Chapter 4: Kiss me as if it were the last time

Logan thinks about that day a lot - standing in the Departures area in Roissy with a bag in one hand and the bitter taste of rejection in his mouth.

He wonders if things would be different, if Charles had come to say goodbye. Had explained that Erik was alive and that he needed desperately to go find him. Wonders if the hurt would hurt less if Charles had given him a choice; to help with Lehnsherr's rescue or leave and start a new life alone.

Wonders if the feelings he has for Charles Xavier would be easier to leave behind, if Logan hadn't been denied his closure.

Now, as he watches Charles slide into the rented SUV, smiling at Lehnsherr before pulling away from the curb – he knows.

It wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference.

"We're leaving tomorrow, when the roads are clear."

Charles is standing in the doorway, speaking softly into the dimly lit back room where Logan's been sleeping these past few days. It's very late – closer to morning by his estimation – the sound of Charles' careful footsteps like thunder in the quiet stillness of a cold February night.

Logan ignores him, staying sprawled on the couch with his back turned as Charles makes his way across the room, stepping lightly around boxes and long discarded beer bottles. Pretends not to feel the heat of Charles' body when he stops, close enough for Logan to roll over and yank him down and-

"Please," Charles says, aware that Logan is wide awake, after tossing and turning for hours in his makeshift bed. "Won't you look at me?"

"Go back to bed, Chuck," he answers, a tired sigh tumbling from his mouth instead of the growl he'd intended. "I've got nothing to say to you."

I've come to say goodbye, Logan hears, the words expected but no less crushing. He forces himself to stay perfectly still; not to flinch or scoff or snarl at the warm brush of Charles' mind against his, so achingly gentle and familiar.

I should have done this a long time ago.

"What? Say goodbye?" And now he does let the resentment seep through; lets the simmering anger flood his thoughts and color his brisk retort. "No need. I got the message."

A hand reaches for him, hesitant and light as it touches his shoulder, a gesture meant to sooth. Instead, the fingers burn like fire as they trail across naked skin, taunting him with hoarded memories. Of other late nights and early mornings like this one, their bodies spent and basking in the warm afterglow of release.

There are things I should have said, Charles shares as he slumps onto the floor beside the couch, resting his head against Logan's blanket covered back. I'm sorry…I was such a coward.

"Doesn't matter." And he knows it's the truth even as the denial falls too quickly and easily from his lips. "Doesn't change anything."

"Maybe not but I'd like a chance to explain. I owe you…the truth."

The truth, Logan thinks, is something he already knows – has always known. It's the cold comfort that keeps him company in the harsh Canadian winter. The balm he mixes with alcohol to take away the sting.

There isn't anything you can tell me, he sends, that I don't already know. You…and Lehnsherr, I get it. I've always understood, what he was…is…to you. Whatever we did or didn't have, Chuck…happened because he wasn't there.

Hank had called with the news of Erik's rescue, three days after he left Paris. Had filled him in on the details of Lehnsherr's capture and imprisonment by Trask after the botched mission, hidden away in a remote facility in Greenland. That Raven had discovered Erik's whereabouts after months of dogged investigation, going to Charles only after she found concrete evidence that he was still alive.

Logan already knows why Charles left him that day.

And that for Charles, he'd never really been a choice.

"You're wrong."

Charles murmurs the words against Logan's skin, hand fisted in the folds of his favorite old army blanket. It's too much, having him so close after all these months apart, Charles' scent and the weight of his presence completely overwhelming Logan's senses. He shifts away without thinking, sitting up on the couch and setting his feet on the floor, putting some much needed distance between them.

"Logan?"

He sighs, rubbing his face with both hands before dropping his head back on the couch. Better to look up at the chipped paint on the ceiling than the soft glint in Xavier's eyes.

"Just…say what you have to say and go."

Let me show you, Charles says, moving closer when Logan needs him farther away, pulling him forward until the two are face to face.

You're not wrong about Erik, he continues, grasping Logan's temple gently between his fingers. But you're wrong about you and me.

The world tilts sideways and Logan falls, no longer in his tiny bar in the Rockies, bracketing his former lover between his feet.

He's Charles Xavier, six months ago, staring at pictures of Erik in a plastic prison, Raven watching him with muted impatience. The initial shock becomes breathless joy that Erik is alive, before moving quickly to guilt and anger and sorrow.

Guilt, because Raven was the one to find him, when Charles had so easily given Erik up for dead when he was lost in the raid.

Anger, at Trask for his treatment of Erik, using his gift to further the development of weapons against their people.

Sorrow, for the time Charles and Erik were forced to spend apart. Time Erik spent waiting for Charles to come for him. Time Charles spent falling in love with someone else.

He's Charles Xavier, getting in the car with Raven, telling himself that it's better this way, letting Logan go without saying goodbye. Easier for Logan to forget and move on, if he hates Charles instead of loving him.

Pretends that his heart isn't split in two, bleeding for the man waiting alone in a cell and the man waiting alone in an airport lounge.

Pretends there isn't the tiniest part of him that wants to get on the plane with Logan, leaving the hurts and the betrayals behind.

He's Charles Xavier and it's four months ago and he and Erik are fighting again.

The relief and the elation of having Erik back has eased somewhat, enough to let old grievances surface. Charles is still angry about the fateful mission; that a disagreement in methods became reason enough for Erik to keep him in the dark. That Erik chose not to compromise; that his goals were more important than Charles' trust.

Erik is angry that Charles stopped caring, pulling away from the Network and the War after his 'death'. That he spent his days hiding instead of fighting, letting Raven lead the team in their place. And though Erik doesn't admit that he knows, he's furious and resentful of Charles' relationship with Logan – hates and fears Logan's presence in a heart that used to belong solely to him.

He's Charles Xavier and it's five days ago and he's staring at Logan's back as the man storms out of the room.

The realization hits him hard, leaving him winded.

He's still in love with Logan and doesn't know how to stop.

There are hands in his hair and Charles is kissing him hard, both a plea and a demand for more. The weight of the body against his is so familiar, so right, and Logan gives in without a thought, letting Charles Xavier close once again to ruin him while saving him.

"I've missed you. So much," Charles breathes between every heated kiss, sounding desperate and wounded. "I wanted to stay with you. To build the School together. I just…I couldn't..."

He stills, pulling away from Charles to look into eyes infinitely sad. "You couldn't leave him. You didn't want to."

I love him, Charles answers, sliding onto the couch, curling next to Logan with his head on his chest. But sometimes…I don't think it'll be enough.

I'm not your consolation prize, Chuck, he sends, hand carding gently through Charles' hair. I don't want this – being second best.

"It's not like that! I—"

Logan kisses him again, a gentler, softer refrain to stop Charles' denials. He knows this is all he can really have of the man in his arms; knows they both deserve better than to hold on to something that's been over for months.

You're not my consolation prize, Charles insists and Logan doesn't try to interrupt this time; letting the confession wash over him with a shuddering sigh. You're my best friend. The man I trust. The only one I can count on to choose me…

He doesn't finish the thought, clinging tighter instead to Logan as they sit in the empty dark, watching the drifts outside the single frosted window. It's a comfort that Logan has sorely missed, reminiscent of their short time together in Paris. Something he's grateful to have again, if only for a few stolen hours.

I don't want to lose you, Logan. Your…friendship, means everything to me.

You haven't, he sends. You won't.

Will I see you again?

Are you still building a School?

Yes. Someday. Soon.

Call me, Chuck, when it's ready. I'll be there.

He wakes alone and wrapped in his blanket, the taste of goodbye still lingering on his lips.