The Deal

DISCLAIMER: I do not own X-Men. I do not own Marvel. I make no money, none at all!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: OOOKAY. You guys FINALLY twisted my arm. I got several reviews and several personal emails imploring me to flesh this story out, so-- as always fandom, your wish is my command! There's nothing I love doing more than pleasing Redshippers (unless it's making J & L please each other, but that's going without saying.)

This picks up at the point in "The Deal" at which Scott has not yet come home, but before the "two years later" mark. I will be working up to that. I included that little "on the lawn" spat that happened in 616's 'Gifted,' only with Jean (boo Emma!), as an homage! Plus, it was too hard to resist. Anyway, as usual, reviews are welcome! Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 2: Confession


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Scott came home.

Saying those words in my head makes me cringe, even now.

While he'd been gone, I managed to indulge myself in a little fantasy world with Logan. I'd rid Scott from my head, scrubbed him out, chased his ghosts from my attic, allowed myself to enjoy some of the happiness I'd been denied for so long.

But then he stepped off the X-Jet, greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a, "Hello, wife," and reality fell crashing down around me like a thousand pieces of concrete.

What I'd done suddenly hit home with the force of an avalanche. It stole the breath from my lungs. It pounded in my head. It was all I could do to appear outwardly calm, but my hands were trembling.

No matter what the emotional state between Scott and I was...legally, and in the eyes of the team, he was still my husband. I'd cheated on him.

I'd cheated on him. And not just once. I was aware that I had fully, completely, and knowingly betrayed the faith of our union.

Not only had I cheated on him, I was carrying Logan's child. I couldn't even begin to tell you the emotions that washed over and threatened to drown me when all these revelations started to sink in. I knew how terrible all of it sounded. I knew I sounded like a harlot, a liar.

I guess it was partly true. I guess In some ways I was those things. But I had still had my pride, and it told me what I really knew-- that our marriage had been heading for disaster for some time now, and although this was the worst way I could've possibly ended it, it was an inevitable and foregone conclusion.

I also knew when these revelations came to light, I would be called names and worse. I would have to suffer whispers, sideways glances. I would have to endure the social punishment brought upon me by all the staff and students at the mansion. All these years I'd had the reputation of a saint, as someone abiding and steadfast. In their eyes, I was a wife, not a person. All these years the Phoenix had been struggling to break through. It struggled to reveal me, let me be the woman I really was. I really am.

Now here it was, here was reality facing me at last.

There was no denying it and no avoiding it. There was no other language to articulate it. Emma or no Emma, I had really fucked this up. It was up to me to fix it again.

I stood in the hangar, nervously playing with my wedding band. I'd lost weight in the last week from being so sick, and it was getting looser. I turned it around and around my finger as I watched X-Jet gracefully land and settle. It's sleek shell cracked open to let down a set of stairs. I swallowed hard.

When Scott came down from the plane and greeted me, he stepped back and took a look at me, head to toe. I must've looked terrible. Aside from the morning sickness that had begun greeting me on a daily basis, I felt like I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Scott's a smart man, and he knew immediately something was wrong. That wasn't the bad part. The awful part was his reaction.

It was cold and calculated.

He took one look at my pale face and said, "We can talk about it after dinner Jean. I need to shower."

I spent the next half hour literally being sick.

Wolverine was kind enough to kneel beside me and hold back my hair as I emptied my stomach, but he was so adamant about me going to see Dr. McCoy that I finally kicked him out of the bathroom for some privacy. It wasn't the physical sickness that was burdening me. It was the emotional kind.

Of course, it was Logan's bathroom, Scott was in ours, showering away, unaware that I was about to take our lives and turn them upside down.

I'd been living in Logan's room for the past couple of days, and in the drunken haze of lust, sex, and the giddiness of new love I'd managed to completely whitewash over the fact that Scott was coming back. Then, suddenly, it was Wednesday. There was no avoiding it now.

"Jeannie, you okay in there?" came Logan's worried voice.

"I'm fine Logan," I lied, lying against the wall, ashen faced, staring listlessly at the toilet.

"Are ya sure you don't want me to come along an' help you smooth things over with Summers?"

"YES!" I yelled adamantly through the door. "I don't call a brawl to the death 'smoothing things over' the same way you do."

There was a pause as I heard him chuckle. Then, "Jean, are ya sure, I'm worried about you, y-"

"Logan, leave me alone!" I yelled at him and then, right on time, puked. I choked, staring down at the bowl, wondering if my life could feel any lower than it did at this very moment. "Uggghh," groaned, reaching and patting blindly at the counter for my toothbrush for the umpteenth time.

I could hear Logan pacing outside the door. I knew it drove him crazy to see me in pain and yet be helpless to stop it. I wished there was something he could do, something I could do, something anyone could do, but the confrontation was unavoidable. My head was pounding.

Then, without warning, I heard a voice. Scott's voice. It was polite, detatched, uninterested.

"Logan, have you seen Jean?"

My blood ran cold.

There was a pause, silence.

"Yeah," Logan said reluctantly, his voice muffled through the door. "She's in there. She ain't feelin' too good right now."

That was the understatement of the century.

I heard footsteps coming towards me.

I managed to stand up, and I tried to straighten out my uniform, smooth down my hair. It was useless. I looked awful, and nothing was going to fix it until I got this off my chest. And possibly until I got out of my first trimester so this damn nausea would go away, it wasn't helping things.

"Jean?" I heard. His voice was so familiar, so normal. "Are you in there?"

It was just me, facing the white door of Logan's bathroom. I started at the cracked paint, parts of the wood visible underneath. It was the only protection between me, Scott, and the truth.

With a deep breath, I put my hand on the knob. It turned with a creak.

I opened the door.

"Scott," I said.

There he stood, hands hanging by his sides. He stared at me. His posture was stiff. His face was unreadable.

I remember the way I used to look at him. Even with his visor on, his face had held so much for me-love, trust-things I hadn't seen in a long time. Now, standing there, face to face, I felt the utter lack of connection. All those things that were there, gone. Missing. It was like staring at a stranger.

"Jesus Jean, you look terrible. What happened?" Scott asked, and the concern in his voice sounded forced, false. He put a hand out to touch my shoulder.

I instinctively jerked away from his touch, and he let his hand drop, furrowing his brow.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Let's go to our room where we can talk about this."

"No," I said, my voice shaking a little, and coming out hoarse. "I want to do this here."

I looked beyond Scott, to the dark figure still standing in the doorway.

"Logan, get out."

Reluctantly, Logan slunk away from the doorframe, obviously hesistant to leave.

*I'll be fine* I thought at him crossly. *Stop worrying about me so much, I can handle myself.*

I used my TK to push the door closed. It shut with a click, and then I went and sat down on the edge of Logan's bed. About three hours earlier he'd had me bent over the edge of it doing things that Scott would've blushed even hearing about, but I quickly blocked that thought as he followed me over and sat down. Scott still had some access to my mind, and I was pretty sure that accidentally projecting x-rated images of what I'd done with his teammate and rival wasn't the best way to break the news.

The irony wasn't lost on me, that I was breaking up with my husband while sitting on Logan's bed. In a sick and twisted way it seemed somewhat appropriate. This is what it's come to, I thought. This is it.

Was there ever another way it could've ended? A better way?

I didn't know. Too late now.

There was a silence between us. Despite the loss of love, there still remained a familiarity, a sort of kinship simply because we knew each other too well.

I could see Scott's jaw tighten and then he took a deep breath.

"You slept with Logan," he said simply.

I instantly lowered my head, closed my eyes. Hearing the words out loud stung me. I fought for my voice, swallowed.

"Yes," I said.

"And you think I've been sleeping with Emma."

My eyes flashed open and I looked at him, hard. He was still sitting, expressionless and motionless.

"Have you?" I asked.

He didn't answer. Instead he put his head in his hands and ran his fingers roughly through his hair.

"It's over, isn't it?" He asked, turning to me, and for the first time I heard a trace of emotion in his voice, a trace of sadness. "We're over. It's time to admit it before we hurt each other even more than this."

Hearing that, a hint that he still had any feelings at all for me, the woman he once said he'd once said he'd give the world for, the woman he said 'I do' to all those years ago, made me break down in tears. My vision suddenly blurred, my eyelashes wet. He'd known. He'd known and he'd been prepared for this all along. No wonder he'd seemed so calm.

I couldn't believe that all of it- all of us -the years of cautious flirting, the dating, the wedding, our life together. The shared smiles, the jokes. The late night glasses of wine. The missions. The winks in the danger room. The phone conversations. Our life. All of it had boiled down into a five minute conversation. It seemed so wrong somehow. It seemed so cold.

"I'm so sorry Scott," I said, and in that moment I really meant it. I started to cry, tears leaking out the corners of my eyes and running down my face. "I'm so sorry. To you. To us. How did this happen?"

He didn't say anything for a minute, and he was still refusing to look at me.

"I don't know," He said evenly. "People change. People fall in love, people fall out of love."

I had to bite my lip almost hard enough to bleed before I worked out the courage to say the second part.

"There's...there's...more. There's more I haven't...I haven't told you," I said in a faltering voice.

"What?" Scott asked, and this time he sounded genuinely surprised. I guess he'd known as well as I did that our marriage was dying, and since we were telepathically connected, even the best concealed affair still had afterthoughts that bled through.

In a way, I was kind of hoping he'd have guessed what was coming next too, but it was obvious he hadn't. Would he take it with the same nonchalance he'd just ended our marriage with?

"I...I...I'm," I said, unable to get the word out.

I had his full attention now. I guess that's what it took, I thought bitterly to myself. An affair, and now he suddenly remembers I exist.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to say it.

"Scott I'm pregnant."

Scott stared at me, uncomprehending, and I blurted out quickly, "It's Logan's."

Scott was so surprised that he immediately stood up, looking down at me with shock on his face.

"Jesus fucking Christ Jean? What? Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, starting to get worried. "Look, it wasn't-"

"Didn't you use any protection?" Scott asked in the same tone of angry disbelief. "What happened? You-you didn't even think--- holy shit Jean."

I was crying harder by now, and seeing Scott so agitated was only making it worse.

"I'm on the pill Scott, you know that."

Scott balled his hands into fists and for a split second I was afraid he would hit me. Instead he just turned his back to me and said, a little louder, "So what the HELL went through your mind when you decided to go and fuck that animal?"

I was shocked. I'd never heard Scott talk like this before, never heard him use language that crude before, and it changed something in me. I stopped crying.

"You weren't here for me! He was!" I yelled back at him, standing up so that we were at least on equal ground. "Mistakes happen! It's really none of your business!"

"Not my business? Jesus," He ran his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. His visor was glowing bright, and for the first time in my life I was actually scared of my husband. This was not the man I knew.

"I can't believe it Jean. I cannot...fucking...believe this." Scott said, his whole body shaking. His hands were still knotted into fists, and he was breathing hard. I'd never seen him this upset before, never. I shrunk away a little as he continued, his voice rising.

"I mean I knew you'd always wanted to fuck him Jean! I knew it!" He pointed an accusing finger in my face. "I knew you always wished that I was more like him. But I never thought you'd be stupid enough to go whore yourself out to him like this!"

"Don't, Scott!" I said, my voice much stronger now.

"You heard me Jean! Whore! Because that's what you are to him! That's all he knows!"

"That's enough Scott!" I yelled, anger boiling in my blood. The tears had dried on my face. "How dare you call me that! Ever!"

"Have you lost your mind, woman?" Scott yelled back at me. "It's Wolverine!"

"So what?" I yelled defiantly.

"Do you know who he is? He's a murderer! That's what he does! That's what he was born to do! And when he's not busy killing someone with those fucking claws of his, you know what kind of man he is? You think he's gonna stick around? NO! He's gonna run off like he always does and leave you with your bastard chil-"

"RRRRRRWWWWAAAAR!"

At that moment, Logan literally broke down his own door and tackled Scott so fast it was a blur. Scott went down hard on his back, and in a split second Logan had one hand on his neck and the other lifted high, claws unsheathed, ready to behead my soon to be ex-husband, Scott Summers.

"LOGAN STOP!" I screamed in utter terror and desperation.

My voice made Logan pause just long enough for Cyclops to hit him with a full force optic blast, the kind that can level a building.

Wolverine crashed through the wall, hitting part of the window, shattered glass and plaster flying everywhere. An expression of rage on his face, Scott ran and jumped out the window after Logan. Logan rolled to his feet and jumped into a crouch on the lawn, both claws unsheathed. Scott was running at him full speed, his face determined.

"STOP! STOP IT!" I yelled frantically out of Logan's broken window, and I turned and ran down the stairs, all fatigue momentarily forgotten, and burst out the front doors of the mansion. I hadn't even gotten to the lawn before another wave of nausea and dizziness overtook me and instead of chasing after the two of them I ended up falling to my knees, doubled over, retching on the stone steps of the institute.

I heard footsteps rushing past me as the commotion was heard throughout the mansion. Students rushed out the door, trying to get a look at the fight.

"The teachers are goin' at it again!" I heard someone yell as a crowd began to gather.

"Where's Beast? Where's Emma? Go get another professor!"

"Oh my God look at Wolverine! Shit!!"

"Oh my God! Holy crap! Did Cyclops kill him?"

"Wolverine can't die!"

"When he heals, Cyclops is gonna be a dead man!"

I was struggling to get back on my feet when I felt a pair hands grasp my shoulders gently.

"Hey, Jean... woah, are you okay? Did you just hurl?"

I dizzily looked up to see Kitty, holding one of my arms and looking at me with confused, concerned eyes.

"Are you all right? You're sick?" She asked, puzzled.

"Stop them," I said weakly. It was all I could manage.

Kitty looked at me with slightly scared eyes,

"Jean, it's Logan and Cyclops.. I ... what do you want me to do..?"

Even through the pain and haze, I knew Kitty was right. Her powers couldn't stop them.

I knew whose powers could.

"Help me up," I said to Kitty, and with one arm slung around her shoulders I got to my feet. Taking a deep breath, I lurched towards Cyclops and Wolverine, who were almost certainly going to kill each other in the next six seconds unless I intervened.

"Jean! Wait!" Kitty said, as I picked up my pace.

I staggered off the front steps. Cyclops was running towards Wolverine at full speed, and despite looking gravely injured Wolverine had both sets of claws out and was growling loud enough for me to hear it over the din of the crowd.

As soon as I had a clear view of both of them, I focused.

Using my TK, I wrenched them apart, and they went flying like rag dolls in different directions. They both landed on opposite sides of the lawn, hard enough to knock the breath out of them.

Then with a blink I exercised my power, reached out to their minds, and shut them down.

It's a pretty elementary trick, actually. Something I learned from Xavier when I was a teenager, but I tend to save it for when it's really needed because it takes a lot out of me and I've heard one wakes up with an awful headache afterwards.

As soon as I saw their forms, inert on the lawn, the fight over, I fell to my hands and knees.

Kitty ran to me and helped me up.

"I called Hank. Just relax Jean. It's okay, it's okay, he's coming."

"I need... to lie down," I groaned, and one arm slung around her shoulder, Kitty helped me through the front door of the mansion and into a chair. I collapsed in it, utterly exhausted.

Seconds later Hank was at my side, taking my pulse.

"Jean! You're in no condition to do this kind of thing," he scolded, but he was obviously worried sick over me. He fretted over his wristwatch before jotting some numbers down and putting stethoscope to my chest. "Do you hear me Jean? Deep breath. Good. No more of this! Scott and Logan can take care of themselves, it's not the first time they've decided to play UFC on the lawn, you know."

I tried to respond, but nothing came out. I was literally too tired to speak. All I could manage was, "Nnnnhh."

Kitty was kneeling by my side, smoothing my hair back. I hated that I was causing a scene like this, making so many people worry, but I simply didn't have the energy to move or offer any kind of reassurance.

"It's different now with the baby," Hank continued, chastising me gently as he patted a vein in my arm, and then stuck me with some kind of syringe. I was too tired to wince, or care. "You can't just go running into battle whenever there's an alpha male dispute on the team! I mean it!"

I groaned again in response.

"The baby?" Kitty whispered. Then she said out loud, her face lighting up, "Jean! You're pregnant! Oh my gosh! That's great news! Is that why they were fighting? Is that it? Is Logan jealous?"

Hank looked at me with terrible chagrin. My eyes slipped shut, and I took a deep breath and then opened them again. I could hardly blame Hank at a time like this, even if it wasn't quite the public announcement I'd been planning.

"I'm so sorry, I-I didn't think-" He blurted out, his yellow cat eyes darting back and forth, his furry brow wrinkling. "I forgot we had company. Pardon me Jean, I'm so, so sorry. I-- please forgive me."

"It's okay Hank," I said trying to give him a reassuring look. Then I turned my head weakly and looked at Kitty, who was staring at me with raised eyebrows and a grin.

"Yes, Kitty I'm pregnant," I said. "And no, Logan isn't jealous. He's the father."

As soon at the words were out of my mouth, Kitty's expression changed completely. Her jaw actually dropped completely open. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head.

She sat staring like that for a full minute before she shut her mouth abruptly and said, "Oh."

She continued staring at me, and then said, "Oh. Oh wow."

I didn't have the strength to care.

"I guess that explains, uh, this" Kitty finally said, recoving some, gesturing out the open door. "Guess that really explains it," she muttered.

"Hey! Wolverine's coming to!" I heard Bobby's voice cry out from outside.

Damnit, I thought. My little lights out trick was supposed to last for at least four or five hours. Of course, I'd forgotten about Logan's healing factor.

"Lemme in there! Where's Jean!" I heard gruffly. Logan's voice, of course.

I heard a thump, like he'd fallen, and another voice.

"Uh, Wolverine...uh, maybe you better wait for Hank to check you out, man."

"Yeah dude, Ororo got mad last time you got blood on the carpet. That wound is sick. Just wait here."

"Get offa me," he growled, and there was the sound of worried conversation back and forth.

There were some shuffling sounds outside. I was just clinging to consciousness, my world was fading white and then coming back. Hank's anxious blue face floated in and out of my vision.

"Let me in ya little vermin, I'm fine." Logan said. "Will all of ya just get off my back? Don't you have homework to do or somethin'?" I heard him stumble through the hallway.

A few seconds later, Logan staggered up to the chair I was sitting in. His voice was desperate, his expression terrified.

"Are ya okay Jeannie? Look, I'm sorry, I know I told ya I wouldn't interfere, but when he started sayin' those things to ya, I just-I just-I couldn't control myself."

I knew he meant well.

I knew that his heart was, as always, in the right place.

But while Logan was saying all these things, he was also holding his torso together with one arm. The flesh was cut, bloodstains soaking his flannel shirt and jeans. I could actually see the jagged edges of skin, the parts of his muscles and intestines as they slowly wound around, sealed up, evenly knit themselves back together.

"Jeannie?" he said.

That's when I fainted.