Soap Gets In Your Claws

Chapter Six: Bringing It All Back Home

Xavier Institute, later that night.

I: Jean

Their moment of glorious unashamed happiness passed, quickly.

They were both pretty quiet on the way home and when Jean took a peek into Logan’s surface thoughts, she saw nothing but shame and guilt.

“I feel the same way, Logan. What are we going to do?”

“Well, darlin’, I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do.”

March right in there and tell Scott to join the 20th century, already in progress?

Explain to him that there’s no shame in my seeing other people?

“We’re gonna forget this ever happened.”

Oh, that’s right.

Logan’s stuck in the 19th century, too.

“But you have, what, three girlfriends?”

“Yeah. And they all know about each other. You an’ me both know Cyke wouldn’t go for that. You ready to leave him for me?”

“Well, Logan…I…I…”

“Then we better forget this ever happened, darlin’.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Logan didn’t have an answer for that.

Jean was feeling pretty guilty and ashamed; too, so much so that she took a shower in the gym, and put on the tee shirt and panties she kept in the gym, and stretched out on one of the mats, like usual.

Eventually, though, she went to face the music.

Scott was just sitting on the end of the bed, in his boxers, with his face in his hands.

He wasn’t crying; he seemed far too despairing to cry.

How could I do that to him?

Well, he did drive me to it.

“Scott…I…I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s not all your fault. I told you to go and do it. And I’m not angry with you, Jean. Or with Logan. I still love you. I’m just, well, I guess I’m just not much of a man for you, anymore. I just…I can’t. I just…I don’t have feelings like that, anymore. I haven’t for, well, you know, months now. I’m just under so much pressure. I feel like the weight of the world is crushing me. In an indirect way, I’m responsible for the lives of every mutant on the planet. Millions of innocent people. Normal people, Jean, they look at me as a representative of mutantkind. If I make a mistake, if I fall from grace in their eyes, millions of people will suffer. Some of them will die. And that’s not even counting my responsibilities as the battle leader of the X-Men. As one of the protectors of this whole school. There’s babies here, Jean, little babies nine years old. Sentinels don’t care if you’re only nine years old. If I make one false move, if I lead us in the wrong direction, I’ll be sitting here at this desk, and by the time I hear the screams, I’ll be too late. Like I said, I’m not mad at you. Or at Logan. I know he won’t do anything to hurt you. Or to embarrass the Institute or the X-Men. I won’t say a word. I’ve…I’ve got no right to.”

Jean felt horrible.

She was a telepath, how could she have been so blind to Scott’s suffering?

He was keeping it from her, that’s how.

How had he learned to block her from his mind?

Logan.

His good buddy, Logan.

“Scott, please…let me see how you feel.”

“You don’t want to know, Jean.”

“Just for a moment, Scott.”

She could feel the wall between them move a little, and then, hesitantly, he let her in.

Jean was enveloped in Scott’s misery like a blanket made of lead.

It weighed her down, extinguished all the light and warmth from the world. His sorrow sucked the life out of her bones and her muscles and she sank into the nearest chair. She felt cold and remote in his grey, monochrome despair, bled white against the day.

“Oh my God, Scott! How long have you felt this way?”

“It feels like forever.” He said.

It took a great effort for Jean to extricate herself from Scott’s melancholy and despair.

She was at a loss for what to do, how to help him.

Jean stood behind him, rubbing his neck and his back and Scott absently shrugged her off and patted one of her hands.

“Scott, honey, if you want to continue to be our leader, and protect our students, and be an example to normal humans and mutants, alike, you’re going to have to dig yourself out of this pit of despair you’ve fallen into. Have you talked to Charles about it?”

“Not really. I haven’t talked to anyone about it.”

“You should. Tomorrow, we should all go talk to Charles.”

“That’s a good idea. But, tonight, I have a job to do. I better go talk to Logan.”

She didn’t know it, but he had her notebook with him.

II: Scott

Logan hadn’t even bothered to lock his door.

When Scott came in, he was packing what little belongings he had.

“What are you doing, Logan? You can’t leave! This is getting ridiculous. Sit down. We have to talk.”

“I can’t, Cyke. I gotta go. I’m takin’ Mel with me, if she’ll have me. We won’t be back.”

“Sit down, Wolverine. That’s an order. Don’t make me take off these glasses.”

Logan sat down.

“Go ahead. Blast me. That’s what I deserve. I’m a low down dirty son of a bitch. Blast my head off. I feel like sawin’ it off, myself.”

“It’s not your fault. Look, before you say anything, I know what happened. Was it…planned?”

Logan looked down at his hands.

“No. Hell, no!”

“Well, maybe it should be?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Scott?”

“I mean, I’m a really busy man. I don’t have a lot of…time for Jean. If you could…take her out…every…every once in awhile…and…and…no, no, I couldn’t live with that. I just couldn’t!”

Scott did not want to break down in front of Logan, but he had the feeling he was going to.

“Jesus Christ, Cyke, don’t talk like that! I couldn’t do somethin’ like that to you! No. No way. This is over. As far as I’m concerned, it never shoulda happened. Hell, I got no excuse. So what if she wore different clothes and she acted different, I…shit, do you want me to go? I’ll go. Like I said, I’ll go and I’ll take Mel with me, we’ll go to Howlett, and never come back.”

Scott looked at his friend and teammate, and saw the pained expression of shame and regret on his face.

“No, Logan, I do not want you to go. I don’t think Charles, or anyone else here, would, either.”

“I’m sorry, Scott. I really am. I’m sick about what I done. Sick in my heart. In my soul. I betrayed you, and disrespected you, and dishonoured myself. But, I swear, I just couldn’t help it. I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I just couldn’t help it. I tried. I did. But...”

Logan’s strangled voice cut off, abruptly.

“Jesus, you make it sound like it was rape. When a woman gets dressed up like a hooker on a Saturday night and asks you to take her to the drive-in, in her car, that’s about as far from rape as you can get.” Scott said.

“Nothin’ like that happened. I wantcha to know, I didn’t…well, I didn’t actually, uh, do it to her, yunno.”

Scott realised that was as close as Logan got to delicate.

The man was devastated.

He was beginning to see who the guilty party in all this was.

And he had reason to know those rumours he heard about Jean shopping around for a man in a mask, any man in a mask, were true.

I forgive you, because it wasn’t your fault, you poor bastard. Jean played you like a violin. She’s a telepath, and you’ve been carrying a torch for her for years, and she’s been parading around you in next to nothing? You never had a chance.

“It wasn’t all your fault. It was Jean’s fault, hell it was my fault, too. She shouldn’t have brought you into our…private problems, but, well, better you than, I don’t know, Tony Stark. Pete Parker. Just about anybody with a mask and a dick.”

Logan looked hurt.

“Ya think that’s the way it was?”

The poor bastard.

He thinks she wanted him, and him alone.

“I know. You will too, after you read this.”

He handed the notebook at Logan.

Jean’s notebook, in which she laid out her careful, cool, methodical plans to take a lover.

Wolverine paged through it, and as he did, he sat down heavily on his bed.

“I can’t believe it.”

Scott sat down beside him.

“That’s the part that gets me, Logan. That’s what hurts. It could have been me. It could have been you. It could have been the goddamn Green Lantern. Anybody.”

“Anybody with a mask and a dick.” Logan repeated

“Anybody. I hate to say it, but, she took advantage of you. She knew you were carrying a torch for her, hell, everybody knows, and she took advantage of you.”

Logan threw the notebook on the floor.

“Eddie could see through her. Tony didn’t give a shit. But me, I fell for it. The Ol’ Canucklehead. The ol’ Canucklehead took the bait. How could she do this to me?”

“That’s what I been asking myself, all night.”

“Well, I swear to ya, Cyke, I swear, it’ll never happen again. You can kill me if it does, I’ll borrow Napalm’s adamantium machete, and you can slice my head right off and throw it so far away my body will never find it. I mean it.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Logan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel terrible. What I’d really like to do is get creative with mirrors and take off my glasses and kill myself. How do you feel about a suicide pact, m’man?”

“You blast me and I claw you? If I thought it would kill me, I’d be up for it.”

“It’s just not fair, is it? Well, seeing as how that’s out of the question, I think I’m going to go get blind stinking drunk, and try and forget this ever happened. You wanna drive? When I pass out, you can bring me back here.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead on, Fearless Leader. Let’s get annihilated.”

“Can you get annihilated, Logan?”

“It ain’t easy. But, I’m gonna try real hard.”

“You got the money for that?”

“Not really.”

“Well, let’s do it on Jean. I’ll know where she keeps her purse. She can afford it. Her father’s loaded.”

Thruway Tavern, a few (zillion) drinks later

III: Logan

Logan made good on his threat to get annihilated.

After a gallon jug of grain alcohol followed by a gallon jug of Yukon Jack and more beers than he could count, Wolverine was completely trashed.

He had his spinning head down on the bar, contemplating whether or not it would be necessary for him to puke his guts out.

When the feeling passed, Logan called to the bartender for another gallon jug of Yukon Jack.

Cyclops had done quite a bit of drinking, himself.

He had already puked his guts out, twice, and he was still tossing back drinks like a bum living under a bridge in the Bowery.

“You know what, Wolvie? This is her fault. That red-haired She-Devil. She did this to us. On purpose.”

“You gotta point, Cyke. Baitin’ me like that. For months. I’m only human, right?”

“Right! I mean, who knows who else she’s been showin her ass to an’ shakin’ her tits at? Remember when she practically got naked on that mission with the Avengers?”

“Yeah. What the fuck was that all about?”

“It was part of her plan. I’m havin’ trouble, Logan. Lotsa goddamn trouble. Woman’s supposta helpya whenya in trouble. And what does Jean do? She starts lookin’ for another man.”

“Can’t believe it. Never thought Red was that kinda girl.”

“Me neither. Hey, bartender! One more gin and tonic down…”

CRASH!

Scott slid off his barstool and fell to the ground.

“Well, I guess that’s it for us.”

Careful to keep his glasses on, Logan staggered to his feet, picked Scott up and carried him out to his car.

He had quite a bit of difficulty driving back to the X-Mansion, as he was seeing double, and after carrying Cyke up the stairs, the world began to look very quavery.

“Yeah, I think it’s time for me to puke my guts out.” Logan said to nobody in particular.

He put Scott to bed, lying on his side, so if he threw up while he was sleeping he wouldn’t choke to death, paid a visit to the altar of the porcelain god, and, after washing off his face, she staggered back into his bedroom, and passed out beside Cyclops on the bed.

***

Jean didn’t sleep all night, when she heard the commotion in Logan’s room, she feared the worst.

He had left the door open, and he and Scott were both drunk and unconscious on the bed.

Dead drunk.

Them just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, she could hear Professor X summoning her.

And Scott.

And Logan.

“Great. Charles wants to see us.”

Jean picked up Logan’s phone and dialled an extension.

“Good morning, Hank. Oh, you’re not? Well, wake him up, then, lady, it’s an emergency…Don’t snarl at me, Hank, I know it’s only seven. Is that the purple one, with the wings…I thought so. Anyway, I’ve got a huge problem. Charles wants to see Logan and Scott and I, and they webt out and got blind, stinking drunk last night. Even Logan’s drunk. I can’t wake him. Is there anything you can do to help...thanks, Hank. I owe you one.”

Beast arrived, in his bathrobe, about fifteen minutes later, with two stretchers from the Infirmary.

“I’ll take them both down. Logan should wake up soon. God only knows how much he had to drink to be this far gone. As for Scott, I'll check him for alcohol poisoning, although he doesn’t seem that drunk. I’ll get them on their feet, and cleaned up. You stall Charles. Tell him…well, think of something.”

“I will.”

II: Charles

Professor Xavier knew that when you got a large group of people who were over the age of 18 living and working in close quarters together that their lives could take on a certain soap opera kind of quality.

Commonly, he kept himself out of his X-Men’s personal affairs; they were all adults and what they did with their free time and each other was their business.

Of late, however it had become impossible for him to ignore the changes in personality of three of his most trusted X-Men.

Scott had not been himself for quite some time.

He put up a good front, and he was working hard, harder than he should have been, but it wasn’t to his advantage that Logan had taught him how to construct psychic blocks in his mind. Scott had used the information to wall himself away from his comrades, and himself, and he was now lost inside himself, in some terrible dark place where Charles feared that soon, no one would be able to reach him.

Then, to make things worse, Jean decided that, at the age of thirty, she was going to have the naughty adolescence she never had, probably as a direct result of Scott’s depression, which he was skilfully hiding, even from her.

Some women had a natural talent for naughty. Mel Reinhardt came to mind, but she was a Nymph, so that made sense.

And some women were, just, well, the earthy type; they had the sexual instincts of your average longshoreman or lumberjack and they made no bones about it.

Liv Napier came to mind on that.

But Jean was neither kind of woman; and having neither the air of a bad girl or the cheerful lust of a grown-up tomboy, she just embarrassed herself.

Terribly.

She began dressing like one of her students, and, sometimes, like those unfortunate and obsessive young ladies who camped outside the front gates, in all seasons and all weathers.

She began, for lack of a better word, vamping every male in sight.

The first not of concern came from Henry; he was quite blunt about it.

Jean’s having some kind of premature midlife crisis and it’s distracting to everyone in the school who isn’t a woman. Somebody has to talk to her. Should I?

Charles told him to wait, and see what happened.

The next voice of concern was Kurt’s.

He was often up late, watching black and white movies in the TV room, and Jean seemed to always be there.

He had looked at her in the dark a few times and he noticed she appeared to be crying.

More disturbingly, he had a report from Peter, who had a habit of working out in the gym before he went to bed that he had to stop doing it, because Jean was sleeping in the gym, on an exercise mat.

Most recently, he had a very calm and matter of fact visit from Logan, who requested that Charles install an adamantium padlock on his door and bars of the same on his window, and a series of telepathic restraints, so that he would be unable to leave his rooms at night after he went to bed until someone, preferably Charles himself, came to let him out in the morning.

“Why, Logan? You’re not an animal. Why should you be caged like one?”

“It’s Jeannie, Charlie. I can’t take it, anymore. She’s torturin’ me. I’m in Hell. Pretty soon I’m just gonna decide, fuck it, and I’m gonna go an’ do somethin’ that I’m gonna regret, later.”

Professor X was horrified.

“Logan, surely you’re not talking about…rape!”

“No. I ain’t. Not at all. I’d be welcomed with open arms. Not to mention open legs. You see my problem, Charlie? You see?”

Xavier did see his problem.

And Scott’s.

And Jean’s.

Their problems were all related, and if something wasn’t done to change the course of events, well the result might be something that threatened everything that they had all worked so hard to build.

These were not the kind of topics that Charles Xavier was comfortable about.

He was not a prude and he had not chosen a life of chastity, but he had never been what he thought of as sexually extroverted; these were topics which he did not want to discuss and was out of his depth in, being, well, a little old-fashioned about the subject.

Erik, on the other hand, had always been something of a ladies man. The Sexual Revolution had not caught him off guard; it was just the rest of the world catching up to what he considered business as usual.

Charles was always loath to ask Erik for advice; although he never threw it in Erik’s face when Erik asked him for advice, Erik never missed and opportunity to say I told you so.

But, to his surprise, this time Erik was not at all snide.

“Thank you for having the good taste not to laugh at me, Erik.”

“Not at all, Charles, not at all. I knew you would get yourself into this kind of trouble without me. You’re a very cerebral man, and the one thing you don’t understand is that most of the rest of the world thinks with the little head, not the big one. You can’t just throw a large group of people between the ages of 18 and 34 together, and then add that horny old devil Wolverine into the mix and expect sex to not rear its ugly purple head. Now, if I were you, I would call all three of them into my office and explain to them that I, and they, have a lot of work to do for mutantkind, so I would appreciate it if they could act more like adults and less like the teenagers they are supposed to be looking after. You see, Charles, like I’ve been telling you for a few decades, sex is just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. And if your bright boy can’t keep his hot red-headed girlfriend happy, then he’s going to have to shut up and take it like a man that she’s going to look for it elsewhere. Now, if elsewhere is down the hall in Logan’s bedroom, then he should be goddamned happy that she’s picked on somebody within the same organisation who is old enough and wise enough not to kiss and tell.”

“I was thinking that was the solution to the problem, but hoping it wasn’t. I’m not sure how Scott will react to that.”

“Well, you can’t have it both ways, can you, Charles? You’re either a man or you’re not. What’s the matter with the boy?”

“I really don’t know, Erik. Depression has that effect one some men.”

“Depression! Ridiculous! You’re in a wheelchair, Charles. Are you that depressed?”

Professor Xavier cleared his throat, loudly.

“Well, I, I ah, can’t say, ah…”

“Please, Charles. Everybody knows about you and Dr. MacTaggart.”

“Erik, I would appreciate it if you did not drag Moira into this.” Xavier protested, stiffly,

“I was just making a point, Charles! That boy’s problem is he has no balls. But, if he knows there’s another man, and that man is Wolverine, right down the hallway, showing his woman a good time, he might grow a pair. You could take him to a psychiatrist. Or, better yet, lock him up in a room for the night with your adjunct professor, Trivelino Napier. That girl could make a dead man come. She’ll straighten him out.”

Professor X laughed, in spite of himself.

“I believe she could. Well, at any rate, I think I should go now, Erik.”

“Good luck, Charles. And please, don’t be pedantic.”

“I’ll try.”

Professor Xavier hung up the phone.

He poured himself a glass of water, drank it, and then he mentally summoned Jean, Scott and Logan to his office.

It was early in the morning, but, no time like the present.

Erik was right about one thing; this had to be nipped on the bud.

He heard them all before he saw them, arguing outside his door.

“...just like men to blame it all on the woman! It’s all her fault! So you found my notebook? So I planned it? So what?”

“It is all your fault! Everything was fine before you had to start acting like a whore!”

“Hey! Watch it with that shit, Cyke!”

“Now you’re on her side? How dumb can you get? What are you, pussified, already?”

“You mean cunt-struck, Scott. You can’t swear for shit.”

“See, Logan? Did you here what she just said? How’s this for swearing, Jean? You’re a godddamn whore!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d say you were a dick, but you don’t have one, you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch!”

SNIKT!

“Don’t you raise your hand to her!”

“Don’t be so chivalrous, Logan! She deserves it!”

“You put your hand on me, Scott Summers, and I swear, I’ll make you shove your fist right up your ass! And put your claws away, Logan! This isn’t your fight!”

“Yeah? Well if it isn’t my fight, how come you dragged me into it? So you planned it? So what? So, I coulda been anybody! It didn’t mean shit to you! You know how that makes me feel?”

“Is that what he told you! Scott, you asshole! You lousy cheap prick!”

WHAM!

THUD!

Charles wheeled over to his door, hurriedly, and found Scott lying on the floor and Jean standing over him, with her fist still clenched.

Snikt!

“You better not be thinkin’ about hittin’ her back.” Logan told him.

“That’s enough! Get in this office at once and quit acting like children!” Xavier rebuked them.

Looking sheepish, they all sat in front of his desk as he got behind it.

“I don’t mind your hat on my desk, Logan, but feet on the floor, please. As you know, I usually do not presume to interfere with the personal lives of my X-Men. After all, you are all adults, living in close quarters together, and, as our good friend Trivelino likes to remind us, it’s only biology. This time, however, I am going to have to break my rule, because the ways in which the three of you are spiralling out of control could affect everything that we have struggled to build. And after that childish argument in the main hallway, I don’t think any of you are in a position to argue with me. Do I have your attention, now?”

Three pairs of eyes were glued to him.

“My X-Men, I know that I don’t have to tell you that love, and, if you’ll pardon the topic, sex, are powerful forces. Powerful and strange. They can exert forces on our lives that can be extremely destructive. I can understand what each of you is going through, and I empathize. But you cannot continue to allow your personal problems to weight so heavily on your professional lives. You are all adults, and surely you have learned the lesson that things are not always what they are supposed to be. If you have not, this would be an excellent time to do so. Without embarrassing anyone by naming names, I suggest the three of you come to an arrangement by which the problem at issue is quietly and discreetly resolved. Now, as I’ve said, we are all adults here, and as adults, we know that…sometimes these things happen. They don’t have to be seen as a great betrayal, only as, perhaps, a mistake. What has happened is no one’s fault. No one is wrong, no one should feel guilty. Am I making myself clear enough?”

Logan looked at his hands.

Jean looked at Charles’ desk.

But Scott was looking right at him.

His face was twisting up, he was squirming in his chair, like some titanic force within him was about to burst forth.

Then, Logan stood up.

“Well, I’ll tellya what, Charlie. You can slice this pie any way you wanna, but way back a long time before any of you were born, I sat on the porch of my mean ol’ Pa’s cabin, an’ he told me a good bit about what a man should and shouldn’t do, and I what I’ve done is somethin’ a man should never do. I think it was wrong, all wrong and I’m sorry to both of you for it, Cyke and Jeannie. The last thing I want is for somethin’ like this ta happen, again. So, I think what I need is to get in the wind, just for a little while. I been promisin’ Mel I’d take her home for a visit. I got word her Daddy might have turned up back at his old job, and she’s pretty excited that he might still be alive. I been waitin’ for the end of the semester, but, seein’ as how I’m the spare prick at the wedding, here, I think I can just have Combat finals a month early and take off with Mel for awhile. If that’s alright with you.”

“You’d do that Logan? Really? But this, this is your…” Scott’s voice trailed off.

“M’big chance? Shit, Cyke, if this is the only way I get my big chance, I don’t fuckin’ want it. You think I can build my happiness over your misery? Fuck no! I can’t be a decent man, an’ live by the code of honour I swore by, or eve the code of honor my Pa taught me, I might as well go live in the woods and be an animal. Now, if you and Jeannie decide to be civilised about this, considerin’ you ain’t married an’ that monogamy’s about as natural to a person as paintin’ themselves blue would be, maybe we can sit down an’ have that little heart-to heart Charlie was talkin’ about. You an’ me an’ Jeannie and Mel. But, you two gotta settle things between the both of you before you drag the ol’ Canucklehead any further into it. Whatever you decide. You mind my gettin’ in the wind, Charlie?”

“Of course not, Logan.”

“Good. Well, I guess I’ll go tell Mel to get packed, call up Napalm, tell her I’ll be away for a little while. Month or so. Oh, and if Tony Stark calls to thank me because he inherited Wednesday for a little while, tell him I said you’re welcome, but don’t get used to it, bub. Hope ya feel better, Cyke.”

Logan took his hat off the desk, put it on, and walked over to the door.

“You’re leaving me? Just like that?” Jean demanded.

“Hell, Jeannie, I read your notebook. You may have fooled me, but that don’t mean I’m your fool. I’ll be seein’ you. I gotta go see my Pa, an’ take my woman home to look for her Daddy.”

He turned around, squared his shoulders, moved his hat back, and strode out the door.

“You know what, Professor? That might just be the most honourable thing I’ve even seen a man do. You’re certainly not worth it.” Scott said, finishing with a shot at Jean.

“You know what, Scott? Fuck you! That’s what.”

“Listen to her! I’m telling you, Charles, she’s lost her mind!”

“At least that’s all I’ve lost!”

“What are you saying? I’m half a man?”

“No. You’re not a man at all!”

“I’ll show you!”

“I wish you would!”

Professor Xavier was completely out of his depth.

He resorted to focusing his concentration on both of them, and directed one forceful command into their minds.

STOP THIS AT ONCE!

Jean and Scott both fell back into their chairs, and Scott’s nose began to bleed.

Charles handed him a tissue.

“I am sorry about that, but all this bickering is useless. Scott, you are going to have to do something about your depression. Perhaps you and I can talk about it for a little while, every day. And you are also going to decrease your workload and spend at least three hours every day doing nothing in particular.”

“I could try that.” Scott admitted.

“And Jean, I know you’ve been acting the way you have because of Scott’s behaviour, but you really must control yourself. Scott is not a well man. He is going to need your help, and your patience. However, if you feel that you two need to…see other people during this process, that’s for you to decide. Like adults. Without shouting.”

“Charles, I want to help Scott. I don’t want to go out and get crazy and have a second adolescence. Despite what he thinks, I’m not interested in every man in the world with a mask. I tried for months to get through to him. But he just shuts me out. Completely. Sometimes he won’t say more than five sentences to me for days on end.”

“Alright. Fine. I’m not shouting. I loved you, Jean Grey. I wanted to marry you. I took you back after you went away to college and you had some other man. And if I thought you really gave a damn about poor Logan, I wouldn’t hesitate about taking you back, now. But I read your words, in your notebook, in your handwriting, and they showed me a cold, unfeeling, mercenary woman willing to do anything to get what she wanted. You say that’s not the way it is? I’m with Logan. You’re going to have to prove it to me.” Scott told her.

“Will you give me a chance, Scott?” Jean asked

“I’m willing to try.” Cyclops replied.

“Well then, let’s leave it at that, for today. Now, you both look very tired. Why don’t you go back to your rooms, and get some sleep. After all, it is Saturday.” Charles suggested.

Scott and Jean left his office together, without shouting, which was, considering, a great success.

And as for Logan, he was quite right to remove himself from the equation; he only stood to cause further pain for Jean and Scott, and garner further pain for himself.

The Professor’s phone rang.

It was Erik, wanting to know what happened.

Charles told him, admitting his optimism.

“Charles, Charles, Charles, you’re such a Victorian. Your fair-haired boy and that redhead will get back together for awhile, and everything will be just ducky until Logan gets back, and then, as soon as things go awry, she’ll be rushing back to wild, wild Wolverine. But, the thing about Little Miss Jean is, she’s the kind of woman who only wants a man like Logan around when it suits her. Which is for about an hour, preferably after midnight. So she’ll be running back to her red-eyed lover boy, again. And that’s when the real showdown will happen. Now, you throw a little of that Mel Reinhardt into the mix, and, don’t forget, a touch of Napalm. If those two get to thinking that Little Miss Jean is doing anything to harm their Logan, look out. There will be blood, then, Charles, and I don’t mean that, metaphorically. Talk to your fair-haired boy, Charles. Convince him an open relationship is a good thing. Remind him he’s only been with one woman in his life. Or else, as they say, the whole shithouse is going to go up in flames.”

“How would I convince Scott of such a thing?”

“Put him in Napalm’s path. Ultraviolence is only one of the things she does best. She’ll think it’s a lark, ravishing the poor, innocent little lamb. She’ll make a man of him, he’ll realise that monogamy is for morons, and then Miss Jeannie can be doubly fucked and trebly happy, and Cyclops and Wolverine can have a few beers and laugh about their girlfriend. Everybody’s happy. The End.”

Charles was actually rather hoping that things didn’t come to that.

III: Logan

Logan made it into his rooms, fell back into his bed, and slipped into a deep sleep of stupor and despair.

He woke up when he heard noises in his room, but it was just Mel, and he didn’t want to be awake, so he went back to sleep.

Finally, though, he could sleep no longer.

It was terrible, the horrible suffocating feeling of being eaten alive by the ferocious, thermonuclear force of his own uncontrollable emotions.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, trying to regain control until it began to fade in its white hot intensity, and he was aware, again, of who he was and where he was, of the tears on his eyes and the ache in his balls.

As he was fond of observing, he and pain were old friends, but this kind of pain, it was unbearable.

There wasn’t enough booze in the world to chase it away, not enough tears left in him to cry it out; he felt old and bitter and sick, sick in his soul, or what was left of it.

Then, something happened.

A miracle.

It was a sponge that soaked up his agony, a warm blanket that protected him from the chill of his bitterness, a soothing balm slathered over the bleeding wounds in his tattered soul.

It could only be one thing.

He turned over, blindly, rolling into the soothing arms of the woman who had laid down beside him on the bed.

“So, did I ever tell you that I’m learning how to use my powers for good? I figure it’s safe for me to practise on you.”

“Gimme all you got, Mel. I need it.”

“What’s the matter, baby? I ain’t had to clean up a mess like that since Gypsy came back to out pad drunk from his bombardier reunion party. What have they done to you, now?”

“We gotta get in the wind, Mel. Now. We’ll take your bus and go up to Howlett. Find out if Fritzy really is alive. Go see the old man. Go home. Just for a little while.” He told her.

“Is that OK with Charlie, or are we buggin’ outa here for good?”

“Ya mean if I said we was goin’ for good, you’d go?”

“Well, sure. I ride with you. Where you go, I go.”

“That’s good ta know, Mel. It’s OK with Charlie.”

“Did the right thing, huh? You were a good boy and did the right thing, the honourable thing, an’ now you feel like sawin’ off your own head?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it was ever your powers that made me want to saw off my own head, Mel. I think it was Jeannie all along. You’re my woman, and nothin’ about me an’ Jeannie could change that, an’ I don’t want it to, but that woman, she’s in my blood.”

“Not to be too nosy, but, why? I mean I know Jean’s your friend, but, baby, she’s never gonna feel the way about you that you feel about her. Even if she gets ol’ Cyke to give her the okee-dokee to ball the shit outa you, guilt free, she’s head over heels in love with Mr. Dry White Toast, and that’s the way it is. Now, the way I see it, the last thing a cat like you needs, is a chick like that, because you may be a lot of things but a Square John ain’t one of them. For one thing, she isn’t even the one who’s in your blood. That would be Napalm, and if she knew that Jean stomped all over your heart like this, she’d be over there tearing hers out of her chest. It’s blood between you and Napalm, yunno? And you got me, too. I love you.”

Logan opened his eyes and sat up with a start.

It made him dizzy, but he didn’t care.

“You do, Mel? What the hell for?”

“You didn’t know that? Logan, you’re the only man I ever met besides Gypsy who I been serious about. And I got no more future with Gypsy than you do with Jean. I can’t have Gypsy, an’ you can’t have Jean, but we got something together, you an’ me. We grew outa the same snow, and we’ve shared the same kinda crazy outlaw destiny. An’ I meant it when I said I don’t care if I can’t ever touch another man, I’m happy with you. I had lotsa guys. Fuck them. You’ve made me forget what they even look like. You’re my old man. Sure I love you. Who the hell else am I gonna love? I mean, look, any other guy, my powers would kill him. But, as long as I keep them under control, not only don’t they bother you, I can use ‘em to help you. And for most women, you’d be a lot more than they can handle. Not me. It’s like what Napalm says. When you’re outcast among outcasts and a freak among freaks, you gotta stick together. Like those last two Cheerios at the bottom of the bowl. That’s you an me.”

“You know, Mel, I told Jeannie that I was all the man you had and you were my woman an’ I wanted ta stick with you. I ain’t sorry I did. You’re the only girl I ever met I ever though about takin’ home to my Pa.”

“Hell, Logan, you got to call that love. Now, c’mon, we’re wastin’ time we could be on the road. You get your shit together and I’ll get mine. I guess you gotta call Napalm, too, so I’ll load the bikes up in the rack behind the van, and we’ll get the fuck outa here. Let Queen Jean an’ her Plastic Fantastic Lover figure their shit out. You and me are gonna go home, and see Fritzy and Old Black Tom, I know they’re both there waitin’, I can feel it in my bones. And we’re gonna have a real sweet time, goin, baby. I’m not gonna give you room to think about Jean Grey. The only thing you’re gonna be thinkin about is when I’m gonna have mercy on your ass, and let you sleep through a night, and that’s gonna be when Hell freezes over.”

Logan smiled, in spite of himself.

“You’re quite a woman, Yukon Mel.”

“Shit, Logan, you’re a helluva man. Lemme give you another belt of that ol’ time healin’, an’ I think you’ll be on your feet, again. How much did you have to drink?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, darlin’. Jesus, before we get goin, I’m gonna go out to the pond in the woods, and dunk myself in the cold water. I don’t smell so good.”

“Sounds like fun. Let’s get goin’.”

“Mel?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“She mad a plan out, in a notebook. It coulda been anybody. Anybody at all.”

“I don’t know about that, Logan. If I was Jean, I woulda made a plan out, so I didn’t get caught and have my reputation as Miss Goody Two-Shoes ruined. A chick like Jean, her reputation means a lot to her. Sure, she mighta taken anybody who she thought would do the job well and keep his mouth shut, but I’ll bet she’d rather have you.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. But I’ll tell you what else I really think, and I’ll tell it to you straight. That don’t change shit between her and Cyke, and you’ll always be the odd man out.”

“I know. I knew that when I did it.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, baby. Like Napalm, always says, it’s just biology. C’mon. Let’s go take that swim. And get the fuck outa here before the shit hits the fan.”

IV: Jean

Jean was in her office, correcting some papers, when Logan walked in.

“I just wanted ta say goodbye before I left.”

“Are you sure you’re coming back?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“You know, Logan, I’d like to be able to say I’m sorry about what we did, and that I never wanted it to happen again, but that would be lying.”

“Well, Jeannie, darlin’, you know I love you, an’ I always will, but goddamnit, I am sorry about what we done, and I’m not gonna let it ever happen again. I know you love me, but not the way I love you. Cyke, he’s the one you love. I’m not about to get in the middle of that. For another, I got Mel to think of. I’m all the man she’s got in the world, and she’s my woman, an’ she means a lot to me. More’n I like to admit. Sure, I don’t think it’d bother her, me puttin’ your name on my dance card, but if I was with you there wouldn’t be much room in m’life for her, and not only ain’t that right, it ain’t what I want. I got Wednesdays with Napalm, and th’ rest of the week with Mel, an’ you got Cyke, an’ that’s the way it’s gonna stay, because that’s the only thing that’s right. For all of us.”

Jean had a funny feeling that he was right.

“I thought you’d say that. Well, I hope you and Mel have a good trip. And I hope she finds her father. Don’t be a stranger, you know Charles will worry if you never call. And so will I. After all, you’re still my friend.”

“Well, that ain’t likely to change. Seeya in a coupla months, Jeannie.”

“Alright, Logan.”

He left, closing the door behind him.

Jean put her pen down, and went back to her bedroom, to throw herself on the bed and cry, but Scott was already sitting on the end of the bed in his underwear with his head in his hands.

Oh, what the hell?

“Are you crying because Logan’s leaving you flat?” he finally asked her.

“No. I’m crying because, between the two of us, in the past few months we’ve done everything we can to ruin our lives, our happiness, our relationship, and our friendship. And despite what kind of happy faces we put on for Charles, I don’t know if we can ever fix things.” She told him, between sobs.

“I don’t know either, Jean. And I think that depresses me the most.”

Jean went on crying, until she had cried herself out, and Scott continued to sit on the edge of the bed, brooding.

He wanted to comfort her; but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

After she cried herself to sleep, even though it was the middle of the day, Scott lay down beside her, and went to sleep, too.

***

Ring.

Ring.

Riiiiiiing.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiinggggg!

Blessed silence.

But no!

A soft knock on his bedroom door.

“Mr. Stark?”

“For the love of God, Pepper, I’ve been awake for 48 hours and asleep for two! My suit is crushed like a beer can on a frat boy’s skull, and I feel like I’ve been tied in a sack and beaten with croquet mallets before being stuffed in a barrel full of rocks and rolled down a hill! Can’t you take a message!”

“It’s Miss Napier, sir. Something about Wolverine going on vacation, and Wednesdays, starting today, being freed up.”

Tony lunged for the phone on the night table.

“Thank you, Pepper.”

“I’ll just go and hang up now.”

“Hello, Tony? I can call back later if you’re fucked up.”

“I am extremely fucked up. But I will also be fucked up later. You might be just the cure for what ails me, Naplam. Yes, I am free today. And the next Wednesday. In fact, I am free on as many Wednesdays as there are in Logan’s vacation.”

“Good. And this would probably be a good time for us to start work on this ESP hypothesis you’ve come up with. It might just tie in to my private research with Jon.”

“Wait. I get your body, and your mind?”

“They tend to be a package deal.”

Tony Stark leaped out of bed.

“Well, then we have to get started! Right away. I’ll meet you at the Avengers Mansion in an hour. Can you be there?”

“Sure I can. See you soon.”

“Oh, and Napalm?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t wear anything complicated. I hope you like it in the morning.”

“You know me, Tony. I like it all the time.”

After Tony hung up the phone, he threw open the drapes in his bedroom with a flourish and let the glorious sunshine in.

What a beautiful morning!

Then, he strode across his bedroom and opened the doors wide, stretching out his arms and then, briefly, pounded his fists against his chest.

“Tony! You’re naked!”

“Yes, Pepper, I know. Sorry to alarm you, but it is first thing in the morning. I’m going to go take a shower, and then I’m going to smack my dick with a hammer so I can fit it in my pants. Then I’m going to get dressed and have Napalm for breakfast. Also, breakfast with Napalm. I’ll be back in a few hours. Go down into the bunker and turn on the utilities. We have so much to do and so little time!”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

He hurried down the hallway to the bathroom, went in, and then stuck his head out the door.

“Did what I just said offend you?”

“No, Mr. Stark.”

“Good.”

Pepper heard the shower come on, and then she heard Tony singing a Beatles tune, happily, and right on key, in his throaty baritone.

Happiness Is a Warm Gun.

Strangely appropriate.

She laid his clothes out for him on his bed, and just after she was done, he came back into the bedroom in his robe.

“Now you’re my valet, too, Pepper? You know me too well. This is exactly the suit I was going to wear.”

“Tony, I don’t mean to pry-“

“-that never stopped you before-“

“-but, your appointment book has Jean Grey’s name written in it in red pen, and crossed out. I know what women’s names in red ink in your appointment book, means. Don’t you think that would be a bad idea?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Then why were you going to do it?”

“Chivalry.”

“Chivalry?! How is sleeping with Cyclops’ longtime girlfriend behind his back, and even worse, making an appointment to do it, chivalrous?”

“She was the damsel in distress, Pepper. What kind of man would I have been to turn her away, in her hour of need?”

Pepper rolled her eyes.

“It’s not the fact that you have the sexual morality of an alley cat that gets me, Tony. It’s the way you justify it. I suppose you can’t just turn Napalm away in her hour of need, either?”

“Pepper! I’m surprised at you! First, you expect me to turn my back on a desperate woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and then you want me to abandon Napalm? She needs me. She’s an alcoholic, and a nymphomaniac, and she has appealed to me to help her in her, as you so rightly put it, hour of need. How could I refuse, and still call myself a decent, honourable man.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Stark.” Pepper snorted.

“And you’re just jealous, Potts. Now, I have to get dressed. You should go.”

“Yes. I have work to do today.”

“So do I.”

(Author’s Note: Now, now, don’t get too upset, gentle readers. If there was no angst, it wouldn’t be a soap opera, would it? So, is Professor X’s optimism warranted, or is Magneto going to get to say I told you so. And you know who hasn’t showed up in this story yet to rain on Logan’s parade? Sabretooth. What’s he got to do with it? See you again, soon, same X-Time, same X-Channel!)