Postcards From The Edge

Logan just sat staring at the computer screen for a solid hour trying to process Marie’s monumental news. There had been many events in his life that could be attributed to the worst timing known to man, but this took the grand prize. He should’ve gone home as soon as he realized the effect her scent on those panties was having on him. Instead he’d been a total idiot and slept with a poor substitute. In his aroused state he’d managed to persuade himself she was Marie, but now he couldn’t even convincingly justify that pitiful excuse to himself – so how was he going to rationalize it to her?

While they weren’t officially together, they’d certainly moved their relationship beyond mere pals – they’d masturbated together – only actual penetration got any more intimate. Not to mention the fact that he’d sent her the symbolic heart and they’d exchanged ‘I love you’s’. For all intents and purposes he was ‘off the market’. All they would’ve needed to do was get a license, stand before someone official and have the wedding night to seal the deal. And now he’d probably blown it because he knew he was going to be – had to be – honest with her about what had happened. Logan had a laundry list of things he’d done in his life that he wasn’t proud– ly– lying to Marie was not about to be added to that list.

He knew he couldn’t ignore the message for too long because Marie knew he checked his e-mail regularly. She’d be expecting a phone call, but he couldn’t face hearing that voice that flowed over him like warm honey. He really wasn’t quite sure how’d she take the news of his betrayal – would she be furious, devastated, retaliatory or ‘D’, all of the above? The first two he could deal with, but if she sought revenge by sleeping with….. The thought of her in another man’s arms – another man’s bed. No, he refused to even consider that possibility. He didn’t think Marie was that type of person – chose to believe she wouldn’t seek retribution that way.

But Scooter, that dick, was just looking for any excuse to pay Logan back for flirting with Jean and if Marie went crying to him, he’d probably offer to comfort her and then ….

Logan released the claws and sunk them into the already damaged headboard, imagining the wood was Scott’s lungs. He gave a firm twist before pulling out the three blades and retracting them back into his hand. He could handle Marieng wng with anyone except Scott and if one-eye was stupid enough to lay a finger on Marie he was a dead man, which he realized was completely hypocritical after what he’d done – but he was way beyond rational by this point.

Logan paced the room for an hour, took another shower in some fruitless attempt to wash away his sin, drove around aimlessly for another two hours, bought enough alcohol to host a frat house party and then finally returned to his room where he proceeded to polish off every last drop of the liquor. Unfortunately, due to his healing factor, an hour after that he was completely sober again and the pain the alcohol had temporarily dulled came back ten-fold. He thought it was too bad that he couldn’t simply be struck dead because mourning his death would probably be less painful in the long run for Marie than finding out about his betrayal with Mystique. Logan didn’t need anyone else beating up on him for what he’d done – he was doing a fine job of it all by himself.

He glanced at the clock – it had been too long since he’d received Marie’s e-mail – by now she’d suspect that something was wrong – although she’d be way off in her guess as to exactly what that something was. He knew he’d have to bite the proverbial bullet and make the call that would more than likely destroy his future. He gingerly picked up the phone, started to dial and then hung up halfway through the number. For a brief moment he considered disappearing off the ‘radar’ – breaking all contact with her and simply vanishing, but realized he couldn’t leave her that way - without closure. He’d have to be a man, face her and take whatever punishment she dolled out.

He was sweating and actually trembling as he picked up the receiver and agonizingly slowly dialed her number. The connection was made and he was sorely tempted to back out before she had a chance to answer.

It was too late, Marie answered the phone and was obviously thrilled to hear Logan’s familiar ‘Hey, baby.’ She’d wondered what had taken him so long to call – surely he’d received her e-mail with *the news*. It’s what they’d been waiting for – to be together without having to resort to being creative. It was supposed to be the milestone that signified the turning point in their relationship, when they’d move beyond the pretending to the tangible. There was something in his voice, something off – he didn’t sound as excited as he should’ve been. Maybe for some inexplicable reason he hadn’t gotten her message. But why did he sound so depressed?

“Logan, did you get my e-mail?” Marie asked, cutting right to the chase.

“Yeah, I got it,” Logan responded quietly.

Okay – something was definitely wrong and Marie felt the fear descend over her like a thick blanket of damp fog.

“Logan, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” Marie asked with trepidation – afraid of his answer.

“Oh God, Marie, I did a terrible thing,” Logan choked out.

“Did you badly hurt someone in the cage?”

“I badly hurt someone, but not in the cage.”

“Did you get into a brawl in str street?” Marie asked, trying to imagine exactly what kind of trouble Logan had gotten himself into.

“No. It wasn’t some red-neck stranger I hurt – it was you.”

“Me?” Marie was completely stymied, she had no clue what Logan was talking about, “Sugar, you’re talking in riddles. What do you mean you hurt me? How?”

“Because I’m a complete and utter bastard,” Logan replied.

That failed to shed any light on things and Logan’s cryptic answers were not only mystifying, but also beginning to frighten her.

She swallowed hard and nervously said, “Just spit it out, Logan.”

“I was with someone last night,” he practically whispered.

It was a good thing that Marie was already sitting down because she was certain she would’ve fallen over. There was dead silence as she processed that piece of information. He’d been with someone – someone who wasn’t her. Marie also had the distinct feeling that it was about to get a whole lot worse.

“That’s not all,” Logan started to say, the hesitation in his voice unmistakable.

And she was right. She braced herself for his further exposition, clutching at the fragment of adamantium hanging around her neck as if it were a rosary.

“It was Mystique. She came to me as you and I…” Logan trailed othe the exact words being unnecessary.

Mystique had gone to him disguised as her and he’d somehow been fooled?

“You thought it was me? You couldn’t tell?” Marie asked, praying that he’d tell her his nose had been crushed in a fight, his healing factor was over-taxed and his heightened senses weren’t working properly.

Marie knew that was grasping at straws, because even if all of that *had* been a factor, her sudden appearance in Manitoba should’ve been a red-flag warning that something wasn’t authentic. She wanted so desperately to believe that he hadn’t recognized he was being played and went along with it anyway.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Logan replied with a distinct catch in his voice.

“I love you so much, Marie and if I could take back what I did, I would. All I can do is beg your forgiveness. Please, Marie. I’ve never begged for anything in my whole life – not even for mercy when those bastards were torturing me in the lab,” Logan pleaded, completely broken.

He sounded so crushed. So defeated. But there was also something in his failure to claim that somehow he’d been fooled until after it was too late, which told Marie that even if it was merely a tickle of acknowledgment, he’d known all along it was Mystique.

There was a deafening silence that permeated the line.

“Marie, say something… please.”

“You said you loved me. How could you be with her after telling me that?”

Logan honestly didn’t have an answer for that.

“Go back to her, Logan – it’s the closest you’re ever gonna get to me now,” she said frighteningly calm.

And then Logan was left with the dial tone echoing in his ears.

Naturally he tried calling back immediately and wasn’t surprised when there was no answer, so he logged on and sent her an e-mail.

From: ownerofthetag@hotmail.com
To: keeperofthetag@hotmail.com
Subject: Sorry

Marie,

I’m so sorry, baby. I know you’re pissed at me right now and I don’t blame you.

I love you. Forgive me. Please.

Logan

He wasn’t particularly shocked when even hours later she hadn’t replied. Calling her private line again, he was greeted by her answering machine.

“Hi, I’m not available at the moment, so please leave a message – except for Logan, who can fuck off.”

After the beep Logan left a long rambling message until the tape ran out that he realized was totally pathetic, but he didn’t care – he was absolutely desperate. He then called the main switchboard and asked to be connected to Jubilee and Kitty’s room, figuring she was there crying on their shoulders. Iad had he got their answering machine as well.

“Hi there, this is Jube’s – Kitty and I aren’t available to talk dirty to you in person right now, so at the tone please leave your name, dick size and body parts you want licked.”


With an exasperated sigh Logan hung up without leaving a message. He then went back on-line and bombarded Marie’s mailbox with apologetic notes. Thinking that pounding several loudmouthed idiots would give him something to do for a few hours, Logan headed over to the “Snake Pit Bar”. Unfortunately he was so distracted that he was actually taken down twice before he called it a night. He might heal rapidly, but he certainly still felt the pain – although even that tangible agony failed to dull the acute mental ache he was experiencing. If this was what love did to a person, then love royally - and officially - sucked.

Meanwhile Marie was contemplating who she could go to for a shoulder to cry on – Jubes and Kitty as two two best friends should’ve been the logical choice, but neither one of them could keep a secret if their lives depended on it and Marie really didn’t want the car wreck that was her love life spread throughout the entire mansion like some airborne virus. She couldn’t go to Bobby either, because he’d be devastated that she’d preferred a phone relationship with Logan to an actual one with him. Scott? While he’d certainly be happy to hear it was Marie that Logan had chosen to stay in contact with and not Jean, she already figured his advice would be ‘Forget the bastard.’ Jean? Definitely not. While Jean had been friendly and kind to her since she’d first arrived, they weren’t close in the ‘share confidences over cups of coffee’ kind of way. And then there the small matter of Logan having divulged what Jean had told him about her crush, and to Marie that just smacked of being unnecessary and a tad bitchy on Jean’s part. The Professor was too immersed in the running of the school and protecting the world from evil to have the spare time to worry about one mutant girl’s insignificant romantic problems.

By process of elimination Miss Monroe seemed her best shot at getting a little compassion and understanding. Although with her own dismissal love life, Marie wasn’t sure if she’d get advice from her that would actually be of any use. As the stuffed wolverine that Logan had sent her just wasn’t cutting it, Marie decided to seek out Miss Monroe. At least she wouldn’t just sit there with a blank look like Wolvie junior – well, hopefully not.

Marie found Ororo in the greenhouse tending to her beloved orchids and all it took was the weather goddess casually inquiring as to how she was doing for the dam to burst wide open and for Marie to pour out her troubles. Storm guided her into the kitchen, as this was definitely a ‘we must eat ice cream, and lots of it’ kind of problem.

A pint of Haagen-Dazs and half a box of kleenex later Marie returned to her room. She thought she’d cried it all out, but going into the bathroom to wash her face and seeing the space she’d set aside for Logan’s toiletries made her eyes well up again. It was when she opened the closet to throw her clothes into the laundry hamper and saw the section she’d reserved for him there as well that the full-fledged crying began again.


When Logan heard the familiar drone of ‘You’ve got mail’ he jumped up as if lliollion volts had just passed through him and clicked on his e-mail with a mixture of fear and hope.

To: Ownerofthetag@hotmail.com
From: Sockpuppet@hotmail.com
Subject: Rogue

Do Rogue a favor and leave her alone.

Sock Puppet

{Fuck this shit.}

Logan had had just about enough of this dicking around, and he began throwing things in his duffel bag. He was going home.