As the rain fell quietly during the dark night on the Campus of Xavier’s school for higher learning two solitary figures walk in an embrace from the back porch. They pass through the farthest outreach of the Japanese gardens, pausing under a tree to share a kiss, and then proceeding down a small hill to a boathouse on the shore of Spuyer Devil Cove, on the bank of Breakstone Lake.

As the two enter the small boathouse, a series of lights can be seen quickly turning on and then off as the two lovers move to the bedroom. Looking back at the mansion a single figure can be seen at a first floor window cast in shadows. As the final lights in the boathouse are extinguished the figure could be seen leaving the window of the mansion, returning to the darkness.

Early the next morning, in the boathouse on the grounds of Xavier’s Institute for higher learning. Logan stands balanced in the windowsill of the bedroom, window open, feeling the falling rain swept by wind, cascade across his face. In the room, sleeping entangled in the sheets, her crimson hair splayed across her back and the bed, lay Jean Grey, the woman he loved, yet he could not rid himself of a sense of guilt over what he had done the previous night.

Rising out of his crouched position he stepped from the windowsill, taking in the room. Scattered across the floor lay his faded jeans and gray t-shirt, her jeans a sweatshirt and a t-shirt embroidered with words University of Anchorage athletics lay in a ball next to the bed, her bra on the lampshade next to the bed, her panties in a ball near the window. Two empty bottles of beer sat on the nightstand, next to the alarm clock.

The room was filled with her scent, just as intoxicating as ever. In the bed she was a vision of unadulterated beauty. Her crimson hair, her body so sleek and smooth, muscular but unequivocally feminine. As he watched her sleep, her body rising and lowering peacefully he wished only that she would open her eyes so that he could see her beautiful emerald eyes look upon him. He wanted to see her smile, to hear her laugh. Picking up his jeans he moved to the doorway opening it quietly so as not to disturb her he slid through the door and padded on bare feet to the kitchen pulling on his jeans he began to make a pot of coffee.

As the coffee maker burped forth its black liquid he gazed quietly out the window onto the Cove, pulling a slightly worse for wear cigar from his pocket he clenched it between his teeth and lit it with a match that he struck on the countertop. Inhaling the sweet essence of the cigar, he moved to the large sliding doors that opened onto a small covered porch sliding through them he sat on a moist wooden chair looking onto the lake as the falling rain rippled its once calm surface. He began to question himself as to what had happened last night. His keen sense of hearing picked up the sound of the bedroom door opening again, he could hear her moving on bare feet to the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of coffee. He could not only hear her but also smell her as she appeared in the doorway, clad in her jeans and the t-shirt. Leaning against the door jam steam emanating from her cup. They remained in peaceful silence for a moment.

The silence was shattered by one soft word from Jeans lips. “Hi.”

“Hiya darlin.” Logan replied quietly.

Jean walked behind Logan, placing her left hand at the back of his neck she ran her slender fingers through his hair. The sensation was ecstasy to Logan. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, taking in the moment. Jean moved from behind him to the chair next to him, sitting down she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs clenching the coffee cup with both hands. Logan had chin to his chest, looking at the wood on the deck.

Raising his head he turned to look at Jean locking eyes, they both stared at each other, Logan gazing at her bright emerald eyes, Jean looking at Logan’s Crystal Blue eyes. They remained in this position for a moment eyes locked on each other, before Logan ended the blissful silence.

“Jeanie, we gotta talk bout last night.” He said softly.

“Yes we do, but later, lets just enjoy this moment.” Jean replied softly. Turning her gaze back to the cove.

“Okay, Red.” Logan whispered, also turning his gaze to the cove but not before noticing a thin smile on Jean’s face, maybe last night wasn’t a mistake after all he thought. Lyrics to another Van Morrison song played in his head.

The rain continued to fall on the property of Xavier’s School for the gifted. On the eastern side of the campus two individuals sat on the porch of the boathouse, they sat in silence staring at Lake Breakstone. Finally after an hour and half Logan lifted his head, turning towards Jean and spoke.

“Jeanie darlin, I know we have to talk about this, and I’m fine with talking about it later, but I need to get out of here. I need to take a ride and clear my head.” He quietly commented.

“I understand Logan…go, do what you have to.” She choked out. “I knew you would need to do this. Just please come back.” She whispered.

Standing in the doorway Logan looked over his shoulder and quietly commented “Don’t worry Darlin, I’ll be back.” With that he strode through the inside of the boathouse, leaving through the main door quietly he strode slowly across the wet lawn towards the mansion.

As he approached the mansion he saw the evidence of how the previous night had began, over a case of empty beer bottles sat on a small wicker table. The reminder was not what he had needed to see at this moment, he reached down picking up the letter he had written to Jubilee. He walked into the kitchen; passing through it quickly he reached the stairs and slowly started ascending the staircase when a voice called from behind him.

“Logan, I think we need to speak about what happened last night.”

“Listen Chuck, what happened last night is none of your concern, just leave it at that.” He growled at the older man.

“I suppose it isn’t, but none the less I do not approve.” He said with a tone of authority.

“I wouldn’t have thought you would. Still ain’t you concern.” Logan replied, turning to continue up the staircase effectively ending the conversation. The Professor turned quietly and returned to his study without any further comment.

A short while later again strode down the staircase, walking out the front door he walked to his jeep climbed in and started the engine. With a roar the engine started, he popped it into gear and sped off through the front gate. Watching from the front door, Jean wiped tears from her face.

Jean sat in her room staring out her window, had last night really been a mistake? She had loved waking and seeing Logan, his smell throughout the boathouse, even the smell of those wretched cigars. But why had she done it, she loved Scott and she always had, yet last night with Logan had been special. She was kicking herself, she had scared him, and she knew he would leave, she knew it deep down, and now the only question was would he return or had she just lost one of her closest friends. She wished that there were someone she could talk to, she wished that she would see Logan’s battered Jeep come roaring up the driveway. She also wished that she could feel Scott’s thoughts there in her mind again.

Charles had tried to talk to her about what had happened last night but it had come off as a lecture. She didn’t need a lecture she needed someone to listen to her, their had been so few she trusted to do this in her life. Ororo, she was like a sister to her and Ororo always seemed to know when to speak and when to listen. Scott, he was her love, he was always willing to listen to her. Logan, he was one of her truest friends, he would listen and say what he meant, what he felt, and she had scared him away.

Somewhere on the New York Thruway, a battered old Red Jeep sped along its driver lost in contemplation.

Had it been stupid? Why had he given in to his animal urges? She was drunk and vulnerable and he had taken advantage of her. He knew she loved Scott, and always would, and he would always be the fallback, the friend. While he hadn’t been ok with that in the past he had accepted it, but last night he hadn’t been second fiddle. For the first time ever he had felt that she had loved him the way he loved her, unconditionally.

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM

He slammed his fist on the steering wheel and stared off into the distance, now he was just confused, he would not, could not go back to being second fiddle. He felt he was going to lose the woman he loved, lose her not only as a lover, but also as a friend.