struggled uselessly to get free of him. "I know it would be more satisfying to punch me full on but you've got to remember my jaw's full of adamantium. Might be better if ya just slapped me. That way you won't break your sweet little hand." He caressed the hand in question with his own, rubbing her palm with his thumb while still holding her back effortlessly.

His words and gestures so enflamed Jean that when he finally released her she did just as he suggested and delivered the hardest slap possible to his cheek. It was like slapping a brick wall and it wasn't enough. At the last moment, she hooked her fingers and clawed his face as hard as she could. Then stood before him, panting with emotion and exertion, not believing what she had done and watching the thin rivulets of blood flow from four parallel grooves in his cheek.

Logan looked at her, reached up to touch his face and brought two fingers back, smeared with blood. Wiping them casually on his jeans, he reached down and took the hand Jean had slapped him with, which she was still held stiffly away from her body and turning it palm up, he kissed it gently. Jean watched his gestures with disbelief and anger. Looking at his cheek, she saw the scratches she had made already beginning to heal in dreamy slow motion. Logan still pressed her palm to his lips. It was all too surreal. Jean opened her mouth, completely uncertain as to what would come out.

"What's the point?" She heard herself say dully, unable to free her hand from his grip or her eyes from the nearly healed scratches on his face. "What's the point if you don't even feel it, if it doesn't even hurt you?"

"Just because I heal fast doesn't mean I don't feel pain." Logan almost whispered, his breath tickling her palm and Jean had the strangest feeling he was talking about more than her slap.

"It still hurts, Jean. If that's any consolation to you."

"Then why let me do it, why ask me to do it?" she demanded, finally pulling her hand away. He shrugged, broad shoulders rising under the black leather jacket he wore.

"Maybe because you needed to. Maybe because I deserved it." He shifted uncomfortably. "Jeanie, I've been the worst kind of coward. I've been wanting to talk to you, to tell you how sorry I am for what I did, what I caused between you and Scott but I couldn't get the nerve..."

"You don't need to concern yourself with me or Scott." She heard herself say bitterly. "That's over now, Logan. It's dead between us."

"Maybe you're givin' up too easy..." he started but she cut him off.

"There's nothing left to give up on. I couldn't give Scott what he needed so he left. End of story." Turning, she took a halfhearted swing at the punching bag again, watching the indentation of her small fist fade even more rapidly than the scratches on Logan's cheek.

"You act like it's all your fault, Red. But it's not, it's mine." Logan frowned at her from under heavy brows.

"Well, Logan, as it turns out neither one of us should be too quick to take the blame." Jean said bitterly. "Scott would have left eventually anyway, we just helped him out the door. Your teasing and macho bullshit helped facilitate it along with my..." but she couldn't bring herself to say it, didn't even know what she would have said. Lusting, maybe?

"Anyway," she continued after a brief pause. "He's gone and he's not coming back. He doesn't want me anymore and as he pointed out when he left, he actually did me a favor by going when he did instead of waiting until we were even more emotionally attached."

"You dated him for 3 years, Red. How much more attached could you be?" Logan demanded. Idly, Jean wondered how he came to know the exact length of her relationship with Scott. Trying to appear nonchalant, she shrugged.

"We could have been married, had kids... It's better this way. Scott cut his losses, I can't say I blame him."

She gasped as Logan seized her shoulders without warning and spun her around to face him.

"Jean," he began.

"I had a letter from him just today." She heard herself saying inanely. "He sounds very happy." She nodded to the crumpled wad of paper on the floor at their feet. "He says... he says..." her voice wavered.

"He says what?" Logan demanded, shaking her a little, his eyes filled with terrible compassion. Jean suddenly realized without a doubt that a whole month's worth of tears was about to come flooding out. Apparently she wasn't destined to never cry again. No, instead she would start and never stop. And all over this horrible, arrogant man who wouldn't let her go. Grimly she tried to hold it back.

"He says he's found someone." She said, trying to be detached, uncaring. "It was bound to happen eventually. I... I wasn't his type..."

The look in Logan's eyes undid her then and she found the hot saltiness welling up from inside and pouring out, down her cheeks, burning like acid with every drop.

"Jeanie..." He pulled her to him tightly, wrapping strong arms around her in a fiercely protective gesture, as though he would save her if he could. They sank to the wooden floor of the gym and Jean found her head buried in his broad, leather clad shoulder. She felt herself crying soundlessly, jaggedly, too miserable to even care what she looked like though she was aware that her hair was stringy with sweat and her face must be a mess of misery and tears.

"Jean... Jeanie... Red... .Darlin'..." Logan continued to hold her, to rock her and Jean realized that now she was somehow in his lap with her head cuddled against his broad chest and his soothing voice rumbling low in her ear, an endless stream of nonsense and endearments. Large, warm hands stroked her back as she shivered and trembled, helpless against the emotional tidal wave that threatened to sweep her away. She seemed to cry forever, felt she would never stop.

"Oh god, Logan. I am sorry, so sorry." She heard herself saying over and over. "Sorry... sorry..."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about, Jeanie." He whispered into her hair. "Not your fault, never your fault." He straightened, turned her face up so he could look at her with deep hazel eyes. "Besides, you're beautiful, Darlin', if you want him back, you'll get him back."

"Part of it was my fault." She whispered. "And I feel anything but beautiful right now, Logan." He grinned, sharp white teeth making the expressions charming yet feral.

"Yer always gorgeous ta me, Red. Screw One Eye if he can't see that." Jean shifted uncomfortably. Now that she was calming down she was becoming aware of that damned mysterious attraction she always felt when too close to Logan. Being so close to him, touching him like this she was able to catch a wisp of a thought.

*... so damned beautiful, and smells so luscious... * she caught. Since she had been working out hard and sweating for an hour before he even came in the room, Jean had to wonder at this. But she'd heard enough to know she didn't need to hear anymore. What she didn't need was more complication in her life right now. She also realized that sitting in Logan's lap as she was right now she was in the perfect position to verify if her first impression of his size had been accurate or not. Feeling him shift beneath her restlessly she realized that she had not been mistaken. She had to move before things got out of hand. Somewhat awkwardly she pushed his arms aside and crawled out of his lap. He let her.

"Look, Logan, thanks for... everything. I'm sorry I hit you... sorry I cried on you... sorry if I gave you the wrong idea." She mumbled hurriedly, standing and brushing off the legs of her sweats.

"Don't be, Darlin'. Sorry I mean." Logan stood easily, gracefully as though he hadn't been sitting on the hard gym floor rocking her as she sobbed her stupid heart out for the last half hour.

"Ya know, Jean, you and I got off on the wrong foot right from the start and I'll be the first to admit it's my fault. I know you're hurting right now and I feel at least partly to blame for it. So if you ever need someone to talk to..." He made an awkward gesture with one hand. Jean just looked at him.

"Damnit," he swore. "I think what I'm trying to ask, Jeanie is, can we start again? Can we just try to get along? Try to be friends?"

"I... well, yes, Logan. That would be nice." Jean found herself saying, bemused by the fact that she was saying this and meaning it, was making friends with a man she should probably run a mile from.

"Great." He grinned, that big bad wolf grin again and she couldn't help smiling a little in return. He stuck out one large hand as though to shake and Jean was struck with the incongruity of it- Logan offering her only his hand when she had just spent the last half hour in his arms. She didn't want to give him the wrong idea but still... Instead of taking the proffered hand she reached out and hugged him, a little tentatively at first, then more strongly as he wrapped his arms around her and returned the gesture.

"Thank you, Logan." She whispered in his ear. "I... I needed that." She meant everything, the hug, the tears, the anger and emotional release he had enabled her to reach that night. He squeezed her briefly and pulled back, holding her at arms length.

"I know, Darlin'." He said gently, seeming to understand everything she meant without asking. "I could smell it on ya."

Jean made a face. "What a thing to say, Logan. Someday I'll have to ask you to explain that." She remarked.

"Then someday I'll tell you." He said lightly.

"But right now I'm tired and sweaty and I want to take a shower and get in bed." She saw the hot look in his eyes at her words, there and gone so fast she almost wondered if she had imagined it and knew that if Scott had still been there to goad he would have spoken his thoughts aloud.

*... Lucky for Logan he doesn't know that Scott would probably rather go to bed with him than me... * she thought, a small smile curving her lips at the notion. With a small start, she realized she had thought of Scott for the first time in a month without bitterness and seething resentment.

"I've got to go, Logan." She said, pulling completely away at last. "I... I think I may actually be able to sleep tonight."

"Good, Jeanie, I'm glad." He answered sincerely, letting go of her reluctantly.

"I... well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Not if I see you first." She answered with a teasing grin. "'Night, Logan."

"'Night, Red." He answered. She left him standing in the gymnasium with a thoughtful look on his face and went to get some sleep.

part 4

The next morning Jean woke up wondering if it had all been a dream. But she remembered too vividly the heat of her palm connecting with Logan's cheek and the feel of her nails gouging into his flesh. And the soft, warm touch of his lips afterwards, kissing the hand that had just slapped him. His arms around her, strong and protective as she sobbed out her grief and frustration against his broad chest. She felt she could never forget these sensations- they were branded indelibly into her memory. And what else? Oh yes, they had agreed to try and be friends. Well, that was fine. A friend was all she could be to Logan anyway, the ache of losing Scott was still too fresh- she could still feel the emptiness where their psy-bond used to be like an open wound in her mind. So why were thoughts of Logan still invading her brain? And why had she slept like a baby for a full eight hours last night without a thought or even a dream of her ex-fiancé?

Impatiently, Jean rolled out of bed and pushed her thoughts aside. Ridiculous to be worrying over such things when she had such a busy day planned. Today was the class fieldtrip for the younger students and she had agreed to help Ororo out with it. They were going out for a picnic and also to give the kids a chance to collect insects for the collections that were due a week from now. Jean had always enjoyed teaching Biology but she had been rather dreading this trip; it was hard enough to keep the young mutants under control in a classroom setting, let alone in the great outdoors.

"Oh well, at least we'll be outside away from the public so they can't harm anything but trees and grass." She muttered to herself. Grabbing a quick shower she dressed hurriedly and went to see if Storm was up yet.

Knocking briefly on her friend's door, Jean turned the knob to enter the room only to hear a muffled groan from Ororo's bed.

"Shut the door, don't let in the light!" her friend groaned.

"Are you OK?" Jean half whispered, making her way carefully into the darkened room to Storm's bedside.

"You sound awful, ‘Ro."

"Gotta migraine." Storm groaned. "Can't stand light. Can't move my head, feels like it's going to explode."

"Oh 'Ro, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do, anything I can get for you?"

"No, I've just got to lie here quietly for a couple of hours, that's the only thing that helps. Jean, I'm sorry but there's no way I can go with you on the field trip today. I know the kids are going to be so disappointed but I just can't move."

"That's OK, dear. You just rest and try to get better." Jean answered soothingly, but inside her heart dropped. There was no way she could handle all the kids by herself. "I'll think of something. But before I go is there anything I can bring you from the kitchen? Maybe some eggs…" This suggestions produced a muffled groan from Ororo.

"No eggs, no food!" she begged, hoarsely. "Don't even talk about it, please Jean!"

"All right then, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone. Hope you feel better, 'Ro." She backed out of the room carefully, squeezing through a crack in the door, letting in as little light as possible. She turned and nearly ran head long into Logan who was right behind her. Letting out a muffled shriek she put one hand to her rapidly pounding heart and gasped.

"What are you doing here Logan? You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry, Darlin', didn't mean ta scare you." He said. "But I'm glad I found you just the same." Taking a closer look at her face he asked with concern,

"Is everything OK? You look like something's wrong."

Jean sighed.

"Oh, it's no big deal, really in the grand scheme of things. Just that Ororo is sick with a migraine and today was the day we were supposed to take all the younger students on a Biology fieldtrip. There's no way I can handle them all myself and they're going to be so disappointed when I have to call it off..." she trailed off.

"Is that all? That's no problem, Red." Logan grinned at her easily. "I can go with ya if all you need is another warm body around. Don't expect me ta teach any, though, Biology's not my field."

"Oh, Logan, would you really? That would be so nice of you, I'd really appreciate it and I know the kids will behave better with you around." Jean felt a deep sense of gratitude for the man before her. Any residual awkwardness lingering from their encounter the night before seemed to fade and she was just glad not to have to disappoint her students. Then, realizing that she was still standing quite close to him she backed off a little, feeling a bit shy.

"Um, we're starting right after breakfast and packing a picnic lunch so we can stay out all day." She said, looking down.

"Great, I'll be there." He responded.

"Thanks again, Logan. I...I'll meet you downstairs. I just need to get something from my room." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and hurried down the hall.

Once in her room Jean lectured herself for being a fool.

"He's just being friendly, Jean. Remember, you agreed to be friends? So get over it." It, of course was that strange attraction again, dragging at her whenever she was around Logan despite her best efforts. She remembered being held in his lap the night before, his arms around her feeling so safe, so protected. The vacant psy-bond where Scott's mind used to meet hers throbbed like an empty space after a tooth is pulled and she shook her head violently.

"What's the matter with me? I don't even have a link with Logan, let alone a psy-bond. And I never will have. Jean, get control of yourself. You're about to spend an entire day with the man. You can't continue to think like this..." She let out a long, aggravated sigh. There were going to be about a dozen kids swarming around them at all times, no time for silly thoughts or mysterious attractions. Breathing deeply she attempted to center herself. OK, so she was attracted to Logan and always had been. Hell, her relationship with Scott had been twisted beyond repair by that very fact. But she'd been around a lot of good looking guys in her time and it never affected her the way Logan did. If it wasn't something that Logan was able to do on purpose then it must be something else. The scientist in Jean insisted that there must be a logical explanation, something to do with Logan's mutation perhaps in conjunction with her own? She couldn't say, but now that she and Logan were on a friendly instead of a hostile footing, she determined to ask a few well placed questions if she got the chance. Maybe it was something to do with his body chemistry, with pheromones? A lot of interesting research had been done in that field recently... Jean mused, feeling more in control when her mind was on scientific facts than remembering the feel of Logan's arms around her.

She went down to the kitchen for breakfast.

*************************

"OK, kids, you know what to do. Has everybody got their jars? Good. Then go find some bugs! We'll meet back here at our original spot at around one o'clock for lunch. Don't get lost from your partners and don't go too far. Yell if there's a problem, OK?" Grinning, Jean sent the group of young mutants out into the early June sunshine and sank gratefully down to lean against a large oak tree that dominated the expansive meadow.

"Ya didn't tell me this was a bug hunt, Jeanie." Logan's voice was gruff but amused beside her, he was also leaning against the tree.

"You didn't ask." She said lightly, shading her eyes with her hand, the better to keep an eye on her students and smiling a little.

"So here's another question I didn't ask but I will now," he countered. "Why the hell do you have your students collecting bugs in the first place?"

"Well, I could say that it's important to study life in all it's many aspects, insects included or something lofty like that..." Jean turned to face him with a grin. "But the sad fact is that isn't the reason at all. It just so happens that an insect collection was something I had to do in junior high and so I thought, why not pass the agony along to my students? Handling those gross, creepy-crawly bugs, all those legs..." she trailed off with a mock shiver.

Logan studied her curiously and grinned.

"You know, Jeanie, somehow I don't think it bothered you all that much. I bet you even enjoyed it." Jean blushed for no real reason she could define, even to herself.

"Yeah, you caught me, Logan. I was always the one girl who didn't get grossed out. I was the weird one who wanted to dissect the frog. Science was always my best subject."

"Nothing wrong with that, Red." He said easily. Then his grin faded and a more serious look came over his face.

"You never asked me why I was looking for you this morning." He remarked, changing the subject entirely.

"Oh, were you? I thought we just ran into each other by accident." Jean said vaguely, looking away.

"No, I wanted to return this to you." He handed her the crumpled wad of paper that was Scott's letter. "You left it in the gym. I didn't read it but I didn't think you'd want anyone else finding it." He added softly.

Slowly, Jean took the crumpled letter from his hand and smoothing it a little, she saw Scott's familiar, neat handwriting. Though she was determined to hold her emotions in check, a single tear rolled down one cheek. Logan looked at her sympathetically and Jean had a feeling he would have liked to take her in his arms and comfort her again. She thought he almost certainly would have if they hadn't been loosely surrounded by her students. The thought made her shiver with emotions she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, softly, reaching out to catch the single tear with one finger. His touch made her heart race and Jean said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Yeah, it hurts. And not just the way you mean either, Logan."

"Oh? How else, Jeanie?" he studied his fingertip and the single droplet glistening there for a moment before putting his finger to his lips and tasting the tear.

Instead of putting him off with some explanation, Jean actually found herself taking, telling him the truth as she had told no one else. The truth of how Scott's leaving had affected her.

"Well, it's not just an emotional pain, Logan." She explained, haltingly, trying to find words for things which were only shapes inside her head. "It's like...see, Scott and I had what's known as a psy-bond. That is, we were always connected to each other, you understand?"

Logan frowned and shook his head.

"Not as well as I'd like to, Darlin'. You mean you were inside each others minds all the time? Didn't that get kinda...tiring?"

"Well, not really, Logan. You see, it wasn't quite like that. There are several different levels of bonding in telepathy. One is just a link. You can have a link with a close friend or several friends at once. I have a link with the professor for instance. A link just makes it easier to contact someone telepathically and you can reach them over longer distances. It's kind of like having someone's private phone number, you know?"

He nodded for her to continue.

"So there's a link which is a deliberate connection between two people. They don't have to both be telepathic, it's enough if one is. For instance, if I had a link with you, I could talk in your mind and could hear your thoughts as you replied. A link also implies consent and trust between the two people communicating; so you would have to trust me enough to let me enter your mind, at least enough to speak and I would have to trust you as well.

"So what happens if we...if the people involved don't trust each other?" Logan asked.

"Well, the stronger telepaths, like the Professor can scan someone's mind even if they're unwilling. I'm not nearly as strong as he is, I can do that a bit if the person being scanned doesn't have good mental shielding."

"Now why would you want to go and invade someone's privacy like that?" Logan demanded. "And how can somebody who's not a telepath have good 'shielding' as you put it?"

Jean shrugged guiltily.

"Maybe to find out why someone is doing something, to understand the motivations behind their actions. And you don't have to be a telepath to have good mental shields. It's usually just the sign of a very strong individual. You have strong shields, Logan."

He frowned, his face like a thundercloud.

"Tried ta scan me did ya, Red?" he asked without much surprise.

Looking down, Jean nodded.

"I wanted to understand why you just couldn't leave Scott alone. Why everything always had to be such a pissing contest between you two..."

"So what did you see?" Logan demanded, half angry, half ashamed.

"Nothing, it's like I told you, you have very strong shields. I'm sorry Logan."

"It's OK, Jeanie. I'm really sorry about...everything that happened with Scott." But Jean noticed that while he did offer and apology, he didn't offer to share the reasons behind his systematic campaign of aggravation toward her former fiancé, so she let the subject drop as being too uncomfortable.

"The other kind of connection in telepathy is also consensual. It's a psy-bond- that's what Scott and I had. It's very rare."

He nodded, glad to get back to the subject at hand and away from their previous awkward one.

"I'm with you, Red. So what's the difference between a link and a bond?"

Jean sighed, trying to think how to explain.

"Well, it's about a thousand times stronger, for one thing. With a link, you only have the ability to speak and listen telepathically with the person you're contacting. With a bond, you have access to the person you're bonded to, access to their memories, dreams, thoughts and feelings and they have access to yours. It's not like you're forced to hear and feel everything they do all day long- that would be to overwhelming. It's more like a radio station you're listening to in the background of your mind. You can turn it down to nearly nothing if you want or you can turn it up and tune in to your bond-mates thoughts and feelings. It probably sounds very invasive and horrible to you but it's not...it's quite wonderful, really..."

"You miss it." It wasn't a question but a statement of fact. Jean sighed.

"Yes, I miss it. When Scott left he...broke our bond very abruptly. It hurt, like he ripped a part of me up and threw it away. A psy-bond is supposed to last for life and so you put a lot of yourself into it...or at least I did."

"Will you ever be able to bond again?" Logan asked her quietly.

"I...I don't know. I don't know if I'd want to." She answered thoughtfully. "I miss that connection...having someone I can turn to at any time of the day or night. The part in me where Scott was is...raw. It hurts, aches so much. I don't know if I could open myself enough to bond with anyone again. Don't know if I could face that pain again if they left." She swiped at her eyes, angry with herself for getting so upset.

"Let's change the subject, Logan. I'm getting too emotional over here and I don't want the students to see me cry."

"What would you like to talk about?" He asked, his voice soft and low and comforting. For some reason, perhaps it was the tone of his voice or her closeness to him, Jean once again found herself thinking of being held in his arms the night before. Emotions of quite another kind began to overwhelm her and she grasped at any topic to take her mind off her body's reaction.

"What...what about what you told me last night? Something about being able to smell me, what I needed..."she trailed off, aware that this topic might not offer much in the way of distraction from her present thoughts.

"Smell what you need, Darlin'?" Logan's voice now sounded amused and she knew he hadn't failed to catch the double entendre she had unwittingly dropped.

"Yes, your mutation gives you an enhanced sense of smell, doesn't it?" Jean asked in what she hoped was a calm tone. "And last night when I was so upset, you acted like...well it seemed like you could smell it on me. But that's impossible I mean, you can't smell emotions, can you?"

Logan looked thoughtful.

"Well, I never thought of it like that, Red. But actually, that's not far from the truth. I can smell when someone's upset, tired, excited- strong emotions like that. I don't know, maybe those strong feelings change a person's body chemistry and that's what I smell. But for whatever reason I can tell. Last night I could tell you were hurting and upset..."

Jean shifted uncomfortably, thinking again of how it felt to be so close to Logan, to be touching him. She began to feel more strongly the attraction she always did when she was around him, began to feel her heart pound and her breathing speed up. Uneasily, she wondered if Logan could smell her desire for him. Looking over she saw his nostrils flare briefly as he looked back at her quietly. His posture which had been relaxed, leaning against the tree trunk had become tense, more focused on her. Grasping for something to say, Jean blurted out,

"Pheromones."

"What, Darlin'?" Logan asked.

"Pheromones, you must be smelling pheromones." Jean answered, feeling more in control of herself now that she was thinking instead of just feeling.

"Pheromones are very subtle smells our bodies give off that other people react to without knowing why. They're very faint, we, that is most people, can't even consciously smell them. But we react to them anyway. Perhaps your sense of smell is so enhanced that you can smell what most people only react to without understanding why."

Logan looked interested.

"Sounds like that might explain at least part of it." He allowed thoughtfully.

"There's been quite a bit of research done on it lately." Jean continued, now in full lecture mode. "Recently I read in a medical journal of a test that was conducted on a college campus. The researchers placed shirts that had been worn by male students all day with no cologne or deodorant in separate boxes for female students to smell. Based on smell alone, the girls were told to choose which man they would most like to get to know. The girls consistently picked men that were closest in genetic makeup to their fathers. This proved that natural selection was at work. The girls were more attracted to men who would make suitable mates genetically, who would combine the most compatible characteristics to make the strongest, healthiest children. In fact..." Jean paused thoughtfully, thinking. "In fact," she continued. "I wouldn't mind running a similar experiment on you, Logan." She murmured, half to herself.

Logan gave a snort of amusement.

"What, ya mean you want ta put everybody's panties in a box and let me sniff 'em to tell whose are whose?" he asked, incredulously.

Jean elbowed him playfully.

"No, not panties, Logan, shirts." She emphasized. "I'd like to try having some of the students wear shirts for a day and then put them in boxes for you to smell. I'd want you to identify not only who each shirt belonged to but what they were feeling for most of the day while they wore it."

"Too bad, Red." Logan grinned wolfishly. "Thought I was finally gonna get a chance at your panties."

"Logan!" she knew he was only teasing but his words still sent the blood rushing to her face, and her heart thumping.

"Sorry, Darlin'. Just kidding around." He apologized.

"Well, please don't. It...it makes me...uncomfortable..." Jean fidgeted, looking down at her hands and feeling the desire that had been dissipated by her scientific thoughts come rushing abruptly back.

"Yeah, I can tell." Logan's voice was low, intimate. "But if it bothers ya, Darlin', I won't tease you anymore."

"Thank you, Logan. I'd appreciate that." Jean still felt flushed and she couldn't help wondering what he meant, wondering again if he could smell her desire.

"But look, Jeanie." Logan continued, now obviously trying to change the subject himself. "If ya want ta run some kind of experiment like you mentioned I'll go along with it. I mean, I never thought much about it before but I don't mind."

Jean made an effort to pull herself together.

"Thank you, Logan. I think I would like to do something along those lines if you'll cooperate."

"No problem, Red." He said shortly.

"Well, isn't it time for lunch?" Jean asked, standing up and brushing off her slacks. "I'd better call the kids..."

part 5

The rest of the fieldtrip was uneventful, largely because Logan and Jean, as if by mutual consent both started actively helping her students search for bugs after lunch. The ride home was noisy and for once Jean was grateful for the kids being so boisterous. It meant she had no opportunity to speak further to Logan so the atmosphere between them had a chance to cool down. But he was such a perfect gentleman, never trying to get close to her, never pressing the advantage that she almost began to wonder if she hadn't been imagining the heat between them. Was she crazy, was it simply that she was attracted to Logan and not he to her? If only she could scan him… it was driving her nuts.

Laying in bed that night, Jean thought about it some more. It seemed to her that, logically, there were several possibilities. One: Logan was exuding some kind of a scent or pheromone that was turning her on without knowing it. Or maybe he knew it and couldn't help it. Two: perhaps she herself was putting out some kind of scent that attracted Logan and his lust was seeping into her subconscious telepathically without her being aware of it. This in turn turned Jean on who gave off more pheromones and it became a cycle that was self perpetuating. Three: (and this was the most laughable one of all Jean mentally told herself) Both of them were putting out pheromones like crazy and turning each other on because Logan was the one man who was a perfect match for her, genetically. He was a strong, alpha male. A protector who would breed healthy, viable children and her body had recognized this fact while her mind refused to accept it. Jean had to laugh at that one, though the idea of 'breeding' with Logan sent an undeniable shiver of desire and longing through her.

"Or I could just be horney." She said reflectively to her darkened bedroom ceiling. "It's been quite a while and it's not like Scott was ever very interested in sex…not that he didn't have a good excuse." She sighed and turned over on her side. The not knowing was just killing her. She felt that if she could only understand the reason behind her sudden lust whenever she was around Logan, if she could only analyze it she could begin to control it. After all, she told herself, knowing is half the battle. She couldn't go on like this, reacting like a hormone-crazed teenager whenever she got around him, but what could she do?

Abruptly, Jean sat up in bed.

"The experiment!" she half-yelled out loud. "That's it, the experiment Logan agreed to participate in…" She lay back on the pillows, suddenly excited, her mind racing at a hundred miles a minuet. The experiment, of course! She would, as she had told Logan, have the students wear identical white t-shirts which she would buy new for the purpose and have them record their strongest emotions while they wore them. Then, she would blindfold Logan and have him smell the shirts Hell, he could give a demonstration for the class of his mutational ability. Of course Jean would slip in a few unworn t-shirt for a control group so that the experiment would be unbiased. What she would also slip in, most likely after the students had gone, was an item of her own clothing. Then she could gage Logan's reaction to her scent. But how to gage it accurately? Again, her mind supplied the answer- hook him up to an EKG machine or some similar monitoring device. That way when she handed him the box containing her item of clothing she could monitor his heart rate and find out once and for all if it was she herself emitting the pheromones and at least half of her questions would be answered.

"I'll do it, and soon." Jean decided aloud. Then, feeling very pleased with herself, she rolled over and fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

Jean wasted no time in getting the experiment together. She already had Logan's consent, all she needed now were the necessary materials. The very next day in her spare time she went to the local Wal Mart and bought around a dozen one size fits all white t- shirts. She had decided to have eight students participate in the experiment and use four shirts as a control group. Since she didn't want Logan to know she was participating in the experiment, she couldn't wear a t-shirt herself. But she would substitute some other item of clothing instead, she decided. She thought about getting some tubes of unscented deodorant but reluctantly decided that it would interfere with the test results, the volunteers would just have to go without. She sighed. If she knew teenagers, she reflected, they were going to give her a hard time about not getting to wear deodorant, even in the name of Science and the 10 extra credit points she planned to award to participants.

Jean got home in time for dinner and was feeling very pleased with herself when she realized she had forgotten to get boxes to put the shirts in. Since her own item of clothing was going to be different from the t-shirts, she wanted to keep everything concealed.

"Well, there must be something I can use..." she told herself, digging around the mansion later that night, unwilling to make the long trip outside the grounds again. Luckily for her, she found that the paper and cardboard recycling box was full of just what she needed- cereal boxes. There were about 14 of the boxes although one had been ripped up. Probably one of the younger students looking for a prize, Jean reflected. At any rate, she only needed 13. Twelve for the t-shirts and one for her own article of clothing. Jean still wasn't sure what it should be but she was sure she'd think of something... She only hoped that the faint, lingering scent of cereal wouldn't hinder the accuracy of the test results.

"Better ask Logan." She murmured to herself and taking the cereal boxes back to her class room, she went in search of him. After a futile 15 minuets, Jean finally thought to look in the gym and that is where she found him, bench pressing what looked to be four or five hundred pounds. For the first time as she watched him from the doorway, Jean realized how incredibly strong he really was. He was shirtless and the muscles on his chest and arms glistened with a fine layer of sweat as he lifted the weights effortlessly over his head, again and again as smoothly as a machine. Jean watched for a while, enjoying the sight of his body working, the muscles bunching and writhing beneath his tan skin. It was the first time she had seen him with his shirt off since the last time she examined him and she reflected naughtily that perhaps it was time for another physical...

"Stop that Jean." She told herself, silently. "Just go and ask him the question."

Trying to act casual, she wandered into the gym and said,

"Oh, Logan, I've been looking for you everywhere. I'm so glad I found you."

"Hello, Jeanie." He said, without surprise and Jean had to wonder if he had been aware of her presence before she announced herself. Just how strong were his senses, anyway? He placed the bar back on the rack and sat up.

"Hand me that towel, would ya?" He asked, gesturing to a limp white hand towel hanging over the weight rack close to where she stood. Jean handed it to him and watched as he wiped the sweat from his cheeks and forehead before turning to face her.

"What's up, Red? You need something?" he asked, curiously. Even though they were friends now, Jean still didn't seek him out much voluntarily.

"Well, actually, I just need to ask a question. Remember the experiment we discussed on the day of the fieldtrip?"

"Uh-huh, go on..."

Jean did, explaining her idea that Logan could do a type of demonstration for the class while hooked up to a monitor.

"I don't know, Jeanie. You know about my past, as much as anyone can, anyway. I'm not real happy about the idea of being tied down and hooked up to machinery..." Logan made a face and his words made Jean remember the series of experiments that had been done on him and the terrible pain he had endured when the adamantium had been bonded to his skeleton. She hastened to reassure him,

"Oh no, Logan! You won't be tied down- you could just sit in a chair with your shirt off, of course, so I could attach the leads- just like you are now. I promises that this experiment would involve no pain whatsoever. It would just be a simple demonstration of your mutational abilities for the kids. You know, many of our students are struggling to control their abilities and powers right now. If they could see a adult who had mastered his then it could be very inspirational for them. Please Logan, don't back out on me now! I've already gotten everything together..."

Logan laughed at the pleading expression on her face.

"All right, Red. If it means that much to ya, I'll do it. When is it set for?"

"Three days from now but there's just one slight problem..." Jean explained about the cereal boxes and asked if the faint smell of cereal would contaminate the experiment.

"Hell, no, Darlin'." Logan reassured her. "That won't be a problem at all. I can sort out different scents just like a blood hound. For instance, you could bury yourself in a whole room full of cereal, or anything else for that matter, and I could still sniff you out, no problem."

This gave Jean the odd image of herself up to her neck in pre-sweetened breakfast cereal and yelling for help. She had to smile at the thought.

"What's so funny, Darlin'?" Logan wanted to know.

"Just imagining myself buried in fruit loops and you digging through them to rescue me." Jean answered, still grinning. "Silly..." she added.

"Yeah, I guess so." Logan grinned as well and suddenly Jean was aware of how very close he was, how very half-naked...

"Um, I guess I'd better go, Logan." She said hurriedly. Thanks again for agreeing to participate in this little demonstration. If you'll just be at my classroom on Friday at around twelve thirty, that should give me plenty of time to set things up and get you hooked up to the leads."

"It's a date." Logan promised, giving her that wolfish grin.

"OK, see you then." And Jean left before her desire could get the better of her.

That night, while feeling the empty throbbing of the old psy-bond again she wondered at his choice of words...

"No big deal." She told herself sternly. "Forget about it and get to sleep, Jean." She did eventually take her own advice but it wasn't easy and when she did, her dreams were troubled.

The next day, Jean explained the experiment to her Biology class and found eight volunteers to wear the shirts.

"Now remember, no perfume and no cologne." She told them. "And no deodorant." As she had predicted to herself, there were several groans and protests and some of the girls tried to back out all together.

"No protests!" she commanded. "Deodorant will interfere with your sweating process. We want you to sweat- so your personal odor is all over the shirts for Logan to smell. Do you want the 10 points extra credit or not?" This time there were fewer protests so Jean considered the battle won and went on to recap her instructions.

"So," she repeated. "Tomorrow, put on the shirts as soon as you wake up in the morning and keep them on all day until bedtime. While you are out and about doing your daily routine I want you to record any strong emotions you may have that day. And I don't mean just happiness that we have pancakes for breakfast." She continued, fastening her eye on Bobby, who was a practical joker, with mock seriousness.

"Oh boy, do we?" he grinned back, knowing she was teasing him. "I can feel myself sweating already!" The class laughed and Jean let them for a minuet before taking control again.

"That's enough, Robert." She reprimanded with a grin. "As I was saying, write down two or three strong emotions. The day after tomorrow you can drop the shirts off to me at breakfast along with your list of feelings. I will number the shirts and put them in boxes so that we can have our demonstration that afternoon. Any questions? Good, then turn to chapter 13..."

Part 6

The morning of the experiment, Jean found herself sitting next to Logan at breakfast.

"Morning, Red." He said easily, taking the chair beside her and pouring a generous dollop of syrup on his waffles.

"Everything ready for the big experiment?"

"Just about." Jean smiled back, trying to ignore the way his nearness made her stomach flutter and her palms sweat.

"I've got all the equipment set up in my classroom." Seeing Logan's look she said soothingly, "Don't worry Logan, it's only an EKG monitor. Believe me, you won't even notice it."

"All right, Jeanie. But I hope you know I'd never do this for anyone else but you. I don't much like being studied..."

Jean wasn't sure what to make of his comment.

"I...well thank you, Logan. I'm very touched and flattered. But I promises you it will be quite painless."

"Well, I'm counting on you to live up to that promise." He half growled. Then, seeming to decide he would put the whole thing behind him he sighed and his face cleared.

"Anyway, you want me to be at your classroom at twelve, right?"

"Twelve thirty, actually. Thirty minuets should give us plenty of time to place the leads and put on the blind fold." She certainly didn't want him there a whole hour early. Just the idea of having a shirtless, blindfolded Logan sitting around in her room for a whole hour was enough to make her break out into a fresh sweat. *...stay calm... * she reminded herself. *...gonna get the answers to this mystery once and for all very soon. Then, I'll be able to start dealing with it... * It didn't occur to her that she was treating her attraction like some kind of disease to be eradicated. All Jean could see was that the pull towards him was getting stronger every time she saw him. Even now, just sitting beside him at breakfast she was shifting uncomfortably in her chair, crossing her legs tightly and trying to lean away from him as unobtrusively as possible. God, her hands were sweating and her breathing was getting ragged... Logan was looking at her curiously, nostrils flaring.

"You OK, Jeanie? You look kind of uncomfortable over there." He observed, eyeing her curiously.

"Fine Logan. It's just this...skirt." She lied, grasping for something to say, some way to deflect his attention.

"It's...it's too tight. Keeps getting twisted..." realizing she was babbling, Jean shut up, feeling miserable. *...I have to get away from him...God, am I going into heat or what?... *

Logan looked down at her skirt which was perfectly straight, knee length, and not particularly tight.

"Looks fine ta me." He remarked.

"Well..." Jean was at a loss for words. Suddenly one of her students waving a white t-shirt caught her eye. Gratefully, she turned quickly towards Logan and said,

"Oops, I'd better go now Logan. Looks like the students are arriving with their t-shirts so I'd better go collect them."

"Stay, Jeanie. I'm finished with my breakfast and you haven't touched yours. I think I'll go work out for a while but I'll see you in your classroom at twelve thirty." Rising, he carried his empty plate to the sink.

"See you later, Logan." Jean called and turned with a grateful grin to Bobby who was just handing her his t-shirt. "Thanks you, Robert. I'll see you in class..."

Breakfast ran late and then Jean had other duties to attend to before she could get to her classroom. By the time she got everything done and made her way to the empty room it was almost twelve and she realized she'd have to rush to get all the shirts in boxes and properly numbered before Logan came.

She was doing fine, though with no time to spare and it was twelve twenty five when Jean realized she had forgotten the most important thing of all- an item of her own clothing.

"Damn!" she swore. There was absolutely no time to run back to her room, Logan would be here any second and she didn't want him to suspect anything. Frantically she searched around herself. She couldn't remove her shirt, skirt or bra for obvious reasons, likewise her shoes would be missed and every one would wonder why she was barefoot. Where could she get an item she had been wearing for a while that wouldn't be missed?

*...think, Jean, think... * she commanded herself angrily. How could she be so stupid? This was the whole point of the experiment, everything else was just window dressing. Why from the moment she had first suggested it and Logan had said that silly thing about putting everybody's panties in a box...That was it! She realized. An article of clothing that she had been wearing close to her skin that wouldn't be missed. Her panties. For a moment, common sense tried to whisper in her ear...what will Logan think? What if he sees...?

"Shut up." She muttered ruthlessly to that inner voice. "He's not going to see, they'll be hidden in a box. Besides, there's no other option and I'm not going to let all this work go to waste!"

Hastily, before she could change her mind, Jean reached beneath her skirt and snagged her panties, which happened to be a pair of plain, pale blue cotton bikinis. Just as she was stuffing them into the 13th box, she heard a knock at her classroom door. Quickly she placed the box behind all the others and closed the top. Smoothing down her knee length skirt she called in a voice that trembled ever so slightly with nerves,

"Come in."

Logan walked in with a smile but stopped short as he closed the door behind him. Sniffing the air he looked at her very strangely.

"Something wrong, Logan?" Jean managed to ask, trying to act concerned and innocent and failing completely.

"Uh, no Darlin'. Not a thing. It's just that...well, there's a very good, uh... strong...aroma in here."

"Must be coming from the shirts." Jean smiled and lied easily. "Are you ready to get to it, Logan?"

Perhaps it was her choice of words but he looked at her sharply before replying,

"Yeah, ready when you are, Red."

"Excellent. Then please sit down on that chair at the front of the class and I'll get the portable EKG machine..." she bustled off, trying like hell to look and sound professional and unconcerned but the fact of the matter was that just being in the same room with him was getting to be too much. Sternly, she tried to control herself, ruthlessly pushing down the feelings of lust that resurfaced again and again in her mind.

"Now Logan, if you could just take off your shirt?" she made it a request, as she rolled the machine next to him. "So I can attach the leads." She explained.

Without comment, Logan did as she asked. Reaching his arms behind his head he sinuously pulled the tight black t-shirt off and let it drop to a pile of lose fabric on the floor. Struggling grimly with herself, Jean knelt beside him and began to attach the leads to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Logan but you may lose some chest hair when we pull these off again." She tried to say nonchalantly, as though his nearness and the fact that she was touching his naked skin wasn't causing her heart to jackhammer in her chest.

"No problem." He growled, lazily. "There's plenty more where that came from." As if to illustrate his point, one large, capable hand came up and began to caress his belly as though without thought. Jean watched the long, strong fingers play over his abs and wished desperately that it was her hand instead. Sighing, Logan stretched like a great cat and two fingers actually dipped below the waistband of his jeans. Jean forced her eyes away from the erotic sight and her own pornographic thoughts and stood quickly.

"Well, that's that." She remarked, briskly, thankful she could put on EKG leads in her sleep and thus had not needed to concentrate to get the task done. "Now for the blindfold." She remarked. "I hope you don't mind, Logan. I want everything set up so that when the students get here we can go right to the experiment."

"No problem." He said again. "I see at least as well with my nose as with my eyes, maybe better. Go ahead, Jeanie. I won't miss anything."

"OK, then." Trembling a little with suppressed desire, Jean took up the broad length of black satin cloth she planned to use and walked up be hind him. She cleared her throat nervously.

"Close your eyes, Logan." She instructed... "No fair peeking..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Red." And when she still hesitated, he encouraged,

"Go ahead, Darlin', I'm all yours." The tone of his voice was low, intimate, like dark chocolate at the back of her throat.

Unable to reply, Jean reached around him and gently but firmly placed the satin band of cloth over his eyes and tied it in the back. Her hands lingered over his shoulders when she was done...wanting to touch him more...unwilling to just back away. Suddenly a scene flashed through her mind: Logan blindfolded as he was now but also tied, hands behind his back as he sat upright in the chair. His jeans were open and his massive erection jutted angrily up and out before him Jean saw herself sitting on his lap, lifting up to press it deep inside herself...heard herself hiss with the mingled pain and pleasure of his deep penetration and heard also Logan's horse shout as she slid down upon him...saw herself riding him...fucking him with utter abandon...The scene was so vivid, so real, that she almost lost it. Was in the act of striding around the chair to yank open his fly...

The opening of the classroom door saved her and she snatched her hands guiltily away and turned to great her students.

"Hello class, please take your seats." She said mechanically, running on autopilot. Behind her in his chair, she could swear she heard heavy breathing from Logan's direction. Whose thought had it been, his or her own? Had he even seen it? Had it jumped from his mind to hers? *...Impossible, I don't even have a link with him... *

But it was time to start class. Taking a trembling breath, Jean attempted to put the thought behind her. *Later...later... * she told herself.

"Today's class is going to be short so listen up." She instructed. Brief cheers from the assembled students greeted this statement and she held up a hand for silence before she what on.

"Today we'll be viewing a brief demonstration that Logan has so graciously agreed to participate in for our benefit. He has agreed to smell the shirts our volunteers wore all day yesterday and tell us who wore what shirt and what strong emotions they were feeling at the time. Please note that Logan is blindfolded and had not seen the shirts or the numbering on the boxes." Brief, polite applause as Jean wheeled a rolling cart up from the back of the classroom with a number of cardboard cereal boxes sitting upright on it, each with a shirt in side and the lid tightly closed. Each had a number marked on the front in bold, black magic marker. Number 13 was last.

"I want you to all watch carefully and take notes. I will expect a three page typed write- up of this experiment and it's implications on Monday. You may help each other but remember, no plagiarism, please." Brief groans and she again held up her hand for silence. "Quiet please, we are about to begin. Kitty," she motioned to the girl sitting closest to her in the front row, "You may serve as my assistant. Open each box in turn and wave it under Logan's nose. I will note the accuracy of his responses and also monitor the EKG readout as you do."

Jean stepped carefully out of the way, out of Logan's reach to the other side of the EKG machine and picking up her clipboard she nodded for Kitty to begin.

"Box number one." She said out loud, Kitty grabbed the box from the rolling cart beside her, opened it and waved it under Logan's nose.

"Bobby wore that one." Logan said, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

"Strong emotions he experienced that day?" Jean asked, making a note on her clipboard and speaking in her best "I'm a professional scientist" tone.

"Hmmm, smells like... guilt and some fear. Maybe just excitement." Logan responded without a pause. Jean didn't need to check her clipboard to tell his response was accurate. Bobby sat in the back of the class, his mouth hanging open in awe and disbelief.

"Hey, were you cheating on a test or just sneaking a peek in the girls shower room again?" grinned John, his classmate, elbowing Bobby in the ribs.

"John, I will tolerate no interruptions." Jean said sharply. "Any one else that comments out loud may leave the room. Logan is doing this for your benefit and he needs to concentrate." Nodding to Kitty she said, "Next please."

"Sorry." Mumbled John, sulkily and Kitty proceeded to the next box.

It contained one of the control shirts which had never been worn and Logan waved it off almost contemptuously.

"Nothing." He stated, flatly. "Nobody wore this one. All I smell is Cheerios."

The class laughed a bit, but quietly. They had all sensed the mood Jean was in and knew better than to get too loud.

The experiment went on quickly and Jean noted Logan's responses as he gave them- completely accurate, every one. The EKG showed no changes at all, just a steady, unexcited heart rhythm that indicated nothing but perfect calm, perhaps even boredom. This was easy for Logan, too easy. Jean began to have second thoughts, serious ones about box number 13. Was it wise to do this? Maybe she had just better forget about it...

She was snapped out of her reverie by Kitty's voice saying,

"Number 13."

Jean watched in horrified slow motion as Kitty opened the cardboard flaps and reached to wave the box under Logan's nose. She wanted to stop it, saw now that it was a grave mistake but the whole thing was like a bad dream...she wasn't fast enough, couldn't get around the bulky EKG machine in time...

Before she could stop him, Logan took a deep sniff of the contents of box 13 and instantly, his whole demeanor changed. He had been slouching in the chair, legs spread casually out before him in an attitude of calm boredom. Now he sat straight up and his hand was only a blur as he grabbed Kitty's wrist in an iron grip. The startled girl squealed in surprise and pain and the box dropped neatly from her suddenly lifeless fingers into Logan's own, large hand. Jean noted from the corner of her eye that the EKG readout was going crazy, the needle inscribing jagged peaks and spikes over the narrow strip of paper. Logan's chest was heaving with emotion and sweat was breaking out on his muscular, bare upper body; he seemed about to explode.

The class was in an uproar, starting from their seats and Kitty was cradling her wrist which Logan had dropped as soon as she relinquished the box.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Is Kitty all right?"

"What's wrong?" The students were shouting all together and chaos was about to ensue.

"Class, class, calm down! Sit down, every one of you!" Jean demanded, trying to take control again. Miraculously, it worked. The students sat with much grumbling, fidgeting nervously and watching the obviously still agitated Logan who still clutched box 13 fiercely in one large hand. The top was still open and his nostrils flared rhythmically, obviously still smelling the contents.

Bobby, from the back of the room, spoke up bravely for everyone.

"But what's wrong? Who wore the shirt in that box?"

Jean was at a loss for words and it surprised her to hear Logan's deep voice answering the question.

"Nobody wore it." He said hoarsely, almost growling. "Nothing ta smell but Fruit Loops." The class looked at him curiously, not the least because the box he clutched was clearly marked Shredded Wheat. But Jean caught the reference to their conversation of several nights before and her stomach did a slow flip as fear twisted in her gut. What had she done?

"Logan's reaction to box 13 is to demonstrate what we call a "false positive" in the Scientific world." She heard herself babbling, making things up off the top of her head.

"So I'll expect you to include that in your reports. If you don't know what it is then look it up. Now, class dismissed." She quieted a rising babble of questions and protests forcefully. "I said Class Dismissed." She nearly shouted, feeling that she was losing it and only wanting to get her students out of the room and away from Logan as fast as she could. She could tell he was only holding on to his self control by a thread and it was time to face the music and finish what she had started.

Slowly, the students began filing out, casting sidelong, mistrustful glances at Logan as they went. Jean noted that Kitty was no longer holding her wrist. Good, then she had been more surprised than hurt. It was fortunate that Logan had not used all of his strength; Jean's mind returned to the night in the gym when she had watched him bench press 500 pounds with ease and she shivered. He could have ground Kitty's bones to so much dust if he hadn't been careful. She wondered how careful he would be with her when all of the students finally cleared out of the room...

Finally the last student was safely gone and Jean closed the door behind them and leaned back against it weakly; her legs didn't seem to want to support her. She had never been so afraid of Logan before, not even the first time she examined him when he had jumped from the table and locked his arm around her throat. She was putting as much distance between herself and him as possible although she knew he could move like lightening and be on her before she could so much as turn the knob. She berated herself again for her stupid behavior. She had sown the wind and was about to reap the whirl wind...

Behind her she heard Logan stirring, a dangerously soft, deliberate sound. Finally, he spoke.

"What the fuck," he demanded, "Is this, Jeanie?"

"I...I..." Jean found herself at a loss for words. "I can explain, Logan..." she began, but he cut her off.

"What are you trying ta do to me, Red?" he demanded. "Was trying ta make me lose it completely part of your little experiment?"

"I..." No words came.

"Or is the experiment still going on?" he snarled, and she could hear him ripping off the EKG leads as he spoke. "Want me ta go on describing what I smell so you can write it down? Well how about this..." Jean turned to face him, he had removed the blind fold and the look in his eyes said he would not be stopped. He took another deep whiff of the contents of the box, stood up and began to advance on her.

"What we have in this box, lucky number 13," he said, taking a step. "Is not a shirt worn by any of the students. And it's not a fuckin' false positive, as you called it either. In fact," he advanced another step and Jean found herself edging away from the door and around the side of the classroom to keep away from him.

"In fact, " he said again, "It's not a shirt at all. It your fuckin' panties, Darlin'. The ones you were wearing this morning to be exact. You remember, when you were squirmin' all over yer chair and saying how yer skirt was too tight?" Jean realized with horror that what he said was true. Not only had she given Logan a pair of her panties to smell, she had given him ones she had been wearing while aroused- very aroused. As if reading her mind he continued.

"Now don't let me forget any part of the data ya need for this experiment, Red." He sneered, advancing again and forcing Jean to back to the rear of the classroom to get away. Abruptly, she felt something hit her backside and realized it was the long counter running the length of the back wall. She had literally backed her self into a corner and still Logan was advancing.

"I'm supposed ta say what strong emotions ya felt while you were wearing these, right?" he brandished the box in front of her face and he continued towards her.

"Well how about heat, Darlin'? That's right, my nose don't lie ta me." He said as Jean shook her head in silent denial that she knew to be a lie.

"Well then try this on for size," he continued, "Wanting, needing, craving." He counted them off. "How about plain, old-fashioned lust? Roll in the dirt like a bitch-in-heat fuck-lust. Would that be accurate, would you say, Darlin'?"

"Logan," Jean managed to find her voice and even insert some authority into it.

"It was a mistake, I see that now. But please try to calm down and stop acting like I showed you a naked picture of myself. For god's sake, they're only a pair of panties...Control yourself." She commanded.

"Control myself? You've got some fuckin' nerve, Jeanie." He raged, getting closer all the time. "You pretend ta know so much about pheromones and my mutation and all that scientific shit. Showed me a naked picture of yourself? If you knew *half* as much as you pretend to you'd realize what you did was about a thousand times worse. Do you know, do you have any idea how hard it is to control myself around you?" he demanded, now nearly in her face, his body straining and trembling inches from her own. Jean shook her head, not daring to say a word.

"From the moment I first saw you, first smelled you I've wanted you, Red. More than any other woman I've ever come across. That first time, when I jumped off your exam table and grabbed you I had to let you go, had to run away before I did something we'd both regret." Jean shivered as she realized he was talking about raping her. Logan continued.

 " I could hardly stand it, the sight of you with Scott. I knew you were taken but I couldn't help pushing it, pushing Scott even though I told myself to stop- to forget about you. But every time I got around you, got near you, you started smelling so good- so fuckin' hot and I knew you wanted it, wanted it bad. You've been driving me crazy, Red. Why do you think I've been shielding my thoughts?" seeing her look of disbelief he nodded.

"Yeah, I'm not a telepath but that doesn't make me a moron either. I've been around a lot longer than you know, Darlin' and I know how ta shield. I shielded from you because every time I saw you, smelled you, got close to you, all I wanted ta do was throw you down and fuck you as hard as I could. I went to Canada, pretending to look for my past just ta get away from you. But I couldn't get you, get your goddamned scent outta my mind. I had to come back, had to be near you. Because I could tell that deep down, maybe even so deep you couldn't see it yourself that you wanted it too...

"Every damn time I'm anywhere near you it's an exercise in self control. And now you go and do this...this fuckin' experiment. And it wasn't about demonstrating my abilities to the kids or teaching them about pheromones or any other bullshit like that. It was about finding out if I felt the same way you did, finding out why being around me makes your panties so damp..."

Through numb lips, Jean heard herself say, "You could tell, all the time..."

"Hell, yes, Jeanie, I could always tell. I knew before you did, haven't you been listening? Do you have any idea, any fucking idea how obvious your heat is to me? I can hear your heartbeat across a crowded room if I concentrate. I can hear your breathing speed up as I get closer, can smell your lust like fine perfume in the air..." his voice lowered dangerously and her finally closed the inches wide gap between their bodies.

"I can practically taste the dampness in the palms of your hands, the wetness between your legs..." He growled hoarsely, grinding his pelvis against Jeans.

"Oh God, Logan..." Jean began, then broke off to moan as Logan kicked her knees apart with one swift move and insinuated his groin between her thighs. Reaching down, he raked up her skirt and lifted her bodily from the floor to press her mercilessly into the counter behind them. Jean cried out as his massive hardness, still encased in his straining jeans made contact with her open thighs, then pressed deeper, into the center of her wetness. He wasn't raping her, hadn't even made a move to unbutton his skin tight jeans but he wasn't far from it either and Jean cried out in shame and pleasure as the rough fabric over his erection pressed inwards and then parted her, opened her, and rubbed deliciously over her clitoris. To her horror, she found she was rubbing back, bucking against him as he ground into her with no mercy, no pity, only a fierce need to be close to her, to be in her. His bare chest glistened with sweat as he pulled her closer, his hands wrapped around her ass as he pushed and thrust against her endlessly...

*...So hot, so wet... * Jean became aware abruptly that she was hearing his thoughts. But how was that possible?

*...wanna fuck you, Jeanie. Wanna watch you scream while I fuck you, while I ram my cock inside you... * This thought accompanied by vivid images of Jean bent over the counter, skirt pushed up and Logan behind her, fucking her, spreading her open with his hugeness as she screamed and moaned and begged for it, begged for more...

Jean moaned aloud, the mental link or whatever it was, was too much. She was hovering on the brink of orgasm and Logan knew it... somehow he knew it.

*...but if I can't fuck you for real, Darlin'... * she heard his mental voice whisper, as hoarse with desire as his physical voice was, *...then at least I can make you come. Wanna watch you come for me, Darlin'. I can feel how wet, how ready you are. You love how it feels, you know you want more... Wanna get fucked so bad... God I want ta feel you around me... wanna fuck you so hard... *

It was too much. Crying and gasping, Jean felt herself clinging to him, scratching his broad shoulders as he pressed against her, rubbing her wet open cunt with his massive, thick, straining shaft, the fabric of his jeans rude and rough and deliciously hurtful all at once. Then she was moaning and grabbing handfuls of his stiff, wild black hair to pull him down as he pumped against her. She was kissing him and he was devouring her mouth, hard, angry kisses that hurt and felt undeniably right at the same time.

"God, Logan...." She moaned, feeling her orgasm begin, feeling it surge up and crash over her as she cried out and writhed against him, wishing desperately that he would push down his jeans and just do it- fuck her for real...

Logan must have somehow caught her thought because he said aloud, hoarsely, "Don't temp me, Darlin'...I want you so much right now I can't stand it. I'd hurt you...I wanna fuck you till you scream..."

"Do it!" she hissed. "Why don't you just fucking do it, Logan."

"No- not like this. Can't, shouldn't. Shouldn't even be doing this..."

Abruptly, he pulled away, gasping, pushing away from her, leaving her spread out and open for him, wanting him...needing him.

"God, Jeanie, I'm so sorry. Don't know what came over me..." he groaned, putting distance between them, turning away from her.

"Logan, don't..."

"Sorry..." and he was gone, leaving her leaning against the counter now damp with her passion. Leaving her to try and collect herself, to understand what had happened as she pushed down her skirt slowly as if in a dream. Had she been raped? There had been no penetration and there is that old saying, she reflected,

"Can't rape the willing." She said it aloud. The classroom was a mess, boxes scattered all around and the EKG machine with spools of paper tape hanging limply down... But Jean just couldn't face cleaning up. Numbly, she picked up box number 13 and tucking it under her arm she left the rest for another day. Walking in a daze up to her room she let herself in and fell on the bed in a haze.

It wasn't until much later that she realized the ache in her mind was gone, that the empty spot where Scott had been was filled....

TBC