TITLE: Reversal
AUTHOR: Jengrrrl
EMAIL: rogue22@x-men.com

Series: The Big Crunch
Rating: R, for strong, strong language
Category: Angst, Logan POV
Spoilers: None
Summary: Logan, vodka, tequila, and rum. 'Nuf said.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine at all. I just play with them sometimes.
Continuing from "The Arrow of Time," "Light Reflected," "Time Warps," "Black Hole," "Expanding Universe," "Temporal Extremities," "Chaos Theory," and "Universal Distortions"
Archive: Ask me first please, unless I've already said yes. Then, go ahead. Story, and series, archived at Disquieting Muses: http://www.oocities.org/jengrrrl2000
E-mail: Rogue22@X-Men.com :)
Feedback: Please feed the monkey (that would be me)

I feel a sickness in my body, like I'm about to throw up. And I don't throw up. I don't get sick. But I'm sick now. I'm sick of myself, I'm sick of this school, and I'm sick of this goddamned back-and-forth with Rogue. Fuck it. I'm sick of everything.

I need a drink, is what I need. I make my way from my room and into the kitchen, deliberately avoiding Her room or Jean's room. I don't need to see either one of them. Not now.

Some punk-ass kid glares at me as I walk by him. He purposefully knocks into me and, feeling the way I am, I know he's in a danger of getting a claw through his eye. Kid's lucky I've got more self-control than I show.

Rogue. Damn. No I don't.

Once in the kitchen, beer doesn't seem to be good enough. I need something harder, so I reach for a bottle of vodka hidden in one of the cabinets. I don't normally touch the stuff, but I need something to burn this ache in my throat.

I take several swigs straight from the bottle and let myself sick onto the floor. I sit, cross-legged, nursing the bottle, hoping the warmth the liquor provides can do something to alleviate the pain in the pit of my belly. It takes a lot for me to get drunk, but I fully intend to get shit-faced tonight.

I'm chugging the stuff now and...fuck. Do all roads lead to this fucking kitchen? I go back to my bottle because I don't want to talk to this asshole now. Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away.

"Logan."

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Logan, what the hell are you doing?"

Go away, dick. "What's it look like I'm doing? Or can't you see through that eye of yours?"

He starts coming towards me and I can feel the rage building inside of me again. "Stay back, Summers," I warn.

He stops but doesn't move back. "It's important."

"What the fuck isn't? I don't care."

Sighing, he crosses his arms over his chest. Dumb prick doesn't know what's good for him. "It's about Jean."

Oh. Jean. In that case... "Get out!"

Now he's angry. Good. I was angry twenty minutes ago. "Stay away from her, Logan. I'm not kidding about this. I don't care if you have to leave the school. She's mine. Do you hear me?"

I get up and realize that drinking a full bottle of vodka isn't without its effects. "She's yours, huh? Well, Cyclops, if I wanted to fuck her, there wouldn't be much you could do."

He pushes me with a force I don't expect. I guess I underestimated the guy. My head's swimming a little, and I don't really feel like getting up again. Otherwise, he'd have a claw through his neck for that. Shit. Maybe I deserved it.

I see him reach for his glasses and stop. Then he turns right around and marches out of the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he says, "Keep drinking, Logan, if that's what gets you through the night."

"Keep your philosophical bullshit," I call after him, feeling real good about myself for getting the last word.

But "keep drinking" doesn't sound so bad. So, I do. Let's see. A bottle of... Rum? Too sweet. Tequila? Why not.

Drinking is a comforting activity. Just you and your bottle and warm liquid goodness. I could drown in this stuff. I wish I could.

Hm. Why does Xavier keep so much damned alcohol in the school? Maybe that's why he's always so serene. He always has a shot of something stiff before facing the supervillains. Ha ha. Xavier the drunk. Nah. Maybe it's One-Eye's stash. Or Storm's. The day either of those starts keeping alcohol is the day I turn pansy.

Fuck. Who am I kidding? I already am a pansy. What are you thinking, Logan? You thinking you want to go up to her room and apologize, aren't you? Tell her you didn't mean it. What else you want to do?

You want some more of this shit, is what you want. No more vodka? Rum it is.

My life used to be... Well, it was crap. But it was uncomplicated crap. Now, what? Now, I have to deal with peoples' hurt feelings, and apologies, and guilt, and... Peoples'? Naw, just Hers. Fuck.

'S not so bad. Should take her some of this stuff to drink. That way she'll feel better.

Wonder if she's in her room.

Stairs are hard to take. I keep tripping over them. I have to be careful though. I have to make sure I don't spill any of the rest of the rum. That's for Marie. Magic potion for Roguey.

Ah, the door. "Rogue? Rogue? You in there?"

I pound on it 'cause I don't think she can hear me. "Rogue!"

The door creaks open and her pretty, little face pops out. She squints at the light. "Logan." Yup, she's fully awake now. I don't appreciate doors slammed in my face.

Before she has a chance to lock it, I force my way in. I shut the door behind me and hold up the bottle. "Magic potion," I say.

All she says is, "You're drunk."

Mighty keen observer, my Rogue. "Yes," I say. "But also quite happy. Have some and be happy with me, baby."

"Get out."

God. There's that nightgown of hers again. Sheer. Maybe if she's happy, she'll let me touch it. "Please, have some, darlin'. I just want you to be happy."

She starts to shake her head, stops, and then sort of blinks at me. "If I have some, will you go away?"

Hell no. "Yeah."

She takes the bottle and puts it to her lips. Bottoms up.

"God, Logan, rum?"

"And vodka and tequila."

"Oh."

I start moving towards her and her gown. "But it's the magic stuff. Aren't you happier?"

She turns around and says, "You should go." She says it low, soft. Fuck, but that voice of hers kills me. And that ass...

"Rogue." I hug her from behind, just to feel her up against me. I must've surprised her, 'cause she stiffens up and pulls away.

My head isn't swimming so much. I can almost feel the alcohol being expunged from my system. It's not good. Being drunk one second and not the next. Especially when you find yourself in the room of the one person that caused you to pick up the bottle in the first place.

"Uh..."

She turns around and there's that face of hers again. Those lips... Moving, saying something: "I thought you were leaving."

I move my hand through my hair, scratch an imaginary itch at the back of my neck, just to give myself something to do. "I... No. Did I say I was leaving?"

"You said--"

She's getting irritated, so I interrupt. "I know what I said." I let out a breath, trying to find the words. I want to say something to her, but I can't think of the words.

Then, I watch her get into her bed, pull the covers over her head. Damn. She says, "I'm tired, Logan. I don't want to do this now."

She's tired. Oh. Well that should be enough, shouldn't it? That's my cue to exit. Marie's tired. If I was any kind of decent person, maybe I would leave. Maybe.

Instead: "Rogue," I murmur, as I sit on the bed next to bundle that is her body. I put my hands on her. "I'm not leaving."

I hear her say something, but I can't quite catch it. "What?"

Her mouth pops out. "You're an asshole."

I smile. I can't help it. I am an asshole. "That's the one universal truth, baby."

"We can't fix it, Logan."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you."

Shit. That hurts. I didn't think it would hurt so much. "No, you don't." Please God, don't let her.

She sighs. "All right. I don't." The bundle turns over and those deep, brown eyes are staring into my own and I feel like Magneto's around, 'cause I can't move my body. "So what are you doing here? What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be happy." And I do. I want her to be happy, and normal, and to love a goddamned boy her own age, and to be able to have all the things she ever wanted.

"I am happy." The determination in her face when she says it. She wants to believe it so badly. I want to believe it too.

"You're happy now?"

"No. I'm not happy right now." She lowers her eyes and the weight of her stare is lifted. I can move again. "I meant, in general. In general, I'm happy."

"You mean, like the years I was gone you were happy, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe I was content."

I draw closer to her, because I can't help it. She must've retained some of Metalhead's powers. "What would make you happy, Marie?" I want to know. I want to do it.

"I don't know." God. Is she crying?

"Please. Tell me, please. I want to help you. I want you to be happy."

She is crying. She's sobbing now. I'm such a bastard. "I don't want your pity, Logan. Not you."

Pity? Hell. "I don't pity you, Rogue. Look at me. I don't."

I'm curled up right next to her now. How'd that happen? Our faces are inches apart. Her breath tickles my nose. "Why'd you do it?" she whispers.

"Do what?"

Her eyes close and I feel like I can breath more steadily than when she stares at me. "Tonight. Why'd you do it?"

"I'm sorry," I say lamely.

She still doesn't open her eyes. "I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you to tell me why."

" 'Cause I'm an asshole." I laugh, but the sound is hollow and she isn't laughing along.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? Because. I wanted to." And it starts to spill out because I'm in her bed and her body is next to mine and I can't think of a reason to stop. "I wanted to get back at you, for thinking all I wanted was to get into Jean's pants." She flinches a little, but I can't stop. "There isn't a real reason, Rogue. Yeah, I was angry. I was frustrated. But I just wanted to touch you. That's it."

"Why'd you run away?"

I put a hand at her shoulder, relieved to see she's not moving away. "I...I didn't want to look at you. I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn't want to leave."

"Now?"

I push her towards me, so that our bodies are touching through the blanket. "I want to look at you. I want you to look at me."

She moves down and presses her forehead into my cheSt. I can feel her head bob up and down as she talks. "I'm tired. I just...I want to sleep. Stay?"

"Yeah." And she tosses and turns a little until she's comfortable. She's facing away from me and her body is connected to mine, through the blanket. I'm not sleeping. I can't. I promise myself, if I'm not gone by 2 am, I'm waking her up. I won't care if she's tired.

Archivist's Note: The next story in this series is Atom.