~*~
Chapter Ten: Cashing in the Chips
~*~
Eventually the interminable meeting came to an end. When it did, Jean was the first one out the door. Logan smiled at her swiftly retreating back.
That's it, darlin'. Run. You know I like a good chase.
He knew she wouldn't 'hear' him. She'd closed her mind up tighter than a drum after their last exchange. Too bad. Things were just getting interesting. Logan pushed himself from the chair, uncoiling like a lazy predator. The motion was smooth and controlled but deceptive. He was feeling anything but calm. He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed a stiff drink, a good fight and a long hard fuck... although not necessarily in that order.
Charles watched Jean's hurried flight intently as the others prepared to leave. There was no mistaking the thick tension that filled the small room today. Idly, Charles wondered if it had anything to do with what Logan had been projecting earlier. During the meeting, he'd felt Logan's immense shields slip once or twice and each time the force of the arousal emanating from him was staggering.
Both times he passively scanned the others, more out of habit than anything else. Even though they were grown, he still considered them his children and he 'listened' for potential problems the same way another parent might keep an ear open for any trouble. Understandably, the others seemed a bit more tense than usual but he was surprised to find Jean's mind was a complete blank. He couldn't sense a thing. Perhaps she too had closed her mind up tight against Logan's base thoughts, but he wasn't completely sure that was the case here. There was a difference between a closed mind and a mind that was deliberately blank. Charles took a sip from his now cold tea and carefully replaced the cup on the saucer. That thought was distinctly unsettling.
Logan stalked to the door, past caring that his erection was clearly visible. Not even twenty minutes of listening to Scott and Hank discuss calculus and chemistry had any effect on it, but he was certain nobody would be stupid enough make a wise crack at his expense. Not in his current black mood. They knew him too well.
Logan felt the weight of Scott's stare and paused in the doorway, intending to make some wise-ass remark, but something in the man's scent stopped him. His scent was just... off somehow and it irritated Logan to no end that he couldn't read Scott by the look in his eyes or by his scent. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice directed at his broad back. The soft patois was thick with barely restrained irritation.
"Remy t'ink dat you should get out of his way, homme. Now."
What the fuck? The Cajun knew better than to talk to him like that.
Logan didn't move from the doorway. "You got some kinda problem, Gumbo?" If he didn't, he sure as hell was about to.
"Oui, certainement." His red on black eyes were slightly glassy and glittered darkly with arousal. Logan's nostrils flared as he took in Remy's scent.
Shit.
Caught up in shielding himself from the telepath, he'd forgotten all about the empath. No wonder Remy looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. Two ruddy spots of color rested high on Remy's cheekbones and Logan bet good money he was glad for the long trench coat that hid the more obvious signs of his discomfort.
Remy spoke again, pitching his voice low enough so that only Logan could hear it. "Remy don't care how it gets done, homme, but you settle t'ings with la belle petite." His eyes flashed and Logan could feel the fine hairs on his nape stand on end from the charge bleeding off the younger man. "Remy not survive another meeting like dis one, non?" His voice returned to normal.
"Now, move before Remy moves you his self, homme." From the charge building around him, Logan had no doubt Remy was ready to do exactly as he claimed. Logan bit back a growl. As close as he was to losing control, Remy's order grated on him but he crushed down the urge to teach the kid a lesson for talking to him like that. It was his own damn fault anyway.
Without waiting for Logan to fully move out of the way, Remy shouldered past him cursing quietly and disappeared down the hallway.
"Would you care to explain that, Logan?"
Logan spared Storm a glance. Yeah, sure, darlin'. Gumbo needs a good hard roll in the hay after listenin' to Jeannie try to mind fuck me for the last half hour. Probably not the best answer to give, all things considered.
Logan grunted noncommittally as he pulled a cigar from his pocket. "Nope." He tucked it between his lips and walked away without another word.
~*~
Late that evening, Jean finally returned to the room she shared with her fiancé. Now that she'd come down from the sexual high she'd been riding all afternoon, guilt ate at her. She honestly hadn't intended things to go that far - well, not on her part anyway. She'd fully intended to teach Logan a lesson he wouldn't forget anytime soon. She just hadn't planned on getting caught up in her own little game... or on enjoying it so much. No, that hadn't been part of the plan at all.
If she was honest with herself, it really hadn't taken much at all for her to get caught up in the seductive little game. If she was brutally honest with herself, she grudgingly admitted as wrong as it was, she no longer wanted to fight her attraction to Logan and that thought scared the living daylights out of her. She wasn't that person, was she?
She was Dr. Grey for God's sake. She was the good girl. The good student. The good little soldier. The one who always followed the rules no matter what it cost her. So how was it that she'd found herself here? Is this where following the rules led? She had a ring on her finger. She slept in one man's bed and dreamed of being fucked wildly by another. She wanted to be a wife and a mother, didn't she? She'd never have that with Logan. He wasn't that man. In fact, he'd specifically told her he wasn't that man.
Be that as it may, she couldn't ignore the voice inside her. The voice that spoke in dark fiery whispers. The voice that made her question herself and all her carefully thought out dreams. The voice that whispered seductively of the raw power that shimmered in hidden places inside her and spoke of wild urgency and animalistic desires. The voice that told her she'd regret it the rest of her life if she didn't give in to the desire to run wild and to taste the wildness that ran in Logan. The voice that breathed the fire in her to life. The voice that called herself Phoenix.
Dammit!
There was no peace to be found. Not in the hallway outside her door, certainly not inside the room she shared with Scott, not in their relationship, not in her life, not even in her own mind. The beast clawed at her insides. Too much emotion. Guilt. Rage. Lust. Frustration. Helplessness. Anger. It swirled around violently, making her skin feel too tight to contain it. There was no room to move. No room to think. No room to breathe. Something had to give.
In the end, it wasn't something that gave. It was someone.
Seething with too many emotions to control, Jean jerked the door open and stalked inside. The sight that met her eyes shocked her into unnatural stillness, both inside and out. It was like stepping back ten years in time. Trust Scott to be able to remember even the most minute detail. This was exactly the way her room had looked before he'd moved into it so long ago.
Every single trace of him was gone. The haphazard clutter of his papers on the desk - gone. His beloved books, all his CD's, his guitar and the amp she couldn't stand but tolerated for him - all gone. His odd nick knacks and little gifts students had given him had disappeared. Scott might be organized but he was not a neat freak. He had small piles everywhere but always claimed there was a method to his madness. The room felt empty, sterile without his clutter. His very essence swept away by the stark hard lines of the immaculate room.
The toes of his favorite beat-up shoes weren't peeking out from under the bed. His spare glasses weren't on the dresser nor were his sleep goggles on the nightstand in their usual place. A quick telekinetic pull showed all his drawers in the dresser to be empty, his clothes gone from closet, and his laundry removed from the hamper. Even the drawer in his nightstand where they kept their condoms was empty. The bathroom was the same. One toothbrush not two. No shaving cream. No razor. No dog-eared book on the back of the toilet. No aftershave bottle on the glass shelf next to her perfume. Nothing.
Shaken, Jean turned around; resting heavily against the bathroom doorjamb when she saw he'd even rehung the painting she'd had in here before he moved in. The one he'd always hated. The one they'd spent countless hours shopping hand-in-hand to replace with one they both liked. Everything was exactly the same, down to the smallest detail. He'd even replaced the bowl of potpourri she used to keep on her nightstand before they found out he was allergic to it.
The worst part was she knew he hadn't done it to prove a point. He was simply trying to put things right for her. She had the distinct feeling things wouldn't be 'right' for a long, long time.
"Jean."
Her head snapped up. He was so still sitting in the chair by the door she hadn't even seen him. At his feet was a small box with 'us' written on it in his messy scrawl. Inside it rested a small mound of the things that were 'theirs'. Cards, gifts, pictures of the two of them together, small things they'd chosen together to make this room theirs. A stray thought filtered through her mind. They'd been together nearly ten years. Shouldn't that 'us' box be bigger? Certainly they'd shared more than that, hadn't they?
"Scott, I-"
"Don't." He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. "Just don't."
"But-"
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Jean. We were over a long time ago." It was the truth and it hurt. "I wasn't ready to let go then." He was silent a moment before he met her eyes. "I am now." He wasn't talking about letting her go but she didn't need to know that. The last bit of light inside him flickered dangerously.
She tried to touch her mind to his, to share his thoughts. She'd always preferred that way to speaking aloud, especially when talking was difficult. The fact that he hadn't let her in his mind was more than telling.
He crossed the room and caught her hands in his. "Jean, stop." His voice was soft. "There isn't anything left to share."
"Is this about Logan?" Her voice was tight.
"No, this is about us." He rubbed his thumb over her cold hands. "Neither of us are who we used to be, Jean." He noticed that while she didn't agree with him, she didn't try to deny it either. He sighed heavily. "Life is too short." Especially for them. Every mission could be their last. That weighed heavily upon him. Another burden to bear. "I want you to be happy." As much as it hurt when he discovered she was lost to him, it was the truth. He did want her to be happy.
A bubble of ugly laughter welled up inside her and spilled over. "You think this makes me happy?" Her voice caught on a laugh or maybe it was a sob. She wasn't really sure. "You think I wanted this?"
Scott might be the leader who sacrificed everything - even himself - for the good of the cause, but deep down, he was still a man. The things Jean and Logan had done pissed him off. Oh, he fought against it, tried to rationalize it, even objectify it, but on some level he still felt jealousy and rage and hurt. Part of him was glad he was the one moving out - that this had been her room first. His scent would always linger here and every time Logan took Jean to bed, a part of him would always recognize that Scott had been there first. There were some things even the fearless leader wasn't above.
Her heated words only served to bring his own anger bubbling to the surface. For a brief moment the flame inside him burned bright with anger and hurt, but even in his anger he knew it for what it was. The last sputter of a dying light. Uncharacteristic heat colored his words. "Are you angry because I couldn't give you what you wanted... or because Logan won't?"
It was a low blow and he regret his harsh words almost before they left his lips. Almost. A small weak part of him however, gloried in the pain her saw flare briefly in her eyes. He crushed it down, a little surprised he could still take enjoyment in something so petty, but then again, he also hadn't expected to feel such hurt watching the mental foreplay between Jean and Logan in the meeting this afternoon. Even the greatest tacticians can't foresee everything.
"I thought this wasn't about Logan." Her eyes narrowed and her words were sharp.
"It's not. It's about a woman who tries to be two things and achieves neither and a man who's too tired to pretend anymore." He saw the fight leave her eyes. It was hard to argue with the truth, even when it was ugly. His voice softened. "This doesn't have to end badly, Jean." He didn't have the luxury of letting it end badly. He led the team, made decisions that put her into danger. She didn't have to want him or love him or even like him, but she did have to trust him and he couldn't afford for this to end badly. Not even if he wanted it to - and he was ashamed to admit that a small part of him wanted to hurt her as deeply as he had been hurt... but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. Even if that one was him.
He pulled her into his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to her hair. He held on tightly and breathed in her scent the way a lover would, willing himself to feel this one last time. Her arms tightened around him and he knew she was remembering as well.
They hadn't always been the way they were now.
Feeling flared to life inside him and he gloried in it, watching as the spark glowed brightly before it faded and finally winked out. He pulled away from her slowly and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. They weren't tears of sadness. They'd both finished crying those long ago. New beginnings were always hard. It was always difficult to let go of the familiar. Ten years was a long time to get used to someone.
"I'll miss you too."
Jean smiled a sadly at his words and pressed her ring into his palm, closing his fingers over the warm metal.
Her words were quiet. "I'm sorry." Sorry for needing more than you had to give. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for not being honest with myself - and with you - about what I feel for Logan.
He knew her well enough to understand what she meant even without the touch of her mind in his. "I know." He didn't accept her apology or offer one of his own. They were beyond that.
She gave his hand a squeeze and let him go. "He's not gone, you know." He looked at her intently. "The person you were before you became 'Cyclops'." She looked away for a brief moment.
"Jean-"
It was a warning and she ignored it. She'd slept beside him for nine years. She'd long ago earned the right to say her piece. She'd known the fearless leader long enough to know he wasn't fearless any more than he was clueless. And as hard as it was right now, she would give him this, whether he wanted to hear it or not.
So stubborn.
"That person - he's not gone. He's just...buried." Perhaps she'd known more all along than he'd given her credit for. Apparently they'd both played their hands close to their chest. Maybe too close. And maybe she was right, but right now the team needed Cyclops not Scott. He understood the gift of truth in her words. She wanted him to know someone still knew Scott was in there even if he could no longer acknowledge it himself.
He didn't thank her. There were no more harsh words. No accusations, no recriminations, no more apologies. There would be no more conversations with 'Scott'. They'd buried the last of him today along with the remains of their relationship. There were no more tears and no sad goodbyes. Just a fist clenched tightly on a ring of broken promises and the soft click of a door that echoed loudly in the silence.