You've got that healing touch
Magic charm

Baby blow me down
Healing touch

Healing Touch - Pretty Maids

---

With an arm securely wrapped around her brown paper bag of groceries, Ororo Munroe made her way down the lonely street back to her motel. After her second day without food, she realized that in order to hide properly, she should at least be equipped with the right essentials to make it successful. So, when it became dark enough for her to make a quick trip down to the corner store, she did just that.

Her hand absently traced over the bulge of her blade through her side jeans' pocket for the fourth time during her outing. She hadn't meant to be so paranoid, but she figured that if she wasn't something was liable to happen as soon as her guard was down. The groceries slipped and she tripped over her own foot as she tried to secure them from falling to the ground. It wasn't as if she had anything breakable in the bag, but her instinct had taken over and she cradled them protectively all the while trying to make sure her hood stayed in place.

The last thing she needed was for that blasted hood to come off her head. If there was anything that would give away her hiding, it would be her snow white hair. She had made sure to purchase a wig (not a very attractive one) from the store that night as well. She had frowned at the curly brown wig and shrugged, adding it to her small cart she had carried with her around the store. The wig landed on three large bags of flavored tortilla chips and one large bottle of water with a *thud* and she had continued her shopping...

A black pickup truck drove past and Ororo kept her eyes forward, ignoring the catcalls and wolf whistles being thrown her way. It was something she'd learned to ignore over the years, realizing that men of that nature felt some sort of pride when they did that to women. She was one of the many women, however, that did not approve nor appreciate it.

When the truck stopped and began to back up slowly it was then that Ororo felt a slight twinge of panic and picked up the pace in her step.

"Where you going, pretty?"

"Yeah, we just want to say hello!"

Turning to look at them and noticing it was four of them, she clenched her jaw and turned her face forward again and sighed. "So say it and be on your way," she mumbled to herself and kept a brave front.

Chuckling was amidst the men in the pickup and she shook her head. This was obviously going to be a long night. She realized she would much rather risk slowing her step than have them find out where she lived. Of all the nights to be out, she chose the night when next to no one was around.

...save for her and the four men in the truck.

When the men made no move to continue on, she stopped and turned to look at them. The man driving stared at her with a look in his eyes that made her chest tighten. Her own eyes pleaded with him. The sound of motorcycle in the background made her turn in the direction of it and she saw a shadowed figure climb off the motorcycle. She looked back at the men and turned back in the direction of the the store, trying to walk as fast and noisy as she could to get the man's attention.

The door to the pickup creaked as it opened and Ororo started in a sprint toward the store. She didn't get very far as an arm came around her waist, pulling her back to the truck. Before she could pull her blade from her pocket, two strong hands lifted her arms up over her head and another two grabbed her by the ankles. Her groceries fell to the ground. The sound of chips being crunched underneath sneakers indicated the sound of a struggle as her long legs jerked and she writhed against the portly man that had grabbed her from behind.

In the middle of her tussle, her hood came off her head and her white hair spilled out over her shoulders.

"Fuck," one of the men whispered as she looked up at him, her blue eyes piercing into his own. "I think we hit the jackpot," he smirked and rubbed the bulge in the front of his jeans, walking towards Ororo.

"We have to get her in the truck first, dickhead." The portly man was now speaking as he began to pull her back towards their truck. "Keep her mouth covered. This bitch will scream as soon as she can get a chance."

Her eyes widened at the sound of that and she fought harder, getting one leg out of the tight grip he had on her. Her leg swung and she hit the man underneath his chin. More laughter ensued as he stumbled back and she now stood on her two feet, jumping up and down. This caused the hand that was covering her mouth to slip and she called out as loudly as she could for help.

The second time she called out for help, the man that she kicked in his chin's hand came up, backhanding her across the face and she slumped for a moment. She struggled once more and her legs went swinging.

"Crazy bitch!" He said angrily and ripped her shirt right down the middle.


***

Beer.

That was the initial reason he'd ventured to this store. To buy a case of beer he could take home with him and enjoy the rest of the evening in his own drunken stupor. He parked his motorcycle just in front of the entrance doors and he heard a tussle to his right. A woman in an argument with a group of men, he snorted and stuck the cigar in his mouth, biting the tip of it.

He didn't give the pickup truck a second thought as he made his way for the store. His hearing had always been much better than the average person's. When he was a small child...

He shook the thought away and an ear perked when he heard the car door slam and heard feet hitting the pavement in what he could only assume as a nervous sprint.

None of them even saw him coming as they fought to get the woman in the truck. She was doing a damn good job of fighting them off and he had the nerve to slow his step as she kicked the man in the chin. Her hair was a shocking white that contrasted beautifully with her mocha skin and he growled as the man backhanded her and ripped her shirt open.

"So ya' bastards like pickin' on women!" He said angrily, his fist connected with the man that had ripped her shirt open, knocking him off his feet.

He had no idea why he'd come and gotten involved in this tussle but whatever stupid reason it was, he couldn't stop now as he saw a flicker of white fly through the air. The fat fucker charged for him and he grunted as he bent over, lifted the fat man with his shoulder and flipped him on his back. Turning around to look down at the man, his boot came down on the man's face, his head bouncing on the concrete. He looked down at the man as a bubble of blood came from his nose and popped, staining his top lip. He hoped he had killed the bastard.

"Fuck!" He said angrily when a string of a man jumped his back and he wheeled around trying to shake him off. Anytime she wanted to help him - ah, perfect timing. He heard a *thump* and the man yelled and fell back, hitting the ground. Logan looked around to see his girl attempting to stomp a hole in the man's stomach.

The last man, who couldn't have been more than five feet tall, held up his arms and hightailed it, leaving his three unconscious friends and Logan standing there starng at the woman who's life he had just saved. Amidst all the groans and grunts, she smoothed back her hair and gave him a beautiful smile that made him want to pick her up and hop on his bike.


***

Her Savior.

She knew the moment she saw him charging over that would be the name she was going to give him. For one fleeting moment as the man had ripped open her shirt, she had the impression that he was going to play it safe and pretend as if he didn't hear. She was wrong. He heard her cries for help and he had come to save her.

However, the whole notion of him being "her savior" sounded crazy in her head and she shook the thought away. She heaved the large jug of water across the head of the lean man that had jumped his back, successfully knocking him off and saw him promptly collapse on the ground followed by her own boot stomping him in the stomach a few times. When she turned to look at the last man standing, she turned to see the back of him as he ran down the street.

Thank you.

She should have said it instead of giving him a stupid smile but her words had failed her once she'd locked eyes with him. Hazel. She planted that in her head as she could only stare at him. Her eyes would not betray her and take in his chiseled arms, the dimple in his chin, or the unruly hair. Too late. Her eyes went over him briefly. She gave him the impression that she was sizing him up though it hadn't really mattered since he'd taken out two men with ease.

"Here," his gruff voice startled her and she frowned as he lifted the shirt (she noticed it stained with drops of blood) he was wearing off his head and tossed it at her. His eyes instinctively lowered to her exposed chest and she caught the shirt and lifted it over her head, noting that it smelled of cigar smoke, beer, and the faintest hint of blood. It was his blood, she assumed as she saw it stained through his white tank top. There were ugly purple bruises on his sides and a cut underneath his eye. Much like the cut she'd received the night she'd run...

"You better get out of here before these assholes wake up," he muttered, turning his back to her and walking away.

She pulled at his faded black tee shirt and bit her bottom lip. His hair blew in the breeze and she pushed stray hair from her face. "Wait a minute!" She trotted behind him and tapped him on the back of his shoulder. She could have sworn a smirk from his profile as he turned around but she realized it was another scowl. "Those are some pretty bad cuts," she began, her eyes roaming over his body. The closer she was to him, she saw that there were more bruises than she could count.

Shrugging it off, he looked down. She couldn't help but smile at the cigar still in his mouth, even after all the fighting. "I can take care of those. I mean, it's the least I could do for you since you were nice enough to help me." She looked over her shoulder and saw the portly man's knee lift in the air slightly.

Ororo turned back to him and perked her eyebrows.

"Kid, I get bruises like this all the time."

"I am not a kid," her brow creased as she frowned.

Now it was his turn to give her the once over and she tightened the grasp she had on his shirt with her left hand. "I noticed."

"I have a healing touch!" She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers at him, offering him another smile. In truth, she'd rather ride off in the night with this stranger than be left behind to get caught again by one of her comrades in the truck. The urge to steal that truck had hit her like a sharp pain in her stomach and she was much safer away from the scene of the crime.

He chuckled at that and jerked his head in the direction of the motorcycle. "Come on," he turned to walk and she followed behind him, forgetting about her groceries, the black truck, or the men riding in it.


***

Neither one of them knew what they were doing this starless night. The moon glowed over them as he sped down an almost empty highway. He passed a few cars here and there and she looked at each and every single one of them. She had no reason for doing it, it was just something to keep her occupied as she latched on to him. Her fingers had locked with one another and he could feel her head resting against his back.

Holding back his growl, he sped up and looked forward.

Her hair trailed behind her as he picked up speed and she took in his scent, smiling into the night. The wind whipped their faces and howled in their ears.

His apartment was thirty minutes away and he pulled into an alleyway between two shabby run down apartment buildings The speed of his bike slowed dramatically and he came up to a makeshift garage. "I stay on the second floor," he told her, motioning to the fire escape ladder. She nodded her head and hopped off the bike and headed over to the ladder, climbing it one step at a time.

Logan's eyes went to her backside briefly and he climbed off his bike and lifted the garage he'd made the first night he moved into his apartment. He pushed his bike inside of it and came out, pulling the door down and locking it with a chain. If someone stole his bike he prayed to the heavens he never found them.

For their own safety.

Ororo stood on the the balcony with her arms wrapped securely around her. Her eyes widened and her hand reached down to run over the blade in her pocket. She had forgotten all about it.

"Somethin' the matter, darlin'?" He asked her, appearing out of nowhere and maneuvering the window to open. She shook her head then followed it with a soft "no" and he turned back to look and stepped aside to let her climb in before him. Both of them knew she hadn't come here to heal any bruises on his chest, his arms, or anywhere else on his body.

Or perhaps, maybe she was.

He climbed in behind her and shut the door, locking it securely. "Want something to eat?" He asked with with a shrug and went to sit on the couch. He gave an involuntary groan as his sides ached when he sat down and she looked at him.

"Take the shirt off," she instructed, going into his kitchen and grabbing the dishtowel from the sink. She ran it under the tap and turned on warm water. She could feel his eyes on her and she turned to look at him. "Ororo," she said after a moment and looked down at the towel.

O... what? He made a face at that and then realized that was her name. He'd never remember that. It wasn't as if he'd need to...

Right?

"I'm Logan," it sounded more like a grunt than actually speaking when he said it. His shirt now lay idly on the arm of his lump of a couch. He'd found this couch next to a dumpster and he knew the reason why as he sat on it and bounced a little. The sea green color did not add appeal to it either.

Ororo nodded her head when he said his name and turned to walk back towards him. She took in a sharp intake of breath when she came to face his bare chest and squeezed the towel gently. She knelt down and moved between his legs, pressing the towel to his bruises. She wiped the cut that had been the reason for him bleeding through his shirt and he hissed. Logan looked down at her and swallowed. He removed his cigar (that he still hadn't lit) and placed it on the coffee table. He was so used to mending himself these days that he was oddly surprised at how gentle her long skinny fingers were on his chest.

It took her off guard when large calloused hands grabbed her upper arms firmly and he pulled her into a fiery kiss.

He lifted her with an unsurprising ease and she straddled him, moaning into his mouth softly. His hands cupped her bottom and gave it a firm squeeze. "Fuck, it's so soft," he whispered as he pulled away from her and patted her backside. She leaned in and tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth and he growled, cupping the back of her head and pressing his lips to hers, this time forcing his tongue between her lips.

He cursed her jeans as his erection throbbed painfully through his own. She made a sound against his lips as she brought her hips down over his, feeling the subtle rub of his erection to her center. These jeans had to come off and they had to come off quickly.

"Fuck!" He whispered once he'd pulled back to gather enough oxygen to pull her back into another bruising kiss. His hands moved to the front of her jeans and she jerked roughly against him as he unbuttoned them skillfully. Magically removing her blue jeans was not going to happen so she pulled off him to stand. She was barely standing and he pulled her jeans down with such a swift force that she almost fell back into the coffee table. She pulled down her underwear and his hands covered hers as they slid down her thighs to her ankles.

When she stepped out of them, he unbuttoned his own jeans and pulled them off with his boxers down to his knees quickly. "C'mere," he commanded, pulling her down to straddle him again.

He didn't give her a moment to gain her senses as he slid his thick shaft inside of her. They both cried out in ecstasy as his penis was engulfed in slick tight warmness and he stretched her, rubbing against her clitoris with each rough thrust. He guided her hips over his, digging his blunt fingernails in her skin bruising her and made her bounce as he lifted his behind in the air to pound himself up into her.

"Ah!" She cried as he buried his face in the swell of her breasts, kissing them through the fabric of his shirt. He lifted his head and made a frown of deep concentration as he tried to fill her to the very hilt.

Her head fell forward and she rested her forehead against his. Her warm breath bounced off his dry lips and he pulled her body close to his so he could fill her completely. Ororo's body ached with a sweet mixture of pleasure and pain.

Thinking was of no circumstance at this moment. Too far gone and incoherent, neither of them could think about what they both were doing. For Logan, this was easy. He'd been with women whose names he hadn't cared to know on a regular basis. It was Ororo that hade never quite experienced something like this before. She'd always overthought things at inappropriate times. Why shouldn't she be allowed to indulge in one wild night?

Logan's quick rough thrusts into her tight wet space made him growl against her chest. Her cries of pleasure mingled with his own. His hands pulled at the shirt and the sound of a seam ripping made them halt briefly.

Their eyes locked on one another, hazel staring into blue with their chests rising and falling rapidly. Her parted lips were swollen and bruised from his rough kiss.

He had almost told her she was beautiful.

Almost.

Their hips began to move once more in sync. The sounds of skin pounding on skin now heard through the next to empty living room. He started slow and then began to move his hips relentlessly into her, going as fast as he possibly could. His thrusts were quick and rough and it wasn't long before he felt that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach and his muscles tensed.

"Fuck - ah - fuck - I'm -" he pulled her hair roughly and her head jerked back. He came suddenly spilling his seed into her and lifted his face to kiss her once more. Her moans were muffled by his lips and he gave her backside another firm squeeze. Her walls clenched around him and his hips jerked against his own will.

Her hips continued to work against his and then they came to a complete halt. She did not have the opportunity to climax but that did not stop the lazy grin the spread on her face as she tilted her head back and let out a long sigh. The last bit of his seed spilled into her and she bowed her head forward and pressed her hands to his chest.

"Don't go," was the last thing he said to her as he held her close to him and his eyelids became very heavy.

The entire notion was crazy - no, insane - to lay here in the arms of man she had just met for the rest of the night, though it didn't compare to how it was even more crazy that she had just slept with him. She didn't protest though and she nodded her head, running a finger over his lips and watching until he'd fallen asleep.

And that was how they stayed...

He woke up the next morning laying on his couch with a crook in his neck. The ripped shirt she had been wearing before he gave her his own shirt on his coffee table. He lifted it and sniffed it, closing his eyes and letting out a soft growl. She smelled like the earth after a thunderstorm.

She was gone.

Night
Passes slow
Get up moon go, I can’t take it

My thoughts
Weigh me down
And I’m prisoner to my blanket

Morning - Amel Larrieux

---

"Stop!" She cried, holding up her arms and backing into the wall as he came charging towards her. His eyes had darkened with anger and he lifted a hand to strike her face.

The hand froze in the air and her eyes widened as she began to scream. Suddenly, there was blood everywhere... so much blood and he couldn't stop it. Why had there been so much blood?

"What have you done?!" She began to scream at him, her cheeks stained with tears.

Logan jumped up in bed and waved his arms wildly in front of him. He fought with the stuffy air, his fists swinging at nothing in particular. His bed creaked under pressure and he wiped his sweaty forehead, falling back on the bed and sighed.

He hated when this happened, his nightmares swallowed him whole into a pool of fear, doubt, and self loathing.

Logan had been having these nightmares since he was a child. It was a haunting memory that he would never be able to rid himself of no matter how hard he attempted.

His knuckles itched and he scratched the ugly scars between them, groaning.

With a hesitant look at his alarm clock, he swore under his breath. It was just five after three. He threw the covers back and jumped out of bed. His sweats lay in a heap next to his well worn sneakers and he stretched his arms high over his head. For the first time in years, he hadn't awaken in a cold sweat with the sheets clinging to his body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a peaceful night's sleep.

That was a lie.

He gave an involuntary glance at the shirt that had been putting a damn hole in his mind since it'd been here. That night she had come... things seemed to change. When he went to sleep with her in his arms, he did not dream. And if he had, he couldn't remember. He liked it that way.

"Just pussy," he muttered, turning away from the simple white shirt and began to put on his sweats. He had a match tonight and the last thing he needed was a one-time-fuck on his mind. Logan put the hood on his head, grabbed his keys off his bedside table and made his way out of the apartment.

He passed a haggard looking man sitting next to his apartment door and he snorted. He hadn't interacted with any of the tenants but he knew the lump of ragged and alcohol infested clothing as Pervert Pete. Many a day he heard women shouting at him or giving him rough shoves that eventually ended up with him at the bottom of the stairs, flat on his ass.

Apparently, Pete had found a good lay in a bottle of cheap whiskey as the old man reeked of it.

Bumping into a small Asian woman on his way down the stairs, he moved aside for her. She gave him a small smile and a kind "hello" which he exchanged with a grunt and nod of his head.

He did his usual stretching routine before he jogged and looked around to see if anyone else was out this early. It was as vacant as it was dark, save for a man sleeping on an ugly amber couch placed next to a dumpster. His early morning jog was always the result of his usual sleepless nights. When he was done with his stretching, he stood and started off in a sprint.

He would not think of her as he ran. No, he would force his thoughts to tonight's match. His opponent was as mean as they came and even uglier to boot. He walked around calling himself the 'Bionic Man' and apparently everyone that fought against him agreed that he was unstoppable.

Bullshit.

Logan had been fighting since he was a small child and so far there wasn't a fight he'd lost. He would show the 'Bionic Man' a taste of the 'Wolverine' and that would be the end of that.

That name had never quite grown on him. He received it when he was about fourteen years old. A man in town had been bullying his younger brother and Logan had honestly stalked and preyed on the man. The only reason he hadn't killed him was because his mother said not to. After that, his brother proudly walked around the town telling everyone how his older brother the 'Wolverine', would gladly kick any person's ass if they stepped to him. And it had been that way ever since. The only thing he did like about the name was whenever 'groupies' approached him after a match, they never asked him to give his real name nor did he have to waste his time making up one and they would already know to call him 'Wolverine'. Only Tom, Phyllis, and Weasel needed to know his name.

When she asked his name it slipped off his tongue too damn easy.

Bionic Man. Bionic Man. Bionic Man.

Glowing white hair, alluring blues eyes, smooth brown skin, and the most perfect ass in the world appeared in his head and he felt the twinge in his lower stomach move down to his mid-thighs. He wanted to forget her, but this was proving to be more difficult than he thought it to be.


***

The alarm clock buzzed in Ororo's ear but she was already awake and staring up at the ceiling with fresh tears pooling in her eyes. A long arm reached over and clumsily found the button to turn the alarm off.

The morning she left Logan's apartment, she bought more things that would be of a necessity to her. The alarm clock was just one of the things. Along her journey, halfway across the United States, she had already bought clothes and shoes for herself.

Getting up and wiping the tears from her eyes, she stretched her arms high over her head and made her way to the cramped bathroom of her hotel. She was always surprised that she hadn't managed to put her foot in the toilet when she stepped out of the shower.

She leaned over to turn the shower on and pull the curtains back. She pulled her hair out of the messy ponytail and stepped inside her shower. She had made plans to go back to Africa and maybe track down some relatives on her mother's side since she had no luck when her parents were killed looking for her father's relatives. She just remembered being a little girl lost and finally being picked off the street by a bald man that ran a home for parent-less children like her. She didn't even know what became of him as she had found herself running away with a man named Victor that promised her everything.

And everything he gave her.

From tons of money to amazing sex to black eyes.

Passport. She needed to keep her mind on the passport and how long the process would be of getting it. She lathered the cheap orange soap that had no smell in a plain white towel and began to hum to herself. Long hands worked as she washed herself with the towel and thought about him.

The man and his motorcycle.

Try as she might to forget him, she just could not bring herself to. When he told her not to leave she knew it was because he was lonely. From the looks of his apartment, it seemed like no one lived there. There was a couch, a coffee table, and an old television sitting on crates in the living room. The television was cracked right down the middle so she knew for sure that it probably wasn't in the best shape and Logan didn't seem like the type of man to sit around and watch television on a day off...

Though she had no idea what it was he even did.

She didn't dwell on the fact that she had known little to nothing about this man except the name he gave her. It didn't upset her, she realized, as she stepped underneath the water and let it hit her face. She opened her mouth and smiled a little. The entire night she'd slept in his lap, letting him hold on to her so tightly she she thought she would lose oxygen and he played in her hair.

His fingers twirled around the edges of it pulling a little while he snored into her ear and mumbled incoherently in his sleep. She found that it eased her. For once, she didn't feel like she was going to wake up and find him standing over her.

That thought quickly brought her back to reality and she opened her eyes, washing all the soap off and turned off the shower.

It was time to get down to business.


***

"Fight tonight," a boy that looked no older than fifteen handed Logan the flyer and walked off quickly when he took it from him. Logan had stopped by the bar to pick up his earnings from the last fight. He perked an eyebrow at him and that was made the boy almost fall over a table getting away, his red hair bouncing on his shoulders. Poor kid, Logan thought wistfully as he looked at the kid's red hair.

The first night Logan had come to the bar he remembered getting into a fight with the first person he had laid eyes on. All these bastards around here were crazy and they would try to pick a fight with the first new face that stepped foot inside. Of course, Logan just had to let them all know that he wasn't the type to get hassled around. Most of the men he fought with were larger and broader, but he was quick and he had stealth. He'd been doing this forever. They couldn't hold a candle to him.

"Good pay," he muttered dryly as he boldly snapped the rubber band in front of the owner Tom and began to count his money.

Six hundred dollars and people needed real jobs!

Of course this got under Tom's skin when Logan did this. That was why he did it. He knew Tom would never cheat him. Hell, they basically had a business going on between them. Tom found the suckers and brought them in while Logan roughed them up. It worked.

Logan didn't know Tom's story completely and he didn't care to know it to tell the truth. He'd overheard Phyllis, the middle aged bleach blond waitress mention to a few patrons and tourists that came by the bar that Tom once worked in a bank. He had a wife, two little girls, and a dog. One day, he came home to find all of them with their throats cut and he seemed to have snapped. Lost his mind completely, she told every one with wide eyes. She said that he woke up one night covered in his own blood and didn't know where he was even bleeding from.

A day later, he found himself the owner of a rundown bar and named it coincidentally after his late wife that he never talks of.

The Grace.

Ironic. A pretty name for such a shitty place.

Logan, however, knew Phyllis just loved to exaggerate things. Tom always told her she would have made a great actress the way she was so goddamn dramatic about everything. It's a damn shame because deep down Logan thought she would have, too. Though her scars had healed over the years, he saw the marks on her arms from a past filled with heroine addiction and he was pretty damn sure it went farther than that.

Mix all their stories together and they were some pretty pathetic assholes.

The only one really doing something for himself was 'Weasel', the fifteen year old red haired boy. Tom had found the boy when he was about ten, eating, or as Phyllis liked to tell it - picking through the dumpster in the alley behind the bar. He cursed the kid out and when the kid cursed him right back out, Tom took him in. Since then, he was like Tom's own. They bicker and nag one another to death but Tom loves Weasel and Logan was pretty damn sure Weasel felt the same. He found out after a fight three weeks ago that Weasel was going to one of the community colleges.

"Maybe be a businessman or some'in," was all Weasel said.

Logan looked at the worn down bar with the ugly white paint chipping from it. There were blood marks and dents from glass bottles being broken all over it. He looked at the balding Tom and his ridiculously large stomach. Logan used to joke mentally that he knew when Tom was was making his way into the room because a person would see his large belly ten minutes before they saw the rest of him. He immediately looked away though and stuffed his money into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Phyllis shuffled her wide hips through the tables, sitting down three legged chairs that always made for great entertainment when a drunken client sat down in it.

Looking at Phyllis, Logan bet she must have been gorgeous before she became a junkie.

"All right. I'll be ready tonight," was all he said as he tipped his head at Weasel, who looked at him and turned beet red. What was it that made this kid blush every fifteen minutes?


***

Ororo wondered if this woman looked at everyone this way. With her beak nose turned up and her eyes beady, she reminded Ororo of a buzzard. The way her huge sloping forehead protruded from her face with her dirty gray hair tied back in a tight bun did not help her appeal much either. She had been sitting at the main branch of one of those popular banks, waiting for someone, anyone to give her attention.

The ugly synthetic honey curls hung at her shoulder and swished dramatically each time she turned her head. She hated this wig more than she hated her life at this moment, but she would risk being unattractive than being found.

"Is there a contact number, Miss Munroe?" The woman asked her with an accent that Ororo could not quite place.

Ororo sighed and looked down, "No. No, you don't contact me. I contact you." She pointed at the woman who was obviously trying everything in her power not to scowl. Instead, she gave Ororo a stiff nod and handed over her receipt. They looked at one another for a moment and Ororo mumbled an awkward thanks and turned to make her way out of the building.

Sure, she must have looked crazy when she brought in a duffel bag of money, but when she pulled out such large amounts of money, those smug expressions turned upside down and they literally went insane the way they fawned over her and offered her coffee. And of course she didn't say no to the coffee. She'd adored coffee. Mostly because every morning before her father walked her to school, the house smelled of coffee that her mother had prepared. Her father would take his cup and walk around the entire home with it, talking about his busy schedule for the day and how he was still working on Ororo's new bedroom.

They had always planned to give Ororo a younger brother or sister.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the man she'd bumped into. She was too busy thinking of memories lost and trying to fold the duffel bag so that she could stuff it in the trash can without much struggle.

"Easy there darlin'."

Darlin'.

She'd remembered that term.

Looking up, she almost wished she hadn't.

Almost.

Her mystery man on the motorcycle.

Her s -

"Pardon me," she said politely and attempted to walk past him but failed when his strong hand gripped her upper arm.

"You got somewhere you need to be so quickly?" He asked her in a soft teasing voice. It was such a contrast to his brash appearance that she locked her eyes with his. As a matter of fact, she did have somewhere to be, though it was no concern of his. She had to buy her passport today. Today was the only day to get all of her business done and situated before she could really and truly run. The only day before she could be free.

She looked at his hand with a face that told him to remove it but he did no such thing and just smirked at her.

They stood there for a moment, staring one another down and she felt her knees go weak at how dark his eyes became as he studied her. She could feel the heat radiating off his hand through the thin fabric of her long sleeve shirt. Perhaps, it wasn't him but her instead and she should just confess that she maybe liked him... if only a little.

"No." He tipped his head as if he were wearing a hat. Ororo tried to imagine him in a fedora and almost giggled. "Pardon me." His hand slipped away, grazing her skin slowly with his calloused hand.

"Good day," she almost felt embarrassed that one night of her not even climaxing had caused her to feel this way. If she ended up liking him, it would only be trouble.

His eyes darted up to her wig and she cleared her throat. She patted the wig absently and sighed.

Just as she turned to walk away, she felt paper in her hand. It was paper that he'd slapped in her hand. When she turned to ask him what it was, she saw the back of him. "Logan!" She called but that just seemed to only make him walk faster. She looked down at the paper and frowned as she read it aloud.

"Eleven o'clock. The Grace. Cage duel. The Wolverine excepts all challengers."

She looked up and frowned once more. Who on earth was the Wolverine?

Balling the paper up quickly, Ororo tossed it into the trash can with her folded black duffel bag. She couldn't go.

He was going to be too much trouble.

It's so hard to keep this smile from my face

Losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place

Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right

Here I am, stuck in the middle with you


Stuck in the Middle with You - Stealers Wheel

---

Right. Left. Right. Right. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right.

It was like a dance, Logan thought as he jumped from side to side, pretending the punching bag was his worst enemy. He began to imagine a man trying tear him limb from limb.

Hazel eyes. Unruly hair. A menacing glare. Just like him.

He hit that punching bag with such a strong force that it began to wheeze each time his fist came in contact with it. He moved to the side when the punching bag came at him and took the shape of a familiar face. His blank expression turned into that of a snarl and he gave the punching back a left hook, then another, and an uppercut with his right fist.

He could hear the voice in his head - telling him he was stupid and worthless, calling him a runt...

It was too much for a man to handle.

The sweat dripped off his nose as he grunted and pounded his fists into the punching bag. They were sore and little spots of red appeared on the dingy bag but he did not stop.

"You won't amount to shit just like your own goddamn father!"

Grunt. Punch. Grunt.

"I hope you choke on your blood just like he did, you worthless litte shits - the both of you!"

The punching bag was smothering him, he couldn't get it off. He hugged and pushed but it felt like the damn thing had sprouted arms as was trying to crush him. He couldn't breathe and everything was turning black. Logan had to fight it off or it would kill him.

"Get off me, you son of a bitch!" Logan yelled, arms swinging at nothing. Deadpan silence was all that could be heard and when he looked around, everyone was staring at him like he'd just ripped someone to shreds. The sound of sand spilling onto concrete caught his attention and he turned to see the punching bag split open and gutted with sand spilling onto the floor.


***

She knew she was going to this fight before she threw the slip away.

Being invited to watch two large men beat one another to a bloody pulp was not considered a date. Ororo knew this even though she made an effort to dress decent and slipped on fitted blue jeans she'd run away in and a lacy white tank top. She tied her hair into a ponytail and made a grab for the wig sitting next to the sink. Her hand moved away slowly and she lifted her head to look up at her reflection. Though the dim lighting was terrible and made her look like she was a sickly brow color, she was glad to have enough light to apply eyeliner and gloss her lips.

She walked off, forgetting about the wig and grabbed her jacket. She twirled it over the back of her shoulders and her heart froze as she heard footsteps coming towards her door. Her knife was in her bosom and she reached her hand down her shirt and pulled it out. Her thumb flicked against it and the blade came out with a quick "snap".

No matter how tough she appeared to be, she knew he was tougher, faster, and stronger. She backed into the wall and began to breathe heavy as her heartbeat pounded into her ears. The footsteps began to sound like stomps as they quickly approached her room.

A knock on the door made her gasp and she dashed into the bathroom where she shut the door and frantically locked it. Closing her eyes, she slid down the plastered white wall and her backside hit the tiled floor. She buried her face in her hands and wished herself into nothingness. Perhaps if she disappeared into nothing, she would be at her safest. Things would be so much easier if she wasn't around.

The voices had faded and so had the footsteps and Ororo looked at the blade in her shaking hand.

She was pathetic, she realized as she was sitting here in the huddle of a motel bathroom and hiding from a man that probably didn't give a damn where she went in the first place. Of course, when she had run with his money, she would bet every last cent of that money that he was going to come after her. It was only a matter of time...

Deciding to take the wig after all, she stood and went back to stand in front of the mirror, pulling her own flowing white locks from the ponytail. Her hands were shaking as she stuffed platinum underneath a caramel colored wig. Honey blond it would be for the night.


***

She sat in the back, away from most of the crowd and her eyes never left him. He stepped in the cage in a pair of fitted blue jeans and a white tank top that clung to him. His boots were scuffed and old but they just added to his sex appeal. He hadn't bothered with his hair though she didn't think it would matter if he fixed it or not. His opponent was a tall man with dark greasy hair and a charming yellow tinted smile. She felt her stomach turn at the mere sight of him. He seemed the type of man to destroy anything in his path. He was at least a foot taller than Logan but he didn't seem to be intimidated by this little difference at all. In fact, Ororo thought that perhaps Logan liked the idea.

He would after all beat this man into nothing.

She licked her lips when he turned to face her side of the crowd and his fingers slipped through the cage, curving them over the rusted metal and looking around.

Was he... searching for her?

Cherish the thought, she thought sarcastically and her eyes darted to the portly middle aged man stepping in the center of the cage. He shouted and his voice sounded like an explosion as it spread through the crowd. A man in front of her that was already too inebriated to function, yelped in pain and stuck a finger into his ear.

"The Wolverine!" He shouted with a half-hearted smile. Something told her that he would rather be in the crowds drinking beer and swearing loudly, smacking a woman's backside like the rest of the men... instead of being responsible for two crazy bastards trying to kill one another in a cage.

Logan pulled away from the cage and she thought for a fleeting moment that he had noticed her but it passed when he turned and the crowd cheered and jeered.

"The Bionic Man."

The "Bionic Man" smiled and flexed his muscles for the crowd. A few of the women made sounds like they were swooning and Ororo could feel herself rolling her eyes. It didn't get much more disgusting than that. It couldn't have.

Of course, she was soon eating her words because Mr. Bionic pulled off his tank top to reveal a broad chest with tight black curls for hair in the center of it. She turned to Logan and she couldn't hold back her smile when she saw him smirking. That smirk was what set the mood. The Bionic Man simply snarled at him and when the portly man (Ororo assumed the referee) finished talking, the Bionic Man came charging at Logan. It was as if he knew exactly what this man's plans were. When he turned his elbow connected with the Bionic Man's jaw and he went staggering back and swearing.

Logan just chuckled and walked towards him with this swagger that made Ororo's knees buckle. He involuntarily flexed his muscles as he brought his arms across his stomach and pounded his fists together.

"You wanna' hit me?" She heard him call out though it was hard to hear with all the women swooning and the men yelling. "Then hit me!"

He and the Bionic Man both ran into one another, fists connecting with each others jaw. Logan staggered back but he growled and pounced on the Bionic Man, bringing his fist down repeatedly until crimson stained his knuckles and he pulled back.

Resting on his knees, he was panting as he glared down at the Bionic Man. His face was swollen and his eyes were turning purple and Ororo could see that the corner of his bottom lip was swollen. And yet, through all of this the Bionic Man slowly sat up and spit a mouthful of blood in Logan's face.

Hitting Logan in the eyes and making him turn his head away, the Bionic Man stood up quickly, bringing his foot back and stomping it into Logan's side.

"No!" Ororo heard herself cry.

Doubled over in what she could only assume was pain, he slowly turned and looked over his shoulder and there stood Ororo, giving him the biggest grin she could. He smirked at her and was knocked over by the Bionic Man, causing a few people in the crowd to "ooh" as if they knew the sort of pain he was going through. He fell on his back and tussled with the Bionic Man, until he was once again standing on his own two feet.

It was like slow motion as Ororo watched Logan bring this man down to what could be considered a great and bloody mass. There were only a few bruises and cuts here and there on Logan's sides and his face but all in all, he turned out much better than the Bionic Man. Once Logan was done, he laid sprawled out and his chest rose and fell slowly.

"The Wolverine!" The referee yelled, running back into the cage and obviously startled at how fast the fight had ended.

The Bionic Man's trainer had come running into the cage as soon as his back connected with the ground, making a loud thud. He bounced and the people went absolutely wild for Logan.

He didn't look up at them, he didn't lift his arm in the air when the referee had come back in to announce his winnings, and he didn't look up in the crowds for her. He simply walked out of the cage and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.


***

She had come to see him fight.

The thought ran through his head like the way he ran in the evenings with his younger brother, racing one another home to beat the moon rising and eat their mother's dinner.

He couldn't win and just not show off though Tom reminded him about how showing off would get him sore balls and a broken nose as he walked through the back hall and down to the changing room. He usually left all his important items there, such as the keys to his motorcycle and his cigars. Sadly, they were the most important things in his life.

Why did she have to wear that goddamn ugly wig? He loved her hair. It seemed to glow among everything else in the room. She stood out enough with just the wig on but he bet men would have been falling over their tongues had she not worn that stupid wig. Maybe the wig was a good idea after all.

"Here! The Bionic Man was quick money!" Tom said through his thick accent and tossed Logan a wad of unmarked bills, sealed tightly with a beige rubber band. Logan looked at Tom and just for the hell of it, unfolded the money and began to count it in front of him.

"Fuck off, Logan," Tom said in amused tone and Logan chuckled as he headed back to the changing room to get his keys and cigars.

A little piece of him hoped she'd be back here, waiting and ready for him to get a second chance at their first encounter. She hadn't climaxed and though it never bothered him with the many whores he met on the street, he felt the urge to impress her at all times at all costs. She wasn't like any of these women he picked up and took home for a quick fuck on the living room floor. She was in a world of her own and he didn't know where she was from, nor did he care, he just knew that he was intoxicated by her.

Everything about her.

Now he sounded crazy.

That voice in the back of his head argued that she may just be the type of woman to hook him and run with his money. He knew nothing about her and this moment he didn't want to. He just wanted her. Even if she was dangerous, he was willing to take this risk.

He'd just have to find out.

With legs like that and a great pair of tits to match, it was a risk worth taking.

He folded the money as tightly as he could and slipped it down into his front pocket, wincing a bit. The Bionic Man tried to break his ribs and he almost succeeded, had he not looked up and spotted her in the crowd. The angle he turned had made him ready for whatever charge or attack the Bionic Man was going to send his way. Didn't 'bionic' mean a person's performance was better than average? Why did it take barely thirty minutes for him to beat that fucker? No complaints, fights that ended less than thirty minutes were an extra one hundred to the winner. He was fine with that.

He needed to wash the blood from his hands and tend to theses cuts on his face. The sooner he could leave, the better. He hated the crowd before, during, and after each and every fight he had participated in. He could get nice and pissed in his own company just fine.

"Wolverine, huh?"

A soft accented voice knocked him from his thoughts.

He slowly turned and nodded with a grunt.

There she stood across from him, wearing a pair of blue jeans that clung to her in all the right places. Her nipples were perked and he could see them through her thin white tank. He did not hide his groan as he finished putting his money down deeper into his pocket. He picked up his keys and cigars, shoving one into his mouth and walked over to her.

For the life of him, he couldn't remember her full name except that 'Ro was in it, so that's what he called her and leaned forward to press his nose along her neck. She shivered against him, he could feel it and pressed his growing erection against her leg.

"Let's get outta' here," he said huskily into her ear.

And that was just what they did.

You and me were meant to be
Walking free in harmony

One fine day we' ll fly away
Don' t you know that Rome wasn't built in a day

Rome wasn't Built in a Day - Morcheeba

---

Logan gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The florescent light flickered nervously with a slight 'buzz' as he moved strong, scarred hands over his jawline. The Bionic Man may not have left lasting damage to the blind eye but, that bastard had actually bruised him a bit. The right side of his face ached, his ribs were bruised, and he knew he was going to get a black eye. His keen hearing picked up on her moving around, slipping of the jacket in the living room, and the ache in his face faded almost immediately.

Oh no, he wasn't going to sucker out tonight.

It wasn't certain that he would even see this woman again and when he saw her, he knew that he wanted every waking moment to be spent with her. And just her alone.

He growled under his breath, a little annoyed at himself for letting his loins do the thinking for him.

He couldn't help it though. There was just something about her that made the beast within want to take over. He would have claimed her, made her his, and run off, if he weren't such an asshole. His life was much too fucked up to try and add another person to his downward spiral. So, he would enjoy her and slam into her until she couldn't walk all the moments he did have with her.

"This is stupid," he grumbled, looking away from the reflection he had hated for so many years and turned on the water.

The hot water 'problem' should have been fixed months ago and he was sure most everyone complained about it. Something told him that the landlord simply did not give a fuck whether they lived or died in this godforsaken hellhole.

The knock at the door startled him and he turned to pull the door open. He took pleasure in the fact that her eyes trailed over his now bare chest and she held up a towel that he had been holding. He hadn't even noticed her taking it from his hands.

"Mind if I help?" She asked, taking him by the hand and pulling him to his bed.

Her white hair bobbed as she walked towards the bed. He had removed the wig as soon as they had stepped into his apartment. She didn't seem surprised by it, only giving him a little smile as the platinum locks cascaded past her shoulders and he looked at her in awe.

He'd gotten most of the blood off himself when he'd made a dash to the bathroom, telling her he would be right back. It was so hard to not pounce the moment they'd entered his apartment, but he told her he didn't want her kissing him when he was in some other man's blood. She took the gesture as something sweet when he just didn't like the idea of her lips mingling with some other man's blood. Hell, if she was going to kiss a bloody face, it would be his own.

That didn't stop her hands from traveling, however. He'd almost wrecked into a little blue Mustang when her hand had snaked from behind him on his motorcycle... and delved into places a woman's hands should not be roaming on a motorcycle at night. So when he had told her, she waited patiently for him, giving him a beautiful, toothy grin.

She had half dragged him, half pushed him on his back onto the bed. His hands found her hips immediately when she swung a long leg over him and straddled his waist. "Not hurting you, am I?" She asked when she noticed him screw his face in pain for a second.

She was hurting him, all right. It was just... in a very good way.

A smile formed on her lips when she felt him pressing up against her. "Down boy," she teased, wiping at the cuts and bruises on his battered chest.

It was so strange, how they were now - as if he'd been doing this with her for ages. Part of him wished they did know one another from some other time and part of him didn't. Having no attachments was a good thing. When either of them became bored (though he would have made that decision after the first night they slept together) and run off, they wouldn't be too upset by it.

Few words were spoken as he watched her hands move over him gently. He hissed a few times but gave her a reassuring grunt. As she wiped slowly, his erection only stiffened and the hands that rested on her small waist had made its dangerous shift upwards, just so happening to pull the white tank with it. She didn't seem to care too much as she had put full concentration on getting off every sign of blood from his body.

"Almost -" her words were cut short when he flipped her over abruptly and was hovering above her. She was light as feather, he mused, leaning in and capturing her lips with his own. He kissed her roughly and fiercely until he felt as though his lungs were going to explode. He was panting when he pulled away from her and she, too. Her blue eyes bore into his and soon, his hands were fumbling with the button on his jeans.

She never took her eyes off him, but her shoulders and arms moving told him that she was doing just the same. It was quicker than the blink of an eye when he had carelessly tossed his jeans aside. She wasn't working fast enough for him and he had pulled her jeans off roughly, making her gasp and throwing them over his shoulder. His large hands worked their way up past her ankles, on to her long and smooth legs, up to her hips.

Panties?

That was a no.

He all but tore them off and he had no idea where he placed them and be damned if he cared at this moment. He shoved his own boxers down his waist and nearly came at the purring sound she made. A cocoa leg lifted and wrapped around his waist and before he'd known it, his hips were bumping into hers.

Logan entered her with a deep, penetrating thrusts, causing him to groan under his breath and her back to arch into him. He pulled back for a moment and his hips stopped completely. White lashes fluttered for a moment and she opened her eyes to look at him. Her lips were slightly parted and her face was flushed.

She was god-damned gorgeous.

"Fuck," he managed to growl out before his hips pounded into her once more. Her hands reached up to grasp his shoulders as he moved in and out of her, unrelenting. His eyes shut immediately upon entering her once more and his face contorted into deep concentration as he tried to fill her with every single thrust. She fit him perfectly, like a glove and he enjoyed every single moment of this.

He probably enjoyed it more than he should have.

Her cries only made him want to move deeper into her and he strained, the veins popping in his neck as he began to rock harder into her, making the headboard bump against the wall. One of her hands pulled away from his shoulder blade and in the quick moment he opened his eyes, he had seen that she was gripping the headboard and biting down on her bottom lip to stifle her moans.

"No - " he grunted, "I ... hear ... you ... want to..." he managed to choke out between thrusts. She seemed to understand him because her moans were now growing louder and her legs that were once wrapped around his waist had moved higher to wrap around his lower back. He propped a hand on the side of her leg and grasped her thigh firmly, lifting it even higher.

"Ah!" she cried, arching her back once more. His knees dug into the mattress and he had pushed the bleached white sheets off the bed. His toes sank down and he used them to help push himself into her even harder.

She was swearing now and that only made him drive harder into her. He turned their bodies to the right slightly and began to hit her at new angles. Now, he couldn't help himself and he opened his eyes to look down at her. Her eyes were shut so tight that her veins were showing through her eyelids. Her lips were swollen and tight curls of white hair had formed around her forehead from the sweat that came from both their bodies.

Logan lowered his head until his forehead was resting in the hollow of her neck. His warm breath bounced on her skin and she grabbed roughly at his hair only making him slam harder into her. His ribs felt like they were going to break but that didn't stop him. It only encouraged him to bring her closer and closer to her peak. He fought with every inch of himself to hold off until she had climaxed.

A series of gasps, cries, and rough tugs of his hair told him she was getting close. Her muscles tightened around his shaft and he strained so he would not come right then and there. She let out a long, loud sigh and her body tensed underneath him.

His body slipped over the edge and he spilled himself deeply into her, pinning her hips down to the bed. "Fuck - fuck - fuck," he growled as he came inside of her. Slowing his hips to a halt, he rolled off her and licked his lips, staring up at the ceiling. Instinct pulled her to him, holding onto her protectively. He'd never done this before. Usually, after a romp with a woman, he tried his hardest to pretend he was asleep.

Hell, it wasn't even nine yet and they had the whole night.

She looked up at him with those beautiful eyes and gave him a lazy grin. "The Wolverine," she whispered and closed her eyes.


***

Never had she... never...

She didn't even know where to begin. She could only gaze at the ceiling as his finger drew lazy circles over her hipbone. He reached his arm up and turned out the lights. Neither one of them slept. Ororo wasn't sleepy at all. Her chest was still rising and falling rapidly and her heart was pounding. She thought for one fleeting moment that she might be dying of a coronary. Amazing what a nice roll around the sheets could to a woman.

Climax. She hadn't... climaxed in an awfully long time and she felt a small explosion beneath her eyelids when she had. Her body had been teetering dangerously over the edge and that one hard thrust had pushed her. It caused her to fall into an abyss that she was not sure she wanted to escape. A feeling like that was very dangerous...

The room smelled like sex. The sheets - tangled. Their legs - locked. She would have stayed this way. She picked up his hand and kissed his knuckles. It was a sort of... thanks for making her feel so damn good. Her lips brushed against rough bumps between his knuckles and she frowned slightly. "How'd you get these?" She asked him.

The look on his face when she asked it made her wish she hadn't.

"Don't worry 'bout it," was his curt reply and she left it at that. Though she felt safe with him for the moment, she had no intentions of upsetting a boxer, a successful boxer at that and so she refrained from saying anything else.

Logan pulled his hand away from her tender grasp and grunted as he rolled over on his side to face her.

"I got a question," he said, his eyes scanning her shadowed features in the moonlight. She felt like he was trying to memorize. She liked that feeling.

"Ask it," she smiled.

"How the fuck did you get so pretty?"

Rolling her over so she was on her back once more, they went at it again. This time, his thrusts were just a little slower.


***

When morning had come, Ororo's body ached. There were bruises on her thighs and he had marked her neck in several places. It should have bothered her, but it didn't. The warm body next to her made her smile and she opened her eyes. Frowning at the sun peeking through his curtains, she sat up in the bed slowly. She stretched her arms high over her head and the sheets slipped past her stomach and rested on the curve of her hips.

"Leavin' so soon?" A groggy voice made her turn around and she smiled down at him.

"What's it to you?" She asked playfully.

"Maybe I'd like to make you a fuckin' breakfast or something."

There was a long pregnant pause followed by their laughter. For the first time, she really began to see him. He was older than her. She had no idea by how much but she didn't mind it. She'd been with men older than him she was sure. His eyes were dark and bore plenty of stories she was sure he had no plans of telling her. She was no one to him, but a nice good fuck.

Then she would be gone.

And he would find someone else.

His teeth, she mused, were absolutely perfect. There was not one flaw about them and they contrasted with the rest of his face. That was not to say that his face was not beautiful. Oh, it was quite the contrary. The fine lines around his eyes made her lean in and kiss the side of his face. His guttural grown or growl he gave in response to her lips contacting with his skin made her body shiver. His hands were so thick, calloused, and large compared to her own slender hands. His facial features were chiseled like some starving artist's inspiration. The angled jaw and pointed chin stuck out when he looked back up at the ceiling. The flesh colored scar under his eye caught her attention. Ororo could tell that it was once a gash. She was an expert at these things. She traced her finger over the scar and he grabbed her wrist in a strong grasp but not where it would hurt her.

"Don't be doin' that, darlin'."

She perked an eyebrow at the word and smirked.

"I'm going to get something to drink," She pulled her wrist from his grasp and slowly snaked her way out of bed.

She could feel his eyes on her naked form as she walked out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. Somewhere along the night she had rid herself of her shirt and she had no idea where any of her clothes were.

Standing on the tips of her toes, Ororo opened the counter and hummed to herself as she fixed a glass of water from the sink.

Logan looked at the scars in between his knuckles as soon as she left the room and he fought the sudden urge to hit something. Last night, flowing white hair filled his dreams instead of his usual visitors and he looked at the empty spot she had been sleeping in. He caught the scent of her hair from the pillow and fell on his back, imagining that her long shapely legs were straddling over him again.

Getting out of the bed and following her lead to not bother dressing, he slipped quietly into the kitchen. He stood in the walkway and admired her from behind. She was the ideal of physical perfection. Her legs seemed to never end and there was a small mole on her left ass cheek. Her back was straight and she looked like a goddess just standing there, simply drinking water.

"Hey," he grumbled, making her jump. She turned around and her widened eyes narrowed.

He walked over to her and lifted her up and sat her on the counter. "One more for the road?" He asked her, already slipping inside of her.

"Yes, just one more," she replied, setting the glass aside and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The rays of the sun greet my body
I am naked in your world

Come walk me through the garden
And fill me with your love

Satisfy - Me'Shell NdegéOcello

---

Murder.

Victor Creed had done horrible things in his life, but he was not a murderer. The night before Ororo had left him, she called him a murderer and that was just something he wasn't.

"It ain't like I did it on purpose, baby." His arms were out in front of him, his way of apologizing and he was walking closer to her. "It ain't like I did it on purpose," he repeated. The black duffel bag full of unmarked bills was sitting on the dresser that she had just backed into. Her eye was still swollen and bruised from their last argument. She was beautiful.

Tears filled her eyes and she turned away. "Victor, I can't do this." Her voice began to tremble and that damn bottom lip quivered. Wrapping her arms protectively around herself, Ororo turned her back to him. The white hair stood out more than anything in this dark bedroom. The furniture was a dark chocolate colored wood, painted over the original Mahogany. Black satin sheets, black satin curtains, his own black boxer shorts, and her in her black robe that hung open in front.

Victor frowned and took one large step across the room and was now standing behind her. His large hand gripped her forearm, so tiny underneath his bear-like hands. She made a sound of surprise and he turned around roughly to face him.

"You ain't goin' nowhere," his eyes widened and he could tell she was afraid because the muscles in her arm had tightened. He did not release his sudden death grip on her arm however.

"You know how much I need ya'," he pressed his nose against the side of her face and inhaled her scent. "You won't leave me. I didn't mean to hurt you, Snow White." A strangled sob escaped her lips and she was fighting him.

He hadn't even realized his hand was around her throat.

"I'd die without ya'. Ya' hear me, ya' bitch. I'd die without ya'. You can never leave me. Ever." He lifted her up and tears rolled down her cheeks. Ororo's eyes had gone wide and her legs kicked wildly. As if she weighed next to nothing, he tossed her in the direction of the bed. Suddenly, blinded by his own rage and angry tears, he pulled the drawers out, frantically searching for something.

"Do you love me?!" He was full on yelling.

There was no answer, just pleading and sobbing from her end. When he had thrown her across the room, her side hit the corner of the bed and she had curled up to wrap her arms protectively around her knees.

"Do you love me?!" He demanded to know, needed to know. If she said no, he would kill her right now.

Finding what he had been so desperately hunting for, Victor pulled out his .38 and the resounding click went throughout the room. Ororo's sobs had stopped and he turned to face her. She looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and he knelt down next to her. The cold hard steel of the gun rested against the side of her face and he tapped the side of her head gently.

"You know I'm not afraid to kill myself." He held her close to him and he could hear her silently sniffling.

They sat there in silence for what felt like hours but only lasted seven minutes.

Tears had filled his own chocolate brown eyes and pressed his lips to her cheek. She flinched but he paid no attention to it.

"Do you love me?" He asked in a whisper.

Her voice was hoarse when she answered weakly, "Yes," and she began to nod her head furiously.

Victor sat the gun aside and lifted her from the floor and pushed her onto the bed. "Do you?" He asked once more and turned her over. She buried her face into the pillow and tried to muffle her tears but failed miserably as she was sobbing by now.

"Do you?" He asked again, pushing her robe over her backside and taking her behind in both his hands, digging his nails into them and drawing blood. She cried out in what could only be pain. He tore her skin as his nails raked down her backside and over her thighs. Hastily pushing his boxers down, he hovered over her trembling body for a moment.

He thrusted into her from behind roughly and she couldn't help but do it.

She screamed.


***

Taking a great breath of air, Ororo bolted upright in the bed and clutched her stomach.

She was having the nightmares again.

"Somethin' goin' on?" Logan rolled over on his back and sat up, leaning over to turn on the light. Ororo turned to look at him and she could see his facial expressions change from sleepy and confused, to a concerned frown.

"I have to go," she blurted out and pushed the covers back. He didn't argue with her and she was grateful for that. Picking up her jeans and shirt, she looked over her shoulder at him and sighed. "Logan, we can't - "

"Can't what?" He brought his knees up and swung them over the side of the bed. "Can't fuck anymore?" His words would shouldn't have stung but for some reason, they did.

Ororo slipped on the blue jeans, not bothering to find her under garments. She pulled the shirt on over her head and smoothed back her platinum hair. She stumbled as she put on her shoes, hopping on one foot, then the other. It would have been amusing if it were not for the certain circumstances.

"What happened? Bad dream?" His voice was low and there was a hint of annoyance to it. How dare he be annoyed when she was the one having the nightmares?

"It is not of your concern," she replied curtly and headed into the living room to get her jacket.

"Yer in my house, so I suppose that does make it my concern." He was leaning against the door frame in his bedroom, completely naked and gorgeous. Ororo turned to look at him and looked away. "That is why I am leaving," she slipped into the jacket and put her hair up and slipped the wig over her head. She adjusted it, tucking in stray white hairs and primping the sides of it. Those ugly dull brown curls hung at her shoulders and she could see him wince when she turned to look at him.

Was she ugly without her white hair to him?

What should she care what he thought in the first place? Obviously, they were both two lonely pathetic souls and the only good thing they could get out of this would be a good lay. He had asked for just one more and she had given him that. She owed him nothing else.

"I see yer just as fucked up as I am."

His tone was so calm and surprisingly sweet, she had to give him a small smile.

"Suppose."

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with."

Ororo's heart skipped a beat and somehow managed to successfully lodge itself into her throat. When she looked up again to lock eyes with him, he had already made his retreat into the bedroom. Without missing a step, Ororo adjusted her jacket, zipped it up, and made her exit without them exchanging any sort of goodbyes.


***

How dare she make that decision? What fucking right did it give her to decide to just leave?

Logan stood at his window, drawing the curtains back just a bit, watching her sashay down the sidewalk. Three small boys ran up to her and she stopped to talk to them. A moment later after apparently telling them her name, they waved goodbye to her.

His nostrils flared and he pressed his back to the wall, running his hands through his hair.

So she had nightmares too?

He wasn't lying when he declared her being a mess like him. She had been making strange noises since they had laid down. It wasn't as if they had been laying down for very long. She tired him out. Her long legs wrapped around him from the kitchen to the bed and all that hair flying as she rode him like he was that Harley that was parked in that makeshift garage.

He wasn't lying when he declared her the most beautiful woman he'd been with, either.

Don't get him wrong, he had his fair share of women. From the lowest of trailer park trash to the most exotic beauties a person could come across. All those women, however, couldn't compare to the catch walking down the street now. He was waiting for it, waiting for that moment when he would have to stumble back and try to catch the heart she'd somehow managed to steal. He didn't even know this woman's last name and he found himself being drawn into her more and more as she walked down that sidewalk. Even an ugly dirty sidewalk littered with trash and children's chalk seemed beautiful when she walked over it.

He lifted his arm over his head and held on to the top of the window.

She turned around and looked up at him, the breeze picking up around her and that ugly brown wig whipping about her face.

One more smile and he smiled back down at her.

It was the first time he had smiled, genuinely, in months.

What the hell was happening?

Birds in the tree sing a song for me
About being young and foolish and naive

I haven't changed that much from what i see
I was only trying to make things right

Young and Foolish - Corinne Bailey Rae

---

"She is a thief!"

A young Ororo looked up at the dark haired woman in her tailored three piece suit. The bun was so tight on the woman's head, Ororo thought her temples were going to explode. She reminded Ororo of a vulture the way her large nose seemed to hang over her thin lips. The crow's feet around the woman's eyes told Ororo that either the woman had to be in her mid-thirties to late forties or she just aged extremely horribly.

She looked from the woman to the man in the wheelchair.

Earlier she had jokingly asked to shine his head for a nickel when she wandered the shopping center. He simply smiled at her and the red haired girl pushing him stifled a small giggle as the boy in glasses kept a straight face.

Now, she was about to be sent to jail by the very same man because she had gotten caught stealing in a store that he apparently owned.

Just her luck he had come to browse the store with his two children no less when Ororo needed money.

"Sir, Mr. Xavier, please let me handle the situation. It is the holidays and you know how thieves love to lurk the mall when it's so busy like this. I will call mall security and she will back at her foster home on no time."

At least the woman had enough decency to not want to throw her in jail.

"In my opinion, she should be in jail."

Nevermind.

Fifteen years old and at the peak of her career of crime, Ororo had been on top of her game. She had known she could get away with most things because of her looks. It had nothing to do with her being pretty, it was just the simple fact that she looked so damned odd. A black girl with sapphire blue eyes and hair whiter than the snow that fell from the sky. People would stare so often, she had taken the habit of taking advantage of their ignorance by getting money, jewelry or anything that she could use to feed herself.

Of course, now she was going to starve because Miss Prissy here had decided to catch her and show her off to the owner of the store. She really wasn't surprised that the woman made a fuss and declared she be sent off immediately. She just...

"I hate it there," she spoke up, looking down and pushed stray hair from her face.

"Obviously you don't hate it enough if you decide to follow this path." The woman motioned her hand out dramatically to the store.

"Well, I gotta' eat and there ain't nobody else feeding me!" She retorted, jerking her arm out of the woman's grasp.

Perfect.

Ororo took off in a sprint, her dirty sneakers kicking up behind her and hands like blades. She laughed and looked over her shoulder. Every time she made a run for it, she thought about the Gingerbread Man. That was the story they read to the "children" at her foster home every Christmas. Of all the stories to read to children who had now become teenagers, those two idiots chose the god damned Gingerbread Man story.

Linda and Neil Peacock. God, she hated the names. She hated the people. It was damn near four years and she was still living with these people. Linda was so neurotic, the kids were afraid to walk in front of her without her snapping or bringing a hand to their face. And Neil... well, Neil was quite fond of Ororo and that reason alone made her never want to come back.

The night she ran away she had to fight Neil off her as if she were the adult. All the while, Neil, putting his erect penis on Ororo's thigh and gyrating, telling her that she was a woman now and she would do the things Linda no longer did.

Before Ororo had kneed him in the groin she screamed that she wasn't his "fucking wife" and had jumped out of the window fully dressed before any of the other children or Linda had made it to the room.

"Come back here!" The woman yelled after Ororo but they couldn't catch her. Didn't they read the fucking Gingerbread Man story?

Her hair fell from her messy ponytail she had donned and she turned back around, running into a large uniform clad chest and fell back with an "oomph".

One monstrously large hand reached down and pulled her up gruffly by the arm.

"Ow," she winced as his blunt fingernails dug into her skin. "That hurts. Come on, I gave it back. It's not like I kept it. I gave it right back!" She tussled and fought with the police officer but successfully failed at a second escape. It looked as if she were going back to that blasted foster home tonight. What a wonderful Holiday she was having.

"You can let her go," an accent that sounded vaguely like her mother's made her stop her ridiculous fighting with the officer and she turned to look at the man. He was from England, too?

Ororo remembered the story of her father finding his mother sitting at a cafe in England, taking polite little sips of tea and reading a newspaper, humming to herself all the while.

"Release her arm," he said once more and Ororo was shocked to find the bald man she had so eagerly teased earlier. He was probably going to turn her in himself. "Only if she promises not to run," he added hastily.

They locked eyes with one another and his warm blue eyes told her that she could trust him. He was not another Neil or any other man she had come across since the death of her parents for that matter. The bald man, who she suddenly remembered was called Mister Xavier, slowly nodded. The tight hold on her arm released and she turned to look up at the police officer and nodded her head.

"Yeah, that's right. You let me go. Don't make me have to hurt you." She rubbed her aching arm tenderly and turned to look at the man. Holding out two wrists together, she looked down. "Take me back. I'll go back with no arguing."

His gentle laugh made her want to laugh with him. She looked up and the boy in glasses was looking at her intently. His brown eyes piercing into hers. Why so serious? She wanted to ask him but opted not to and turned to face the pretty red haired girl. Her green eyes were lovely, she noted.

"My name is Charles Xavier," he extended a hand to her. Ororo looked down at the hand for a moment and looked up at him. She slapped him five and smiled. "Ororo Munroe, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Charles Xavier chuckled and sat his hand back in his lap. "It seems, Miss Munroe, that you have been in quite a bit of trouble." Ororo looked down at her sneakers and frowned. She really wished she had better sneakers or even clothes. She felt ridiculously out of place standing across from Mister Xavier in his crisp expensive blue suit and shining leather shoes. The red haired girl wore an oliver sweater that really brought out the color in her eyes, a black skirt, and beautiful black shoes. "This is my niece, Jean Grey."

"Nice to meet you, Jean." Ororo moved her hand behind her back, hiding the tear in her dirty sweater and blushed. Though Jean didn't seem to notice very much.

"This is her friend Scott Summers," the boy in glasses, Ororo nodded her head at him. He was dressed so nicely in his black vest and white dress shirt underneath. A pair of khaki pants and black dress shoes to match. He was rather attractive. He gave Ororo a small nod and both of them looked down at Charles Xavier. He didn't bother looking up at them, he kept his eyes on Ororo.

"So, you don't like your current living quarters?" He inquired, crossing his hands over his lap.

Shyly, she shook her head and slowly looked up at him.

"Ororo," he said her name so beautifully, "would you come with me? We shall have a talk about your current living conditions.


***

Ororo stood outside on the stoop, facing the brownstone she once lived in. If she listened closely enough, she could still hear her and Jean singing some popular eighties song while Charles would simply laugh or occasionally join in with them.

She looked down and let out a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," she began to repeat. Her stomach flipped nervously and she looked back up at the home. "Charles, I'm so sorry." She hadn't bothered with the wig this time. Her platinum tresses hung about her shoulders and she was dressed in what would be her nicest clothes. A simple long sleeve white top and a flowing white skirt. Charles had told her that white always did look lovely on her.

He often called her and Jean his angels. If only he had known.

She was no angel.

This was not going to work. She looked up at the house, with its flowers sitting neatly in their pots around the door. She spotted an umbrella resting against the side of the top of the stairs. A nice black umbrella. She couldn't help but laugh at the simplicity of it all. This was a home. Ororo had proven time and again that she did not belong in a home. After countless times of running away from her former foster parents, she had done the same thing to dear Charles. It was at her own immaturity that she had done it and though she regretted it greatly, she had learned from it.

It had taken four years and broken ribs, but she had learned.

Turning to go, Ororo bit her bottom lip and clutched her purse tightly in her arm.

"Ororo?"

Jean's soft voice made her turn around and she looked up to find her old friend standing there. Jean had grown into a beautiful woman as Ororo had always known she would. Still clad in green to bring out the color in her eyes, she ran down the steps two at a time and wrapped Ororo in a warm embrace. The hug was so inviting and reminded her so badly of old times that she couldn't help but burst into tears.

Jean's hands caressed the small of Ororo's back and she began to guide her up the steps and they were suddenly inside the house.

"You stay right here," she told Ororo, gripping her forearms and then walked away, leaving the living room.

Ororo looked around at the living room and smiled through her tears. Her vision was blurred slightly but from what she could see, most of everything was still the same. The piano still sat directly across from the fireplace. The antique furniture lined so perfectly with the entertainment set. Frames of Ororo, Scott, and Jean covered the wall and she was honestly surprised to find her photographs still anywhere in the house.

On the fireplace were photos of Charles in his younger days with his late wife, Moira. They heard many stories about her.

A photograph of Jean and Ororo, both the ripe age of eighteen, in their cut off jeans and arms linked around one another's necks. They had been so happy. Why had she left this all in the first place?

Jean had come back with a box of tissue and handed a small handful to Ororo.

She took the tissue and wiped her eyes. Jean laughed a little, her own eyes red rimmed.

"You're still so regal. Even when you cry." Both of them laughed and hugged once more.

Looking around once more, Ororo turned to Jean and her smile grew. "Jean, where is Charles?" She hoped she wasn't too rude when she had asked, but she could no longer keep herself from it.

Jean laughed and shook her head. "Not here! Scott and I took this as our own home and well, Uncle Charles now lives in Westchester. He owns a foster home, more like a mansion really." She had to chuckle again. "He takes in children from all over the country, all over the world - would you like to visit him?"

"I - well, I'm busy today."

That made Jean frown and she would have argued the point but the sound of a baby's cry from upstairs made her hold up one finger. "I'll be right back, Ororo." She smiled at her friend, her sister and trotted upstairs.

So Jean had a child now? Ororo watched her with that familiar twinge of envy as she made her way upstairs. How nice it must have been to have a child... and a husband. She and Scott had finally married one another and started on that family she knew the both of them so longingly dreamed of.

Visiting Charles would not be a good thing for her. Ororo knew this. She had left on such bad terms...

"Ororo, I would you like to meet my daughter, Rachel." Jean came down with a small bundle in her arms but her smile turned to a frown.

Ororo had run again.

Can't run, cant hide (you can't run)
You know you can't get away
I often wonder who you know
What you thinkin, where'd you go, baby

Can't Run, Can't Hide - - JRAY

---

I'd die without ya'.

Those were the last words Victor Creed remembered saying the previous night when he awoke in the morning. Usually a light sleeper, he wondered how Ororo could have slipped from his grasp without waking him. A smirk played on his lips and he cockily sat up in the bed, flipping back his blond hair. He had given it to her good. And it served her right.

Who was she to walk around on her high and mighty horse and decidedly cast judgement on him?

The plan had gone awry, that was all. It wasn't like he had intended on killing that man.

Not that soon, anyway.

He yawned and scratched his leg. Adjusting himself, under the sheets he called for Ororo and looked around. Something wasn't right about this setting. The many nights he and Ororo fought (a fight consisting of him tossing her around and fucking her until she passed out), she would be up the next morning, fixing breakfast for the both of them. Scratching his pits and snorting, he called for her and climbed out of bed.

Walking naked and admiring himself in the mirror as he passed, he never noticed the black duffel bag missing from the top of the dresser.

"Oror - ooo!" He called her name in a sing-song voice. Spreading his legs, he began to use the restroom, using his free hand to scratch his backside.

He was almost done when realization suddenly hit him and he jiggled himself clean.

"What the fuck?!" He cried angrily and turned to look at the empty spot that once belonged to the black duffel bag.

His heartbeat pounded into his ears and he felt as if he were going to be sick. Things began to move in slow motion as he stepped towards the empy spot that belonged to the duffel bag and hit the counter top. He yelled but due to the pounding in his ears, he couldn't hear himself scream.

That bitch had stolen his money. He did not bother with covering himself as he ran from his bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the (unlocked) front door.

The car was gone.

"BITCH!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

He ran back inside, slammed the front door.

"I'd die without ya'," he whispered to himself.

He headed back upstairs slowly and sat down on his side of the bed. "Ororo, Snow White, baby, you done fucked up. Royally." He pulled open the drawer to his bedside table and pulled out his Thirty-eight Special and pressed it to the side of his face.

"You'll die without me."

...


Down. Down. Down for the count. Logan looked at his fifth shot of tequila and smirked. One more of these and Tom, Phyllis, and scrawny little Weasel would be dragging him home.

"I think you've had enough," Weasel's soft voice came from the other side of the room.

"Ain't it past your bedtime?" Logan turned and shot his eyes in the direction of Weasel, who was sitting at a table in the corner with his nose buried deep in a text book and his left hand moving furiously as if he were taking notes.

There was only a handful of customers left in the bar and Phyllis had turned in for the night, making her complaints be known about her lousy tips for the night. Tom kept quiet as usual, always keeping an eye on his boy Weasel and calming down the rowdiest customers, which were really just a few drunk assholes here and there that liked to keep up a lot of noise.

A few of them decided to calm down and stay. The booze was cheap here and Logan couldn't blame anyone that wanted to stay around for the booze. Considering there wasn't a cage fight tonight, the bar was next to empty and it looked about as pathetic as it did when Logan came during the day. The broken television in the top right corner on the left side of the bar, caught Logan's eyes and he couldn't help but to laugh.

"What's so goddamn funny?" A man's throaty growl came from behind Logan.

He didn't even bother turning around. What trouble was it worth? It was just going to be an ugly face that he'd have to make even uglier by the end of the night. Tom didn't bother to look up either.

"One more, Tom." Wolverine tapped the shot glass and slid it towards Tom. He put his elbow up on the bar and put his chin in his hand. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to play a little before he went home.

"Hey, you ugly bastard. What the hell is so goddamn funny?"

Sighing, Logan turned around and could not believe his eyes. "Didn't I fight you a few months back?" Logan could not hide the smirk from his face. He could never forget this face, even if he wanted to.

It was Jimmy "Babyface" Richmans. Babyface was putting it lightly. Jimmy Richmans made a baby look corrupt. He had the eyes of an angel, dimpled chin, rosy cheeks that kind of creeped out other men, and after Logan was done with him, the same amount of teeth that a one year old posessed.

"Well if this don't beat all! I see you still have your baby teeth!"

And that was all it took.

Babyface Richmans had jumped up and made the swing for Logan. Narrowly missing but tilting slightly from his large consumption of alcohol, Logan had turned and nailed Babyface Richmans with a punch to the back of the neck. Richmans cried out in pain and one of the men from his pathetic group of an entourage had jumped up and was making the jump for Logan. By this time, Richmans had regained his ground and his fist connected with the corner of Logan's mouth.

"Now why is it that a bastard's always got to go for the corner of another bastard's mouth?!" Logan didn't bother wiping the blood from his mouth as his fist slammed into Richmans' jaw, sending him backwards and making his head bounce loudly and painfully off the bar.

"One down." Logan walked over to the bar and downed his tequila shot, the one that would have him dead to the world and commenced to kicking some more ass.

...

"Out! Goddamnit, Logan!" Tom was practically shoving Logan out of the bar. "You realize, Jimmy (he rarely called him by his first name, nickname, or any other name), that this is the ... goddamn I don't even know how many times I've had to kick you out and go clean up a pile of pathetic bastards!?" He flailed his arms dramatically as Logan stumbled backwards.

"Damnit! Go home and sleep it off!" He was about to yell once more and sighed, giving up.

"Just - go home." His hard expression softened and he patted Logan on the shoulder. He'd wait a moment and let Logan leave before he sent the poor assholes home or wherever the hell they went to clean their wounds.

A fifteen minute brawl that felt like an hour left Logan with a cut eyebrow, bruised lip, and aching ribs. He was going to kill himself this way. He was quite sure of it. Fighting was the only thing he knew. He came into the world fighting so he may as well go out the same.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Pulling a cigarette from the pack, he lit it up and looked up at the moonlight. Where was she and what was she doing right about now?

"You know those will kill you, don't you?" An all too familiar accented voice caught his attention. He turned his head in the direction of her voice. Still slightly drunk, he stumbled in the direction of her voice and laughed. "I'll be dead before it kills me." It made no sense but it sounded so right coming from his lips.

Coming from the shadows and wearing a large jacket with a hood over her head, his 'Ro reached up and pulled the cigarette away from his lips slowly. Logan's lips were pursed and he decided not to suck on air, desperately needing and wanting that cigarette. He needed some sort of dignity.

She tossed the cigarette over her shoulder and smiled.

"Why did you - " he was silenced by a long, thin, beautiful finger pressed to his lips.

"Shh," she said.

Quick as a flash, his keys had been taken from his jacket. How on earth had she...

"I'll drive," she commanded in her sweet voice and all Logan could do was climb on the back of that motorcycle and wrap his arms around her waist like a child that had finally found their lost teddy bear.

...


Victor Creed looked over his shoulder and back at the road. The engine purred as he sped along the highway.

His destination was Ororo Munroe and he knew exactly where she had gone to hide.

His gun lay protectively at his side as he turned a dangerous curve almost flipping the car over. He should be extra careful with this car. His former associate, David Moran sat on the toilet in his five thousand dollar condo home with his brains splattered on the wall.

Of course, Victor really didn't need to kill David. But when a man kills, a man gets more money. Not only does a man have a trunk full of unmarked bills that could total up to well over a million dollars, but a man is now the owner of a baby blue nineteen sixty-five Buick Wildcat. Life was great.

It was going to be even greater when he found Ororo, took back his duffel bag of money and smash that pretty little head to pieces.

He couldn't wait to see the look of surprise on her face when he could come waltzing through whatever seedy motel room door she would be hiding behind.

The surprise would just kill her!

I try not to fall for make believe
But what is reality?

Where do we go?
What do we know?

Life has to have a meaning

Show me the light
Show me the way

Show that you're listening

Show Me - John Legend

---

"Why is it that every time I find you, you're all bloody and bruised up?" Ororo asked Logan after she made her way up the stairs to his apartment. He had given her instructions, albeit slurred, on how and where to park his motorcycle. That was a chore within itself. What was even harder was getting this man (a very muscular and very heavy man) up the stairs and to his apartment.

"You find me like that because you love taking care of me," his slurred speech made him laugh. He fell over and his forehead bumped against the wall. Ororo jiggled his keys and began the hunt for which key would open the front door to his apartment.

Logan plopped down on his backside and unlaced his worn leather boots. He pulled them off and handed Ororo a key. She took it with a smirk and unlocked the door. Falling back, Logan began to sing a song about boxing and women. "You know, you are a terrible drunk," she stood behind him and took each arm with hers and pulled him back into the room.

Men were like children. This she was sure of.

"Get up. Go." She slapped his backside heartily as he stumbled into his bedroom, undressing and leaving a trail of clothes behind him in his wake.

Ororo locked the door, dropping his key into his boot and following behind him.

When she crawled into the bed next to him, his head fell in her lap and he asked her in a gentle voice that almost scared her, "Why did you come back?" She looked down at his messy black hair and sighed. She had no idea, really.

Running away from Jean and Scott's home, she ultimately felt lost. There was nothing worse for her than to feel completely lost. There was nowhere to turn. She wouldn't dare step foot near Mr. Xavier. All the kind things he had done for her. Only for her to go running off with the same man he had warned her about. Charles had warned her once, twice, and on that third time she was leaving with a suitcase of clothes and Victor Creed in tow.

Getting to Las Vegas was a journey she did not want to remember.

The first man she had ever been with was decidedly her last when they arrived to Las Vegas. Things had started off wonderfully. In fact, they were too great. Money seemed to fly into her hands. Though she never questioned Victor, she was not stupid. Being raised on the streets she knew there was no such thing as magic money. Everything went fine for her.

That was until David Moran came into the picture.

Her eyes closed and dark images filled her head.

She tried desperately to open her eyes to erase all the bad thoughts. She wanted to make them go away. A hand, a foot, her face bloody and bruised... all of these dark images. Victor, taking his gun and bending her over his lap to hit her with the pistol.

Logan's snoring startled her and she opened her eyes abruptly, trying to regain her composure.

...


No child should ever be responsible for blood on his hands.

He couldn't have been any older than eight years old that night. It was the night he would never forget as long as he lived. It was a stormy night, April thirteenth, but he couldn't remember the year. It was the only thing about that night he couldn't remember. He supposed that was the reason he couldn't quite remember how old he was.

Thunder roared outside and his three year old brother Cain was huddled under the bed.

"Daddy's home," his little brother whispered.

Sure enough, the sound of his father's work boots trudged through the house. The refrigerator door opened and it began to pour outside. A beer bottle being opened seemed to ring out through the eerily silent house.

Little James Howlett curled his knees up to his chest.

"Who's first?" He whispered, already feeling tears fill his eyes.

"Where have you been?" His mother's voice startled him and he snapped his eyes shut.

Then came the loudest shouting match little James had ever heard between his parents.

"Don't you worry about it, woman! I'm home now and that's all the matters. Get outta' my fuckin' way. I wanna' see my boys."

"You stay 'way from them, James. You just stay 'way!"

There was a tussle, a sharp slap, and a loud cry from his mother. A slight thud as she had clearly given up on the fight.

"You're drunk! Why don't you just sleep it off!"

"Don't you tell me what to do!"

The sound of a hard smack and his mother's cry made James climb under his own bed. He was now facing his younger brother and they both stared at one another, silently crying.

His father had done a number on his mother. From loud smacks to punches and cries for help, James didn't think he could take much more.

Their bedroom door swung open and Cain began to cry loudly as their father walked over and all but flipped the bed over, yanking his younger brother from underneath it violently.

"Stop it!" James screamed, sounding like the small child that he was. "Just stop it! Just leave him be! You're not our father! You can't do this to us!" That cost him a backhand to the face and he went flying back.

Logan bolted upright in the bed and grabbed the first thing nearest him. A pillow. Too soft to be his pillow.

He cradled it protectively in his arms, thinking of his brother. He brought a hand to his face and wiped the tears that had absently spilled in his sleep. "Make him go away," he said softly, looking around the room.

The pillow he had cradled in his arms struggled and he felt a soft hand reach up and cup the side of his face. He almost purred at how perfect the touch was.

Ororo didn't bother to ask who he was. She simply sat up, the sheets falling down to her lap and revealing her nude form in the moonlight. "I'll make him go away," she said softly. "I'll make him go away."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips softly to his.

His hand cupped the back of her head and he pressed his lips firmly to hers. Tilting her head aside, she moved her hand into his hair and gently grabbed a handful of his hair tugging softly. Ever the expert, Logan slid her downwards so that she was lying on her back and he was laying over her. Their lips never left one another and he knew he would die soon if he didn't come up for air but he just didn't give a damn.

Ororo felt exactly the same.

She should not be doing this. She should not be like this. Not here. Not now. Not with this man. Her leg slowly rose and her knee was in the air. Before he had his nightmare, she had nursed him and cleaned up those wombs. She stripped him completely naked and curled next to him, feeling more safe than she had ever felt.

"I wanna' take my time with ya'." Logan's gruff voice in her ear sent chills over her spine. She nodded her head, feeling her entire body tremble.

"No need to be scared, darlin'. Yer in good hands."

She nodded once more, her chest rising and falling rapidly as heart beat picked up. He buried himself in between her legs and slowly rocked against her. As if Ororo needed any sort of coaxing. The very sight of him sent a warm blast of heat to her nether regions, she didn't know how she managed walking around this man.

Once their bodies began to rock against one another in the same rhythm, Ororo and Logan's lips were pressed together once again. This time, their kisses were more desperate, aching to feel all of one another. She tasted so sweet and the Tequila on his breath made her body arch into him. He lowered his head to leave a trail of wet kisses to her breasts.

Logan admired her full breasts, devouring each of them, making sure to pay attention to both of them properly. Her moans only edged him on as his tongue lapped over her nipple, dipping his head back and forth, pulling them gently with his teeth and slightly twisting. He growled and moved his head lower, disappearing beneath the sheets.

His tongue swirled around her belly button and Ororo pulled the sheets away so that she could watch him work in the moonlight.

Logan looked up at her and smiled a feral grin that made Ororo arch her back.

In an instant, Logan had flipped them both over and he was laying on his back and her hips were hovering above his face.

"Give it to me," he commanded, pulling her down roughly and burying his face into her privates. Ororo could not contain the scream that escaped her lips and her nails scraped against the walls, peeling paint as they moved down.

Moving his tongue in figure-eight motions, Logan tried to bury his entire head into her, completely intoxicated by the scent of sex that oozed from her body. He could do this all day and never tire from it. She tasted so fucking delicious.

Ororo pounded a fist into the wall as her body rocked against his lips. His tongue knew how to do things she couldn't even think of doing. Was he trying to drive her crazy?

"Logan - oh!" she cried, arching her back. She moved her hands down to the pillow and began to grind against his face, her toes beginning to curl.

"That's right," he urged, each time her hips lifted off his, "Fuck my face."

The words. So dirty. Ororo bit her bottom lip as she came down hard on his face. Logan himself lifted his bum in the air. Ororo looked over her shoulder and cried out in ecstasy at the sight of his stiff erection and the sensitive spot he found. Logan's hands moved up to cup her backside and she instantly felt two fingers slip inside of her while his thumb fondled her backside.

It wouldn't be long...

Couldn't be long...

Crying out his name loudly she crashed her hips down over his face and her entire body trembled as her orgasm washed over her.

She breathed shaky breaths and before she could even gain any sense of being, Logan was pulling her down and entering her with a strong but slow force. She felt the curve of each vein in his throbbing erection as he entered her and she gave a silent moan, her lips parting widely.

Logan's eyes focused on those plump lips and imagined them where her sex was and that got him going.

He lifted his hips off the bed into her. His hands found her hips and he began to guide her over him. Ororo placed a hand on each shoulder and she began to rock down over him. Sitting up in the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head into the crook of his neck. His rocking slowed and he could hear thunder rumble outside.

Was it... raining?

His question was answered by the patter of rain against his window. He heard Ororo sniff but he didn't stop to see what on earth was happening. He held on to her for dear life as her hips lowered and he brought his own up each time. Their bodies rolled against one another and the rain became the soundtrack to their lovemaking.

Making love.

That was something Logan had never done, not even with the women he had kept for more than one night.

Ororo was different.

This, he knew.

The way he held on to her possessively was a sure sign. It was like he needed her to be there with him. Everytime he had a nightmare there was no one there to take the pain away. Women he had been with... it had been so distant between them. He had never had the pleasure of making love to a woman and now that he had, he thought...

"I can make all the bad go away," she whispered, resting her cheek against Logan's shoulder and staring out of his window, tears filling her eyes and spilling onto his shoulder.

His hand cradled the back of her head and kissed the side of her face as his hips picked up speed. Their bodies became one in the night and he curled his toes as he felt himself getting closer and closer to his edge. Logan rolled them over once more and he picked up his rhythm once more. Ororo's legs lifted into the air and she brought her knees close to her chest, crying out softly at the sensitive areas he reached in this position. She wrapped her legs high around his back and lifted her backside off the bed to meet his thrusts.

His hips went faster until he became dizzy from the motion of it all.

Taking a handful of sheet in his hand and twisting it around to hold out so she would get the opportunity to climax before him, Logan thought he would explode.

That is, if he were thinking at all.

Ororo writhed underneath him and she felt that tingling and intensifying feeling in the pit of her stomach.

It was heavenly. Her climax spread from the very tips of her toes to her skull and she felt like exploding. For things had never been so perfect before. It was almost scary. Even the first time she climaxed with Victor could not compare to this.

She drew him in to her and gasped as Logan spilled himself deeply into her, pinning her to the bed.

He was sure of it now. Breathing heavily and burying himself into her collar bone to inhale her scent, Logan just knew it.

He couldn't let her go.

Wouldn't.

If I can walk an empty mile
Then I won't feel afraid

No, I won't feel afraid
I won't be Be afraid

Anymore

Afraid - David Bowie

---

No nightmares.

It was a nice way to wake up. Logan turned over in his bed and his arm smoothed over the empty spot. He turned on his back and looked up to the ceiling and then looked to his right. Ororo stood there staring out of the window in her birthday suit, humming softly to herself.

"Sound real nice in the morning," he commented, his voice scratchy from sleep. What time was it? It had to be past ten. This wasn't normal for him. She gave a nice little 'hmm' and continued to look out of the window. The rain had carried over into the morning and she seemed to find it very soothing.

He couldn't complain about the rain either.

They made love three more times until they were both too tired to go on. He sat up in the bed and she turned around to face him. His eyes instantly darted to the cute little patch of snow white pubic hair over her mound and he felt himself ready to have another go.

"I know that look," she said in her sleek, sultry voice. "That look gets us into trouble." She turned back around to stare out of the windows. There would be no sun today, not while it continued to rain outside.

"I gotta' practice. I have a fight coming up soon." His eyes diverted to her perfectly round behind. He never understood the attraction to firm and flat. Give him something he could rest his head on like a pillow any day. Most men didn't know what they were missing. Though, he was quite sure that plenty of men would have given their left nut to be in his place.

Ororo sighed and pressed her head against the window. A man walked by and she watched him shake his umbrella then lift it over his head. That caught her attention and she leaned forward. A little girl came running out after him and he scooped her up. She smiled to herself. She would have been a great mother. She was sure of it.

Logan interrupted her thoughts when he moved swiftly across the room and stood behind her, making it very apparent the effect she was having on him.

"How'd you get such a perfect ass?" His hands moved over her behind and he gave it a firm squeeze.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask my mother and father that question."

Logan didn't want to think about a mother and father. He wasn't quite ready to kill the mood.

"So, you heading out again?"

Ororo sighed.

He didn't press the matter. Enjoy this woman while he had her. Every moment she was inside his apartment, she belonged to him and he took full advantage of it.

Positioning himself behind her, he bent her over farther so that her breasts pressed against the window. He wished someone was watching them. He'd have a fucking field day. Ororo didn't protest so he continued his morning feast.

Logan licked his fingers and brought them down between her legs. Perfect. She was already wet. He slipped his fingers over her mound and cupped her, wriggling his fingers around. Her back arched and she gasped at how cold the window was against her nipples.

Someone... would see them, she argued mentally. However, she had no intentions of asking Logan to stop.

He pulled his hands away and spread her legs widely apart.

Without any warning, he had shoved himself roughly inside of her. She cried out and pressed her palms to the window. Logan took her hips in his strong calloused hands and began to pound instantly into her. His head was bowed and eyes focused on the way her ass moved each time he entered her from behind. He felt himself getting weak in the knees at the sight of her. He gritted his teeth and slid his hand over her backside and up to the small of her back.

Ororo moved her body against him like she was doing a forbidden dance. Her hips reared back and rolled forward, moving in figure eights and circles.

"Goddammit, Ro', yer killin' me," he couldn't help himself as he had to pull back and regain his focus.

She gave a throaty laugh and Logan growled, moving back into her once more. His hips did not ease their way against her backside as his rhythms became rougher and harder.

Ororo gripped the edge of the windowsill and opened her eyes to look down at their unexpected audience. It was exhilarating knowing that any one of those people could look up and catch them in the act. He practically lifted her until the tips of her toes were touching the floor and she gave a throaty cry that startled the both of them.

Logan wrapped his arm around her small waist and pulled her back to him, bringing his hips forward with such a force that Ororo feared she would break the window.

Their bodies slammed against one another until Ororo's body shook violently with climax and Logan quickly followed suit.

Her body fell back and he held on to her, sweat gleaming on their bodies.

"Now that is the way to wake up," he panted, sliding slowly out of her.

***


Logan sat on his bike that was propped to the side. His hand rested idly on his blue jean clad legs and he tapped his boot impatiently. Watching Ororo was enough to make any man's blood stir. She stood at the booth, getting their lunch, slightly leaned over and her cute little butt sticking out. Logan's eyes never left her backside. Well, until he noticed the teenage boy fucking up their orders. He couldn't even carry the soda to 'Ro without tripping over his own two feet.

She looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged, giving him an apologetic smile. He attempted to be annoyed but he failed miserably when she gave him that smile.

After their romping breakfast, 'Ro said she needed to get back to her motel room and get a change of clothes. Logan had offered to drop her off before he went to practice at the gym. She had flat out refused until he weighed her down and she gave in.

What the hell was she trying to hide from him?

The boy gawked at Ororo's striking platinum hair and she seemed to not even notice the effect she had over him. Even the manager had done a double take and gotten his eyeful. Logan's knuckles itched.

Finding out where she resided was great for Logan. That meant he could pop up any time he felt like when she wasn't at his place. How odd was that? He was already trying to figure out ways to make this even more official.

He could've lied and said that the sex between them was amazing, and oh, the sex was beyond amazing, but with Ororo, things were very different. She made him feel safe. He had been completely vulnerable the night before and she wasn't condescending at all. She took him in her arms and she ... it was something he didn't have the opportunity to know when he was a child.

Now he couldn't get enough of it.

"Ready?" She carried two brown paper bags, grease already forming in the bottom of the bags. It didn't help that she was a sucker for a good cheeseburger either.

Hopping on the bike behind him, Ororo put on her helmet and they were off with the wind.

She wondered if he remembered the night before. It was a scary experience for her. She had never felt so many emotions before. This man, he had a power to make her feel vulnerable. She felt as if she truly did need him. Did he know that? Did he know how she felt?

He followed instructions wonderfully, finding the motel in less than an hour.

"Now, I have to warn you," she pulled off her helmet and shook her hair down her back. When she turned to look at Logan he was sitting on his bike, fresh out of magazine, lighting him a cigar and staring at her.

"What?" She asked innocently, picking up their lunch and turning towards the stairs.

"Yer fuckin' beautiful, that's what."

Ororo hid her face from him and smirked as she walked up the stairs.

"Anyway," she carried on, "I have to warn you. It's a bit messy. I don't intend on making this my home so I'm sort of living out of my suitcase."

Logan was barely paying attention to her speech about being a slob. It wasn't as if there were a piece of him all over his apartment. Clothes here, ashtrays there. It was really nothing.

Ororo pulled the key out of her jeans pocket and unlocked the door.

Before she even had the time to get inside, Logan was kissing the back of her neck. She laughed and turned around to wrap her arms around his neck. He slammed the door and lifted her up so that her legs would wrap around his waist.

"I don't care about you being no slob." He bared his teeth at her and she purred back.

One simple purr and that had done it for him. He smacked her bottom playfully and when he saw that she seemed to enjoy that, he did it again.

"Logan!" She cried out in mocked indignation and he threw her on the bed.

"Yer mine now," he said menacingly and crawled towards her.

Ororo blinked and her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Images of Victor crawling towards her with his hands automatically reaching like they were going for her throat. She felt herself panicking and when Logan climbed over her, she shoved him back with her foot and crawled back until she fell off the bed. That hurt her pride more than her backside and she shook her head.

"No." She held her hands up at him to protect her face.

Completely confused, Logan just pulled back to his feet and stared at her. What the fuck was happening here?

"You all right, darlin'? Looks like you having one of those... flashbacks or something." He could just imagine what he saw in the films. He could see the woman with her lover and thinking of the time she was raped and going schitzo.

He tilted his head to the side and walked towards her.

"No! Please!" Ororo shook her hands. "Just - let me -" she could barely stand and when she did, her knees went weak. She felt like crying but she didn't want him to see her cry. There was enough baggage between the both of them. Falling again, Ororo cried out angrily and tried to stand once more.

Victor was here. In New York. She could feel it. It was beyond the point of sickening. She clutched her stomach and felt herself go dizzy.

"Woah now!" Logan saw it coming before anything else. He ran over to catch her and lifted her up, supporting the back of her legs with his arm and cradling her to the bed. She had passed out. He laid her down on the bed and for the first time looked around the room. "Don't look junky at all. Looks more like you tryin' to run from something."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Or someone."

...

The smell of a greasy cheeseburger made Ororo sick to her stomach. She felt her food in her throat but pushed it back down. Sitting up slightly, she looked around the room and spotted Logan sitting in a wooden chair that looked all sorts of uncomfortable at what was supposed to be the "dining table". It really was just a piece of metal holding up a large glass plate. Their lunch barely had breathing room on that thing.

Logan had finished his food, she noted and he was looking out of the window, deep in thought.

"I thought you needed to practice for your fight."

He didn't reply.

She stared at the side of his head for a moment and waited for his reply. She opened her mouth to ask him once more but he cut her before she had the time to ask with his very abrupt question -

"Did you kill someone?"

What? What? What?

Ororo frowned and shook her head. He couldn't see her shake her head and so she replied with a quiet but horrified, "No!"

Logan slowly turned to look at her. "I'm an expert on runnin' away, you know." He looked over her motel room once more. There was a brown paper bag that she was practically eating out of. Her suitcase wasn't unpacked and whatever clothes she had already worn were folded neatly next to the suitcase. There was no toothbrush on the counter, the motel soap was still in its box.

"You're running. That's for damn sure." Logan pulled out the cigar he didn't get to finish when she was at the restaurant. He lit it and sucked on it slowly, savoring the scent. It was thinking time. Thinking time required cigars.

Ororo didn't say anything. She pulled the covers up to her chest, though it had to be one hundred degrees in this room.

"I won't judge you," he moved his arms in front of him in a motion that seemed like he was wiping his hands clean.

"I thought you had to practice for your next match," her tone was just a bit icy.

Logan laughed and blew a puff of smoke towards Ororo. "I can take a hint, darlin'."

"So glad that you can," she looked towards the counter and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and the shadows underneath her eyes scared her. She smoothed out her hair and turned back to Logan. Her tone warmed a bit and she sighed. "I just don't - I'm not -"

By now, he was getting up to leave and Ororo didn't push the matter for him to stay nor did he press the idea of her telling him what man she was running from.

In time, Logan knew that she would tell him. He'd be damned if she was getting away from him.

"Just want to you know that I ran, too, 'Ro. And I ain't runnin' no more."

Ororo watched him make his quick exit.

She looked down at her covered feet and picked at the sheet absently. It was easy for him to say. Whatever he was running from was nowhere near her problem. It wasn't big, scary, and blond.

What's done is done.
We cannot just write off his final scene.

Take heed of his dream.
Take heed.

The Gunner's Dream - Pink Floyd

---

Logan's words hit her. She felt as if a sledgehammer had been slammed into her chest.

"You're running. That's for damn sure."

She climbed out of the bed and pulled the curtains back and looked out. The atmosphere was just down right depressing here. She couldn't help but sigh loudly and pull the curtain back. A parking lot greeted her and another cheap, roach infected hotel across the street was her beautiful surroundings. The nicest thing was the corner/liquor store and considering she had been attacked just blocks away from it, she wasn't quite fond of it.

Ororo wondered how she got herself into these situations. It wasn't as if she had made the decision to lose her parents. Both her mother and father were killed in a robbery at a convenient store just down the street from their home in Harlem. Ororo had been waiting in the car, playing with her dolls that her grandparents had sent from Africa for her.

She was in the backseat, strapped in (because her mother was very strict when it came to safety) and humming to herself when the sound of gunshots had gone off. Her eyes widened and she looked up to see what the commotion was.

Her father was standing face to face with a man that had been dressed in black from head to toe. One thing led to another and Ororo found herself latching on to her mother and father while the police had to pry her hands off them. Her white pigtails were stained with her mother's blood as she cradled her head and kissed the spot she'd been shot.

The thought seemed almost hilarious to her.

She was so young and foolish to think that kissing a bullet wound would bring her mother back. That was, after all, what her mother had done when she would scrape her knee or hit her elbow.

How she missed her innocence when she was a child. That all seemed to be stripped away from her the day her parents were murded. And the man that killed them and robbed the convenient store? He was never found. Who cared about a small group of people in Harlem that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time?

No one.

That's why Ororo Munroe ran. All her life, she ran. That was the only thing she knew how to do. If running was going to keep her alive, she definitely wasn't going to stop doing it now.

...

"Ah, polluted air. You gotta' love it." Victor Creed slammed his car door shut and put his hands on his hips. To the common passer-by, he simply looked like a man sight seeing. There was no harm in that. Of course, the common passer-by did not know the things that had gone through Victor Creed's head. He could just imagine Ororo there, squealing to Charles about the things he had done to her.

Victor had a theory in life, though. There were people that kicked the shit out of people and there were people that got the shit kicked out of them. It was a very important theory in his life. Had he not learned this lesson, he would have gotten the shit kicked out of him his entire life.

He wasn't always bad.

Well... not when his mother abandoned him and his father decided to use him for a punching bag. Victor had to stand up and be a man. If that included bruising up and/or killing people, so be it.

The last time, if he remembered correctly, this cute little brownstone was once the home of Charles Xavier, that cute little red head Jean Grey, and his darling Ororo Munroe. He licked the tips of his fingers and brought them up to smooth up his mustache. He tugged at his Black Sabbath t-shirt and looked at his black boots. At least he was matching.

Crossing the street, Victor made his way up to the brownstone and knocked on the door, urgently, but politely.

He plastered his most winning smile on his face. Of course, it started fading when Scott Summers opened the door...

...


So you like this woman? You've barely known the woman? A few mind-blowing nights with her and you've... well, that.

With most women, it's just sex. It's always been just sex. Of course, this particular woman - this woman - with her platinum blond hair, azure eyes, and beautiful cocoa skin... It was different. Everything was different.

Dodge the jab and swing with the left hook.

Of course you wouldn't be able to take your mind off her. How could you? She has that sort of personality that grows on you. Kind of like a parasite but in a damn good way. Everything about her is perfect. Even the way she smells.

Is that crazy?

Obsessing over a woman that smells how it smells after a rainstorm?

Well, not a rainstorm in New York, of course. Not like fresh, wet garbage.

Air.

Freedom.

She smells like the clouds ought to smell after the storm.

Yes, that's perfect.

Right. Left. Circle.

It's good to have something take your mind off your father and brother for once. Now, instead of thinking of being abused, you think of being a protector. That has a nice ring to it.

Protector.

He felt as though his attempts at being a protector in the early stages of his life had fallen through. This time, with this woman - Ororo - he would do it right.

Stopping in full swing, Logan's thoughts had drawn a blank and he frowned. The first thing he needed to do was find out Ororo's full name.

...


Victor felt like someone had taken a knife and rammed it into his throat. He was expecting the red head or the old bastard to open the door. He remembered Scott Summers like he remembered his last piss.

Of course, now, things were much different.

Summers stood across from him dressed in a conservative combination of colors, a royal blue sweater with a white polo shirt underneath, khaki pants, glasses, and his hair combed perfectly. And oh how he'd grown.

No longer the little runt he remembered from years ago, Scott was now just as tall as him and if he was looking right, just as large as well.

"Look who's decided to become a man?" Victor mused and held out his hand. He laughed when Scott did not return the handshake.

"I'm surprised to see you're still here. That redhead finally let you in?" He teased and flashed his canines.

Scott still did not reply.

"All right, so I see this little reunion isn't going to last very long," Victor hiked his leg up on the top step and leaned an arm over it. "I'm looking for Charles Xavier. I only need to talk to him for a moment. It's really important."

Victor waited patiently for his answer. Now, Summers was a smart boy. He knew that much. The damn kid had graduated the top of his fucking class. He could make this easier for himself by cooperating and telling him where Charles Xavier was. His thirty-eight was just itching to make acquaintances with him.

Scott sighed and took off his glasses.

"Is this about Ororo?" Scott folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

So she was here. Excellent.

...


He had given her the entire day to gather her thoughts. It was now night time.

Heading up the stairs to the motel, he noticed a man working hard selling drugs to a crackhead just next to his motorcycle. If that bastard took his motorcycle he would kill him. The crackhead scratched the back of his neck and limped away, humming an old Joe Tex tune he loved.

Knocking on the door, he leaned back on the railing.

The door slowly opened and Ororo stood there, giving him the softest look he had ever seen a woman give.

"Let's go for a ride."

Climb on and take the wheel
There’s nothing here for you to fear

And my love won’t lead you wrong
Let me make this clear

Sweeter and sweeter
I’ll always make you feel

Sugar - Lenny Kravitz

---

Sometimes, when Logan liked to clear his head and escape from everything, he would hop onto his motorcycle and just... ride. He would get away from life, the town, the city that never slept, and find time to relax with himself.

He had no problem sharing the idea with Ororo. His entire reason for fighting was so that he would be able to move away from this godforsaken town and work on building a little wood cabin for himself. All he would need was his cabin and his cigars and everything else would just fall right into place. Now, of course, that he had the right woman, he knew things would be just fine.

What he liked most about 'Ro was that she didn't talk much. Actually, she could talk a little more if he could help it. Come to think of it, it was a little unsettling how she never asked him questions. That was usually the way it was when you were running from something though. You didn't want to know anything, you didn't care to know anything. It made everything else simple for you.

He smiled to himself as she held on tightly to him and he could feel her hair brush against the side of his face each time he turned a corner. She was barefoot as he had pulled her from the hotel room before she could protest. He waited for her to lock the door and had playfully carried her down the stairs and sat her on his motorcycle.

Logan took his time getting to his comfort zone and Ororo didn't ask any questions. She didn't ask where they were headed, didn't ask why they were leaving the city. She just held on tight and rode.

It was perfect.

After what seemed like hours of driving, Logan made an exit into a wooded area.

Looking around her, Ororo was full on ready to ask questions now. She hadn't asked earlier because she trusted him, but where the hell were they and what had he planned on doing?

"Where are we -"

He shushed her and slowed his bike down once they reached a clearing. They came upon a cabin and Ororo frowned. They were at a cabin in the woods and she had no clothes to change into. She didn't even have shoes. Logan had clearly lost his mind. She decided, however, not to protest and sat back to await his next random decision.

He climbed off the bike and dug deep into his jeans pocket and turned to wave a key at her.

"It belongs to my friend Tom. He owns the bar that I fight at."

Ororo had realized that she didn't even know the name of the bar he fought. Not that it really mattered, anyway.

He waited for her to climb off the motorcycle and she sized him up with a look that challenged him. She dared him to tell her to climb off and walk on this grass. Logan shrugged and walked over and lifted her off the back and carried her with ease to the porch. He sat her down and unlocked the door.

She watched as he pushed it open slowly and he reached an arm inside and clicked on the light.

"Well..." she said softly and slowly took a step in.

Logan walked behind her and slammed the door shut. Out here, he didn't have to worry about his motorcycle being stolen. It was just him, Ororo, and the cabin. He looked down at her bare feet and his eyes raked over her long legs. Her skirt clung to her thighs and backside. She obviously hadn't been wearing a bra either because when she turned back to face him, her nipples were staring straight at him. His eyes darkened with lust and he slowly walked towards her.

It was amazing the simple things a woman could do that could turn a man on. However, the look that Logan was giving Ororo made her blood boil. She let her head fall back and her mouth part slightly. She took a step back and tugged at her skirt.

It hadn't even been five minutes.

That had done it. Logan charged over to her and placed his lips in the base of her neck. He sunk his teeth into her skin, sucking and biting as she moaned. He couldn't wait much longer.

"Fuck, 'Ro," he groaned against her neck, trailing his tongue over her skin, tasting her and lapping her up like she was fresh cool water.

"How do ya' do it?" He pleaded, feeling himself go weak and not just in his knees.

She gasped when he trailed his tongue up to her earlobe and nibbled on it playfully. Her hands found their way into his hair where she tugged and pulled at roughly, feeling her own animal instincts kick in.

Logan had propped her leg up where he began to grind his hips into hers. The only sound that could be heard were the sounds of their hips bumping and the frustrated moan coming from their lips.

This was way too many clothes. Logan pulled down so roughly on her plain white tee shirt that he ripped it diagonally down the middle. Ororo cried out but she did not complain about her shirt. There was no time to think about a silly shirt. He continued to grind his hips to hers, his eyes opened and glaring at her now bare breasts. They were both so fucking perfect. He could stare at them until the damn cows came home.

"How do ya' do it?" He asked her once more. She arched her back high and her breasts sensitively ran against his own.

Fuck.

His head lowered and he began to roll his tongue around quickly and crazily. She moaned and gasped under his pressure. He was not gentle like the night before. Tonight he had a mission.

He was going to claim her for his own.

Logan had always been a rather possessive man, even when he was a child. He found things, fell in love with them, and no one would take them away from him.

He drew his tongue lazily over her nipples and she rocked her hips hard against him. He could only take one hint from that and he began to work his tongue crazy again. He flicked it against both her nipples quickly and tweaked them with his teeth, pulling back and devouring them. They reminded him of those Hershey Kiss candies in the silver package, except they tasted much better.

How did she do it?

His hands were holding on to her hips while he worked his hips the way he worked his tongue.

He wouldn't stop until she told him to.

Teeth marks were on her breasts now and the ache Ororo felt between her legs needed to be taken care of. She was so close to coming, she thought she may explode.

"Fuck me!" She urged him, surprising herself but continuing to say the words over and over until her voice went slightly hoarse.

Growling deeply, Logan pushed her skirt up, roughly ripped her underwear (making her cry out) and hastily undid his jeans. He pulled them down quickly and in a matter of seconds he was ramming himself inside of her. He held her up in the air while his knees were bent and dug his nails into her lower back.

She whispered for him to fuck her in his ear and it drove him crazy. He pounded his hips upward until they were pressed against the wall and he moved his hands to her hips. He opened his eyes to look at her and saw the most beautiful image. Her swollen lips were wet and parted with her tongue running against her top lip. She was still whispering for him to fuck her and so he made sure he would not disappoint her.

He held on to her hips, pulled back a bit and began to pound his hips quickly upwards, holding her hips down so that she could not move.

Her mouth opened but no sound came out and when it finally did, a scream rang throughout the house. Her hands were resting on his shoulders but moved down over his back and she scratched him, drawing blood no doubt. He did not care. She could have decapitated him if she wanted. He just wanted to please her.

She called out his name and damn near prayed to the Heavens while he gave it to her.

"You - belong - to me - " he managed to grunt, not easing up on her hips at all. His thumb only dug deeper into her hip bone.

He pulled out of her and slammed back in, bumping her against the wall. Leaning his head down, he kissed her fiercely and she bit his bottom lip, drawing blood. That only made him quicken his pace.

He didn't know how much longer of this he could take and before he knew, Ororo's walls had tightened around his shaft.

"Fuck - fuck - fuck" he cried out, pulling back and then slamming into her once more like he was trying to win a race.

"Fuck me - fuck me - fuck me!" She cried, moving her hands up to pull at his hair. She held on tight to a handful when their orgasms both washed over them and he spilled his seed into her.

She was shaking but she wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her head into his neck and let out a shaky breath.

"This ain't over," he whispered and once his legs had a normal balance, he stepped out of his jeans and carried her down the hall and into the bedroom.

...


Logan was propped on his elbow, trailing his finger over Ororo's bare behind. She was laying on her stomach, swinging her long legs and humming a tune that had Logan mesmerized.

"Whatcha' singin'?"

Ororo shrugged, "A tune that mother sang to me."

"Oh. Do you get along with her?"

"She's dead."

"Oh."

There was a silence followed by this. Logan's eyes never left her backside.

Ororo continued to hum.

"Yer fuckin' beautiful. You know that?" He felt himself floating to the sounds of her sweet voice. It reminded him the way warm honey went down your throat. She laughed at that and turned to look up at him. "So are you." She lifted her hand up to trail over the scar he had and smiled at him.

Well, if that didn't beat all.

She told him he was beautiful, too.

He didn't quite know how to react to that, having never been told anything except for the fact that was worthless or useless. He leaned down and bit her on the butt. She squealed out of surprise and he pulled back licking his lips.

"Just wanted to know what it tasted like."

"And what did it taste like?"

He thought about it for a moment and smirked. "Like the rain."

She nodded her head as if to say "oh" and continued her humming.

He laid down next to her and stared at her while she hummed. He didn't think he would ever get enough of her. With all the money he had saved from the fights and hustling around on the streets, they could leave and have a good life together.

"Do you like to travel?" He inquired and patiently awaited her answer.

Ororo nodded. "It's all I do. I have to travel soon."

Logan's stomach dropped at that. "How soon?"

"I'm waiting on my passport, so that I may leave. I might go to my mother's homeland and visit my grandparents."

"Oh, that would be all right," he agreed. "How do you feel about heading out north for a little while?"

She stopped her humming and turned to look at him. "You mean, north as in..."

"Canada, yeah," he finished the sentence for her. "I mean, I have a little piece of land that was left to me up there," he tried not to think about the bloodshed it cost. "You don't have to stay long if you don't want. I mean, you don't even have to go. I'm just thinking it would be nice." He stopped himself before he could make an even bigger ass out of himself.

Ororo turned on her back and sat up.

"I wish I could, Logan, but I really need to just get off this entire continent."

"Why?" He sat up next to her.

Ororo stared for a moment and then she sighed heavily. She was torn between telling him and just running out of the cabin. Considering her clothes were pretty much destroyed, she turned to look at him with sad eyes.

The brightness seemed to fade from her eyes when she began to speak.

"I'm running away from my ex-boyfriend." She could feel him stiffen next to her. This would be the first time she had ever talked about Victor Creed. "He was abusive, murderous even. I dated him for six years and it took that long for me to realize that he would never change." She looked away from him, feeling ashamed of how weak she was.

"He murdered one of his partners. They had this huge drug deal they were doing. I didn't know much about it. I just knew that it was over half a million dollars. He came home with blood on his hands. I was there, waiting for him, because I was silly enough to love him still."

Even when he didn't love her.

"He had blood on his hands," she repeated. "I remember the blood. I remember his other partner, David, they were both trembling." She could see it so clearly in her head. "When David had left for the evening, I told Victor he was a murderer. He didn't deny it. He just said it was an accident. How could it be an accident? Half a million dollars and he calls it an accident." She shook her head and she hadn't even realized she was crying.

"That night he told me if I left him he would kill me. He beat me bloody and then he took me. He pushed me over the bed and he took me. I asked him to stop. I told him. I don't know when it happened, but I just remember slipping into jeans and finding myself carrying the duffel bag out of the bedroom. I jumped in the car. I jumped in. I drove. I came here. And I -"

Logan decided to speak up this time, "You found me."

He sat up in the bed and stared into her eyes. She was full on crying now and he wiped away her tears.

"I'll make all the bad go away," he mimicked her.

She only cried harder.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him.

Listening to her cry was enough for him and when she had finally calmed down, he pulled away from her and looked her in the eyes.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

If I should take a notion
To jump into the ocean

Ain't nobody's business if I do

Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do - Billie Holiday

---

What started as one day, turned into a week and then another. And another.

Logan hadn't even bothered to show at his next cage match, spending the evening making love to Ororo with the candles' shadows dancing over their naked bodies. The first night they had spent together, he had drove her up to her motel to gather her clothes, get food that would last them while they became hermits, and headed back to the motel.

Standing on the porch, Logan smoked a cigar and gazed at the sky. Recently, the clouds had been gloomy and almost foreboding. He paid little attention to it though as he couldn't have been happier at this moment.

Ororo had opened up more to him about Victor Creed and he was glad that they had come to the cabin. It was to protect Ororo but even more so to protect himself. If had found Victor, he would murder him, despite Ororo's protest not to. She had even gone out of her way not to explain his features. Even though these were blessed moments with her, he knew she had no intentions of changing her mind about leaving with him to Canada instead of leaving the continent altogether.

She simply was not having it.

They had managed to fix the broken radio in the bedroom and Billie Holiday's voice crooned through the cabin.

There ain't nothing I can do
Or nothing I can say

That folks don't criticize me
But I'm going to do

Just as I want to anyway
And don't care just what people say


If I should take a notion
To jump into the ocean

Ain't nobody's business if I do

Ororo spun around and smiled as she cooked the hamburger patties in the huge black skillet. She had donned one of Logan's oversized t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. To keep them up around her waist, she had tied them in a precocious little knot on the waistband. She flipped over the meat and sung along with Billie. This would be her last week with Logan and she had lived every waking moment to the complete fullest.

If Victor had managed to catch up with her now, the least she would be able to do is die with a smile.

She looked over her shoulder at Logan and smiled to herself. He only wore his jeans and boots, leaning on the railing with a leg hiked up and foot resting on the chair. Each time he took a draw of his cigar his muscles flexed. He smoked gracefully, letting the smoke roll from his lips. Scars were laced over his body like art and his brown eyes were gazing towards the moon.

Her bare foot tapped on the wooden floor.

Logan looked over at her and put out his cigar. "Those burgers almost done, woman?" He slipped out of his boots before making his way back inside.

Ororo bit her bottom lip and shrugged. She turned back to her cooking and sang louder, her voice matching Billie's, though not quite as beautiful.

Leaving the door open, Logan walked up to stand behind her and placed his arms around her waist. He listened to her hum and kissed the back of the neck.

"Are you absolutely sure?" He asked her once more, leaving the question open.

"Yes and yes."

She lifted the burgers one by one and sat them down in a neat pile on the plate covered in a paper towel. "Stop asking me. If you keep asking me, I will leave."

Logan laughed at that. "Leave? You don't even know where you are. I have you trapped all to myself." Ororo snorted, getting quite used to his often possessive behavior. With Victor it was unsettling, but with Logan she really didn't mind it.

"I belong to me and no one else," she told him, slipping from his arms and heading over to the counter. She took a knife and began to slice the tomatoes and onions. The strong scent of the onions almost made her sick to her stomach and she felt like gagging when the musky smell hit her nose. Ororo had never liked onions, especially when she was a child.

He watched every movement she made, from the articulate way her hands moved as she sliced the onions and tomatoes, to the way she would scratch her nose and immediately wash her hands. Her thin, frail-like fingers reminded him of a pianist's fingers and he found that strange that he would even think about a piano player while watching her fingers move.

Ignoring her little speech about being her own woman, he leaned against the counter and took a tomato and began to eat it. "So, what's yer last name? I mean, seein' as we have had several chances to get acquainted with one another. And on account o' you bein' a runaway an' all." He shrugged.

She smiled into the lettuce she was pulling apart. "Munroe. M - U - N - R - O - E. That way, if I go sprinting off from you, you can find me," she teased.

"Well, my name is James Howlett, but I like to be called Logan. Prefer it."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"It was my father's name."

Ororo nodded her head and turned to look at him. Logan locked eyes with her and she found it fascinating how easy it was to read those eyes. He looked like a child and for a split second she could imagine what their son would look like.

He looked away from her and began to inspect his bare feet. He realized how odd it was for him to lounge around without his boots.

"His name was Thomas Logan. He passed away a few years ago." Logan shrugged and finished the tomato. "I don't really know much about him, just that he never knew about me."

She waited patiently for him to go on. She needed to hear more about his childhood, but when he stopped there, she didn't bother to ask much else.

"Ready to eat?" She asked him with a warm smile and he nodded his head, leaning in to press his lips to hers. They kissed for a moment and she pulled back, nibbling on his bottom lip playfully and he made a pitiful groan that made her laugh. "Food first," she said in a mock stern voice.

Ororo fixed his food for him, which she could just sense he was getting a kick out of. To many men, she was sure he seemed ruthless and mean, but after these past few weeks, she noticed that he needed her a lot more than either of them would think. She didn't mind being needed by someone. Despite what many would think, it was a nice feeling.

Victor needed her but in very menacing ways.

"So, I was thinking in the morning that we would head back out. I'm sure Tom's pissed that I disappeared for three weeks and didn't go out of my way to give him any sort of mention to my whereabouts."

She sat his hamburger and fries on the table and he went to sit down to eat. The idea of eating red meat turned her stomach and so she passed up the hamburgers and grabbed an apple from the small fruit bowl on the counter.

Once she walked by Logan, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He ate his burger, nibbled on her neck, and made a pattern of this until he was done with his dinner.

Deciding that Ororo had done enough for the both of them, he washed his own plate and put the food away.

It had become nightfall and Billie's voice was still wafting through the entire cabin.

Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Ororo had always loved Strange Fruit, even when she was a child and her father would play it on the record player while he was sitting at his desk working into the late hours of the night and wee hours of the morning.

It was such a sad song to her and she could hear Billie's pain as she sung.

Logan had cleaned up and come out onto the porch to join her. His strong arms snaked around her from behind and Logan whispered in her ear, "I'll do anything for you."

Of course, anything being killing Victor. And though, Victor had done horrible things to her and even worse to other people, he was not worth the effort. She laughed it off and turned to face him. "I don't want you to. He's not worth your time." She cupped his face in both her hands.

Logan closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath, not quite used to her sensitive touch.

How was he supposed to forget about her when she did things like this to him?

He leaned down to kiss her and she returned the kiss, their lips parting slightly where their tongues met to dance dangerously with one another. Her hands worked their way into his hair, tangling her fingers with it.

"Mmph," Logan grunted and lifted her up with ease to sit her on the porch railing.

Ororo looked up at him and held up a hand to push him back. It had always been he who would go out of his way to please her. She felt that tonight, this night, she would take care of him.

Her eyes never left his as she undid his buttons and pushed his jeans down to his waist. His erection jumped underneath his boxers and she ran her hand over it slowly, getting a growl from him that pleased her.

Pushing him back so that he fell back in the chair, she pulled his boxers off slowly, letting the elastic smooth over his throbbing shaft and making him groan with anticipation.

She didn't need to exchange words with him, Ororo simply wrapped her hand around him and moved her hand slowly up and down. Oh, he was going to lose it, she could see it in the way he squirmed. It was a nice feeling, having control over him sexually, for once.

"'Ro," he moaned, his body jerked ever so slightly at the slightest touch, her warm breath near him... and then...

He felt warmth. Her tongue. Her lips. She was tasting him. He did not hold back his groans as her head began to move over him.

Ororo hadn't done this many times, but the times she had - it was a do or die situation and she had to do it her absolute best. Tonight she would enjoy it just as much as Logan. She licked her tongue over him like he was a tasty ice cream cone and took him completely inside her mouth, groaning each time she moved over him. Pulling her lips up slowly and grazing her teeth over him, she let her lips suck gently on the tip of his penis.

One hand gripped the underside of the chair and the other was gripping her hair, pulling and pushing roughly, guiding her over him. When he didn't get a complaint out of her from doing so, he continued on, feeling himself on the brink of a heart attack.

She took her time sliding her mouth over him and she moved her lips further, further down until she had him entirely in her mouth. She held on there until she felt herself getting ready to gag and she pulled back.

"Argh!" He practically yelled out, his hips lifting off the chair and into her mouth.

Her eyes were smiling when she looked up at him and saw that his head had fallen back and lips were parted, his tongue darting out to lick them.

She went back to her work, moving her head faster over him. He shoved her head down farther over his shaft and she moaned at the pressure but did not urge him to stop. She wanted him to enjoy and feel the way she felt every moment he had done this to her.

"'Ro - I c-c-can't -" he was so close. She had no idea the effect she was having on him.

Logan had gripped the side of the chair so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. She was trying to kill him. He knew it. That was her goal. She was going to make his entire body explode from the things she did with her tongue.

"Ah - fuck!" He cried as her hands wrapped around his balls and squeezed tightly as her head moved over his shaft relentlessly.

He was going to die.

He pulled her roughly by the hair and there was a ripping sound heard through the woods. Ororo's boxers had fallen to her feet and Logan pulled her to him so quickly, she barely had time to register.

In a matter of seconds, she was sitting over his pulsating cock and moving her hips up and down over his.

Once they had created a rhythm, Ororo placed her hands on each shoulder and began to roll her hips in a figure-eight motion that made Logan throw his head back. He was nearly close to climaxing and the way she moved those hips, he would soon be coming inside of her.

Each time Logan's hips moved up, Ororo's matched his, pushing her back down.

Their hips bumped against each others in the moonlight. Ororo's soft cries and moans added to the music of Billie Holiday. Logan was biting down hard on his bottom lip. He wasn't quite ready to give in just yet.

He lifted Ororo up and turned her around so that her back was to his with so much ease, Ororo made a cry of surprise.

He guided her hips over him and soon he had entered her again, thrusting his hips up as roughly as he possibly could. When she fell back, that was perfect opportunity for him to reach a hand around and so he did. He began to stroke her tender spots and her back arched high off him.

"Like this?" He whispered huskily into her ear.

"Yes," she moaned, pushing herself farther down over his hand.

His entire hand was soon working wildly to make sure she came right along with him. She rocked her hips down over his, feeling herself lose control. She reached her arm around and gripped the back of his neck as her toes curled when he shoved his thumb deeper, making her cry out loudly.

In mere moments, he brought her to her climax and her muscles tightened around him.

In her doing this, Logan had reached his own climax and he spilled himself up into her, pushing her body down farther on his so there was no space between them.

Ororo fell back onto his chest, both of theirs rising and falling rapidly.

Thoughts of killing Victor resurfaced in his head again.

...


Once Victor had left Scott's (he had decided against killing him when that annoying red-haired wife came up on the steps cradling an even more annoying baby), he decided the best thing to do was to rent a hotel.

Considering that he wanted to be in the shadows, he picked the cheapest, dirtiest, and grungiest hotel that he could find.

He knew Ororo was here. She couldn't get out of the country without her passport and since she had left with just the clothes on her back... well, in her haste, she left some pretty valuable things behind.

Sitting in the hotel and listening to the man fuck a woman brainless next door, he smirked. He pulled out Ororo's passport and twiddled it through his fingers. No doubt, she realized it was missing the moment she jumped on that road. Considering her was in killing mode, any fool would have enough common sense to not come back.

Oh, she was definitely as good as dead.

All in all that I know
There's nothing hear to run from
'Cos yeah every body here
Has somebody to lean on

Don't Panic - Coldplay

---

Cupping the side of his face, Ororo looked into Logan's eyes. She could have told him she loved him. She hadn't been treated this way in a long time. Instead, when he dropped her off at her motel, she smiled and kissed him.

"I have a fight comin' up pretty soon. I mean, you can stay for that one, right? I mean, and then after that - you know, you can leave." He shrugged.

Ororo sighed and leaned against the door frame. She thought about it for some time and slowly nodded her head. "Yes, I'll go."

"If you don't get to come, well, you can have these..." he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his dog tags. He carried these around with him absently, often forgetting them. They had become a part of his life and him. He never thought about them, never even talked about them.

"What? You don't have to."

He held up his hands. "No, come on now. Just take them. I want you to have them."

There was a long pause and he looked off at nothing in particular.

"My father gave them to me."

...


It had nearly been a month, Ororo realized, leaving the central bank of downtown with her money in tow. Her passport rested in her back pocket and she felt her stomach give a jolt of happiness. Soon she would be free from here. She would go to Africa, find her grandparents, and if she had it her way, live there for the rest of her life.

There would be no Victor, no David, no drug dealers, no one to find her and put her through the things she had gone through these past five years.

She pulled out the passport once her taxi was ordered and looked over it.

"Where to?" The driver asked through a heavy New York accent.

"Westchester," she said it without a moment's hesitation. She then recited the address that Jean had recited to her. There was no way she could leave without seeing her father. No matter what bad blood they had between them, she felt she owed herself and him this much.

If she hadn't been afraid to face him, she was now. His foster home looked more like that of an institute. The steel iron gates that greeted her seemed to dare someone to try and trespass. Her long arm reached out and pressed the white intercom button to her right and she waited patiently for a reply.

"Yes?" A woman's soft voice asked.

Butterflies in her stomach, Ororo cleared her throat and leaned in closer to the intercom.

"Yes, this is Ororo Munroe, I am here to see a Charles Xavier."

...

"I'm looking for the ugliest, filthiest, most disgusting spot you can think of," Victor leaned against a young woman so hard that her back was pressed into the wall. This was one of his favorite thing about being big, scary, and ugly. It intimidated women. The only woman it hadn't intimidated was Ororo. It just flat out frightened her.

The girl's mouth bobbed up and down like a fish out of water and Victor tilted his head to the side to show interest. She reminded him a bit like Ororo when she was seventeen. The only difference was that this girl had dark hair and eyes. "What's your name, baby?" He rested the palm of his hand against the wall to block her exit. When she moved to the other side, he moved his other arm up to block her other escape.

"I ain't gonna' hurt you..." he gave her a feral grin, "unless you tell me your name."

She looked down and look back up at him, clearly trapped. Her eyes darted around like a scared mouse would if it were surrounded by snakes.

"Come on baby, just tell me your name."

Her breathing began to pick up and Victor could feel her chest pressing into his each time she took in a deep breath. Her breasts were small, too small for him but her legs were never ending and she had a certain air about her that had called him to her. He'd seen her with her friends before they had went their separate ways, getting the most attention of the group and making everyone laugh.

He wanted to break her.

"It's Lina," she said softly.

"Like the actress?" He frowned at that. His father loved Lena Horne.

She shook her head.

"Well," Victor pulled back from her and sighed, "that's too damn bad. I would have left you alone had you said yes."

Young Lina opened her mouth to scream but no sound came on account of Victor punching her fiercely in the side.

Suddenly, for Lina, there was just darkness.

...


Ororo had to literally hold her feet down with her hands as the cab driver drove them through the iron gates. Upon the gates there was a large "X" in the middle and it split in half once the gates were opened. Lush green life surrounded Ororo and she laughed a little at that. When they lived in the city, Ororo would always complain to Charles that there was never enough green life. Along the winding path to his mansion, she was greeted by Weeping Willows. The road to his home was not a long journey and in less than a minute they were pulling up to neatly placed cobblestone. The cab driver stopped and turned to Ororo.

"Should I wait?" He was seeing her for the first time and he gave himself the pleasure of a quick once over.

Ororo looked from the mansion and backed to the cab driver. His eyes were glued to her chest and she pulled her blue jean jacket closed and shook her head. "No, no I should be fine." She reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a rolled wad of money and slapped it on the back of his seat. He reached a hand around and took the money from her.

He opened it and his eyes widened.

"Keep the change," she told him quietly.

"Will do," he had begun to talk about her being the best cab ride he had ever experienced, but his voice seemed to fade as she turned to find Charles Xavier sitting in his wheelchair, in a well tailored black pinstriped suit. He was dressed like royalty, as always. Ororo jumped from the cab and ran over to him and without a moment's hesitation, she leaned over and gave him the biggest hug she could muster.

The cab drove off and she wiped at the absent tears that had fallen.

"Charles," she began, and looked down. The duffel was weighing heavily on her shoulder now. "I am so sorry. What I did was wrong. It was wrong and I was foolish and stupid and reckless. If I could take it all - "

He held up a hand to silence her.

"And hello to you, Ororo." His gentle voice washed through her like silk on her skin. She closed her eyes and knelt down to face him. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled, "It is so good to see my daughter again." They looked into each other's eyes for what seemed like forever until he nodded towards the mansion. "Come inside and join me for tea."

Ororo did not hide her admiration for Charles' new living quarters as she looked around and gotten more comfortable in the plush antique armchair. Charles sat across from her in his chair and she noticed that he had done an upgrade on it. There was a control that resembled a joystick used for a video game. His wheels had a large metal "X" in the center of them, and his chair looked even more comfortable than the one she sat in.

"Charles," she began and looked down. The butler Joseph had offered to put Ororo's bag away but she had flat out refused. "Charles, I am so sorry."

It had been nearly five years since she'd seen him.

"Ororo, please," he held up his hands to stop her, "it is in the past. What matters is that you are here now."

She was no older than seventeen and according to Victor she was just as much a woman as any thirty year old. Ororo wasn't stupid, however, she knew the reason Victor had been saying those things. He was ten years older than her and from the moment she met him, he had rubbed his crotch like he had an itch that just couldn't be scratched there.

Though... Ororo wanted her first time to be special.

She slipped into her slippers and flitted down the hall of the brownstone that belonged to Charles. Jean had been visiting her maternal grandparents for the summer and Ororo flat out refused to join her this summer. She talked to Jean about Victor but the truth was that she wanted alone time with Charles.

Her nightdress flew at her sides as she crept her long legs down the hall.

She had no what she was doing. Not only had Charles been old enough to be her father, he was paralyzed from the waist down. And yet, nothing stopped her from her destination.

Not bothering to knock, Ororo slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind her. Her stomach fluttered from nerves but she stepped towards his large canopy bed and climbed in, slipping out of her slippers as her knees hit the mattress. It sunk just a bit and he gently stirred.

Ororo crawled up to sit beside him and she leaned her head down and pressed her lips to his.

"I was so foolish," she laughed at her own mistakes.

"We are all young once," he said with a twinkle in his eye and leaned over to get his tea.

She looked up to meet his kind and gentle eyes and laughed a little.

"How are things with Victor?" He asked her suddenly and she could not hide the frown that made her forehead crease.

Not wanting to sound like a fool or a horrible liar, Ororo simply shrugged and looked away. The window seemed to catch her attention and she saw two children run by.

Charles had absently wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and when his eyes opened, he made a strangled sob and pushed Ororo away.

"What are you doing?" He asked her, confused more than angry.

Ororo simply smiled, "I am making it special for the both of us." She leaned in once more to kiss him and he pushed her away.

Shaking his head, Charles pushed himself up with his hands and looked at her. "You don't think I'm beautiful?" She asked, her eyes filling with tears. He cupped her chin in his hands and couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Ororo, you are beautiful. You are so beautiful that often times I must stop myself from staring. Dear, Ororo, I see you as my daughter and nothing else. Every moment with you as a child of mine is special. A moment like this should be with a man you love."

"But I love you!" She piped in, tears falling down her face.

"And I to you," he replied. "But as a father would love his daughter. He gave her another one of those warm smiles only Ororo did not return it. She merely jumped out of the bed and ran from the room.

"Ororo," Charles interrupted her thoughts, "if there is something that you wish to tell me about Victor, please do not hesitate."

She turned back to face him and sighed.

"He has come searching for you." Charles could not hold it for much longer. He had been bursting to tell her. The expression she had given him was quite clear that she had absolutely no intentions of being found by Victor Creed.

"When?"

"He came just two days ago. I have no idea how he has managed to locate Scott and Jean and then my headquarters, but he seems to be a man on a mission."

Charles leaned over and said quietly, "And whatever you've run away with, he wishes to have it back."

He added ominously, "Badly."

So take me as I am,
or have nothing at all.

Take Me As I Am - Mary J. Blige

---

Ororo hadn't been quite keen on telling Charles the entire story of her and Victor, but something about his eyes made her pour her soul onto him over tea. She told him about the beatings, the rapings, the crimes, and everything else that happened. What broke her heart most of all was that Charles cried when she told him that she had left with Victor because of the incident in his bedroom.

He offered his protection, in fact, he offered to fly her out of the country that very night but Ororo refused. She wasn't quite done in New York and she had a bit of business to take care of.

Charles did not hide the fact that he thought Ororo was being very reckless in this Victor situation but he did not stop her when she argued against him.

Ororo had set off to find Logan and give him one last goodbye.

...


"The Wolverine!" The "referee" yelled amidst the cheers and jeers in the crowd. Logan looked at his oponent, a crumpled mess of a man and snarled. It had taken a mere fifteen minutes to knock this man into a bloody mess. His jet black matted hair was unkempt around his face and he was panting, nursing a broken rib.

Logan, however, was unscathed and panting. He punched a fist into the air and a few of the men cheered for him while the others called him all sort of nasty names. What he did not notice was the man in the very back of the crowd with the dirty blond hair, and cold brown eyes.

Victor Creed had found "The Grace" after he had nearly ripped his poor Lina to shreds. There wasn't much left of her when he was done and had he known that she was a poor little virgin, maybe, just maybe he would have gone just a bit easier on her. Just a bit.

He wanted to celebrate after his visit with Charles Xavier and his fun night with Lina and he had found just the place he was looking for. This place was perfect. There was illegal cage fighting, hookers, murderers, thieves, and every other dirty thing under the sun. His eyes had gotten glued on Logan or "The Wolverine" as everyone had called him. This runt bastard seemed to knock men down with the very glare of his hazel eyes.

That maniacal part of Victor wanted to challenge this Logan fellow, see what he was all about. Unfortunately, he had been to liquored up to give a damn that night. He watched as Logan left the cage without so much as a backward glance at his opponent. The front of his wife beater was stained with blood. Victor smirked. Logan rubbed his obviously aching knuckles and headed straight towards the locker rooms.

The winner was getting five hundred dollars tonight. Victor stood up, the Jack Daniels doing the walking for him. He could follow the Wolverine down the hall, wait for him to collect his money, and slit his throat and run off with the winnings.

Victor snorted. Well, that was just plain mean. He hadn't really cared about the money very much.

It was the kill.

There was nothing more exhilarating than a good kill after someone feels they've struck gold. That's how it was with David and even poor little Lina. That's the way it would be Ororo and if he felt the need, this poor bastard that just worked hard for his measly five hundred dollars.

Then, something stopped Victor dead in his tracks. For a moment, he thought he had been dreaming. A white haired woman had come through the door and went straight to the bar, talking to the owner. Victor headed towards the bar and he was ready to kill on sight but he pulled himself back when he noticed that she had ran after the Wolverine.

Who would believe his fucking luck?!

...


"Logan!" Ororo called, chasing after him down the hall. She blanched when he turned around to face her and there was blood smeared all over his white tank top. She had put the dog chains around her neck once she had left Charles' home. It was her bit of protection, she felt, until she had finally managed to leave this town.

He frowned at her and grunted.

"What the hell are you still doing here? You need to be gone."

She came even closer to him, so close that she could smell the man's blood on him. "Logan, he's here. I just wanted to tell you. I just wanted to say goodbye."

Without so much as a second thought, Logan seized her by the arm and pulled her roughly down the hall and into the alleyway where his motorcycle had been placed. The terrified look in her eyes calmed him down a bit and he held her arms firmly in his hands.

"You shouldn't even be here! You should be gone! This is crazy, Ororo! Why did you even come here?"

She frowned at him and bit her bottom lip. She wanted to tell him. She needed to tell him, but she thought better of it.

"That crazy bastard could be anywhere and I swear, Ororo, I swear on my brother's grave - if that man so much as even looks at you, I'm going to kill him. You're not making it easy though, running around like every thing's just fine."

"Logan, this is New York!" She argued reasonably. "He'd have to go through hell and high water to find me! I'm not crazy."

"Yeah, yeah - you are!" He pulled away and ran his hands through his tousled hair. "Look at you! You're here talking to me! God, Ororo! Am I going to have to think for you?"

Her demeanor changed and she suddenly seemed taller as she leaned her face in to his. "I don't need you to do anything for me! I thought it would be -"

"You thought?" He screwed his face up in an ugly frown and held out his arm. "There is a motherfucking psycho on your cute little ass and you thought...?! What did you think, Ororo? Tell me what the fuck you just thought."

"Don't talk to me that way," her voice had gone eerily calm.

"Don't do stupid things like come and visit me when you know he's on the hunt for your ass."

There was a pregnant pause between the two of them and finally, Ororo decided to speak up.

"Goodbye, Logan." She hated to end this on bad terms with him but if this were to be the last time they would see one another then so be it.

"'Ro," he started.

She turned to walk away.

"At least let me take you home. You shouldn't be out this late."

"I love you."

...


Victor's eyes narrowed to slits as he heard the exchange between the two of them. He stuck his hand into his pocket and fiddled with the keys to his car. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Logan and Ororo. His hearing had always been fucking magnificent. That's what his father had yelled at him so many times.

She loved him?

All those years with her and she couldn't bring herself to say it but spend a few weeks with a fucking illegal boxer and she was in love? This guy wasn't even handsome. What the hell was she on?

He wanted to blow both their brains out but he couldn't risk getting caught. It would be stupid to shoot two people when there was a bar full of nosiy ass morons right next to them. He leaned against the wall and watched the show before his eyes.

He could tell Logan was in love with her. Hell, he saw that the moment she had come running up to stop him and turned around. That dark brooding look he wore during and after his fight faded as soon as she had called his name. What gave this son of a bitch the right to so much as look at her? As far as Victor was concerned, he and Ororo were still dating.

So naturally, this bitch was cheating on him.

He was going to kill them.

First, he was going to kill Ororo.

Then he was going to kill Logan.

He would let them die together.

...


"Get on the bike," Logan whispered. He sat down and Ororo climbed on with him. When Ororo looked at his hands, she noticed they were shaking but she climbed on behind him, anyway. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against the back of his shoulder.

Neither of them noticed the car trailing behind them as he pulled out of the alleyway and made his way down the busy road.

Logan stared intently down the road and drove onto the highway. He sped along, his mind was completely at a blank. He did not want to turn around and see that beautiful white hair flowing around her even more beautiful face. The very thought of seeing her for the last time was killing him.

Why in the hell did she have to go and say a thing like that?

Before he had even realized it, Logan was pulling into her motel and parking his motorcycle.

Ororo climbed off and smoothed back her hair. Logan didn't bother getting off the motorcycle. She turned to stare at him, waiting for whatever hurtful thing he was going to tell her.

Instead, he replied with, "If you love me so much, why are you leaving me?"

She decided not to answer that. Slowly climbing up the stairs, she unlocked her door, and stepped inside.

Logan looked up at the door, sighed, and sped off into the night.

Oh can't you see
You belong to me
How my poor heart aches with every step you take

Every Breath You Take - Sting and the Police

---

Ororo had managed forty-five minutes of peaceful sleep. During the night, she had gotten up several times to go to the restroom. It had to be her nerves. She was most sure of it. Things had only gotten worse when thee o'clock hit and now every bit of dinner she had the night before decided to make its return.

Now, sitting by the toilet, Ororo's eye filled with tears. She couldn't believe herself. Her stomach flipped each moment she thought of Logan, thought of the things she had said last night. How could it possibly be? How could she love him?

If you love me so much, why are you leaving me?

Ororo smoothed back her platinum hair and began to cry. She heaved as she sobber harder, her stomach and chest caving in each time she had taken a deep breath. Her stomach flipped once more and she climbed to her knees, now spitting up clear liquid and foam. She fell back and hit the tub with a thud and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She sniffed and stood on her shaking legs.

Although Victor had made her plenty sick, it had never come to the point that she could barely contain her food. Victor had done terrible things to her. There was a time he had beaten her so badly, she miscarried. She was too afraid to go to the hospital and to afraid to tell Victor for fear of being beaten again. She knew she would no longer be able to take that. Leaving Logan was the wise choice to make.

Victor was here. Logan himself had stated that she needed to leave. She had to be gone before he found her. If he found her, surely he would kill her. Attempt to, at the very least.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror and gave a hollow laugh. She looked ever the mess, her hair was disheveled and sticking out in odd places. Her eyes were blood shot from the continuous crying and the tip of her nose was red. Her mother had even told her she was at her most upset when her nose had turned red.

How Ororo wished her mother were here now.

She swept her hair back and turned the water on. She leaned over and began to splash her face with cold water. She sniffed as she pulled away from her hands and stood up. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and let out an ear piercing scream.

Standing just behind her with a snarl on her face was Victor Creed.

Ororo quickly closed her eyes and opened them and pressed a hand to her chest. Just as he had been standing right behind her, he was suddenly gone.

She closed her eyes again and moved around the room to gather her things.

The dog tags were still protectively around her neck as she hastily moved about, stuffing the clothes she had changed in and out of during her stay in New York into the small suitcase she'd bought the day she had gotten her passport, money out of the bank, and airplane ticket.

She heard a car engine outside and she peered outside to see who it was. She frowned at the Baby Blue Wildcat outside and pulled back. The door opened and slammed with a nasty groan. She moved around the room like a cat, swiftly and quietly. Thunder rumbling outside, Ororo hastened her packing. She couldn't afford to get caught in the rain. Her plan was to head outside and run to the bus stop just outside the apartments. She had found out the route, the times it had come, and everything else the third day she had been here. Everything was going according to plan.

It was going to rain.

Ororo looked up at the clock on the wall and turned on the television. Turning to the weather channel, she sat on the edge of the bed next to her closed suitcase and crossed her legs.

"And there is a nasty thunderstorm headed our way," the anchor man announced, pointing the badly computer generated screen. Ororo looked at the clock once more. According to the anchorman, the storm would be here in an hour. In that hour, she would get on the bus, catch a ride to town and take a cab to the airport. In three hours she would be in the air.

And free.

The bus would be coming in two minutes now.

Ororo lifted her suitcase and put the strap over over her shoulder. She had gotten rid of her latest duffel bag and the money had been sealed protectively in her luggage, wrapped in a pair of blue jeans and a sweater. When she reached the airport, she would buy another duffel and place it all in there.

It sounded insane but she just knew it would work.

She turned off the television and headed to the door.

No sooner had she opened it, did she slam it back.

She felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on her. She gasped and took a step back as the door was slammed back open and there stood Victor Creed, smiling and ugly as ever.

Ororo closed her eyes and opened them and her heart fluttered. This time, he was not a dream. He was real, in the flesh, and had that murderous look in his eyes.

"Well, baby, it's good to see you're in good health."

Her body had gone completely rigid with fear and instead of running, she simply stood there and gawked at him. Her brain had stopped functioning. What could she possibly say to this man to save her life?

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna' kill ya'." He stepped closer to her and she had backed herself into the wall.

Victor flashed his canines at her and walked over so swiftly, she felt the wind brush against her skin. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly and she felt her heart beat so fast she thought it would burst.

"Where is my money?" He asked her in a dangerously soft voice. She slowly began to shake her head and mouthed the words I don't have it. Victor grabbed her face in his hands, squeezing tightly and pursing his lips together.

"Snow White, I'm only going to ask you this one more time... Where. Is. My. Money."

Her eyes filled with tears and her legs gave away as she was slowly slid down the wall. Victor growled out of frustration and backhanded her with his other hand. She cried and doubled over, but he wasn't done with her. Not by a long shot.

"We could have done this the easy way," he began, pulling her by her hair. She followed around, dropping her luggage to the ground and tripping over it. She twisted her ankle and cried once more but Victor paid no attention to her. He slammed the door shut and lifted her easily with one arm and slammed her against the door. She couldn't help but cry louder as the door knob jabbed her painfully in her lower back.

"Victor," she coughed and gave a weak scream when his fist connected with her left eye. Her eye immediately shut but that didn't stop Victor from pounding his fist into her as if she were another man.

"Where is my money?" He asked her through gritted teeth and pulled away. Ororo slumped down into a heap against the door. Blood trailed from her nose and her left eye was swollen shut. She could no longer cry so she gave hacked and strangled sobs. She wiped the blood from underneath her nose and pressed herself into the door. Her scream was strangled as his strong hands wrapped around her throat.

She clawed at his fingers and her legs swung as she was lifted off the ground. She mouthed the word 'please' but he only laughed, tightening his grip around her throat. This was how she was going to die, she realized - struggling at the hand of Victor Creed.

"You gave it to him, didn't you?" Victor asked her, the realization creeping upon his face. "You gave that fucking bastard my money. You fucking bitch." She couldn't argue no with him as his hands were wrapped around her throat. She was seeing stars now and the room was beginning to fade when suddenly -

Victor tossed her easily into the dresser, making her crash against the back of it. She fell to the ground and immediately got on all fours. She started crawling towards the bathroom and yelled as her legs were pulled from underneath her and one of them painfully snapped. Had he...

She was shaking now as he pulled her up and forced her to stand on her legs. The searing, white hot pain that went through her right leg made her fall over and Victor brought up a knee and slammed it into her stomach. Both her eyes opened then and she gave a silent scream.

Falling to her knees, Ororo looked up at Victor.

He stood over her and looked down at her, "I'm not going to kill you," he knelt down next to her and took her face in his hands. It had become a bloodied mess but he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. One of her arms flailed wildly as he pulled back, blood on his lips and teeth. Ororo's own lip was bleeding now as Victor had sunk his teeth down sharply into her bottom lip.

"I loved you," he whispered to her, pulling her up and ignoring her whimpering. They had played this song before. "And I told you the day I met you that I'd always be watching you. No matter where you are. No matter what you do."

Lifting her up by her neck once more, Victor slammed the back of her head into the mirror over the dresser, smashing it. When he pulled her away, blood had streaked her platinum blond hair. He tossed her onto the bed and straddled her.

Ororo blinked up at him, the fight in her completely gone. She opened her mouth to scream but when no sound came out, she simply passed out.

"I'll kill you both." He growled the words menacingly and pulled away from her. He would personally see to it that Logan would come back here. Once he did, they were both dead.

Unlike those before I wanna free you
Let the sweetness of your kiss rush over me

I search so many lifetimes
Let my soul rest in your arms
And I'll let you inside

Bitter Sweet - Me'Shell NdegéOcello

---

Logan had spent the next day training. He stayed in the gym, pounding the punching bag like its name was Victor Creed. When Ororo had told him some of (and he knew she didn't tell him all) the things Victor had done to her, he honestly felt like he could kill with no problem again. He didn't know what Victor Creed looked like but he could imagine the image so plainly in his head.

Blond hair, brown eyes, and an ugly smile.

His father.

He bit down on his bottom lip and punched the bag hard, bruising his hand as he did so. The thoughts of being six years old played his head so vividly, it hurt. He should not have been the one responsible to stand up for his mother and younger brother. His mother was weak though, he had known that long before he even knew how to spell his name.

The night his father decided to beat his brother was the night Logan decided to kill his father.

He had chosen the name Logan as the name of his childhood friend, a boy that was murdered at the hands of his own father, defending Logan's mother. That, however, was another story Logan did not want to touch base with.

Almost every night, his father haunted his dreams.

Kicks.

Punches.

Screams.

"Logan?"

As if being awaken from a dream, Logan gave a start and turned to meet Tom. Rarely, did Tom come personally to the gym to greet Logan. Something had to be very, very wrong. He had instantly stopped his reign of terror when Tom called his name.

"Something the matter?" He asked, frowning.

Tom's hands were shaking and in his shaking hands, he held a folded piece of paper. "You know that girl you were with, the pretty one with the white hair?" Logan nodded and Tom slowly handed him the folded sheet of paper.

Logan looked down at it and grabbed Tom's hand, attempting to stop it from shaking. "Why don't you just tell me what the paper says, Tom?" Logan couldn't prevent his own voice from quavering. Tom licked his lips and tasted the sweat that had formed there. He looked down and shook his head, "It's not for me to read, Logan. Her friend said it was specifically for you."

He squinted his eyes at Tom, who was acting extremely strange.

"Who was this friend, Tom?"

Tom sighed and showed his frustration by tilting his head to the side and frowning, "Logan, just take the damn paper. I don't want any trouble!"

Logan snatched the paper away from Tom and opened it.

She is still here, was written in messy scrawl and Logan didn't bother with simple things such as changing or even telling Tom he was leaving. He simply left the gym and hopped onto his motorcycle. Nothing about this made any bit of sense, but Logan didn't care. If there was some sort of message telling him that Ororo, his 'Ro was still in the motel room, he would take the risk of getting to her.

By the time he made it to her motel room, it had begun to rain. He was drenched as he ran up the steps and knocked on her motel door. Frowning when it opened, Logan prepared himself for whatever crazy shit that was going to happen and he gently pushed the door open.

It hadn't even opened completely when he saw her laying there on the bed.

"Ororo!" His voice went raw with emotion as he ran over to the bed and knelt down beside her. He lifted her hand to and pressed two fingers to her wrist. She was still alive, just as promised. But she was an absolute mess. Both her eyes were black and her nose may have been broken. The right side of her lip was swollen and her pillow was stained with blood. Logan lifted her head and swore loudly. There was so much blood. What would he do?

How long had she been like this? These wounds were all fresh. He was thinking that these were done just hours ago. She had a fucking concussion! There was blood everywhere.

"'Ro, baby, I need you to wake up." He tapped the side of her face lightly and sat her up. His hand that cradled the back of her head was covered in her blood. "Baby, please wake up for me." He looked down at her and rocked her slowly.

Her right eye opened slowly as the other one had been swollen shut.

Logan felt relief wash through him.

"Logan?" Her voice was hoarse and she coughed, spitting up a bit of blood. Logan's eyes widened with fear at that and he cradled her, moving to lift her up from the bed. It was stopped abruptly when he heard a gun cock and he laid her back down gently.

So the bastard wanted to play.

Ororo whimpered in pain and Logan pressed his finger to his lips. He quickly covered her up and stood his ground. If this was how it was going to be, then this was just how it was going to be. He smoothed back his wet hair and put on a pretty smile for his guest.

"So?" Victor Creed asked, stepping around and standing in the doorway, "You're the bastard that took my money and my girl."

Logan frowned and looked down at Ororo who was shaking her head. "Listen, bub, I don't know what the fuck yer talkin' about but I definitely didn't take your money. I don't need it. From the looks of it, you do." Victor growled and pulled his arm around.

Instead of aiming the gun at Logan, he pointed his Thirty-eight Ororo. This seemed to catch Logan by surprise and before he even knew what the hell he was doing, he charged into Victor. This knocked Victor back and the gun blasted. Ororo gave a cry and Logan did not have time to look back and see if she were okay. He may have been fast but Victor had been faster. It had been a good while since he'd actually had a worthwhile fight and Victor slamming his fist into Logan's side.

"Son of a bitch!" Logan could breathe out the words and his side would still be on fire. He pushed Victor back through the door and out into the rain, making him crash against the rail.

Victor grabbed the sides of Logan's face and squeezed tightly, making Logan cry out and fall back. He didn't have time to retaliate because Victor brought his steel toe boot into Logan's side.

"Give up, runt." Victor stood over him and gave him another rough kick. Logan winced and curled up to protect himself. Victor laughed and reached a hand down to pull Logan up by his hair. Logan had taken a lot of things in his life but he wasn't about to get his hair pulled by another man. Women did those sort of things and for a good reason, too.

"I'll give up when you give up!" He yelled, spitting out rain and giving Victor a sucker punch that made him double over. "How about you start fightin' someone your own god damn size, you big stinkin' asshole!" Logan had become victorious. His punches were relentless and for every bruise he saw on Ororo, he gave to Victor. Blind seething rage was the only thing he could see now and he would stop at nothing to make sure this bastard never hurt her again.

Victor made no sound, not even the mere grunt as Logan tried to break his ribs with his fists.

Logan pulled back and he slumped down, beginning to pant.

The rain seemed to come down harder. He was surprised no one had come to watch Victor and him pummel the life out of one another. Doing just as Victor had done to him, Logan took his cowboy boots and stomped them into Victor's side.

Only then, did he show a sign of defeat as he let out a yelp and look up at Logan. Rain dropped from the tip of his nose and he was clutching his side. Logan stood over him, his features darkened and wet hair unkempt about his head.

He narrowed his eyes when Victor began to laugh.

"You - can't - kill me," Victor panted. "You couldn't kill me if I handed you the gun."

Logan snarled and leaned down to pick Victor up by the scruff of his neck but jumped back when his gun fired and Victor gave a startled jump and slumped over. He looked over his shoulder to find Ororo half laying in the door way with the gun at her hand. She had passed out once more. He turned to Victor and lifted his head.

Right between the eyes.

Logan gave a hollow laugh and knelt down next to Victor. He had killed his own father. Luckily for Victor, Ororo had shot him because he planned on using pure, unadulterated torture.

He moved back to Ororo and lifted her up with ease. He cradled her in his arms and ran back to the bed. He looked around at the disheveled room, Ororo's state and then to Victor, dead and sitting slumped over against the rail.

I wanna breeze and an open mind
I wanna swim in the ocean

Wanna take my time for me
All me

Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics

---

Everything hurt.

Ororo blinked back tears as she opened her eyes and the dim light in the hotel room made her headache worse. "Logan?" She cried, trying to sit up but failing miserably. She was no longer in the motel room. Something was not right. She had ...

Realization and dread struck her and it was just as worse as the beating Victor had given her.

"Logan?" she called once more and she let out a breath of relief when he stepped out of the bathroom in pair of faded black jeans that clung to him. He was wrapping his hand and he looked down at her.

She was swallowed in darkness once more.

...

Though he would have loved more than anything to celebrate right now and perhaps push Victor's lifeless waste of a body over the balcony, he did not have time for that. Once Ororo had shot Victor and passed out, he immediately carried her to the bed. She only had enough energy to complete that one task. He looked down at her and sighed, turning back to look at Victor, who now sat against the railing, staring at him.

"Fuck," he whispered.

The blue muscle car had to be Victor's. He was sure of that. Victor was too damn cliche to do anything simple. Ororo was a crumpled bloody mess and there was no way they could stay here and nurse her back to complete health. He looked back at Victor once more and then back to Ororo.

Act first, ask later. That was the rule when it came to cage fighting.

Logan dashed over to Victor and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of car keys. The rain did not ease, he noticed bitterly, but it did not stop him. He ran down the stairs two at a time and tested the keys on the door. He gave a little yelp of success and ran back up the stairs just as fast and lifted up Ororo with ease. She cried out in her unconscious state but that did not stop Logan.

"Don't worry baby," he whispered to her, "I'll take care of you."

She coughed a bit of blood up and wrapped an arm around his neck. "Don't forget - the bag," she whispered, holding on to him tightly. He nodded and ran down the stairs, now able to pass up Victor without finding it unsettling. With the back door being opened, he slipped Ororo into the backseat and laid her down. He thought grimly of how Victor would react to the blood being on his seat then thought with a deadly satisfaction that wherever Victor was, blood on his backseat was probably the least of his problems.

He ran back up the stairs and grabbed not only the duffel bag but Ororo's suitcases. He looked at Victor once more and frowned. Something was in his hand. Kneeling down, he swore loudly at Ororo's passport clutched in his fingers. The entire time they fought, he held on to her passport? He snatched it from Victor's hands and without looking back, he made his way down to the car.

Tom had told Logan that in case of emergency...

The engine revved and Logan pulled out of the parking lot and sped off.

The ride to the cabin was relatively safe. Fate seemed to be on his side because on his way to the cabin he did not pass up one policeman. Honestly, he and Ororo were the good ones compared to how ruthless Victor Creed had been.

The smartest thing that Logan could think of was running away from the scene as quickly as possible. He drove into the clearing with the headlights off. The rain had settled down a bit now and Ororo was no longer moaning or whimpering as she slept on. Logan had no idea how he was supposed to fix all this now. Ororo had killed Victor on her own but that did not stop the fact that he was involved in this just as much as she was. It was true. He considered everything past and present involving Ororo as a part of his history now.

... the future.

Once he had gotten her inside, he laid her down on the bed. She was either still unconscious or a very good pretend sleeper because she did not stir when he laid her on the bed that they had once made love countless times.

He knelt down next to the tub and turned on the water, plugging up the drain and letting warm water fill the tub.

"Lo-gaaan," Ororo cried and he stood quickly but stiffly and walked over to her bedside. He sat her up and forced himself not to look at her. He had seen some terrible things in his life but he never thought the idea of seeing a woman he had loved so much it hurt bruised and battered would affect him so. He smoothed back her platinum hair and pressed the side of his face against her side. She hissed in pain and he pulled back immediately.

"'Ro, maybe - maybe I should take you to the doctor." She shook her head and held up a hand to argue with him and it fell back weakly at her side. Logan didn't say anything else. He simply lifted her up in the bed and began to undress her. He had to rip her shirt open to get it off without hurting her and he winced as he spotted the bruises. He stopped counting after the fourth one and tossed the blood stained white tank aside. Unclasping her bra, he tossed that aside as well and laid her back down to unbutton her jeans. He pulled them off slowly though he could not do it tenderly enough as she still gave a sharp cry of pain. He slipped off her boots and pulled her jeans off completely.

He cupped an arm underneath the back of her knees and cradled her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom.

Sitting her down in the tub, he let her lay on the cool porcelain tub.

He grabbed the cup sitting on the corner of the tub and dipped it in the water. He was on his knees now, hovering over her. He looked at her and she determinedly kept her eyes closed.

Slowly pouring the water over her, she let out a strangled cry and Logan wanted to kill Victor Creed all over again.

"Let it out," he told her, not able to look at her. Her strangled cry became a hoarse one and soon she was screaming. Screaming so that her nose began to bleed and Logan did not stop her. He continued to bathe her, washing away the blood from her face and back of her head as she screamed a raw, throaty scream, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

...

Everything was dark and Ororo awoke with a start. The body next to her stirred and she turned on her side in the darkness to wrap an arm around him.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

She was surprised that he hadn't been asleep.

"You didn't have to - "

"Yes, I did."

She sat up and the pain in her side made her lay back down.

"Don't try to sit up on your own. He cracked your ribs. I wrapped them the best I could." She could see his features in the moonlight and she lifted a hand to caress his face. His jaw was swollen and she bit her bottom lip and looked down.

"Hey. Hey, don't you dare feel guilty about this. He deserved what he got. Besides, he would have killed us both before you could say 'ruthless bastard'." Ororo chuckled softly at that.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Be quiet and get some rest. You don't have anything to be sorry for. Ain't nobody on God's green earth perfect. Well, he broke the mold when he made you but we ain't talkin' about you, are we?"

"No, we were talking about Victor."

There was a silence.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

He continued to answer her patiently. There was no sign of irritation in his voice.

"Where are we going to go now?"

"Well, I have a piece of land in Canada. I was figurin' maybe we could settle there or somethin'. When I told ya' I had money on the side, I don't think I told you just how much. Besides, I'm pretty good at building things. You know, I could build a house for us and maybe we could..." he didn't finish the sentence.

"Have a family," she finished for him.

"I never had much of one to begin with."

"Tell me about it," she whispered, snuggling closer to him.

With no hesitation and much to his surprise, Logan began to tell her the story of his real name, how he had killed his father. He told her of how his mother had ordered him out of the house and how he had found out his brother was killed by a bullet that had not been intended for him. He told the entire story of his life and soon they had both fallen asleep, hanging on to one another.

...

They had no access to the television and the radio wasn't exactly the best source for news. Logan and Ororo both agreed that neither one of them gave a damn about the rich actress crying about spending two weeks in jail for hitting an old man while she was drunk.

So, Logan decided that if one of them were to be caught or considered suspicious, it would be him and he headed into town and headed to the first bar he could find.

He blended in with the corner quite well and thanked the barmaid that had come over and asked him what sort of drink he'd like. No one seemed to be interested in any dead drug dealers and that was pretty good news for him. Just when he was thinking about making his exit...

"Man, did anyone hear about that drug dealer that was killed in the motel?"

Someone replied with - "People are murdered every day, man, tell us something new."

"No, but did you see his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend?"

A few men let out low whistles.

"She disappeared or something, apparently. He was found murdered in a motel room."

Logan leaned forward a bit.

"The police are probably glad she killed him. This bastard had a record that would scare even the shadiest of cops here. He had killed his partner, raped some kid in an alley ("Murdered her, too!" Someone yelled), and robbed and killed another drug dealer. That's just the fucking half of it. As if we need more crime in this
city."

There was silence.

"But did you see his ex-girlfriend? I'd fuck her brainless. Shit, as ugly as her ex-boyfriend was, I'd run away, too."

Logan's knuckles itched at the comment directed at Ororo but he did not have time to pick fights. He needed to get back to her so they could get the hell out of here.

And soon.

When Logan had made his way back to the cabin, he looked around to make sure that no one had been snooping around. Tom said this cabin was pretty safe and he believed him. It was practically hidden in the middle of nowhere.

An ear-splitting scream made him run up and force the door open, almost tearing it from its hinges.

He couldn't hold back the horrified yell that had come from his throat as he found Ororo doubled over in the bedroom, blood everywhere. There was just so much blood. Where had all the blood come from?

He ran over and lifted her up, cradling her while she held on to her stomach, crying and bleeding.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked.

"Professor. Call the - Pro - I need a doctor!"

"We have to go to the hospital, Ororo!" He said it sternly.

"No!" She let out a high pitched scream and Logan nearly dropped her when he saw that the blood was coming from between her legs.

"My bag - " she whispered, beads of sweat on her forehead. "The black bag with all the m-money... on the ... s-s-s-side, there is ... a card ... a card with a num -"

Logan laid her down immediately and ran over to grab the black bag. He frowned at the name "Charles Xavier" but did not hesitate to pick up the phone and call it.

He feared that if he was not soon enough, she would surely die.

Animal I am
And I'm looking for an answer just like you
I should know which way to turn

Animals - Coldplay

---

"Miscarriage," Charles Xavier stated as Ororo now slept.

Though he hadn't made a house call in nearly thirty years, he was at the cabin before Logan had properly given him directions. Logan now sat on the bed next to the sleeping Ororo, his head hanging low and his chest uncomfortably tight.

When Charles had finally made his way to the cabin, accompanied by Jean and Scott, they already knew the situation before Logan had had time to describe it. Ororo had gone into premature labor and being only three weeks pregnant, she miscarried. Painful as it was, it was bound to happen, Jean explained to a sullen Logan. The harm that Victor had caused on Ororo was almost beyond repair, physically and emotionally.

Scott had given Logan an approving nod when he looked at the bandages around her waist and stomach. Her left eye was still swollen completely shut and her lip was swollen and bruised but she was doing quite a bit better.

"A word?" Charles inclined his head to Logan, who was still looking as though the world was falling from underneath him. Though he wasn't very keen on leaving Ororo's side ... at all, Logan nodded and stood, slowly making his way out of the cabin behind Charles.

"Logan," his voice was soft so that the others could not hear, "I know right now you are very upset. I feel though, if you do not leave, things will only get worse for you."

Logan could only nod as Charles talked to him.

Charles sat down in the chair that Ororo and Logan had made love in weeks ago and looked up at him. "The farther you are away from this place, the better you can start fresh and new. It would not only be wise for her, but for you as well ... James."

His eyes darted to Charles and they stared into each other's eyes for what seemed hours.

"I know that you are a good man. There is no need to give me that expression," he added after seeing the look of complete shock on Logan's face. "What you fail to realize is that you are driving the car of a dead man that was stolen by another dead man. If you tried to drive Ororo to the airport, you both would be in jail before either of you could say the word love."

Logan perked his eyebrow at that.

"Luckily," he added, purposely ignoring Logan's expression, "my dear friend, a Detective Erik Lensherr, has been alerted immediately of the situation, thanks to my nephew, Scott." Logan looked over his shoulder at Scott, and his wife, Jean as they talked in hushed voices, all the while at Ororo's bedside. Logan couldn't help but a smile a little despite his current situation. Ororo did have a family, people that cared deeply about her, and for him that was the only thing that mattered.

She had known she was having a miscarriage long before he had even called Charles. In fact, she even told him in a sad voice that she was 'losing it'. At the time, when she had said it, he didn't know exactly what she meant. It wasn't until he had helped Jean undress her that he knew. It was one of the worst feelings he had ever felt in his life. The hatred of Victor rose but what was the point in hating a dead man?

"Logan?" Charles called him from his reverie and he turned back to face him once more.

"What about the car? I mean, we can't just dump it."

"No need to worry, my dear friend Kurt will be taking care of that."

"But 'Ro's still pretty banged up. I don't think she'll be up for a trip now."

"I will supply you with a jet that will get you safely to a lovely village in Brazil in South America. One of my homes there, you'll love it -"

"I have land in Canada!" Logan protested suddenly.

"Of course you do, dear fellow but you do not think that the police will not know this already? My friend Erik can only do so much."

Logan did not argue the issue any farther. Instead, he sat in a brooding silence. As though being able to read his mind, Charles smiled. "A jet will take you and Ororo to a villa I have. You will stay there for a few months. I assure you the death of an abusive, murderous drug dealer will be something celebrated here. Within the few months that you are there, you will be able to fly to Canada."

Finding another point to argue, Logan was interrupted by Charles lifting a hand to silence him. "We will have your passports there within a month."

Logan fell back against the chair and sighed. Well, damn. He looked at Charles and looked at Ororo. "You were the first person she said to call for." This was Logan's own way of saying that he, too, trusted Charles Xavier. After a strong moment of silence, Logan reached his hand out and Charles took it in his, shaking it.

...

Charles had insisted that they make a run for it as soon as they possibly could but Ororo put his fears aside and they spent the day before the pair made their journey to South America, sitting in the Xavier mansion sitting room and playing with baby Rachel.

"She looks just like you, Jean," Ororo told her with a smile, tossing the baby into the air, getting a giggle and a dribble of spit on her cheek. Ororo looked up at Jean and laughed, ignoring the look of concern Jean was now giving her. She had no idea why everyone watched over her like she were a small child. She really was all right.

Scott was sitting next to her, looking up adoringly at Rachel, tickling her every so often.

"Ororo," Jean watched her with a frown, "how come you didn't tell me about Victor?"

She lowered Rachel, who was now tugging at her hair. Parts of her body ached but thanks to the medicine Charles and Jean had supplied, things were progressing a lot better. She did not want anyone to think she was incapable of taking care of herself. She had done so for so long. Why should any of that change now? Rachel giggled loudly and Ororo smiled down at her.

"I didn't want you to worry about me," she answered honestly leaning down to kiss Rachel on the forehead.

"I can't wait to have children of my own," she smiled at little Rachel and handed her to Scott. Jean was about to apologize again for the recent situation with Victor but Ororo was saved the humiliation by the appearance of Charles and Logan.

Both of them were grinning and Ororo couldn't help but ask why they were smiling.

"Well, I just got all my savings," Logan held up his own black duffel bag and shook it. It seemed rather heavy but Ororo did not press the matter. "We can leave."

Just like that, they could leave. Ororo suddenly felt her stomach drop.

"Something the matter, Ororo?" Charles asked as if knowing exactly what she was going to say before she had even said it.

"I just came back to you. Granted, the reunion grim. I missed you all so much. I don't think I'm ready to leave."

"Oh, Ororo," Jean laughed and stood, only to stand next to her, "We can come and visit you. Trust me, I have always wanted to go to Brazil myself. It's going to be amazing. We can go out and let the sun bathe us while our children are playing in the sand." That had made Ororo smile a bit.

"You just wait and see, things are gonna' be great," Logan's strong hand had pressed against her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She looked up at Logan and nodded her head, giving him a small smile.

"Now, I think it is due time for dinner. My stomach is telling me that there is a lovely roast with my name on it." Charles patted his stomach and Ororo and Jean laughed. "Besides, Ororo, I promised Kurt and Kitty that you would be here for dinner. They have missed you a great deal."

When I was young I had no one,
I walked alone, I never thought
I'd find someone who I could come home to.
Until there was you.
Until there was you.

Living Proof - Kelis

---

Logan climbed out of bed and yawned, stretching his arms high over his head.

He could smell breakfast wafting through the windows and the sounds of a guitar playing, lifting him serenely and floating him through the back door of his home. The music was accompanied by a little girl's giggles and her mother's laughter.

Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his bare arms and smiling at Ororo as she danced with their little girl in her arms. Her stomach was finally starting to show. The little girl looked over Ororo's shoulder and waved.

"Hi, Daddy!"

The guitar played nodded his head in a greeting to Logan and Logan did the same.

"Now, my Bella, beautiful girl, what are you and your mommy doing?" He ran over and kissed Ororo on the cheek and picked up little Bella to place her on his shoulders. She clapped and screamed happily as he spun around. He pulled her off his shoulders and put her down on the ground to let her round around and spin in circles to the music.

"He's getting big," Logan said softly to Ororo. He knelt down and kissed her stomach, smiling as there was a gentle thump from the spot he'd just kissed. She placed a hand on the side of his face and the cold from the wedding ring contrasted with her warm hand as he leaned his face in to kiss it.

They had never left Brazil.

Their paradise.