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‘ ’ indicates thought
“ ” indicates spoken words

Late night at the Xavier Mansion,

A lone figure sits in the kitchen table, a now cold half-drunk cup of coffee lying before her.

‘Why am I even thinking about this?’ she tells herself as she caresses the still unfamiliar diamond ring on her left hand. ‘I should be in bed.’

Still she thinks, not because she loves the other…..well not as she loves the first, her fiancé. The man who has proposed to spend his whole life with her.

She thinks, because of habit, because of hate….because of lust.

Yet she hesitates. Hesitates because of her love, her fear and….

-KRRRAAKKA-BOOM-

…because of that.

‘She knows’

------

“Hey ‘Ro,” he walked to the greenhouse, having given her enough time to don her clothes after she had returned from her aerial dance.

“Hello Logan,” she smiled softly as she looked up to face him.

“Got some time,” she sensed his unease. “I gotta talk….I-I got somethin’ to tell to ya.”

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly.

Hidden in the shadows, the other woman watched as the calm azure of the sky turned darker, first becoming a darker blue and then finally a near black, grey, just as the emotional state of the usually calm weather goddess.

Its color turned from its cerulean to a multitude of colors. Red for her anger, green for her jealousy, yellow for her pain, with the overall background turning from a serene white to an ominous black.

‘He was telling her.’

-----

‘He’s told her,’ the realization had hit her like a ton of bricks.

‘What will happen now?’ she has been thinking since the first thunder boom in the sky, the first lightening flash, the first raindrop. She has been since this afternoon

And its almost midnight now, and its still raining.

‘I have to avoid seeing her,’ had been her first thought once her mind was able to comprehend the situation that was developing before her eyes.

That task had been accomplished with comparative ease, not because of any special effort on her part, but because the other woman had left on her own. She had only returned a couple of hours earlier, taking the aerial route to go to her room, thus averting the chance of any confrontation.

------

She watched as they talked.

She could and should have left, but she stayed, both due to a fear of being detected by the other woman and due to her own morbid curiosity. What would happen?

“Me”, “Jean”, “Almost four months”, were the words she had been able catch, and they had been enough. She got the gist.

She didn’t hear what the soft spoken Ororo’s reply was, but the instant darkening of the sky and the eerie glow around her ‘friend’ didn’t bode well.

However, Logan’s next words let her know that too.

“What do you mean how could I? She came to me and not the other way round.”

Again, she was unable to hear the reply to that comment, barely squelching the temptation to let her telepathic shield down and directly read their thoughts. She was afraid that given her own emotional nature, she would be caught.

“I don’t give a shit about one-eye. Its not my fault that they couldn’t…”

*SLAP*

------

‘She slapped him,’ the action still astounds her, not because Ororo lashed out for herself, but also for her and Scott. Even after what Logan had told her, she still cared enough to stop him from saying anything…. ‘She slapped him.’

It was that slap that once and for all brought out the feelings that the intensely private Storm had towards the equally if not more private Wolverine.

She hit him….she lost her temper. ‘Does Logan even know what that means?’ Jean thinks in awe. She is able to count the times that has happened….count it using just one hand.

Once again her thoughts take her back to the greenhouse.

-----

The slap echoed, stopping him from completing his sentence. His mouth hanging open both from the action and from the force behind it.

“Ororo…” he momentarily lost all fight, all temper.

“What do you want me to say Logan?” she was the one on the offensive now. Her head held high, her cerulean eyes white with power, with rage. “What do you WANT ME TO SAY?”

Instead of answer, the unshakable, unbendable Logan, merely hung his head in shame, not for his actions, but for the tears he could see in those beautiful eyes, their saline taste and smell filling the air around them.

Hiding like a voyeur, the redhead watched and heard with bated breath, waiting for the silence to end.

However, the next words she heard shook her to her very core.

“Was it….was she worth it?”

-----

The striking of the clock tells her it is midnight.

Closing her eyes, she listens to every gong, mentally steeling herself for what she is about to do.

Just as the last strike takes place, she pushes herself off the stool she has been sitting on, puts the empty mug into the sink….and starts walking…..towards his, Logan’s room.

‘What are you doing?’ a small part of her cries out. ‘You are engaged.’

‘Just one more time,’ another one tempts her.

‘No, just tell it is going to end….no more,’ an almost sane part suggests. ‘….and then go to *your* room.

Still mulling over the options, she doesn’t realize that she has reached his room and even knocked on it.

For a few seconds there is no silence from the other side, giving her the hope that maybe he is not there, maybe….

“Come in Red.”

----

“Yes,” he had answered truthfully, not lying to her. He had never lied to her. True she didn’t know about his ‘thing’ with their teammate, but that was only because she never asked about it.

“Yes?” she sounded confused. “To what?”

“Yes…to what you asked.”

“I asked two questions,” she clarified. “Was SHE worth it? Was doing it worth it?”

“Yes,” he repeated his earlier answer. “Both.”

Taking a few moments to absorb his answer and the stark honesty behind it, Ororo generated a small rain shower over freshly planted tulip bulbs.

“Why tell me?” she finally asked.

“’Cause I can’t do it any more. I don’t wanna do it any more.”

“Is that the real reason,” she asked icily. “Or is just because she is finally engaged now. You cannot have her and want a replacement…..to warm your bed. Want me….”

“NO,” the ferocity in his voice was instant. “Never. Never you. Never.”

Once again silence filled the time and space between them.

------

The room is dark, making it impossible for her to see anything except his silhouette against the rain-spattered windows, the glow and smoke of his cigar pinpointing his exact location.

“Logan…” she starts hesitantly.

“Why are you here Jeannie?” his gruff question cuts her off.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Do you wanna do it?” He doesn’t specify *what*. He doesn’t need to, both of them know what he means.

“I don’t know,” same answer as the previous question.

“Hn,” his expression doesn’t any hint about his reaction.

The shadow moves from the window and moments later, the bedside lamp is switched on.

“Sit down Jean,” finally she is able to see and hear the tiredness in his voice.

“We gotta talk.”

------

“Ororo,” he stepped towards her, only to stop as she took a step in the other direction, away from him.

“What do you want now Logan?” Her voice still cold was cracking with the slightest hint of emotions….hurt and pain.

“What I wanted earlier,” his answer was simple. “Whom I wanted earlier…whom I still want.”

At her silence, he once again started towards her. “’Ro.”

“After this,” her words stopped his progress, his hand falling to his side. “What if you aren’t wanted….aren’t forgiven?”

“I can wait,” he answered with conviction. “As long as it takes.”

“What if it never happens?” She asked with a steeled yet curious voice.

“As long as it takes.”

-----

She sits down on the study-table chair, her eyes automatically going to the duffle bag lying on the bed.

“You are leaving?” she asks with a mix of concern and relief.

“Yeah,” he nods his head and crushes the cigar stub against his hand, wincing at the momentary singe of pain shooting through his body, it effects only lasting a couple of seconds before his mutation kicks in and removes all traces of the wound.

“When will you be back?” the question is pretty routine, one that is asked whenever he leaves, either to follow up on another lead for his elusive past or just to get his head clear.

“Don’t know,” he sighs and clenches his hands and lets his claws out, almost reveling in the pain they cause when they slice through the muscles, nerves and skin.

-SNIKT-SNIKT-SNIKT-

He does it thrice, out, in and then out again.

“When I will be called back,” he finally answers and slowly lets the claws slide back in. “I can wait. I’ll wait.

“What if that doesn’t happen?” she asks the obvious question. “What is she finds someone else?”

“You really enjoying this; aren’t you?” the unflappable Wolverine lashes out for a second, only to be subdued the man.

“I don’ wanna think about it.”

-----

From her hiding place, she saw his shoulders sag in defeat as hers' squared in defiance.

As she watched, her friend turned to face the man who to public knowledge was a teammate and a friend. That is what she told herself too. That is why they hadn’t progressed in their *relationship*. She had told him that she needed time to make a decision. She had told him that she wanted them to know each other as people and then only would….could she make a choice. She had told that in the mean time they would live their lives as they had been living it before.

Then why did she hurt? Did she have the right to be hurt….feel betrayed?

Why?

She needed time to answer those questions. Time and space.

“Goodbye Logan,” those were her parting words.

Leaving him standing, alone, she walked out of the glass enclosure and took to the sky, her winds lifting her up….away to her clouds…..to her second mother. Nature.

-----

“Congrats Jean,” the use of her *real* name, and the solemnity behind it, conveys to her that he actually mean it.

With that, he grabs his bag, stands up and starts towards the door.

“Logan,” she keeps her distance. “I-I’m sorry.”

His hand stays on the doorknob as he tries to gather an appropriate answer.

“’k,” is all he says.

-----

Sitting in room, she hears him walk down the corridor, not towards the stairs that would take him down to garage, but towards the ones that lead up, to the attic….to *her* room.

She sits and listens, hearing him come back minutes later.

He doesn’t stop at the room now. He doesn’t need to….or want to.

She continues to listen, as his steps grow further, their sound fainter, until finally all that is left is silence…..silence and the patter of rain against the glass.

----

Then she hears it again, the burst of sound from the powering up of his motorcycle, the one that he created with his own hands. The one on which he had taken ‘her’ out for their ‘outings’.

Almost in time with the first thump of the engine, a renewed and louder boom of thunder shakes the very ground, threatening to shatter the windows….if not bring down the whole mansion.

She sits in silence, waiting for the sound of him to leave the mansion grounds and move out of hearing range.

She sits….and she prays.

She sits and she prays….for herself, for him, for her and for the man sleeping in her bed.

She sits and she prays.

Note: As you can see, this one is drawing towards it end. Hopefully next chapter should be from *HER* P.O.V. Its time that we heard her side of the story too. Dontcha think?

BTW...don't forget to review!!





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