The Deal

There are some things I hate to admit about myself, and one of them is the fact that I've been known to be a snob. I could blame it on a lot of things; being raised in an upper-middle class family, possessing enough power to distinguish the sun-there may have been other contributing factors as well, but the fact remains that I've been known to climb on my high horse from time to time. I used to be one of those people who looked down on single mothers. I would see the younger girls at school who'd gotten pregnant by mistake. Invariably, the father of the child was out of the picture. I'd used words like reckless. Tawdry. Irresponsible. I'd feel pity along with a little bit of spiteful schadenfreude, secretly thinking they'd gotten exactly what they deserved. I never in a thousand years thought it would happen to me. Maybe if I did I would've been a little kinder, more understanding, because now here I was, pregnant and utterly alone. In a sea of people, I was lonelier than I could have imagined possible. I had no one to turn to. Logan had been gone for a seven days, but I had become the gossip of the school overnight. There was no doubt everyone knew about the pregnancy and the circumstances surrounding it now, after our very public fight. No one even bothered to keep it a secret-I heard whispering in the halls, awkward glances and even gawks in my direction. I'd intercepted several notes speculating on the whole situation, from, "I heard they were doing it out in the woods all last semester, Beak said he saw them once!" to "Logan left her because she said she still loved Scott!" I'd even heard a rumor that the students had jokingly taken sides of either "Team Cyclops" or "Team Wolverine." I'd even seen TC and TW scribbled on desks, like a competition. Like it was some kind of funny game. I didn't care to comment on that one. Or think about it any more than I had to. My life was a joke now, it was a circus, I got it. Thanks. Moving on. On the outside, I appeared pretty normal. For those seven long, agonizing days I continued teaching and planning for missions. I was still part of the team. I caught Scott looking at me with concern and pity in his eyes once or twice and almost lost it, but on the surface, I kept it together. On the inside...it was all I was doing just to survive. It took all my energy and fortitude to force myself out of bed in the morning, put on the mask of calm and teach to a class full of snickering, whispering kids. I cried at night, every night. What I was doing in private was sick, and what made it worse was that I knew it. I was still sleeping in Logan's room. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to move out. Everything in there smelled like him. I tortured myself senselessly, breathing in the scent of him on the sheets, wearing his flannel shirts to bed, and even when I touched myself I thought of his hands. The worst part was that I was still so angry at him, so betrayed. I didn't want to be in love, I didn't want it, but my heart wouldn't listen. It was twisted and unhealthy, it wasn't helping me at all, but I didn't know any other way to cope. In a way, I knew I couldn't blame the students for their reaction. I knew they looked up the X-Men like role models, like celebrities. They saw us as the ultimate achievement, the class presidents-the perfect, powerful, attractive mutant poster-children. The fact that I had done something so imperfectly human probably rattled them more than they consciously admitted. It was always upsetting to find out that underneath, heroes were just ordinary people too. I was being punished because I wasn't perfect. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Emma walked up to my desk during a free period. She was really the last person I wanted to see on a good day, never mind when my life had just turned to shit. I ignored her as she stalked towards me in those damn hooker stilettos she seamed to wear around the house. Whatever she'd come for-to gloat about picking the better man, to deliver me pity-I wasn't interested. "Congratulations, Jean," Emma said to me in that irritatingly haughty voice, quirking one carefully waxed eyebrow and laying something down in front of me. "For what, Emma," I asked in a tired monotone. I picked up the magazine she'd laid down before me. It was an Us Weekly. I stared at the cover. It proclaimed that Angelina had caught Brad talking to Jen and there had been a fight on three way calling. Then I looked at the sidebar. There was a picture of my face. I recognized the photo as one we'd done for media publicity several years ago. It was the equivilant of glamour shots-I was in full costume, giving the camera a wink and a sexy smile. It was cheesecake. Underneath, the headline proclaimed, "WOLVERINE IS THE FATHER! More on page 32!" I started at the magazine. So now the whole nation thought I was a whore. I couldn't take it. I just couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for me to handle. I put my head down on my desk, and I started sobbing. I didn't know what else to do, I couldn't hold it together anymore. It was out of my control, it was awful-I was lovesick, lonely, a target for everyone's cruel remarks-I had pregnancy hormones running through me, I woke up every morning and greeted a bucket by the side of the bed-and now this. It was the last straw that. I cried loudly, not caring who heard. I actually forgot Emma Frost was in the room as the tears stained my blotter, blurred the ink on my notes. It was only at the touch of a hand on my shoulder that I looked up into Emma's face. She looked very uncomfortable and confused. She stared at me like she had no idea what to do. I guess she hadn't been expecting this. "Are you happy now?" I asked her, wiping my eyes and seeing the mascara smeared on my hand. I'm sure my face looked like a disaster. "Are you happy now? Is this the fucking greastest day of your life Emma? Are you and Scott going to toast champagne glasses now?" Emma didn't reply for a moment. "Jean darling..." she began hesitantly, and stopped. "I..." she said, and her voice sounded different, more uncertain. "I hope you haven't been taking my attempts to discredit you too seriously," she said. "It's not...it's not what I meant." "Oh yeah?" I asked, tears angrily spilling out of my eyes. "My mistake. As if stealing my husband wasn't enough-here I was thinking you were just waiting for me to walk around with a scarlet letter on my chest and be the laughing stock of the school and you finally got your chance." "No, you misunderstand," Emma said, and then she silently knelt down, until her face was closer to mine. "I... I... was not always the woman you see now before you," she began. I didn't say anything. Jesus, Emma trying to make me feel better, I must be a complete train wreck. I wasn't crying as hard, but I was breathing in little hiccupping breaths. "In fact Jean...I was ugly. I know that's very hard to believe seeing me now, but it's true. In order to get to where I am now...to become who I am now, I had to do everything to claw my way from the top. I had the finest surgeons, the best tailors, the trainers of the stars and the most expensive and elite skin treatments and anti-aging elixirs." "And that's supposed to make me feel better somehow?" I asked. Emma ignored me and continued. "I came here, to the X-Men, and I saw you. You had Scott, you had a whole team in love with you. You threw your hair around, you sashayed your way about in that tight little uniform and... you didn't even have to try. You had the world at your fingertips and you never appreciated it, not one bit." Her tone was unapologetically disgusted and bitter. I was not aware that I had sashayed, ever, but somehow Emma's comments were actually making me feel better. "But I digress, Jean," she said. "The point is... I would've given anything...all my wealth, all my power, anything...to have Scott Summers look at me the way Logan looks at you." There was a silence between us. I really was taken aback by this comment. It took a few seconds to realize that in some small way, Emma had in fact just bared her soul to me. Why, I wasn't sure, but I was still grateful for it. "Thanks Emma," I said quietly. "Yes, well," Emma said quickly and loudly, "I simply had to say something to make you feel better Jean, I'm afraid I'd get the blame if you'd impaled yourself on a fountain pen or some such nonsense after I'd left in the room. Don't expect something like this to happen again." And with that she stood up and did a short turn on her heel before glancing back. "Ever!" She marched out the door. I sat there, wet notes and a crumpled copy of a tabloid in front of me, feeling strangely comforted. A second later I heard a knock at the door. "Do you want your gossip magazine back?" I called, just as Kitty opened the door and walked purposefully in. She didn't look too happy. Actually saying she didn't look happy was the understatement of the year. She looked as if she was carrying an entire thunderstorm in with her. "What are you talking about?" she asked in an annoyed tone. "Oh," I replied, hoping my face didn't look too puffy from the crying. I knew Kitty was part of the team, but I couldn't help thinking of her as one of the students, I'd known her still she was a teenager. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Emma." "Thanks a lot," she said with sarcasm, and sat down, a determined look in her eyes. "You look angry about something," I commented, stating the obvious. "Really. Well, you're damn well right Jean," she said. "I've seen Logan." The words sent a shock through me, but I managed to remain composed. "Oh?" I asked casually. Kitty practically leaped out of her chair. It was not an expected response. "Oh?" she cried. "That's what you say? Oh?" I looked at Kitty, hard. Kitty Pryde was generally a smart, sensitive girl, but she was obviously seething about something right now and it seemed to be directed at me. It was not characteristic of her at all. "Okay, what am I supposed to say?" I asked her, playing the passive-aggressive card since I wasn't sure what this was all about. I liked Shadowcat a great deal, considered her a good friend and loyal teammate, but I was really, really not in the mood to be argued with. "How about asking me where I saw him," she countered, words razor sharp. "Fine, where did you see Logan?" I asked. "Funny thing Jean. I saw him last night, when I was taking an exit off the Intersate. He was lying on the side of the road puking his guts out. I'm glad I saw him in the headlights, or he'd probably be waking up in the morgue this morning scaring the hell out of some technician." "What?" I asked, shocked. "Do you know how much alcohol it takes to make Logan sick, nevermind make him pass out?" Kitty asked me accusingly. I didn't answer; she knew as well as I did. "So he's out getting drunk to deal with his problems, that's great to know," I said, rolling my eyes. "Will you get off your fucking throne Jean? You're killing that man!" Kitty yelled at me. I was so shocked that she'd just yelled at me I didn't say anything at all. She continued, voice shrill. "Maybe you know Logan better than I do, but I know a side of him you probably don't see. All these years, all I've heard is Jean Grey this Jean Grey that. I just want Jean to be happy. I can't stand seeing her cry. I don't matter, it's Jean that matters." "Well if I matter so damn much, why is he gone?" I retorted. "I really don't think you understand what I'm saying," Kitty hissed through her teeth. "Logan has had some of the most horrible things any human or mutant has ever endured happen to him over his lifetime. He's been shot, stabbed, burned alive. He's had his wife murdered, lost countless friends and loved ones. But if I ranked the top five things that have wounded him the most deeply, they would all be you." "Me? Why the hell would they be me? What have I done that beats getting burned alive exactly?" I asked, annoyed that I was being accused of a crime I knew nothing of. "He LOVES you, for some reason I'll probably never understand," Kitty said, eyes flashing. "The day that you and Scott got married...God, he was a mess. But he kept quiet because he knew it was a big day for you. And I've had to stand by for years and watch you tease him like some kind of junkyard dog. Poking him and prodding him and giving him a little taste then always backing up, out of reach. You're sick!" I was totally silent at this point while Kitty continued on her tirade. She obviously had a lot to get off her chest. This was not something she'd thought up overnight; it had been building for years. "You weren't there to see him afterwards, all those times you hurt him Jean! You didn't deal with it! You didn't see the expression on his face. You didn't see the way he covered up all his pain with jokes and lies and booze. I hated you Jean, I HATE you for it. What you did to him-it's cruel!" She took a deep breath. "Why's he gone? He's gone because he thinks you don't want him here. He's trying to act in your best interest and he's destroying himself in the process. I know he's got a healing factor but even that doesn't make him immortal. You are killing him Jean. And if he dies, it's going to be your fault. You'll be a murderer Jean, without even lifting a finger." She stopped talking. It was certainly a heavy load she'd just unburdened onto me. In some part of my mind, I began to feel terribly guilty. I'd always just thought the flirtation between Logan and I was innocent, something to be enjoyed from time to time. I never realize I'd been pushing him so far, playing with him so callously. Suddenly, the encounter our first night in the woods had made more sense. His reluctance, then his dogged return to me night after night, even as I left him and went back to bed with Scott. I began to feel very sick inside and it had nothing to do with pregnancy. "Look Kitty," I said, laying my hands out on the desk. "I love him, all right? I can't stand having him gone. Every single day I wake up and I regret what happened. But he lied to me, he betrayed me, he-" "Got you pregnant on purpose? That's the rumor I've heard anyway. Jean, did you ever really think that through?" Kitty questioned. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well I don't know what form of birth control you were using, but I'm guessing you guys weren't discussing that back then. I'm guessing he just assumed you knew what you were doing, and if he knew it was a fertile time of the month, he probably figured you had it covered." I sat and thought about that for a second. "It takes two Jean, you of all people should know that. He didn't force himself on you, and he didn't... I don't know...replace your pills with tic tacs or poke holes in all your condoms or whatever. Did he?" "No..." I said, and I was slowly feeling both guiltier and more panic-striken at the same time. "This is what you do Jean. I've seen you do it a hundred times. You create these messes and then you leave them for other people to clean up. I'm tired of it. He's a person, not your pet. He's got feelings, just like the rest of us. You can't dump him by the side of the road and then go into this 'woe is me' routine. Other people may buy it but I'm not. I'm his friend." "I want to see him," I said, suddenly, quickly. I hadn't even known it was going to pop out of my mouth but it did. "That's the first smart thing I've heard you say in a long time," Kitty replied. Her words stung, and a part of me got mad, but another, bigger part decided to ignored it. "Where is he?" I asked, worried. I imagined him lying by the side of the road, crawling down stretches of empty highway, punishing himself for his crimes. It was not a pleasant vision, and having been the source of Logan as martyr really didn't make me feel better. "He's currently knitting himself back together at the Dew Drop Inn, cheap place next to that truck stop by the paper mill." I knew the place she was talking about; it was a rough part of town. "And I do mean knitting himself together. He was so messed up by the time I hauled him into my car he didn't even know who I was. He's lucky I found him first and not Weapon X or Magneto or somebody. God knows what would've happened to him then." I said nothing. Kitty gave me a dirty look. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to haul 300 pounds of bloody adamantium into a Toyota? Never mind what my back seat looks like now?" I looked down, an expression of terrible guilt on my face. "Can you arrange a meeting?" I asked. "Tell him I'm going to see him?" "Yeah," Kitty said. "I can. But don't screw it up, because this is the last time I'll help you with something like this. You need to stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself all the time and be appreciative of what you have. Logan is a great man. The best." "I know," I said, "I know... I just..." "He can be an idiot, yes. He makes some really dumb mistakes sometimes, and he says things that make me want to strangle him, but for some reason he's stuck to you like white on rice. He thinks you're the greatest damn thing since sliced bread, and good luck finding another man like that, ever again." I realized what she was saying was true. Maybe that's what had been missing with Scott. We were together because it seemed right--- two mature, well-mannered, successful adults. But though he'd loved me, I never got the sense that I was irreplaceable to him. In fact, sometimes I got the sense that it had just been the right place and the right time, and I just as easily could have been some other pretty, smiling girl who he swept off his feet and took to the altar. "Let's go," I said to Kitty, standing up from my desk resolutely, all my tears and hopelessness forgotten. "What, now?" she asked, surprised. "Yep. I've been foolish about this for long enough. I'm ready. I've got to see him. You're driving." Kitty stared at me, and her eyes softened a little, and I saw something that might have been admiration. "Maybe what Logan's been saying about you all these years... well... maybe there's something to it," Kitty said to me. "Peace, Jean?" I took her hand. "Peace, Kitty. I can't say I liked getting chewed up and spit out like that, but I needed it. I've been drowning in self pity lately and I don't know how far under I would've sunk without your honesty." Kitty smiled at me. "All right. Follow me. We'll get you to the canucklehead in no time, I promise." As I followed Kitty out the door, for the first time in seven days, I felt all right.