Two Lovers


Title:  Two Lovers
Author:  Terri
E-mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer:  I don't own anybody.  Rats.
Archive:  Ask, and I will happily say yes.
Feedback:  Please!  With a cherry on top?  Good, bad, and ugly welcome
Summary:  Logan, Jean, and Rogue each have to choose between two lovers.
Comments:  This is (finally) a response to Sorciere's plot bunny.  To say more would be to spoil, but the fact that this wasn't posted to any of the L/R lists should tell you something.

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Hank sighed and poked at the computer keyboard before him.  It had been almost fourteen hours since he'd seen her last.  Rogue.  Marie.  The love of his life.  His gaze fell to a picture of them on his desk, one taken last New Year's.  She was enthusiastically kissing his furry cheek, both bare arms circling his chest.  He wondered idly if she was upstairs holding Logan that way now.

Things had been fine-great, even-for the past eighteen months.  Even three months ago, when Logan and Jean had had a very public fight in the danger room, Marie ignored it.  Two months ago, when Logan had taken to nocturnal voyages into the city as opposed to sticking by Jean's side like glue, Marie was unchanged.  Yesterday, though, when Logan came to their room and asked to have a word with Marie, Hank knew something was up.  He found out from Bobby minutes later that Jean and Logan had finally broken up, and he knew that now that Logan was free and clear again, Marie wouldn't be able to ignore that.

He'd been avoiding her since then, since she went to talk to Logan.  He wanted to indulge in a few more hours of his life as it had been - when Marie had been his lover, when her smiles and kisses were only for him, when she'd come to the lab to surprise him for lunch and make love to him all afternoon. I just don't want to know it's not that way anymore.  I don't want to have to admit it just yet. He let his mind drift back to the beginning, to eighteen months ago, to the first time he held her in his arms.




"I think that one looks like a school bus.  What do you think?"  He and Marie lay on their backs, a large cotton blanket spread out beneath them.  He'd asked her to share a picnic with him, to take her mind off her breakup with Logan.  When she'd accidentally discovered him with Jean, she'd broken it off immediately, and moved out of his room and back in with Jubilee and Kitty that very day.  She'd refused to talk to him, turned aside apologies and explanations.  In all outward ways, she'd made a decisive, clean break and moved on.  But that had been three weeks ago, and Hank knew that inside she was still mourning even now.  Today was an especially difficult day-Jean had announced that she and Logan were moving in together. 

"I concur.  School bus, most definitely.  The one just to the left-that one appears to be a vacuum cleaner, does it not?"  She giggled.  What a sweet sound. They'd always been good friends, and Hank was careful to remind himself that that's all they ever would be.  He told himself to be grateful for that.  To be grateful that she felt comfortable enough with him to share some of her thoughts and feelings, comfortable enough to wear shorts out today, trusting him to be careful in the few small areas where his fur did not protect him from her deadly skin. 

"It does, it really does."  She turned her head to look at him.  "Thanks for making me get out today, Hank.  I really appreciate the company." 

"Of course.  I am glad to have a cloud-watching partner.  It's quite boring to do alone."  For some reason, her eyes teared up at that a little and her mouth turned down.  "Rogue?"

"Sorry.  Just a little emotional right now.  Sorry."  She never let anyone else see her cry, but she did it with Hank sometimes.  He knew it was somehow inappropriate, but he was absurdly grateful for that too.

"It's all right.  Do you want to talk?"  She'd always said no, but something told Hank that she might talk this time.

"I just-I just still feel so hurt.  He said he loved me, you know?  And part of me knows that he does.  But that didn't stop him from going after Jean.  It didn't stop her from sleeping with him-she knew how much I loved him and she's supposed to be my friend.  Not to mention engaged to Scott."  She sniffled a little and took a deep breath.  "Sorry.  I know she's your friend."

"I understand completely how you feel.  And to be honest, she and I-well, I think many of her friends are befuddled at her behavior."

Rogue nodded and tried to steady herself a little.  The tears were flowing freely now.  "I don't really blame her.  I mean, Logan made the choice to be with her, to cheat on me.  Sometimes I think if it hadn't been Jean, it would've been someone else."  That made Hank unaccountably angry.  The idea that someone would have a woman so precious, so beautiful, and would take her for granted-worse, would betray her love-incensed him in some deep, primal way.  "I don't know whether it's because he didn't really love me or doesn't understand what that is or just can't be faithful or that I wasn't enough, you know, because of the skin-I don't know.  I just loved him so much and I was stupid enough to believe he could love me too." 

"Not stupid," Hank corrected.  "You trusted him.  That's not stupidity.  He was the one who acted badly here, Rogue, not you."

"Everybody told me I was too young, too naïve, too inexperienced for him.  I guess they were right.  I had this fantasy of how it would be-that I'd love him and he'd love me and that would both make us happy and that it would somehow-that it would just be enough to sustain us somehow.  But that was wrong.  I was wrong.  Maybe it is foolish to think I could be loved like that, or that it even works that way.  Maybe I should just accept how he is.  Maybe I should do what Kitty and Jubes say, maybe I should go to him and beg him to come back."

Hank winced at that.  "Could you trust him again if he did come back to you?"

Rogue was silent for a long time, thinking.  She did it often during conversation with Hank and he knew it to be a sign that she was starting from square one, thinking through the situation and considering all of her options.  He waited while she did it.  He found it particularly adorable, even when the subject was as depressing as this one.  Finally, she answered, "No."

"I'm sorry."  He genuinely was.  He hated to see her hurting and that's all he'd seen for the past few weeks. 

"Maybe that's wrong or not grown up or something, I don't know.  But I know it's true.  I know myself, and it's true."  She sounded as though she was realizing for the first time that it was truly over between them, and the tears began to fall faster.  "Hank, do you think-do you think that it's me?  You know me, be honest, OK?  Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh my stars, no."  Before he knew it, he was wiping her tears away with large, furry fingers and giving lingering caresses across her cheek.  "You are the most eminently lovable person I have ever had the good fortune to know.  I can't imagine you doing something, anything, to change that."

"B-but my skin-it's a lot.  It's too much, isn't it?  You're a guy-it's too much for a guy to deal with, right?  They-they have to have someone they can touch."  Her tears fell faster than Hank could catch them now.  He desperately wanted to say the right thing to her.  They had always been scrupulously honest with one another, but always considerate, always thoughtful.

"For some guys it may be a factor, but I do not believe that a man, a good man, a real man, would be bothered in the least.  I do not know if Logan-I do not know."  She gave him a watery half-smile and he knew that it may not have been the best answer, but it wasn't the wrong answer either.  "I admit, I am profoundly glad that I am able to touch you."  In fact, the seeing her face light up at the touch of his ungloved hand was the first time he'd ever been glad for his severe mutation.  "But were I in Logan's shoes, I would be thrilled to have you in my life, regardless of whether we could touch."

"You're a pretty good man," she whispered.  Hank kept caressing her cheek and she tried to slow her tears.  "And I'm really glad you can touch me too.  Would you-can I cry on your shoulder a little?"  The timid grin on her face as she asked it tugged at Hank's heart. 

"Of-of course," he stammered out as she rolled toward him, laying her head on his shoulder, hugging her body to his with one arm around his waist.  After a few moments to recover, Hank put both arms around her and felt her body relax into his.  Remember how this feels.  Remember how good this is.  You may never have her this close again.  Just remember this.




"Hank?"  Her voice on the intercom shook him from his reverie.  "Are you there?"

"Yes," he answered softly.  Yes, my love.  I will always be here for you.  Always.

"Can I come down for a minute?  I've been looking all over for you.  Can we-can we talk?" 

"Of course."  She's going to break my heart. 

"I'll be down in a minute."  And then it will be over, all over.  She'll be gone, out of my life and back into Logan's. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.  He tried to divert himself with more pleasant thoughts.




"I love you," she whispered as their spent, sweaty bodies clung together in Hank's bed.  It was the first time she'd ever said those words to him, and she'd caught him off-guard. 

"Oh," was all he was able to manage in reply.  She stroked his chest gently.  "Marie."  She'd trusted him with her name, with her tender kisses, and with her body.  She'd made herself completely vulnerable with him.  But even so, he'd never expected her to trust him *that* much, enough to love him.

"It's OK.  You don't have to say anything.  I just-I wanted you to know.  I just wanted you to know that, you know, this, us being together was because of that, because of love, not anything else."  She looks so absolutely beautiful just now.  And so fragile.  After everything she's been through, she's trusting me, she's taking a chance on loving me.  That's such a gift.  Such an amazing gift.

"Marie-I-I love you too.  The truth is-the honest truth is that I have for a long time."  Since the minute I saw you. "I never thought you might love me back.  You're-you're so perfect.  A-and beautiful.  And so much better than I could ever deserve or aspire to."  Her hands moved to his face at that and her expression lost all anxiety, softening and warming.  "I love you too, Marie."




"There you are."  Marie bounced down the stairs and into the lab.  Hank tried to muster a smile and failed. Do I want to remember this?  Do I want to fix this in my mind?  It's the last time she'll still be mine. "Are you all right?"  Marie crinkled her nose at Hank's expression and moved to stand beside him, leaning against the desk.

"I'm fine."  Lies, lies, lies. 

"Hey," she said softly.  "Can we talk?" No-not yet.  Don't tell me just yet. She took his hand in hers and smiled at him a little.  Look at me, I can't even manage an answer, just an almost-smile back. "Good.  I know-I know you're probably wondering what Logan wanted to talk about so badly.  He and Jean-they broke up."

"I'm sorry to hear that." More than you'll ever know.  Because I'll never be able to stop loving you.  Not even after you go back to him.  I'll never be able to stop.

She began caressing his hand with both of hers, very gently.  Her gaze fell to the floor and her eyebrows drew together.  Hank knew those were indications that she was thinking something through.  "Me too.  I need to tell you a few things, Hank, OK?"  No, no it's not OK.  Nothing is ever going to be OK anymore.

"OK."

She moved from her position and gracefully folded herself into his lap, stroking his cheek then settling both hands on his shoulders.  "I love you.  A lot.  I know we don't talk about this, but I love you a lot differently than I loved Logan."  Please, stop.  Please don't leave me, Marie.  Please-I'll beg, I'll plead, I'll do whatever you ask.  Please, just don't do this. "Hank, I know-I know you might be thinking that things between us are going to change because Logan and Jean broke up.  But I want you to really listen to what I'm going to say now.  I love you.  I love *you*.  I want to be with you and build a life with you and spend my time loving you."  She paused to let her words sink in.  "I'm not interested in going back to Logan.  That wouldn't work, and it would break my heart to be without you, Hank.  I'm so in love with you." 

"Oh, Marie."  He hugged her tightly to him, almost too tightly.  "Are you sure?"  He didn't want to break from the embrace, didn't want to see her face, in case she wasn't sure.  In case this was all some wonderful hallucination.

"I'm very sure.  I don't want you to worry about anything, OK?  I don't-you don't have to ever feel like you need to be looking over your shoulder because of Logan.  I felt-I felt that way with Jean and I don't ever, ever want you to feel anything that awful.  I just want you to know that it's you-I love you."  They were both shedding a few tears, and she finally broke from his embrace enough to let him see her, to let him gauge the truth of her words.

"OK."  Listen to me, a man of words, of refined expression, and that's the best I can come up with.  He moved his hands tentatively across her back, touching her like he had so many times before, like he knew she liked.  He hoped that would take the place of the words that had suddenly deserted him.  She leaned away from him a little to see his face. 

"Good."  That smile-I want to remember that smile and that look on her.  Always.  It's the first moment that I know she's really mine.  That I can let myself believe it.  "Come on.  Let's go upstairs."  She rose just as gently and gracefully as she had settled.  Hank breathed easily for the first time in fourteen hours. I can believe it, he repeated to himself, it's me.  She chose me.  She loves me.




Logan sat up on the roof, smoking a cigar, one of a limited stock that he reserved for special occasions.  He'd hoped that tonight would be one of the good kind of special occasions, but after several hours of conversation with Marie, he wasn't sure there ever would be another special occasion of the good kind in his life, so he was smoking the cigar anyway. 

How'd I fuck it all up?  Why couldn't I just love her? It had only been that one time with Jean, the one time Marie caught them, but it had been enough.  After finally hashing it all out with Marie today, he knew it wasn't as simple as just cheating, that she took it hard and took it deep.  She took it like somethin' against her when it was really just me bein' fucked up.  Logan hadn't really understood until today that the words she'd said when she left him were true.  It was over.  This was it.  She never wanted to be with him again.  He'd thought she was mad, and hurt.  He'd known it was a blow to her pride, what he'd done with Jean.  Still, he knew she loved him and he thought, given time, she'd forgive him.  But she didn't, she hadn't, and today, she told him she didn't know if she ever could.  Logan, a part of me will always love you, but I don't know if I can ever really forgive you, and I do know I could never trust you again. She'd said those words then said she was sorry.  For all the hours of talking they'd done, Logan reflected, those were the only words that really mattered.  They said it all.

I lost her for good.  Logan took another hit from the cigar, let the smoke invade his lungs, then blew it back out. I loved her, I really loved her.  I love her still.  Why wasn't that enough? He took one more deep drag, and one last look up at the night sky, then went back inside.

 
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