Careless Moment, Lifetime Regrets

by Kerri

Part 11

Jazz made his way down the backstairs into the kitchen, a sheepish look on his face that vanished as soon as he spotted the others. They sat around the table drinking coffee in silence, Angelo giving in to his need for a caffeine fix to brave the coffee maker.

"Mom says we go now," he told them, "we can get breakfast on the way." His eyes rested on Logan, growing hard and flinty. That bastard, in his mother's bedroom, naked.

"I don't have any cash," Jubilee pouted. "Wolvie, can ya spot me some?" Her doe-eyed plea had Logan feeling his pockets for his wallet.

"I've got plenty," Jazz said, "Mom always makes sure of that." He leaned forward, resting his big fists on the table. "I don't have to tell you what will happen if you hurt my mother," he told Logan.

"If y'ain't noticed, kid," Logan said, "yer mother can take care of herself." He didn't bother getting upset, he was invading the boy's turf.

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Ain't none o' yer business."

"She is my business, and I'm not the only one you'll have to worry about, either."

"Get going," Charlotte came down the backstairs. "I called Thomas, he's expecting you." She'd changed into a T-shirt and shorts.

Jazz hugged her, shooting Logan a warning look over her shoulder, then led the way out of the kitchen.

Charlotte poured herself a cup of coffee. They heard the front door close behind the kids.

She sat across from him. He could tell by the look in her eyes the ballbreaker was back. He already missed the soft, passionate woman from last night and this morning.

On the other hand, this one was fun, too, when she wasn't armed.

"Tell me about the scars." No use trying to sweet talk this woman. Even if he could use honeyed words the way the Cajun did she wouldn't appreciate it in her current state of mind.

"Not your business, as you so aptly phrased a moment ago." That clipped British accent was back. It faded in and out with her emotional state, he noticed.

"Ya made a point of tellin' us last night I did that to ya. As I see it, y'made it my business." He'd gotten a closer look at the violated flesh last night and again this morning in the shower. He could clearly see where she'd been wounded by a shrapnel bomb, the burn scars told him she'd been very close when it detonated. It made him sick that it had happened to her, or that he'd had a hand in it. Oddly enough, the scars didn't detract from her appeal, they made her otherwise beautiful body more attractive to him.

It told him she was a survivor. That itself was sexy as hell.

He knew it bothered her from the way she flinched every time he touched the scars. She didn't want anyone to see them. He wondered why. She didn't seem like the vain type, or someone that gave a merry damn about other opinions.

"I had too much to drink last night," she hedged.

"Bullshit." She was lying, he could smell it. It rolled off her in waves.

"You don't remember, there would be no point in telling you."

"Why don'cha help me remember, darlin'?"

"If you must know, it was an explosion. A charge set to blow when a particular door was opened. It wasn't meant for me. You'd disappeared and I took your place. I shouldn't have, Jess was at home with Thomas and I had every intention of just finding you and getting out of there, but you were gone. Hal talked me into it, Fury talked me through it, Thomas patched me up. Happy?"

He glared at her over his cup. All she'd done was give him more questions. "What-"

"Only one question answered every 50 years. Not my fault if you don't choose your questions more carefully. You'll have to wait awhile for the next one."

"Goddamn woman."

"You said that back then, too." She gave him a sunny smile, her mood shifting in direct opposition to his. The accent was gone. "Now, why don't you get your ass out of my house and run along home? I'm sure your friends are all a-twitter over what you've been doing, and your friend Gambit will want to know who won the latest betting pool."

"Fuck him, an' them."

"Oh, please, did you have to say that? That's more than I really wanted to know about your personal life. I'll never get those pictures out of my head now!!" She closed her eyes. "But on the other hand, you know what they say about an unrelated group of people who live together...."

That was enough. She was deliberately trying to drive him out, he might as well oblige her. He could take this matter up another time. He set his cup down. "I'm goin'." He went back upstairs to find his boots.

Charlotte trailed after him, leaning against the doorway to watch. Part of her wanted to lock him in and torture him. The other part, the evil, vengeance-is-its-own-reward side of her, wanted to toss him over the balcony to see if he could fly. A single night couldn't erase 55 years of pain, it just seemed to whet her appetite. For what, she didn't want to think about just yet.

He stood up and looked her in the eye. Her scent told him she was still hurting, but he had to leave before he said or did something he'd regret. He didn't have to go without giving her something to think about, though.

Logan stalked towards her and backed her up against the door jamb, taking a perverse satisfaction at the flicker of fear that crossed her eyes. She was a bit taller, he had an ideal view of her face. And a straight shot at that lower lip again.

Which he took, sucking it between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood, then sliding his tongue in to taste it, and her. She stiffened, then melted against him with a frustrated moan.

Evil, he was pure evil, and he'd roast in hell, but he couldn't resist. He pulled away and left her, dazed and unfocused, whistling his way down the stairs, feeling happier than he had in a long time. He even chuckled.

At the front door he heard an enraged scream and the slamming of a door. Which one, he didn't know, since the bedroom door still leaned up against the wall, barely holding on with a twisted pin. It didn't matter. Mission accomplished.

It was a good start to the day.

End Part 11.

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