FIC: (R) 1/3 Broken Mirror III - A Revelation To Death
- Broken Mirror III: A Revelation To Death - 1/3
By Kes Serleef
Rating: R for some violence, and a PG-13/R for sexuality
Warning: This part contains major angst. Towards the end there is some
violence, but it really is mild in my opinion. I would normally rate
it a PG-13, however, I am not everyone, so I'm taking precautions.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the "X-Men" or any of its
characters. That privilege belongs to Marvel, Fox, etc...no
infringement on copyright is intended. Please don't sue me.
Archive: Yes, but please ask me.
Author's Note: There will be a happily-ever-after ending to this
Earlier parts of the series can be found on my site at:
Summery: Marriage is bliss. Temptation leads to hell. Hearts are
broken. Read on....
Jean heard his door open and close.
She laid sleepless and restless in a bed in a room that wasn't
theirs, staring up at a shadowed white ceiling distorted by the blur
of her tears.
She was listening for signs that he was still alive and well.
She laid there like she had every night for the past four nights
when her husband had discovered the events that were ravishing her
Four days since the discovery, and just six days since she had chosen
the path to hell.
Which meant that just seven days ago she had been relatively happy
oblivious to what real torture was.
She never saw him anymore.
They lived in the same house, but she couldn't say what he looked like
since that day when everything went to hell.
They didn't speak. They barely even looked at each other.
It ate at her like a cancer but it was a cancer developed through
reckless actions. So, if the pain was sometimes more than she could
bare and made her question if she was losing her mind, she figured it
It's the only reasoning that let her survive in this state. She
thought it was a fitting punishment.
She sat up and shakily climbed out of the bed.
She had to see him.
In the face of his contempt in the face of images and thoughts of
his disappointment and anger projected so strongly it left her shaken
and destroyed her ability to block them she had to see him.
She went to the closet and reached for a robe. As she turned to leave,
she caught a glimpse of a shadowed reflection in the mirror,
illuminated by the silver stream of moonlight filling the room.
She turned away, too quickly for the image to fully register.
She tried to avoid mirrors as much as possible these days. They were
just too telling about truths that were painful to face at the moment.
Scott was leaving.
One day at a time, step by step that's how he had been trying to
live the imitation that had become his life in the last four days.
He'd tried to get through this but how do you get through something
like this when the two who had destroyed your life were sleeping
maybe together right down the hall.
He'd tried to ignore their presence but he was human.
Not knowing that they both slept within reach and that he was impotent
to kill and hurt in the myriad ways that ran through his mind a
million times a day.
There were thoughts that entered his head that left him sick, that
changed his perception of who he really was but just the same, it
was getting harder not to carry them out.
He was afraid.
It was that simple.
If he stayed any longer things were going to happen that he couldn't
For him, it was a matter of control, and it was becoming a constant
struggle to find it, and with every second that ticked by, he had to
fight not to lose it.
He couldn't just ignore the situation anymore.
He hadn't spoken to either of them hadn't really looked at them in
nearly four days.
He couldn't. Every time he thought of the man who had fucked his
wife, a red haze washed over him and he wanted to kill.
As for Jean, he knew just one look one real look would unravel
The wound was just still too raw. He had to leave.
As he turned to leave the room he'd occupied since that day when the
foundation of his life had deteriorated, he thought about the
beginning that had led to the end.
He smiled ironically, as he had many times since, at how the seemingly
small things are the ones that can change your world in the biggest
It had started with something...
Just a crumple ball of white behind the wastebasket of Jean's office.
But something had made him reach for it some instinct made him pick
Maybe it was because it was so out of place in the otherwise spotless
Maybe it was because, on some level, he'd realized it was the remnants
of the only evidence connected to whatever had kept Jean distant and
restless those past two days...and nights.
He'd wanted to know what had kept her down there in the lab rather
than in their bed next to him.
It had been so insignificant, but something had made him reach for
it...and then he'd wished he hadn't.
Some part of him wished that he could have just ignored his curiosity
wished that he could have ignored those anal retentive tendencies
that were so inbred in his personality wished that once having
picked it up, he could have just thrown it away.
But he hadn't.
Instead, he had held that crumpled ball of white in the palm of his
hand and contemplated it for long seconds, afraid. Some buried
instinct had known that the seemingly innocuous piece of paper was
going to change things. He had contemplated it, letting the idea of
his life somehow changing sink in, before resignedly unfolding, then
reading the words that ended his life as he knew it.
To this day some part of him wished that he could burn away the memory
of words that were etched forever in his head.
Some part of him wished .
But another part, a self-destructive part, had rejoiced in the
knowledge that part was glad to know.
He had suspected.
He'd smiled then, as he did now, at the irony when he remembered the
words she had written.
Memories couldn't be erased.
A part of him had been waiting years for this to happen. The other
shoe had finally dropped and it'd made a hollow echo in his heart.
He had waited for it to happen, and yet he hadn't quite believed...
He remembered throwing back his head and laughing. His world had been
broken in no more than a few minutes.
All because of something so small and seemingly insignificant.
He'd stepped through the door of Jean's lab that afternoon with his
belief of all that was good in his world firmly intact. When he had
left, he had no longer been the person he was just less than thirty
minutes after entering.
He had left that office a different person.
He closed eyes hidden by the shield of red visors at the memory,
shutting the door on a life he no longer recognized.
Logan went to her that night.
He went to her prepared to explain how he had taken those first steps
on a path to hell and away from her.
He went to seek forgiveness for an act that had been unforgivable.
He told himself that he was ready for whatever reaction he got. He was
ready to see her hate, her anger...her hurt.
He told himself that he was ready to look at a face more precious to
him than his life, twisted with the bitterness of betrayal.
He told himself that he was prepared for her tears, her accusations
He hadn't been prepared.
He had been so far from prepared that it stunned him to the depth of
He hadn't seen her in four days.
She hadn't left their room since then.
He'd tried to talk to her that second day, after everything had come
to light, but she hadn't wanted to see him. She wouldn't let him come
anywhere near her.
As he stepped into the room, it hit him that this was the one time he
couldn't just run. It would be so easy to pack-up a bag and leave, and
he couldn't lie to himself, some part of him wanted to. But he
He had been running all his life, but for one of the few times that he
could remember, his options were non-existent. He could face up to the
consequences and try to salvage the broken pieces of his marriage or
he could run and lose the only person who tied him to happiness and
the life he had come to depend on.
Either way, he was screwed and risked losing her.
But he had to see her.
He had made the wrong choice the last time; he wasn't going to again.
He had chosen to run away from a commitment that would have bound them
together forever, and he wanted to turn back time because he realized
now that forever was exactly what he wanted with her.
But he had run, even if it had been metaphorically, right into the
arms of someone else and for that act he was now going to pay.
He had to face her. He couldn't let that go on any longer.
He went to her that night but he hadn't prepared himself enough.
He hadn't prepared for the person who called herself Marie who
looked like her but didn't act in any of the ways he had come to
recognize in the woman he had loved for so long.