Back to Part 1
* * *
"I can't seem to get through,
get through to you,
and I would do anything to keep you
from going through what you will go through."
— "When," by Bell
* * *
[Five months to go. Only five months till the beginning of June.
Less than five months. Practically four months...]
Unfortunately, four months didn't sound much better than five. Especially not after a day like today.
For one thing, Jubilation Lee, Guardian of Troubled Relationships (especially
those that she had campaigned for, bullied roommates into, and essentially
created out of thin air) had attached herself to Rogue's elbow on the way
out of Hank's biology class, no doubt to ensure that Marie found herself
eating lunch beside the "boyfriend" she was trying to avoid. When Rogue
refused to be steered towards the cafeteria, muttering something about going
to lunch with Logan, Ms. Lee rather cheekily invited herself along. No doubt
Jubes merely thought to minimize Remy's pique at being left hanging for lunch
by being able to assure him that Logan and Marie had been adequately "chaperoned"
— not that Remy had to worry about any competition from Wolvie, ha ha. (Her
*stated* intention was merely to get some nice greasy fast food into her
system.)
The tooth-grinding part of it being of course that Jubes' unwanted presence
was in fact preventing the nice tension-relieving nooner Marie had been counting
on.
Worst of all, Logan merely shrugged off Jubi's tagging along with a philosophical
quirk of his eyebrow. As Marie could tell, he found lunch with Marie and
Jubilee — even sans sex — to be infinitely preferable to Marie having lunch
with Remy.
So the only thing she could do was to plow through her combo meal in stony
silence — which Jubes was of course too busy filling with perky chatter to
notice.
Back at the school, classes allowed her to continue to evade Gambit — until mid-afternoon, at least.
By about four pm, Marie was in her room. Alone. For once. And taking advantage
of Kitty and Jubes' absence to get as much homework as possible done before
heading for Logan's room after dinner to "study."
It never occurred to her to question the convenient timing of her roommates'
mutual absence until the door opened and Remy walked in. Without knocking.
Closing the door, he leaned back against it and waited.
No one would normally walk into the room without knocking but someone who
lived there — with the exception of Logan, who never did so except when he
knew that Marie was alone in the room. Absorbed in the logic of a heredity
question, Marie mentally catalogued the sound of the door as "someone who
belongs here" and didn't bother to look up, until the silence registered.
Kitty or Jubes would say something to her, move across the room, drop things
on beds and turn the radio on. Logan would say something, or walk up to
her. Someone who just walked in and stopped, though...
She looked up.
Remy half smiled. "Took you long enough to notice me. What if I'd been some Humans First goon sneaking up on you?"
"They wouldn't have gotten this far without triggering alarms or getting caught by Logan or the Professor or somebody."
"You don't know, could be some sneaky ones..." He started to walk across the room, still smiling slightly.
"If they were that sneaky, I wouldn't have even heard them open the door."
"Could have been surprised, not expecting anyone to be in here..."
"Would have been careless, making noise anyway. Couldn't be very good at their jobs."
"Still could be a bit dangerous, for a little thing like you here all alone — "
"All alone in a house full of dangerous mutants in the center of a massive
state-of-the-art security system. Quit pretending like I'm careless or helpless
and tell me what you're doing here."
He shrugged expansively. "Just trying to talk to you."
"In my bedroom. Alone."
He smiled provocatively. "I won't say I don't appreciate the circumstances..."
He seated himself on her bed, leaning back to rest against the headboard
as though he had every right to be there.
Inner Wolvie snarled. Though Logan had never actually been in this particular
bed, he considered it his simply by virtue of being where his Marie slept
when she wasn't with him. Having another male on it — especially *this*
hated rival — even while Marie was a good ten feet away — didn't sit well
with him at all.
Marie set her teeth, forcing back the growl that tried to bubble out. "Well,
*I* don't appreciate them. This is my *bedroom*. My *private* room — "
conveniently ignoring the two girls she shared it with " — My *boudoir*,
if that word's a little easier for you to understand. And I didn't invite
you in."
"No, but you damned sure didn't make it easy to find you anywhere else.
And we need to talk. So I had to hunt you down."
"So talk." [Go ahead. Give me a reason to storm out. I dare you. Please.]
He sat up, the impish smile disappearing. "You keep trying to push me away
when you don't really want to. And I know why. And it ain't because of
your skin, either."
[Oh, hell. Calm, keep calm, no emotion... Logan! Come on dammit, *you*
meditate, help me out here...!] "Why?" [Calm, calm, don't freak out, he might
not actually know — he's a little empathic, not actually a telepath...]
"You keep fending me off because you're holding out for Logan."
She kept very still. [True. But how much else does he know...?]
"Because you think you're *obligated* to him. Because he saved your life.
Because he isn't afraid of you, of your skin — and because he's damn near
unkillable, so you don't have to worry about hurting him as much as anyone
else."
[True. All of it. As far as it goes. But anyone could guess that much...]
[Don't calm down too much,] Inner Logan warned. [You relax now, he knows he guessed wrong, or missed something big.]
"But cherie — he doesn't love you. He doesn't want you. I'm
sorry to say it, but it's true. You have to realize it."
[No it's not!] The frustration at the oft-repeated "truth" that so many of
her friends seemed compelled to convince her of "for her own good" was easily
mistaken for the stubborn denial of a deluded young woman refusing the truth
she didn't want to believe. So Marie encouraged the emotion, let it build,
let it fill her eyes with mute ire.
Picking up on her mood, Remy softened his tone, balancing it between soothing
and implacable. "And having me around hasn't changed his mind about that.
He's just gotten dog-in-the-mangerish about you because he hates me, and
maybe cause having a pretty girl following him around feeds his ego."
[As if you didn't know all about ‘pretty girls feeding your ego'!] Resentment
was a natural reaction here. Marie didn't try to suppress it.
"But cherie, don't waste your time thinkin' he's gonna turn to you one day
and say you're the one for him. *He's* been wastin' his time panting after
Jean, not you." Softening his voice, "And you deserve so much better
than to be the one somebody *settles for,* after he gives up on the one he
*really* wants..." He moved towards her, no doubt planning some reconciling
gesture of affection.
Leaving the growling to Inner Wolvie and the frustrated protests to Subliminal
Logan, Marie was able to come up with a response all her very own.
"Gee, Remy, if that's such good advice then maybe you should take it yourself."
A pause to let the shot register, and then Inner Logan nudged her on to,
"Of course, if all you're looking for is a quick fuck then being second choice
doesn't really matter, does it?"
Satisfied that the enemy had been stunned by that one-two combination, Marie
prepared to flee the scene. Only the fact that the genetics textbook
was still under her hand caused her to bring it with her, and she would have
left her homework behind had it not gotten caught between the pages when
she slammed the book closed. (As it was, she completely forgot her history
book, despite the assigned chapter that hadn't even been glanced over yet.)
It only took her a second to close the book and sweep it into the crook of
one arm, but the delay and the warning signs of leave-taking were enough
to unfreeze Remy. Moving to stand between her and the door, "Rogue.
I want more than that from you. You should know that by now.
Please. You have to realize — "
Cutting him off, "Mostly what I realize is that you're telling me it's okay
for *you* to be second choice if it gets *me* to settle for *you*, but it's
not okay for *me* to hold out for Logan and hope that eventually he quits
moping after Jean and decides I'm worth picking up after all."
He looked inclined to argue, but she wasn't going to stick around for it.
The question had kept her up nights sometimes, wondering: If she ever found
herself in a situation where she touched Remy — whether by accident or because
he decided to be reckless and force the issue — would she be willing to hurt
him, leave him comatose and add his personality to the jumble in her skull,
all just to protect her secret for a few months longer?
Right now, the question was easy to answer.
Remy didn't need empathy to read the bulldozing expression on her face.
It moved him out of her way more effectively than any of the body throws
Logan had taught her.
Except that he followed her. And would have kept talking and delaying
her all the way to her chosen refuge — and if Logan wasn't already there
(an iffy proposition, this early in the evening), then Remy might be able
to actually keep her from the safety of The Room He Dared Not Enter.
He had to be driven off.
She was never sure whether the comment came from some nonvocal prompting
of Subliminal Logan, or from a hitherto unsuspected store of inner bitchery.
"That's it, isn't it? You're afraid he'll finally get tired of holding
out for Jean — or decide I'm old enough to be interesting — " skating a bit
close to the truth there, especially if one substituted "legal" for "interesting"
" — or get so pissed off at you he decides to take your ‘girlfriend' right
out from under you?" Not quite daring to use the phrase "supposed girlfriend"
in front of Remy, she settled for enclosing the word in sarcastic verbal
quotes.
He stopped dead in the hallway.
She didn't start running until she was out of sight around the bend in the
hall. It was imperative that she be safely behind the closed door of
Logan's room before Remy caught up with her. Except that he didn't
seem to be following her at all.
Logan's room was of course unlocked. He had been given a key, which
remained unused in a drawer. His sense of smell being enough to identify
the perpetrators of any unauthorized entries in his absence, the knowledge
of certain retribution was more effective than any cheap and easily picked
door lock.
Letting herself in, Marie closed the door behind herself with a sigh of relief.
Logan wasn't in yet. Laying the textbook on his desk — Lord knew she
wouldn't feel calm enough to finish her homework anytime soon — she dropped
onto his bed with another sigh.
It wasn't really the fight that was sticking with her — or rather, it wasn't
anything Remy had said that worried her. It wasn't even that he had
rather neatly twigged to the fact that Rogue was actually resisting him because
she preferred Logan. It was that wounded look on his face as she left
him standing dumbstruck in the hallway outside her dorm room.
It wasn't that she actually *disliked* the man. Heh. Truth be
told, if he'd gotten to her first — or even before Logan had gotten around
to starting in on that indirect courtship they'd had — well, she might be
reasonably content with Gambit today. Granted, with no control over
her gifts — probably. Possibly. But *still* — she might well
have actually been happy with Remy. Had things worked out otherwise.
But the way things had worked out, she was with Logan. And loved him.
And — she didn't like to admit it even to herself, and damned sure didn't
ever want to say anything of the kind to Logan, but — well, there was mutual
obligation. Not just for nearly killing each other, or for him saving
her life a few times — but for all the control she now had over her powers.
That was all due to him and his practice sessions.
So. She and Logan had ties. Shared history, debts and mutual
obligations that had been met — on his part, at least. An existing
relationship. Chemistry and affection and outright love. And
she and Remy had — well, due to the efforts of the combined population of
the school (with a few notable exceptions, like Logan and Ororo and Kurt),
she and Remy had an "existing relationship." And definite chemistry
— on both sides, she had to admit. But. She couldn't genuinely
explore matters with Remy without breaking things off with Logan.
And she wasn't an idiot. A naive optimist, or one with a short attention
span when it came to relationships, might have thought that she could try
Remy out for a while, and go back to Logan if and when Remy didn't turn out
to be a keeper. But even without Inner Logan to tell her so, Marie
had a strong suspicion that if she and Logan broke things off, for whatever
reason, he would hit the road. To spare himself pain, to spare her
pain, to make a clean break. And he wouldn't plan on coming back.
Ever.
And really, what Remy was telling her *would* have been good advice, had
the carefully crafted external appearance of her and Logan's relationship
been actuality. And what she had told him was equally true — that he
deserved to be someone's second choice no more than she did.
So. As much of a pain in the ass as the situation could be sometimes
— *most* times — it really *was* the best choice for all concerned for her
to stick with Logan, and for Remy to give up and move on.
Even though what she wanted to do the most right this instant was to go back
and find Remy and try to soothe that hurt look away.
But she had to tough it out.
[Five months to go. Only five months till the beginning of June.
Less than five months. Practically four months...]
* * *
* * *
You would have thought that a house full of telepaths would be an impossible
place to keep a secret. And under most circumstances that would probably
be true. But Xavier's School for the Gifted was most decidedly *not*
"under most circumstances" (assuming that the phrase could even be legitimately
*applied* to any group containing multiple telepaths). When the strongest
mindreader under the roof was not only the man in charge but also possessed
of an almost romantic set of ethical principles that he tried to drum into
his students' heads, eavesdropping on others' thoughts became a major household
no-no — a rule that Xavier was both willing and able to enforce. And
just to help prevent excessive leakage "for the benefit of those still unused
to controlling their mental gifts" (and not-so-incidentally to reduce the
tempting opportunity to snoop), techniques for shielding one's thoughts were
part of the standard curriculum for non-telepaths, whether future X-Man or
mainstream-bound. For an actual mindreader, not only was the shielding
more rigidly practiced, but incursions past the mental barriers could be
more easily detected.
But the strongest mental shields in the world can't block one's scent, and
prevention of telepathic eavesdropping won't affect the ability to overhear
verbal conversation. Which was how, even in a house full of telepaths
and the odd empath, Logan was the first person to realize why Betsy's reaction
to Warren's advances was so... lukewarm.
Warren pretty much got on Logan's nerves. That was rarely difficult
to do, but in this case it was actually a fairly legitimate reaction on Logan's
part. The Angel had rapidly classified the Wolverine as a psychotic
fit of rage just waiting to happen, and had flatly refused to be on any team
that included Logan as a member. Since Warren's return to Xavier's
school had occurred when enough new members were joining the group to allow
for the division of the X-Men into two teams, this demand could be met.
But if Feathers disliked him, then Logan was more than willing to return
the favor.
So Logan might have considered Betsy's cool reaction to Warren to have been
merely a sign of good taste on her part — had he not one day passed very
closely downwind of Betsy standing with Ororo. The two women were standing
in the hallway discussing some movie or another one of them had seen, but
that wasn't what caught Logan's attention. He actually broke stride
for a second to confirm what the first whiff had suggested to him, then passed
on his way with a private chuckle. [Guess Stormy's got more of a chance with
Bets than Tweety ever will...]
Of course, as Hank might have said, two points do not a statistical sample
make. Or to be more blunt, just because Betsy was interested in one
particular woman while one man left her cold didn't *necessarily* mean she
was a lesbian. It was certainly *interesting*, but...
Logan, being Logan, filed it away in his memory without being bothered by
the idea one way or the other. For him, the relevant question had never
been whether a woman was attracted to men or to women, but whether she was
attracted to *him* or not. Since Betsy wasn't interested (even had
he actually been available), it didn't much matter *who* she preferred to
him.
At least, not until he found himself struggling to find a plausible excuse for having turned Jean down.
Because the day after sending Jean from his room, he started stalking Betsy.
* * *
* * *
Logan spent a good hour just — tracking Betsy around the mansion. Where
she had been, who might have been in the room with her at the same time,
what they might have been doing — and especially, what sort of mood she might
have been in while dealing with whom. Shortly before lunchtime, he
decided that his conclusions were, if not *entirely* certain, at least reasonably
warranted.
Satisfied with his information-gathering, he shifted from passively trailing
his prey to actively bringing her to bay. He cornered his quarry in
the gym, where she was just exiting the women's locker room after a round
of aerobics.
"Mind if I talk to you for a minute? In private?"
He led her away from the others in the gym, down the hall to his office.
She followed him silently, probably assuming it had something to do with
her self-defense training — after all, what else could he possibly have to
say to her? (He had made the obligatory pro forma pass at the new babe within
a day or two of meeting her, and been rejected with the automatic ease of
long practice. Even if his play for her *had* been genuine, Logan would
have wasted no further time on a woman whom his senses warned felt such a
complete lack of sexual interest in him. Given his covert relationship
with Marie, he had felt no regrets at completely dropping any flirtation
with Betsy.)
Gesturing her into the office first and into a chair, he closed the door
behind them and leaned against it, thereby preventing the attempt to angrily
storm out that he was anticipating. "Is there any reason you've been
going out with Worthington when you're really more into chicks?"
"WHAT?! I'm not — I — How *dare* you!"
He shrugged diffidently. "Look, I really don't give a damn *whose*
bed you're wanting into — I was just wondering if there's any particular
reason you seem to feel like you have to go out with a guy who just doesn't
do it for you?"
"I — What makes you think Warren ‘doesn't do it for me'? And what the hell makes it any of your business, anyway?"
"I don't think, I *know*. Say whatever you want, your scent doesn't
lie. And it *isn't* any of my business — but I've got a reason for
wanting to know."
"What possible reason — "
"Uh-uh. First you tell me why you're playing with Feathers."
"I'm *not* ‘playing with Fea—' with Warren, I'm... seeing him."
"Ah. My mistake. You're right. You're not playing with
him — but *he* really wants to play with *you*. And you're just ‘seeing
him'."
She refused to respond, glaring at her bracelet as though it had personally
offended her and adjusting the lie of one of the charms dangling from it.
"But probably not seeing as much of him as he'd like to show you, I'm thinking.
So again, why bother? Why put up with him if you don't want him?"
The anger had faded from sullen silence to a sort of passive gloom as she
realized that her display of outrage had failed to convince him. "It's...
easier."
"Easier? To play along with some guy who's trying to get into your pants? Easier than what?"
"Just... easier."
"Look, if you're worried about coming out of the closet or whatever, everybody's
pretty tolerant here. Well, okay, Scooter's a dick, and some of the
kids need a bit more sense knocked into them, but — "
She shook her head, silently refusing.
"Okay. So you're wanting to keep this to yourself right now.
And you're putting up with a boyfriend — what, to make yourself look straight?"
"To make myself look... taken." Very quietly, eyes lowered.
And as soon as she said it, he realized that she had a point. Because,
lord, but did she draw attention. It wasn't just the husky voice and
smouldering eyes that seemed to belie the cool precision of the upper-class
British accent that had such an effect on this side of the pond — it was
the long legs and fluid grace of a woman trained to use her body as a display
piece long before anyone came in and taught her to use it as a weapon instead.
But as the girlfriend of Warren Kenneth Worthington III (possessor of looks,
charm, an ungodly amount of money, and a rather attractive mutation to top
it all off with), she had been out of reach.
"So. Better to deal with just one guy you don't want, than have to
fend off all of them?" At her delicate nod, he smiled slightly.
"I think we can help each other out here."
Warily, she raised her eyes to meet his.
"See... my life has gotten real... complicated, lately." The smile
turned slightly rueful at the understatement. "Without getting into
the details, let's just say that it'd make things a *hell* of a lot easier
if I looked like I'd just gotten a new girlfriend — but I don't actually
*want* a new girlfriend. I just want someone who'd *act* like one.
In public, at least," he added, seeing the suspicion on her face.
"Which would mean — what, exactly?"
"Oh, you break it off with Flyboy, and we tell everybody we're an item now.
I don't try to get into your pants, and I don't care whose bed you're really
in — as long as you don't let everybody *know* about it, I mean. No
making out with Ro at the breakfast table or anything like that." He
smiled again, at her slight blush.
"That's *it*?" Disbelievingly.
"Pretty much. We might have to go out on a few dates..." Seeing
the look on her face, he hastily added, "Or at least fake them. Go
out, I drop you off somewhere, you call me when you need a ride home, and
let everybody assume we were together the whole time."
"That sounds like a lot of trouble..."
"You're happier with a guy who's genuinely *trying* to get into bed with
you?" She looked rueful. "Besides, not for that long — a month
or two. Three, tops."
She frowned at him. "So you're telling me that you want me to *pretend*
to be seeing you instead of Warren for just a few months, and you claim that
you won't be spending all that time trying to shag me, or even date me properly?"
"Well, maybe one or two dates. Just to get to know each other..."
Realizing that he wasn't exactly allaying her suspicions, he added, "It's
going to look weird if I don't know anything about my girl. But we
can just — talk or whatever — right here at the school. We don't have
to actually go have dinner together or anything."
"And what exactly would *I* be getting out of this arrangement?"
Amused, "Aside from having someone vicious and short-tempered following you
around threatening any guys who even *look* at you too long? Well,
the girls have given me a lot of experience at being a chauffeur, handyman
and workhorse, and I can promise you some pretty intensive training sessions
if you *want* to seriously improve your combat skills. I mean, what
were you getting out of Tweety, aside from looking taken?"
"‘Tweety'? Oh..." Betsy gave Logan a careful up-and-down assessment.
"Well, he was rather — pretty. He made a fetching escort."
"Hey, I can clean up nice. I don't usually *do* it, but..." He
left the sentence unfinished, the unspoken offer clear, and refrained from
sighing at the prospect of the kinds of society events Betsy might be requiring
an "escort" for.
"Hmm. Why for only a few months?"
"What?" Stalling for time to think — he knew damned well what she was referring to.
"Why would this arrangement last no longer than three months?"
"Because after then, my life gets a lot less complicated." [Or maybe even more so — but the sneaking around part will be over.]
"Hmm. That's not much of an answer."
"No, it's not."
"What happens if I say no?"
A slight pause for thought. "I guess you stick with Warren. Eventually
you'll probably either have to start doing him or he'll cut you loose.
Or you could just come out of the closet — or someone other than me may find
out anyway." A shrug.
Her jaw set. "Is that meant to be a threat?"
"What?" Reviewing his statement, he caught the implication. "Bets,
if I was trying to blackmail you I'd come right out and *say* that I'll make
an announcement at dinner tonight unless you agree to do this with me.
I wouldn't hint around."
"I see." Lips thinned. Evidently she didn't believe him.
He sighed. "Look, you can try it out, and if I'm lying to you or you
just don't like the arrangement, you're free to ‘dump me.' Say I was
an ‘insensitive brute' or whatever — I'm sure everyone'll believe you."
She considered the matter. He waited, leaning against the door.
Finally, "All right. On a trial basis, mind," she warned, rising from
her chair.
He smiled. "All right. Should I take you somewhere tonight, or do you want to go give Feathers the bad news first?"
"Mmm. I think — maybe we should try going out first. Just to
dinner. I want to see how this goes before I burn my bridges."
"Okay. Seven o'clock fine?"
"That should do nicely." She headed for the door, and Logan stepped
aside and started to open it. Betsy halted him, placing one hand on
the door to keep it closed. "I just have to ask — are you gay?"
"What?!" A pause while the question registered. Betsy eyed him
warily, perhaps expecting an explosion of some sort. She got one.
Before the laughter made speech totally impossible, Logan managed to say,
"No — that actually would have made things *less* complicated!"
"Excuse me?"
Explaining the joke would have required telling her about the reminder card
for Marie's obstetrician's appointment hiding in his bedside table next to
a small velvet box. Logan quite justifiably chose to leave her wondering.
* * *
* * *
Late afternoon "personal self-defense training" with Logan was always a joy,
even when they actually spent the time training rather than simply taking
advantage of being alone together. And since Logan had flatly refused
to engage in physical combat with Marie in her current condition, the sessions
were now nothing more than an excuse for unchaperoned time with each other.
So Marie headed for the gym with more than her usual sense of anticipation.
When she got there, Logan met her with a gleeful expression that seemed to
promise unexpected joys. Leading her out of the building and into the
woods (a favored site both for privacy and for training in "guerilla combat"),
he found a well-known location on the shores of the lake. Having maintained
his silence until that point, he now turned to Marie.
"I think I just solved the Jean problem," he announced with a smirk.
"Really?" His delight was infectious. His expression and tone
of voice implied that the solution was neat, efficient, and strongly appealed
to his sense of humor. Then Inner Logan reminded her of one of the
potential responses to the situation, and Marie just had to ask, warily,
"You didn't go claiming to have been using her to get to Scott, did you?"
"No, I didn't want to risk him actually taking me up on the offer.
I got Betsy to agree to dump Feathers for *me* for the next few months."
"*WHAT*?!"
Logan looked puzzled, as though he couldn't imagine why this solution could
be seen as anything less than perfect. "Well, okay, she's going out
with me tonight to test the waters, but I think I can get her to agree to
give Tweety the bad news tomorrow."
"Why on *earth* would you do a thing like that?"
A blank look. "Because I thought it would get Jean off my back quickest
if I looked like I'd already shifted gears to someone else before she came
after me?"
Marie gritted her teeth, struggling for patience. Because the thing about
Logan, the sometimes endearing but occasionally maddening thing about him,
was the way that eminently practical and intensely antisocialized personality
took some fairly unique approaches to problem-solving.
But she wouldn't lose her temper at him. Not yet. Because he
had a fair grasp of how people worked, regardless of his lack of interest
in dealing with most of them — and he *had* to have realized that his girlfriend
— no, *fiancé* — would have some strong objections to his seeing another
woman. There had to be factors in this that she just hadn't grasped
yet.
Or else Logan was actually being dense for once.
"Okay, I can see that. But why date Betsy?"
"Oh, we won't be dating. Not really. It's just going to *look* like we are."
"And why is Betsy willing to pretend to be your girlfriend? And how is Warren going to take this?"
"Betsy's willing to pretend because it makes her look taken and I promised
not to be trying to get into her pants the way Flyboy does — and I don't
give a shit *how* he takes it. In fact, I hope it really chaps his
ass."
"And Betsy wants to look taken without actually sleeping with her boyfriend *because*...?"
A confused look. "Because she's a dyke and doesn't want anyone else
to know about it?" As though it should have been patently obvious.
"Ah. Of course," Marie said weakly. It hadn't been obvious to
*her*, but she didn't ask Logan how he knew. She understood very well
what his sources of information tended to be. She just wished that
his borrowed memories were more accessible to her own conscious recall, rather
than being unexpected reactions to random stimuli or popping up uncontrollably
in dreams. "And does Betsy know why *you* want her to pretend to be
your girl?"
He shifted a little, uncomfortably. "I just told her that my life got
‘really complicated' lately, and I needed to look like I had a girlfriend
without actually having one. I'm not planning to tell her about us
unless I have to."
Marie sighed. "Is that going to be enough for her, though?"
He shrugged. "I hope so. If not, well, after Jean's off my back I can live with ‘breaking up with' Bets."
Reluctantly, "Or I guess we *could* risk telling her. *If* she seems trustworthy.
And given that we already know something about her she doesn't want anyone
else to know. It sort of evens out."
"Maybe. If she seems like she'd take it the right way. But it's
not like we have to keep things under wraps for that much longer..."
Accepting her suggestion and dismissing the subject all at once.
"No. And I for one am glad..." She took a few steps forward,
reaching Logan where he stood at the edge of the clearing and putting her
arms around his neck. "Because I'm really getting sick of all this
pretending."
"You and me both, baby," Logan murmured, wrapping his arms around her and
pulling her that last half-step to press herself against him.
* * *
* * *
[Why the hell are you doing this, Bets?]
Betsy Braddock rummaged absently through one of many jewelry boxes, searching
for the match to the onyx earring currently dangling from her left earlobe.
Finding it, she met her own eyes in the mirror. [I'll tell you why.
Because the man too hard for bullets, bombs or booze to take down has his
finger right on the biggest secret you have from these people — and after
what you've seen out there, you're willing to put up with a *lot* rather
than risk losing this sanctuary.] Sighing, she put on the earring.
It had been a confusing afternoon. In the wake of that odd interview
with Logan, she'd changed her mind half a dozen times about how to handle
the situation. Tell Logan that she didn't know what game he was playing,
but she'd rather not play it with him, thank you very much? Tell Warren
that Logan had asked her to dinner and let *him* deal with it? Play
along with Logan on the off-chance that he was actually telling her the truth
and might turn out to be a more convenient "boyfriend" than Warren?
In the end, what she came around to was the same damnably wavering response
that she'd ended their conversation with — a single "date," to test the waters
and perhaps even to verify or disprove his promise not to make any genuine
plays for her affections.
She wouldn't give an unqualified yes — because so far Warren seemed a highly
satisfactory boyfriend (aside from those attempts to add a more physical
dimension to their relationship, which he was politely allowing her to postpone
for the moment), and a change to Logan might not be for the better.
She wouldn't go to Warren (yet) — because letting him know that Logan had
made a pass at her would have easily foreseeable and highly unpleasant consequences.
(Were she to break with the Angel — well, she'd cross that bridge when she
came to it.)
She wouldn't give Logan an outright no — because ever since that horror-show
first meeting, Logan had made her nervous — the more so when she learned
how deadly a martial artist he was, and most of all because he was so nearly
unreadable to her telepathy. She very much preferred staying on his
good side (if such a thing existed — though his friendly relations with certain
of the students and X-Men seemed to indicate that it did).
But she *would* go on this one date. Tonight was about stalling for
time before she made a decision, about getting a better feel for what he
was truly asking of her, and perhaps even about learning *why* he was asking
her to do this — because Lord help her, she was curious. Logan's thoughts
were barred to her, his words few but sometimes startling, and his actions
(as today had proved) utterly unpredictable. She couldn't even accurately
assess from this morning's conversation whether his offer was genuine or
a highly inventive sexual ploy. Sheer self-preservation impelled her
to study this rare and dangerous beastie that she found herself living in
close proximity to. Curiosity was the finishing touch.
Nodding to herself in the mirror, she pronounced her ensemble complete even as the knock came at the door.
* * *
* * *
"Well?" Right when he came through the door.
"Well what?" Hanging up his jacket.
[Well, at least he didn't tell me, "That's a deep subject,"] Marie sighed. "How did your ‘date' with Psylocke go?"
Logan shrugged. "No arrests. Minimal bloodshed."
"So is she going to go for it, or did she blow you off?" [Am I going to actually have *competition*?]
He got a thoughtful look on his face. "Think so. Think I managed
to get her convinced this isn't a real creative way of getting her on her
back, at least."
"You didn't decide to *tell* her, did you?" [Without consulting *me*?!]
[All this time keeping quiet with the people we trust the most, and you think
I'd go unloading on a near-stranger?] Inner Logan griped.
"No. I don't know her well enough for that yet, anyway."
Relief. "Good. So... What did you talk about?"
Another of those shrugs. "Stuff."
"Such as?"
"I don't know. Sports. How bad American beer is. She made
opera-related threats, but I think she was only kidding. I hope.
Her family back in England. What a fucking pain in the ass it is trying
to look pretty as a career — she was pretty explicit on that one, actually."
He gave Marie an amused eyebrow in response to her giggle. "I think
this could work out."
"It only has to work out for a few months," she reminded. [Don't go getting *too* comfortable with her!]
"Right. But I think it will. And at least *she* isn't trying to climb into bed with *me*." An ironic tone.
It took Marie a minute to catch his implication that *her* pseudo-boyfriend
was trying to nail *her* — still edgy at the idea of Logan escorting a former
model around (lesbian or not), for a moment she interpreted the flip side
of his statement as being that Logan was indeed trying to climb into bed
with Betsy. "Right," she agreed, belatedly.
He gave her an amused look, catching the pause. "Not fun seeing your
guy out with another girl, is it?" He was mature enough to refrain
from hammering his point home with a, "See how *I've* been feeling?"
She sighed. "I know it's fair, but I still hate it."
"I know."
She chose not to ask if the smug tone was because he was flattered by her
possessiveness, or enjoying the slight payback for all the months of standing
by watching Remy put the moves on her.
[Both, I think,] Subliminal Logan suggested.
* * *
* * *
"I'm telling you, the man is *gay*!"
It was an arresting statement on several levels. Logan halted in his
course to the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt the gossip session in progress
— at least, not until he'd satisfied his curiosity.
Oh, sure, if cornered he'd justify his tendency towards shameless eavesdropping
as an outgrowth of his customary paranoia — information gathering from all
available sources, if you will. But, truthfully, he was just inquisitive
as hell.
And a second later, paranoia _vs._ snoopiness was forgotten as his "girlfriend"
responded to *her* girlfriend's declaration. "I seriously doubt it,
Dani. I don't know *why* Logan finds this charade to be desirable,
but I don't think it's because he's a ponce."
Logan happily seated himself on the floor in the hallway several yards down
from the kitchen, beer forgotten. This conversation had just gone from
interesting to fascinating — no *way* he was interrupting it until they were
done!
Things got even better, as a third voice entered the discussion. "I
just don't know. I would have been willing to swear that Logan is straight
— but then, up until a few weeks ago I was just as sure that he was — well,
maybe not *in love* with me, but *extremely* interested. So now I don't
know *what* to think about him." Jean sounded genuinely baffled.
Oh, this was good — this was *very* good. The two or three gals in
the best positions to know he had a big secret in his love life — and here
they were comparing *notes*! It was pretty goddamned lucky that he'd
come along at the right place and time to overhear the debate — if his luck
held true, they might even give him a few ideas for how to steer the lot
of them away from the truth.
"That's gotta be it, Bets — as soon as he showed up here he latched onto
the one woman least likely to say ‘yes' to him — and as soon as she *did*
say it, he started shoving her back at her boyfriend, then turned around
and got a lesbian to pretend to be his girl. I mean, have either of
you ever *seen* him with a woman? That you knew he was sleeping with,
I mean?"
Jean objected delicately. "Logan tends to conduct most of his affairs
away from the school. There are children present, and this isn't a
motel..."
"Exactly. So how do we know they're actually with *women*?"
Jean merely sighed, but Betsy had more to say on the subject. "We know because I asked him if he was gay."
"What?!" News to Jean...
...But not to Dani. "Yeah, and he said he wasn't — but if he's going
to all this trouble to stay in the closet, he's not going to come right out
and admit he's gay if someone asks him."
"I actually considered that, Dani, but for one thing." Significant
pause. "When I asked him, he didn't seem at all defensive or offended
at the idea. He actually laughed and said it would have made his love
life less complicated if he were."
Logan sighed a little, silently. [I wonder if I'd have been better off claiming to have a thing for Scooter after all...]
"Okay, *what* is he doing that fucking other men would be *simpler*?
Is he a serial killer? Doing one of the Brotherhood? Does he
like sheep? What?" Dani was miffed, probably at the dismissal
of her pet theory.
Logan put a hand over his mouth, muffling what came suspiciously close to giggles.
"I don't think he's a killer — well, okay, he *is*, but not a *serial* killer. And he can't stand the Brotherhood."
Logan couldn't help but note that Jean hadn't expressed an opinion on the sheep question. The giggles grew worse.
"You know what *I* think?" Betsy's voice had lowered, and Logan attempted
to suppress his mirth to listen better. All laughter died at her next
words. "I think it's one of those girls he hangs around with."
[Oh, damn. Oh, *fuck*. That's what I get for letting a fucking *telepath* know I‘ve got a secret...]
"I doubt it. We were worried about it when he started taking students
off on pickups, so the Professor started keeping an eye on him with Cerebro.
Nothing happened."
The initial gratitude at the unexpected defense from Jean was washed away
by the horror at the matter-of-fact admittance that he had been spied upon.
He couldn't argue that they hadn't been justified — after all, he *had* been
carrying an underaged girl across state lines for felonious sex — but learning
after the fact how close they had come to discovery was mind-numbing. [How
the HELL did they manage to snoop on me and *not* catch me with Marie...?]
"Really? Do you still watch him, or did you decide he was behaving
himself and leave him alone after that?" Betsy sounded intrigued.
"Well, we — after a few months, we quite worrying, so we left him his privacy
after that — aside from a few random checks." Jean sounded uncomfortable.
[Oh, sure, be guilty that you *stopped* snooping on me, and never *mind*
whether you had any right to watch me in the first place,] a snarky corner
of his mind griped, mostly silenced by his own sense of culpability.
"So he could have taken his time about moving in on her — lulled every one's
suspicions, like. He's not thick — he'd *have* to know you'd be watching
him with those girls."
"...Could be." Jean sounded unnerved.
Logan was equally unnerved. [Damn. Looks like Marie and I are going to have to behave ourselves for a while! Shit.]
"Which girl do you think it is? Or has he got more than one of them?" Dani seemed taken by the idea.
"Mmm... I can't see him managing to juggle a bunch of teenagers right
under each other's noses — unless he's *much* smoother than I'd given him
credit for. That's more Remy's trick, I'd imagine."
[That fucking Cajun...]
"It *would* be complicated, though — and we're looking for complicated," Jean offered.
"True, but I'm thinking that an underaged girl on the premises of a school
packed with telepaths and empaths is complicated enough."
"So which one?" Dani asked again.
"I would have to say Jubilee."
Logan relaxed.
"No. She was the one we were worried about. We watched him with
her even after we quit worrying about the others." Jean sounded positive.
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. [They were watching me
more with some girls than others? And Marie is "untouchable," so...
Okay, *that's* how they missed us...]
"I'm going to say Kitty. There was something off about her breakup
with Peter, now that I think about it. It wouldn't surprise me at all
if she'd gotten involved with someone else at that point."
Logan smirked, unseen in the darkness. [Kurt, pal, I owe you one...]
"Okay, *you* say Kitty and *you * say Jubilee. I *still* think he's
gay. I mean, he didn't even *try* to nail you, Betsy! For all
we know, he could be doing Sam, or St John. Or Bobby."
Logan nearly lost it at Dani's list of possible lovers. Okay, St John
had required some fending off, and Bobby was doing a really half-assed job
of staying in that closet — but *Sam*? Sam wanted a *dad*, not a boyfriend
— when Logan went down to Kentucky to fetch Sam's little sister Paige, the
boy had been transparent in his hopes that Logan would hit it off with his
widowed mother. Shoulders quivering with suppressed chuckles, Logan
eagerly awaited the next installment.
"What is this, a *bet*?"
"Guess so." Dani was willing to put her money where her mouth was.
"What are the stakes? Money, dinner somewhere, what?" Jean was in.
"Let's say, dinner for three at [INSERT NYC RESTAURANT], losers to split the bill for the winner."
"And if we're all wrong?" Well, at least Dani was willing to entertain the possibility. (She was right, too.)
"If we're all wrong, we're all losers, so everyone pays for her own share," Bets said crisply.
"I'm in. How do we settle this?"
"Just go ask him?" Dani was willing to outdo her lover in bluntness.
[Oh geeze, *that* could get interesting... "Okay, Logan, what's the
story? Who are you fucking that you don't want everyone to know about?"
"Sheep. And golden retrievers on the side."]
"No, since your own bet includes the supposition that he'll lie in response
to a direct question about his romantic inclinations." Betsy was not
going to forget that her assessment of Logan's veracity had been called into
question.
"I don't think that using Cerebro would be a good idea. Not to settle a *bet,* anyway."
[*Thank* you, Jeannie!]
"We watch, and we wait. It's going to come out sooner or later — maybe sooner."
"Why do you say that, Babe?"
"Because Logan only asked me to pose as his lover for a few months — three
at most, he said. And that was about a month ago..."
The best part of the conversation seemed to be over. Logan had a devilish
impulse to walk into the kitchen, casually grab a few beers from the fridge,
and on the way out tell the startled trio, "By the way, you *all* lose."
Suppressing the urge, he rose to his feet. Deciding to forego the beer
for tonight, he turned to head back up to his room — and almost ran into
Storm.
Seeing the question being formed, he silenced her with a finger to his lips before she could voice it, then walked away.
He was still chuckling to himself as he reached the stairs.
* * *
On
to Part 3
Return
to X-Men fic page