Summary: Eight months after the tragic loss of Jean Grey, the X-Men are slowly moving on. An injury while retrieving a new student sets their world off it's axis. Again.
Categories: NC-17 Characters: None
Genres: Romance, Action, Angst
Warnings: Adult language, Sexual Situations
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 24
Completed: Yes
Word count: 99141
Read: 118377
Published: 06-29-05
Updated: 01-18-06
1. Chapter One: Mission by Gaineewop
2. Chapter Two: Choices by Gaineewop
3. Chapter Three: Windrider by Gaineewop
4. Chapter Four: Scent by Gaineewop
5. Chapter Five: Let It Rain by Gaineewop
6. Chapter Six: Irrational by Gaineewop
7. Chapter Seven: Why by Gaineewop
8. Chapter Eight: Awakening by Gaineewop
9. Chapter Nine: Here's Lookin' at You by Gaineewop
10. Chapter Ten: Growing Addiction by Gaineewop
11. Chapter Eleven: Not In Love by Gaineewop
12. Chapter Twelve: Paradise Lost by Gaineewop
13. Chapter Thirteen: Ferocity by Gaineewop
14. Chapter Fourteen: Light on Dark by Gaineewop
15. Chapter Fifteen: Graying Tower by Gaineewop
16. Chapter Sixteen: Remain by Gaineewop
17. Chapter Seventeen: Magneto by Gaineewop
18. Chapter Eighteen: Ice by Gaineewop
19. Chapter Nineteen: Partner by Gaineewop
20. Chapter Twenty: Protector by Gaineewop
21. Chapter Twenty-One: Happy Birthday, Miss Munroe by Gaineewop
22. Chapter Twenty-Two: Deafening Crash by Gaineewop
23. Chapter Twenty-Three: Ororo Wakes by Gaineewop
24. Chapter Twenty-Four: Reckoning by Gaineewop
Chapter One: Mission by Gaineewop
Chapter One: Mission
Ororo Munroe walked up and down the aisles of her classroom, idly watching the children under her care taking a simple pop quiz on the Roman Empire. She knew without even looking at the papers that at least some of them were not paying the least bit of attention to what they were writing.
With an inward sigh, she reminded the silent class that they had only ten more minutes to complete their exams before she collected them for grading. Once she reached her desk at the head of the class, she sat on the edge to ensure none of them were looking onto their neighbor’s quiz.
It had been months and yet not a day went by that she did not think of her lost friend. At times, in the quiet of night when sleep was elusive, the mutant called Storm would sit at the kitchen table, half-expecting Jean to saunter through the door and ask where she was hiding the chocolate-chip ice cream.
Only a few moments after that wayward thought would bring a smile to her lips, harsh reality would weigh down on her. Jean was not coming home.
Tears stung at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. It would not do to lose even a moment’s cool in front of her class. She did not cry, a fact that brought a bout of teasing from her telepathic friend more than once. Never one to show emotion, Storm grieved internally. No tears. It would dishonor Jean’s sacrifice if she remained hidden in the black clouds of melancholy.
The students had been told of course, and a few of them seemed to be doing much better. They all knew the risks that the X-Men faced every time that jet rose from beneath the basketball court. For the last few weeks, a welcoming party had been awaiting the mutant warriors when they returned from every mission, be it a success or failure. As though the children could not sleep unless they knew that their protectors and mentors had all returned home.
Scott Summers, the long-time lover of Jean, had retreated into himself from the moment he’d returned to the mansion. He had revealed that Logan had spoken to him upon leaving the Professor’s office, but he had never explained it. Whatever had been said affected both of her teammates.
While Scott was slowly reclaiming his ability to function, Logan had not changed at all. He still stomped through the mansion as though he had somewhere better to be. He looked after the children as they required, and had time to instruct a few of them in martial arts.
One thing Ororo could not quite grasp was the reason he never left the grounds.
He would accompany the remaining X-Men on missions and recruitment trips, but seldom anything else. It was as though whenever he left the mansion, he was half of himself. Something kept him bound to the home of Charles Xavier.
The students completed their quizzes as the school bell rang, each stopping by her desk to hand her their exams and bid her goodbye. Ororo watched with a pang of remembrance as Rogue and Bobby left her classroom, hands linked together and whispering to one another.
Bobby Drake and the girl called Marie had come back from Alkali Lake as altered as their teachers. While the younger students held captive by the malicious Stryker had moved on, Bobby and Marie still held a haunted look that spoke volumes of their trials. When they walked about, absorbed in each other, they reminded her of Scott and Jean.
Stacking the quizzes on her desk, Ororo paused, her dark hand gripping her chair. Nothing would ever be the same here. There would always be a hole that Jean’s death had torn open. A wound that had cut so deep it would never go away.
“Hey.”
She did not bother to look up. The soft voice of her friend was unmistakable in the oppressive silence of her empty classroom.
“Hello, Scott.”
Her reply did not betray the pain in her heart. She had to be strong now, as Jean had always been. The students looked to her for constancy, for the reassurance that some things in their routine-dependant lives were not changed.
“The Professor needs to see you in the War Room,” he said, giving her a small smile. “He wants you to bring Logan.”
“Oh, all right,” she nodded, brushing a lock of hair from her face and rewarding him with a smile. “I will go find him.”
Scott lingered for a moment, leaning against the door. Ruby-lenses covered his eyes, making it nearly impossible to gauge his emotions. Ororo could tell from the tight line of his mouth that he was on edge.
“You all right?” he asked after a long moment. “I don’t think I’ve asked you that since…Alkali Lake.”
A bit surprised “ no one save the Professor asked her such things anymore “ she nodded absently. “I am as well as can be expected.”
The handsome young man rewarded her with a lopsided smile. One simple gesture knocked a good five years from his suddenly aging face.
“You always have been, haven’t you, Storm?”
She slung her knapsack over her shoulder, taking the few steps across her classroom to stand before him. “Someone has to keep her head around here.”
Scott’s smile turned sad for a moment. He reached out, placing his hand over hers.
“I’m here, Storm. If you need anything, I’m here,” he whispered, the tone in his voice suggesting he was trying to convince himself more than she.
“I know you are, Scott. But I am all right. I promise,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
His covered eyes betrayed nothing as he turned from her, walking slowly down the hall as though the world weighed on his shoulders. Not for the first time, Ororo wondered if they should relieve him from duty, at least for a while.
Shaking her head, she touched the security panel on the wall, searching through the images for Logan’s location. If they left Scott with nothing to do, there was no telling how he would take such loss.
Logan was on the deck, alone. She watched him for a moment, wondering how close he and Scott were to a complete breakdown. It was difficult at times, caring for the students while watching her teammates like a hawk. Logan seemed to be handling it a bit better than Scott. Ororo thanked the gods daily for small miracles.
She navigated the familiar halls of Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters, stopping only to ask Peter, one of the older students, to check on the younger. The quiet young man agreed, giving her a bow before making his way upstairs.
Ororo placed her bag on the kitchen table before stepping onto the deck, smiling softly at the cloudless sky. The sun warmed her, creating a light tingle she could feel down to her toes. A soft breeze beckoned her to gather the winds, to ride into the sky and release the mournful energy within her.
Of course, she could not do that. One slip of her temper could affect the weather patterns for miles. Pushing aside the urge to “play with Mother Nature” as Scott termed it, she moved on silently to where Logan was sitting.
A swirl of cigar smoke snaked over his wolfish hair, his feet propped up on the deck rail as he reclined in the patio chair. She noted the bottle of beer beside him was virtually untouched, a rarity for her new friend.
“Lookin’ for me, ‘Ro?”
Not surprised that he had known she was behind him, she walked around the chair to sit on the deck rail. He had shortened her name weeks ago, citing that her given name was a tongue twister and he would rather not butcher it.
“As a matter of fact, I am. Charles would like to see us in the War Room,” she replied, studying his placid features.
“And what could ‘Wheels’ want, eh?” he pinched the cigar between his teeth, his eyes on the orchard beyond the deck. “Mission or babysitting?”
Sighing at his term for her mentor, she shook her head. “I am not sure, but Scott did not say it was urgent, perhaps I could have a word with you?”
The decision was a long time in coming. For weeks, Storm had felt utterly alone in the mansion. Students surrounded her, looking for comfort. The Professor worked tirelessly with the government, his own classes and the day-to-day business of the school. With Scott out of commission, she needed an ally.
Logan had been nominated.
His dark brown eyes finally met hers. As always, there was a challenge reflected there, as though he wanted nothing more than to get into a window-rattling row with her. Brushing a lock of hair from her eyes, she looked away, not wanting to challenge his more feral tendencies. They had to think of the children.
“What is it you need, darlin’?”
Choosing her words carefully, she returned her gaze to his.
“When you first came to this mansion, I told you that you could not save Rogue on your own.”
“I remember. You said something about choosing sides.”
“Correct,” she paused, sizing him up. “I will say it again. You have to choose a side, Logan.”
The look on his face was an odd mixture of bewilderment and barely controlled irritation.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he gestured to the house. “I chose this side, not that we’re doin’ a whole lot at the moment.”
Clearing her throat, Ororo nodded. “Yes, but your mind stayed at Alkali Lake. Your body is here and when you are with young Marie, you seem almost yourself. And then the moment passes and that vacant look comes back. You must choose, Logan. A life here with us or a life that ended with Jean’s. Which do you think would honor her?”
Without waiting for a reply, Ororo gracefully slid from the deck rail and walked away.
~@~
“Ah, Ororo, there you are. I sent Scott to fetch you several minutes ago, is everything all right?”
The Professor’s smile was warm and comforting as usual when she entered the War Room. She returned the benevolent gesture with a smile of her own, setting her bag down.
“I had to speak with Logan for a few moments. He should be along shortly,” she replied, looking about the room.
“We have a visitor…”was all the X-Men’s leader could get out before her eyes fell on a very old friend.
“Henry!”
The enormous man stood from his position beside Charles, a wide grin on his dark blue face, canine teeth and all. Ororo had heard of the radical changes her dear friend had undergone, but this was the first she had seen of him in nearly two years.
Dr. Henry P. McCoy, also known as Beast held his arms out to his old friend, making Ororo nearly leap into his arms. His embrace was filled with the warmth of friendship and the cheerfulness of his buoyant personality.
“My dear friend,” he said sweetly, kissing her forehead and holding her out with his huge hands. “You are looking well, all things considered.”
Ororo rewarded him with a bright smile, feeling calmer than she had in a very long time. Henry had been a kindred spirit in her first years at the school, one that could help her puzzle out the most complex problems. His vast intellect and kind manners were a comfort in the darkest of times.
“You are looking very…blue,” she grinned cheekily. “And rather furry.”
Henry feigned a look of shock as he inspected himself. “Do I really? Perhaps I should have that checked.”
Laughing for the first time in weeks, Ororo pulled him into a nearby chair, surprised when he seemed to glide as he moved, despite his hulking form.
He took her hands in his, chatting amicably for the few minutes before Logan arrived. Ororo listened as her eloquent friend explained the mechanics behind his drastic change in appearance. She squeezed his hand fondly when he revealed the serum he’d willingly ingested at the Brand Institute, where he had been faithfully pursuing his work in genetics and mutation.
Charles had been all but forgotten until Logan entered the room. Ororo had a feeling the older man did not mind, for there was a kind of wistfulness to his face. Henry had been part of the original team of X-Men. Having him “home” was a rarity indeed.
“Ah Logan, come in. I have someone here I would like you to meet,” the Professor said jovially when Wolverine entered the room, looking as though he wanted to hurt someone.
Apparently, Ororo had not gotten through to him.
“Let me guess, the big, blue guy next to ‘Ro?”
“Henry McCoy,” said Beast, holding out his hand. “I was trained here at the Institute.”
Logan shook his hand quickly. “Wolverine, I just got here.”
“Oh yes. The chap with metal on his bones and claws of some sort. Awful business, experimenting on mutants,” Henry said softly, his big blue eyes reflecting compassion.
Snikt!
The metallic sound Logan’s claws made rang through the room as he extended them. Ororo fought the urge to throttle him, though he had not made the gesture in any way threatening.
“Impressive,” Henry commented. “Quite impressive.”
Ororo stomped on his foot under the table to halt the probing questions she knew were forthcoming. The scientist in her friend could not be contained and while he meant no offense, there was no way to tell how Logan would respond to being questioned at the moment. Henry took her silent advice and sat beside her again without another word.
Professor Xavier took control of the meeting a beat later.
“Ororo, Logan, I have a mission for you,” he said in that soothing manner. “I need you to go to Chicago and collect a young mutant for me. He has been enrolled in the school, but his parents would like him to have an escort.”
“They know about the school, Professor?” Ororo questioned, taking the file he handed her.
“Yes, in fact they contacted me. It seems the boy is the nephew of an associate of mine. I told his parents that I would send him protection.”
“Why does this kid need protection?” Logan asked gruffly, not bothering to open the folder Charles had passed to him.
“His mutation manifested only a few days ago when he was angry with his father. He developed the power to manipulate atoms, by accelerating or slowing them,” Charles explained patiently. “Unfortunately, he is out of control. A few of his neighbors have threatened to call the local police.”
Ororo nodded. “I understand, Professor. Will he come willingly?”
“Yes, though I imagine he will be rather frightened. I gave his parents descriptions of both you and Logan, so he should be able to recognize you.”
“When do we leave?” Logan said, sounding a bit bored.
“Scott has already prepped the jet,” Charles smiled benevolently. At times, Ororo thought the Professor had a strange sort of soft spot for Logan.
“Come on then, darlin’, best not keep the kid waitin’,” the grouchy man said before standing.
He left the room before she could even respond.
“Well, isn’t he dripping with gentility?” Henry muttered with as close to sarcasm as he ever spoke.
“That was actually one of his more charming moments,” Charles quipped.
The thought that Logan had probably heard the exchange due to his genetically enhanced hearing kept her laughter inward as she bid Henry and Charles goodbye before heading to the hangar.
~@~
The flight from Westchester to Chicago was not, in actual time, a long trip. However, the unease between Ororo and Logan made it seem endless. She had not spoken to him at all, save a few muttered commands when they prepared for take off.
Piloting was usually quite soothing for Ororo. While not held aloft by anything save obedient winds, it was flying nonetheless. Logan sat beside her, arms crossed over his chest, looking generally moody. That was not contusive to a pleasant flight.
She checked the gauges again, not looking over to her teammate. If he wanted to wallow in his own grumpiness, she would leave him to it. When he decided to be civil, she would address him and not a moment before.
“Thirsty?” he asked suddenly.
“No, thank you,” she replied curtly, partially because he had surprised her.
“Suit yourself.”
The rustle of his leather uniform told her he was leaving his seat. Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she readied the jet for landing. Out of the large windows before her, she noted what seemed to be smoke rising from a home on the edge of the Chicago River.
“Logan!”
Running footsteps heralded the man’s approach. He threw himself into the seat beside hers, eyes locked onto the window.
“What the hell is that?”
Ororo consulted her map, making calculations quickly in her head.
“While I hope I am wrong, I believe it is the Stevenson home.”
“Too late, as always. Damn,” Logan grumbled. “Ideas?”
“Perhaps,” she mused. “How long would you need to assess the situation once on the ground?”
“Fifteen seconds,” he replied, all business now.
“All right,” she agreed, flipping a switch on the jet that locked its movements into a hover.
“What are we doing?”
She unbuckled the five-point safety harness keeping her in the seat. Standing, she released a bit of her will, gathering the elements about the jet. Winds and dark clouds rolled about them as the ramp clicked open.
“Storm? What are you doing?”
“Hold on,” she commanded, pulling the winds into the jet. “You may get a bit dizzy.”
Logan’s questions faded into the howling wind as it lifted them. Using her carefully constructed control, Storm propelled them out of the jet. The moment she caught sight of the angry mob several meters below them, she unleashed the fearsome rain she had kept locked in the sky, covering roaring flame below them and shocking the mob.
Storm directed the winds to carry them lower, dropping Logan in the backyard of the burning home. She watched him stumble for a moment, trying to gain his bearings before she pushed herself back into the sky.
Thick fog blanketed the surrounding area, giving Logan a chance to slip into the home undetected. She watched the humans below inch back in the darkness with a small amount of pride before unclenching a fist to direct a lightning bolt to the ground.
As expected, the bolt did not harm the assemblage, but it did create a stir. Almost as a single unit, they fled from the home. Storm smirked down at them before commanding the winds to return her to the backyard.
Logan appeared a moment later; a woman tossed carelessly over his shoulder, an older man stumbling out behind him, a cloth covering his mouth. The boy they had come to collect was beside him, his hands trained on the fire that seemed to be playing in slow motion.
“Storm!” her teammate screamed into the sky.
Acknowledging his call, she lifted the entire group into the winds with a graceful flick of her wrist, listening intently when Logan instructed the man and boy to relax. He moved the woman so that she was cradled in his arms as Storm propelled the winds toward the jet.
With trained precision, Storm placed the boy, his father, and Logan into the jet. Once the group was safe, she looked about, ensuring she had not missed someone in the fire. Satisfied, she flattened her body and shot toward the jet, where Logan was waiting.
Before she reached the jet, Ororo looked up in time to see Logan shouting her name. He leaped from the jet, into the winds she controlled, gesturing wildly.
It hit her with enough force to stop her acceleration. She flew backward, pain ripping through her body. She placed a hand to her abdomen; through the material of her uniform she could feel the sticky texture of her own blood.
The world instantly snapped to black and she began to fall.
Chapter Two: Choices by Gaineewop
Chapter Two: Choices
Time seemed to stop as she fell.
Wolverine had seen the rifle with his enhanced eyesight only seconds before the fateful shot was fired.
He had thrown himself out of the jet, trusting Storm to catch him. If he had been able to warn her sooner, she might have escaped unscathed.
As he watched Storm’s body crash into the dark, murky waters of the Chicago River, Logan was dimly aware that the howling winds had abated. He realized that he too was falling. He knew that he would survive the fall, but would he recover Strom before it was too late?
Cold folded into his back before it flowed into his arms and legs, stopping at his chest. Looking up over his shoulder, he noted the boy, Jeffrey; standing in the open hatch to the jet, his hands trained on Wolverine’s rapidly descending form.
The kid was slowing him down.
Wolverine turned his attention to the ground, trying to approximate the exact place Storm had fallen and praying to any deity he could think of for a bit of luck. If he didn’t find her soon, she would die. Just like… He tried to shake the thought away, but his treacherous mind completed it anyway.
Just like Jean.
A beat later, he hit the sopping wet ground. Grunting with the force, though he conceded it would have been a lot worse without the aid of his new best friend, he rolled, clenching his jaw to move through the pain.
It took him only seconds to rush across the slippery grass. He took in a great lungful of air as he launched himself into the water, his body shuddering with the onset of shock at the change in temperature.
He stopped in place for a moment, wanting to growl as his bones and flesh knitted back together. Not a single strand of that signature white hair was in sight. He swam a few meters, stopped, and looked around again.
Nothing.
Lungs screaming for air, he pushed himself back to the surface, breathing heavily for only a moment, he inhaled deeply before plunging back into the shadowy depths.
His mind screamed her name as he searched. Precious minutes had gone by. He desperately swam further, trying to look everywhere at once. Cursing the water’s ability to dilute scents, he swam up again, batting fish and all manner of river trash from his current path. Another lungful of air and he was back beneath the surface.
It was then that his eyes caught a faint trail of blood. Starting violently, he turned himself upside down, his heart attempting to beat it’s way out of his chest.
Storm was only a few meters below him, and sinking fast.
Wolverine kicked his legs as hard as he could, shooting his body through the water in the direction of Storm’s prone form. Panic seizing him, he swam faster, lungs burning with the need for air.
He gripped the edge of her cloak a moment later, tugging her toward him as he turned to propel himself to the surface. Logan brought her still form to his chest, cradling her, praying to anyone that would listen. Five minutes without air was all the brain could take before it suffered permanent damage. How long had she been under? Three minutes? Four?
The water broke above his head, his ears ringing almost instantly. He pulled Storm’s head above the water before looking up, eyes going wide as dinner plates at the sight that greeted him.
“Holy shit.”
Jeffrey Stevenson was right above him, holding a hand out to Wolverine.
“Give her to me!” the kid shouted over the roar of the jet.
Not wasting time pondering how the jet had moved, Logan passed Storm’s body to the frightened teen. When she was safely aboard the jet, he climbed in, pushing the kid aside.
Storm’s face was white as chalk, her blood staining the steel of the jet’s floor. Her long, elegant fingers did not move, and her snowy hair matted with slime and mud from the river.
“Who’s flying this thing?” he shouted as Jeffrey closed the ramp.
“My dad. He was a fighter pilot for the Navy.” Jeffrey answered, coming over to where Storm lay.
Wolverine didn’t respond aloud, but he wondered at Storm’s luck. He definitely wanted the odds on this in Vegas. Taking his gloves off, he straddled the dark woman’s thighs, putting his ear to her chest.
“She’s not breathing,” he muttered, sitting up and placing his hands below her breasts.
Jeffrey didn’t reply as Logan tilted Storm’s head back, opening her airway before he started chest compressions. Fifteen hard pushes on the sternum, two deep breaths into her mouth while holding her nose closed.
“Come on, ‘Ro. Don’t you die on me,” he pleaded quietly, repeating the process.
Nothing happened. For nearly a full minute, Wolverine worked on her, trying to force air into her lungs, her heart to beat, ignite in her a will to live.
He could hear someone moving behind him, but he never stopped his pace. Every reason for her to live ran through his mind. They couldn’t lose another one, not so soon. Not because some asshole with a sniper rifle decided to take a shot at her.
“’Ro, breathe, darlin’. Breathe!” he begged gruffly, putting his lips to hers.
She twitched.
Pulling back, he watched Ororo cough, moving to turn over. Quickly, he rolled her onto her side, thumping her hardily on the back to help her expel the water she’d swallowed.
“Hurts,” she groaned, vomiting water onto his uniform.
“I know, darlin’, don’t worry,” he reassured her, rubbing her back.
“B-Boy?” she stuttered, spitting up the rest of the water in her body.
“He’s fine. Let’s look at where that bastard hit ya. Lie still,” Wolverine ordered, wondering how many divine favors he owed to hear her voice again.
“Tired,” Ororo whispered as she lay on her back.
“Just sit back, I’ve got ya.”
Her blue eyes opened halfway, a smile forming on her lips.
“I know.”
When her eyes closed again, Logan placed his fingers to the pulse point at her neck. Her heart was beating, but it was weak. She had lost a good deal of blood.
“Kid, comere,” he snapped. “Get me the first aid kit from under that chair.”
The boy snapped into action as Logan looked over his shoulder. “Hey! You know where you’re going?”
Mr Stevenson answered immediately. “I just spoke to a young man named Summers. He’s guiding me. How’s the girl?”
Snikt.
Jeffrey appeared with the first aid kit just as Wolverine unsheathed a claw, slicing Storm’s sopping uniform to get to her wound. The hole in her mocha flesh told him the bullet had gone deep, blood squirted from the wound with every beat of her heart. Without medical attention, soon, she would bleed to death.
“Alive, for now. Get One-Eye on the horn again and tell him we’ll need a medic. Now!”
~@~
He sat in the War Room for hours once the jet had returned home. The big, blue mutant named Henry had whisked Storm away almost before the jet’s engine was off. Logan had released her reluctantly. She looked so weak, so fragile. Was she really the same person that had lifted four people to safety by controlling the wind?
Sitting in the War Room, alone, he had time to think over the entire damn thing. The fire. The mob. Storm’s uncanny ability with the wind, the rain, and the cataclysmic bolts of lightning burned forever in his memory. Hadn’t she said only a few months ago “I can’t control it like that”? Where had that control come from?
She’d been unbelievable. Riding the winds as though she were some kind of ancient goddess, carrying them all to safety as a mother would her little ones. The faith he’d had in her, no matter the consequences. He had never had that for another person.
Wolverine toyed with the bit of leather he had torn from her uniform. It was stained with her blood, the stench of it misting into his oversensitive nose. Storm had nearly died in his arms. The thought alone made him shiver. How close had he and Cyclops come to being the only X-Men?
A glance at the clock told him it was far past two in the morning. Storm had been in surgery for four hours. He went back to his study of the leather, catching a hint of Storm’s scent mingled with that of her blood and the river.
Their last conversation came back to him. She had said something about choosing sides again. That he could chose to live in the now or concede the point.
A life here with us or a life that ended with Jean’s.
Only hours ago, he had taken offense to that statement. How could she say that to him? He had remained at the mansion when everything in him had wanted to flee in the aftermath of Jean’s death. Everything here reminded him of her.
He had stayed for Rogue. She needed someone she could connect to. Sure, she’d formed a bond with the fearless leader of the X-Men and with ‘Ro. But what the girl needed was someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat the situation. He would give it to her real. And, as long he was being honest with himself, after loss of Jean, he didn’t trust anyone enough to protect her. She had started him on this long road to rejoining the living.
As long as he was being completely honest with himself, ‘Ro’s little “At least I’ve chosen a side” speech had some sway with him as well. They were an all right group, for a bunch of geeks.
The door to the War Room opened, revealing his least favorite person in the mansion. Cyclops.
“Any word?” he asked quietly.
Not wanting to speak with him, Logan shook his head sharply, tucking the piece of leather into his uniform.
“No.”
To his dismay, Scott plopped into the chair opposite him, his red-lens covered eyes trained on the table.
“What the hell happened, Logan?”
Feathers ruffled, he straightened in his chair, glaring at the young pup that dared call himself a leader.
“It went to hell. We got there too late and my teammate got fucking shot!”
Scott looked up at him, a set line to his jaw as though he were trying to contain his temper.
“That’s not what I meant. What happened with Storm that she was so upset?”
Stunned silent, Logan could only stare at the younger man, his customary scowl affixed to his face.
“The kid said she used wind to get you all to the jet. Storm doesn’t have that kind of control unless she’s wielding a lot of power. Her power comes from her emotions. So, what the hell happened that got her so riled up?”
He hadn’t known that about her powers. How could he? He’d never bothered to ask her. Calming down once more, Logan thought over the woman’s behavior over the last several weeks, mentally flipping through images.
Scott was right, he conceded grudgingly. Storm never lost her cool. Not even when that bastard Sabretooth had her trapped in the torch of the Statue of Liberty so many months ago. Not even when they had battled Stryker. She kept herself controlled.
“I don’t know, One-Eye. She’s been pretty normal to me,” he said at last.
“I’ve known Storm a long time. She only gets that wrapped up in her powers when something’s bothering her,” Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jean was always the one that knew how to talk to her.”
Irritated that the whelp was interrupting his musings, Logan spoke before thinking.
“Well, Jean’s not around to take care of it anymore,” he spat. “We’re gonna have to figure it out, aren’t we?”
The pain that crossed Scott’s face made him want to claw himself. No matter the issues between them, it was a low blow and he knew it. Rather than apologize, Logan looked away, chewing on his tongue. God help him if Storm found out about that little incident.
“All I’m saying, Wolverine,” Scott said as he stood. “Is that we need to figure out what’s going on. Last time she was able to control wind like that, she blew up and we damn near had a hurricane right here in Westchester.”
Before Logan could retort the man was gone.
As the door swung closed, a furry blue hand caught it, pushing it open. Logan could see Scott in the hall, staring at the man called Beast. Wolverine stood slowly, clutching his hands into fists.
“Ororo is resting now. The bullet nicked her liver, but it was easily repaired. A few of her ribs were bruised, but it was not serious. She should be awake in a few hours and on her feet in no time,” the painfully cheerful man reported.
Logan released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He moved around the table, shaking the enormous hand much more amicably than he had several hours ago.
“Thanks,” he nodded.
“You did well, Wolverine. You were lucky you found her when you did.”
Scott excused himself to report to the Professor, obviously wanting some kind of escape.
Henry looked at Logan, closing the door as he entered the War Room fully.
“Ororo said something before I sedated her,” the huge man’s eyes pinned Logan where he stood.
“About me?”
“Yes,” he paused. “She wanted to know if you had made a choice yet.”
Logan nearly choked. Of course she would think of that at a time like this. She was a natural teacher and there was, obviously, a lesson to be learned here.
“When she wakes up, tell her…”he faltered. “Tell her “soon”.”
The big blue doctor nodded, looking a bit confused. “I will relay your message.”
He didn’t pause as he left the War Room. In fact, he didn’t stop walking until he was in his room, ignoring the whispered conversations going on in the kitchen as he passed. Rogue, her boyfriend, and that girl named Kitty were talking about Storm.
Once in his room, he ripped his uniform off and sat heavily on the bed. Storm wanted to know what he’d chosen. With an inward sigh, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. If he concentrated, he could smell a hint of Jean’s perfume. He could hear her voice, feel her inside his mind.
The pain was not as bad as it had been. It was like a scar on his heart, fading slowly with each day. Could he do it? Could he open himself up that little bit and let someone besides a girl he thought of as a cousin in?
And if he did, how would he survive if he lost again?
Chapter Three: Windrider by Gaineewop
Chapter Three: Windrider
Someone was talking.
She could hear the faint voices of two very familiar people above her. Frowning, she tried to concentrate on what they were saying. The soft rumble of Henry countered the Professor’s dulcet tones. They were speaking, but she could not focus enough to understand them.
Ororo tried to move, hissing when pain shot through her abdomen and chest. She was lying on something cold and hard. It was a medical bed. Had she been injured?
Memories sketchy, she raised a trembling hand, trying to capture the attention of one of the men in the room. She sighed with relief when Henry’s enormous furred hand grasped hers.
Wincing against the light, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, but she instantly recognized the outline of Henry’s face. Aftereffects of her sedation screamed that she had been badly injured. A trickle of fear crept into her heart.
There had been a mission. She remembered flashes of a boy’s photograph. Flame engulfing a home. Pain ripping through her side. The cold chill of water all around her. Darkness overwhelming her sight. A gruff voice telling her to breathe…
Logan.
“L-Logan?” she questioned, surprised at the harsh crackle of her voice.
Henry nodded, reaching over her body. He spoke, but the words were still garbled. She heard the Professor reply. There was a sharp prick of a needle in her arm and moments later the world came into sharp focus.
“Ouch,” she murmured with a raspy chuckle.
“Better?” Henry asked, his hand squeezing hers.
“Much,” Ororo replied, smiling. “Why does my chest hurt?”
Her friend smiled warmly, leaning down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly fashion.
“Because two very large hands, laced with adamantium pounded on your chest to get your heart beating.”
“That would explain it,” she agreed.
Henry moved to the head of her bed, cranking the knob allowing her to sit up. He made some show of fluffing her pillows and arranging her blankets. Knowing he had been worried, she allowed his simple attentions, turning her head slowly to look at her mentor.
“It is good to see you awake, my dear,” Charles said, moving closer. “You had all of us quite worried.”
Her answering smile was shaky as the narcotics Henry had given her were still wearing off. Charles took the hand Henry had released, his face betraying his relief.
“What was it?”
“A gunshot,” he replied softly. “Logan told us that a human man had been armed with some sort of sniper rifle. He tried to warn you, but it was too late.”
A flash of memory slammed through her. Logan’s frantic gestures, leaping from the safety of the jet onto the winds as her world turned to black.
“Was he injured?” Ororo asked, her voice a bit shrill as she looked about for her teammate.
“Not when he arrived. Young Jeffery’s reflexes were in high gear from the attack on his home. Before he knew what he was doing, he was slowing Logan’s descent. After which, Logan pulled you from the water.”
As if on cue, the door to the infirmary popped open, slamming against the wall to reveal the Wolverine. His eyes bore a hint of barely controlled panic as he silently searched the room for her.
The moment his eyes met hers, a calm came over him. She smiled as well as she could.
“Gonna live?”
She nodded slowly. “You will not be rid of me that easily.”
His lips curved into the hint of a smirk as he came up to the bed. Henry quickly stepped aside, coming around to take the hand rests of the Professor’s wheelchair.
“We’ll be outside. The children will want to know you’re awake,” he said politely, wheeling their leader out of the room.
When they were alone, Ororo looked up into her teammate’s face, her brow furrowed. He had pulled her from the water. He had started her heart again, breathed life into her lungs. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by the loyalty such an act engendered. He had saved her life and for that, she would forever be in debt.
“Thank you,” she whispered effectively breaking the silence.
Logan looked down at her, confusion in his eyes. He took another step toward the bed, standing so close she could smell the leather he wore and the natural aroma he seemed forever cloaked in.
“For what?”
His gruff manner had her biting back a smile. She could only imagine how hard he had worked to keep her alive.
“Saving my life,” she answered.
He nodded quickly. “We’re a team, ‘Ro. Can’t be a team if it’s just me and One-Eye. That’s a duo.”
A chuckle escaped her lips, making her bruised chest and wounded abdomen ache. When she winced, Logan took her hand, looking over her covered form as though searching for any reason she would be in pain.
“Should I get…”
“No. No, I am fine,” Ororo insisted, squeezing his hand. “I am not going anywhere.”
He seemed to accept this. Silence fell around them, their eyes locked as she desperately tried to reassure him that she was not going to die. She would be here. Trying to push thoughts of Jean from her mind, she smiled at him. I’m here.
Logan turned, pulling what she thought to be a chair over to the bed. He sat quickly, his hand never leaving hers. When he was comfortable, he turned back to her, leaning on the edge of the bed as though he were going to tell her a secret.
“I thought about what you said. About choices,” he said at last.
Ororo remained silent, wondering what he was going to say.
“I had feelings for Jean, feelings I’ve never had before…at least, not that I remember.”
“I understand,” she replied softly, silently urging him to go on.
“When I opened that door, let her in, I expected to be let down. I just never thought she’d up and die on me.”
Pain, the psychological sort, echoed with his words. Ororo wanted, so badly, to make that pain go away. If she could heal someone else, perhaps she could find some measure of peace. She knew a bit about people leaving. Everyone in her life had left at some point.
“But you’re right,” the gruff man went on. “I have to choose between letting myself stay open to pain or letting myself die along with her. I opened myself up and I got burned. It’d be easy to just let that part of me fall away.”
He paused.
“I guess what I’m sayin’ is…seeing you fall. Knowing that you could have died, left all of us like Jean did, made me realize that you, One-Eye, the kids, accepted me. Maybe not completely, but you’re all I’ve got, even if you are a bunch of geeks.” He gave her a quick smile. “I don’t wanna lose that again.”
Ororo turned slightly, stretching her free hand to touch his face. Pride exploded within her. She had reached him. Perhaps, someday, she could reach Scott as well. She needed an ally. Backup. In the war with death, she had won an important battle.
“I’m tryin’, ‘Ro. That’s all I got ta give ya for now,” he finished quietly.
“That is all that I ask, Logan.”
His eyes closed and he leaned into her hand for an instant. Comfort was a rare commodity in their world; at last he was realizing how much any person needed it.
“Get some rest,” he said abruptly, standing from his perch on the chair. “I’ve got class.”
Brow furrowed, she let her hands fall away from him, her skin tingling with the aftermath of contact. It had been a long time since anyone had allowed touch. With the pain of loss, it seemed as though everyone kept themselves within an invisible bubble. As though keeping one another at arm’s length would protect them.
“Class?”
Logan’s face broke into a feral grin. “Yeah, didn’t Chuck tell ya? I’m Professor Logan until you’re healed up.”
“Oh, dear,” Ororo laughed.
“That’s what the kids said,” he quipped.
Ororo was still chuckling as Logan left the room. He paused in the doorway, giving her a rare smile. She waved a little, assuring him once more that she was going to be fine. Without another word, he walked out of the infirmary.
~@~
Three weeks had passed since the disaster in Chicago. Ororo had been moved back to her rooms after a week in the infirmary, but was restricted to light duty until Henry gave her a clean bill of health.
She took the downtime to catch up on her reading, and to pester Logan mercilessly about his teaching career. He took her jibes with good humor, a smile more frequently found on his lips as the children finished up yet another school year.
Jeffery and his family had been relocated to New York, and the boy who had helped save her life would be returning in three months to begin school. He was training with the Professor during the summer, stopping by every other day for hours of practical lessons. He had blushed the color of a ripe tomato when Ororo had thanked him for his help, and she felt there would always be a bond between them from their first meeting.
It was the beginning of June now, the air fragrant with blooming lilacs .The children whom did not live at the mansion year round were sent home, while those that remained relaxed on the extensive grounds.
Scott was slowly climbing out of the darkness that had overwhelmed him. Every passing day his step became lighter, his hidden sense of humor showing a little more. He and Logan had fallen into a pattern of shared taunts and insults; though Ororo thought they had more to do with habit that any real hatred.
Rogue, Bobby, Peter Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde had all finished their schooling at the year’s close. Kitty would attend New York University in the fall, but the others had decided to stay on at the mansion. Apparently their encounter with Stryker had left them more determined to fight than ever.
Logan and Scott had somehow designed a way to train them in dangerous combat situations without putting them in actual combat situations. Even the Professor was excited about this new project, but none of them would tell her what it was.
Things were settling at the mansion, life was moving on.
Ororo walked slowly to the deck, smiling when she heard a few of her friends laughing in the grassy hillside that served as their playground. She could smell cooking meat nearby and guessed that dinner was in the capable hands of their resident Wolverine. Again.
Stepping into the warm sunlight, Ororo shielded her eyes with a hand, doing a mental headcount of the group in the distance. Kitty, Henry, Peter, Bobby, Rogue, and Scott had assembled the volleyball net and seemed to be laughing more than actually playing the game.
“Shouldn’t you be sittin’ down?” a gruff voice called to her from the grill.
Smiling widely at her new best friend, as she called him now, Ororo shrugged, moving to the steps that would take her to him.
“It is too nice a day to spend indoors. I thought I would rest out here,” she replied, gripping the railing of the deck to ease down the steps.
Her wounds had been healed, but she still became sore if she moved too quickly or was on her feet too long. Stairs still proved a grueling task. She was not surprised when Logan abandoned his culinary masterpiece to take her arm, leading her down the steps.
“In that case, where do you want to sit? I’ll get ya a chair,” he offered when her bare feet finally hit the soft earth.
Ororo laughed when Henry fell face-first into the small sandpit that served as their volleyball court before answering.
“Just there, under that tree would be lovely, thank you,” she told her bodyguard. “I’d like to watch the game.”
“Give me just a sec, don’t wanna let the meat burn,” Logan said, leaving her side to fetch a patio chair for her.
She would never, ever admit it aloud, but the attention she had received over the last weeks was adorable in a strange sort of way. Henry, Scott, and even the Professor treated her as Logan did, as though they were afraid she would keel over from strain if she did anything herself.
Perhaps some women, in the pursuit of equal treatment, had forgotten the feminine thrill of having men behave with something akin to chivalry. Not Ororo. She did an inward tap dance of joy every time one of her friends reached into a cupboard, opened a door, or fetched her a chair. Though she was eager to return to her duty as an X-Man, she savored the long-thought dead treatment.
Carefully, Ororo assessed the situation of the evening meal cooking on the open-fire grill. She took up the sharp fork Logan had left and turned thick slabs of steak and chicken to ensure they would not burn. Proud that she managed that on her own, she turned in search of her knight and protector.
Logan had set up her chair under a large willow tree, but he had not stopped there. Enlisting Peter’s unsurpassed strength, the men had moved the picnic table and benches complete with the rest of their meal, to the tree. It was apparent that they did not want Ororo to move over much while everyone enjoyed the sunlight.
Henry appeared at her side as the game took an unofficial break. Without a pause, Ororo roped her arm with her furry friend’s, allowing him to help her to the group under the tree. The day was warm, nearly too warm and without the hint of a breeze. But the sun was shining all its glory in the cloudless sky. It was the sort of day when nothing seemed to bother her.
Just as Henry and Ororo found their way to the tree, Peter released his gift, turning himself from his steel plated skin to his normal vulnerable self. Rogue and Bobby were nosily downing bottles of a sports drink the children were fond of as Kitty flirted with Colossus.
“Storm? It’s very hot out here, think yah could whip up a breeze for us?” young Marie asked, pouting a little as she wiped sweat from her forehead.
Ororo settled on her chair as Henry began to chide the sweet Southern girl about requesting such things while Storm was recovering.
With an impish wink to her friend, Ororo gathered her will, releasing a light breeze through the grounds, much to the relief of her companions.
“Ah, now that’s betta. Come on then, boys, let’s finish our game!” Rogue winked to Storm as she dragged her friends back to the volleyball net.
Noting that Logan had gone off to tend his grill, Ororo sat back in the comfortable patio chair, watching the others play a ridiculously undisciplined game. They crashed into one another, fell down, flopped into the net and did all manner of things to make one another laugh. Ororo watched them, chuckling all the while.
Logan returned a few minutes later, setting plates of meat on the groaning picnic table before taking a beer and throwing himself onto the bench beside her chair, pushing his cowboy hat back with the long neck of his bottle.
“Looks like a bunch of monkeys trying to change a flat,” her friend said with a snort.
Ororo raised a white brow to him, nodding toward the net. “I would like to see the infamous Wolverine do any better.”
He took a long draw from his bottle, turning to her with an eyebrow raised in response to hers.
“Is that a challenge?”
Primly wiping at her skirt, Ororo shrugged. “Take it as you will.”
He shook his head, setting his beer down. “Not today, darlin’. I’d just end up poppin’ the ball and then everyone would be unhappy.”
They sat for a while in companionable silence, laughing together when their friends would do something rather entertaining on the volleyball court. Ororo closed her eyes after a time, placing her head back against the headrest of her chair.
She felt something softly tingle at her mind, a presence remembered from years with an old friend. Frowning, she winced, keeping her eyes closed. The feeling had come to her quite often in the last months. Professor Xavier had explained that it was Storm’s mind, reaching out for any sign of Jean.
It had not happened since Chicago and she fought to clear her mind of the strange feeling.
“Hey, ‘Ro?” Logan asked using the nickname she had grown fond of.
“Yes, Logan?” she replied, not opening her eyes.
“What does your name mean?”
Startled by the question, she blinked her eyes open, turning to look at him. He had an interested look on his face, one she had seen frequently when he asked for help while he taught her History and Calculus classes.
“Beauty,” Ororo replied after a moment. “My mother and I, are descendant from a line of African priestesses, all of them had the white hair. She named me after one of her ancestors.”
“Oh,” he said roughly. “I hear you were a goddess in Africa?”
Blushing a little under her dark skin, she nodded, the breeze kicking up around them as her nerves began to get the better of her. She did not enjoy talking about the Windrider, as she had been called. Foolishness of adolescence was hard to explain.
“There was a tribe, my mother’s actually, that worshipped me. My mother’s line all had some sort of prowess for “magic”, though that could mean they were mutants. I was young; impressionable…I would have remained in that childhood fantasy had Charles not come looking for me.”
It was the most she had ever said to one person about her former life. Logan’s eyes penetrated her, as though searching for the reason his calm, unflappable teammate would succumb to the trappings of idolatry.
“I can see why,” Logan stated, as though it were a common fact.
Luckily, the arrival of hungry mutants halted the line of questioning. As they fell on Logan’s carefully prepared meal, Ororo found herself watching the man they called Wolverine. He showed no discomfort as he ate beside her, but she could not help wondering why he had given her such a…compliment.
When dinner was over, Ororo took her leave, the clouds darkening above them. With a shrug, she maintained that the gathering storm was not her doing, and headed inside as the others proceeded to clean up their mess before the storm broke.
For some reason, she could feel the heavy weight of Logan’s gaze on her back as she made a smooth escape.
Once in her room, she closed the door, bolting it behind her. The clouds had broken above Westchester, drenching the previously beautiful day. Ororo moved to her balcony, opening the large French doors and stepping into the steady downpour.
No, the storm was not her doing, but that did not mean she could not revel in it.
She moved back inside, touching the security panel by the bedroom door. Once she flicked through the images, locating her friends and the Professor, she allowed herself a wicked smile.
Discarding her clothing in favor of a light sarong that she knotted at her shoulder, she stepped back onto the terrace with bare feet, closing her eyes when the wind kicked up as though greeting her.
She manipulated the winds, smirking to herself at the thought that Henry would murder her if he learned about this. Once the wind was strong enough to support her weight, she slowly ascended, sighing with relief as she unleashed part of her restrained power.
The storm intensified, raging around her as she hovered above the mansion, finally allowing the grief she kept locked within her to break free, just enough to take the edge off. Keeping scarcely enough wind at her command to stay aloft, she drifted, allowing the storm to take her into its majestic fold.
While others not gifted with her powers would have cringed from the fierce storm, Ororo welcomed it, a peace wrapping about her like a thick wool blanket as the storm carried her, rolling her through the skies as though she were a part of it.
No one could understand the freedom that came with nature. Here, she could release herself, let her wild side loose without fear of property damage or injuring someone. The elements were at her command, but even for Storm, they had rules. She could let go here, in this natural element, and the storm would not alter its course if she asked it.
For hours she tumbled through the air, breathing in the heady scent of wet earth and heavy raindrops. Nothing could touch her here. This was solace. Through the black sky, she could see flashes of lightning; hear the booming rumble of thunder.
Home.
When the storm finally abated, Ororo forced herself to return to the mansion, feeling more rejuvenated than she ever had. Windrider, she thought with a smile as she crept into her room, sopping wet.
I can see why.
Logan’s words echoed in her mind as she changed into dry clothing and settled into bed. What would he say if he had seen her? The ice queen loving a storm as though it were flesh and blood. Would he be appalled, or would he understand more than anyone else, a child of the primitive earth as well?
Pushing thoughts of Logan away, she inhaled the remaining scent of rain from her hair before drifting into a peaceful slumber.
Chapter Four: Scent by Gaineewop
Chapter Four: Scent
Logan sat in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, sipping a cup of coffee as he tried to make sense of things. It was a ritual for the early riser. In the quiet hours of morning, when the world took its time at waking up, he could sit in the silence and think. With only the soft chirp of distant birds for company.
Jean had been gone eight months now. In that time, so much had changed…and with it, changed him.
Nightcrawler, as he had been called, had taken his time getting out of the X-Men’s way. He was a religious man, not one for fighting. Apparently he had gone off to Germany to “atone for his sins”. That was all right by Logan. One less person to irritate him.
He knew that the man named Kurt…or something, was still in contact with Rogue. He called her nearly every week to check up on her. Logan conceded that the blue-tailed mutant had made the effort because of the young girl’s reaction to his rescue of her. The teleporter had daringly grabbed her in mid-air, saving her life in that horrific aerial attack eight months ago. He had to admit, it would have created a bond with anyone.
Rogue. He smiled to himself. The daughter and sister he had never had. She was closer to him than, well, anyone. Her smile was worth all the insults he had to put up with from Cyclops and it was for her that he had not run off again. It was for her that he kept himself locked away in the mansion.
She was still dating the Iceman, Bobby Drake. The boy had been asked to not return to his family’s home. Who could blame them? The kid’s friend had set fire to a dozen cops, not to mention their home. Bobby had a desire to be an X-Man, to be with Rogue. Logan wouldn’t admit it under severe torture, but he approved of the relationship, no matter the pitfalls. The kid was obviously not in it for the sex.
Cyclops was another interesting development. He had fallen into an emotional abyss when Jean left them, withdrawing within himself for weeks. Only after Storm’s near-death experience did he begin to show signs of life. Logan idly wondered if that had been the white-haired woman’s intention all along. He wouldn’t put it passed her, she lived and breathed this school along with everyone in it.
With Jean out of the picture, Scott and Logan had formed a relationship as close to friendship as they were going to get. They traded insults, pushed buttons, and generally carried on, but some of the bite had left it. Working on projects and training for the newest generation of X-Men kept them occupied…and helped prevent bloodshed. Chuck was touchy about that sort of thing.
Despite his brief foray into the teaching world, Logan did not have much to do around the place. Whenever brawn was needed, he rose to the occasion, but most of the time he wandered about, bored out of his mind. At least with Project: Danger Room, he had something. A few times he had even considered asking to take over combat training. He felt asking now might send the resident Boy Scout into a conniption.
Xavier still spoke with Logan when he could, trying to draw more memories from his previous life to the surface. All in all, they were unsuccessful. Logan was almost happy about that. He had enough bad memories as it was, his nightmares changing from the experiences fifteen years ago at Alkali Lake to clinging to Rogue’s limp form on Liberty Island, holding Scott as he wept over the loss of Jean, of not saving Storm in time three weeks ago.
She smells like rain.
The wayward thought threw his process off track. He had come to the conclusion at dawn this morning. Hell, after witnessing her little adventure the night before, it would have been strange not to.
Ororo. His friend. Well, when she wasn’t occupied being a genius with Hank and Chuck or a sister to Cykie or a teacher and mentor to the kids. She would listen to him talk about anything, or sit with him in comfortable silence, not needing to fill the quiet with empty words.
He had taken to watching her carefully. At first, it had been simply to ensure that she was healing properly. After that…it became entertaining. Her entire body radiated raw power to anyone astute enough to pick it up. Her movements were always graceful, controlled. Sometimes, he wondered what it would take to crack the ice around that woman.
For some reason, her words had an effect on him. From that first altercation when Rogue had been kidnapped by Magneto, her challenge, she had stayed with him. Always on the edge of his awareness. She was his conscience. Choices. She was obsessed with choices.
He had not had many choices in his life. Things were taken from him, taken for him. Storm’s radical insistence that he make choices had come along to round out his thinking process. There was always a choice.
Jean had made a choice.
Thinking her name or even saying it no longer blinded him with pain. Jean had made it clear to him that her choice had always been Scott. She chose her fiancée over him, despite his relentless attentions. Jean had chosen to leave the jet that day, sacrificing herself for the team.
A small smile played about his lips as he shoved the memories of her channeled goodbye to her lover via the Professor, of Scott’s cries, the grief that had been written over every face that day. Concentrate on the good, bub, he told himself sternly.
Turning his thoughts from Jean, which he found easier every day, he thought back to the night before. Taking off into the woods as an animal caged too long would. There had been the ferocity of the summer storm, the feel of earth under his feet, the powerful smell of nature exploding around him.
When the storm had intensified, he’d looked up, shocked when he noted a slender human form drifting in the whipping winds. Fascinated, Logan watched his teammate commune with her powers, thunder and lightning crashing around her, the fat raindrops soaking her clothing and skin as the wind pulled her hair into it’s currents like a banner.
He’d never seen anything so breathtaking. The sight of her lithe body held within the rolling clouds above. The goddess she had been in Africa mixed with the powerful woman he had come to know. Watching her that way, he did, truly, understand the nature of her tribe’s worship. If he had less control over his baser instincts, he would bow down in adulation as well.
It was then that he finally recognized the origin of her unique smell. Everyone at the mansion had one, even without the aid of perfumes or colognes. While the scents were unique, he could often associate them with surroundings or things each person was fond of. In the case of mutants, it often had some kind of connection to their powers.
The Professor, for instance, smelled of old English leather and rust. It was the scent of someone who loved books and expensive things. Rogue always had a scent of flowers around her, something sweet and innocent. That Bobby kid, he always had a clean scent, like a lakeshore as winter ice began to melt with spring. Cyclops always had an air of burned wood or grass to him.
Ororo smelled like rain. That heady, earthy scent anyone could pick up after the skies released a raging storm. She never masked it with fancy perfumes. It was always there, like a scion of nature even in the slick metallic halls of the mansion’s lower levels. As he thought about it, he realized that her scent reminded him of the wilds he was fond of. Perhaps that was why her presence seemed to calm him.
Logan looked up when he heard a soft footfall in the hallway leading to the kitchen. He raised his nose slightly, testing the air. The acrid scent of cleansers and soap greeted him. Beast.
“Good morning, Logan,” the Beast greeted in the quiet voice most use in early morning. “Is there any coffee left?”
“Yeah,” Logan growled over his cup. “Want to get me a refill?”
“Of course,” Henry replied, moving to take his nearly empty cup. “Would you like something to eat? I believe it is my turn for breakfast.”
Logan hated to admit it, but he was slowly growing to like this enormous man. He had a calm about him, none of the ferocity of an animal, though his appearance said otherwise. He was cheerful to a fault, but there was compassion in him that no one was exempt from. It did not matter how long he had known you. If he liked you, you were one of his own. Simple. Why he had returned to the X-Men was largely unknown, but Logan had a sneaky suspicion that he had returned at the Professor’s insistence. For ‘Ro.
“Eggs, if you don’t mind. And bacon,” he answered.
“A wise choice,” his companion grinned.
Though Logan liked the man, he talked entirely too much. There was always something on the furry blue mutant’s mind. Something he just ached to share with everyone in the vicinity. Storm often sat across from him at meals and let him talk at her. Not with her. At her. She would nod, smile, ask a question occasionally. She had a good deal of patience when it came to Hank.
But this morning, the Beast was quiet. In fact, he seemed damn near reclusive as he brought Logan his coffee and started breakfast. Not another word was spoken between them, even when Hank finished preparing the morning meal and sat down across from him. Logan did not want to get into a long conversation about genetics or “ God forbid “ feelings this early, so he let it lie. Ororo or Scott could flush things out.
Almost the instant he thought her name, the scent of fresh rain drifted into the kitchen, accompanied by the light thump of heeled boots on the carpeting that heralded Storm’s arrival. For some reason, Logan sat up a bit in his chair, sipping his coffee to cover the movement from the other animalistic persona at the table.
“Good morning, Henry, Logan,” she greeted in her even tone. “Have you two heathens left anything for us humans?”
Logan noted the wistful tone of her voice and gave an inward laugh. Of course she felt like a million bucks. She had spent hours last night in her element. Literally. He had to admit, he had a similar feeling. He ran. She communed. Interesting.
Of course, that meant he had to tease her. He was willing to bet his adamantium that she had not told ol’ Hank about her adventure. Logan assumed Beast would not be happy.
“Mornin’,” he grumbled after Hank replied to her. “Hank made coffee and breakfast.”
“Thank you,” she gave them both one of her rare, huge grins. “This smells wonderful.”
He waited until she came to the table, sliding over in the booth to make room for her. She sat beside him, her face turned up to the morning sky for a moment, as though it were whispering something meant for her ears alone.
Once she lifted her fork, Logan pounced.
“That was some storm last night, ‘Ro. You sure it wasn’t you? Had your smell all over it,” he tested over his coffee cup.
Storm’s features did not change a fraction. He had to hand it to her, she was good.
“I am quite sure, Logan. Had it been me, I would have admitted it,” Ororo replied.
Logan grunted, chewing on a slice of bacon, deciding to up the ante.
“Ah, well. Thought I’d thank ya. Had a hell of a good time running through the woods with that thing above me,” he muttered quietly.
Had he not been watching her out of the corner of his eye, he would not have noticed the tightening of her eyebrows. She tended to do that when she was trying to figure something out.
When her blue eyes met his, he saw a question in them. He grinned. She did a fair imitation of his scowl.
“Well, I’m done here,” he announced loudly, nudging Ororo so she would slide out of the booth to let him out.
The weight of her stare followed him as he left the booth and rinsed his dishes, placing them into the dishwasher as Scott entered the room. Deciding to hang back a moment, he signaled to Cykie, indicating that he wanted a word when he was finished with breakfast. The X-Men’s leader nodded as he scooped eggs from the pan, saying good morning to Storm and Beast.
Lighting a cigar, Logan left the kitchen in search of Rogue. They had a training schedule to keep and he knew he would have to wake her himself. At least the others actually obeyed their irritating alarm clocks.
As he traveled through the quiet mansion, he could smell the trail Storm had left behind. How had be not been able to pinpoint her scent before? Shaking his head, he pulled a hard drag from his cigar, pinching it between his teeth as he nodded a good morning to Peter.
“I’ll be in the training room,” the huge teenager said, already dressed and ready to go.
“Outside. We’re running first,” he corrected the boy.
“Yes, Professor Logan.”
Smirking to himself, he knocked on Marie’s door. He could hear Colossus pounding on Bobby’s door to get him moving. The kid had a way with leadership. If ol’ One-Eye didn’t watch himself, he’d be taking orders from the boy soon.
“Marie? Get up!” Logan shouted through her door.
His sensitive ears picked up a muffled gasp and a loud thud from inside Rogue’s room. Sensing danger, Wolverine released his claws with a resonating snikt. Peter’s footsteps behind him and the eerie sound of the boy covering himself with his metal mutation told him he had backup, should he need it.
Logan raised a leg and kicked the door in, stepping through the splintered wood, whole body on the alert. There were many things he could handle…Rogue in danger was not on that list.
“Logan!”
Rogue’s cry came from the direction of her bed, followed by a male swearing violently.
Bobby.
“What in hell?”
He felt his eyes go wide as they fell on a rather tragic scene. Rogue, clad in her body-stocking and nightclothes sat on her bed, hair tousled. Bobby was on the floor…in his boxers and socks.
Instead of retracting his claws, Logan took a menacing step toward the boy, his posture rigid. This wasn’t a kid anymore, this was a man, soon to be an ex-man. Logan growled low in his throat, approaching the bed with the intent to terrify.
Obviously, Bobby had not received the memo about being frightened. The boy’s hand flew up, white ice flowing from his fingers, heedless to Rogue’s cries for the men to “chill out”. Logan grunted as the ice covered his torso, slowing down his advance to a crawl.
Peter stepped between them, grasping Bobby’s hand in his steel grip, releasing Logan from Iceman’s powers.
“Enough,” the larger man nearly shouted. “You too, Wolverine.”
Logan glared at the three of them, claws extended as he pointed to Rogue.
“Come with me. Now!”
He retracted his claws with malevolent sluggishness. He wanted Iceman to get a good look at the adamantium. Rogue slid passed Colossus, who looked ready to lecture his young “teammate” himself as Logan stalked out of the room.
“Logan, what has happened?”
Storm. Damn it. They must have alerted the entire mansion.
“You. Deal with the Ice-Boy,” Logan snapped at her, taking Rogue’s silk-covered arm and steering her into his bedroom across the hall.
He barely registered the shock on ‘Ro’s face before she vanished into Rogue’s room. He slammed his own bedroom door closed behind Rogue, whirling on her.
“What in hell was that?”
The girl whom had never been afraid of him, glared up at him. “We were sleepin’.”
“Sleepin’? Do you know what could have happened?!”
“Happened? Logan, Ah can’t even kiss him…”
“Exactly!” he roared, instinctual protectiveness drawing his claws from their resting place. He turned and destroyed a nearby bookshelf. He couldn’t hit her, after all, and it was his damned bedroom.
Confusion had found it’s way to Marie’s face. Logan took a few deep breaths, trying to quell his irrational anger. When he trusted himself to speak, he retracted his claws.
“Marie,” he began slowly. “What would have happened if he had rolled over in your bed and touched your face in his sleep? Huh? He could have been dead before either of you knew it.”
She looked irritated and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ah know that. Which is why he slept with his head at mah feet, idiot.”
Logan clamped his mouth shut. “Oh.”
Rogue nodded. “Yeah.”
Suddenly unsure of himself, Logan opened the bedroom door for her, clearing his throat. He wouldn’t apologize, and for some reason, he knew she understood that.
“Go get changed, we’re running today.”
“Right,” she replied, stomping out of the room, snarling under her breath. Perhaps the times she had absorbed a part of him had stayed with her after all.
Just as Rogue was leaving, he caught sight of Storm leaving Bobby’s room. She hadn’t seen him, so he watched her. Once she closed Bobby’s door, she covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking. Logan narrowed his eyes as he puffed on his cigar, taking in the posture of her back and the steady rocking of her shoulders.
She was laughing.
Frowning at his obvious overreaction, Logan ducked back into his room to change for training.
It was going to be a long day.
~@~
X-Men, I need to see you in the War Room. As soon as possible.
Logan shook himself awake at the mental beckoning. He hated it when Chuck did that, though it saved time. Especially when he was having a nightmare-free evening. Rolling out of bed, he glanced at the clock.
“Two in the morning? Come on, Chuck,” he groaned, reaching for a shirt to pull over his pajama bottoms.
Forgoing shoes, he grumbled his way out of the bedroom, grunting a greeting to Beast, Storm, and Cyclops.
Like him, they were all in their nightclothes. Storm had taken the time to don a robe and slippers, but Scott and Beast wore only shirts and pajama pants. At least this time, he had not paused to wait for Jean. The thought was brushed aside as the group filed into the hidden elevator that would take them to the lower levels.
Charles was waiting for them, dressed in his customary suit and tie. Apparently, the man had not even been to sleep yet, he had been wearing the exact same outfit at dinner. Testing the air, he caught the scent of anxiety from Charles…and to his surprise, Storm as well.
“This will not be easy to hear,” the Professor began once they were all seated. “But I must send you to Alkali Lake.”
The stunned silence was ripe with tension. Logan’s spine stiffened under the weight of it. Chuck was sending them to the one place he never wanted to lay eyes on again. The base, the watery tomb of one of their own had been the frequent setting for his recurring nightmares.
“Why?” came Cyclops’ choked question. Logan did not even need to look at him to know there was pain written clearly on his face.
“I cannot explain,” the wheelchair bound man replied. “Not because I do not want to, but because I do not understand the nature of this journey. I only know that it is imperative that you leave at once.”
Without a word, Storm rose from her chair and exited the room. Logan had a very bad feeling at that point. She had not even questioned the order and she had already left to prepare the jet. She knew something.
Something unsaid passed between Beast and Charles. Telepathy, no doubt. Cyclops looked to Logan, who could only shrug. Logan was not accustomed to taking orders, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to question a man who could kill him with his brain. Not at two in the morning, anyway.
“Cyclops, perhaps you should stay behind to mind the store with me. Logan, fetch Colossus and get him a uniform.”
Scott did not protest. Logan stood silently, staring at the X-Men’s benefactor in surprise. Cykie was the leader. The only reason to not allow him on the mission would be…
Jean.
A cold trickle of apprehension slipped down Logan’s spine as he exited the War Room in search of Colossus. Stopping at the uniform rack, Wolverine grabbed his own leather threads, and then collected the huge uniform they had ordered for Colossus. The kids didn’t know it, but they all had uniforms waiting for them.
Colossus was the elder of the students. He had been at Xavier’s school longer than any of the graduating class. As such, he had a hell of a lot more training. More than that, Logan trusted him. When Stryker had invaded the mansion, the teenage mutant had ensured many of the children were safe. That earned him a place in the hearts of all the X-Men.
Besides, his mutation made him as close to invulnerable as a person could get and added enough strength to knock down a skyscraper. One never knew when that kind of talent would be useful.
“Colossus!” Logan knocked heavily on his door when he reached it.
A light sleeper, Peter answered ten seconds later, alert and solemn. Logan wordlessly handed him a uniform.
Peter took it with the same seriousness in which he did everything, closing the door a moment later. Logan ducked into the closest empty room he could find, Storm’s as it turned out, and changed. He met Colossus in the hall thirty seconds later.
“Come on, kid, we’ve got work to do.”
Colossus did not question him, he followed Wolverine quickly as they headed back downstairs to the jet and a mission no one understood.
Chapter Five: Let It Rain by Gaineewop
Chapter Five: Let It Rain
The jet eased into a descent as they reached the snow-capped mountains of Alkali Lake. Beast and Colossus had spoken in quiet tones throughout the flight, mostly about life as an X-Man. Logan, consumed with his own thoughts, had remained absolutely silent.
Dawn had risen over the mountains surrounding the lake. The clear blue sky seemed endless, meeting the lake at the horizon. Dark water reflected the sky as though it were a mirror, not even a breeze rippling the surface. Under any other circumstances, it would have been breathtaking.
But Storm was in her own personal hell. The telepathic mind that had called to her so often since Jean’s death reached nearly unbearable proportions the closer they came to the lake. Her head ached with the force it required to concentrate on piloting. Her hands gripped the steering column with white knuckles, her control on her powers slipping with every mile.
Thick fog rolled onto the lake as the X-Men came to a low hover above the water, a testament that her powers were getting the better of her. Nothing remained of the base or the dam. Everything had been tucked neatly into the ocean-sized lake, leaving nothing to the naked eye save the crisp blue water and mountain peaks that seemed to go on forever.
This way. Come closer. Stay back! Help me…
The warring voices in her mind held her captive, unable to even think about anything save the jet and this need to find whatever lay hidden within the water.
She froze as the jet shrieked to a stop exactly above the place Jean had died. She frantically attempted to gain control of the jet, but it stubbornly refused to heed her commands. Logan’s voice was calling to her, mixed with the soft tones of Beast and the thick accent of Colossus.
“Jean…” she whispered.
Leave me! Save me! Ororo…NO!
Voices in her mind screamed with agony, forcing Storm to cover her ears in an attempt to drown them out. Before she could control herself, red-hot flame engulfed the jet and some unknown force pushed the previously motionless plane into the sky at a breakneck pace.
Spiraling upward, Storm did not even attempt to manipulate the controls of the jet. She held on for dear life, her mind searching for the voice of her friend. There was a grumble and shriek of two voices, a battle that she heard in her mind but was happening elsewhere.
She knew, without a doubt that one voice was Jean’s. Grasping that hope, she tried to activate the link Jean had always kept with the X-Men, hoping to exploit it, to gain some kind of edge. Whatever had happened to Jean, she was not the same.
The spinning motion and startlingly thin air made her dizzy, and still she reached with her mind, hoping against every doubt her head gave her that she could find her friend. Save her from whatever was ailing her. To take her home. Where she belonged.
As suddenly as the plane had moved, it stopped. Storm watched with veiled eyes as the electronics of her controls blacked out. The jet dropped into a flat spin, heading toward the water below them.
The telepathic hold on her mind seemed to vanish. Without missing a beat, Storm raised her hands, palm side up, and called the winds to her command. Grunting with the force she needed to capture enough air about the jet, she felt her eyes turn to that unmistakable white, her arms shaking with the force of her powers.
You have to let go, a soft, familiar voice said soothingly in her mind. Let it go, Storm. Save them.
Gasping with the effort, Storm raised her hands a little higher, gritting her teeth as she whipped the gathering winds around them in an attempt to slow their descent. The flame surrounding the plane had not burned them and it faltered in the battle with Storm’s powers. Concentrating with everything in her body, Storm released the desperation and hope within her, the wind howled in response.
Slowly, the jet leveled off with the help of lifting winds. Storm could not release the winds until she had the controls again. She screamed into the link that had reestablished in her mind for Jean’s help.
Orange flame died around them. The electronics blinked to life and the unmanned controls shook before her. Storm reigned in her emotions, pushing the winds back to their original course and gripping the steering column.
Her entire body shook with fatigue. Checking their altitude and heading, she dropped the jet into a hover before she turned to look at her teammates.
Three pairs of eyes gazed back at her, as though shocked to the core. Storm managed a shrug.
“I do not know what is happening, so do not ask,” she replied evenly. “Is anyone hurt?”
“No,” Wolverine grumbled. “But I may be sick.”
A flash of blinding light filled the jet, making Storm close her eyes against it. In the seconds it lasted, she wondered if this was the end. Had Jean turned into some dark thing? Was her own mind turning against her in the wake of her apparent death? Was it all in Ororo’s head after all?
Behind her, there was a loud thud as the light vanished. A hiss, a crash, a loud, metallic pop echoed through the jet’s interior as they were blinded. And then the crumpling sound as though a body had hit the steel floor. Whipping around in her chair, eyes stinging as they adjusted to the shifts in light, she blinked, searching for the cause.
“Oh my stars and garters,” Henry breathed from his seat, using one of his signature phrases. “Jean.”
Storm’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes found the body of Jean only a meter behind her, sprawled on the floor as if she had been carelessly thrown onto the jet. Her uniform was torn to shreds, hair mangled and her eyes were closed.
But the soft rise and fall of her chest said she was breathing.
Slowly, each of the X-Men unbuckled their harnesses, standing to congregate around the prone form of their lost teammate. Beast approached cautiously, waving them all away. He kneeled at Jean’s head, long, clawed fingers checking her throat for a pulse.
The instant Henry’s flesh touched Jean’s, the lifeless woman’s eyes snapped open and she wreathed them both in flame. Storm felt Wolverine’s protective arms encircle her, shielding her from the fire as Beast cried out in pain.
“Help…me,” Jean’s soft voice pleaded with a hollow echo.
A sharp resonance of metal on metal rang through the room. Without looking, Storm knew that Colossus was transforming. She peered over the tight embrace of Wolverine’s arms in time to see their youngest member reach for the first aid kit.
He grasped a syringe and stepped directly into the fire. Not affected by the scalding heat, he pushed Beast out of the ring of fire, grasping Jean’s arm with his steel encased hand. Holding the limb, he jammed the needle into her arm and shoved the plunger down, filling her veins with some sort of sedative.
Jean screamed with fury, a terrifying, alien sound. And then all was quiet.
“Holy shit,” Wolverine breathed in the silence.
Storm stepped away from his embrace, rushing to check on Henry. He was burned, but insisted that it was not serious. Ordering Colossus to bandage him as best he could, she turned her attention back to Jean.
Wolverine was kneeling over her limp form. He touched her pale face gently, as a lover would, unchecked tears rolling down his cheeks. Storm’s heart went out to him. After all the progress he’d made toward acceptance, this had to happen. She was overjoyed that Jean was alive, though whatever she had mutated into was frightening.
“Logan?” she asked tentatively, taking a step to him.
He did not reply.
“Wolverine, put Jean into a chair until we can get back to the Professor. He’ll know what to do,” she ordered him softly.
The man effortlessly lifted Jean into his arms, gently placing her sedated form into the first available seat and strapping her in. His eyes stayed on the face he assumed he would never see again, looking for all the world as though he was lost in a sea of raging emotion.
Careful not to startle him, Storm moved to her pilot’s seat, asking that they all buckle up so they could head back to the mansion. Logan complied in a daze, taking his place in the co-pilot’s chair. He did not speak.
No one spoke. The long trip home was drenched in stunned silence. Storm tried to keep her mind on the journey, though her chest ached and her hands shook. One question bounced through her weary mind:
What will Scott say?
~@~
“Jean mutated a second time, almost ten months ago,” Henry explained as the entire compliment of mutants at the mansion gathered in the infirmary.
“Her telepathic powers were altered when she used Cerebro during Magneto’s attack on Liberty Island. For some reason, it tapped into an unused portion of Jean’s psyche and expanded it. Her telepathic power cannot be charted,” the furry doctor pointed to the large screen on the wall.
“This is Jean’s genetic coding and brain waves roughly a month before her use of Cerebro,” he pushed a button, placing a new set of medical scans beside the first. “These are test results from one hour ago.”
The assembled group blinked in confusion. Jean’s higher brain functions were literally off the charts, and her genetic code was significantly altered. Ororo looked from Henry to the Professor.
“Her powers began to surface in the month between Liberty Island and Stryker’s attack, culminating when she used everything in her to save the jet and everyone on it. Though she was willing to die, her body activated the mutation and moved to protect her,” Henry finished in his placid manner.
“Is she rejecting the mutation?” Ororo asked quietly.
Henry shook his head. “No. However, the new mutation also affected several other areas of her brain, releasing her more primitive instincts. When the Jean we all know and love became frightened of her increased power, her mind moved to protect her, just as her body had mutated to save her life. She developed something similar to a dual personality.”
“What Henry is trying to say is that Jean is still Jean, but now the darker side of her personality has been given it’s own sentience. The two sides are fighting for control now, which is why Jean attacked the jet,” Charles surmised, a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Is there anything you can do to help her, Professor?” Scott questioned, worry in his voice.
Storm reached over the table and grasped his hand, willing some of her waning strength into him. Cyclops gave her a half-smile in return, squeezing her hand gently. He had still not overcome the shock of seeing his fiancée be carried out of the jet hours ago. Ororo had the feeling none of them would recover for quite some time. Losing a loved one was hard enough. Getting them back was an entirely different ball game.
“Fortunately, yes,” Charles said with a hint of a smile. “I can enter Jean’s mind while she is sedated and help her suppress her darker half.”
“Will that not simply delay the problem?” Ororo inquired.
“This “second personality” is really just the suppressed desires and primitive nature that could be found in all of us. Jean and I will simply be putting it back where it belongs,” the Professor assured her.
“So, she’ll be back to her normal self?” Logan spoke for the first time from his corner in the room.
“Yes, and no,” Henry chimed in. “Jean’s second mutation cannot be reversed. It is a natural step in her personal evolution. Her powers have increased and she will have to undergo rigorous training to gain a handle on them.”
“Her personality should return to what it was before, though the added stress of her near-death experience and eight months alone will take time to overcome,” Charles paused, looking far away for a moment. “Yes, our Jean has returned to us.”
The younger generation had remained quiet on their side of the table, Rogue crying silently into her hands. Ororo assumed it was the relief of having her friend returned. Bobby slowly raised his head.
“Why was she gone so long? Why didn’t she send out a message sooner?”
“She did,” Ororo said flatly. “But the Professor, Scott, Henry and I all assumed it was only a subconscious hope and not an actual plea. Somehow, Jean managed to override both the Professor and myself last night. The message was not clear, but the urge to return to Alkali Lake was undeniable.”
She felt Logan’s eyes on her immediately. Ororo could feel the heat of his quiet anger. In their time together, she had not once mentioned her suspicions to him. No doubt he felt betrayed that she had kept this to herself. That was a problem for another day.
“For now, I want you all to get some sleep. Jean will be kept under close watch for the next several hours while I rest. Once I am ready, I will begin the process of putting her new friend back in place,” Charles looked around the room in that fatherly manner he reserved for the most private of moments among his pupils. “There is nothing to be done here and now.”
Recognizing a dismissal, the group began to stand, talking quietly amongst themselves. Storm, itching to get out of her leather uniform and slip into bed, handed Scott over to the Professor, trailing along behind the younger adults.
Dragging her feet a little, she caught Colossus’ eye and smiled at him. He had done well. Sedating Jean and saving Henry from worse injury without pause. Storm was suddenly very sure he would make an invaluable member of their team.
“’Ro?”
Logan’s low growl made her turn, slowing her already languid pace. When he caught up with her, she gave an inward sigh. He was going to let loose all of his inner rage on her. There was no stopping it; she would just have to gather whatever strength she had left and face him.
“Ya look like shit, darlin’,” he said, studying her face.
Giving him a weak smile, Ororo nodded. “I should not have used so much power in the jet. I feel as though I will fall over,” she admitted.
Something about Logan always managed to loosen her tongue. It was virtually impossible to lie when he put his full attention on her. She turned to continue to her rooms when he caught her arm.
“You won’t make it to your room alone, come on,” he said softly, taking her arm and wrapping it around his broad waist while holding her close with one arm.
Allowing herself to give in to her fatigue now that they were alone, Ororo leaned heavily on him, her weak body slumping a little in his arms.
“How do ya manage to hold on like you do?” Logan whispered, helping her up the stairs.
“Tenacity,” Ororo replied sleepily. She would be lucky to not simply fall asleep in his safe embrace.
Logan chuckled a little under his breath. “I can understand that one. Come on, only a few steps left, then we’re on the homestretch.”
Her strength was all but gone by the time they reached the top of the stairs. With a sigh, her steps faltered, weak knees nearly sending her to the carpeted floor. Not missing a beat, Logan’s arms shifted as he bent to collect her neatly into his chest.
Half asleep already, she folded into his embrace, trembling in his arms. Such strength. She marveled at it. He carried her as though she weighed nothing more than a stack of papers. Ororo stared up into his bearded face, eyes heavy lidded.
It is then that she realized what Jean’s return meant. Logan. Scott. The Professor. The children. They would soon have someone else to lean on. Her cool composure flinched for a moment.
A sniff. Logan was testing the air, as he always did. His gaze swung from the hallway to her face and she could feel his pace increase a bit. He could tell she was on the brink.
“Hang on, darlin’. We’re almost there. Don’t lose it here,” he whispered, rushing her passed Rogue’s room.
Instead of trotting further down the hall to her bedroom, which was across from Scott’s, Logan turned sharply, opening the door to his bedroom and carrying her into the silent room. She could feel the temperature of the room drop and she knew instantly that she was the cause.
Not able to see where they are going, she felt Logan sit, probably on his bed. Shaking with restraint, Ororo looked up into his eyes, sensing an understanding in his dark gaze.
“I normally don’t take well to cryin’ but you look ready to burst. Just let it go,” his voice the gentlest she had ever heard it.
She shook her head, knowing she was losing her battle for control.
“I can’t,” she choked out, clutching at the leather of his uniform.
“Why? Because of your powers?” he paused. “Jean is alive, ‘Ro. Life’s up and dropped us all on our asses again. You’ve held it together too long as it is.”
That’s not it, she screamed in her mind. No one needs me again.
“Let it rain,” Logan’s gruff voice was soothing in an odd sort of way. “Just let it rain.”
A sob finally escaped her control. With a half-sigh, half-sob of relief, she relaxed into his embrace, releasing the fury of her mutant’s gift. Logan’s warm arms came up to wrap around her, holding her shaking form to his chest, shushing her as she cried into the now broken silence of his room. She heard the wind outside howl, mingled with the steady clatter of raindrops on the roof as the world shared her pain and wept for her.
Chapter Six: Irrational by Gaineewop
Chapter Six: Irrational
He did not bother trying to sleep until Ororo had drifted off. Her wracking sobs had eventually slowed to quiet cries and then finally, silently shaking shoulders. He had lain with her on his bed, giving her a shoulder to cry on, assuring her that she was not alone, not this time. He knew she never cried from their frequent conversations over the last weeks and for that reason alone, he weathered her storm without complaint.
Once her breathing had slowed to the unmistakable rhythm of deep slumber, he’d moved to the window. The sky gradually cleared, revealing the aftermath of Storm’s emotional release in the soft light of dusk.
All in all, it wasn’t bad. They would definitely need a new picnic table and the volleyball court was out of commission for a while, but other than well-watered grass, that was the extent of it. A small price to pay for her sanity, he thought. Someone that buttoned up was likely to explode sooner or later.
After the description One-Eye had given him about Ororo’s last outburst, he took in the sopping wet earth and minimal destruction with an inward shrug. No one kept their cool like ‘Ro did. He was glad she had let go for a while, let herself feel something as a human or mutant should.
Closing the curtains against the afternoon light, Logan covered Ororo with a blanket after removing her boots. She could sleep on his bed, but there was no way he was taking her uniform off. There were limits to his depravity.
Thinking on it, he gently rolled her over, unclasping the cloak she wore and folding it over the bedpost. At least she would be a little more comfortable this way.
He shrugged out of his uniform, pulling on a pair of sweats and unrolling the sleeping bag he kept in his closet. Choosing a spot at a safe distance from his teammate, Logan crawled into the soft material of his sleeping bag and lay back.
Jean.
Alive. Home. In two pieces.
The Professor could fix the problem; try to reign in the darkness Jean now held within her. She would need Scott more than ever. Boy Scout Summers was exactly the type of man to help Jean pull away from darkness. Jean had made her choice that night they had shared a camp with Magneto and Mystique. Now, it was up to him to take that last step.
He would leave her alone. They would be teammates, maybe even friends one day, but there was no reason for him to chase after her. Not in the wake of all that had happened. In his heart, there would always be a place for Jean. She had woken a part of him he had not known existed, and with Rogue had brought him back into a world of people and laughter. Yeah, he could step aside.
Choices.
Logan’s gaze drifted from the ceiling to the sleeping Ororo. She had turned so that she was facing him, her brow finally relaxed though her face was flushed after so much crying. He felt for her. The woman had worked patiently with everyone at the mansion, attempting to retain everyone’s sanity without a thought to her own grief. All of her hard work had been tossed out the window the moment Jean reappeared.
It was no wonder she had cried herself to sleep. The return of her friend, the realization that her life in the past months had been for nothing…it would be enough to destroy anyone’s emotional armor.
Looking back to the ceiling, Logan admitted that her work on him would not be so easily cast aside. Her continuing lectures about choices had definitely stuck with him. For the first time in sixteen years, he could see a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Someday, he’d reach that light, with the help of those around him.
You’re gettin’ sappier every day in this house, Logan thought with a nasty smirk to the ceiling.
Shrugging away his thoughts of utter self-loathing, he turned on his side to face away from Ororo, painfully aware that his room was filled with the scent of coming rain.
~@~
Snikt!
He awoke to darkness, sweating, his heart hammering against his chest. What had he been dreaming of? Whatever it had been, his claws were extended and to his horror, someone was kneeling over him.
“Wha…?”
“Shh,” came a familiar voice in the darkness. “It is all right. It was just a nightmare.”
‘Ro.
Swallowing hard, he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, trying to focus through the manic beat of his heart. He could see the outline of snowy white hair. Not wanting to move, in case the most feared scenario was about to slap him in the face, he concentrated on focusing his eyes.
“You did not hurt me, Logan. You turned away before they extended,” she whispered, seemingly reading his mind.
“Good,” he grunted, retracting his claws with a shudder. The memory of Rogue’s horrified face nearly a year ago had never quite left him. He’d have destroyed Ororo’s trust and his shaken faith in himself if he mauled her in sleep.
A warm hand touched his arm. He wanted to jerk away from the invasion of his privacy bubble, but he inhaled deeply, that earthy smell of fresh rain washing over him like a drug. It was the smell, he concluded. She reminded him of something wild, of freedom. Even when trapped indoors, her scent was a comfort.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Ororo’s voice had dropped into the soothing tone she often used with the students.
“Not really,” Logan grumbled. “Did I say anything?”
Eyes focused now, he watched the outline of her face shake from side to side.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I was not afraid, not for a moment,” she countered, squeezing his forearm.
A little surprised, he turned his head to look at her fully, his heart finally managing to slow down, though sweat still soaked his skin. He did not remember his nightmare, only the fear, protectiveness, and a scream tearing from his throat.
“You are quite soaked,” his roommate said suddenly. “You should change.”
Before he could tell her to stop, Ororo was on her feet, taking her warmth from his side, dusting the room further with that heady scent. He heard her rustling around in his chest of drawers, the gentle movements of her body as she rummaged through his….hey!
“Talk about an invasion of privacy, ‘Ro,” he said as he sat up, peeling his wet shirt off.
“I am only trying to be helpful, Logan.”
“Right,” he grumbled.
The drawer slid shut and he watched the outline of her body move back toward him. She was still wearing her uniform and the soft leather squeaked loudly in his sensitive ears. More rustling filled the room as Ororo knelt beside him, shifting the sleeping bag. He watched her carefully, the adrenaline in his system still making him a little skittish.
She moved slowly, as though he were a frightened animal. Her eyes were cast to the floor in submission, her hands palm out, showing no aggression. Surprised by her simple actions, which spoke volumes to the animal within, he took the shirt and pulled it over his head.
Irritated when she kept her eyes down, Logan growled.
“I’m not an animal, Storm. You don’t have to submit like that, for fuck’s sake.”
“Who said anything about submission?” she shot back.
“You are, by keeping your eyes down and not moving faster than a goddamn snail.”
He heard her sigh, but her face did not turn up to meet his. “Logan…”
“What?” he snapped, much harsher than he had intended.
Her head snapped up, a scowl forming on her lips.
“Never you mind. Get some sleep,” she responded, getting quickly to her feet.
Logan barely had time to process that they had just had some sort of argument before he was alone, the door slamming behind Storm hard enough to hurt his ears. He snarled at the door as though it had been the cause of the rift between them and threw his blankets back.
Starting for the door, he decided on a beer before he tried to sleep again. He stepped from the room, catching the scent of rain on the air. Turning as though moved by an invisible puppeteer, he caught sight of Ororo at the entrance to her bedroom.
He stopped in his tracks, watching her closely. The woman stared at him coolly, as though nothing could touch her. He knew better. Remembering the way she had trembled in his arms, her tears sliding down the leather of his uniform, rain falling outside as she released. He knew.
As though sensing his train of thought, she lifted her chin in defiance. His heart skipped a beat, the challenge evident in her eyes. Claws ached to be unleashed, to answer her with a challenge of his own.
Clenching his fists, newfound light warring with the darkness of his soul, he froze completely, prepared to pounce on her, to show her who was in control.
Thunder boomed about the mansion, rattling the windows. Logan started violently, noting that Storm’s eyes had turned to the telltale milky white that announced the use of her mutation. Raw power crackled in the hallway, the electric static making his hair stand on end.
Logan turned from her as the thunder grumbled its retreat. He marched down the stairs, the image of her challenging stance, the power she radiated burning into his memories. Grumbling all the way to the kitchen, he let loose a feral growl, his human side turning circles in his head as if trying to understand the nature of this baser rage.
Slamming the refrigerator open, he sniffed the air, surprised to find he was not alone. The door nearly broke off its hinges as he closed it, revealing a startled Cyclops at the kitchen table, an eyebrow raised over the rim of his ruby-lenses.
“Rough night?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Nice,” the younger man commented. “Will you not destroy property if I tell you where Storm hid the beer?”
He wanted, very badly, to growl at the sound of her name. But the offer of beer was Logan’s weak spot. He gave Cyclops a curt nod.
“In the small cupboard, to the left of the soda. It’s warm, but I think you’ll live,” Scott told him quickly, pointing.
Stalking to the cupboard, Wolverine swore a blue streak. Muttering things that would have made little miss “I’m better than you” blush like a virgin. He rifled through the cupboard, discovering a six-pack buried in the dark space. She had remembered his favorite brand.
Damn her.
He tore off the cap, flicking it across the kitchen. A temper tantrum “ he even had to admit that it was an apt term “ in front of a man he loathed was ridiculous. He simply could not control it. Something in the way she had submitted, then challenged rubbed him the wrong way.
“What happened?” Scott asked, watching him from the table.
Knowing that the knowledge of the beer hideout came with the stipulation that he at least attempt to talk about it, Logan shrugged, taking another long pull from his beer as he searched for a cigar.
Scott whistled to get his attention, then tossed a cigar, followed by a lighter. Logan caught both neatly, raising a brow of his own at the second gesture of companionship. Obviously, they were losing it when Jean being alive, Storm’s misadventure in Chicago, and the world generally being in hell.
“You left it in the sitting room. I caught Kitty eyeing it,” he said by way of explanation.
Feeling the urge to prowl the room like a caged beast, Logan forced himself to sit at the table across from Cykie, biting down the urge to snarl. He had to accept a few things about his life here at Xavier’s. One of them was the “talk” every few weeks when he was spitting angry for no apparent reason.
When the man across from him did not speak, Logan looked up.
“Ever have one of those days? When everything is just fucked and everybody sucks?”
Scot pointed at him. “Isn’t that the lyric to some song Peter’s into?”
Grunting his answer, Logan shook his head, staring at his beer for a moment.
“Something happen with Rogue?” Scott pressed.
“Nah. The kid’s staying out of the way,” Logan replied.
“Still angry with her about the whole Bobby-in-her-bed thing?”
“It’s not about fuckin’ Rogue, all right?”
“All right,” he held his hands up in defense. “Storm then?”
A growl did escape his lips when Scott mentioned her name this time. The red-eyed man smirked. Logan wondered if he could go to prison for gutting the smug bastard with the wooden spoon from the jar on the counter. He did not want to talk about her. Not until he figured out what had him so riled up and the moment he did figure it out, he’d confide in someone he respected more than the geek across from him.
“Come on, man. She’s the only on at this school you’re relatively civil to on a regular basis. Besides Rogue that is. Obvious guess.”
Changing the subject seemed like a really good idea at that particular moment, so Logan looked up again.
“How’s Jeanie?”
Cyclops clamped his mouth shut. He leaned back against the back of the booth and crossed his arms, sighing as though he’d been derailed from something very important. It was going to be a touchy subject until the Jean they had lost was fully restored to them.
“No change yet, but the Professor is confident.”
“Good.”
Silence fell between them. Logan wanted, desperately, to run away. Hit something. Scream. Anything that would bring order to his chaotic thoughts. He found himself wondering if he could locate Magneto rather quickly. Now that was a fight worth getting into.
As he fantasized about various ways to slice and dice a Magneto, Scott stood suddenly, nodding his head toward the doorway of the kitchen.
“I need to take my mind off things. Lets go beat the hell out of each other and call it training.”
Suddenly, Logan almost liked their cycloptic leader. He all but jumped from the booth, hands clenching into fists again. A nice fight would just about do it for him. Against someone he truly did not care for? Even better.
“You’re on, bub.”
~@~
Around noon, Logan came down the stairs, freshly showered and in a much better mood. He had actually thanked his sparring partner for the workout. Cyclops’ mood had improved as well. While he bore a few bruises from the enthusiastic “training session”, he had a slight bounce in his step.
It would never cease to amaze that all men seemed to need a good fight every now and again. Logan pinched his cigar between his teeth as he entered the living room, coming up on Peter and Bobby lounging together, having lunch.
“Hey,” Logan greeted, leaning in the doorway.
Both young men turned to greet him. They were watching some movie about a nuclear threat. Not at all interested, Logan watched for a few moments. His ears pricked up when he noted the rest of the mansion was nearly silent. Cykie had gone outside to assess Storm’s damage from the previous day and the Professor was with Beast, working on Jean.
That left three people missing. Rogue, Kitty, and Storm. Usually the younger mutants were rushing about the mansion causing no small amount of ruckus. The silence was not a normal effect of living with teenage girls.
“Where are the girls?” Logan asked the enthralled boys as fighter jets zoomed across the screen.
“Oh, uh, Storm took them out. Said something about a gift for Miss Grey,” Bobby supplied quickly, not taking his eyes from the movie.
“Out? When?”
“Couple of hours ago. From the way they were talking, they’ll be gone until dinner at least.”
Logan frowned. It was not common for Ororo to leave the mansion with two young mutants to go “shopping”. She preferred to remain behind when she could, looking after things. She was the mother of the entire operation, one who had a picture beside overprotection’s definition.
“Miss Munroe did not look to be in a pleasant mood, but the girls were adamant. She could not refuse them,” Peter chimed in with his somber voice.
“Yeah. If they aren’t back soon, we’ll call and see what they’re up to,” he replied, pushing off of the doorway and taking the cigar from his lips.
Storm was definitely upset with him. Still. He couldn’t rightly blame her. The altercation the previous evening had been irrational and uncalled for. He held her when she cried, encouraged her to let go, and then…
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, stepping into the hidden elevator and pushing the button that would take him to the lower levels. While Cykie was busy, he would check in on Jean and the other two. He felt a little strange doing “rounds” like this, but old habits died hard. All adults at the mansion did periodic checks of all occupants. A missing mutant was never a good thing.
When the elevator doors hissed open, Logan snuffed the glowing tip of his cigar on his palm, wincing against the pain. He’d forgotten to leave the damn thing upstairs. While Chuck never mentioned his smoking in any other room, sans Cerebro, he thought it best to leave the habit at the elevator.
Sniffing the air, he detected the familiar scents of leather and cleansers from the infirmary door, mingled with the peppermint smell that was Jean’s. There were no voices that his acute hearing could pick up, which meant the Professor was locked into a mental link with Jean.
Pushing the door open silently, Logan nodded to Beast, not bothering to speak. Instead, he walked to the bedside, standing next to the blue, furry doctor. Chuck’s wheelchair was positioned at the head of Jean’s bed, his eyes closed and hands grazing each of her temples.
Her lovely face was contorted with pain, her breathing erratic. Previously pale skin was now the color of chalk, her lips nearly blue. Alarmed, he looked to Henry, only to receive a silent shrug. He didn’t have a damn clue either.
Come on, Jeanie, he thought gruffly.
A soft sigh broke his thoughts as he turned to the source. Charles looked exhausted as he blinked, focusing on the two men nearby. Jeanie’s face relaxed slowly, until it looked as though she were sleeping soundly.
“Any luck?” Henry asked quietly.
“Some,” Xavier nodded. “Jean is more receptive to my intrusions, but the alter ego is fighting much more viciously. It may be several days before Jean can wake without fear.”
“Jesus,” Logan breathed, shaking his head.
“It is progress, Logan. The mind is a fragile place, as I have told you on several occasions,” the Professor told him soothingly.
“I know, it’s just…this is even worse than when we thought she was dead.”
“The Phoenix is not going to give up, even in the face of her dark side.”
Henry and Logan looked to one another and then to Charles, a matching look of question in their eyes.
“Who is the Phoenix?”
Charles chuckled at Henry’s question. “It is the codename Jean has adopted within her mind. Her name for herself.”
“Ah. A phoenix, of course, dies only to rise from the ashes,” Henry mused.
Logan snorted. “Fits, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Xavier agreed. “I must rest now. I trust everything upstairs is running smoothly?”
Clearing his throat under the telepath’s penetrating stare, Logan nodded.
“Good. Please relay my progress to Scott while I rest and I will join you all for dinner,” the older man moved the controls of his wheelchair, heading for the door.
“I will,” Logan assured him as he took his leave.
When their leader had gone, Beast set to checking on Jean. Logan hung back, watching the red-haired woman sleep. She was beautiful in a tragic sort of way. She seemed to have aged a great deal in the eight months she had been presumed dead. He sighed sadly, noting that Beast was staring at him.
“I just wanted to be sure,” Logan explained roughly.
“Of what?” the blue mutant asked carefully.
Logan looked up at him, smirking. “That the game was over.”
As he looked back to Jean’s beautiful face, he knew it was true. There was a steady pull of his heart when he looked at her, but none of the tingling sensations that had begun his infatuation. Something in him had changed when he realized her choice of Scott had been real. She did not want him. Period. End of story.
Time to move on.
Kissing her hand, Logan placed it back on the bed gently. Not bothering to say goodbye to Beast, he left the infirmary. The moment Jean awoke without her alter ego, she would know he had made a choice as well. She wouldn’t have to worry about him any longer.
Chapter Seven: Why by Gaineewop
Chapter Seven: Why
Ororo stepped out of the shoe store she had allowed herself to become lost in and searched for her young companions. They had agreed to meet her outside of the music store, which happened to be across from Ororo’s favorite place to load up on shoes.
She had allowed herself that one feminine vice. Clothing and shoes. Rogue and Kitty seemed amused by this previously secret knowledge and had taken to advising their guardian on the latest fashions. Ororo did approve of a few choices they had thrust upon her, noting they had taken her personal taste into consideration.
She did, after all, wear quite a bit of blue and white.
Rogue waved to her from the music store, pulling Kitty away from a rather large young man whom did not appear to have true love on his mind. Sighing at the antics of teenagers, Storm beckoned the girls to her, smiling a little as they attempted to juggle their many shopping bags in their arms.
Running away from Logan had not been a very adult decision, but the urge to flee had been too strong to deny. Ororo had woken Kitty and Rogue, tempting them to give her an excuse to leave the mansion with the promise of a shopping trip. They did, in fact, pick up a few things for Jean as a “welcome home” gift, but the majority of the trip had been in the pursuit of feminine things for the three mutant women present.
Putting an arm around Rogue, whom never shied from physical affection when her flesh was covered, Ororo listened to the girls chatter on about the new music disks they had purchased, and the teasing Kitty received about her penchant for large-biceped beaus.
They settled for lunch in one of Ororo’s favorite cafés. Ordering the typical female entrées of salads and soups, Storm continued to listen as the girls gushed all over one another, an inward sigh of relief resonating within her.
From the very moment Rogue had placed her hand in Storm’s that fateful day in the Canadian wilderness, Ororo had a deep-seated need to mother the girl. Her mutation had driven her from the only home she had ever had into a life she never asked for. She would be without direct human contact for the remainder of her life, and yet she held no bitterness or self-loathing within her.
Thriving in Xavier’s haven, Rogue had gained a family unlike any other. Brothers in Scott, Peter and even Henry; sisters in Kitty, Jubilee, and Ororo, and a father in Charles. Her relationship with Logan had it’s own category. He was brother, best friend, cousin, uncle and anything she needed at the time. Though she seemed to have deep feelings for young Mr. Drake, there was no doubt in Ororo’s mind that Logan would ever be closer to her than anyone else and vice versa.
It was the reason Ororo found herself touching Rogue as often as possible. Warm embraces, threading their arms as they walked, maternal kisses to the girl’s hair. She wanted Rogue to have something to hold on to, even if she would never again know the comfort of another’s flesh on hers.
Kitty was a different sort, a perfect companion to Rogue. Kitty was vibrant, a bit silly at times, but with an inner wisdom that had the benefit of innocence. Her family had loved her, no matter her mutation. They had sent to her Xavier’s for protection and training. Now, she was moving into the adult world as an educated and lovely young woman.
Before Rogue’s arrival, Kitty had been much like Storm, reserved, quiet, and a bit reclusive. Rogue had brought Kitty out of her shell and in return, Kitty gave Rogue all the affection and teenage silliness she could handle.
Spending time alone with the two girls made Ororo feel ten years younger. Their enthusiasm, their lust for life was contagious.
As they ate their lunch, Storm battled with her thoughts of Logan. Rogue seemed to understand that something was bothering their former professor, but she did not mention it. She carried on with Kitty, filling the air with friendly chatter. If Ororo whisked her wayward thoughts aside, she could almost pretend that she was merely out for a day of fun with her nieces, without fear and worry.
“Oh! Jubi called last night,” she heard Kitty say. “She’s coming back to the school in July. Her parents want to go to Japan on vacation, but she’d rather come here.”
Rogue squealed girlishly right along with Kitty. The trio would be reunited. Things would be interesting with the three girls and two boys alone in the mansion. They would have to watch them carefully.
I’m not an animal.
Gritting her teeth at the memory of Logan’s voice, Ororo nodded to whatever Rogue had asked of her. She chewed on a bite of her salad, trying to not remember Logan’s panicked cries in his sleep.
The call of her name.
Shuddering, she turned her eyes to the large windows beside them, trying to quiet her mind so as to not ruin the lovely weather.
She had woken to Logan’s thrashing. At first unsure of where she was, she had been frightened, until she remembered Logan’s strong embrace, the urging to let it rain. She had jumped off the bed and hurried to where he lay, calling to him, hoping to chase his nightmare away.
When she was beside him, she heard a low growl from his throat. His rumbling voice suddenly formed words.
“No…come back…dark…‘Ro…don’t leave me here...Not ‘Ro. Don’t take ‘Ro.”
His claws had extended shortly after that, the sound wrenching him from his dreams. Startled that he had been having a nightmare about her, calling for whomever was trying to harm her to stop…telling her to not leave him behind, she had shifted into her teacher’s mode to handle his dream.
But the instant she turned from his chest of drawers, catching sight of his bare chest, the pain in his eyes, the realization that he had been worried for her, reaching for her, hit her with the force of a ton of bricks.
And that was why she could not raise her eyes to his, why she could barely move.
Unable to articulate this, the situation had quickly spiraled out of her control. With everything happening, Jean, Scott, the students…their emotions were too close to the surface. Defenses were up.
Watching him stare at her in that hallway, the feral look in his eyes when she challenged him had been both strangely fascinating and a little frightening. He had allowed her to lose control with him, but she had not returned the favor. She wanted to. She wanted him to lose himself with her, to feel safe enough to let go.
Let it rain.
A lump formed in her throat, recalling that soft tone, the urging to release. She swallowed it down, trying to force herself to remember that she was angry with him. Anger was better than pity or fear. She did not want to pity him. He was an equal, her teammate, and her friend. He deserved better.
“Miss Munroe, you listenin’?” Rogue’s voice broke into her thoughts, making Ororo turn with an apologetic smile.
“I am sorry, Rogue, what did you say?”
Rogue gave her a look that clearly said she was in for a long night of prodding later before she replied.
“Ah think we should get the boys somethin’. Yah know, just to let ‘em know we didn’t forget about ‘em in the shoppin’ craze,” she repeated.
“I like that idea, Marie,” Kitty chimed in, reaching for her pocketbook. “I’ve got a twenty left. You?”
The girls chattered on about their savings, trying to quickly budget a way to get every male a token of affection with thirty-one dollars. Touched by their thoughtfulness, Ororo reached over the table and covered both of their hands with hers.
“Because you two have been very good at keeping up with chores, I will pay for whatever you want to get the men. Just this once,” she said, a soft smile on her lips.
Rogue and Kitty jumped up as one to kiss Ororo’s cheeks. Rogue placed her gloved hand between their flesh so that she would not harm the elder woman, which made Ororo chuckle. The sentiment was the same, gloves or no.
Kitty and Rogue picked up the light check for their lunch with their savings, refusing to allow Ororo to do so. The girls headed back into the mall. It did not take long to find things for the men. As women, they had the tendency to remember bits of conversations, and it was those nuggets of information that lead to their handful of purchases.
A book the Professor had mentioned wanting, a bottle of wine for Henry, a video game for Bobby, a disk of Russian opera for Peter, and an enormous digest of Scott’s beloved comic book they found on sale.
For Logan, Rogue insisted on a silver cigar case at a modest price. Ororo agreed that it was a thoughtful gift, as they had been utterly stumped on the subject for the better part of half an hour. Deciding to add a few cigars to the gift, they trooped into the tobacco shop, arms laden with so many bags Ororo was beginning to wonder how they would get it all home.
The girls wandered around the aromatic shop, sniffing cigar after cigar until they came up with three different choices. Unable to choose between them, Ororo collected the younger girl’s choices and with hers, placed them on the counter, sliding her credit card to the clerk.
She had saved months of her teaching salary for a “rainy day” and this qualified. Money meant nothing to her “ she had grown up virtually penniless “ which led to a fair amount in her bank account, just in case. She slipped the purchased cigars into a bag and ushered the girls from the shop.
Though she did not want to contemplate why, the smell of cigar smoke reminded her of Logan and that made her heart skip a beat. The thought of him enjoying the cigar she had purchased, which had an earthy scent to it, dizzied her.
Angry with herself, she headed to the car they had abandoned in the parking lot hours ago, taking her keys from her pocket. She wanted to get home, give the men their trinkets and then take a long bath in the solitude of her bedroom. Thoughts of Logan would have to wait until she had more control over her emotions.
Just as she reached the sleek white sports car Charles had given her as a gift years ago, Ororo popped the trunk open with the tiny remote on her key chain, turning to speak to the girls.
They had stopped several meters behind her, frozen in their tracks, a look of horror on their faces. Her heart stopped in her chest, the shopping bags falling from her hands, the sound of glass breaking at her feet seemed to echo.
“Marie? Kitty?”
Her shout fell upon deaf ears. Ororo took off at a run, unable to see what had frightened her companions so. The maternal need to protect overrode any other emotion as she zigzagged her way through the crowded parking lot.
Before she could reach them, a group of young men approached. Fear turning to rage, Ororo noted that the ringleader bore a shirt with a blood red logo.
Death to Mutants.
Swallowing a cry of fathomless ire, Ororo flung herself between her young charges and the advancing boys. Breathing hard, she looked into the leader’s face, each of her hands grasping the wrist of the girls, pushing them behind her.
“Is there a problem here?” she questioned evenly, blood thudding in her veins.
“Yeah,” the boy replied harshly. “These two are mutants.”
“That is a problem? Did they attempt to harm you?” Ororo played for time, trying to think of a way out of this mess, chiding herself for not keeping a closer eye on the girls.
“Fuck yeah, it is. Move out of the way so we can take care of these freaks, lady,” the words were met with appreciative shouts from the surrounding boys.
Not wanting to contemplate what he meant by that statement, Ororo decided her only way out of this mess was a display of power. Mentally cringing from the lecture she was sure to receive, Storm allowed her rage to tap into her mutation, her eyes stinging as they changed from blue to solid white.
“Freaks, are we?” she said in a clipped tone, willing the skies to blacken above them. “No matter your reasons, I will not allow harm to come to these girls.”
“She’s one of them!” a voice came from the rear of the crowd.
“I am. And I think you should leave here, forget any of this happened before I get very angry.”
Driving her point home, Storm cued a massive clap of thunder, the winds howling around them.
Fingernails bit into her hands, the girls drew closer to her, as though attempting to stand up for themselves. She could not blame them for their fear. Unlike Ororo or Logan or any of the others, the girls’ powers were benign. Should they need to defend themselves, they would have to resort to hand-to-hand combat. Neither of them had been trained properly against a group that was so much larger and vicious.
“You won’t hurt us,” the lead boy sneered.
Storm tilted her head. “Try me,” she nearly growled.
Slowly, the would-be assailants backed away, glaring daggers at Storm. She did not relent. Once they were a safe distance from them, Storm dropped a bolt of lightning to the pavement between them.
“GO!” she screamed to the girls behind her.
In the confusion, the three mutants ran for the car, cloaked by the acrid smoke the lightning had provided them. Rogue scooped up their packages from the black top before jumping into the convertible. Kitty leaped into the backseat as Storm nearly flew into the driver’s seat, pushing the key into the ignition.
The car roared to life as the smoke cleared. Their attackers looked around in confusion, but it was too late. Storm rammed the gearshift into reverse and tore out of the parking lot. Only when they were on the highway, did Storm look back. Breathing a sigh of relief that the gang had not pursued, she turned to the girls.
“Are you all right?”
“Ah’m fine,” Rogue replied from the passenger seat, turning to look at Kitty.
“Not hurt,” the other girl said softly. “I’m sorry Miss Munroe. I was talking and not paying attention. They saw me phase through a car.”
Sighing, Ororo looked in the rearview mirror at the girl. “That was careless, Kitty, but it happens. I am merely relieved we were not injured and that I was not forced to hurt one of the boys.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ororo saw Rogue reach back to take Kitty’s hand. The girls held on tightly for a moment, as though comforting one another.
“They do not know any better, my girls,” Ororo said quietly. “They fear us and that fear turns to hatred. We should not blame them, darlings.”
Rogue’s free hand grasped Ororo’s shoulder. “We know.”
They drove back to the mansion in silence after that, each of them mulling over the experience. With an inward start, Ororo realized that during the encounter, her deepest wish was that Logan had been there to protect them.
~@~
It was not surprising that there was a welcoming party awaiting them as they pulled into the driveway of the mansion.
Everyone they had left behind that morning, including the Professor, was crowded in the drive, matching looks of worry on their faces. Ororo cut the engine of her car in time for Scott to rush forward, wrenching her door open.
“Charles said his mental alarms went off about an hour ago. We were worried sick,” he said in one breath, dragging Ororo from the driver’s seat and into a bone-breaking hug.
“Rogue!” Ororo heard Bobby call out from behind Scott.
“Bobby!” the girl replied.
The door of the car shut, hinting that Rogue had gone flying into her boyfriend’s arms. When Scott released Ororo, he kissed her forehead gently before pulling away.
“We wanted to come to your aid, but Charles assured us you had all escaped unharmed,” Henry commented as he too embraced her.
“Yes, we were lucky. I had to frighten the boys a bit, but that was the extent,” Ororo returned his affectionate embrace quickly.
“Boys?” Charles asked as Ororo moved from Henry’s arms.
Ororo nodded, smiling at Bobby and Rogue, whom were still locked into a relieved embrace. She raised a brow when Peter reached into the convertible and lifted a shell shocked Kitty from the backseat. He spoke to her in a quiet tone until she responded, wrapping her arms about his neck.
“Unfortunately so. It was a group of teens looking for a fight,” Storm frowned.
Logan had not said a word.
Leaning against the brick wall of the garage, he stared at the group in complete silence. Storm looked to him quickly, turning her eyes away when she realized his gaze was fixed on her. She reached into the car, retrieving the fruits of the shopping trip. Rogue finally broke free of Bobby, rushing to Logan an instant later.
When Ororo looked back up, Logan’s face had relaxed into a mask of tender relief. He held the young girl tightly as the group moved inside.
Kitty began to chatter the instant they were in the living room, explaining the entire ordeal from the comfort of Peter’s lap. Knowing the young man was sensitive and serious, everyone had the good sense to not mention it. Kitty was susceptible to panic attacks. Anything that kept her calm after such an experience was welcome.
It took an hour of questioning before Charles and the other men were satisfied. By then, everyone was much calmer. Henry had prepared a light snack and cups of tea. Ororo idly wondered if he’d laced the tea with a sedative. She could not blame him if he had. It had been a trying two days to say the very least.
Once the shock had worn off, the girls proudly brought out their gifts to the men. It had been some time since they had all been in the same room for any length of time. When asked what they had done to receive gifts, Rogue had replied that they had been good boys and good boys deserved rewards now and then. Storm almost laughed at the expression on Logan’s face after that comment.
One by one, the gifts were opened, much to the delight of the shoppers. Unfortunately, Henry’s wine bottle had been broken when Ororo dropped the bags to rush to the rescue.
Heading off Kitty’s tears, Ororo promised to take the girls on a hunt for a replacement in a few days. Henry gave both young girls gentlemanly kisses to the backs of their hands as an acknowledgement to their thoughtfulness.
Ororo inquired after Jean as Charles held his new leather-bond volume of Shakespearean sonnets lovingly in his hands. He reported that he had made some progress, and that Jean was resting comfortably. A bit disappointed that Jean had not come back to them yet, she returned Charles’ understanding smile with a tightening of her lips.
Rogue reached for the bag of Logan’s cigars with a sly wink to Ororo. Deciding to stay put, as opposed to exiting quickly with a lame excuse, Storm folded her hands in her lap and leveled a steady gaze to Logan.
He looked confused for a moment in his corner when Rogue handed him the gift bag, giving him a quick kiss to his bearded cheek. Seemingly understanding that everyone wanted him to open it immediately, no matter what his personal feeling was, he gingerly reached into the bag.
“Nice,” he commented to Rogue around the cigar pinched between his teeth.
Holding up the sleek, silver cigar case, he gave the young girl a small smile as thanks, slipping the case into the pocket of his jeans.
“There’s more,” Kitty supplied tentatively.
Raising a brow at the girl, Logan pulled the cigar from his lips, handing it to Rogue. She took the cigar gingerly, holding it out in front of her and waving the smoke from her face. Logan rummaged around inside the bag for a moment before locating the three slender cigars.
Surprise written all over his face, he pulled the tools of his addiction out, holding each one up to his nose for a thorough sniff-inspection.
“These…these are good,” he commented at last.
From the selection, he held one up. “Kitty picked this one,” he said gruffly. The girl blushed prettily.
He pointed to the next. “This has Rogue all over it.” Marie beamed at him.
Ororo kept her eyes on him as he paused, taking the third in both hands. His dark eyes met hers as he looked up. That same feral look came over him, but still she kept her eyes even with his.
“Thanks, Storm,” he said simply.
She nodded a reply as he tucked his new cigars into his pocket, then took the still-burning one from Rogue.
Let it rain.
Ororo had to avert her eyes when the memory washed over her. Attempting to control her breathing, she touched Henry’s arm to get his attention, trying to focus on anything but Logan and his stare.
Hours later, Ororo dragged her shopping bags upstairs. Finally alone, she dropped the bags onto her bed and began to shuffle through them. Her new bathrobe was calling her name as she readied herself for a bath. The girls were still downstairs, watching a film they had purchased with Bobby, Peter, Henry and Scott.
Charles had retreated to his rooms some time ago, saying he wanted to read his new book for a while before heading to bed. He had to rest in preparation for another day of mental battle with Jean’s dark side.
Logan. Where had Logan run off to? Shaking her head to clear it of anything that resembled Logan, she finally found her new ice-blue robe and carried it into the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom.
Running bathwater, she poured a bit of her natural lavender bath oil into the warm water, hoping it would lull her to sleep. She lit candles around the bathroom before stepping out of her dirty clothes. Spotting a scorch mark on her white blouse, she tossed it into the garbage bin in her bedroom with a sigh. At least she had a replacement already.
She pulled her hair up as the bathtub filled, the sweet aroma of lavender spilling throughout the room. She inhaled deeply, trying to will the scent to ease her tense muscles. Looking at her reflection in the candlelight, she gently touched her neck, watching the play of shadows as the candle flames danced about her.
Studying her skin for signs of age or damage in the full-length mirror, Ororo spotted the thin red scar on her abdomen. Caressing the slender line with a fingertip, she felt the flashes of memory come over her. The sting of the bullet ripping through her skin, the overwhelming darkness, Logan’s face when she awoke.
I’ve got ya.
Shaking herself again, she took her fingers from the scar, meeting the reflection of her eyes in the mirror.
“What is wrong with you?” she whispered to herself, as though the mirror would reply.
Her quiet contemplation came to an end when a solid knock sounded on her bedroom door. Shutting off the water, Ororo reached for her blue bathrobe, pulling it over her nude body and tying the belt to keep it closed.
Once in the dark bedroom, she opened the door, mentally cursing in her native language when Logan’s dark eyes met hers.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, keeping her tone level.
“Yeah, thanks to you,” he said quietly, his hands shoved into his pockets.
She furrowed her brow at him. “I am not sure I understand.”
He pierced her with that feral gaze, his eyes never leaving her face, even in her state of serious undress.
“For protecting Rogue from that gutter trash. I don’t know if I could have stayed in control during that. Someone woulda wound up dead,” he explained.
“Oh,” Ororo nodded. “Of course I would protect Rogue. She is one of our own and I am quite fond of her.”
Logan’s nod was distracted, but he held her still with that stare, as though he were trying to push his way into her mind to dissect what she was thinking.
“Still, thanks,” he repeated, turning to go. “I’m glad you were there.”
Before he could step away from her, Ororo spoke. “I wished you had been there, Logan. I’ve never felt so vulnerable.”
He did not turn as Ororo gave herself a mental slap. She had not wished to reveal that, but his presence always did have a way of loosening her tongue.
“You’re not vulnerable, Storm. You cried. It happens. If Chuck had told me One-Eye was with Rogue when it all hit the fan, I would have torn outta here on that bike, needed or not,” he paused, turning to her at last. “I stayed behind because I knew you would take care of things.”
Surprised he had revealed so much to her, Ororo could only blink at him for a moment. Back was the candid way he used to speak to her, this was the Logan she remembered from long conversations in her classroom as he looked over her notes.
And then it clicked.
“That is why you do not leave the grounds, isn’t it?” she nearly whispered. “You do not trust anyone to protect Rogue, not after what happened to Jean.”
If she had surprised him, he covered it very well. “That’s not the only reason, but it has somethin’ to do with it, I reckon.”
Another pause seemed to stretch between them.
“And you’re wrong. I’ve always trusted you when it comes to her.”
Their eyes met again, this time filled with everything he had not said. The argument from the night before seemed to fall away, replaced by a need to protect him. She wanted, so badly, to chase all of his demons away, to help him find peace. But he blinked, and the moment was over.
“’Night, ‘Ro,” he grumbled, stepping away from her.
“Goodnight,” she replied, closing her bedroom door.
She leaned against the door once she was alone again, thinking over the brief exchange. With a pang of something she could not describe, another realization came over her.
For some reason, he did not trust anyone, except her, to protect Rogue without his aid. And he did not trust anyone, save himself, to protect Ororo.
Chapter Eight: Awakening by Gaineewop
Chapter Eight: Awakening
Logan awoke early, as was his custom. It had been a week since Ororo’s second adventure in the mall parking lot and Logan was still no closer to figuring things out than he had been that night outside her bedroom.
He was horrified when the Professor wheeled into the kitchen that afternoon, worry creasing his brow. The knowledge that something had happened to Kitty, Rogue, and Storm had his animalistic hackles up. Wanting to rush to their aid, he and Cyclops had stood, nearly in unison.
It was only when he realized that Storm was there that he pulled himself up short. Chuck assured them all that the girls were heading home, unharmed. Trusting Storm with the only family he had ever had, Logan trooped into the drive with the others and waited.
He disliked waiting. But in his new line of work, he seemed to be doing it more often than not. He should have known that morning, when the hair on the back of his neck pricked up at Bobby’s admission that the girls had left the mansion. He should have gone after them.
The cigar she had bought him remained un-smoked. It rested in a small drawer in his desk, still wrapped, as it had been when he received it. Kitty’s had been aromatic, like a dessert. That one he had enjoyed after a particularly good meal Saturday evening. Rogue’s had a bite to it, and he was working his way through that one at the moment.
Ororo’s smelled like her. It was filled with an earthy, organic flavor that mingled in with the scent her hands had left on it. For some reason, he was saving that cigar for another time.
That night he had gone to her room, not really knowing what he wanted to say. When she’d answered the door, wrapped in some kind of satiny thing that was supposed to pass for a bathrobe, her hair all pinned up, face bearing no hint of make up, he’d said the only thing he could think of besides “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”
She’d felt vulnerable, she said. She’d wanted him there to help her. The moment he’d processed what she had admitted, he wished he had not let her down, as odd as that sounded. Ororo should never feel that weak. She was strong, though she didn’t always know it.
Of course, that damn perceptive sixth sense she had didn’t make it any easier. Cutting through layers of his own self deluded reasons and hitting the proverbial nail on the head. He never left the mansion because he wanted Rogue within “saving distance”.
It was then that he understood that wasn’t the entire reason. He never left the mansion…because she didn’t. He wanted to be there for Ororo, not only Rogue. She needed backup, someone to put foot to ass when the situation called for it. As a powerful mutant, she should not have required help, but for some reason she had reached out to him.
He had taken her hand and never even noticed the difference.
Gotta stop thinkin’ bout this, bub. It’s not doin’ anyone any good.
Rolling in his bed, he noted the pink stain of dawn outside of his window and dragged himself out of bed. Yawning, he stretched languidly as he stood. Every day since Ororo had cried, he woke up thinking about her. Once, he had even reached for her, waking from a nightmare of a dark tunnel and a bright white light he could not reach.
They had not spoken about the strange behavior the night before the mall incident. He had wanted to move on, though he thought about it more often than he would have liked. It was an odd feeling, knowing he had said or done something to push her away when all she had wanted to do was help him.
And damn, his room still bore a hint of her scent.
Logan showered quickly, dressing as was his trademark in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, heavy black boots on his feet. It did not take long to head downstairs in the relative silence of the morning. He took his time once he was downstairs, noting that Kitty had fallen asleep in the living room again, the DVD player was stuck on the menu of whatever sappy romance she’d passed out to the evening before.
He took a moment to shut the irritating thing off, cutting the mournful music of violins off in mid-note. Pausing, he covered Kitty in a blanket before moving on to the kitchen. That girl really needed a boyfriend. She drove him absolutely insane with her movies and books all over the mansion. He couldn’t wait until she was off at college. At least he would be spared her crying over the love scenes.
Creeping into the kitchen, Logan caught the scent of peppermint on the air and halted in the doorway.
“Good morning, Logan,” a soft, achingly familiar voice greeted.
He took one more step into the kitchen, revealing Jean as she sat in a pool of dawn sunlight at the table, a cup of coffee in her hands. Logan’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. Cautiously, he met her eyes, relief filling him when he recognized the sparkle of humor and intelligence that Jean’s had always borne.
She was back.
“Hey,” he said, still blinking as though she would vanish.
Jean’s smile was kind, much like the one he’d received when he awoke on the medical bed after the Liberty Island fiasco. Coming up to the table, he smiled back, not quite sure how to react to this new development. They had all spent a week waiting for her to come back to them. It was never a question of “if”, only “when”.
“I’m glad you’re up first,” she was saying. “Though I didn’t expect you to be here.”
Logan smirked. “I live here, Jeanie. Where else would I be?”
The red haired telepath chuckled quietly. “I didn’t know you lived here. And when did I become Jeanie?”
He shrugged, clearing his throat as he grabbed a coffee cup and moved to the pot. He could feel Jean watching him, though his back was turned, as he tried to collect himself. It was a miracle, having her back like this. He had not been prepared for such a casual greeting during what was usually his alone time.
“How’re the Professor and Beast? I know they’ve been working pretty hard,” he said at last.
“Sleeping. The Professor and I managed to subdue my other personality early last night. About an hour ago, I was finally deemed ready to leave the infirmary. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two never managed to undress before they fell asleep.”
“You’re not tired?” he questioned, taking his coffee back to the table, feeling a little more at ease.
“Not really. I just spent a week sedated, you know. I wanted to see the house, and everyone,” she replied, smiling as he sat opposite her.
“Seen One-Eye yet?” he grunted, taking a sip of his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue.
“Yes, actually, he was there when I woke up. I made him go shower a few minutes ago. He was having a hard time staying in one piece,” Jean laughed a little. “I suppose I can’t blame him. His fiancée did just come back from the dead.”
Logan laughed with her. “Still engaged then?”
The question was purposefully light, without any undertones of jealously, surprising even himself. He needed to tell her, somehow, that she was safe from his advances now.
Jean raised a brow. “Yes.”
“That’s good. Maybe he’ll stop moanin’ and groanin’ about dying an old maid,” Logan quipped, hoping to make her laugh again.
It worked. Jean laughed heartily, wiping at her eyes as Logan smirked at her. Jean was back, really back. He had a feeling it would be a good day.
“Well, I’ll try to convince him he won’t be an old maid,” Jean said once she’d gotten hold of herself.
“Can’t tell ya how happy that makes me,” Logan winked, taking a sip of his coffee again.
Jean slid from the booth, making her way to the coffee pot. “So, why don’t you tell me what I missed, Logan.”
He sat back in the booth and looked at the ceiling. “That’s a long list, darlin’.”
She turned back to him, her face pained. Mentally kicking himself, he opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.
“I’ve missed my family, Logan.”
He nodded curtly. “Ok.”
~@~
Two hours after arriving in the kitchen, Logan was finally finishing up the long list of “what Jean missed”. Scott had come downstairs shortly after Logan, sitting beside his fiancée and adding in his two cents where needed.
The three ate breakfast together, the house still quiet around them, though Logan could detect muffled sounds from above that hinted the others were waking as well.
Scott and Jean were in constant physical contact. Their bodies brushed against one another as they chatted amicably with Wolverine. It was sickening, really. Love practically oozed off of them and flooded the floor. Logan was quite sure he never wanted to be reduced to that kind of touchy-feely stuff.
It was a lot like watching Bobby and Rogue, actually. That didn’t comfort him in the least.
Jean had laughed over the antics of her students, nearly cried when Logan retold the story of Storm’s injuries in Chicago, and her eyes burned with a fiery rage when she learned of the incident at the mall. She was happy though, Logan could tell. Jean had missed her home and everyone in it.
When Logan detected a hint of fresh rain on the air, along with the soft thumping of boots on the carpet in the hall, he inhaled deeply, trying to figure out which direction Storm was coming from.
He had all but tuned Scott and Jean out when a feminine voice spoke into his mind.
Thank you.
Logan whipped around, staring at Jean, a little annoyed that he could possibly miss ‘Ro’s entrance. He had a strange sort of ritual now. The first sight of her in the morning was something that made him get out of bed every day.
Really? Jean’s telepathic voice was filled with humor. Well, that explains why you’re not hitting on me. Thank you for that. It’s keeping Scott calm.
Not wanting to reply, he nodded, turning his eyes, nose, and ears back to their “watch”. He hated it when the telepaths just looked into his head that way. Maybe it was a good thing Jeanie was taken.
One night of snooping in his mind during sex and he’d have definitely lost his temper.
“Good morning, Logan,” he heard Ororo’s soft voice as she entered the kitchen from the living room. He instantly took in her appearance, saving the image almost by habit.
As usual, she wore white. A white top that set off her dark skin and made her hair seem even more pure. Tight leather pants, heeled boots. She’d left her hair down…and not bothered with makeup.
“Rogue would like a trip to the cinema this afternoon with Bobby. She was wondering if you would take them.”
His eyes met hers across the kitchen and he nodded once. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Excellent, you can take my car, if you like,” she continued, heading for the coffee pot. “Good morning, Scott. Good morning, Jean.”
A soft snort across the table drew his eyes to Scott and Jean. They were laughing, though trying to hide it. Lost in his own thoughts, it took Logan a moment to put it all together as well. Poor ‘Ro hadn’t even realized what she’d done. He poised himself at the edge of the booth, ready to spring into action when she finally understood.
Glass shattered all over the counter and burning liquid splashed to the floor as the coffee pot slipped from Ororo’s grip. Logan leaped from the booth, taking the kitchen in two strides, instantly checking her for injuries. The woman had not moved, but her entire body trembled.
“Jean?” her whisper tore at his heart.
Blue eyes found his, pleading with him. Logan nodded his head toward the table, urging her to turn and see for herself.
“I’m here, sweetie,” Jean replied softly from the table, all laughter gone from her voice.
No scent of blood found his nose, but Ororo had burned her hand. He stepped away from her as she turned, her eyes finding Jean’s as her lip quivered with emotion. She wouldn’t cry. He knew that. She would tuck it all away inside of her.
Jean held her arms out to Ororo, and the darker woman moved slowly toward the table. Logan noted the telepath was crying, her eyes locked onto Storm’s. It didn’t take a genius to know they were saying everything they needed to say, silently.
When Storm reached Jean, they embraced warmly. Logan heard a sniffle and looked around the women, groaning when he noted Scott was crying openly.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Logan grabbed a nearby dishtowel, stepping over the remnants of the coffee pot to get some ice for ‘Ro’s burn. Without a word, he handed the cold towel to Jean, leaving Storm in her care as he busied himself with cleaning her mess.
The noise level from the living room and staircase increased. Voices and footsteps carried to Logan’s sensitive ears, which pricked up, trying to identify the people moving toward the kitchen.
“Heads up, Jeanie,” he grumbled. “You’re about to be soaking wet.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Thirty seconds later, the teenage housemates stomped into the kitchen, coming to a screeching halt when they noted the red-haired woman standing in the center of the room.
Logan was sure he’d gone deaf from all the squealing. Holding his ears, he stumbled from the kitchen, content to spend some much needed time alone.
~@~
“Aw, come on!” Logan shouted into the maintenance hatch his torso was crammed in. “This is ri-goddamn-diculous!”
Project: Danger Room was still on schedule, but Logan was having a hard time installing the video monitoring system so they could record training sessions for review. Scott had already set up the major pieces of electronics, including the holographic projectors, with the aid of Hank.
Of course, things always seemed to go wrong when Logan wanted to work on something. Swearing as he received another minor electrical shock, he heard the sound of a throat clearing from the hallway, where his feet happened to be sticking out.
Sliding on his back to look up at Scott, he growled.
“I hate this fuckin’ thing.”
“Doesn’t seem to like you much, either,” Summers replied, kneeling in front of the panel to release the next one over. “Want some help?”
“If you can make it work, yeah. If you’re gonna ask me personal questions because Jeanie sent you down here to get dirt on what was goin’ on in my head this mornin’, fuck no,” Logan snapped, reaching for his wrench.
“Actually, Storm sent me down here to remind you that you’re supposed to take Rogue and Bobby to that movie in a few hours,” Cyclops snapped back, placing the panel he’d removed away and sliding into the conduit on his back.
Logan could see Scott’s face through the mess of wires and computer chips. Side by side, they began to work on the video system, much as they had over the last weeks while setting up their new “toy”.
“Oh yeah. Almost forgot,” he paused. He did not want to talk about ‘Ro right now.
“Damn, Wolfman, this thing is fried. Got another chip in your box?” Cyclops muttered, grabbing the burnt computer chip and tossing it into the hall.
“Yeah, I can’t figure out what’s burnin’ them.”
“Too much power through this entire area. We’ll have to reroute some through the projectors.”
“Hey, the last thing we need to do is overload those bastards.”
“True,” Scott paused. “We’ll route the excess voltage through the secondary power system. That should hold it.”
“Right.”
They worked in silence for some time, speaking only to confirm something or toss an insult from one conduit to the other. Logan hated being bested at anything by Cykie, but he had to admit that the man had a knack for electronics.
Once they repaired the power flow system, they began work on the heating and cooling injectors, designed to change the temperature during sessions for building up resistances. Logan’s mind seemed to like this kind of work. It was methodical and everything had an answer. Unlike the rest of his life, this made sense.
It was not until just before Logan had to leave to keep his promise to Rogue that Scott mentioned anything about Jean.
“What did you mean earlier? About Jean sending me down here?” he tried.
“If you don’t know, I’m not sayin’ a word,” Wolverine shot back.
“Look, at the risk of being clawed into taco meat, I’m going to ask this one question. If you don’t want to answer, I’ll leave it alone.”
Logan grunted.
“Do you honestly think no one sees the way you look at her?”
He stopped. The wrench halted in it’s tightening motion, the head still locked onto the screw he’d been adjusting. Believing Scott was talking about Jean, he snarled.
“I’m not touchin’ Jean, dick. We got that bit out of the way this mornin’.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Terrified to even think about what that meant, Logan paused before replying. He could try to shrug it off, threaten the moron, or just walk away. The truth of the matter was that Logan had no idea why he looked at her that way, or why she consumed his thoughts and even nightmares.
“’Ro?”
“Right,” Scott grunted as he finished bolting a panel down. “You never take your eyes off of her, and this morning it was like you were waiting for her. I won’t mention the jumping-up-to-catch-her thing after she broke the coffee pot.”
Deciding to not reply, as his claws were already poking at the underside of his skin, begging to be released, he turned away from Cyclops, pulling another panel off to check the chips inside it.
“You really don’t know, do you?” Scott said a few moments later, a hint of awe in his voice.
“Know what?” Logan growled.
Scott whistled lowly, as though something was immensely entertaining. “When you figure it out, man, you’re in for a hell of a surprise.”
“Come on, bub, just lay it all out. Am I missin’ somethin’ or are you just lookin’ for a fight?”
“Trust me on this, Logan, its not something you want to hear from me. You’ll figure it out on your own,” Scott stated simply.
“Shouldn’t you be off making kissy face with your fiancée?”
Every instinct in him was screaming to hit Scott and run, full tilt, out of the mansion. Knowing something was going on inside himself was one thing. Being called on it by someone he barely tolerated was completely different. He’d been in this damn house too long.
“What in the world are you two doing?”
Speak of the goddamn devil…
Both men attempted to sit up quickly from their positions, while still halfway inside the conduit. As one, they knocked their heads on a low pipe, groaning and shaking their heads after it. Logan slid out from under the panel, noting Scott was doing likewise.
Storm stood above them, hands on her hips, trying to hide the amused smile on her face.
“Having fun with your toys, are you?”
For a moment, Logan was sure Scott would say something incriminating and he would have to kill the bastard.
“Working on some video surveillance upgrades down here and talking about football,” Scott lied smoothly.
Hiding the shock and tinge of appreciation, Logan looked from Scott to Ororo.
“Time to go?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Rogue is upstairs in the foyer, tapping her foot and glaring at the elevator,” she replied, holding her hands out to help them stand.
“Jean went to lie down. I think the emotional morning is taking it’s toll,” she added a moment later, as Scott brushed the dust from his jeans.
“Yeah? Maybe I’ll go check on her. Wolverine, we can finish this later, right?”
“Sure,” Logan nodded, feeling the bruise on his forehead healing.
He took a moment to kneel in front of Ororo, boxing up their tools and sliding the open panel he’d moved back into place. Sudden movement beside him caught his eye as footsteps retreated down the hall.
Storm replaced the panel One-Eye had been working in, her delicate fingers pressing the magnetic corners until they clicked. He thanked her with a nod, taking up the toolbox and motioning toward the elevator.
“I’ll go change, could ya tell Rogue I’ll be up in a minute?”
“Of course,” Storm replied, moving to the elevator. He closed his eyes once her back was to him, inhaling deeply.
“Any idea what she wants to see?” he asked as the elevator doors slid closed after they entered.
“Casablanca,” she supplied quickly, pressing the button to take them up. “I had no idea that Rogue preferred classic films to new ones.”
“What’s it about?”
“Love, for the most part. Falling in love, the risks of it, and then losing it, of course. It is that way with many “epic” romances,” she told him, her voice that same even tone he was used to.
He grunted. “Great. Two hours with a mushy teenage couple and a sappy movie. Sounds like a fantastic time,” he said sarcastically.
“At the very least, you will be able to sleep,” she quipped with a small smile.
Logan gave her a one-sided smirk. “With those two? I doubt it. They can’t buy chewing gum without it turning into a fuckin’ Greek tragedy.”
Ororo covered her mouth to suppress a laugh, revealing a white bandage covering her palm.
“How bad was the burn?” he questioned as the elevator doors stopped at the main level.
“First degree. There should not be any scarring, but Henry wants to keep an eye on it,” she paused. “Thank you, by the way.”
He raised a brow as she stepped out of the elevator. “For what?”
“Trying to rescue me again. It is becoming a habit, I fear.”
Logan did not have time to respond. The elevator door slid closed a moment later, taking him to the dormitory level as he pondered her words, bracing himself for an afternoon of teenage romantic antics.
Chapter Nine: Here's Lookin' at You by Gaineewop
Chapter Nine: Here’s Lookin’ at You
“Rogue, get in the damn car!”
“No! Not until yah both apologize!”
“Come on, Rogue, I didn’t mean it, we’re going to miss the movie.”
Ororo lifted her head, listening to the shouted conversation that took place on the drive. Recognizing the voices of Logan, Rogue, and Bobby, she put the stack of textbooks she’d been carrying on a nearby end table and walked to the side door of the mansion, poking her head out curiously.
Logan was behind the wheel of her car, Bobby Drake behind him. The top was down, but they were both leaning out of the car, looking over their shoulders. Intrigued now, Storm stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her, searching for the owner of the female voice.
Rogue stood on the drive, her hands balled into fists and her eyes flashing with intent to murder. Deciding to intervene on her young friend’s behalf, Ororo made some show of walking over, encouraging Logan to hear her approach.
“Miss Munroe!” Rogue exclaimed, rushing over to her.
“What is happening here?” she asked, wrapping her arms around the pretty Southern girl.
“Those two…idiots are makin’ fun of me!”
Glaring at Logan, who looked ready to bang his head against the steering wheel repeatedly, she kissed the top of Rogue’s head, drawing on that oddly feminine need to look out for anyone female.
“What did you do?”
“Nothin’! I just told her she and ice-lover could sit on either side of me and enjoy the movie just the same,” Logan replied, his voice near growling.
“Logan!” Ororo chided, placing an arm around Rogue’s shoulders as she walked to the car. “That is not funny. This is a date and you are merely the chaperone.”
“’Ro, I didn’t want to do this in the first damn place,” he responded, puffing on his cigar.
“Do not swear at me, Logan,” she turned to Bobby. “And what did you do?”
“Why do women stick together?” the boy whispered to Logan.
“Not now, kid,” the older man shushed him.
“Ah don’t want to go to the movies now. Not with them,” Rogue piped up from her place beside Ororo.
“Come now, dear, you have been waiting for this movie for weeks. You should go see it,” Ororo soothed her kindly.
“All right,” the girl paused, wiping at her eyes. “Would you come with us?”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“Pardon?”
Rogue shot both men a dirty look before meeting Ororo’s eyes. “Then you can sit by Logan and he’ll leave us alone.”
Storm’s heart rate attempted light speeds within her breast, making her clear her throat awkwardly as she regarded the young girl before her. She had no desire to actually see the film, much less in the company of two teenagers and a man who’s very presence seemed to make breathing an aerobic sport, but she knew him. If she insisted they go as a threesome, Rogue would come back in tears and Logan would be pleased with himself.
Though she knew he approved of Bobby’s relationship with Marie, in theory, she knew the practical side of it was still hard to accept.
“Please, Miss Munroe. He’ll behave if you’re there,” Rogue whispered.
Of course, the whisper did nothing to mask Logan’s acute hearing.
“Fine, I’ll stay home, have Storm take you,” Logan grunted, moving to get out of the car.
“No, Logan. You promised,” Rogue fairly screeched at him.
At that moment, Ororo knew the girl had won. Logan could not, would not, renege on a promise to Rogue. It was as though his self-worth rested in the simple fact that he had not broken a promise to her yet.
Ororo felt that scorching gaze land on her, even without looking up, she knew Logan was watching her. Again.
“I suffer, you suffer, ‘Ro.”
Mentally swearing and vowing to get Rogue back for this one, she nodded slowly.
“Let me tell Scott I am leaving the grounds,” she took Rogue’s arm. “We will fix Marie’s cosmetics as well.”
As they turned to reenter the house, Ororo distinctly heard both men groan in frustration. Once safely inside, Ororo turned to Rogue.
“What are you attempting here, Marie?” she raised a white brow.
Rogue smirked; she looked dangerously like Logan when she did that. Perhaps a bit of him had remained with her the few times she had touched him.
“Ah just wanted him out of the way,” she replied defensively.
“Rogue, I do not want to know what you are up to, but please, keep me out of it.”
“Ah can’t do that.”
The girl turned on her heel and walked to the bathroom quickly, leaving Ororo to attempt to pull herself together.
She hurriedly grabbed a coat and brushed her hair, ignoring the questions of Peter and Kitty as they played chess in the living room. Scott happened to be in the kitchen, so she explained the situation as fast as she could without seeming rushed.
She nearly choked when he smirked at her and said quite simply: “Have a good time.”
Once everything was taken care of, Storm slipped her coat on and collected her wallet from her bedroom. Rogue was waiting for her in the hall when she was finished, looking impatient.
I will find out what you are up to, girl, you can count on that.
She brushed passed her friend, opening the door and taking a deep breath. It was going to be a very long afternoon.
~@~
The film was interesting, from a historical point of view.
Logan and Ororo had settled in the very last row, sharing a carton of gummy bears and a bowl of popcorn in the dark theatre. It was not crowded, though a few couples and groups dotted the chilly room.
Bobby and Marie had taken seats several rows ahead of them, Rogue’s head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. They looked utterly enthralled with the old black and white film, though occasionally they would lean closer to whisper to one another.
All in all, it was sweet, from a puppy-love aspect. It was comforting to see two young mutants behaving as people their age should. Ororo leaned back in her chair, watching the film but not really seeing it.
Logan was bored. She could tell by his slouched posture that he wanted to be anywhere but here. He idly munched on the snacks they had purchased, watching the screen with a dead look in his eyes.
Though Jean had come back to them only this morning, things felt…normal. Expecting the world to shift, Ororo found the calm acceptance hard to swallow. Perhaps it was simply because they had expected her to wake, to return. She had been carefully monitored in the infirmary for a week.
Ororo’s joy could not be matched, even when she had so casually greeted her in the beginning. They had spoken from the moment their eyes met, using the mental link that had saved Jean’s life.
While she had not cried on the outside, Jean had sensed that she was weeping inside. They held one another for a long time, their minds speaking for them. Jean was home. Her friend, sister, confidante had come home.
Smiling a little in the dark theatre, watching Humphrey Bogart on the enormous screen, she gently reached out with her mind, as the Professor had taught them so long ago. A light, familiar push came back to her and she sighed with relief. She really was there.
“Please tell me that sigh wasn’t because of this movie,” Logan grumbled beside her.
“No, Logan. I was…reaching Jean,” she said quietly.
“What?”
She glanced about to ensure they would not be overheard before she replied.
“Years ago, when we first became X-Men, the Professor fitted Henry, Scott, and myself with a mental link to himself and Jean, so that we could communicate on missions. This was before we had comm. devices,” she explained.
“So, you can all contact Jean with your heads?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Must come in handy,” he concluded, taking a handful of popcorn.
“It did at Alkali Lake.”
“Guess so.”
Unable to help herself, Ororo went on.
“Perhaps the Professor will bring you into our link. It could prove useful.”
“Hey, no one is gonna to have any kind of link with my head. It’s my head,” he retorted.
Ororo hid a smirk behind her hand.
He turned back to the film, leaving Ororo to study his profile out of the corner of her eye.
In the week since he had come to her bedroom door, they had seldom spoken alone. Something or someone always came along to give her an escape. So many things came to her attention now, and she found herself watching him constantly.
The subtle grace he exuded when he walked, the way his cigar smoke lingered when he moved from room to room in the mansion. She could tell changes in his mood by which eyebrow happened to be higher or the line of his lips.
His eyes followed her nearly as often as hers followed him. That heated gaze, glinting with something she could not understand, had even invaded her dreams. She had a mental catalogue of him, of things he did that she had not noticed before.
Such as the fact that he drank his coffee with ridiculous amounts of sugar, that he always took a run around the grounds on Friday mornings, and did rounds almost out of instinct to locate any problems.
She found herself remembering that night at her bedroom door, the trust he placed in her, the way words came so easily around him. No man had ever had such an effect on her. She could feel him coming no matter who was in the room. Her skin would tingle and the hair on the back of her neck would stand up.
Logan shifted in his seat, his arm brushing hers as they “fought” over the shared armrest. The light touch of his bare skin on hers made her breath catch. Gritting her teeth against her body’s treacherous behavior, she looked away.
“You ok?” he asked softly. The concern in his tone made her toes curl up.
What is wrong with me?
“Yes, I am quite all right,” Ororo replied carefully.
“It’s almost over. Can we strangle Rogue for making us sit through this?”
She smiled at him in the dim light, the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. Vaguely aware that he was studying her face intently in the gray light, she swallowed thickly, her heart thudding in her breast, no doubt detectable by his acute senses. Logan paused, meeting her eyes and then leaned closer to her, almost imperceptivity.
“Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.”
The words did not come from Ororo’s mouth, though she was surprised they had not. Glancing at the screen, she noted Humphrey and Ingrid Bergman locked in a passionate embrace.
When she turned back to Logan, he was sitting back in his chair, jaw set, staring at the screen. Ororo slowly settled against the cushioned back of her seat, willing her heart to slow down before it ceased beating entirely from the strain.
Not another word passed between them for some time. Ororo could not stop herself from peeking at him when she thought he was not looking. His lips drew her gaze almost instantly, the smooth line of them, his beard framing them perfectly.
She looked away, picking at the bandage on her hand. She had to be out of her mind. Thinking of Logan in this way…her friend, one of her closest friends in the last weeks. How could she even imagine…
As if sensing her distress, Jean’s telepathic presence nudged at her mind.
Not now, Jean.
Is everything all right?
Yes, I am simply…having a personal crisis.
Want me to butt out?
Yes, please. I will explain later.
I’m holding you to that, sweetie.
The presence was gone a moment later, leaving Ororo alone to ponder over the entire mess. She could not deny, even to herself, that a part of her was attracted to Logan. Physically. There was an animalistic quality to him that called to her own baser instincts. Unlike her, he could let at least some of those primal urges out. She wanted that kind of release. Desperately.
Music swelled from the speakers around the theatre, making Ororo look back up. She startled slightly when Logan shifted, making her drop the popcorn. Apologizing, she reached down to pick it up, scooping the spilled snack food neatly and pushing it back into the carton. She set it into the empty seat beside her, turning back to Logan to ensure nothing else had been overturned.
His face was inches from hers.
Breathing suddenly restricted, she met his eyes easily, wondering what he was thinking. Slowly, he moved a little closer, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips and back again. Her body was taught, her skin tingling as it did when he was too close as of late.
“Logan?” she whispered, unsure why she spoke his name in such a breathy tone.
“Yeah?” he replied, his lips so close now she could feel the warmth of his breath on hers.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Before she could reply, he pressed his lips to hers. A zing ran through Ororo’s body at the intimate contact, her hands coming up to wrap about his neck, every reason she should not be doing this screaming in her mind.
Logan’s mouth was softer than she expected, yielding to her at first, before he became demanding, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip as though asking for entry. She obeyed, though her head told her to pull back, parting her lips and allowing him inside.
She heard him inhale deeply, his rough hands finding their way to her back, pulling her forward until the armrest forced him to stop. Ororo could not even register the dull pain the action produced as the armrest met her still-healing scar.
His tongue delved into her mouth, searching for hers. She explored his mouth slowly, memorizing the crevices, his sharp teeth and the smoothness of his tongue. He tasted of cigars, popcorn, candy, and something she could not place. Logan’s taste. She whimpered softly into his mouth, not wanting to break away as his tongue massaged hers, his entire body telling her he wanted more.
Need for air forced them apart. She tore her lips from Logan’s, gasping, unable to speak. Their eyes locked as they had so often in the last days, weeks, as the voices from the screen finally filtered into her cloudy mind.
“We said no questions,” the cool female voice was saying.
A long pause followed as Ororo stared into the depth of Logan’s eyes.
“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” came the male response.
This time, it was Ororo who moved forward. She wrapped her bandaged hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her, crushing her mouth to his. Strong hands wove into her hair, holding her in place as their tongues dueled for dominance.
How much time passed, she did not know, nor did she care. Perhaps it was the darkness of the theatre and her complicated emotions that brought this about. They could walk out of the theatre and never speak of it again. But by the Goddess, she would have this. A single memory of his lips, the low growl she received when she attempted to pull away, the warmth his touch flooded her body with.
The lights came on.
Logan pulled back from her roughly, hand balled into a fist as it normally did before he extended his claws. Realizing he had been surprised, Ororo took her hand and placed it over his. If he extended his claws, he would harm her in the process. He turned to look at her, nodding his understanding that there was no threat.
Bobby and Rogue approached the doors, hand in hand, looking as though they had enjoyed themselves thoroughly as they chatted quietly.
Taking her hand from Logan’s, Ororo swallowed hard again, closing her eyes to gain a hold on her emotions. She had not been kissed so thoroughly in a very long time and the effect had been unexpected. Before, kissing had distressed her, leading her to wonder what kind of disasters were happening out of doors because of her. Logan’s kiss had blown distress out of the water. Though her mind had been telling her one thing, her emotional response had been clear.
More.
Shaking her head, she opened her eyes. She could not detect any elemental anomalies. When her sight came into focus, he was staring at her.
“We need to talk,” he said gruffly, reaching for her coat.
She could only nod as they left the theatre, wondering what this “talk” would consist of and wishing she had listened to her head, as she always did, instead of her betraying heart.
~@~
As was common in their lives, they had not a single moment alone after the movie ended. Ororo could sense the tensing of Logan’s back as the hours wore on. They had been coerced into taking Rogue and Bobby to dinner, but the teens had insisted on sitting with them, as though making up for wanting to be away from the adults during the movie.
Choosing a fast food restaurant, much to Ororo’s displeasure, the group had taken a late dinner, the teens carrying most of the conversation as Logan and Ororo tried to not stare at one another.
Unlike the gazes that plagued their students, Logan bore his eyes into hers as though he were trying to take her apart mentally, to understand her, read her behavior.
As an animal would its mate.
Dinner ended when Logan had spotted a group of twenty-somethings whispering about them in a corner. Though it was unclear whether or not they had been identified as mutants, Storm agreed that leaving the immediate area was a good idea.
Once home, Henry had taken Ororo from the group, regaling her with a tale of ruins discovered in Tanzania. While she appreciated the sentiment, a part of her wanted to get away, to discuss the entire…kiss incident with Logan. As usual, however, Henry was relentless and manners dictated that she read through the articles with him, discussing the ins and outs of archeology.
By the time she had freed herself from Henry’s grasp, Jean was searching for her. Avoiding her friend, she had gone to bed, pacing her bedroom for the better part of two hours before her body demanded rest.
Even in sleep, the intensity of Logan’s kiss burned her. Restlessness overtook her, making her turn in her bed, staring at the door as though she could will him to open it. Sighing, she finally managed to sleep, though it was late.
Her dreams were not the sort that she was used to. Blurred images of Logan, bits of memories mixed with the old black and white film they had seen. His kisses seemed real, even though she knew she slept. Calloused hands roamed aching flesh, skin against skin.
The explosion shook the foundations of the mansion.
Starting awake, Ororo rolled onto the floor, panting for breath as she fought off the remnants of her erotic dreams.
She rushed to the bedroom door, opening it just enough to peer into the hall. Seeing no one and nothing out of the ordinary, Storm pushed the door the rest of the way, crouching against the wall to avoid any attack aimed at the entrance.
Keeping her crouched position, she crept into the hall, gasping when a hand moved to cover her mouth. The instant she recognized the rough fingertips and the scent of cigar smoke, she relaxed.
“Shh. I can’t smell anythin’, but it came from Summers’ room,” Logan whispered gruffly.
She nodded, his bare chest pressed against her back for an instant before Wolverine released her. Doors opened all around them, though Storm was intent on Scott’s bedroom door. She crawled across the carpeted floor to the door, listening as the others filed into the hallway silently.
Wolverine took up position on the opposite end of Scott’s doorway, sniffing intently at the air, one ear to the wall.
Scott’s muffled voice came to them all a moment later.
“Its all right, everyone. I’m opening the door, don’t claw, shoot, strike, absorb, phase through, or freeze anything, ok?”
“Nice and slow, Summers,” Wolverine ordered, keeping his eyes on Storm.
She nodded, prepared to pounce should anything not resembling Scott or Jean step through the doorway. Cold breath fell onto her shoulder, silently saying that Iceman had taken up position behind her.
Peter stood directly in front of the door, waiting to activate his steel mutation, while Kitty and Rogue hung back. For a moment, no one moved. Storm could almost hear the ticking of alarm clocks from several rooms down in the silence. Her eyes remained on Logan, waiting for his next move.
The door opened slowly and Scott stepped cautiously into the hall, clothes askew, hair disheveled, hands raised in surrender. Wolverine sniffed the air around him, nodding to Storm when his inspection was through.
Jean followed Scott a moment later, her cheeks as red as her hair, even in the dim light.
“It was my fault, I’m sorry,” she said as Wolverine stood from his crouch.
“What the hell was that?” he questioned when Kitty hit the light switch at his nod, making everyone cover their eyes.
“My telekinesis. I still don’t have that good a handle on it,” she explained sheepishly.
“We didn’t realize the entire mansion had felt it until doors started opening,” Cyclops added.
Storm shook her head, coming to stand before her friend, hugging her tightly.
“What were you doing?” Bobby asked, yawning sleepily.
This time, both Jean and Scott blushed. Rogue held up her hands, covering her ears and closing her eyes.
“Ah don’t wanna know!”
Soft laughter filled the hall. Storm kissed Jean’s cheek and turned to go back to bed. The others broke up as well, obviously deciding that they could worry about things in the morning. Assuming Jean had already spoken to the Professor, Ororo did a habitual headcount.
“Where is Henry?” she asked suddenly, turning back to the group.
Jean’s eyes went flat for a moment as she mentally reached out to their missing friend. She smiled an instant later, shaking her head as the contact broke.
“He fell asleep in his lab, apparently the “explosion” didn’t go that far or he is an extremely heavy sleeper,” Jean reported.
Another ripple of laughter sounded through the hall and the assemblage headed back to their rooms. Scott and Jean beat a hasty retreat into their bedroom while Storm ushered the others to their rooms, bidding goodnight to them one by one.
The light clicked off before Ororo made it back to her bedroom and she allowed herself to smile. Stopping in her tracks, she closed her eyes, concentrating on her hearing, her sense of smell.
She felt his presence before he touched her, his chest to her back again.
“We still need to talk, darlin’,” he whispered.
“I know,” she replied. “Tomorrow, Logan.”
Ororo felt his lips on her bare shoulder, a brief kiss that sent gooseflesh racing down her arms. She tried to turn, to kiss him again, no matter the consequences, but he had moved away too quickly.
Sighing when she heard his bedroom door close, Ororo moved into her room and shut the door behind her. A hollow ache had formed in her belly, an ache that had Logan’s name carved into it.
Slipping back into bed, she ran her fingers over the place his lips had touched her, her body wound tightly once more. Heart racing, flesh begging to be touched, she tumbled back into the world of dreams.
Logan was waiting for her there.
Chapter Ten: Growing Addiction by Gaineewop
Chapter Ten: Growing Addiction
“Logan?”
He leaned against the rail of the patio, quietly looking over the grounds as Rogue and Peter planted a few lilac bushes along the garden wall. The new sweet-smelling plants were replacements for those Ororo’s storm had destroyed several days ago.
Logan looked over his shoulder, nodding a hello to Jean as she came out of the kitchen to join him. Placing her hands on the rail, mimicking the position he had taken, she smiled fondly at their students digging in the dirt.
“They seem to be having some fun, don’t they?” Jean’s voice was soft, filled with the kindness he had come to expect from her.
“Yeah, don’t ask me why, but they volunteered for it,” he replied with a grunt.
“Maybe they wanted to be outside. Or they wanted to avoid laundry duty with Bobby and Kitty.”
“Option B,” Logan concluded. “It’s too damn hot to be out there planting bushes.”
“Hrmm,” Jean murmured absently.
They stood in silence for a few moments, leading Logan to believe there was something she wanted him for, but her mind had been drawn away by the teens a few yards away. He waited until he was sure she had drifted into her own thoughts before he spoke.
“Was there somethin’ ya needed, Jeanie?”
“Oh,” she startled from her musings. “Yes, the Professor wanted to see you in his office this afternoon.”
“Great. Wonder what the problem is now.”
“I’m sure if you meet with him, he’ll tell you,” her tone held a bit of humor, making Logan nearly smile.
It was his turn to drift into his thoughts. Thoughts that included a stupid movie and Ororo’s lips. Swallowing hard, he kept his scowl affixed to his face even as his flesh burned with the memory of her touch.
How or why it had happened he did not know, but he was sure he had wanted it. Sitting beside her, as though they had nowhere better to be, had been…comfortable. She wasn’t the type that talked during a movie, and unless he asked her a question, she was silent.
Ororo had kept him from sleep the night before, his mind going over those few moments with her in the darkened theatre until he had every image was carved into his mind. The taste of her lips, the sound of her rapid heartbeat, the ache in her touch haunted him. Had he not actually witnessed it, he would have thought her incapable of such brashness. But he had held her to his chest, felt the underlying heat she tried to control.
Primal instinct.
No matter how many conversations he had with himself about the incident, he could not decipher what had led him to kiss her.
Are you going to kiss me? Yeah, I am.
He turned his face a bit, keeping his profile from Jean’s sight as he grit his teeth. He’d not been sure of what he was doing until her breathy voice asked that question. Her tone, the undeniable change in her scent…that had been his undoing.
Not that he was ever the type to reign in his impulses. Hell, kissing Jean had been an impulse. That, however, had been with the urge to prove himself. To show her that he could be every bit the man One-Eye was.
To his extreme displeasure, the kiss had been one-sided. Jean had barely responded and he had sensed a tensing of her muscles during the whole thing. All in all, it hadn’t been an experience worth repeating, though he had no doubt she was an excellent kisser.
Kissing ‘Ro, on the other hand… She’d responded to him and then some. He had felt her control snap at the first brush of his lips to hers. Pulling him closer, her body telling him that she wanted it as much as he did, though his head was screaming at him.
In fact, he’d expected a sharp bolt of lightning, or at the very least a swift slap in the face when they had pulled apart for air. He had not, in any way, shape, or form, anticipated Ororo wrapping a delicate hand about his neck and yanking him forward for a repeat performance.
“Logan?”
Jean again. He turned back to her slowly, as though he had not been lost in his own little world. Her brow was knitted with concern, one pale hand touching his arm as she studied him with those cinnamon eyes.
Strange to think his response to her had changed in the last few months.
“Yeah?”
“Are you ok? You seem a little lost,” she questioned, turning her body to lean her hip against the rail.
“Maybe I am,” he said simply.
“Lost as you were when Storm and Cyclops found you in Canada?” Jean went on. “Or is this a different sort of lost?”
It took him a moment to reply, his eyes not leaving hers. He did not believe she was puttering about in his head, so he shrugged and told her the truth.
“I don’t know.”
Jean nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. A long silence fell between them, broken only when Jean spoke once more, her voice dropping as though meant for only his ears.
“Remember that night we camped by the jet?”
“Yeah,” he replied, wondering where this was going.
“I told you that girls flirt with the dangerous guy.”
Logan smirked a little at this, nodding. “But they marry the good guy.”
Her lips quirked into a half smile. “You told me you could be the good guy.”
Chuckling, Logan turned his eyes back to Rogue and Peter, whom were laughing together, covered in dirt.
“Stupid, eh? I’ll never be the ‘good guy’,” Logan told her, surprised when that knowledge seemed to actually hurt a bit.
Maybe everyone had been right about him all along. An animal that needed to be caged, held away from the good people of the world. All he could ever bring to the people he was growing to care for was pain and danger.
Before that train of thought could go any further, Jean spoke once more.
“I was wrong, Logan,” she said quietly. “You are a good guy, even if you’re not the typical good guy.”
Surprised, he turned his head to look at her. She smiled sweetly at him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Logan, unable to think of a response to such a compliment “ if one could take it that way “ he nodded. Jean patted his shoulder gently as she moved to walk away. She had gotten as far as the door when he found his voice.
“Hey, Jean?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“Thanks,” he said at last, deciding to leave it at that.
“Anytime.”
With another of her kind smiles, she moved back into the house, leaving him alone. Logan chewed over her words for a few minutes, wondering what had sparked the conversation. Remembering that the Professor had wanted to see him, Logan pushed off from the rail, heading in doors with a wave to Rogue.
Had Storm said something about the kiss thing to Jean? He didn’t think so. If she had, he was sure that Jean would have been a little more forward. Hell, she probably would have told him to stay away from ‘Ro. Jean and Scott had always been protective when it came to their friend. Not that he could blame them.
Closeness was something he was not used to, but watching the way the X-Men lived, worked, fought, loved, and lost together, it seemed reasonable that they were stuck together as though duct taped. They didn’t have anyone else. Their lives were wrapped up in one another, more so than even a normal family.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Logan headed down the hallway. Ororo had been locked in conversation with Scott when he’d gone to look for her earlier, to talk things over. The look in her eyes when she caught him in the doorway said that she wanted some time alone. He could understand that. He had lived over a decade of wanting to be alone.
He had gone as far as the corridor to the Professor’s office when he smelled her. Ororo came out of the elevator, a stack of what looked to be notebooks and textbooks in her hands. She juggled the heavy load awkwardly for a moment, her long skirt whispering around her as she moved.
“Need some help?” he asked before he reached her, upping his pace a little.
Her smile was broad when she looked up, nearly dropping a book in the process.
“Yes, please. I have suddenly gained the grace of a twelve year old boy,” she quipped as he reached her, taking an armload of her books.
“Thank you,” Storm said, rubbing one of her wrists. “Scott forgot his class notes downstairs, I thought I could carrying it all.”
“You never ask for help, do ya?” Logan asked, shifting the books in his hands.
Her eyes met his with silent question, as though wondering what he meant. Her heart rate sped a little, making him want to smirk.
“Not if I can help it,” Storm replied at last. “I think you would know something about that.”
“Yeah, guess I do,” he nodded. “Where did ya want these?”
She smiled softly, pointing to an empty classroom. “Scott’s room. He will find them when he needs to, I suppose.”
Logan gently kicked the unlocked door open, depositing the armload of books onto a nearby desk. The entire room was spotless, chairs stacked neatly against the far wall, rolling blackboard gleamed, awaiting the teacher and students it had been designed for. He had to admit that during the summer, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngster’s seemed almost lonely.
“I have always hated the quiet of summer. I miss the sound of their laughter, the chorus of ‘Good morning, Miss Munroe’. I fear, at times, that they will never return,” Ororo said from the doorway.
When he turned to her, he noticed a slightly melancholy look upon her beautiful face. She gingerly ran her smooth fingertips over the polished surface of a desk, her eyes faraway. He had been right after all; she was a teacher to the core.
“I’m sure they miss you too. Ya know, all those lectures and tests they complain about constantly,” he stated, wanting to get that sadness off of her face.
Storm smiled brilliantly at him, coming a little further into the room.
“My first year as a teacher here, I was utterly terrified of speaking to them,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the dings in the desk. “Who was I to tell them the ways of the world? I was a child myself.”
Intrigued by her words, the lilt to her voice and the way her fingertips danced over the evidence of abuse on the desk, he stepped closer, wanting her to continue. The melodic quality of her voice was nearly as soothing as that enchanting scent. Images of their heated kisses flooded his mind, making his heart triple in beat.
“This was my classroom for that first semester,” Ororo continued. “My very first lecture included the beginning of the Civil War, brothers killing brothers in the name of freedom.”
“Hard subject matter,” Logan mumbled. He was directly behind her now, watching the play of light on her hair.
“Yes,” she turned to him, standing so close, he could hear her breath hitch. “Two minutes into the lecture, a girl named Samantha raised her hand. When I realized I knew the answer to her question, I felt this….calm wash over me and I knew, without a doubt, that this is where I belonged.”
Her eyes met his, revealing her stifled emotions for the first time. Fear, determination, and hope shone back at him. Logan reached for her, running his rough knuckles down her silky cheek. Ororo’s eyes closed for a moment and she leaned into the touch.
“I wish I had that,” he spoke in a whisper, drawing her chin up with his knuckle.
“What?” came the breathy response.
“A place where I belong.”
“Have you not found it?” she blinked slowly, bashfully looking up at him from under her long lashes.
Logan took one more step to her, leaning to speak against her lips, heart pounding in his chest. “Maybe…”
Talking about it suddenly seemed ridiculous. He wanted to kiss her again, to feel that intense passion mixed with peace that radiated from her. That confidence in herself, her certainty that she knew where her place was fascinated him. What would it be like to have that?
Just before their lips met, the sound of a throat clearing brought him up short.
“Logan, I sent Jean to fetch you nearly half an hour ago,” Professor Xavier said gently.
“I’m not a dog, nobody “fetches” me,” Logan shot back, turning from Storm to glare over his shoulder.
Five minutes, bub. Ya couldn’t wait that fuckin’ long?
“I apologize if my word choice offended you, but I do need to speak with you,” the older man said carefully. Logan could almost see him grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly what he had interrupted.
“Yeah. I’m comin’,” Wolverine fairly growled.
“Thank you. I will be in my office,” Xavier pushed the knob on his wheelchair, rolling toward his office.
Once he and Storm were alone again, he turned back to her. Narrowing his eyes when he detected she was holding back a smile, he snaked a hand around her waist and brought her to his chest, smirking at her surprised squeak as he leaned down to speak into her ear.
“Meet me in your room,” he whispered. “We need to talk.”
“I will be waiting,” she replied, turning her face to kiss his jaw.
Before he could take it any further, he forced himself to release her. Meeting her eyes, he inhaled the fresh rain of her scent, smiling a little to himself. It was her smell that gave him comfort. Her smell attracted his attention.
She looked up at him curiously, but he turned to go before she could question him, leaving the empty classroom and stomping toward Xavier’s office.
~@~
“I am sorry for interrupting you,” Charles said from behind his desk after Logan had settled into a chair.
“What’s goin’ on, Chuck?” Wolverine headed off what he believed was a lecture in propriety when it came to their resident goddess quickly.
Charles had the balls to smirk at him briefly. “While I understand your desire to not discuss matters of a personal nature, I fear I must say one thing in regards to Ororo.”
Logan ground his teeth together. “Then say it.”
“She has a delicate heart, no matter how strong she is. Tread carefully,” Charles said seriously, all hints of humor gone.
“Or I’ll live out the rest of my days thinkin’ I’m a six year old girl, right?”
“Logan, I would not have the chance to attempt it,” the telepath chuckled.
Accepting this, Logan nodded once. He had no doubts in his mind that should he misstep in this…whatever it was with Storm, she’d find a way to kill him before anyone else got the chance.
“Fair enough,” he said. “What did you want to see me about?”
Charles placed his elbows on the dark surface of his desk, pressing his fingers together into an odd sort of triangle, regarding Logan carefully for a moment.
“Scott has told me that he wishes to spend more time with his English classes than combat training this coming semester,” the Professor explained. “I spoke to Jean and Ororo and they have agreed that you are the most qualified man for the job, should you accept it.”
Something inside of him clicked on at the simple suggestion. Teaching? Definitely not what he had expected to do with his life. But then, he’d not wanted part in this “war” between mutants and humans, much less on the odd side out. Defending humans who hated them? Showing kids how to control their powers, teach them the way things should be…that had not fit into his plans.
What plans? Before Xavier, before Rogue, he had nothing. He’d moved constantly, living out of the back of his truck, hustling money from overgrown idiots in bar room fights. That had been his life. Nothing of comradeship, friendship, the feeling of…belonging.
And it hit him. This was another of those choices ‘Ro was so fond of. A life with them, as one of them, truly or a life alone. He had heard people talk about the “moment” of their lives. Was this his?
“Logan, I know this is an odd position for you, and your help would save me a good deal of effort in locating a replacement for Scott,” Charles went on. “But, I must know that should you accept this position, you will remain here. Indefinitely.”
“I understand, Professor,” Logan began carefully.
“If you would like some time to think it over, please, take it,” Xavier said kindly.
Remaining with them, an X-Man, would mean tying himself to a place, to people. Had he already done that? There was no ache within him to seek out answers to his past. He had chosen Xavier’s way that day at Alkali Lake, with that boy in his arms. For an instant, Logan thought about where he wanted to be in the next year, the next five, ten…and the image of the school flashed into his mind.
He had already made this decision.
“I don’t need time. I’ll take the job,” Logan replied before he could second-guess himself.
In the center of his chest, he felt a resounding click. As though he had found something. Not all the answers, certainly, but he felt, for the first time in his life, that he was on the right path.
“Excellent!” Charles smiled warmly. “Of course, we will have to falsify documentation of your credentials, but I don’t foresee that becoming a problem.”
“Right,” Logan nodded, leaning forward. “If you could find me some…I don’t know. What the hell do you do when you teach?”
Charles chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “I do believe you are on speaking terms, at the very least, with every teacher in this school. As well as four students whom I believe would be willing to add in their opinion.”
“Good point. I’ll ask One-Eye what he was doing and then do the opposite of that,” he cracked with a smirk.
Charles shook his head, giving him a fatherly smile. “That is, of course, your choice. I would also advise speaking with Ororo and Jean, they may have insights as well.”
“Sure,” Logan agreed. He definitely did not have a problem talking to Storm.
“The semester begins August first. Remember, Logan, you are not teaching these children to kill, but rather to defend themselves. Should Rogue, Bobby, and Peter wish further training, as X-Men, that will fall on your shoulders as well.”
“Got it,” Logan stood, holding his hand out to the Professor. “Thanks.”
“No, Logan. Thank you,” the man replied, dismissing him.
Logan marched to the door, eager to speak with Ororo about…everything. He stepped out of the office, coming face to face with everyone else.
“Well?” Rogue asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Well what?” Logan asked, feigning confusion. It was far too amusing to watch the veins in her forehead pulse when he did that.
“Are you staying around to teach?” Bobby interjected, looking nearly as excited.
“Oh, that,” he grunted, looking about at the hopeful faces.
Even Scott seemed not so eager to be rid of him. Jean was smiling, as if she already knew the answer. Peter was his usual stone-faced self, and Kitty, though she wouldn’t benefit from his tutelage, bounced along with Rogue.
“Looks like I’ll need a room on the teacher’s side of the hall.”
With a squeal of delight, Rogue launched herself into his arms, amid the chorus of congratulations from the others. The girl pulled away for a moment, meeting his eyes.
“Is that a promise?” she asked him softly.
Recalling that day on the train, when he’d promised to care for her, he nodded. The final nail went into his coffin as he spoke.
“Yeah, that’s a promise.”
~@~
It took Logan a few minutes to shake off the others, whom all agreed that a night out was just the thing needed to celebrate the addition of “Mr. Logan” to the teaching staff.
Not wanting to solidify any plans, Logan pawned them off with “we’ll see” and made a hasty escape to the second floor. On the pretense of needing a shower, he ducked into the hall that held the adults’ bedrooms, veering sharply from his door at the last moment.
It was a few meters to Storm’s door. He could smell her through the solid wood, hear her moving about in the room. She had waited, after all. Trampling the urge to kick the door in and throw her over his shoulder as though he were a caveman, he knocked quickly.
Ororo’s soft footsteps paused before rushing over to the door. She opened it slowly, smiling at him in greeting.
“Hello,” she said, opening the door a little wider.
“Hey,” he replied, stepping into her domain.
Once he was safely inside, Ororo closed the door behind him. To his surprise, she locked it as well before turning to him.
Taking a moment to look about her room, Logan smirked to himself. She had little purple flowers growing in potted plants all over. Tiny porcelain figurines of beautiful women with long hair and robes decorated her dresser and nightstand. The entire room was draped in soft fabrics of pale blue and creamy white. It was saturated with her scent. Any tension he had before entering faded away the second he was near her.
“They are goddesses,” she said softly.
He took up a blond figurine, tracing the curved edges gently with his fingers. “Pretty.”
She snorted with laughter, moving to him and taking the goddess from him.
“That is Venus, the Roman goddess of love.”
“Ah.”
Ororo placed the figurine back in place, fussing with it for a moment. He smiled when her back was turned, wondering how anal retentive she was about her things. She looked back up at him when she was through.
“Logan,” she began softly. “I need to know…”
He reached for her, burying a hand in her hair and pulling her close enough to rest his forehead against hers.
“I don’t know, ‘Ro. I don’t know a damned thing. I look at you, I smell you, and all I want to do is hold you. I can still feel that kiss from last night, I can remember the way you looked at me. All I want is more,” he whispered his confession, happy to have that off of his chest. “I couldn’t even sleep last night, thinkin’ about it.”
Her smile was shaky at best, her hand coming up to cover his.
“I feel exactly the same way…the day I bought you the cigar, the smell of the shop reminded me of you,” Ororo said slowly. “But…”
“No,” Logan stopped her. “No buts.”
“But,” she inflected the word carefully. “How do I know this isn’t a reaction to Jean?”
Logan paused, remembering the months during Jean’s absence, knowing that her choice had been made. He had not truly seen ‘Ro until long after that. Until that day he’d seen her in the storm, until he’d pinpointed her scent and realized that she had been there all along, buried in his mind.
“It’s not. I can’t make ya trust that, but we’ve got to start somewhere.”
She nodded, moving away from him, her brow furrowed as though she were thinking very hard about something. He gave her a moment to herself, knowing he could not push. Whatever they decided to do, it had to be done together.
“Will you do something for me?”
“Yes.”
Ororo turned back to face him, her eyes betraying a hint of trepidation, though her scent spoke volumes of her actual emotions. That rain scent was tinged with want, making his nostrils flare.
“I have to make sure this isn’t purely physical, for both of us,” she muttered. “Physical contact, for me, can be…”
“A disaster on the weather, I know,” he finished. “What is it?”
“Lay with me, talk with me about everything and nothing.”
“I can do that.”
“Without clothing.”
Logan felt his mouth fall open slightly at her words. She couldn’t be serious. He had never taken physical intimacy lightly, though he had urges. Like many animals, Wolverine had always assumed he would mate for life. Women did not take him on carelessly, as his control was close to nothing in the throes of passion.
Theoretically, Ororo’s suggestion made sense. On a practical side, it was laughable. Yes, he knew that they both had something to risk in the physical aspect of things. They both kept everything close to the vest.
“Logan?” she asked gently.
“I’d love to, but it’s not fair.”
“Fair?” she questioned indignantly.
He tapped his nose. “I can smell ya, ‘Ro. It’ll be hell on my restraint, which is touch and go at best.”
She colored prettily, looking away. Logan watched as she mulled things over in her head. He knew that somehow, they had to figure this out. Ororo was not so secure when it came to men, of this he was becoming aware. Logan was more comfortable with women, but he had always managed to run them off or find enough faults with them to keep them at arm’s length.
Something told him that if he did it with Ororo, he would regret it.
“We can try, ‘Ro. If my…animal instincts try to take over, we can stop it. I trust you to stop me,” he said at last.
Ororo moved back to him, taking his hands in hers. “I trust you to stop yourself.”
Nodding, his hands slid to the hem of his shirt.
Chapter Eleven: Not In Love by Gaineewop
Chapter Eleven: Not In Love
“You smell like rain.”
Ororo, propped against the headboard of her bed, raised a brow at Logan. His cheek lay against her bare belly, his muscular form sprawled across the width of her bed. They had been this way for hours without incident. At least she assumed it had been that long. The sun had set in the west some time ago, leaving them to the cool night air and the singing of crickets below them.
Logan had a strange need to touch her. While the gentle caress of his fingers never ventured too far, she wanted to groan with every touch. It was a simple thing, being touched and touching in return. And yet, for her it spoke more than a thousand volumes of romantic sonnets.
“I smell like rain?” she asked, wanting to laugh.
“Yeah. I couldn’t figure it out until that night you took off into the storm,” he answered, smiling against her skin.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yeah. Don’t ever wear perfume,” he looked up at her, shifting so that he could prop his elbow on the bed, half laying on her.
“I am allergic,” she explained. “My skin does not take artificial ingredients very well.”
“I’m allergic to shellfish,” he responded.
“Does that matter?” she raised a brow.
“Not really, no. I just heal anyway,” he grinned at her.
Ororo laughed. It was an unusual feeling. They were both as nude as the day they were born, stretched out on her bed and yet neither of them had made a single move toward the other.
In the first few minutes, Logan had seemed to hold on to his control by his fingernails. Ororo had to admit that the first sight of his naked body had nearly sent her into a lust-filled frenzy. He was strong, toned, and hairy. Everything that she loved about the male half of the species.
When they began to talk, it gradually eased his discomfort. At first, they kept the conversation limited to teaching, sitting on opposite sides of her bed. He had questions which she answered as well as she could, telling him that he would have to find his own way, as they all did.
Slowly, they moved on to more personal things, closer together, until nothing was off limits and he laid on her. The topic of her smell was not one she had been prepared for. His keen senses said she smelled like rain…there were worse things, she supposed.
“’Ro?”
“Yes, Logan?”
He reached out, touching her lips with a fingertip. He was warm and gentle this way, without the emotional armor he usually carried in spades. She assumed his guard was down for one reason; she was just as vulnerable as he.
“I like this.”
“What?”
“This. Being here just like this. Nothing between us.”
Ororo took his hand in hers, her fingers dancing over the back of his hand. She traced the lines where his claws lay dormant, awaiting action by command or instinct.
“I do too,” she agreed. “Though, once we have passed my exam, we can move on.”
A dark eyebrow raised in response to that. Ororo cast a quick glance down his body, biting her cheek when she noticed his arousal was stirring a little. Taking her eyes from that particular area she desperately wanted to discover, she settling back, letting his hand fall to her skin.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked curiously, unsure why that mattered.
“Because I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do at that point,” Logan replied, his hand sliding over the ripple of her ribcage.
“Good answer,” she smiled at him.
“Why did you kiss me?” he replied, tracing a circle over her belly.
“Because everything in my body needed more of you.”
“Better answer.”
“I try.”
They looked at one another in silence for a few moments. Her eyes kept his gaze, surprised by the level of emotion in them. Could she really enter a relationship with the Wolverine? Would he remain volatile, even with her? Or was his behavior now to be expected when they were alone?
In public, she had no desire for displays of affection. Those moments were supposed to be kept private. She knew, in her heart, that something in her yearned for this man, though how or why it had happened was a mystery. She could walk away now and never look back or she could take a chance. The choice was hers.
The more he looked at her that way, as though no one else on earth existed, the more she wanted to take the chance.
“Logan, I have not had a…lover in some time. I will not claim to be good at relationships, but if you are willing to try…” she trailed off, watching him.
“Does that mean we passed the test?” he smiled at her, tapping her on the tip of her nose gently.
“I think so.”
He was quiet for a moment before he nodded very slowly. “Yes, ‘Ro. I want to try. We could fuck everythin’ up, but damn it, I can’t just ignore it.”
Ororo gave him a mock glare, crossing her arms over her breasts. “I do hate it when you swear.”
Logan raised a brow, reaching up to move her arms. “Get used to it. I won’t change. And you better not.”
She fought a smile for a few moments, eventually giving in when he leveled her with that sly half-grin he seemed so fond of. Shaking her head, truly believing he was the most insufferable man on the face of the earth, she crooked a finger at him, beckoning her skyclad companion closer.
With slow, graceful movements, Logan slid up her body, making her bite her lip against the exquisite feeling of his flesh on hers. He turned, lying completely over her, threading his legs with hers.
“Kiss me,” she whispered when he was close enough, remembering the line from Casablanca. “Kiss me as if it were the last time.”
A soft growl left his lips at her breathy command. He nudged her nose with his, shifting so that he could brace his weight on his hands. Unconsciously, Ororo moved her legs apart, cradling him gently between her thighs. She heard him inhale sharply at the intimate contact, smirking a little to herself. She was playing with fire.
Logan’s lips found hers, stealing her breath and wiping any hint of humor from her lips. Yes, it was still the same. The hammering heartbeat, the tingle all over her skin, heightened by the feel of his naked body in her arms.
He pulled back, looking down at her. Ororo traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, marveling at the expression of awe she received.
“No one’s ever touched me like that. Like I’m worth somethin’,” he said, his voice rough.
“You are worth something, Logan. Worth more than all the diamonds in the world,” she replied, meaning it with everything in her.
“I’m grouchy, anti-social, and mean as hell. What’re you doin’ with me?”
“Mmm. I do not know, but I am willing to find out.”
Wind howled through her open balcony window, making them both turn toward the intrusion. Storm felt a distinct sting behind her eyes, the one that told her the hold on her mutation was weakening.
Logan raised a dark brow in her direction, his hand coming to rest on her hip.
“Hey, don’t do that, darlin’. It’s just me,” he told her gently.
“I know. It is…passion not fear that moves the winds,” she replied.
Closing her eyes, she brought a finger to her lips, as one would quiet a rowdy child. The winds died slowly, retreating back into the skies at their mistress’ dismissal.
“Passion, eh?” Logan’s hand snaked downward.
“Logan…”she warned, not opening her eyes.
“Let it howl, darlin’.”
Ororo opened her eyes, her hands moving to touch him as he had her. Pulling him closer, she shifted her legs, bringing them up to settle across his powerful thighs. It was madness, what this man did to her. One look, one growl from his throat and every hint of control snapped free.
She wanted this, something real and primitive as she. Logan answered that mating call with one of his own, surprising them both when they least expected it. She could feel him change in her arms, as though understanding that the test was over.
“’Ro,” his deep voice rumbled. “I think control’s a thing of the past.”
“Good,” she answered, rocking her hips deliberately. “Because I am through waiting.”
Logan’s response was not verbal. He growled a moment before his lips crushed hers, demanding she respond with equal passion. She felt her hold on the weather around them shake and though she felt responsible to hold on to them, she let it go.
The new few moments were a blur. Never had she released her mutation as quickly, allowing her mind to spill free of constraints, concentrating on the primal creature in her arms. Ororo groaned when Logan’s lips found the hollow of her neck, her fingers sliding into his hair and scratching that secret place behind his ear.
He groaned in approval, his hips arching into hers of their own accord. From that instant, she knew there could be nothing slow. He needed the release she had granted herself, permission to let go of everything society told him was wrong.
“Let it go, my Logan,” she whispered through his growls. “Let it go and feel with me.”
The look in his eyes changed from passionate to feral in the single beat of her heart. She was not afraid. She could never be afraid. Thunder rolled out of doors and lightning crashed through the previously beautiful night when she realized there was nothing holding them back.
Logan’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, mapping her skin as she tried to reach him. He inhaled deeply, as though trying to burn the scent of her into his mind as he touched her, finding all of those secret places on her body that drove her wild.
Whenever their mouths met, tongues dueled, teeth clashed and lips bruised. Ororo could only feel the heat of passion, gooseflesh racing along her skin as though wanting to have his attention next. He was as gentle as he could be, but she knew there would be marks on her in the morning.
She cried out when his hand slid to her core, his agile fingers exploring her intimately for a few moments. Wetness coated his fingers, slicking the tops of her thighs as she writhed beneath him. Without a doubt, she knew he would not last much longer and his claiming of her would be fierce.
The thought nearly sent her to oblivion on it’s own.
Clenching her teeth to quiet her moans of pleasure, Ororo watched Logan’s deadly hands work between her thighs. His fingers grazed the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of her folds before moving lower until a thick finger slid inside of her.
Crying out in her native Swahili, Ororo’s hips arched sharply off of the bed, only to be pushed back down by one of Logan’s hands. Her eyes closed tightly against the waves of pleasure, she did not notice Logan had moved until she felt the silken warmth of a tongue on her heated flesh.
Eyes snapping open in surprise, Ororo fisted her hands in the sheets, looking down her body to where Logan feasted. He was making a soft whimpering sound, as though in pain as he licked and nibbled at her clit, keeping her hips still by force.
Groaning his name, she reached for him, burying a hand in his hair to pull him closer. He was experienced, for that she was grateful. Electricity seemed to flow into her, white-hot light gathering behind her eyes even as the wind increased it’s persistent howl. Ororo turned her head, gasping into her pillow, hips bucking against Logan’s mouth as he drove her to the brink.
Wanting to scream, she climaxed a beat later, her body trembling as she tumbled into bliss. Logan’s mouth kept working, his tongue driving into her as though he would never be finished. Hissing against the aftershocks, she blinked her eyes open, breathing raggedly.
He pulled his head up, watching her and licking his lips as though he were a cat who got into the cream. In his eyes, ferocity and need warred with a hint of restraint. Wanting to give as much as she had received, Ororo untangled her legs from Logan’s shoulders and slowly rolled over onto her stomach.
Blushing, though that seemed ridiculous, at her boldness, she got up on her hands and knees, tossing her hair over her shoulder to look at him. The deliberate movement had put her backside in front of his face and she wiggled as though to entice him.
“Goddamn, ‘Ro,” he breathed, getting up onto his knees.
“Please,” she gasped, her body crying for more of him. “Do not hold back.”
“I’ll hurt you,” he protested, though his hands smoothed over her hips and bottom.
“I am stronger than I look, my darling. Take what is offered you,” Ororo insisted.
Without another word, Logan pushed two fingers into her, groaning against her skin. She gasped, pushing back onto his hand, biting her lip against the waves of desire. She could feel him move behind her, his legs pushing hers closer together so he could straddle them, his fingers still moving inside of her.
Crooning his name as though it were a prayer, she felt his hand leave her, before the tip of his arousal pushed at her entrance.
“Logan…”
She cried out when he buried himself inside with one sharp thrust. Fisting her hands in the sheets of her bed, she pushed back against him, her eyes crossing as he stretched her. Giving barely enough time for her to inhale, Logan moved again, his fingertips sinking into her hips as he pulled out to thrust back inside. He set a breakneck pace, hands guiding her movements as he took her. There was little gentleness in his touch and that fueled her own desire. Primal instincts taking over, wanting to be claimed as his, even as the wind screamed around them, drowning out any sounds from the world beyond her bedroom.
Logan’s guttural growls sent shivers through her. He took a hand from her hip, sliding it up her back and into her hair. She cried out when he tugged, hard, bringing her up from her hands to rest against his broad chest.
His lips claimed hers roughly, the motions of his hips never slowing as his tongue swept into her mouth. She wrapped an arm about his neck, holding on, freeing his hand to cup one of her breasts. He rolled a nipple between his fingers, groaning into her mouth when it pebbled under his touch.
Mind utterly gone, Ororo could only feel him, feel this undeniable heat between them. It was not moonlight and roses, but intimate on a completely real level. Logan’s mouth tore from hers, his hands releasing her as his every thrust grew more erratic. Sensing he was close to release, she unwrapped her arm from his neck, falling back onto her hands.
Meeting his every thrust with one of her own, Ororo looked over her shoulder at her lover, etching the image of his lust-filled eyes and red lips into her mind. He renewed his grip on her hips, pulling her to him with every movement of his hips, burying himself to the hilt as his growls increased.
She shifted her weight onto one hand, sliding the other down her body to where they joined, seeking her clit eagerly. Knowing her body, Ororo manipulated the nubbin quickly, more roughly than he had. His answering growl told her he could feel her body’s reactions.
Completely unaware of anything, save him, she forced herself to the brink for the second time, screaming his name into the winds as he arched rigidly behind her. He did not speak as he released inside of her, not that she would have heard him.
Second climax thrice as strong as the first, Ororo collapsed under him, eyes closed and body boneless. She felt the bed shake as he dropped beside her, heedless to the wind’s call for order.
“’Ro?” he said thickly a moment later.
Unable to move, she did not respond, basking in the glow of being completely satisfied.
“Darlin’, you’re gonna tear the mansion down around our ears.”
She felt a chuckle escape her lips, and reached for him. Logan rolled her over gently, his tenderness a little surprising in the aftermath of such a thorough lovemaking.
Cradled to her lover’s chest, Ororo attempted to soothe the winds. She could feel him laughing as she fought for control. Setting her jaw, she finally shouted into her bedroom, doing a fair imitation of Logan’s growl.
“SILENCE!”
The wind, thunder, and lightning obeyed instantly, leaving her room silent, save for the labored breathing of the two mutants on her bed. Ororo turned into Logan’s chest, snuggling as close as she could. With her head against his breast, she could hear the frantic pace of his heartbeat.
“Well, didn’t expect that,” he muttered sleepily.
“Neither did I. You are a bad influence on me,” she teased, kissing his sweat-slicked flesh to take any sting out of her words.
“Someone has to be round here. I’ll have you swearin’, smokin’, and drinkin’ in no time,” he responded, smiling into her hair.
“I think not,” Ororo shot back, reaching for the blankets to cover them.
There was a pregnant pause before Logan spoke again, this time carefully, as though expecting retaliation.
“I’m not in love with ya, ‘Ro,” he said quietly. “But I think, maybe, I could.”
She did not reply for a few moments, threading her fingers into the thick hair of his chest, mulling over his words. There was no reason for anger, she had not expected confessions of undying love, offers of marriage, children, a home with a picket fence, a minivan and a golden retriever. Not from Logan. Truthfully, she did not want those things. She had responsibilities to her students, to this fight. That would always take precedence.
“I am not in love with you either,” she said at last. “Perhaps, one day, but certainly not now.”
Logan pulled her closer beneath the covers. She could hear him inhale deeply and smiled. She smelled like rain and he liked that smell. Sighing in his arms, she allowed sleep to carry her away, wondering what tomorrow would hold.
~@~
“A neon sign on your forehead would be subtler, darlin’,” Logan’s voice was filled with humor as Ororo attempted to comb her hair without grinning.
“You should speak, Logan. Wipe that smirk from your face or everyone will know!” she shot back, staring at him in the mirror as he dressed.
“It’s past noon already, ‘Ro. They know we’re up to somethin’,” he pulled a shirt over his chest and then set about buckling his belt.
Ororo tried, very hard, to keep the smile from covering her lips, but her face was not cooperating. Waking with him in her arms, knowing he had made it through at least one night without the bane of nightmares had been comforting. In the dark, he had reached for her twice. Once for comfort, and once for pleasure.
She had happily obliged on both accounts. Logan had surprised her, both with his restraint and his need to simply have her in his arms. It was the sort of thing she would have never expected and it was nearly unbearable the way she wanted to ignore the world to stay with him here.
“Beside that, ya whipped up one hell of a storm last night,” he continued, sitting on her bed to tie his boots.
Turning from the mirror, she pulled up her collar to hide the dark purple love bite on her collarbone, biting her lip against the flash of memory seeing it conjured. Logan already had a cigar between his teeth, pilfered from his own bedroom when he slipped out to retrieve clothing.
She did not mind the smoke, nor the thought that her room was to smell of it for days. It was his smell, a trademark that told her this was not a dream. He had been there, with her, all night. Taking a few steps to him, Ororo put her hands to his cheeks, drawing his face up to her.
His hands slid up to grasp her hips, pulling her a little closer. Ororo raised a brow at him, taking the cigar from his mouth and holding it out of the way as she stole a quick kiss.
“That’s mine,” he grumbled, nodding to the cigar.
“Yes, and it is a disgusting habit, my Logan,” she inflected his name gently, liking the way it sounded with that innocent “my” attached to it.
“How in hell did I get from Wolverine to “my Logan”?” he asked, raising a brow.
Ororo shrugged, slipping the cigar back between his teeth. “I do not know for certain, but I do hope we stay here.”
“Mmm. Me too,” he inhaled from his cigar, winking at her as he swatted her backside.
She yelped a little in surprise, succeeding in making him chuckle at the glare she leveled at him. Ororo stepped away, reminding herself that if she spent all day in her bedroom, wrapped around Logan, there would be talk. He stood as well, moving into her adjoining bathroom.
Taking her boots from under the bed, she pulled them on, looking up at Logan as he brushed his teeth. She tilted her head, taking in the masculine silhouette of his body, wanting to drool at what she now knew was underneath.
“’Ro?”
“Yes?” she snapped back to reality, shaking her head and tying her bootlace.
Logan turned the water of her sink off, lounging in the doorway of her bathroom. His face had a slightly confused look to it as she looked up.
“No lying,” he said softly. “I don’t want to broadcast this to everyone, but I don’t want you to have to lie.”
“Oh Logan,” she stood, crossing the room quickly to embrace him.
She heard him inhale sharply, as he did so often in her presence. Kissing his cheek, she smiled warmly, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck.
“Thank you. I am not one for publicity, but I do not wish to deceive anyone.”
“Good, now that’s settled. Come on, I’m starving,” he took her hand and pulled her to the bedroom door.
“Did you work up an appetite?” she teased with a bat of her lashes.
“Yeah, and I’m aimin’ to work up another one tonight,” Logan winked before he opened the door, sniffing quickly.
“Is the coast clear?” she whispered, taking her hand from his.
“Yeah. You go, I’ll follow,” he ducked back into the room, pulling her to his chest for another heart-stopping kiss before releasing her quickly.
“Mmm,” she hummed, not wanting to go. “I like your lips.”
Logan groaned, pushing her away. “Don’t do that, ‘Ro. We have to face them all sometime.”
With a giddy sigh, Ororo took her chance and fled the bedroom. Taking a moment to ensure she looked relatively calm, she headed for the stairs, trying to keep the grin from her face.
The kitchen was populated at this time of day, with the exception of Charles, everyone milled about the sunny room, chatting amicably. Rogue had the long-corded phone to her ear and was laughing at something the person on the line had said.
Jean and Scott were manning the stove while Kitty and Peter set the table. Bobby was waist-deep into the industrial size fridge. She tickled him as she passed, not able to contain the utter feeling of being sixteen Logan had given her.
“Yah did not! Ah can’t believe that, Kurt. That’s fantastic. Yeah….yeah…” Rogue laughed hysterically.
Storm walked up to the Southern girl, leaning over so that she could speak into the phone.
“Hello, Kurt,” she greeted, winking at Rogue.
“He says hello and he hopes you are well,” Marie said after a moment.
“I am, and he?”
“Fantastic!”
“Good.”
“Logan!”
Ororo turned when Logan entered the room, somehow managing to look grumpy, though she knew for a fact he was anything but. She winked at him quickly before squirming her way into place at the stove between Scott and Jean.
“Someone’s in a mood,” Jean said, looking over.
Scott remained silent, sending off warning bells in Ororo’s head. Scott always had something to say. She poked him in the side.
“Oversleep?” he questioned, keeping his face expressionless.
“In a manner of speaking,” Storm replied.
“What’s for lunch?” Logan asked, poking his head over Jean’s shoulder as he lounged against the counter, beer in hand.
“Shrimp Gumbo,” the telepath replied. “Peter got to choose today.”
Logan grunted, his eyes straying to Ororo. She glared at him. It was irrational, not wanting him that close to Jean, but given the history, she could not help it. She desperately wanted to grab Logan by the collar and kiss him thoroughly, letting Jean know she had lost her chance.
Coloring at the ridiculous turn her thoughts had taken, Ororo turned from the stove in time to see Rogue hanging up the phone, a pleased smile on her face. The young girl moved to Bobby, helping him set out drinks for the afternoon meal.
Henry looked at Ororo from his place at the table, raising a brow. She watched his eyes dart from Logan and back, obviously asking her if something was amiss. Grinning, she shrugged, moving around Jean and Logan to sit beside him.
“Are you well, my dear friend?” Henry asked in a soft voice.
“Quite,” she replied, taking the silverware from Peter and setting it down.
“You look…rested,” her friend said diplomatically.
“I did get a very good rest last evening.”
Henry snorted into his glass of lemonade, blinking at her owlishly. Ororo grinned at him again, just as Bobby looked over his shoulder.
“Storm, were you in a bad mood or something last night? That thunderstorm nearly took my window off.”
Henry and Logan choked on their respective drinks in unison, making Scott turn. Jean’s shoulders were shaking with what Ororo guessed was laughter. Obviously she had caught on. The others, however, looked from Beast, to Storm, and then Wolverine.
“Not a bad mood, no,” Storm said primly. “Every person, human or mutant needs a release now and again.”
Logan smirked quickly from the stove, covering it when Scott looked at him. Pointing a wooden spoon from Ororo to Logan, he frowned.
“I know you two have some sort of thing with nature and all, but I don’t want you getting out of hand with your moonlit romps in the woods. It’s dangerous, Storm, you know that,” their leader said, giving her a pointed look.
Storm took the glass of lemonade from Bobby, looking back to Henry, whom was shaking his head.
“All of that training and not a hint of common sense in that boy.”
“He will understand in time, my friend. And when he does, I am quite sure I will receive the lecture of lectures.”
Henry raised his glass to her. “Until that unfortunate occurrence, enjoy it, my dear.”
Ororo clinked her glass with his, smiling over her shoulder at Logan. “I will, my friend, trust me on that.”
Chapter Twelve: Paradise Lost by Gaineewop
Chapter Twelve: Paradise Lost
Logan inhaled deeply from his cigar, watching the throngs of people on the dance floor of the smoky club the X-Men had decided on.
Decided on was not the right word, exactly. Kitty and Rogue and cajoled, coerced and otherwise begged for Logan’s celebratory evening to take place in the “hottest” new club in town. The adults, of course, had been slightly less than amused by the suggestion, but they were all slaves to the will of their young friends.
The “party” was in honor of Logan’s appointment as Physical Education/Combat Training instructor as well as a sort of going away for Kitty, whom was due to leave Xavier’s school on Tuesday. He watched her now, with Peter, dancing to the irritating electronic throb called music blaring from dozens of speakers.
Ororo was on the dance floor as well, much to Logan’s displeasure. Scott had his hands in a rather innocent place, and still he wanted to rip the bastard’s throat out. Jean sat across from him at the table, smiling sweetly as her fiancée rubbed up against Logan’s girl.
When did she become my girl?, he thought with an inward frown.
Rogue and Bobby were among the dancers as well, laughing and having a good time with their friends. Occasionally, one of the younger boys would steal Storm from Scott, making her laugh loudly as they fought over her.
“Another drink, Logan?” Jean asked as the waitress approached them.
He shook his head, pinching the cigar between his teeth. “Nah. Waste of perfectly good liquor.”
Jean smirked, touching the waitress’ arm. “He’ll have a beer, another Greygoose Martini, a Scotch on the rocks, and a white wine spritzer should do it. Thank you.”
Logan gave Jean a half-scowl, nodding to the empty glasses as the tight-skirt wearing waitress moved on, giving him a rather smoldering look. He almost laughed in her face before speaking to his companion.
“Don’t think ‘Ro and One-Eye have had enough?” he indicated to the two on the dance floor.
The red haired telepath laughed, shaking her head. “Not at all. So long as the weather’s holding up, Ororo is just fine and Scott isn’t falling over yet.”
Logan grunted, turning his eyes to Ororo. She was looking at him, her eyes betraying her true thoughts…things that she promised him silently. He grinned in response, knowing it would be an enthusiastic evening when they returned home. His need to reclaim and Ororo’s responsive nature would make things noisy indeed. Logan tipped his cigar to her.
It had been nearly two weeks since that first night in her arms. They were careful around the others, never touching for longer than was polite, words friendly, but not personal. All of that was tucked away for the quiet hours of dark, where they were free to be themselves.
His nightmares had not vanished though they had ebbed slightly. Ororo’s comforting scent and reassuring touches always woke him before he could get into the meat of desperate cries. She would fold him into her embrace, the soothing beat of her heart lulling him back to sleep.
On the third night together, Logan had to calm her nightmares. He had awoken to her frantic whimpering and breathy whispers of fear. The wind had howled for her, making his blood run cold. What disturbed her so in sleep? Before him, had she woken this way, crying into the night, aching for someone to ease her pain?
That night, he had asked her about the time in his bedroom, when she had been afraid of looking at him. She confessed in her timid whisper that he had spoken that night, begging for someone to stay with him, yelling for an evil to release her. Surprised, he remembered that nightmare the moment she confessed. A long dark hall, a light at the end of the tunnel, the deep-rooted fear that the darkness would consume him had come rushing back to him.
He was still puzzling the part about ‘Ro out. Something told him she had not been present, merely represented. The light, perhaps? That bright light had beckoned to him, but someone was taking it.
Shaking his head, he took the fresh beer the waitress brought him with a silent nod, tipping it back eagerly. Tight-skirt Waitress batted her heavily made-up eyelashes at him, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
Logan tilted his head, then gave her a feral grin, flashing her a mouthful of sharp teeth. “You ain’t woman enough to handle me, girl.”
He heard Jean snort into her drink as the offended, and perhaps even frightened, girl moved on, tossing him a dirty look. Pleased with himself, Logan waggled his eyebrows at Jean.
“Could have been fun though.”
She laughed heartily at this. “I wouldn’t let Storm hear that, your skeleton might make too good an electric conductor.”
Uncomfortable discussing his…relationship with Storm with Jean, he looked away. It was current gossip all over the mansion as of late, but that did not make it all right for anyone to bring it up. Jean was only allowed because he knew for a fact that Ororo told her more than anyone else.
“She might,” he agreed curtly.
“Come on, Logan. I’m not trying to pry here. I think it’s great, actually,” she smiled kindly at him. “I’ve never seen so many cloudless summer days in all the years I’ve known her.”
He had to hide a smirk at that. Even Henry had begun complaining that his tomato crop was dying in the suddenly perfect weather, no matter what the forecast said. He’d have to talk to Ororo about letting a little rain in every now and then.
Learning the weather patterns in regards to her moods was helpful. Many men had to guess at their lover’s mood, but all Logan had to do was look outside, most days. Though Ororo kept herself in check, he knew she was happy by the utter lack of anything resembling bad weather near the mansion. Tears and sadness came with rain, anger with lightning, fear with thunder, and “ to his amazement “ howling wind screamed passion.
That one he was extremely familiar with.
“And I’ve never seen you so relaxed,” Jean continued, sipping her white wine thing she dared call a drink.
“Jeanie, I don’t want to be rude, but shut up,” he smiled quickly. “Not right now, ok?”
She nodded, winking at him. “I’m here, if either of you need anything.”
“Not another word, Red, I’m warning you,” Logan countered.
“Ooh. Storm! Logan’s being mean!” she called in a sing-song voice, though there was no way she could have been heard over the music.
He chuckled a bit, just as he wound up with his arms full of Kitty. The girl was hysterical and Bobby not much better.
“I’m s-sorry, Wolverine,” she gasped, trying to right herself. “I tripped.”
“S’alright,” he said, holding his cigar away from her hair so it wouldn’t burn. “What’s wrong with you two?”
Bobby grinned, downing his soda quickly. “Rogue scared the crap out of Peter. He forgot that her new body stocking is almost clear and she touched his face.”
Kitty laughed harder, on her own feet at last, gripping the table. “You had to be there,” she gasped.
Jean giggled girlishly opposite of Logan, whom dismissed the entire thing with a sigh. Kids. He was surrounded by kids.
Bobby and Kitty took their seats, breathing hard as they swayed to the music. Jean was still watching Scott and Ororo, whom seemed to be talking while dancing. Judging from the look on Storm’s face, she was incredibly amused by whatever he was saying.
“Hey is that…” Bobby’s voice brought Logan from his careful study of Ororo’s legs in her slinky black trousers and bare belly.
“Who?”
It was then that Logan detected a familiar voice, tinged with fear. A sniff of the air told him Rogue was nearby, though he couldn’t see her. Casting a glance to Jean, Logan stood, joined by Bobby a moment later.
“Let me go! Ah mean it!” Rogue was saying, her voice muffled by music and random conversation.
Iceman gripped Logan’s arm, pointing across the dance floor. “Logan, it’s John. Pyro.”
Following the kid’s gaze, Logan growled menacingly, fists clenching. Pyro had Rogue against him on the dance floor, rubbing against her eagerly as the girl tried to escape. Peter was no where to be found.
“Jean?” Logan asked, knowing the response was going to be bad.
“We’ve got company, Logan. Pyro, Mystique, and at least two others I don’t know,” she replied, standing as well.
“Damn. Kitty, Bobby, go get Storm and Cyclops, try not to draw attention. Pyro doesn’t know we’ve seen him. Go!” Logan ordered quickly, watching the kids meet in front of him, then dance into the crowd.
He’d lost sight of Scott and Ororo at some point. Pyro still had his hands on Rogue and she was looking around desperately, as though waiting for someone to come to her rescue. Logan started over, Jean at his side, not releasing his claws. Hopefully, they could get out of this without a fight. There were too many innocent people around to start throwing mutations around.
No sooner had he thought that statement, he felt an oddly familiar hand on his arm, coupled with a disgustingly acidic scent.
Mystique.
He turned, swinging his adamantium-laced fist as hard as he could. A thundering cry of rage greeted his punch as the naked blue mutant dodged him, leaping toward him, eyes filled with murder.
Jean was ready for her, catching the woman in midair before throwing her across the dance floor. Mystique’s body slammed into the wall with a sickening thud and she lay still. Wolverine raised a brow.
“That was for the little stunt with Cerebro,” Phoenix explained, her entire body taking on a glow.
Wolverine nodded. “Ok.”
Snikt!
Claws released as the crowd of humans screamed, rushing for the entrance. Jean, wreathed in flame, took to the air, hovering above the crowd and attempting to locate their friends.
“Wolverine! I can’t see Storm, but Scott has Pyro. Rogue and Colossus are with him,” the Phoenix said from her perch. He’d have to ask her about that someday.
“Iceman and Shadowcat?”
“There!” she pointed. “They’ve got something on them…what the hell?”
Surprised to hear Jean cursing, Logan bolted in the direction she had indicated. He dodged people as best he could, ensuring he did not injure them in his pursuit. The club hoppers were quickly thinning, allowing Wolverine to spot his younger friends.
He pulled up short, blinking rapidly. There was a strange silver ring around a very confused Iceman and Shadowcat. Wolverine attempted to follow the blur, only succeeding in making himself dizzy. It had to be a person…something.
“Iceman! Stop that damn thing!” Wolverine yelled over the din of pounding feet and horrified screams.
“I don’t think so, Wolverine,” a sultry female voice said from behind him. “Quicksilver is taking care of the baby X’s.”
Turning slowly, Wolverine moved into a crouch, noting a pretty young girl standing behind him as though she was a queen. Her red hair fell down her back in waves, her eyes glinting with hatred.
“You know my name, girlie, but I don’t know yours,” he growled, moving around her, testing her, wondering what kind of mutation he would have to battle.
“Scarlet Witch,” she intoned regally. “Remember it…”
Her hand lashed out at him, releasing some kind of power he could not see. Wolverine dodged it easily. A line of flame shot behind the girl, and Wolverine watched Cyclops fall into a table, splintering it easily.
With a feral snarl, Wolverine advanced on Scarlet Witch, only to be hit by something directly in the chest.
Electricity ripped through him, the pain filtering into every one of his limbs. He groaned through the pain, attempting to move as the bolt of whatever she’d hit him with continued to wrack through his body, no matter how fast he healed.
She smirked at him. The twist of her lips was cold, methodical, as though she were an empty shell. It sent a chill up Wolverine’s spine. This woman was not full of rage or contempt, she was simply…there. He tried to stand again, looking about for his teammates.
An eerie metallic sound appeared out of nowhere, heralding the arrival of Colossus. The girl had no chance to counter him. He simply walked up behind her, grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off of her feet. She struggled even as the enormous metal man hit the top of her head carefully, knocking her out cold. Colossus tossed her aside simply, as he would a rag doll, taking a step to his teammate.
The vice of pain left Wolverine a moment later and he struggled to sit up. He started as a sheet of ice covered the floor, coupled with a long, lanky body slipping over it. Once on his feet, Wolverine spotted Shadowcat coming up from the floor. She kicked the surprised “Quicksilver” directly in the mouth with a stunning roundhouse. He faltered, leaving Kitty the perfect opening for a killer right hook.
The boy, too, was out cold.
“What the hell was that?” Wolverine and Iceman said at once, staring at one another.
“Scarlet Witch.”
“Quicksilver.”
Shrugging at their sudden knack for speaking at the same time, they turned, searching for the others.
Phoenix had Pyro cornered, Cyclops had managed to get to his feet and Rogue was behind Colossus, but there was no sign of Storm anywhere. Panicking a little, Logan tested the air, hoping to find her scent amid the plethora of others wafting through the now deserted nightclub.
“Enough!”
The booming voice of Magneto rang through the ruckus, halting even the staggering Mystique as she tried to stand. Wolverine slid his claws back into place, standing in front of Iceman and Shadowcat, flanked by Cyclops and Colossus, who pushed Rogue behind him protectively.
A low hum accompanied the leader of the Brotherhood as he descended from the gaping roof of the club, his scarlet and black cloak fluttering in a non-existent breeze. He looked ridiculous, but Logan thought now wasn’t the time to say that.
He had to find Storm.
Magneto turned to Phoenix, whom held a startled Pyro aloft. Unafraid, she glared right back at their nemesis. The older mutant, shook his head at her.
“Jean Grey, back from the dead and still intent on fighting the good fight,” he sighed. “Release Pyro.”
“No,” Phoneix shot back.
“Release him or I will kill your weather witch,” Magneto returned with a flippant gesture.
Wolverine swallowed a cry of horror when he heard a distinct scream. Magneto displayed a round, metallic chamber, obviously stripped from a nearby wall. Inside it, Logan could hear a terrified scream, coupled with agonized sobbing. It was Storm.
He felt a hand on his arm, holding him back. Colossus.
“Stay back. Rushing now will not save her.”
Not willing to risk losing Ororo, Logan kept himself in check, his eyes darting to Jean. The red haired Phoenix dropped Pyro instantly, her eyes wide with horror.
“Please…you don’t understand,” she choked, lowering herself to the ground.
“Understand what?” Magneto questioned menacingly, whipping the metallic prison around in a tight circle.
“I let him go! Please! Let her out!” Jean screamed, her eyes wet with tears.
Magneto flicked his hand, tossing the chamber directly at Jean. The Phoenix covered herself quickly with that stunning wreath of flame, falling back as she was slammed into the wall.
Cyclops screamed with fury, only to be stopped by Iceman. Their leader slipped on a stream of ice, falling directly into Colossus’ waiting arms.
The evil mutants gathered beside their leader, smirking at them all. Wolverine almost stepped forward to slice them all to pieces. Only Storm’s screams halted his murderous rage. Before he could do anything about them, he had to get to her.
“I did not intend for them to fight you here,” Magneto was saying. “I stopped this only because they have work to do. You will not be spared next time.”
With that, Magneto waved a hand, a magnetic field sending every X-Man flying backward, into the wall. Logan’s adamantium filled body struck the hardest, cracking the wall and throwing debris all over.
When they managed to stand, the Brotherhood was gone.
“Storm?” Wolverine darted across the decimated dance floor. “Jean?”
A cough. Before he could reach the metal chamber Magneto had manipulated to contain Ororo, he watched it shiver then rise as Jean stood from her place beneath it. Surprised, Logan felt his eyes go wide.
“I shielded myself. Can you open this thing?” she said impatiently, settling the chamber on the floor gently.
There was a ringing silence in place of Storm’s screams. Not knowing what on earth was going on, Logan shook his head.
“I might hit her. Kitty!”
The girl was already moving toward them at a run. Wolverine watched with an odd sort of fascination as she closed her eyes, hands extended and pushed herself into the chamber. Waiting with bated breath, the entire team watched the hunk of metal expectantly, even as sirens wailed in the distance.
Kitty emerged a moment later, her arms around a limp Ororo. “I can’t get her to talk!”
Aware that they would soon be facing a horde of police, Logan scooped his lover into his arms and nodded to the far wall. Colossus trotted to the thick stone, even as Iceman raised a hand to freeze it over.
Seconds later, the two had fashioned them an escape. Just as the police careened into the parking lot, two cars sped into the night, heading back to their haven in Westchester.
~@~
Storm lay on Logan’s bed, her arms around his pillow, tears accompanying the rain that fell in a steady beat outside. It had taken the combined forces of Chuck and Jean to draw Ororo from her hiding place within her mind. She had screamed, releasing a violent storm over the entire mansion before Hank managed to sedate her.
Once she woke, she burst into tears, calling for him. Having not left the infirmary since their arrival, he soothed her as best he could, though he did not understand what had happened to her.
The others left Ororo in his care once Hank declared she was able to leave the infirmary. Logan had helped her back into the mansion, glaring at anyone that approached. For some reason, Storm had completely flipped out and until he knew why, he was not going to let her out of his sight or allow anyone to speak with her.
She had been silent for a while, watching him move around his bedroom. He changed into pajamas, offering her one of his long, flannel shirts to wear in lieu of her clubbing gear. Pouting, she had sat up, holding her arms out to him. Worried, Logan had changed her clothes for her, leaving her bare beneath his shirt and adding socks, though he was fully aware of her immunity to cold.
One of the perks of knowing Ororo intimately was the nuggets of information he could retain about her. She liked socks, so he made sure she had some.
He sat now on the floor beside his bed, laying his head on the edge so he could watch her. Ororo had frozen when he’d tried to settle behind her, so he’d just let it lie, sitting as close as he could without her panicking.
Every salty tear that traveled down her cheek cut him deeply. With every tear, he vowed to murder Magneto if it was the last thing he ever did. Entertaining thoughts of keeping him alive for weeks to draw it out made him want to smirk.
“I was looking for Peter,” she said suddenly, her usually strong voice wavering. “I could not find him immediately and ducked into the restrooms, hoping to find him there. I heard explosions and screaming, but when I tried to leave the restroom, I ran into Magneto.”
Logan reached up, taking her hand, which held the pillow like a vice. “I’m here, ‘Ro. Go on.”
She inhaled shakily, releasing it a few seconds later. “He asked what I was doing all alone…and then…the darkness. It was so small…”
“Shh, it’s all right, darlin’,” he whispered, the last piece of his puzzle falling into place. “Claustrophobic?”
She nodded, gripping his hand tightly. “Y-Yes. Severely, as a matter of fact. I have battled it…all my life.”
Sympathy flooded his heart. No wonder she didn’t want him too close. After being locked in Magneto’s steel prison, she wouldn’t want anything too small for a good while. He scooted a bit closer to the bed, kissing her hand gently.
“I didn’t know that, ‘Ro. All I could hear was you screamin’ an’ it tore my heart out,” he said quietly.
Ororo smiled warmly at him. “I am sorry I worried you.”
“No,” he growled. “Don’t be sorry. It’s that bastard Magneto who’s gonna be sorry. First Rogue, now you. He’s askin’ for a guttin’.”
Storm bit her lip, fighting a grin. He kissed her nose gently, his heart still screaming murder for anyone that made Ororo cry. She inched further on the edge of the bed, touching her forehead to his.
“I was a little girl when it started,” she whispered, her tone filled with sorrow. “My father was a photojournalist and we went to Cairo for an assignment of his.”
He squeezed her hand, letting her know it was all right to continue. Logan wanted to know these things about her, to understand her. Protect her. He knew things now, but the only time she had spoken about her life before the X-Men was when he had asked about her time as a “goddess”.
“Egypt was in the middle of war,” Ororo went on, wincing as though the very memory hurt her physically. “An airplane was deflected by anti-missile weaponry and it crashed into our apartment building.”
“Good God,” Logan clamped his mouth closed, not wanting to interrupt her.
“The building shook so violently,” his lover choked a bit. “Mama tried to protect me from the rubble, and Papa tried to find a good place to hide. But the building came down around our ears. Mama managed to get me out of the way of the falling ceiling, but I was trapped.”
“It was so quiet,” Ororo inhaled sharply. “Mama and Papa were only a few feet from me and they were alive for a time. Mama reached to me with her last breath and my father cried openly, even through his pain. He died a short time later, his last words were my mother’s name…and mine.”
His heart was aching. This had to be the most painful thing he had ever heard anyone tell him. Watching her parents die, as a little girl, with tons of rubble trapping her with their bodies. He wanted to vomit.
“It took them hours to find me. I was stuck under a piece of ceiling and the wall. It was so small…all I could do was stare at my parents’ bodies as the walls seemed to close in around me,” she sighed deeply. “From then on, I was terrified of being trapped.”
“I can see why,” Logan said quietly, renewing his vow to gut Magneto like a fish. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Her lovely lips curved into a small smile. Logan noted the rain outside was subsiding, telling him Ororo was coming back from her terrified state.
“When? Logan, we have been wrapped up in one another,” she whispered. “We have not even noticed that Jean has not been sleeping and Scott is coming apart at the seams. Peter is retreating into a hole because Kitty is leaving, before they could even explore what they have to offer one another. When is the last time you sat down and talked with Rogue?”
He scowled. Just like her. She comes out of a horrible experience, cries for hours, tells him a heartbreaking story about her childhood and then comes up with a list of problems everyone else is having.
“We can worry about them tomorrow, darlin’,” he grunted, sliding his hand to her back, rubbing her gently. “Right now, I want you to get some sleep.”
Ororo’s smile was sleepy, as though his words had triggered her exhaustion. He reached over her slender form, grabbing the blankets and tucking her in, mentally laughing at himself. He couldn’t help it, not when she seemed so fragile and afraid.
“Thank you, for taking care of me,” she murmured, snuggling further into his pillow.
“Anytime, darlin’,” he replied, kissing her hair gently.
He stayed there with her for a long while, watching as the light changed behind his curtains. Once he was certain she had fallen asleep, he ducked out of his bedroom, grabbing Bobby in the hall.
“Bobby?”
The half-asleep boy jumped in his skin, startling awake. “Yeah?”
“Do me a favor, go into my room, don’t touch anything and sit on the floor by my dresser. If Storm wakes up, call me. If she has a nightmare, call me. If she twitches in a way that looks strange…”
“Call you,” Bobby supplied easily. “Where are you going?”
Logan’s voice shifted into a growl. “Danger Room.”
Chapter Thirteen: Ferocity by Gaineewop
Chapter Thirteen: Ferocity
Ororo came awake slowly, surrounded by the familiar scent of lingering cigar smoke. She buried her face in the pillow, opening one eye in the search for Logan. He had been her rock during the worst of her attack, keeping her as calm as he could when she woke in the infirmary screaming.
The horror of being locked within Magneto’s steel prison had caught her by surprise. While she braced herself during every mission, having him simply there, and then the walls surrounding her had been a shock to her system. Years battling her phobia had been made moot by a flick of the misguided man’s wrist.
Logan had been there through all of it. She had heard his voice even in her catatonic state. He was calling to her, urging her to come back. In medicated sleep, she dreamed of him, pulling her from the rubble of that apartment building in southern Cairo. Saving her as he always did.
Eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight pouring in through his window, Ororo stretched languidly, smiling to herself when she remembered he had dressed her in his own shirt, ensuring she had a pair of wooly socks on her feet. Such tenderness from their resident Wolverine she would have never expected nearly a year ago.
Ororo frowned when she noted Bobby was in the room, his back against the cherry wood of Logan’s dresser. She turned onto her side, covering herself carefully before the boy woke. He was still in his nightclothes, though the sun told her it was late afternoon.
“Bobby?”
The boy woke up with a start, blinking rapidly as he searched for her. Ororo smiled warmly, waving at him. He cracked a sleepy grin.
“Oops. I was supposed to call Logan when you woke up. Guess I fell asleep,” he muttered sheepishly.
“Where is he?” she asked, wondering what could have drawn Logan from his position as her personal bodyguard.
Bobby yawned. “He said something about the “danger room” and he looked ready to slice open the next person who looked at him funny.”
She threw back the covers, swinging her legs over the edge of Logan’s bed, shaking her head when Bobby’s eyes went wide.
“Oh stop it, Bobby. You’ve seen me by the pool, have you not?” she looked about the room, locating a pair of her blue jeans that Logan had no doubt taken from her bedroom.
“Right…erm… should I call him then?”
“No. I’ll go find him. Thank you for keeping watch,” she replied, giving him a small smile.
“Sure, glad you’re ok,” Bobby smiled, heading for the door.
Once he was gone, Ororo threw on her blue jeans and followed, creeping through the house so she could locate Logan without running into anyone. It was oddly quiet, hinting that everyone was either outside or too consumed with their thoughts to behave normally. Sighing, she turned the corner that would lead her to the elevator.
The Danger Room. Logan had mentioned that project of his and Scott’s enough times to pique her interest, but she had never learned more of it. The two kept it a guarded secret, even from Jean. Ororo knew this training room was in the lower levels and her best chance to find her lover was near the panels she had found him in the day of the movie.
Of course, that meant she had to brave the confines of the elevator.
Inhaling deeply, she took another step, blinking when vertigo made the room shift and sway. She grit her teeth together, forcing her feet to move again. The room spun, but she continued, forcing her fear away as best she could. If Logan was not below and sensed her fear, he would come to her rescue, claws flashing.
“Fear is not my master,” she whispered the words automatically. “I am my own master, fear does not control me.”
She pushed the elevator door open, closing her eyes when the tiny space made her want to scream. “I will conquer fear as I would any enemy. With determination, grace, and courage.”
The elevator doors hissed closed. Ororo fought to control her breathing, not opening her eyes or touching the walls. She muttered her mantra over and over, proud that she had made it this far on her own. For some reason, her need to find Logan overpowered her intense fear. That worried her a little.
Hissing doors slid open and Ororo stepped out of the elevator by memory, quirking one eye open when she knew she was clear. Grinning with triumph, she took a sharp left, heading toward the doors opposite of Cerebro.
Sounds of metal slicing metal met her ears as she navigated the newly installed corridor, thanking Charles silently for ensuring the walls gave her wide berth. She followed the sounds of metallic clinking, passing the panels where she had come upon Logan and Scott that fateful day. Enraged snarling drifted down the hall as she got closer, her brow furrowing with concern. Logan was fighting…but fighting whom?
She searched the wall for a panel, using a small electric current enclosed in her palm to search for an opening. It took her several minutes, pressed against the wall, following Logan’s growling voice, until she found what she was looking for.
The secured panel smoothly slid open as she pressed on it.
“Vocal Authorization Required,” she read aloud from the panel.
Assuming the men had designed this room to unlock for all X-Men command codes, she cleared her throat.
“Authorization Code: Storm-delta-five-zulu.”
A low hum announced the computer processing her command and a moment later, a large door hissed open to her right. She curiously peered in as the feral sounds of Logan’s battle heightened with the open doorway.
Toying with the hem of Logan’s shirt, Ororo stepped through the doorway, blinking with shock, mouth falling open in horror.
Single-handedly, Wolverine battled the Brotherhood, complete with two mutants she did not recognize as well as Sabretooth and Toad. Eyes round as dinner plates, Storm paused at the edge of the room, watching the battle play out before her, hands covering her mouth.
Obviously, this was not the actual Brotherhood. Sabretooth and Toad had been killed at Liberty Island, or so they all thought. She still had nightmares of Victor Creed’s horrifying voice begging her to scream, of her brief fight with Toad.
Snarling with rage, Wolverine pounced on Sabretooth, sinking all six-adamantium blades deep into the mutant’s chest. Sabretooth howled in agony, attempting to throw his attacker off.
Magneto raised his hands, flinging her lover against the far wall. Storm bit her lip, not wanting to distract him even as he leaped to his feet, glaring at the form of their enemy. It was pure, feral, hatred that glowed in Logan’s dark eyes, a look she had never seen before. It terrified her.
This was what he feared, she realized. The animal within, the ferocity of his darker self that always bubbled close to the surface. With wide eyes, Ororo watched Wolverine smoothly dispatch a red-haired woman, throwing her limp body to the ground with a howl. It sent chills down her spine to see him this way. So much pain and anger flowing through him that it physically hurt her to watch.
Toad was next. Wolverine sliced his tongue into six chunks with a feral grin, stabbing the amphibian-like mutant slowly, as though he relished it. Ororo felt her heart stop when he growled, low in his chest.
Magneto and a young man who moved quicker than Ororo could see advanced on him. Wolverine was not so fast, but he had an animalistic intellect and instinct. Magneto went down first, Logan’s claws ripping through the steel helmet and his skull.
The younger man made a fatal mistake. He allowed Logan to study him, cataloging weaknesses. He wound up sliced down the middle, falling in a heap along with the other bodies.
Mystique attempted to distract Wolverine by transforming into Storm. Ororo flinched. It was going to be difficult to watch herself die at Logan’s hands. To her surprise, he hesitated. Curious, Ororo took another step into the room, watching as he circled the metamorph.
Pyro took his chance. He shot a wall of flame at Logan, laughing manically all the while. Storm wanted to rush to his aid, but something told her that would only get her killed. He had hesitated once when Mystique fooled him, in his feral state, she had no doubt he would not make that mistake twice.
The flames obscured her view, making her bite her lip. Logan was covered with blood, so something about this bizarre room could harm him. She nearly raised her hands to conjure a rainstorm when Pyro screamed, his voice gurgling. Storm winced, finally noting that Logan had killed the boy, claws buried in his chest.
One strong arm reached up, snapping John’s neck as though it were a toothpick for good measure.
Mystique was back. In her natural form, Logan did not flinch. They fought for long minutes, the woman’s agility and martial skill giving her opponent a run for his money. But Wolverine was tenacious. He pursued her carefully, watching her every move as a wolf would prey.
It all ended when Mystique miscalculated, her fatigue factoring in. Logan pounced, with a roar and slit the woman open. Storm had to avert her eyes, even as Logan howled with triumph. He had not yet detected her and she slowly turned her eyes back to the massacre, her heart in her throat.
Logan stood in the center of the dead bodies, breathing hard, claws extended, eyes flashing with wild fury. Ororo stared in shock, unable to tear her eyes from his blood and sweat soaked form.
Finding her voice, she announced herself.
“Wolverine?”
He turned sharply, growling at her. Something flickered behind his eyes, shaking him from his rage. She noted he raised his face just slightly, sampling the air quickly. His eyes closed for a moment, his claws retracting with a resonating snikt.
“’Ro?” his voice was gravelly, hinting that his beast had not yet been fully tamed.
“Yes. I am here,” she replied, taking another cautious step, eyes darting to the bodies littering the floor.
“Hang on,” Logan said curtly, drawing her gaze back to him.
“Computer, end program.”
With a gasp, Ororo watched the bodies shimmer, then fade away. The room turned from an obstacle course to smooth steel walls an instant later, leaving Logan alone with her.
“Ya shouldn’t have seen that,” he snapped, sounding a little upset with her.
“Logan…” she took another step to him.
“What?”
Angry now, Ororo placed her hands on her hips, reeling in the sting that threatened her eyes. “Do not be angry with me, Logan. I was worried for you.”
He did not approach her, glinting dark eyes held her in place, though she could see he was still attempting to keep himself in control.
“I’m fine. Happy now?”
“Logan.”
“Storm, you shouldn’t have watched that!”
“Why?”
He stared at her in surprise, giving Ororo the opening she had been looking for. She marched over to him quickly, aware that his scent clung to the shirt she was wearing. Hopefully, that would be enough to tame his baser instincts. Perhaps he would recognize her as his mate, something to protect. The thought thrilled her for a moment.
“What are you doin’?” he asked, sounding a bit uncertain.
Standing directly in front of him, she smiled softly, reaching for his hand.
“I am not afraid of you, my Logan.”
He stared at his hand as though he had never seen it, watching as Ororo lovingly traced the lines of his knuckles, over the long bones she knew concealed his lethal weaponry. He had killed with these hands, mercilessly and in cold-blood. But his hands also bore an aching tenderness she had barely come to know. This duality fascinated her on a daily basis.
“Let me see them,” she whispered, placing her fingers into the grooves between his bones.
Without a word, Logan slowly unsheathed his claws, Ororo’s fingertips buzzed at the power that radiated from them. Feeling his flesh and bone shift and pull, she smiled. Yes, these were the hands of a ferocious killer and yet, those of a good man.
“Beautiful,” Storm murmured, stepping away from him.
He drew the claws back into his skin, blinking at her as though confused. Ororo smiled, allowing that familiar sting to overcome her eyes.
“Now, feel me,” she commanded, her voice taking on a powerful edge. “Do you fear me?”
“No,” he said in that growling whisper. “Never.”
Smiling broadly, Storm conjured wind within the strange room he had helped build, allowing them to lift her into the air. Positioned aloft, she brought forth the fury of a raging hurricane into the room. Wind that howled, rain slicing through the now damp air, thunder rumbled and lightning crashed.
She looked down, surprised to find Logan kneeling against the power of her winds. And he was smiling. His face was turned toward her, a sort of contentment in his expression mixed with what she thought was awe. Grinning in return, she raised her hands, reveling in her power, the thrill it brought her that Logan was below, watching her as though nothing else in the world could hold his attention.
A sudden, low howl sounded from below, sending a thrill down her spine. In response, she whipped her winds faster, making them scream within the confines of the Danger Room. The howl increased and so did the wind, almost as though two forces of nature were communing, as they had in ancient times.
She relaxed a few moments later, lowering herself to the ground, shifting the winds so she was directly above a smirking Wolverine. He held his arms out, letting her drop right into his embrace as the wind abated, leaving them both sopping wet.
“Wow,” he breathed, holding her close. “Beautiful.”
Comfortable in his arms, she leaned up to kiss his lips. “I am not afraid of you Logan, and I embrace the Wolverine.”
Logan’s eyes softened, as though he had never heard such a thing before. He leaned closer to her, smirking slightly.
“I’m not afraid of you, ‘Ro and I embrace the Storm.”
“Good,” she said quickly, jumping from his arms with a grin. “Now, let us find some thing to eat while you tell me what this Danger Room actually is.”
~@~
“Holograms,” Henry was saying as the group sat in the backyard, enjoying a light breeze as Storm controlled a steady rainfall over her blue friend’s dying garden.
“Holograms?” Peter asked skeptically. “Those are harmless.”
“Not these,” Scott chimed in from his place across from Storm. “They approximate levels of danger and injury and implement them. That means…”
“You could die,” Logan grunted from beside her. “We have different levels. So you can do somethin’ light, only feelin’ like ya got hit with a bullet-proof vest on.”
“Minor injuries, things like that. The higher the level, the more dangerous it becomes. The computer programs are intelligent and they use whatever model to fight, meaning all of their skills and even some problem solving. Logan and I have been testing it for two weeks.”
“Scott,” Ororo chided, guiding her miniature shower across the garden. “You have been keeping secrets. Both of you.”
“Well, we didn’t want anyone experimenting before it was ready,” he gave Rogue, Bobby and Kitty a pointed glare.
“What?” Rogue asked, all innocence.
When Ororo caught Logan’s eye, he shook his head. They both knew better. Rogue and her friends would have sneaked into the Danger Room that first night, possibly injuring one another fatally. She was secretly happy her friends had not chosen to reveal the Danger Room’s location or abilities until now.
“When can we start training?” Peter asked, looking as excited as he ever did.
“Storm, please get the roses as well,” Henry asked quietly, making her smile.
“Yes, dear,” she replied, shooing her tiny clouds toward the drooping flowers.
“While you’re at it,” Logan nudged her. “Get my bonsais.”
The entire group turned to Logan in shock. He was staring at Storm as though she had grown another head, and she was sure her look mirrored it. Turning to Henry, Logan opened his mouth and the clipped tones of what seemed to be Japanese flowed easily from his gruff voice.
“Logan?”
He shook his head, as though clearing it. “There’s somethin’ that doesn’t happen every day.”
“A repressed memory?” Henry asked, closing Bobby’s mouth with a clawed fingertip.
“Nah,” he replied, shrugging it off. Ororo could tell he was worried. “Just this image of bonsai trees and I suddenly knew how to speak Japanese.”
The group fell into an uncomfortable silence and Ororo, lost in her thoughts did not notice the thick blanket of fog that rolled in around them. Watching Logan carefully, she noted the tension of his shoulders, which had not been there since their encounter in the Danger Room hours before.
They had left the room quickly, coming up to eat a light meal at the new picnic table when Scott appeared, asking what had been going on in the lower levels. She had lied easily, saying Logan had been showing her the benefits of the Danger Room. Scott had seemed a little miffed, but as the crowd grew, secrets began spilling from both men.
“Erm, Storm?” Scott’s voice cut through her musings.
“Yes?” she asked, blinking, wondering why it was so dark.
“Worried, darlin’?” Logan chuckled from beside her.
“Whatever do you mean, Logan?”
“Judging from the fog, which I can’t even see my own hand in, I’d say you’re thinkin’ bout somethin’ that has you worried all right,” came the easy reply.
“Oh! My goodness,” Ororo instantly began to reign in the fog, replacing the stifling darkness with pure sunlight. Her eyes stung as she converted them back to her natural color, smiling sheepishly.
Everyone laughed a little, thanking her for bringing back daylight, though their gazes continued to flicker to Logan. He sat in silence now, puffing on his cigar, looking lost in thought. Wishing she did not have a need to avoid outward physical contact in the presence of others, she watched him closely.
“What?” he growled to the assembled mutants.
“Nothing,” Bobby said, looking away.
“Logan, is there anythin’…” Rogue trailed off.
“I’m fine,” he turned away from the table. “Chuck’s pagin’ me.”
Before anyone could utter another word, he stood from the table, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sauntered off toward the mansion. Ororo watched him go, painfully aware that the others were staring at her. Thanking Logan silently for making her change out of his shirt earlier, she raised a brow to her friends.
“Go after him,” Rogue beamed. “We all know yah want ta.”
Keeping her serene look upon her face, she merely raised the eyebrow further, her heart wanting to rush over to Logan as fast as the winds could take her.
“Perhaps I will check on Jubilation’s flight,” she said simply, standing calmly. “Will you be riding along with Scott to fetch her?”
Rogue and Kitty nodded eagerly. “Course we are!”
“Good, then I will ensure we have all the pertinent information.”
She moved to walk away, keeping her steps slow, relaxed, as she made her way back to the mansion. Splashing from behind told her that the younger X-Men had decided to slip into the pool, after all. Rogue and Kitty squealed as their companions laughed uproariously.
Stepping into the kitchen, Ororo made a move to the Professor’s office, halted in the corridor by a whimpering cry from the living room. She paused, wondering who could have made that noise before moving toward the sunny room.
Her guard was up as she looked about, searching for the increasingly loud sobbing that directed her toward the far side of the room, behind her favorite armchair. A sudden chill seemed to waft through the open windows. While Storm felt the cold, it did not affect her and she rounded the edge of the sofa carefully, peeking over the edge.
Jean was hugging herself tightly, crying into her arms as a child would. Startled, Ororo slowly kneeled, reaching for her friend. Jean’s clothing was dirt, torn at the edges as though she had crawled through the woods on her hands and knees. Red hair was matted to her skull, caked with mud.
“Jean?”
Green eyes peered at her from over her pale arms, fear screaming from them. Taken aback, Ororo moved a little closer.
“What happened?”
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Jean screamed.
“Jean?”
“W-Will you hurt me?”
Terrified at how small Jean’s voice had suddenly become, Ororo shook her head. “No, sweetheart, I will not harm you.”
“I’m looking for my sister, we were in the woods” Jean’s childlike voice whispered. “But I can’t find her now.”
Swallowing hard, Ororo sent a mental shove toward Charles, hating to break up whatever meeting he was having with Logan. Something very odd was happening to Jean and that took instant precedence.
“What is your sister’s name, darling? Perhaps we can find her together,” she tried for a kind smile.
“H-Her name is…Squirrel,” her friend whimpered. “I wish I could find her. I’m scared.”
It was then that the pitch of Jean’s voice and her disheveled appearance made sense. Squirrel had been Jean’s nickname for her the few years they had been tutored by the Professor. Once Storm had taken her codename, the nickname fell into disuse.
“Wombat?” she tested carefully, reaching for her. It had taken a moment to jar her memory for Jean’s matching nickname.
Jean looked up, smiling a little. “Squirrel?”
Ororo nodded, shooting a look to the entrance of the room, where Logan and Charles had appeared. She sent another mental tug to Charles, keeping her eyes on Jean as her hand grasped Jean’s trembling fingers.
What is it, Charles? She believes we are still children.
I do not know, Jean is blocking me. What has she said?
She called me Squirrel. I believe she thinks we are seventeen, the summer we got separated from the others while camping.
Oh, dear.
Yes, please move Logan back and fetch Scott. She will remember him. Perhaps we can get her to the infirmary.
“Storm?”
Ororo’s eyes blinked rapidly, staring at Jean. The woman looked around, seemingly confused as to her surroundings. There was no trace of the trembling fear of a teenager in Jean grabbed the edge of the couch, standing slowly.
“Jean?” she said slowly, afraid for her friend.
“Yes, what…what’s going on?” her green eyes found Ororo’s. “I don’t remember coming in here…why am I dirty?”
Scott, flanked by Henry, entered a moment later, worry etched into his face. He moved instantly to Jean, scooping her into his arms and holding her tightly. Jean sighed, falling into his embrace, making Ororo’s heart ache.
“Again?” she overheard him whisper.
“Yes. I don’t know what happened…” Jean replied, her voice muffled by Scott’s shoulder.
Shocked, Ororo turned back to the Professor, whom nodded gravely. “Jean has slipped into childhood memories a few times since she defeated her darker side. They are never violent or terrifying memories, so we thought it best to not mention it.”
Feeling utterly betrayed, Ororo walked around the couch, brushing past the Professor and Logan, feeling that sting behind her eyes. Letting it go, she barely heard Logan’s soft call of her name as she rounded the corner that led to the stairs.
Once upstairs, she entered her bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. Fog rolled out along the mansion’s grounds, accompanied a moment later by steady rainfall. Thunder rumbled ominously, but she mentally told it to quiet. She could deal with this without noise.
Only the rain and that thick fog betrayed her emotions. Fear for her friend, sorrow for her pain and the betrayal that she had dealt herself. In her budding relationship with Logan, she had let everything else slide. Jean was in trouble and she had not poked her beneath the clouds to see what was happening in her world.
With a sigh, she lay back on her bed and let it rain.
Chapter Fourteen: Light on Dark by Gaineewop
Chapter Fourteen: Light on Dark
“I can find nothing linking your knowledge of Japanese and the image of bonsai trees to any sort of memory,” the Professor said, a bit of sadness in his voice.
Outside, the fog and rain continued, tearing at Logan’s heart. He had decided to not pursue her, not when the fog began. Rain he could have handled on it’s own, fog, however, said Ororo was worried. Her worry would not be helped by Logan’s presence. He would have to see her later.
Jean had been taken to her bedroom, ushered there by a concerned One-Eye and chiding Beast. Hank had explained the incident Jean and Storm had been through as teenagers. They had located Storm quickly, but Jean had been lost for hours in the thick woods that surrounded the home. When Ororo had found her, Jean had nearly driven herself into her mind, calling for her sister.
Shaking his head, Logan addressed the Professor. “I didn’t think so. It happened too fast for me to make sense of it.”
“You’re taking this rather well, Wolverine,” the bald man commented, sitting back in his wheelchair.
He shrugged. “I’m learning that the past isn’t really as important as the present.”
Logan could have sworn the older mutant smirked. “I see.”
“The mind needs to discover things on its own, right?” Logan said sardonically.
This time, Charles did smirk. Widely. “As does the heart, Logan.”
The steady beat of raindrops on the window made him look up, wondering what she was doing up there. Would the sound, smell, feel of rain always remind him of her? Even when it was over between them and there was nothing but memory? Would he find solace in a storm as she did, long after the remembrance of her touch had faded from his flesh?
“Thinking is, at times, overrated, Logan,” the Professor said quietly. “In fact, I know a certain young woman with extraordinary talents who spends far too much time doing just that.”
“Didn’t I tell you to butt out?”
“Yes, though I find it increasingly difficult with the way you two project.”
Frowning, Logan raised an eyebrow in question. Projecting? Could Chuck and Jean feelwhat happened to him the second Storm appeared?
“Loudly, my friend,” Charles replied to his silent question. “And it is not an unpleasant emotion in the least.”
Logan stood. “We done?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Good. I’ve got shit to do.”
He left the office without so much as a backward glance, grumbling to himself. A sharp clap of thunder made him shake his head. She was certainly trying to get some attention. Irritated that everything in his body urged him to bolt up the stairs and calm her into bringing them clear skies, Logan turned toward the kitchen, picking up the sweet scent of Rogue before he entered.
“Hey, kid,” he greeted, grabbing a beer from the cupboard.
“Hi,” she replied, spooning a bit of the apple pie Jean had made that morning into her mouth. “What’s wrong with Storm? She ruined our pool time.”
“Jean had some kind of conniption in the living room, been rainin’ ever since,” Logan said simply, hopping onto a stool opposite his friend.
“Huh. An’ you’re down here why?”
He silently shrugged, wanting to change the subject. It was obvious that everyone in the mansion knew about his relationship with Storm. Wind howled almost every night, banging the shutters against the wall and it wasn’t like they were quiet about it either. It was just…uncomfortable to talk about something that he liked keeping to himself.
“When’s the Firecracker gettin’ here?”
Rogue grinned broadly around a mouthful of pie. Logan chuckled. The kid was cute when she put her mind to it.
“ Bout eight,” she gushed. “Ah can’t wait.”
“Three Musketeers, back in action, eh?”
“Just for one day, then Kitten is off ta college without us,” Rogue frowned, picking at her pie.
“Sorry, kid. I know you’ll miss her,” Logan reached over, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Ah will, but at least Ah have all of you ta keep me company.”
“How are you holdin’ up? After the fight in the club, I mean?” he changed the subject again, not wanting Rogue to wallow in self-pity. Not with him in the room, anyway.
“All right, Ah guess. Ah was scared for awhile, but then Peter showed up in time ta yank Pyro offa me. He’s scary when he’s pissed off,” she mused quietly.
“I noticed,” Logan agreed, watching her carefully.
“Yah know, Ah was thinkin’ bout it. Ah shouldn’t be so…scared. Ah want ta train more,” she confessed. “Ah don’t wanna be a victim again.”
“Hey,” he shushed her, moving around the island to sit beside her. “You’re not a victim, kid. You’ve got everyone here looking to you for help and there if you need ‘em. We’ll get you trained up, don’t worry.”
She smiled up at him, hugging him tightly, though he could feel her adjusting to make sure her skin did not come in contact with his. He had already thought over the kids’ training, knowing it had not been nearly enough. But, Scott had other classes to worry about, not just teaching the young how to kick some ass. That, now, was his job. His only job. With Rogue in the mix, he knew he had to do something drastic. It was one of the main reasons the Danger Room had been built.
Thunder clapped loudly again and Logan’s heart tore a little. He released his hold on Rogue, looking back up at the ceiling, frowning as he did so. She’d had a point this afternoon. They had let everything slide, so until he was finished talking with his little sister, Storm was just going to have to wait.
“Yah like her, doncha?” she broke into his thoughts, grinning.
“Yeah, maybe,” he replied, knowing she was the only person in the world he wouldn’t growl at for asking.
“Ah think it’s great,” she went on, taking another bite of pie and then talking around it. “She’s feisty, sweet, sexy as hell…”
“What?” he scowled at her.
“She is! Come on, Logan. Jus’ be honest for once. Yah like her.”
Chuckling at the way she seemed to know him even better than himself, he held his hands up, nodding. “Yeah. I do. A lot. Happy?”
She nodded empathically. “Yessir.”
Twirling his beer bottle’s lip with his thumb and forefinger, he settled his other arm on the tiled island, thinking it all over. Days of secret looks and nights of long talks and aching flesh against flesh. It had seemed dreamlike until last night, when the cold hand of fear threatened to release the beast within.
It was for that reason alone that he had programmed the Danger Room to include the Brotherhood, his only release stemming from a brief moment of satisfaction that he had beaten them. They had hurt her, and Rogue, and for that he wanted to kill them all with his bare hands.
“She’s Claustrophobic,” he said at last, keeping his tone even. “That’s why she was so bad off.”
Rogue toyed with the handle of her spoon. “Poor thing.”
“Yeah. When she was a kid, she was trapped under rubble, watched her parents die. Fucked her up.”
“God.”
“She told me that and all I wanted to do was murder Magneto. I don’t want anyone to ever hurt her,” he finished quietly.
“Ah know, Logan. Ah can see that every time she walks in the room,” Rogue replied just as softly.
“I don’t really know what to do with that.”
She shrugged. “Live with it. Don’ let fear get in the way, Logan. Yah want her? Grab hold an’ don’ let go.”
He smirked, looking over to her. “When did you get wise?”
Winking, she shrugged again. “Ah had a good teacher. He told me it’s a rare thing for someone ta genuinely wanna help another.”
Logan leaned over, kissing her hair gently and hugging her close for a moment. “Where would I be if you hadn’t jumped into my truck?”
Rogue gripped him more tightly. “Ah don’ like thinkin’ bout that.”
~@~
He left Rogue as she went off to get ready for her evening. Cyclops was taking Kitty and Rogue to meet Jubilee’s plane and then the boys would meet up for dinner out. He heard Scott telling them that Jean was coming along as well. Trusting Colossus could keep everything under control, even if Jean had another telepathic conniption, he headed out of doors, directly into his lover’s storm.
The thunder had abated and the fog was thinning, but the rain had only increased. He sighed, letting the cold drops of water soak him, inhaling the scent of rain that reminded him so much of her.
She was becoming more of an addiction every day. He felt his world torn to chaos if she was not around and order came to him at the slightest whiff of her scent. Logan found himself valuing her opinion, especially when it came to teaching. She would laugh at some of his more outrageous suggestions, but when he was serious, she took in every word and gave him an honest answer.
For a little over two weeks this had been going on, and in that time Logan could scarcely remember how he’d gone without her. Sure, he was independent to a fault, but so was she. He could not deny that there was a comfort in knowing someone else was there to listen, if nothing else. Ororo had become a fixture in his life, much like Rogue had. There was something that had drawn him in, not willing to let go.
He turned to walk along the path in the garden that “belonged” to her. Several of the X-Men had an interest in botany, though why he couldn’t really figure out, so the Professor had given them each a piece of the large garden to call their own.
Hank’s was filled with vegetables and melons, most of which they used for meals at the mansion or Jean canned for the winter. Jean’s was filled with bright flowers. Ororo’s, on the other hand, had long vines creeping up the garden wall and was filled with herbs she used for cooking or making her own incense. And lilac. She loved purple flowers.
Raindrops sliding from his hair to his face made him remember that morning in the Danger Room. He had been horrified at first, knowing she had seen him at his worst, a raging, howling animal. She had been afraid. He knew that. But her actions after the slaughter confused him.
Holding his hand that way, asking to feel his claws as they released…what had started that? He felt privileged when she looked upon him that way, as though he were good, worthy. Something told him she had not feared him, but for him. That, of course, didn’t make a lick of sense.
And then, watching her had only drawn him more closely to her. That feral storm she conjured from still air, wind so powerful he’d had to kneel just to stay off of his back. The joy in her face as she hovered above, her powers culminating in a ferocity that oozed raw nature. Without knowing why, he’d howled up at her.
In response, those hurricane-force winds shrieked back to him. A shiver had gone up his spine at that. Nature at it’s best. Animal and element. He had never known such peace as that moment, knowing she was there, embracing her “beast” with him.
This was no longer a simple thing, his attraction to ‘Ro. She was as untamed as he, though she kept herself in a tighter check. She had to; he knew that. If she released too often, the devastation would be limitless. In her he found calm. In him she found chaos.
Things were definitely getting complicated.
Logan turned back toward the mansion, wondering what she was doing. Was she alone in her bedroom, just listening to the rain? Or was she waiting for him? He increased his pace a little, suddenly needing his arms around her, protecting her.
Don’ let fear get in the way, Logan. Yah want her? Grab hold an’ don’ let go.
Rogue’s words came back to him, mingled with the conversation he’d had with One-Eye the day of that damn movie.
You really don’t know, do you?
It hit Logan like an adamantium fist to the gut. Everything he’d tried to brush off as lust and lonesomeness, the way he always wanted to make her smile, the unbelievable feeling of contentment he found in her embrace. He took off back toward the mansion at a run.
He could be making the biggest mistake in his life, but he was now positive he was falling in love with ‘Ro.
And he liked that idea.
~@~
He barely had time to knock before the door to her bedroom opened. Taking the invitation, Logan entered quickly, closing the door behind him with an audible snap, even above the rain’s continued downpour. He sniffed the air carefully, catching a hint of anxiety from her.
Storm stood at her balcony, doors thrust open, curtains billowing in the breeze, rain falling at her feet. Her white hair seemed to dance in the play of her candlelight, which he noticed smell faintly of sandalwood.
Paying no heed to his dripping clothing and sloshing boots, he moved across the room, coming up behind her. Ororo sighed softly when he reached her, turning slowly until she was facing him.
“’Ro,” he whispered, reaching for her with a wet hand.
She took a single step closer to him. He smirked a bit when he noted she had put his shirt back on. It was soaking up the water from his wet chest, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled softly, leaning into his hand. Her arms lay gently over his, her body touching his completely now.
“Don’t worry,” he told her quietly. “Stop thinkin’, for once.”
Ororo’s eyes slowly shifted from white, but the rain did not stop. She blinked up at him, one hand covering his, splaying her fingers over his knuckles.
“I can never think when you are with me,” she admitted in a hushed tone. “And that frightens me.”
“Shh, don’t be afraid.”
“You give me strength.”
A lump formed in his throat at her delicate admission. He pulled her chin up with his hand, brushing his lips gently across hers. Such a simple touch and yet it made his heart beat faster in his chest.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers.
“You’re my light, ‘Ro,” he whispered. “My ‘Ro.”
It was the first time he had ever tacked a “my” onto his favorite pet name for her. He could see the realization in her eyes, the subtle shift in her heartbeat as it turned from rhythmic thudding to pounding erratically.
Her hands gripped the hem of his sopping shirt. Slowly peeling it from his chest. Her eyes never left his, even when he raised his arms to aid her. Ororo dropped the shirt on the floor behind him.
Tugging on his belt buckle, she drew him closer, urging his hands to slide down her back, pressing her to him. He could feel the warm swells of her breasts against him, her scent filling his nostrils, rain mixed with arousal.
Walking backward, Storm drew him to the bed. He followed, captivated by the raw emotion in her eyes, surprised it was not howling about them in wind-form. Her hands glided over his bare chest, heating his already warm flesh before she buried them in his hair, pulling his head down so she could kiss him.
‘Ro’s tongue darted from her mouth, caressing his bottom lip. With a strangled groan, Logan’s hands found their way to her firm backside, taking her off of her feet in one smooth motion. Her long, chocolate colored legs wrapped instantly about his waist, arms winding around his neck.
Her tongue massaged his relentlessly, drawing the breath from his lungs. Logan carefully took the last few steps to the bed, bending his knees to drop them both onto her down-soft comforter. Ororo’s hair fanned out around her head as he drew back from her addicting kiss. She smiled seductively up at him and he captured her lips once more.
Once need for air forced him to break their kiss, he smoothed his lips over her jaw and down to her neck, licking at her pulse point. She had to have the best skin on the face of the earth. Silky, dark flesh stretched over long, lean muscles teased him every day. She covered her figure well, but he knew what was beneath the façade.
Marking the skin at her neck, he slid a hand down the flannel of the shirt she wore, between her breasts. His eyes on hers, he slowly released a claw with a muted snikt.
Her eyes did not flinch, not even as he slipped the adamantium digit into a space between the buttons. Keeping her gaze, he worked the razor-sharp metal up the seam, taking each button off one at a time. Ororo’s eyes fluttered shut, her back arching only slightly, into the touch of his claw.
Unbelievably turned on by her reaction, he moved the claw the opposite direction, destroying the remaining buttons until the shirt was open, revealing a long patch of that smoky skin. He retracted the claw quickly, noting her eyes opened and a small smile formed on her luscious lips.
Lowering his head, Logan licked the path of exposed flesh, from the edge of her baby blue panties, over the dip of her navel, across the swell of her ribcage. He paused at the bottom tip of her breastbone, where only weeks ago he had pushed her heart to beat again. Kissing that sacred place, he continued on, working his way past the shallow valley between her breasts until he reached her throat.
Ororo writhed beneath him, his arousal growing with every mewling whimper from her perfect mouth. He kissed her gently again; hands moving up to spread the shirt further apart, revealing her perfect skin to his feasting eyes.
“Logan,” she whispered breathily, arching her chest closer to him.
Not willing to turn down such an inviting offer, he leaned down, taking a dark peak into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. Ororo cried out, one hand finding it’s way into his hair as the other smoothed over his shoulders.
Logan paid equal attention to her other breast, caressing her skin with his calloused hands. She crooned his name again, making the two simple syllables sound like a prayer. His heart constricted, arousal growing with every move she made, every breathy sigh. Painfully aware of his jeans, he pulled back quickly.
She sat up, shrugging out of his shirt and sliding her panties from her legs as he fumbled with his belt, finally wrenching it from the loops of his jeans and tossing it away.
He shimmied out of his wet jeans and boxers, kicking his boots off. Her previously spotless bedroom would be a wreck, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to mind. Turning back to his own personal goddess, Logan knelt before her on the bed.
Ororo kneeled as well, kissing him gently, all of her smooth skin pressed against him. His hands wound their way into her white tresses, keeping her to him. Their heartbeats seemed to be in sync as they fell into their passionate embrace. Hands developing a mind of their own, they touched every inch of her they could find. Ororo gasped and groaned under his touch, her hands copying every movement.
“Logan,” she whispered again.
“Ororo,” he countered, letting the beauty of her name roll off of his tongue.
“Promise me.”
“What?” he spoke against her lips.
“That you will not run away again,” Ororo’s eyes were filled with a desperation he felt mirrored in his own heart.
“I promise you, Ororo. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
She roped him back into another passionate kiss. He felt her legs shift until she slid her backside onto his thighs, the heat from her core radiating from her.
“God, ‘Ro,” he groaned, hips arching to meet hers of their own accord.
“My Logan,” she chanted, reaching a delicate hand between their bodies.
He gasped when her hand encircled him, gliding her body closer to his until his arousal brushed against her wet folds. Pressing his lips harder against hers, he poured everything he felt into it. She pushed back against him, even as she rocked her hips, sheathing him in her warmth as though by instinct.
They pulled away from the kiss in unison, moaning one another’s names. He trembled, overcome with the feeling of complete peace that washed over him. This, this was what he had sought so long for. Suddenly, nothing else about him mattered. Just her. Only this.
Moving against her, Logan buried his face in her neck, rewarded when she wrapped her arms and legs around him, thrusting her hips against his. He matched her, plunging into her with every motion of her slender hips.
The scent of them surrounded him. Rain, sex, cigars and the hint of sandalwood from her lit candles. Candlelight flickered over them both, and when he pulled away, he could see it reflecting in her eyes.
He urged her onto her back, enjoying the feel of her beneath him, where he could protect her from anyone and anything. Her legs inched higher on his hips, allowing him to move more deeply within her. Ororo cried out, reaching one hand for the headboard. Logan growled a little, knowing he was losing control as she was.
“’Ro,” he warned, pulling back to thrust roughly into her.
“Yes,” she panted. “More, my Logan…my… Wolverine.”
All hell broke loose.
He propped himself on his hands, slamming hard into her over and over again. Ororo only cried louder. Her legs tightened around him like a vice, her eyes turning bright white as he drove her body into the mattress.
“My ‘Ro…my Storm…” he growled as a massive gust of wind swirled around them.
He dimly noted a drop in the bedroom’s temperature, but he pushed the thought away, concentrating on the growing fire within him. Ororo met his every thrust, though he knew he should be hurting her.
Logan could feel a sudden change in her, a frantic arching of her body, her inner walls clenching around him. She felt incredible, hot, wet, carefully molded to his body as if God designed her with Logan in mind.
Crushing his mouth to hers, he swallowed her cries as she climaxed, growling his approval as she continued to move against him, her tongue pushing into his mouth to duel with his.
In and out. In and out. “Ah, God!” he cried into her mouth, unable to think of anything save the feel of being buried inside her, the ache in his chest that only she could fill.
With another hard thrust, Logan toppled over the edge, white-hot light erupting behind his eyes. Ororo cried out as well, the fingernails of her hand digging into his back to the point of pain. He thrust rigidly into her thrice more before he stilled, shaking as he held himself above her.
Ororo’s legs went limp, falling to the side of his thighs. Her eyes were open, her entire body convulsing around his. Sweat had covered them both, coupled with a distinct chill. Logan could not take his eyes from hers, shocked to the core at the depth of emotion coming from the blue pools.
“Logan…I…” she swallowed hard, as though something was very hard to say.
He understood. It was on the tip of his tongue as well, but his stubborn mouth refused to form the words. Nodding, he kissed her sweetly.
“I know. I can’t either, but I know you know,” Logan said roughly.
She gave him a beautiful smile, wrapping a shaking hand around his neck to rope him back into a kiss. He shifted his weight onto his elbows, wanting to be closer to her. Hell, if he could, he would crawl completely into her and never come out.
As he moved, his hand came into contact with something very wet and very cold on the bed. Frowning over Ororo’s lips, he opened an eye, searching for the mysterious cause.
He pulled away, chuckling and shaking his head. At her confused glare, Logan nodded to the bed.
“Snow, darlin’? That’s a new one,” he teased, disengaging from her to look around.
Soft, pure white snow covered Ororo’s entire bedroom. She sat up, holding onto Logan for support, then threw her head back and laughed. He loved that sound. Only once or twice had she actually full on laughed in his presence. It gave him a warm feeling, hearing that melodic voice filled with humor.
“Oh my. I have never done that…” she giggled almost girlishly, making him smirk.
“Never? So what emotion does this one mean? I’ve got the others down, I think,” he shook his head, sitting on the edge of her bed, feet ankle-deep in Ororo’s snow.
She settled comfortably in his lap, shifting until her back was to his chest, dangling her feet in the snow and kicking it up, as though it was perfectly natural for there to be snow in her bedroom.
“I honestly do not know,” Storm said, raising her hands, palms facing the ceiling.
He felt her body charge with electricity, placing his palms flat on her back as she seemed to hum with power. Logan felt a gust of warm wind swirl around them, creating a small cyclone in the center of her bedroom.
Fascinated, he watched her usher the perfect snow from her bedroom, collecting it as though it were a pile of dust. Moving her hands gently, she pushed it all outside. He could feel the thrum of power fade from her back as she lay against him.
Logan wrapped his arms around her, holding her naked form to his, closing his eyes with utter contentment. There was no fear here, in this embrace. There was gentle understanding, quiet peace.
Ororo relaxed against him, stroking the fingers he had laced across her abdomen. With a thumb, he traced the outline of her scar, a relic from the day that changed his life. They sat that way in comfortable silence for a long time, relishing this time together.
“Hey, Storm!”
Scott’s call from outside made them both jump. Logan released his claws instinctively, noting that Ororo had remained completely composed. She tapped on the adamantium gently.
“Do put those away, Logan. You could take someone’s eye out.”
He smirked broadly at her, remembering her reaction to the cool metal on her flesh and wanting to find out if her thighs were as responsive. Snikt. He retracted his claws quickly, allowing Storm to leave his lap without being skewered.
His lover pulled on that satiny blue robe he adored, white hair sticking out in every direction, lips bruised, hips swaying with afterglow. She looked wild and he loved it. He stood as well, pulling on his wet jeans, not bothering to button them up as he followed her outside.
“What is it, Scott?” Ororo said casually, leaning over her balcony to look down at their leader.
Logan purposefully stood right beside her, dropping all pretenses as he propped his elbows on the stone ledge, wishing he had a cigar to go with his look. Ororo quirked the side of her perfect mouth at him in amusement.
Cyclops sighed loudly, holding his arms out as he gestured to the four inches of snow that blanketed the grounds.
“Jesus, ‘Ro,” Logan whispered to her. “Had a good time?”
She replied by cocking her hip toward him, keeping her attention on Scott.
“Could you be a little more discreet, Storm?” he called up, obviously irritated.
Surprising Logan, Jean was laughing beside him, watching as the kids rolled around in the snow, talking excitedly. Wasn’t every day it snowed in July, even when surrounded by mutants.
Ororo had not replied yet, but when she did, Logan laughed.
“Can you take your glasses off in a theatre?” she countered sweetly.
Cyclops stared at her in shock. Wolverine winked down at Jean, whom waggled her eyebrows with a broad grin.
“Storm!” Scott shouted.
Sighing, Ororo held her hand out, collecting a small pile of snow in her hand. Logan smirked, watching as she expertly rolled the snow into a sizeable ball.
“My dear brother,” she intoned in a singsong voice. “Learn to have a little fun.”
Without pause, Ororo aimed at One-Eye, drew her hand back and tossed the snowball directly into his face.
Logan threw his head back and laughed.
Chapter Fifteen: Graying Tower by Gaineewop
Chapter Fifteen: Graying Tower
Kitty left the mansion the day after Jubilee arrived. Ororo had held the girl tightly in her arms as they bid goodbye in the foyer. The young mutant had come to them so unsure, so afraid of who and what she was, was now reentering the world beyond those wrought iron gates, without the comfort of her gifted family.
Scott had her backpack in hand, waiting in the doorway. Storm could not release Kitty for a long time, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Keeping her mutation under control was difficult, but she had vowed to send their Kitten off with a beautiful day, another fond memory of the place that had been her home.
“I’ll be fine, Miss Munroe,” Kitty whispered into their embrace. “Take care of Marie and Jubi for me, please?”
“Of course, my girl,” Ororo replied, equally quiet. “Call if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk about a boy at two in the morning.”
She chuckled. “Always. Goodbye, Miss Munroe. I’ll miss you so much.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Ororo let the young woman go, watching with sad eyes as Rogue and Jubilee instantly grasped her. All three girls sobbed into near hysterics.
A slender hand took hers, and without looking, Storm smiled faintly. Jean squeezed her hand, tugging her back a little until she could throw an arm about her shoulders. Returning the comfortable affection, Ororo wrapped one arm about Jean’s waist, holding her dear friend as close as she could.
It seemed like only yesterday she had bid Jean goodbye to intern at a hospital in Albany. Two long years of weekly phone calls and holiday visits had nearly killed them both, and their friendship was stronger because of it. Then, they had been the only female presence in the mansion, the only two that could share the most intimate of secrets while overindulging on ice cream and soda pop in the wee hours of morning.
Painful as it was to watch the three sweet girls bid their goodbyes, Ororo knew that someday, they would see one another as she and Jean saw each other. Sisters. No, closer than sisters.
Kitty untangled herself from her friends to kiss the Professor’s bald head in thanks, whispering to him for a moment. She had already said all that needed saying to Jean, and as Scott was taking her to the train station with Peter, she would say her goodbyes to her big brother and could-be love there. Henry, horrible with farewells, had given the girl a kiss on the cheek and then bolted for his lab. He was no doubt lamenting about the loss of a student, along with the satiny tones of his favorite jazz album.
Bobby lifted the girl off of her feet, talking quietly into her hair, making her laugh. They had come to the mansion in on the same train four years ago and that made them something akin to a young Ororo and Scott. While leaning on Jean, Ororo looked to her own brother and smiled. His return smirk said he had noticed it too.
Finally, Kitty stood before the silent Wolverine, looking a little anxious for a moment. He gave her that half-smirk he regarded all of the children with and very slowly, Kitty raised her arms, hugging him as tightly as she had everyone else.
“Thank you,” she whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Thank you for being here when the soldiers came. And thanks for taking care of my family.”
Ororo swallowed thickly again, surprised when Logan returned her enthusiastic hug and nodded, speaking softly into her ear.
“Anyone gives you any trouble, you just call Wolverine. I’ll set ‘em straight,” he kissed her hair, much as he would Rogue.
Turning her gaze to Rogue, she smiled, noting that she and Jubilee were wrapped together, much as she was to Jean. Jean gave her another little squeeze, which she returned. It was rare for them to display their close relationship so openly, but times as these brought it out in them both.
Kitty left Logan to join Scott, smiling tearfully at them all. “I’ll be back for Thanksgiving. I promise.”
They all nodded, some of them waving as Scott ushered her out of the door, mouthing an “I love you” to his fiancée. When the door closed, Rogue and Jubilee rushed to the living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the car as it pulled away, holding hands as though they were anchoring one another to the earth.
“I never gets any easier to watch them leave, my X-men,” Charles said quietly, rolling his wheelchair away.
Jean urged Ororo toward the kitchen, keeping her arms around her. Ororo fell into the sisterly embrace laying her head on the taller woman’s shoulder.
“I love you, dear,” Jean said with a smile. “I’ll love you til the sky falls down and the clouds dance in the street…”
“I love you, dear,” Ororo continued their verse. “I’ll love you til the oceans wash over the earth and the waters lap at our feet.”
Storm leaned up, kissing the cheek of the only woman she could consider her sister as they entered the kitchen. Jean sighed softly, looking about with a hint of sorrow in her eyes.
“I’ll miss her. She’s been here so long, through most of the summers as well…it seems so strange that I won’t see her walk through the kitchen wall every morning.”
“I know,” Storm agreed, finally releasing her hold on Jean. “I am happy the others are staying on. I could not imagine how difficult another year would be where they all went on with their lives. Perhaps it comes with age, this feeling of an “empty nest”.”
Logan entered the kitchen, his cigar pinched between his lips as he rolled his eyes heavenward. He took a few steps to the window, peering out through the curtains Jean insisted on putting everywhere, no matter how often Ororo tried to argue that they were pointless.
“It’s not rainin’,” Logan stated, looking at the women over his shoulder. “Means at least ‘Ro’s got a handle on herself.”
Sneaking a look at his backside as he leaned over the booth, Ororo smirked to herself, wiping it away when Jean raised an eyebrow.
“I am quite in control, thank you,” she said primly. “That does not mean I will not miss our young friend.”
“Hell, I’ll miss ‘er. If only ‘cause she kept Rogue happy.”
“Aww. You’re really just a big teddy bear, aren’t you?” Jean teased, opening the fridge.
Storm nearly snorted with amusement, shaking her head at Logan. He straightened in his place, looking over at Jean as she rummaged through the refrigerator. Logan crooked a finger at Ororo, a sly smirk on his seductive mouth.
Taking careful steps, Ororo came around the island at his silent beckoning, a smile spreading even further across her lips. He reached for her the moment she was within range, drawing her to his chest with a single hand wrapped around her neck.
Humming quietly, she allowed him to kiss her quickly. Her own hands wound into his hair, wanting to deepen their kiss, but mindful that they were not alone. He inhaled deeply, his fingers dancing over the sensitive flesh of her neck, a familiar hum resonating through her body at his slightest touch.
“Can I come out now? My back is starting to hurt,” Jean grumbled, forcing Ororo and Logan apart.
Clearing her throat, Storm traced his whiskered chin with a fingertip for a moment before stepping away from him, taking the lettuce Jean handed her so that she could cut it up for dinner. It was still early, but Jean ran a tight ship.
Logan flopped into a chair across from them, watching as they worked together. Things had shifted, albeit just so, in her life since the night Logan had made her…snow. She smiled to herself at the thought, wondering what the emotion she felt was saying during that utterly passionate evening had invoked snowfall.
Something so stirring had consumed her with Logan’s touch. Perhaps it was seeing his feral side, knowing, on some level, it was because the Brotherhood had hurt her. Logan was possessive with anything that mattered to him and he was not, in any way, going to allow harm to come to the few people he could count on. She assumed he knew that he could trust her, that she would take any harm coming to him with equal fury.
They had said, that first night in her bedroom that they were not in love. Neither of them had discounted the possibility of falling, but at the time, it was not love. Now, however, Ororo could feel the swirl of him within her, knowing he touched a part of her soul that no one had ever been able to reach. With Logan, falling was terrifying and safe all in the same moment. She knew, without a doubt, that if he found something he wanted to hold on to, he would walk through Armageddon to keep it.
Had she become something worth fighting for? Hope was a dangerous thing, but she felt a tug in her heart every time Logan gave her that secretive smile, with every touch of his hands and lips. She bit her lip, concentrating on tearing the lettuce leaves for the Caesar dressing Jean was preparing, trying to work with Logan’s dark gaze following her every move.
As though waking with him was not enough to improve her mood for the entire day, she was beginning to notice that his scent had seeped into her bedroom and even most of her clothing. That deliciously male smell of cigars, leather, and sweat. She could sense it, even now, on her shirt and it gave her body a tingle.
Looking up as she moved to the sink, she noted Logan’s eyebrow was almost to his hairline; his nose lifted just slightly, nostrils twitching. Blushing a little beneath her dark skin, she winked, knowing he could smell her sudden change from his seat, hear the soft pounding of her heart as she remembered the way he held her, their bodies joined, hot kisses swallowing cries of pleasure.
His other eyebrow went up and she forced herself to turn from him, taking a deep breath as the wind picked up outside. She busied her trembling hands by washing the lettuce, noting Jean was looking between them, a smirk on her lips. Obviously they were…
“Ok, I can’t take this anymore. Logan, come here,” Jean said, setting the whisk she was using on the counter and motioning him closer.
“What?” he snapped out of his daze.
“I can’t sit here, in the same room with you two projecting like this. My mental link to Storm makes it horribly loud.”
Ororo dropped the bowl of lettuce into the sink. She had not even thought about the resident telepaths in the house. Of course they could empathically feel the emotion between Logan and herself, especially through the link with Storm’s mind.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated as the Professor has instructed, slamming the doors of her mental walls that led to her mentor and friend. She could almost hear him chuckling in her mind as she did so, wondering how long it would have taken them to bring it up.
“’Ro?” Logan asked gruffly.
Opening her eyes, she turned to him, nodding to Jean. “I am terribly sorry about that,” she apologized. “I was not thinking.”
Logan had a suspicious look on his face, making her step toward him, touching his hand gently. “Jean and the Professor can… “feel” whatever we feel, Logan, though on a much smaller scale. It is more like an…impression of feeling. Since Jean’s return, I have left my mental link to her open, allowing more emotion through it.”
“You’re naturally a loud “projector”, Logan. You feel things very close to the surface and for the most part, I can block it out,” Jean chimed in, smiling kindly. “But lately, when you two are in the same room, it’s overwhelming.”
Noting the scowl threatening to come over his features, Ororo cut in once more.
“Allow Jean to establish shields in your mind and she will not be able to feel anything more than a whisper any longer,” she offered, pleading with her eyes. “Nor will the Professor.”
“I’d rather have him do it, no offense, Jeanie,” Logan slid from the stool. “But I don’t want you pokin’ round my head just now.”
“Logan…” Ororo started after him, but he held a hand up, his back to her as he stomped from the room.
Sighing, she turned to Jean, whom was biting her lip, looking more than a little worried.
“Do not fret, my dear one,” Ororo soothed her, her words more confident than she felt. “He was merely surprised. I will speak with him later.”
“I didn’t mean…”
Storm kissed her cheek, turning back to the lettuce, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Things had just shifted again and she was unsure what the outcome would be. Logan was a private man, the idea that someone could read him was no doubt disturbing. For a moment, Ororo almost asked Jean what she sensed from him, but decided against it.
She had tried to say it to him, what she felt in her heart when they were together, but the words would not leave her lips. He had understood, and said she knew where he stood as well. In honesty, she thought she did, but there was a small nudge of fear whenever she allowed herself to think it.
Pushing those thoughts away, Ororo went back to the lettuce. She would work things out with Logan later.
~@~
The children came in from their run around the grounds, tired, aching, and ravenous. Ororo and Jean sent them off to the showers before feeding them, laughing at their antics as Scott returned with Peter. The younger man looked incredibly sad and excused himself to his bedroom early on.
Logan had come in from the run and not said a word to Storm. Hurt by his seeming indifference more than an angry shouting match would have, she turned away, not bothering to enjoy the view of his sweat-soaked t-shirt clinging to his muscular chest.
When he went upstairs, Ororo had to force herself to pay attention to the children, whom were all very excited about Logan’s new training. Even Jubilee had a grin on her face as she iced down her knees.
Once her duty was done in the kitchen, she headed toward her classroom. School was to start in a few weeks and she had an alarming amount of work to get done before then. Jeffery, her rescuer from the incident in Chicago, would join three more new students. There was little time to spend chasing after Wolverine.
As though he heard her think his name, a low whistle came from the garage doorway, making her pull up short. Logan stood in the open doorway, a leather jacket over a white t-shirt and his trademark jeans. In his hands, she noted her own coat and a helmet.
“Ride with me?” he questioned quietly.
Without even a backward glance to her classroom, she accepted the invitation. Moving across the hall to him, she took the jacket and helmet, following him into the dimly lit garage. He walked to Scott’s motorcycle instantly, straddling the padded seat and kicking the engine until it roared to life.
Ororo shrugged into her thick coat, more for the protection from flying insects and injury in case they crashed than anything, she pulled the helmet onto her head and fastened the strap. Swallowing hard, she swung her legs onto the bike, settling behind Logan and wrapping her arms about his waist. Once she was secure, he opened the garage doors with the little electronic button attached to the handlebars.
The instant they had sufficient room, Logan gave the cycle enough gas that the front wheel popped up from the ground. Her eyes wide, she tried not to cling to him as the tire met earth again and they shot out of the garage at a breakneck speed. Trust. She trusted him. He would never do anything that would harm her.
It took her a moment to hook the heel of her boots onto the small metal bars so she could rest her legs, enjoying the vibration of the bike and the warmth of Logan’s back against her chest. They did not speak as he left the mansion’s grounds, heading west. She was curious as to his reasons for taking them away from the mansion, but knew he would tell her when he was ready.
She relaxed against him, content with the silence, trusting him to take her wherever they needed to go.
~@~
Logan slowed the motorbike down nearly an hour later, turning it from the highway onto a dirt road. Ororo had a grin on her face, though he could not see it. She enjoyed speed, and had as long as she could remember. Riding the bike was nearly as thrilling as riding the winds, Logan’s presence only heightened that.
He pulled to a stop, placing his legs on either side of the bike. She was careful not to move, allowing him to settle the bike’s balance as they halted. He flipped the kickstand down with a foot, cutting the engine before turning to nod at her.
Carefully, Storm swung her legs from the bike, standing beside it a moment to steady herself. Knees sore, she swayed a little, kept upright when Logan reached for her, waiting until she nodded before letting go and sliding from the seat as well. Storm unclasped the helmet and removed it, shaking her hair in the light breeze. Placing the black protective device on the seat, she turned to look around, slipping the coat from her shoulders and folding it over the seat as well.
They were on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by large boulders. The view was breathtaking and she moved closer, her feet making soft crunching noises as she walked through the underbrush. She could see a small town below them, the houses and buildings looking little more than playthings from the height.
“This is beautiful, Logan,” she whispered, her feet finally meeting the edge.
He merely grunted in response, not moving from the bike. Wanting to clench her fists and scream in irritation, she lowered herself to the ground, dangling her legs over the edge of the cliff, settling her hands behind her so she could prop up on them, enjoying the view.
“Why did you bring me here if you are merely going to grunt at me? I cannot help it that Jean and the Professor are telepaths and that what I feel for you is so very powerful they can sense it,” she said, ire rising in her even as she tried to focus on the beauty of this place.
For several minutes there was no sound other than the sweet wind meandering through the mountain pass. She did her best to remain aloof, and succeeded in keeping the skies clear, but she was painfully aware of his hard stare on her back.
She heard his jacket rustle and assumed he had removed it. Moments later, his boots crunched a path to her and finally she looked over to see him crouched beside her, eyes on the town hundreds of meters below them.
“I came here months ago, when I was on my way back from Alkali Lake,” he began gruffly. “I’d promised the kid I’d be back, but I stopped here to think it over. If I went back, I’d be formin’ a tie to the place, to everyone in it.”
Ororo watched him silently, tucking her hair behind her ear as the wind continued on.
“I thought bout everythin’ Chuck had told me, the fight with Magneto and your damn speech about choosin’ sides,” he paused, and she smirked to herself. She adored that memory of him, the surprise on his face when she refused to back down.
“It occurred to me that I didn’t have anythin’ to believe in,” he turned to her slowly, dark eyes meeting hers. “An’ when I thought about what he was doin’ with his school, I realized it was somethin’ to believe in. Maybe the only good thing I’d had in fifteen years.”
A lump formed in her throat for the hundredth time, hearing the faith he had placed in the school. It echoed in his words, which seemed to come from the buried part of him she had only seen glimpses of.
“Until you.”
Her heart leaped into her throat, her eyes going wider than she could imagine them being.
“I believe in Rogue, but she’s somethin’ I have to take care of. Like a sister or somethin’, an extension of me. The school, the idea that we could teach these kids somethin’, that they deserved everythin’ I didn’t have, that led me to you.”
His voice was a whisper on the wind, but she heard every word, locking them all away in her memory.
“You’re different,” Logan said at last. “I believe in you, I trust you, even though I don’t know why sometimes. Everything good is inside you and I want that. You walk into a room and it’s instantly all right, no matter what’s happenin’. You became the light on the dark side of me.”
“Logan…” she tried to speak, but was cut off when he cupped her cheek with one hand.
“We said it wasn’t love, but if this isn’t it, I don’t know what is.”
It took her a moment to process his words around the hum of emotion inside her and the frantic pace of her heart. She covered his hand with one of her own, taking his cheek in the other as she shifted to sit up without the aid of her arms.
“I believe in you, Logan,” Ororo whispered, knowing he could hear her. “I have since the moment I met you in the Professor’s office.”
He blinked a little, as though allowing her words to settle. She scooted a little closer, dropping her hand from his to place it over his heart, smiling when his hand followed her, resting over hers.
“And I believe in us.”
Not able to speak further, she covered his lips with hers, pulling him as close as she could until he was on his knees in front of her. Everything she could feel between them was poured into the simple gesture of intimacy, hoping he could feel it. Hoping he could tell that she loved him.
When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t want Jean tellin’ you all that before I could.”
She smiled a little. “So that explains your mood.”
He grunted in agreement. “I had Chuck put those shields she was talkin’ bout up. He didn’t even ask. I walked into his office an’ he told me to sit down. Five minutes later, he said he couldn’t feel anythin’ an’ that was that.”
“I should have warned you. I have lived with them so long…”
“Shh. Its ok. I was just surprised. I definitely didn’t want Jean in my head.”
Pulling back a little as jealousy crept into her, she fixed him with a hard stare.
“Why not?”
As if sensing her mood shift, Logan pulled her right back to him, speaking against her lips.
“I don’t want anyone knowin’ peekin’ at what we do behind closed doors, ‘Ro. It’s not her business an’ I don’t need her all jealous of ya.”
Unable to remain angry with him, no matter how hard she tried, Ororo chuckled against his mouth. “Have you finally flushed my red-haired sister from your system?”
“Ororo,” he said seriously. “She was gone before I kissed you the first time.”
She grinned again, wrapping her arms about his neck and roughly pulling him down, lying on her back.
“I remember that night,” she nipped at his lips, the wind kicking up around them as her body instantly began to respond to him.
Ororo felt him grin, though whether it was a response to her words or her growing arousal, she could not tell. His hands slid down her sides, stopping at her hips. She moved her legs apart, allowing him to settle between them. The movements were flawless, as though they knew instinctively what the other was going to do.
“I do too,” his voice was a low growl that sent gooseflesh rippling down her body. “Wanted to pull you into my lap right there in the theatre.”
She kissed him roughly, that mental image not doing a thing to cool her heated flesh. He tasted as good as always, cigars and beer mixed with the salty-sweet that was all his own. Sweeping her tongue into his mouth, she arched her hips into his, deciding here was an excellent place to be alone, after all.
Eager hands slid beneath her shirt, his calloused fingertips caressing her bare skin, making her moan into his mouth. Logan responded in kind as she copied his touches, wrenching the hem of his shirt from his jeans and pressing her hands to his flesh.
A nudge of apprehension pushed into her mind, making her pull back to blink it away. Logan’s mouth latched onto her throat, the warring sensation of wanting to rip his clothing off and a clinging fear making her head swim.
As if sensing her sudden change, Logan pulled away from her, staring at her in surprise.
“What?”
“I…I do not know,” she admitted, her breathing suddenly erratic.
Snikt!
Logan unsheathed his claws, only inches from Ororo’s face. Suddenly overcome with terror, she stayed below him, gathering her elements around them, cloaking them with fog the moment her eyes stung.
Wolverine moved into a crouch, allowing Storm to stand. She swirled the fog around them, hoping to keep them hidden from whatever was approaching them.
“Wolverine?”
“I can smell ‘em, an’ they ain’t friendly,” he muttered in response.
Suddenly, as though she had been stripped of her mental shields, Ororo heard the Professor’s voice in her head, shouting a warning.
Behind you!
Storm turned, swinging. The connection of her fist to an approaching attacker’s jaw cracked loudly in the silence, joined by Wolverine’s cry of rage. She heard him snarling, the metallic clink his skeletal structure made against the flesh of their opponents echoing through the small clearing.
Noting her fog was now a hindrance as opposed to help, she dissipated it quickly, eyes going wide when she came face to face with a familiar young man.
“Hey there, mutie. Gonna try that shit again?”
“By the Goddess,” she breathed, dropping into a crouch and swinging her leg around, knocking the boy to the ground.
“Hand!”
At Logan’s call, she turned, grabbing his hand and allowing him to flip her over his shoulder. Straightening a leg, she pounded the forehead of a young woman, knocking her flat on her back.
Storm landed on her feet, ducking low to avoid a body Wolverine negligently tossed off the cliff. She turned quickly, taking an electric current into her palm and slamming it into the chest of a man bearing down on Logan.
“They are human!” she cried over the din of battle. “Do not kill them!”
“They playin’ by your rules, darlin’?” Wolverine replied angrily, dodging a long Bowie knife one of the younger attackers had.
Storm, Wolverine, get back to the mansion. There are at least a dozen more in the woods.
“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” her lover said aloud, taking the boy Storm pushed toward him as she landed a roundhouse to the gut of an older man.
“We have our orders, Wolverine!” she called back, grasping a blond woman’s arm and twisting it until she fell to her knees.
With a thrust of her hand, Ororo broke the woman’s wrist, ignoring her yowls of pain and kicking her away in time to block a meaty fist aimed for her head.
She lost sight of Wolverine, but his growls and spitting snarls told her he was still fighting. The man before Storm twisted her, pulling her to his chest and wrapping an impossibly thick arm around her throat.
Unable to call for help and not willing to use her powers, she crunched the thick heel of her boot to the man’s instep, a sharp elbow to his solar plexus, and finally brought her foot up quickly between his legs.
He released her instantly, dropping to the floor, holding his family jewels with one hand. Breaking into a run, Ororo bolted for the motorbike, hopping onto the seat and flipping up the kickstand. Thanking Scott for making her take lessons, she started the ignition, not daring to turn around.
Angry shouts filtered through the noise of battle and the roar of the engine. She sighed with relief when Wolverine’s stocky form slid into place behind her.
“GO!”
He pushed her helmet onto her head, even as she squeezed her thighs against the sides of the bike and shot out of the clearing at an entirely unsafe velocity. She felt Logan’s familiar hands circle her waist as she skidded onto the highway, flattening herself against the bike as they raced faster from their secluded spot.
Logan shouted directions into her ear, obviously comfortable with her driving and they sped toward home. Storm’s mind reeled and her lover did not help with his final shout.
“That big one was the bastard that shot you!”
Chapter Sixteen: Remain by Gaineewop
Chapter Sixteen: Remain
“Where in hell did you learn how to drive, ‘Ro?” Logan asked the second she cut the motorbike’s engine.
Laughing, she turned to him, unfastening her helmet and shaking her snow-white hair.
“Scott, believe it or not,” she replied, her face suddenly screwing into an expression of horror as she reached behind her.
He swung his leg over the bike, staring in shock at Ororo’s back, which was covered in blood. Panic rising inside him, he reached forward, lifting her shirt up as he searched for the cause.
“It is not mine, Logan,” she said quickly, nearly jumping from the bike. “It is yours.”
Looking down at his own shirt, he shrugged, lifting it to bare the skin beneath a large bloodstain. “It was. All healed up. You hurt?”
She shook her glorious head worry still furrowing her brow. “Not at all, although I expect a little bruising from blocking.”
With a grunt, he grabbed her helmet and handed her the coat she had not bothered with during their escape. A hand on her lower back, he ushered her into the mansion, bracing himself for the flying ball of tears that would be Rogue.
Almost the instant he stepped through the doorway, there was a cry of “LOGAN!” and he was hit with the slender body of a seventeen year old girl, her little arms wrapping around him tightly.
“Hey, kid. I’m ok. We’re both ok,” he assured her, pulling back to kiss her hair.
“The Professor said there was some kind of trouble,” Cyclops said as he entered the hall with Jean and Hank hot on his heels.
“Storm!” Jean rushed forward, obviously spotting the blood on her shirt.
“I am uninjured,” his dark lover said softly. “Logan bled on me is all.”
Cyclops stopped directly in front of Logan, his mouth in a tight line. At first, Logan assumed he was in for a lecture about leaving the damned mansion without warning anyone. Or maybe he wanted to harp on them stealing his precious bike again. He was not, however, prepared for the hardy slap on the shoulder.
“Had us worried,” Scott said sincerely. “We were about to suit up when Jean sensed you were close by.”
Trying to not gape in complete shock, Logan nodded with a grunt.
“Thanks.”
An uncomfortable silence was broken when the Professor wheeled into the room, looking over them both carefully. His blue gaze paused on Logan, then on Ororo as if trying to assess the damage.
“A police report has already been filed about the body at the bottom of the cliff,” his eyes shot back to Logan. “But as the victim smelled rather badly of alcohol, they assume it was an accident. None of your attackers have come forward.”
Surprising even Logan, Ororo marched up to the Professor, thunder clapping loudly above them. One look at his lover’s tense form and he bolted across the room, running over the table to stand behind her.
“You frightened me, Charles!” she shouted. “How could you do that to me?”
Confused, Logan looked to Jean. She inclined her head just so and a moment later, she was inside his mind.
The Professor projected fear into her so that she would notice something was wrong. With her mental shields up, it was hard to break into her mind to warn her.
That’s nice of him. She smelled fuckin’ terrified.
I think he went a little overboard, yes.
Great. Nice goin’, Chuck.
There was a long silence, broken only by Ororo’s massive thunderclaps above. Logan tentatively reached out, taking her arm gently and leaning forward to whisper into her ear.
“Not now, darlin’. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
Chuck sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“You forget, Ororo, how strong your mental shields are. I did not wish to harm you by breaking them,” he apologized gently.
Logan felt ‘Ro take a deep breath, the thunder rumbling as it retreated. Keeping his hold on her arm, Logan sensed her tension subside and without warning, she kissed Chuck’s forehead.
“Never again, Charles. Promise me that,” she whispered. Logan’s advanced hearing ensured that no one else heard her words.
“You have that promise, my dear,” he vowed just as softly.
“Now that’s settled,” Logan said more loudly than he needed to. “Just how in hell did you know what was goin’ on?”
The Professor looked around at them all, sizing them up one by one. He closed his eyes for a moment and soon Jubilee, Bobby, Hank, and Peter joined them.
“Sit down, all of you,” he commanded, leaving no room for argument.
Logan grabbed a chair from the dining room, turning it over so he could straddle it. Scott and Jean took the loveseat. Peter, Bobby, Rogue and Jubilee crammed themselves onto the sofa and Ororo perched on the armrest that happened to be right next to Logan. Hank occupied an overstuffed armchair that seemed much too small for his huge form.
Pressing his fingers into that now familiar triangle, the Professor began to speak.
“I received a tip only an hour ago from one of my contacts in the FBI that a radical anti-mutant group has been active in the last few months. They call themselves “Friends of Humanity” and their goal is the elimination of all mutants.”
“Elimination?” Scott asked from his seat.
“They firmly believe that all mutants should be rounded up and murdered, for the sake of humanity’s survival,” Chuck went on. “And they will stop at nothing to see that goal come to fruition.”
“One of the men that attacked us was the same asshole that took a shot at ‘Ro,” Logan chimed in, claws poking at his skin the more he thought about it.
“Logan,” his lover instantly chided for his swearing before she went on. “The first I saw was the ringleader of the attack on Kitty and Rogue a few weeks ago.”
“Do you think the incidents are related?” Jean asked, her green eyes filled with worry.
The Professor was silent for a moment, the scent of anxiety so powerful Logan nearly sneezed. To his horror, Chuck’s eyes rested on Storm.
“I believe they are hunting Ororo.”
Stunned silence followed this statement. Logan’s claws very nearly unsheathed as the urge to locate the bastards overwhelmed him. A delicate hand pressed against his, preventing him from allowing the adamantium to rip through his flesh.
“Professor?” Storm’s voice was as calm as ever, not even a hint of fear reached Logan’s sensitive nose.
“Your appearance in Chicago was unexpected, at least to the Friends. However, it is my belief that when they saw a demonstration of your power, you became their greatest enemy.”
“Fear turns tah hate,” Rogue said quietly, her eyes on Storm.
“That it does, my girl,” Ororo replied, still as cool as ever.
“Ororo, I am afraid I must confine you to the grounds until we can locate the man with a price on your head. I am sorry, my child, but I fear for your safety until we can manage this threat,” Chuck told her as gently as one could make a prison sound.
“Yeah. Which’ll be in about five fuckin’ minutes,” Logan snarled, standing from his chair.
“I’m coming with you,” One-Eye said as he jumped up from the couch. “We’ll take the car back to the cliff and see if you can pick up a scent…”
“Stop!”
Both men turned to Storm, whom was standing beside the Professor. She glared at Logan intently, shaking her head from side to side gently.
“It will not do to have you both out there without any hint as to what you are up against. Please, remain here. For my sake,” she said in a ringing tone.
Goddamn it, ‘Ro, he thought bitterly.
One look to Cyclops told him the other man shared his sentiment. Neither of them could deny a direct request from her, especially once Jean moved to join her, looking just as angry as Ororo did.
“You’re not helping,” Jean snapped. “We should stick together and formulate a plan.”
“I agree. Scott, will accompany me to the War Room. Jean, Henry, and Bobby will take the jet to Washington, Director Jameson is waiting to meet with you,” the Professor’s orders were clipped and final.
“Storm, begin an intensive training schedule with Rogue, Colossus, Jubilee and Wolverine against fighting human opponents and without use of your powers.”
The last command had a strange air about it, making Logan’s eyes dart to Storm, whom stared at their leader in surprise.
But it was Scott who spoke next. “We’re dividing the X-Men into two teams. I’m going to lead the Blue Team and Storm will lead the Gold Team.”
Logan could almost hear the jaws dropping to the floor from everyone in the room. Ororo blinked rapidly, looking from a smiling Scott to a nodding Xavier, her hands trembling as she tried to process what they were saying.
“Jubilee, of course, is merely a reserve until she has had more training. She will remain here as your contact, should you need to leave for a mission, until next summer.”
That didn’t stop the youngest member of the Gold Team from grinning. At least she knew she was now considered an X-Man.
“They aren’t ready,” Logan blurted quickly. “They need more training.”
“Unfortunately, Logan, we don’t have time. With the Brotherhood of Mutants, the remnants of Stryker’s task force and now the Friends of Humanity, we must remain on guard,” came the cool response.
“We know this is a big change, but we think it’s for the best,” Scott continued. “Besides, I like to think Storm deserves a promotion.”
All eyes turned to the white-haired mutant woman, whom took a few steps, enveloping Scott in an affectionate hug. Logan had to trample the urge to throttle him, reminding himself that they were closer than brother and sister.
When they broke apart, Scott looked over her shoulder to the Professor.
“What do you say, Professor, can the Blue Team’s mission wait one night? We should celebrate.”
He gave the Blue Team leader a small smile, nodding his agreement.
“Yes, though I ask you remain on the grounds during your celebration.”
The youngest X-Men cheered and began talking at once, Scott and Logan looked at one another and nodded.
“We’ll go to the store,” they said in unison.
Unfortunately, no one was fooled and Hank went to the market with Peter.
~@~
Things had gone well in the month since the X-Men had been broken into teams. Students had begun to trickle back into the mansion from the middle of July onward, until the place was brimming with laughter and childish bickering. Logan and Ororo found themselves frequent babysitters as they worked toward a new school year.
Jean and Bobby had returned from Washington two days after leaving. They had said, rather sadly, that Hank had remained behind to try and ferret out more information from the FBI. According to his weekly reports, he was having very little luck.
Training had been grueling, mostly because Ororo was never satisfied with the way the team performed. She and Logan had many an argument regarding that particular quirk of hers, and she usually ended them by pulling rank and pushing the team through yet another session. He usually took out his anger on the first unsuspecting hologram. It worked for them.
Of course, her method seemed to have merit. The team was pulling together, working as one seamless unit. Even Jubilee had taken a serious turn, pushing herself harder than anyone else did. She and Rogue had an eerie way of knowing what the other was doing and it worked nearly every time.
Rogue was also taking private lessons in some of the more deadly arts with Logan. They scheduled practices at ridiculous hours of the day or night, working until the girl could barely move. He knew it was because she felt vulnerable, and she knew that he knew.
Colossus had snapped out of his post-Kitty haze, though Logan heard rumblings around the mansion that Kitty had called any kind of relationship with him off. For a day or two, he had withdrawn completely, but after Storm got hold of him, he returned to the living world and seemed to be getting along fine.
Scott’s Blue Team was doing just as well, if not better. It was an older team, with the exception of Bobby, who took to missions and training like a duck to water. Jean and Scott had high praise for him and Jubilee, who trained with both teams and remained a wildcard, was constantly going on about his developing skills.
Hank was due home within a few days, taking over the science classes to help ease the burden on the other teachers. All in all, it was one hell of a hectic lifestyle, prompting Logan to ask ‘Ro about running away every day.
Of course, he wouldn’t. He had promises to keep to two different women, one of whom was confined to the grounds for as long as the Professor deemed necessary. Everyone attempted to entertain her when they could, but she was run ragged by the start of the school year anyway.
That fact irritated Logan to no end.
It became apparent nearly as soon as the students arrived that half of them depended on Ororo for just about everything. While Rogue, Bobby, and Peter worked for their teaching credentials, they leaned on Storm for any tiny amount of help she could provide. Jean and Scott constantly had one crisis or another that they needed her advice for and the Professor couldn’t go two hours without requesting her presence in his office.
That left Logan, who had his own classes and training exercises to plan, with very little time alone with his lover. The “honeymoon phase” as Scott called it, was definitely over. At best, she would fall into bed around midnight, curl up in his arms and pass out after he received his token kiss.
To say he was sexually frustrated was extremely mild. Ororo had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, her voice reaching a slightly higher pitch only he could detect with every urgent summons. He held her when she slept, if only to assure her he was not going to lash out because of their sudden lack of physical intimacy. He knew, without a doubt, that his frustration had not gone unnoticed.
“Logan?”
Ororo’s voice brought him sharply from his musings. He lay across her bed, still undressed as the dawn light stained the sky out of doors. Looking over to the bathroom door, he grinned at her own state of undress.
Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, she had a toothbrush in her mouth, clad in only a t-shirt at least one size too small and a pair of lacy panties…and socks, of course. She smiled at him around her mouthful of toothpaste, raising a brow.
“Are you nervous?”
“Bout what?” he grunted, hardening the longer he stared at her.
“Your first day of school, my Logan,” she said, taking the toothbrush from her mouth quickly.
He’d become quite used to the endearment, expecting it at their most intimate moments…such as just after a bath or brushing one’s teeth. He could see those events were more important to her than a thousand climactic moments of bliss. It was her way of laying a claim to him, not that he minded in the least.
“I’m not five, ‘Ro,” he returned, flipping onto his side so she wouldn’t be confronted with his responsive body. “I’ll be fine.”
“Just remember, no hitting,” she winked at him, turning back into the bathroom to finish her grooming.
He growled as softly as he could, watching the sway of her hips as she bent to rinse the mint-toothpaste from her mouth. If he had to go without sex, she definitely needed to stop being so damn sexy.
He knew he had to get up. The older students had a Danger Room session first thing, and that included a run around the grounds. After that, he had the youngest for P.E., which consisted of dodgeball and stretching. He called that his “break”. Just after lunch, the middle group came in for an introduction course in self-defense and his last class was Tactics and Battle training.
That had been his idea, which Scott seemed a little unnerved by. He actually had a classroom for that one, where he would showcase battles of both mutants and humans while discussing various strategies and tactics.
‘Ro had a full schedule as well, her history courses were usually very in depth, given her meticulous ways. He had the distinct impression that he was going to need every hint of restraint in his body just to make it through the day without pouncing on her.
“Logan?” her voice brought him up sharply again.
She stood beside the bed, still undressed, and without a hint of makeup. Sniffing the air, he inwardly smirked when he could still smell himself on her. How he had slipped so easily into this relationship was a bit of a blur, but it was obvious to him that Ororo was his match. He was holding on to that with both hands and duct tape.
For some reason, it did not bother him that they had never come right out and said those three little words that would have “sealed the deal”.
“What in the world are you thinking about?” she questioned, moving a little closer.
“You,” he said honestly.
Smiling prettily, she kneeled on the bed, shifting quickly until she sat astride his thighs. The simple action made him bite back a groan, his hands sliding over her muscled legs.
“What about me?”
“I want you,” he fairly growled, arching his hips up for emphasis.
“Do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He inhaled sharply, catching the scent of arousal coming from her as she rocked her hips back into his.
“Playin’ with fire, darlin’,” Logan warned.
“Playing would insinuate that I am teasing you, my Logan,” she whispered, leaning down to speak against his lips. “I intend on doing far more than tease.”
He looked at her cautiously for a moment, trying to ignore the thudding in his veins, the howling ache deep inside of him that screamed for her touch, to be joined with her again.
“Yeah?” his groaned as her hands smoothed over his bare chest, nails scraping over his flat nipples.
“It has been far too long,” she licked his bottom lip. “And I do believe we have thirty minutes before we have to be downstairs.”
“Fair enough,” he growled in response.
Snikt!
He unsheathed a claw, slipping it under the hem of her too-small t-shirt, dragging the blunt end across her skin. Ororo’s hips twisted in his lap, her head falling back as she moaned his name.
“An’ here I was, thinkin’ how you like the non-sex stuff,” he quipped, pulling his hand forward quickly, effectively ripping the front of her shirt in half.
“There is a time and place for everything, Logan,” Ororo gasped as he dragged the adamantium down the smooth expanse of her belly, eyes on her swaying chocolate breasts.
He slid the claw to her thighs, watching as she shifted so he could work it under the stringy band of her panties to slice them as well. This had to be the fifth time her clothing had come off via adamantium. If they weren’t careful, she’d have no clothes left.
“Why does this turn you on?” he grunted under the steady rocking of her hips, pulling her shredded shirt and panties from her.
“Because it is you, Logan, a part of you. Any part of your body creates an ache within me,” she whimpered in response.
Logan was damn glad he tended to sleep in the buff. She had pulled the blanket away at some point and the instant her panties were off, the smell of her wetness hit him like a Mack truck, her words sinking into that tucked away part of his soul he reserved for himself alone.
Before he could move, Ororo took matters into her own hands. Literally. With a scoot on his thighs, a hand on his aching arousal and a twist of her hips, he was inside of her, eyes crossing at the exquisite feel of her enveloping him completely.
“Jesus, ‘Ro,” he gasped harshly, reaching up to palm her breasts.
“Logan,” she groaned. “Too long.”
“No…shit…ah, God.”
He sat up as best he could, his hips bucking to meet her every move. Clamping his mouth over her taut nipple, he felt the wind around them kick up. Ororo’s hand fisted in his hair, keeping him in place as she upped the pace of her thrusts just a little.
Growls mixed with her sultry moans filled the room. It was early, so not many were moving about on the teacher’s level. At least that gave the kids some measure of ignorance as to what was happening.
Their bodies quickly coated in sweet, Logan’s skin tingling with the electric current Ororo always supplied during their lovemaking. He took his mouth from her nipple, latching onto the pulse point of her neck. Her head was thrown back, giving him complete access to her soft skin.
His free hand worked its way between them as he pulled her mouth to his, tasting the mint of her toothpaste and that hint of chocolate she always seemed to have on her. Her tongue swept into his mouth, dueling with his for dominance just as his fingertips located the bundle of nerves beneath the white curls at the juncture of her thighs.
He could feel the slickness of her arousal soaking them both, while he rolled her clit between his wet fingers. She groaned into his mouth, her hips jerking as she rode him. He would always find a measure of perfection this way. There was nothing between them, no school, no missions, no FoH bastards out for her blood. Only their labored breathing, aching bodies and pounding hearts were present in this embrace.
Logan took his mouth from hers, falling back against the bed as her inner muscles tightened and released around him. He gripped her hips in his hands, guiding her over him, hoping she would reach climax before he did. His eyes traveled to where they were joined, watching his cock slip in and out of her as she moved.
“Aw, fuck,” he growled, not able to tear his gaze away.
Ororo’s eyes were on him, he could feel it, and her suddenly harsh gasps told him she liked what she saw.
“Harder,” she panted on a moan.
Answering her plea, Logan’s fingertips dug into her hips, holding her in place while he thrust upward. Not finding the friction he needed, he growled, sitting up and pushing her onto her back. Long, dark legs instantly hooked over his shoulders and his next thrust took him deeper inside her.
Letting himself go, he heard the wind screaming around them, not caring who knew what they were up to. Ororo clenched her teeth together, obviously holding back a very loud scream. Logan could feel her inner walls clench him tightly and he knew it was close.
Pounding into her almost savagely, Logan fisted his hands in the comforter of her bed. She was always perfect, always hotter, tighter, wetter than he remembered. It was like the first time, every single time. Something about that made it damn near indescribable.
“Logan…”
“’Ro…fuck…”
She reached up, gripping his shoulders with one hand, the other sliding between them to rub her clitoris frantically. Throwing his own head back, he growled loudly, the sound carried away by her furious winds, spilling himself into her with a few more rigid thrusts.
Ororo climaxed a beat later, the veins in her throat protruding with her restraint as she fought back a scream. He leaned down to suckle the thick ropes of her veins as she came down from her high, her body relaxing against his.
Logan finally allowed himself to collapse, rolling at the last possible moment to prevent crushing her to death with the weight of his metallic skeleton.
They lay that way for a moment, breathing hard, as Ororo reigned in her mutation. The wind died down, their post-coital glow interrupted by a polite knock on the door.
“Scott Summers, if you do not leave immediately, I will allow Wolverine to disembowel you. And I will enjoy it!” his lover called, making him chuckle.
“Just saying…”
“More discreet, I know, Scott…but there are times when that simply is not an option.”
“Leaving!”
Running footsteps told Logan that Cyclops had taken his leave, probably more because he didn’t want details rather than fear of Ororo’s threat.
“I fear we must move, Logan,” she said, groaning as she sat up. “We do have class.”
Logan nodded, sliding off of her bed, testing the air with his mutated nose. He loved to smell him on her, the heady scent of her, sex, and him. It made his animalistic side of him want to strut. Mine.
“Yes, Logan, yours,” she said quietly, standing.
He startled, realizing he’d said that last bit aloud.
“Do not worry, my darling,” she whispered, kissing his lips gently. “I do not mind belonging to you.”
Logan’s mouth refused to work. She pointed those fathomless blue eyes to him, the undisguised emotion in them making his knees weak.
“The question is have you found a place where you belong?”
He remembered their talk in One-Eye’s classroom weeks before, when she had asked him a similar question. At the time, he didn’t have an answer, and with it staring him in the face now, he felt a twinge of apprehension. Had he? After all these years was he content to live among children and geeks fighting for a lost cause?
“I think so,” he replied, unable to think clearly when she looked at him that way.
Her smile said more than a thousand words. “Progress.”
He grunted. She laughed. And the world was right again.
Chapter Seventeen: Magneto by Gaineewop
Chapter Seventeen: Magneto
“God….no…please…dark…‘Ro…NO!”
Ororo woke with a start, pain zinging through her body the moment her eyes opened. An adamantium-laced arm had smacked her directly in the nose. Holding the throbbing appendage, she turned in her bed, crying out when she noted Logan’s flailing limbs and tear-stained face.
“Logan?” she dodged another of his thrashing limbs, shaking his shoulder. “My darling, wake. It is only a dream.”
“Ororo! I’m comin’! Too small…she can’t….its too small! RO!”
His scream nearly tore her heart from her chest. Choking back a sob, she lay flat on her back as he pinned her, screaming her name.
“LOGAN!” she called, trying to rouse his conscious mind.
“STORM!”
Scott was outside her bedroom door, shouting for her, the handle jiggling as he tried in vain to open it without much force. She could hear running footsteps as the others joined him, trying to coax an answer from her with frightened voices and pleading cries.
She paid them no mind, her every thought focused on her frenzied lover. Logan’s eyes were open, but she could see there was no comprehension in them. She reached for him again, this time met with a furious snarl.
“Logan? It is all right. I am here,” she pled, moving slowly to touch him.
His screamed another growl and Ororo held her breath.
SNIKT!
For one terrifying moment, Logan’s claws were aimed directly at her pounding heart. She kept her eyes open, not daring to blink them, refusing to fear him. A flicker passed over his eyes and his claws descended faster than she could think, though his hand shifted in mid-thrust.
The instant his claws grazed her flesh, Ororo exhaled, grabbing Logan’s face in her hands. The door blew open a heartbeat later and the combination of his claws buried in the mattress with Scott’s intrusion finally shocked Logan out of his nightmare.
“’Ro…”
“Shh,” she soothed him. “I am not hurt. It is all right.”
“Storm?” Scott’s voice wavered.
She could only assume what a horror he had come upon. Logan’s claws were embedded in the mattress, the adamantium had pierced her nightgown, pinning her to the bed. She felt the sting of three tiny cuts at her ribcage.
“Ororo…did I?”
“You missed,” she grinned shakily, knowing that in ten seconds he would smell her blood. “Paper cuts, nothing more.”
The terror in his eyes wrenched her heart even further. Before he could move, she clamped her legs around his waist, his eyes locked onto hers. She had to reach him, now, to ensure him he had missed intentionally in his nightmare.
“Logan, you nearly stabbed me in the heart,” she said bluntly. “Something changed your aim and you hit the mattress instead. You knew it was me, on some level, my love.”
It was the first time she had used such an endearment for him and the recognition registered in his eyes before it was replaced with that same terrible fear. Fear of what he had done, of what he could have done, shook him to the depths of his soul. She could see all of it and knew, little by little she was losing her hold on him.
Ororo heard Scott heading off the curious students, most of whom knew of Logan’s nightmares. Most of them had violent nightmares after the turbulent events of the last year and it was somewhat comforting to them knowing that the big, bad Wolverine was not exempt.
“I will return with a med-kit,” Hank said quickly, excusing himself.
A single tear fell from Logan’s eyes onto Ororo’s cheek. Heart breaking, she wiped his tears away though her nose still ached from the force of his flailing arm. She would not allow him to move until he realized she was all right, until she knew he could move beyond this trial.
“Logan, do not blame yourself. You were having a nightmare, an ailment that affects most in our line of work,” she crooned, stroking his cheek gently.
“Most people can’t kill ya in their sleep, ‘Ro,” he sniffed, his face betraying his fear as he finally smelled her blood.
Dark eyes raked down her body, stopping at her left ribcage, his eyes widening in complete horror.
“I can’t pull them out without makin’ it worse,” he choked.
“I know. Do not move and do not leave this room once I release you. Promise me,” she demanded, tightening her legs around him.
“I promise,” his whisper was filled with pain.
Slowly, Ororo released him, untangling her legs gently, trying to not spook him into rashness. Hearing the return of both Scott and Hank, she glanced over, noting that both men were poised to move. Jean stood behind them, her hand covering her mouth.
Carefully, she reached for her nightdress and unbuttoned the front, allowing her to slip out of it, leaving Logan’s claws jammed into the springs of her bed. Once she was clear, she stood, taking the towel Jean appeared with and covering herself as someone flicked the lights on.
Snikt.
Logan retracted his claws, but when Ororo turned, he had not moved from the bloodstain leaking into the bed. He looked at it as though it were a dying child and he the murderer. Ororo shrugged Jean away, heedless to the pain from the minor damage to her side, reaching for Logan’s shoulder.
“I’m gonna have to break a promise, ‘Ro,” he said quietly, flinching from her touch.
“Logan…”
“I’m sorry.”
He grabbed his jeans, which had been hanging over the bedpost and pulled them over his boxer shorts. Ororo watched in a kind of numb disbelief as he turned and walked to the door, snarling at Scott and Henry to get out of his way.
“Logan!” Ororo’s pursuit was cut short when a stabbing pain raced through her side. Gasping through it, she clutched her injured ribcage and reached for her sister.
“Jean…”
The red-haired telepath urged her back onto the bed, calling for Henry with the medical kit. As expected, the three cuts were barely a cause for fuss. Looking down, Ororo noted they were only an inch or so long, so thin they were barely noticeable, save for the blood trickling down her hip.
“You have quite a few capillaries there,” Jean explained. “Its an easy place to bleed from.”
After a quick cleaning, though Jean said, quite aptly, that Logan could literally carry no infection; the injury was bandaged. Henry handed her a mild pain reliever and diagnosed her nose as not broken, much to everyone’s surprise.
Before any of them could ask what had happened, Ororo pulled on Logan’s shirt and marched to the door.
“He did not mean any harm. He knew I was there,” she announced from the doorway. “And that is why I am still alive.”
“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous.”
Smack!
Scott held his cheek in his hand as Ororo glared at him, her palm stinging with the force she had hit him with. Jean and Henry stared in open-mouthed shock from the bed, unable to even speak.
“Do not ever say such a thing again. Do you understand me, Scott?” she said, her voice naught but a deadly calm whisper.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”
With that, Ororo turned on her heel and moved to search for Logan. She pulled up short when the sound of a motorcycle’s engine screamed into the night.
Logan was gone.
~@~
He had not returned by morning or that evening or even the morning after that. Ororo slept on her new bed, wrapped in one of his abandoned shirts. It smelled of him, and faintly of her. His toothbrush remained in its holder, his shampoo still in its place beside hers in the shower. Everything was as he left it.
Except for Ororo.
Though she tried to be angry with him, it would not come. Only the rain betrayed her sorrow, leaving her eyes as dry as ever. It had rained from the moment she heard the motorcycle peel out of the driveway, taking her love into the night. She had been asked several times to slow the downpour, but she refused. If he was close by, as she thought he was, the rain would tell him all he needed to know about her emotions.
It would rain until he returned.
The nightmare had been the first Friday of the school year, leaving Ororo to mope about for an entire weekend. Here, Sunday afternoon, she lay in her bed, praying he would come home. His shirt was far too large, giving her enough room to draw her entire body, save her socked feet, into its embrace. She inhaled deeply, the scent of him making her heart hurt even more.
Her injury had scabbed over already and the cream Henry had given her would minimize the scarring, which would be slight even without it. It was nothing to the scar on her heart, the truth that Logan had broken not one, but two promises to her.
Rogue sat on the edge of her bed, cross-legged, her testing book open in her lap, a pencil pinched between her teeth, as Logan would a cigar. It was sweet, really, watching her scowl at the book when her answers came out wrong. As though a piece of Logan had remained here with her, in the form of his favorite person on the face of the planet.
She had seldom left Ororo’s side since hearing about the incident. She had agreed with Jean’s assessment that Logan would return, but only when he realized that Ororo had not been afraid. Rogue, of course, had ranted for the better part of two hours about his leaving, stating on no uncertain terms that she would have a word with him the second he set foot back in the mansion. Ororo was sure Scott would be selling ringside tickets to the fight of the century. That one was sure to shatter windows and send dogs howling five miles over.
“All right, that doesn’t make sense,” Rogue muttered, getting Ororo’s attention.
“What is it, my girl?” she questioned, looking over to her, still clutching Logan’s pillow without really realizing it.
“The New York State Law says that yah have tah intern for over a year before yah can teach anythin’ above preschool.”
“Yes, dear one.”
“We have tah intern here?”
“Yes. But we have a much more hands on approach,” she replied with a smile.
Rogue grinned. “Liar. Yah just let us teach and pretend we’re bein’ watched.”
“Why yes, we do,” Ororo winked.
The Southern girl turned her eyes to the window, sighing as she placed her books in a neat stack on the floor. “All this rain’s real depressin’, ‘Roro.”
Blinking in confusion at the new name, she turned onto her back with a fond smile.
“Have I been given another nickname, Marie?”
Pushing her white-streak of hair from her eyes, Rogue nodded with a grin. “Ah can’t call yah ‘Ro, cause tha’s Logan’s name for yah. Storm is a codename and it seems too impersonal. So I dropped yah first O.”
Ororo sat back, contemplating this. “If you use it, I have no doubts that the other new X-Men will as well.”
“Probably right.”
Chuckling, she threw her hands up. “I will add it to my never-ending list of aliases.”
“Good. Now, come on. We’re goin’ tah get some ice cream. Maybe after a sugah rush you’ll let the sun shine for awhile.”
Rogue grabbed Ororo’s feet and tugged hard enough to make her sit up. Knowing the girl was as much, if not more, tenacious than even Logan, she sighed and stood, following her into the hall.
The trip to the kitchen was largely uneventful, though Ororo did receive a few pleading stares to end the rainstorm from her students. She ignored them, realizing she was being childish and blaming it on Logan’s bad influence.
Jean and Jubilee were already there, sharing a piece of chocolate cake smothered in ice cream, talking in a low tone. It was strange to think that both Jean and Ororo had “adopted” one of the new female X-Men, taking them each under their respective wings.
Both women looked up sharply from their conversation, grinning widely as Rogue paraded the seemingly reclusive Storm through the doorway.
“She lives,” Jubilee exclaimed with flair as Ororo entered the kitchen.
“That I do. Is there any ice cream left?”
“Yes, chocolate chip on the counter.”
Ororo halted for a moment, turning to the kitchen door and staring. Had she not thought, so often during Jean’s long absence about the kitchen and chocolate chip ice cream? Heart aching even more within her breast, she moved instantly to her friend and roped her into a tight embrace, inhaling deeply of the peppermint scent she would always associate with Jean. She broke away without a word, waving them all off as the rain beat more steadily against the windowpane.
The women respected her privacy and while Rogue gave her a quick hug as well, they continued their idle conversation whilst Jubilee fetched more bowls and spoons for their company.
Just as Rogue spooned the ice cream into bowls, a shrill call for “Doctor Grey” sounded from the hall.
Paying no attention to her unkempt appearance “ Jean was no better in any case “ Storm followed the other women out of the kitchen at a run, searching for the cause of distress.
Once in the hallway, all four pulled up short, Jean throwing a hand out to toss their nemesis right back out of the open door. Magneto, dressed in what looked to be an expensive suit and magenta tie, held up a hand, his Fedora and wet coat on his free arm.
“I have a message for my old friend. It would be rather rude of you, Doctor Grey, to throw out a guest in his own home.”
Storm gripped Jean’s hand tightly, glaring at the aging mutant. She desperately wanted to strike at him with a lightning bolt that would shatter windows, but she moved toward the frightened children instead, herding them into the recreation room as quickly as she could. Whispering instructions to them, she placed the eldest of the small group, Artie, in charge, ensuring none of the children left the room until a teacher came to fetch them.
“Have you been telling stories about me that give the children nightmares?” Erik Lensherr asked in his velvety tones. Storm could feel his slimy gaze upon her and it turned her stomach.
“Just the truth,” Rogue shot back angrily. “You’ve caused enough trouble for all of us! First the car accident, then the train, Liberty Island, Alkali Lake…what else should we be tellin’ ‘em?”
She continued, though Jean attempted to silence her rampage. Storm kept quiet, knowing the girl had to face her demon, to let him see how he had affected a girl he had not even known.
“It’s not enough that we have tah deal with humans that hate us, but mutants too? We’re just tryin’ tah survive!”
“Rogue, come on sweetie,” Jean tried again, but Rogue wrenched her arm from the red haired telepath and marched right over to Magneto.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident,” she quoted, pride swelling inside of Storm at the words. “That all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
There was a stunned silence that followed Rogue’s shouted recitation. She glared up at Magneto, eyes filled with rage, entire body shaking with the hateful emotion.
“Can yah say that bout yourself? All yah bring is death and destruction to everyone yah touch.”
“Rogue, that’s enough.”
Turning toward the voice of the Professor, Ororo kept her position in front of the recreation room, as though standing guard. Henry appeared from the staircase, gaping in shock at the scene before him.
“Stand down, child,” the Professor ordered the seething girl gently. “Ororo, Scott, you will join Mr Lensherr and I in my office. I believe he has information we need.”
Storm moved forward, watching as Jean took Rogue gently in her arms. The Professor kept his eyes on the young woman, apparently speaking to her telepathically, perhaps explaining why he was speaking with a man she hated more than any other.
“She has spirit, doesn’t she?” Magneto said as Jean steered Rogue toward the kitchen, aided by a frantic Jubliee.
“Do not speak of her,” the Professor said sharply. “Storm?”
Scott entered the room a moment later, taking his place between the Professor and his old friend while Storm trailed after them, her ire rising with every step.
~@~
“The simple truth is, if we do not halt their advance immediately, they will attack every secret lair mutants have, including that of the self-exiled Morlocks,” Magneto said from his high-backed chair across from the Professor’s desk.
Storm looked to Scott, whom shrugged imperceptibly. Mystique was conspicuously absent, which made Ororo more than a little nervous, the two were seldom parted. They stood behind their mentor, eyes never moving from Magneto.
“How can you be sure the Friends of Humanity are plotting something of this scale?” Charles asked in his cultured tones.
Magneto smirked wickedly, looking to Storm. “I believe your elemental X-Woman has seen Mystique rather often as of late. Thrice, to be exact.”
A sick feeling of recognition washed over her. Her hand instantly dropped to the small scar concealed by Logan’s flannel shirt. She responded to Magneto’s deliberately taunting words with a massive clap of thunder that shook the walls of the mansion.
“Storm,” the Professor warned.
“Mystique almost killed her,” Scott spat in her defense.
“Yes,” Magneto agreed. “Of course, she did not realize it would take your precious Wolverine so long to locate her beneath the water. She would have been most aggrieved if Storm had perished so needlessly because of such inadequacy.”
Another clap of thunder sounded from above, this one twice as powerful as before. Ororo feared the glass of the windows would burst if she released a third, but her rage was so close to the surface it was impossible to cage. Anger at Magneto for his plotting, at Logan for leaving, and with herself for allowing her power to get out of control.
“Ororo,” Charles said again.
“Have I touched a nerve? I do apologize, my dear,” Magneto smiled at her. “I always did like you, Storm. But now you are trying my patience.”
“You tried mine when you put me in a metal tube to suit your own needs,” she shot back ominously.
For an instant, there was remorse in the eyes of her enemy. And for that instant, she remembered the man she had met so long ago. Before his friendship with Charles had been ever altered, she had known him to be a kind, gentle person. But bitterness had transformed him into an object of loathing.
“I apologize, my dear,” Magneto said quietly. “In my haste, I forgot you never managed to control your phobia.”
Slowly, Storm reined herself in, quieting the sudden thunder and converting her eyes back to their natural color. The rain continued, but for now, her wrath had been tamed.
“You never could remember the important things, Magneto,” she said acidly. “And for that I pity you.”
Silence fell between them, even as Magneto bore his eyes into hers. He gave her a once over, an eyebrow lifting as he finally noticed she was not in her usual pristine clothing and heeled boots.
“That brings up another question, why did your Brotherhood attack us at Club Goa?” Scott questioned, his jaw twitching.
“They were working on a reconnaissance mission, a few of our more boisterous marks happened to be there. I can only assume Pyro and Mystique believed you were a threat to their mission,” he supplied almost cheerfully.
“Your timing was impeccable, as always,” Storm answered.
“I was listening to the exchange via a communication device Pyro was carrying. When I realized things would escalate, I left my post several blocks over to halt the battle,” he looked to Scott. “I must say, Cyclops, your team was remarkably well trained and worked far better than the Liberty Island incident.”
“We train. Hard,” he replied icily. Storm could almost see his ruby-quartz lenses flare.
“Erik, how long has Mystique been undercover?” the Professor broke in easily.
“Since the monstrosity that was Alkali Lake,” he answered promptly. “I never did ask how you managed to escape Jason Stryker’s illusions unharmed.”
Storm lifted her chin, answering for her mentor. “A trustworthy teleporter and a vicious snowstorm.”
“Clever girl,” he murmured. “Of course, you always do manage to interrupt my work. Have you nothing better to do or is it merely a means to get under my skin?”
Ororo gasped dramatically. “You have uncovered our evil plan, annoy Magneto into surrender.”
“Oops. Foiled again,” Scott quipped, making Ororo bite back a smile.
“Enough,” Charles cut in before turning back to Magneto. “When do the Friends of Humanity plan to execute their first attack?”
“The timeframe has been narrowed down to a few weeks, when I have a specific date, I will relay it to you through Scarlet Witch, I believe your Wolverine is acquainted with her.”
“What is the target?” Storm asked stiffly, not wanting to know how Logan knew her, though she assumed it was during the club battle.
Magneto waved his hand, pulling a map, which was bound by a metallic ring, from his coat across the room. The soft hum of his magnetic fields sent a shiver of remembrance down Ororo’s spine. She curbed it quickly, attempting to control her composure.
“Here is the base where a group of young mutants have set up a relief camp, of a sort. It appears to be a refuge, hidden in the Rocky Mountains several kilometers from Denver, Colorado. How they learned of it, I cannot be sure, but Mystique tells me they intend to level the entire camp.”
Charles unrolled the map carefully, allowing Scott and Ororo to peek over his shoulder. It was a small area, heavily wooded and easily defensible.
“Why do you need us?” Cyclops asked rigidly.
“I don’t,” the mutant said with a smile. “My Brotherhood is quite capable of handling a group of militant Homo Sapiens, no matter how easily you X-Men dispatched them at the club.”
“Then why are you here?” Scott continued. “Why invade our lives this way?”
“I thought you could help with another part of the operation, your humanitarian weaknesses far outstrip my own.”
“Go on,” Charles sat back in his chair, watching his friend carefully.
“Several humans also reside in the camp, as family, lovers, sympathizers. The Friends of Humanity will kill any they come across, branding them traitors to their cause. I have no burning desire to save any of them,” Magneto said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You would let them die? For wanting to help mutants?” Storm furrowed her brow, then shook her head once, remembering whom she was speaking to. “Never mind.”
“Always a clever one, Storm,” Magneto rose, taking his coat and placing his Fedora upon his head as he moved to leave the room.
“I will keep you informed, old friend.”
“See that you do, friend,” Charles retorted with just a hint of malice.
Magneto nodded to Scott and then Storm, exiting the room with the air of a king. Storm turned to Scott, noting the pure hatred on his handsome face. She understood. During their first years, they had seen Magneto numerous times and, on some level, had cared for him very much.
When he vanished, they had all known why, but the Liberty Island fiasco had only confirmed what they had all tried desperately to deny. That Magneto, once friend, had become enemy, made more dangerous by his nearly intimate knowledge of them all.
It was as though they had been betrayed, though Magneto had never been one to conceal his true feelings. There had always been this naïve hope that he would someday realize the error in his thinking and join their fight. Now, with him firmly on the other side of a three-sloped fence, it was difficult to remember the things that could have been. Though he had joined them when his needs required, there was a grim truth they all had to face.
Someday, it would come down to survival. Magneto and his Brotherhood against Xavier and his X-Men. Only time would tell.
“Storm?”
She turned to Charles at the sound of her name, startled from her gloomy musings of the past and future, perhaps the rain really was depressing.
“Yes, Professor?”
His eyes were slightly unfocused, hinting that he was making use of his telepathic powers. She waited a moment as he continued to concentrate.
“I believe you may want to see Erik to his car,” he said at last.
“Why would she do that?” Scott asked, obviously confused.
“Because Logan has returned.”
Chapter Eighteen: Ice by Gaineewop
Chapter Eighteen: Ice
It had not stopped raining.
Logan shot the ominous black clouds a dirty look as he rolled Cyclops’ motorcycle into the entrance of the driveway. He reached over, punching his security code into a panel so the seven-foot wrought iron gates, held together by a large X would open for him.
No lightning, no thunder, just that steady downpour that told him the world was crying for his Ororo. He had no doubt that her eyes were dry, though she had cried twice in his presence. She was stronger than that. She let the skies release the tears she refused to shed. Her outlet for any pain.
He knew he was in for the lecture of all lectures, from at least three different people when he set foot in the house. First Rogue, and he was not looking forward to what she had to say. Then Jean, which would no doubt include all manner of details regarding what had happened when he “ran away”. And the third from either Chuck or Scott. Neither option was favorable.
For some reason, he expected Ororo to just watch it all, not saying a word to him.
Logan shook his head as the gates creaked open, joined by a massive clap of thunder that had his ears ringing. He paused, staring at the house, which was little more than a blur through the rain. Why had he come back?
At first, he had only wanted to get away from Ororo, before the accusations began. He already knew who was at fault and he hated himself with everything in him. Hopping onto One-Eye’s bike and hauling it into the night dressed in nothing but his jeans had probably not been one of his better ideas, but at the time it was the best he could think of. He had hurt her, physically and then emotionally and he knew it.
That look in her eyes when he finally realized what was happening had nearly killed him. All the forgiveness, while his claws were buried into her bed, close enough to make her bleed and all she could do was try to soothe him. He was beginning to have doubts as to her sanity at that point.
Ororo’s voice haunted him, her plea for him to wake. He had not recognized her soft touch at first, nor her beautiful face and snow-white hair. She had been his enemy, keeping him from the light he so desperately wanted to drown in.
The nightmare, unlike so many others, he remembered with sharp clarity. A long dark tunnel, whispering voices filled with malice surrounding him, the fading light that seemed so far from him no matter how hard he ran.
Then a shift and he was running toward Storm, her screams of terror echoing within his mind, her body trapped beneath two tons of stone rubble. He tried to free her from the crashing walls, but every time he could see her, face twisted into a grimace of fear, more dusty stone would fall from the sky, keeping him from rescuing her.
No matter how hard he tried, his dreams continued to keep him from the light, from Ororo. Flashes of memories fueled his enraging dreams. The night he had nearly lost Rogue on Liberty Island coupled with that first meeting, when she shouted a warning to him in that dingy bar in Laughlin City.
Storm in Chuck’s office, giving him that quiet smile and appraising look as they were introduced, her body falling into the dark waters, dying in his arms as he howled with soul-shattering sorrow.
And then Rogue and Ororo stood above him, flanked by Jean and One-Eye and even Hank and Chuck, all telling him how he had failed, how he would never be a part of their family.
That swirled in with images of Magneto harming Storm, her screams, the dying of the light…and he woke swinging. As he had feared for the last two months, he had harmed her because of his lack of control. His Ororo, the woman whose touch seemed to heal wounds he had not known he possessed, lay bleeding at his hands.
He could not shake the image from his mind, not even parked in another secluded location he had discovered months before, letting the rain soak him to the bone. The smell of her fear, the understanding in her eyes, her healing touch…her blood seeping into the soft blue sheets he had lain on nearly every night.
Logan had remained in that same spot for nearly two days, thinking, and at times, drawing his claws to scream into the night, face turned up to the sorrow in her storm as he ruthlessly tore at the nearby trees and rock. She had paid for his bezerker rage. The only woman to freely give him comfort without agenda or demands in return. He had hurt her.
He set the bike in motion as an even louder crack of thunder sounded from above. Hair stood at attention all over his body. One thing he knew as well as his own nose was the weather and the mutant whom controlled it. Something was happening with Ororo. She was pissed off at someone.
Slowing the bike to a nearly silent purr, Logan pulled it into the driveway, noting the storm clouds seemed to be lessening above him, though the rain increased. Something was very wrong here.
A sleek black BMW was parked behind Storm’s white Mini-Coupe. Pulling the bike to a halt, Logan cut the engine and swung from the seat, crouching low to the ground and testing the air.
It was futile. Storm’s rain had masked any lingering scents. He would just have to figure it out once he was inside.
He crept toward the garage door, slipping inside the humid carport and marching toward the door that would lead him into the mansion. He opened it carefully, stepping inside, concentrating on his sense of smell and hearing. Unable to detect anything right away, he entered, bare feet leaving soggy prints all over Chuck’s precious Persian.
A meter or so into the hall, he smelled the scent of fear and almost instantly the whispered voices of children reached his ears from the recreation room. Starting over at a jog, he drew his claws back into his flesh. Not entirely sure what was happening, he pressed his ear to the door.
“Should we go look for someone?”
“No, Miss Munroe told us to stay here until a teacher came.”
“I’m worried, though, Artie. I wish Mr Logan was here.”
“Yeah, remember when the soldiers came? I hate it when he leaves.”
“I know, doesn’t feel safe.”
A whimper.
“I wish Miss Munroe would come back.”
At that, Logan unhinged the latch on the Rec Room door, opening it a little so the kids could see him before pushing it enough to step inside. Half a dozen young mutants looked up from a small circle in the corner of the room, fear on their faces until they realized who had come to them. As one, they stood and bolted toward him.
“Mr Logan!” Artie reached him first, launching himself into Logan’s arms.
He held him close, patting his back roughly as the others gathered as well, coming as close as they dared, as if drawing strength from his mere presence.
…that creature in your arms?
I’ll take my chances with him.
The memory of holding young Artie as he faced Stryker for the final time rushed back to him and a fierce protectiveness washed over him. He turned to the others, putting Artie back on the floor and ruffling a girl named Jasmine’s hair kindly. She smiled warmly.
A loud click echoed within him.
This was where he belonged. Not only as a teacher, as an X-Man, but as the protector of the things he believed in. Right here, under this vaulted ceiling was everything in the world he could remember caring about, believing in. The school, Chuck and his dream, Rogue, Ororo, Jean, the other X-Men….and the kids. A strong paternal instinct he had not known he possessed was fleshed out here, taking the forefront of his mind.
He belonged here. Simple as that. Now he knew exactly what Ororo had been talking about that day in Scott’s class. He’d finally found it.
“Hey, you guys ok?” he asked, looking into each face, which had changed from fear to a sort of hero worship.
They all nodded, then, as one spoke at once. Logan’s heightened hearing buzzed with the sudden rise in noise level. He covered one ear with his hand.
“Ok, hang on, hang on!” he held up his free hand, pointing to Artie. “You’re spokesman, what’s goin’ on?”
Artie inhaled deeply, as though trying to get a hold of himself before speaking.
“We were watching a movie and the door popped open. When we looked up, we saw Magneto!” he said in a rush. “I called for Doctor Grey and then Miss Munroe came in and then Rogue started screaming at Magneto and then Miss Munroe put us in here and then she told us not to come out and then everything got real quiet and we didn’t know what happened and we wanted to go see where everyone was, but Miss Munroe said not to come out unless a teacher said we could.”
“Whoa,” Logan blinked at the steady stream of consciousness that came from the amphibian-tongued boy in a single breath. “Back up. Magneto was here?”
Artie nodded emphatically. “I didn’t hear him leave though. I guess he’s still in the Professor’s office.”
Logan’s hands clenched into fists. Magneto. Here. He turned, as though the man were behind him, holding his claws inside by the fingertips of his control. First things first. Get kids to someone he knew he could trust. Whip up a batch of Magneto-in-a-can next.
He turned to the security panel, startling when Jasmine grabbed at his hand. Logan turned to her, pulling her tiny body into his arms. She was petite for her age, weighing less than thirty pounds. Her mutation was to blame. She could stretch herself almost limitlessly and her metabolism was so fast she had to eat eight times a day just to stay healthy.
Settling the trembling girl on his hip, Logan activated the security panel on the wall, flipping through the various images. Hank was in the lower levels with some of the middle school aged and high school kids. Bobby had the others in the teacher’s hallway upstairs with Peter, and the rest of the little ones were with Jean, Jubilee and Rogue in the kitchen. Logan flipped a button, activating the comm. system that wove through the entire mansion.
“Jean?”
He watched her move up to the panel, staring in surprise at his image. And possibly the fact that he had little Jasmine clinging to him like a life raft.
“I’m bringing the kids Storm put in the Rec Room to the kitchen.”
“Ok,” she nodded. “I didn’t want to risk them seeing Magneto again. He tends to make them nervous.”
“That’s puttin’ it mildly. We’re comin’ now,” he clicked the comm. link off, reaching for Artie’s hand.
“Come on, guys, lets get you out of here.”
He looked over his shoulder to ensure the other four were behind him. They crowded him, looking around nervously. Jimmy seemed to be glowing, an indication that his electrostatic field was up. He was afraid.
“I’m here, Jim,” Logan said roughly, leading them the few meters to the kitchen. “Come on, bud.”
Jean opened the doorway of the kitchen as they appeared, scooping Jimmy into her arms quickly. The little boy clung to his teacher as Jasmine did to Logan. It brought a rage to him, seeing one man invoke such a fear in children who had the rest of the world to worry about as well. That bastard.
“Where’s Magneto?” he demanded, settling the kids at the table.
“In the Professor’s office,” Rogue replied, glaring daggers at him as she took Jasmine. “Jean wanted tah blast him right back out the door, but he said he had a message.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Logan. The Professor is blocking me,” Jean finished, stroking Jimmy’s hair and squeezing Artie’s hand.
“Where’s Cyclops and Storm?”
“With the Professor,” Jubilee supplied taking Oscar into her arms and smiling at the twins across the table from her.
“Will you be ok here with the kids?” he asked, looking around to ensure they were all being comforted as they needed.
“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, Logan,” Jean tried to soothe him.
He glared at her. She stared back.
“Yes, we’ll be fine,” she said at last. “Please don’t break anything.”
“Just Magneto,” Artie said under his breath, making Logan smirk.
“You got it, kid,” Logan turned toward the kitchen door, stomping into the living room, nose alert.
“Come on, bub, lets see what you got,” he growled, sniffing the air for a trace of Magneto’s scent.
As though hearing him, Logan spotted Magneto in the hall, striding for the front door like he had not a care in the world. Snarling as quietly as he could, Logan crept up behind him, ready to pounce the moment he had a clear shot at the bastard’s black heart.
He paused, as though sensing he was being hunted, then shook his head, opening the door and pulling his coat on as he stepped out of the house.
Logan followed, hearing him mutter something under his breath. He concentrated, wanting to hear exactly what the slimy bastard was saying.
“…you’d think that girl had control of her gift…damnable rain…”
Snikt!
Snarling again that Magneto dare mention Storm, Logan launched himself from the crouch at the doorway. The mutant turned, shock apparent on his lined face. Wolverine watched a single hand rise and flipped himself in mid-air, turning to avoid Magneto’s magnetic field.
“Logan!”
Ororo.
He kept his eyes from her, darting past Magneto again, feeling the mental tug that told him Chuck or Jean was trying to get through to him. He shut it all out, concentrating on the hatred he felt for his prey, the pain he had caused to all those he held above the world. Logan did not fight for the world, only those brave enough to extend their hands to him in friendship.
Wolverine continued to dart around Magneto, always a split second away from his metallic prowess. Commotion came from the direction of the mansion doorway and for an instant, he smelled fear superimposed on Magneto’s scent of a struck flint.
A low crackle was all the warning he received.
Blinding electric sparks flew to his eyes, making him howl with fury. He swung, his claws protruding from his hands, but met nothing, save rain-saturated air.
Two agile legs wrapped around his neck before he could regain use of his eyes. Flowers. Rogue. Damn her.
He felt himself yanked forward by his teammate’s bodyweight, flipping over and falling onto his back with a wet splash, mud covering his bare back. When he attempted to jump up, he found both arms grasped by a cold set of hands he knew all too well.
“Calm yourself, Wolverine,” Colossus said in a low tone. “I do not wish to harm you.”
Logan heard a car start behind him, pulling quickly out of the drive. He roared, only to have Colossus release one of his hands. Before Logan could lash out, a steel fist slammed into his face with enough force to knock out a grown man for a week.
Of course, it merely stunned him. By the time he could shake the dizziness, his broken jaw was already stitching itself back together and Colossus was shaking his head sadly at him. One thing he always liked about Colossus was his dedication to those he cared about. He obviously had not enjoyed subduing Wolverine.
“Release him,” Storm’s command brought the rage down, leaving Logan to blink up into the lessening rain.
Rogue, Jubilee, and Colossus all jumped out of his way. Wolverine snapped to his feet, crouching low and glaring hatefully at the assembled X-Men in the lawn. Scott gave him a nod, as though saying he approved, but the Gold Team was poised for action.
“Gonna take me down again?” he growled, willing his claws to remain hidden.
“If we have to, Wolvie,” Jubilee said frankly. “I’d rather not though.”
“Why did you stop me?”
“Because I ordered them to, Wolverine,” Storm replied from her place beside Colossus, her eyes stark white.
“You shoulda let me turn him into shreds!”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we have bigger fish to fry,” she responded, echoing a common phrase of his. “Are you going to behave or shall I pulse a million megawatts of raw electricity into your adamantium skeleton?”
Unable to believe his soft, sweet Ororo had just threatened to electrocute him, he blinked. No, he was wrong. Ororo had not done it, Storm had. She was as defined by her codename a he was. She was the leader of his team and he had willingly submitted to her command before.
That knowledge did not stop him from snarling at her again.
“I don’t behave, Storm. But I’m goin’ inside for a beer,” he marched right past her, giving the entire group a feral glare as he stomped into the mansion.
Mind spinning with thoughts of Magneto, Ororo, and his own baser instincts that drove him to anger every time something did not make sense to him, he barely heard Rogue call his name before he could get very far into the house.
Ignoring the stern look he received from Chuck, whom was waiting in the hall, he whipped around.
“What?”
“If yah think yah escaped hearin’ what Ah have tah say bout your little weekend getaway, yah’ve got another thin’ comin’, Logan. Sit. Down.”
~@~
Two hours later, Rogue was still in his bedroom, raging at him.
Her lovely, youthful face was flushed bright red with anger, her still-rain damp hair sticking up in odd directions. She paced in front of him, never stopping for breath, never repeating herself and swearing in what he thought was three different languages: English, Russian, and German.
How she’d picked up the last two, he was unsure. The only Russian they lived with rarely spoke, and the German was in Germany…and a priest to boot. But on and on she went, giving him several pieces of her mind at the top of her voice.
Logan sat on his bed, still in the same jeans he had donned Friday night as the sun set behind him, casting a rather interesting glow on Rogue’s face as she pointed her finger at him to emphasize her heated words.
She was the only person he had ever met that he would allow to yell at him this way. Anger was not an option when it came to Rogue. He sat, quietly as he could, and just stared in a sort of shocked admiration as she told him exactly what he could do with his “running away from problems” attitude about the world.
And then she started on Ororo.
If he had thought he’d seen wrath during her “You broke a promise” speech, it was nothing compared to her fury when she began the “How could you leave ‘Roro like that” tirade.
Hell, he had to admit he was impressed. When Rogue started screaming, she did it with flair.
A long laundry list of his emotional shortcomings spilled from Rogue’s lips while she ticked them off on her fingers. Bad attitude, overdeveloped sense of guilt, underdeveloped sense of trust, inability believe in himself…the list went on and on.
He had not known Rogue was so close to Storm, but apparently he’d missed the meeting that declared Ororo “Closer than mah own flesh and blood aunt!”.
His young friend recounted the events of the last two days, the steady rain and Ororo’s withdrawal from everyone in the mansion, save her. She had heard about the nightmare and rolled her eyes when he tried to defend himself.
“I could have killed her, Rogue!”
“Yeah, but yah didn’t. That’s the point yah seem tah be missin’ here.”
And on it went.
This wasn’t a lecture. This was a reprimand, plain and simple. He doubted a million lectures from Chuck and Jean could have accomplished what Rogue had done in the space of two hours. Every emotion was a direct result of her words, the flashes of rage in her eyes, and the way she carried herself, as though confident she was right.
He knew it had been a poor judgment call to race off on Scott’s motorcycle, breaking not one but two promises to the woman he’d shared his life with over the last months. At the time, however, he had felt nothing but the horror of harming her in any way, when all he ever wanted to do was protect her.
Bringing that point up had just garnered him another slew of curses in mixed languages.
“All right,” he said standing and holding his hands up. “That’s enough.”
She glared at him, the sound of her teeth grinding was audible.
“No, it’s not. Ah still can’t believe this, Logan. Yah ran out her, on me, on everyone in this school because of a nightmare.”
“Look, I’m sorry about that, but I needed some time alone, damnit!” he shouted back at her.
“Ah don’t care! You’ve been alone too damn long! When people care about yah, yah don’t just run off. Yah talk it out, like everyone else.”
“I sliced her open, Rogue!”
“The goddamn scratches have already healed, moron!”
That did it.
Logan moved faster than she could counter him and flung open the door to the bathroom he shared with Peter. Rogue screeched at him as he tossed her over his shoulder, her fists pounding him in the back as she demanded to be let down.
Reaching into the bathtub, Logan turned the shower on, as cold as he could get it and then unceremoniously dumped Rogue’s fully clothed body under the icy spray.
“LOGAN!”
Her scream of shock made his ears hurt. The door leading into Peter’s room flew open, Bobby rushing in to see what his girl was screaming about, Colossus right on his heels.
Snikt!
“Find somewhere else to be, Ice-Boy.”
Seeing Rogue was not harmed, though she coughed and sputtered in the freezing bathtub, trying to catch her breath, Bobby turned on his heel and left the bathroom, taking a shocked Peter out with him.
Turning back to Rogue, Logan glared at her, retracting his claws with a muffled snikt.
“Done?”
“Ah can’t believe you!” she attempted to scramble out of the tub, only to have Logan hold her down, reaching up to turn the spray of water directly onto her.
“Are you done?” he roared over the sound of her squealing.
“YES!” she finally acquiesced.
Logan turned the nozzle away from her, reaching over to turn the hot water tap gradually, as to not shock her system with the change in temperature.
He sat back against the cupboard under the sink, drawing his knees up and resting his arms across them, dropping his head against the cool wood. Rogue’s shivering slowly subsided, her teeth continuing to chatter in the relative silence.
“Ah’m sorry,” she gasped between her clinking teeth. “Ah don’t know what came over me.”
Logan gave her a small smile. “I do. You care about her, about me, and you wanted me to know how badly I hurt you both.”
Still shivering, she nodded. “Yeah, Ah don’t know why Ah care bout yah sometimes.”
He chuckled. “Neither do I, kid.”
Silence fell between them again. He could feel her eyes on him, as though waiting for some kind of explanation. He raised a brow, only to have her return the familiar gesture. Shaking his head at her, he sighed, scratching his knee absently.
“She was afraid, not that I blame her,” he stared at his hands intently, Rogue’s trembling image blurring as he concentrated. “When I realized what was happenin’, I looked at her, my claws were stuck in her bed, so close I could feel her breathin’…and all I could see in her eyes was this,” he paused, trying to find the right word.
“Forgiveness?” Rogue offered.
“Yeah,” he said softly, still staring at his hands. “She said I almost stabbed her in the heart. How could she forgive that?”
“Yah stabbed me in the chest an’ Ah forgave yah,” his friend reminded him quietly.
“Yeah, but you absorbed my regeneration. That’s always an option between us, but Storm? She’d be dead.”
“True,” Rogue agreed. “But she told me that yah knew her. Yah moved your hand.”
“What if I hadn’t?”
“Logan,” she said kindly. “Yah love her. Ah don’t think yah could actually, really, hurt her like that.”
“I hurt you,” he focused his eyes on her, surprised he did not try to deny the fact that he loved Ororo.
She waved him off. “Come on, Logan. Yah’d just spent fifteen years all alone. Yah had no idea that someone was even in the room.”
He shook his head. “Still…”
“No,” Rogue said sharply. “Yah doin’ it again. Yah can’t open up all of the sudden an’ then close it off again. It’s not right.”
Logan gave her a half-smile. “You’re so smart, you tell me what to do.”
Rogue leaned over the edge of his tub, her shivering finally vanishing as she warmed up from his drastic measures.
“Give her another night alone,” she said seriously. “Talk tah her tomorrow, after school.”
“Think that’s a good idea?”
“Yah. Ah’ll stay with her tonight.”
A small alarm bell went off in Logan’s head and he pulled his head up from the cupboard door. “Why?”
Rogue instantly looked away and he knew she had let something slip that she had not intended.
“Rogue?”
“Ah promised,” she said, attempting to dig herself out of her hole.
“Tell me.”
“She had a nightmare last night. She made me promise not tah tell you,” she admitted finally.
“About what?”
“Ah don’t know, but she woke up askin’ for yah,” she winced, as if knowing that bit of information was going to hurt him.
And it did, like Colossus had punched him in the gut. Ororo’d had a nightmare and she woke, as she always did, reaching for him. But for the first time in two months, he’d not been there to comfort her.
“I am an asshole,” he growled, banging his head against the cupboard.
“Yeah, yah are,” Rogue agreed. “But leave her tah me tonight, all right? I’ll take care of her.”
He looked at her, pain still making it difficult to breathe as he imagined his lover waking alone, her trembling body aching for someone to soothe the hurt and finding only the tender arms of a young woman, not her lover.
“Promise?”
Rogue gave him a familiar half-smirk. “Yeah, Ah promise.”
Chapter Nineteen: Partner by Gaineewop
Chapter Nineteen: Partner
“Jubilee, can you tell me which civilization invented fireworks?” Ororo asked, smiling slightly to her student.
The Asian girl’s face lit up. “China?”
“Correct. The Ancient Chinese are responsible for some of the most advanced technological discoveries in the planet’s history. Open your World History books to page three-hundred and ninety-four and quietly read the chapter “Introduction to Chinese History”,” she replied, stepping around her desk to ensure the students were doing as instructed.
“China’s also responsible for making my shoes,” Warren Worthington whispered, loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Thanks, Jubi.”
Jubliee, never one to back down, threw her pencil at him in retaliation.
“That is enough, children,” Ororo broke in, taking the pencil from Warren’s desk. “One more word out of you and it will mean detention with Professor Xavier.”
“Yes, Miss Munroe,” the two said in a droning unison.
No one enjoyed the Professor’s detention’s, which usually included watching paint dry, literally, and then discussing the affects on their emotions for another hour or so. From a therapeutic standpoint, Ororo could not understand the basis of such an activity, though it decreased the number of problems in classes after Charles had given it to a few students. The threat of watching paint and then talking about it was enough to make most children behave.
The class fell into silence, broken only by an occasional sneeze or rustling as they turned a page. Ororo moved back to her desk, knowing it would take at least thirty minutes for the students to complete their assignment, giving her a small window of time to grade a few essays from her younger students.
“Does anyone mind if I open the windows?” she asked in a low tone so she would not startle them.
Most shook their heads or shrugged, giving her a sort of amused smile. It was common knowledge that Miss Munroe liked her windows open, especially in the early fall or late spring.
She unlatched the windows as quietly as she could, pushing them open to allow the warm breeze inside. Quite a few students sat back with a small sigh as the fresh air rejuvenated them, making their teacher smile into her hand.
It was close to the end of the school day and with the rain finally gone, she had no doubt the pool would be fully occupied for the remainder of daylight. Ororo would have to ensure it was guarded. Perhaps Jean or Henry would take the duty today.
Settling at her desk, Ororo took out her red ballpoint pen and a stack of essays, watching her class carefully as she marked on the various papers. Her mind had the annoying tendency to wander while she did such things and keeping thoughts of Logan from her mind was proving nearly impossible.
Everyone had heard the remarkably long argument between Rogue and Wolverine the previous evening, though he had marched her up to his bedroom to shield most from it. Ororo, while changing her clothing, had heard mentions of his emotional ineptitude and wondered if they would have to take the girl to the infirmary before long.
Bobby had come downstairs at one point, laughing himself into hysterics as he explained to the X-Men that Logan had finally become irritated with Rogue’s ongoing tirade and had tossed her into a cold shower. Ororo found it very hard not to laugh at that statement and the look on Peter’s face, which was just short of utterly scandalized.
She had not been surprised when Logan did not come down to dinner. When Rogue entered her bedroom, her books in hand, Ororo knew Logan was staying away at least one more night. A quick conversation with Rogue revealed that the girl had told him to stay away, that she, more than Ororo, needed him to be alone.
The girl had told her how hurt she’d been, finally admitting to what Ororo had suspected. Agreeing that his exile from them both was punishment enough, they had worked quietly until falling asleep on Ororo’s bed, their books and paperwork tumbling from exhausted hands.
At least there had been no nightmares last night. She did not want to wake her young charge with cries for Logan while he was under the same roof. His bedroom was only a few meters down the hall and she had no doubt he would hear her.
She had not told Rogue that her horrid dream had been of Logan, looming above her, claws extended. That she had dreamt of the adamantium ripping through her body, his anguished scream as he realized what he had done. She could see her body in his arms, sobs of loss echoing from his throat. Even then, with her death on his hands, she had wanted to reach for him, soothe the pain of such a traumatic moment.
Ororo feared she had completely lost her mind.
What kind of person wanted to comfort such tragedy in lieu of being comforted? Was this a normal behavior when you came to realize that someone else’s pain meant more than your own? Was this, truly, how it felt to love someone unconditionally?
“Miss Munroe?”
Ororo’s head came up, blinking a little at the intrusion. “Yes?”
Jubilee pointed to the windows, where ominous black clouds had begun to form. Horrified at the unexpected loss of control, Ororo inhaled deeply, shooing the dark clouds away to smile at her students.
“And that is my reaction when I read student essays,” she quipped, silently assuring the students that she would not ruin their perfect weather.
Soft chuckles sounded around her, broken by the sound of the school bell.
None of her students moved. She had taught them well that she dismissed the class and not the bell.
“Please answer all of the questions on page four-hundred and one with at least fifty words. Each,” she instructed, gathering her things. “And have a lovely afternoon.”
“Thanks, Miss Munroe!” several of them called out as the snatched up their things and bolted from her room.
Jubilee paused at the doorway, giving her a small smile. “Training in ten?”
“Oh, yes, dear. Would you remind the rest of the Gold Team?”
“Sure, Storm,” the girl replied, waving a little. “See you in the Danger Room.”
Ororo nodded, slipping her unfinished essays into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She had seven minutes to get to the Danger Room. Mentally going over her calculations, she nodded to herself. She had time to get everything she needed done by then.
Two minutes to grab a banana from the kitchen, three to drop her books and change in her bedroom, and two to get to the Danger Room. Her team would arrive one minute after that and two minutes later the training session would begin.
Ororo liked schedules, they kept her regimented and in control. Swallowing over the lump in her throat, she left the classroom to get on with her day, trying to not think about how wonderful losing control felt with Logan.
~@~
Unfortunately, the Danger Room had been taken offline by Henry and Scott, who were repairing what they called a “fused coil”. Having absolutely no idea they were talking about, Ororo contacted the Gold Team and gave them the good news that they had the evening off.
Of course, that meant Ororo wound up with pool duty as a dozen students had already set up camp there for the evening. Deciding it would be nice to go outdoors, Ororo changed into her white bikini, grabbed her towel and sunglasses, determined to have a lovely afternoon out of doors.
She had not seen Logan, save for a brief glimpse as he led his youngest students outside for their dodgeball game. He had not seen her, but her heart ached at the shadows under his eyes, hinting that he was no better off than she.
Clenching her jaw to bat away the images of Logan’s brief attack on Magneto, she walked to the pool area and searched for Jean.
The much paler woman was propped on her favorite lawn chair, chiding Bobby for splashing her. Rogue was nearby, giggling hysterically as she tiptoed into the water. Henry had designed a comfortable body stocking for her, which fit like a second skin and was nearly invisible. Tinted just a bit darker than her natural skin tone, it allowed her to wear a bathing suit without looking slightly odd.
Not that slightly odd was a problem at a school filled with mutants.
“Hey,” Jean greeted as Ororo laid her beach towel into the chair beside hers. “Long day?”
Ororo slid her glasses over her eyes as she sat, shrugging just enough for Jean to notice.
“I do believe I had better luck as a single woman,” she admitted, her tone geared for Jean’s ears alone.
Her friend pouted. “He’s back, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Changing topic,” Jean grinned, looking over her sunglasses. “Thank you for the sunshine.”
“You are welcome, dear one,” Ororo smiled faintly, sitting back in her chair to stretch her legs out. “Did I go overboard this weekend?”
“A little,” Jean nodded. “But no flooding, so that’s a plus.”
“And you, my sister? Have there been any more trips to memory lane?”
She shook her red head, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen from the small table between them. “No, thank goodness. The Professor thinks it’s lingering damage from Alkali Lake and he’s confident it will pass.”
Trying to not sound as worried as she really was, Ororo turned her head to look at her.
“I am sorry, Jean, I wish I could help.”
“You are, sweetie. Trust me.”
They sat for a few minutes in companionable silence, watching the children swim, sunbathe or splash one another in the warm sunlight. For a moment, Ororo could pull herself away from the horrors that faced these youths. Here, they could be just like everyone else, no matter their genes.
Returning to the mansion after Stryker’s attack had been shocking to her. Not a part of the defense of their home, the destruction brought her to tears. The loss of Jean had still been close to the surface, and the bullet holes, broken glass and scattered belongings had been nearly too much to bear.
Logan’s claws had destroyed the refrigerator. She had placed three fingers from each hand into them as a choked up Bobby explained how they had come to be there. Logan had done it to protect his charge.
No one knew what had been going on in Logan’s mind that night. Bobby had told her he had growled something along the lines of “Picked the wrong house, bub” to the man he had killed in the kitchen.
Did he mean because it was a school? A school for mutants, perhaps? Or simply because they had attacked what was quickly becoming his own home?
She would never be sure, but as she walked the halls, noting the damage and the slices of wall taken out by Wolverine’s claws, she had fervently wished she had been there. It was her home as well, the only true home she had ever had.
The children had taken refuge in the woods, under the careful guidance of Peter. Some had used other tunnels and were found a few days later in homes nearby or in the care of suspicious police officers. All had been recovered, much to everyone’s relief.
What would have happened had Logan not come back that evening? How many of their precious students would have been taken by Stryker? She did not want to think about that. To her, Logan’s timely arrival was a gift, something Fate had dictated in defense of the little ones.
She also suspected that it was one of the reasons Logan had come to care for the school so deeply. He had to defend it and when one defends something, there is an immediate connection to it.
Ororo had seen how the children drifted to him now, no matter his burly behavior. Many had seen him in action or at least heard the tale from those who had. He was now their hero, the X-Man who had fought for them. One against many without any hesitation. Even if he had not decided to remain among them, to fight with them, there would always be a place in their hearts for the lone wolf who had tried so desperately to save them all.
“’Ro?”
Startling from her musings, Ororo noted there was a long shadow over her. Looking up at the familiar voice, she had to clamp her teeth together to keep her jaw from falling open.
Logan stood beside her chair, in naught but a pair of long swim trunks. Happy dark glasses concealed her eyes, she felt them widen, her heart jumping from a calm thrum to pounding against her breast in the span of a millisecond.
“Hello,” she greeted when she found her voice.
Soft sighs echoed around them, making Ororo look over to the pool. Nearly every female eye was on Logan, much to the chagrin of the boys vying for their attention. Not that she could blame them. She had never seen a male that so plainly screamed “man” as Logan did. He practically oozed testosterone.
Darting her eyes toward Jean, she was not surprised to find the mouth’s mouth was slightly open, staring at the large, muscled man beside Storm over the rim of her sunglasses.
“Hey, Jean,” he acknowledged with what sounded like humor.
For some reason, that slightly triumphant look on his face made her want to stab him with his own claws. Repeatedly.
Shoving the violent thought away and chastising herself for such jealousy, she looked straight ahead of her.
“Jimmy! Come to the shallow end, please,” she called out to the boy as he attempted to sneak by her into the eight-foot depth.
“Yes, Miss Munroe,” he replied, his shoulders slumping.
She had to wrap her hands around the arm of her chair when she noted Logan and Jean were talking over her. She wanted to scream that she was the one he had nearly stabbed and broken promises to. It was all tamped carefully down so that no change in the weather betrayed her true emotions.
A trip to the training room would be a good thing.
Storm?
Please leave my head, Jean.
Are you all right?
I will not ask again.
Silence.
Both aloud and mentally, Jean fell silent. Logan looked from one to the other.
“’Ro?”
She did not respond, aware that two sets of eyes were watching her intently.
“Ororo.”
Tilting her chin upward, Ororo drew that icy calm over herself, fully aware that she was behaving like a child. The others behaved in such ways constantly, surely she was allowed to once in her many years at the school.
“Storm,” Logan’s voice was a low growl by now.
Gracefully, she slid from her chair, pulling her towel around her so that the movement did not seem enticing in any way. She did not look at either of them, keeping her haughty composure as she spoke.
“I have essays to finish grading. I am sure you will not mind helping Jean watch over the children, Logan. I will see you both at dinner.”
And with that, she slid on her flip-flop sandals and eased back into the house, not once looking back.
~@~
The sounds of her fists meeting the enormous punching bag echoed in the otherwise empty training room shortly after her display of completely adolescent behavior beside the pool.
Ororo was covered in sweat, the top of her bikini matted to her breasts as she took out her aggression without the slightest change of expression on her face. She had taken a pair of Jean’s shorts from the laundry room on her way inside, snidely thinking she would not miss them.
Fingerless gloved hands connected again and again to the sand-filled bag. The weather was still sunny outside, though her eyes stung relentlessly, the heavens waiting to open up and spill her emotional turmoil over the land below.
Of course, that would have been undignified. She wanted Logan to sit outside with Jean and think everything was just fine. He always took her moods based on the weather patterns so it was quite easy to fool him.
Jean nudged at her mentally for the eighth time in the twenty minutes she had been ensconced in the training room. Every time, Ororo blocked her, taunting her to try and break her shields. She knew Jean would never do so. It was considered a gross invasion of privacy.
“Jean this…Jean that…Please hold my manhood in your hand and drag me around like a puppy, Jean,” she thought venomously, her next punch so hard the bag swung ominously on its chain.
She loved her sister. There was no one else in the world she trusted with her most guarded secrets. Ororo would challenge the gods themselves to a duel if it meant keeping her from harm.
But that did not mean she always liked her.
Jean Grey was a classic beauty. She radiated femininity on a scale that Ororo would never be able to match. She cried out for big, strong men to protect her, drawing on the chivalry that plagued men like Scott and even Logan, to a certain extent. Not to mention, she was a natural flirt.
She was kind, gentle, and compassionate where Ororo was aloof, considered icy and unreachable because she found a confidence within herself that she refused to hide. The two women had been the sole female presence in the mansion for years before the school became less selective. In that time they had competed constantly, though Ororo had not even known for years.
Coming from a village in Kenya where she had been hailed as a goddess, Ororo had found the mansion sorely lacking at first. Jean, forever the mother, had reached to her before any of the boys. It was through her kind nature that Ororo was finally able to embrace her mutation as a mere mortal with no more divine aspirations.
And yet, when it came to things like men, they had always differed. Jean preferred the steady, dependable men that had dreams of children and homes with picket fences while Ororo’s tastes had always run a little more wildly.
When Ororo was in the torn Levi’s and tattoos phase, Jean had been planning her wedding. During Storm’s musician period, Jean learned to crochet. It was a fundamental basis in their relationship.
That is, until Ororo stopped looking for a mate entirely. The whole dating game had played havoc on the control of her powers, making it virtually impossible for her to remain in a relationship without serious risk to her position as an X-Man. Deciding that she should simply go without companionship and focus on her work, she had cut herself off completely, turning to support her more maternal friend’s relationship with Scott.
Jean had rubbed off on her over time and Ororo constantly found herself mothering everyone in the mansion. Even the Professor.
Apparently, as Ororo settled down, Jean’s rebellious years were beginning.
She did not doubt that Logan believed, perhaps even rightly, that Jean was out of his system. That did not mean that he was out of Jean’s. Whispered conversations during his month away had revealed a bit of attraction to their new friend, making Storm wish he would never return.
Now, she was in love with him and Jean still had not come to terms with her lingering draw to Logan. Ororo trusted them both, but the very idea of any woman with her eye on Logan, after she had gone through so much to find him, made her want to turn feral as well.
“I bet I know whose face is on that bag, darlin’.”
Without acknowledging him, Ororo spun, kicking the bag so hard it nearly hit her back. She turned to him calmly, hands clenched into fists.
“I am busy, Logan. Perhaps you can train another time.”
His eyebrow shot up, though he leaned carelessly against the doorway, still wearing only his blue swim trunks. She could tell he already knew something was wrong with her. In fact, there was a good deal wrong with their relationship at the moment.
“I wanted to talk to you, about Friday night,” he said more carefully.
Ororo turned to the punching bag, wiping her sweat-soaked hair from her face as she took up a ready stance.
“There is nothing to say. You needed to be alone. I forgave you the moment it happened,” she replied, hitting the bag with a series of right jabs.
“That’s not the point, ‘Ro,” Logan said with just the hint of a growl in his voice. “I did break a promise.”
“Two, if you are intent on keeping count,” she corrected.
“Fine. Two promises.”
“And then, of course, there is your complete inability to trust yourself.”
“Should I be writing this down?”
“We may as well include my inability to control myself.”
“So we’re countin’ your faults too?”
She switched positions; this time slamming a dozen left jabs into the bag, her muscles stinging with over-stimulation.
“Why should we not? This seems an excellent time to air the dirty laundry.”
“It’s your call, darlin’,” she could hear the dangerous lilt to his voice, but paid it no mind at all.
“Well, shall I go on?” Ororo grunted with the force she was using against the bag.
“Go ahead, I can’t stop ya.”
“Let me think here,” she paused, hugging the bag, keeping her emotions in check. “Ah, yes. Complete disregard for my faith in you.”
“’Ro…”
She swung at the bag. “Utter lack of trust in my ability “handle” your violent tendencies.”
“Ororo.”
“Ah, and as for me…”she kicked the bag so hard the chain snapped, sending the eighty pound piece of vinyl to the floor with a crash. She whirled on Logan.
“Inability to watch Jean drool over you not five damn feet from where I am sitting. Have you any idea how that wounds me? I do not care if nothing comes of it, it still bothers me.”
Logan’s mouth had fallen open a little. Watching him coldly, she could not understand what she had said to provoke such a reaction.
“You said “damn”,” he spoke with a sort of awe.
Completely mortified that she had cursed, she sniffed, tilting her chin up in defiance.
“Did you not say you would teach me to swear, smoke, and drink?”
“That was a joke,” he said, straightening in the doorway, finally. “The sentence ya should be rememberin’ is “Don’t you dare change”.”
Ororo tore the Velcro of her gloves, ripping them from her hands and marching to the bench where she had placed a pilfered tank top and her towel. She wiped herself down as quickly as she could, shimmying into the tank top with her back to Logan. She did not want him to think her scantily clad appearance was an invitation.
“You do real well, passin’ off as the ice queen,” he spoke coldly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there wasn’t anythin’ inside you, from watchin’ ya pull all that armor up around yourself like that.”
She grabbed at a bottle of water from the stand and twisted the top off, taking a drink quickly.
“Its one big, fat lie, isn’t it?” his voice was closer now. “You’re a hypocrite. You run away just as well as I do, you just do it inside.”
“Go away, Logan.”
“Hell, no. Not until we’ve got one thing straight here,” she heard his voice from directly behind her and moved to dart out of his reach.
Too late. As she turned, he grasped her arm and whirled her around to face him.
“There’s one thing I want an’ that’s you,” he said, dark eyes holding her gaze. “You wanna know why I reached for Jean in the first fuckin’ place?”
“No,” she answered honestly, not bothering to attempt escape. He was not hurting her and she doubted she could move fast enough anyway.
“Cause she is the first person who ever touched me with anythin’ other than pain. But I found somethin’ even better with you. I found someone that brings me peace. A touch that can reach me all the way into my black heart. That’s somethin’ Jean can’t even try to do,” he replied anyway.
“Logan…”
“I’m not done,” he fairly snarled at her.
She closed her mouth immediately.
“All I wanted was a little contact. Call me human, but I didn’t know how much I needed that until her. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth,” he continued. “There’s somethin’ different about you. I can’t breathe without it, insane as that sounds. And when I thought I coulda killed you, it almost destroyed whatever it is you woke up inside me. And that scared me more than anythin’.”
Processing such brutally honest and heartfelt words from Logan’s lips was more difficult than she could imagine. There was a long silence, his eyes on hers; filled with every emotion he hadn’t spoken of. It made her knees weak. Swallowing hard, she found some hidden strength, wanting him to understand before she lost the willpower entirely and submitted.
“May I speak now?”
He grunted with a nod.
“I do not want a protector, Logan,” she began, just as angrily as he had spoken. “I want a partner. I need to know that you trust me, not only with your heart and life but also with my own. We are teammates as well as lovers. I know you have trusted me in the past, with Rogue and with your life. This is different, my love. I want someone to stand beside me, not out in front, claws drawn and a sneer upon his lips.”
“I trust ya,” he said simply.
“Then why did you run away from me?”
He was silent for a moment, gently releasing her arms as though sure she would not walk away from him.
“I don’t ever want anyone, even me, hurtin’ you.”
“That is not going to work, Logan.”
“’Ro…”
“How can we function on a mission if you are too consumed with my welfare?”
“I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his hair.
She reached for him, taking his face in her hands and drawing it up so she could look upon him.
“Trust me,” she whispered. “Trust me to be strong enough to be your equal. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Ororo kissed his forehead gently, and then his lips, pulling away completely a moment later.
“I am going to shower before dinner. Will you be joining us this evening?”
He nodded, watching her with a strange expression on his face. “Yeah.”
“I will see you then, Logan.”
As she had before, she gathered her things and left the room, not looking back.
Chapter Twenty: Protector by Gaineewop
Chapter Twenty: Protector
He smelled her presence before she knocked. Changing into clean jeans after an acrobatic session with Hank in the training room, following the clean up of Ororo’s mess, he had more clarity than his conversation with the woman he felt slipping away could have.
Some of the things she’d said made sense. How could they be on the same team if they couldn’t work right together? Then again, he argued with himself that the day in the clearing, he had given her free rein, trusting her abilities. He had worried, of course, but that was the extent.
And she was jealous of Jean. Maybe jealous wasn’t the right word. Ororo simply did not enjoy the game he had been playing with Jean for so long. She was right on that one. Games with Jean had to end as long as he was with Ororo. And from the way he felt as though something was missing without her, he figured that would be a long time.
Why had he felt proud to have Jean staring at him? Why had the subtle scent of arousal from her puffed up his ego? Why in the hell did he not realize Ororo would notice?
“Logan?”
“Yeah.”
The bedroom door opened, the scent of peppermint flowing through his room before she entered. Of all the people he wanted to talk to, Jean was not on the list right now. He turned, buttoning his jeans, trying to not think how that looked to her.
“I was just wondering how your talk with Storm went?” she asked quietly, not coming fully into the room.
“Depends,” he grunted, reaching for his boots and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“On what?”
“Your outlook, I guess,” he tugged a sock on, pausing. Socks reminded him of her.
Everything reminded him of her at this point.
“I didn’t notice any thunderclaps and you don’t look electrocuted. So, would “fine” describe it?” Jean teased, moving a little further into the room.
“Not really,” Logan admitted, wanting to scream that there were other ways to tell Ororo’s mood.
Like the shift in her back muscles, the way her entire body went ice-cold when she was upset. The slight dimple that appeared at the corner of her mouth when she was amused or the wrinkle to her brow that betrayed worry. Did no one else notice this?
“She busted the punchin’ bag.”
Jean gasped. “What?”
Logan nodded. “Yep. Snapped the chain right in half and didn’t look even a little upset about it.”
“I’ve been trying to talk to her for a while now, but she’s ignoring me.”
“Probably because you’re a part of the problem,” he told her, wincing slightly. He was willing to bet his healing factor that Ororo hadn’t wanted her friend to know that.
Jean was quiet for a moment as Logan pulled his boots on over his socks, tying them up while trying to not smell the change in Jean’s scent. It wasn’t arousal, much to his relief, but it was definitely fear.
“Why am I the problem? You almost stabbed her,” Jean retaliated lamely.
Logan looked up, quirking a brow at her. She blushed nearly the color of her hair.
“I’m sorry, that…knee jerk reaction.”
“Right.”
He stood up from the bed, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on.
“She thinks I flirt with you,” the woman admitted softly.
Logan didn’t respond right away, concentrating on zipping his coat up.
“Don’t you?”
“Logan!”
“Look, Jean,” he moved to his desk, taking out the cigar Ororo had given him weeks ago and the small piece of leather he had cut from her uniform that day in Chicago, stuffing the items into his pocket. “What do you want from me?”
She was staring at him in surprise. Her mouth opened and closed more than once until her eyes got that faraway look to them, hinting she was trying to use her telepathy.
“Stay out!” he barked more harshly than he’d intended.
Jean startled, taking a step back.
It was then that Logan understood another bit of what Ororo was trying to tell him. Storm never, ever would have shown her fear that way. Hell, he had three adamantium claws shoved into her bed and she had barely registered it that night. Jean was the polar opposite of Ororo.
Jean was the type that needed a protector. Ororo needed a companion.
A mate.
“Jean, I know that I chased you. I flirted, I kissed you, I thought of horrible ways for One-Eye to bite the big one so I could swoop in…but that was then,” he said quickly, remembering to grab the address he’d written on a scrap of newspaper and holding it tightly.
“What’s changed?”
He looked up, meeting the green eyes he’d thought about so often, finding a hint of confusion, fear, and desire in them. It almost disgusted him.
“The way I figure it, you’re just not the one for me,” he replied, checking his pockets for his wallet.
“Is Storm?” Jean’s question was whisper-soft, even for his sensitive ears.
Pausing, Logan nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think she is.”
“I’m sorry, Jean. I’ve got something to take care of. I’ll be back before dinner.”
“Where are you going?”
“Logan? We’re gonna be late!” Scott called from the stairs.
“I’m comin’!” Logan replied, moving past Jean.
“You’re going somewhere with Scott?” she sounded beyond flabbergasted as she followed him.
“Logan!”
“Shut the f--,” Logan paused, mindful of the children who could hear him shouting. “Hang on!”
Logan turned to Jean. “There are three people in this house whose business it is where I go and why. You’re not on that list, Jean.”
She gaped at him as though he’d just grown another head. Sighing, Logan turned away from her, trotting down the stairs. He and One-Eye only had a small window of opportunity here and every second spent trying to get Jean out of his hair was a wasted one.
“Is everything all right?”
Ororo ran into them halfway down the staircase. Not bothering to look guilty, as he hadn’t done anything wrong; he leaned in and kissed her cheek quickly. Jean had halted right behind him and from the dimple on Ororo’s chin she was more than a little amused.
“Logan!” Scott yelled again.
He ignored the call, watching as Ororo stepped up to Jean and enveloped her in a warm hug. Just before they parted Logan heard a distinct whisper from his lover’s lips.
“I love you, dear.”
Logan almost laughed at the shocked expression on Jean’s face as she stuttered a reply. He knew that Storm was taking the first step, trying to put jealousy and whatever else it was between her and Jean aside.
“You are being bellowed for, Logan,” Ororo said to him. “Where are you going?”
“Can I choose to not answer that and not get struck by lightning?” he gave her a half-smirk.
She narrowed her eyes at him, though the gesture looked slightly playful. She wasn’t putting on a show for Jean. She was above that. It seemed more that she wanted to move on, though he owed her an answer.
“LOGAN!”
“Summers, if you don’t give me five frickin’ seconds, I will slice those red eyeballs right out of your head!”
A pause. Ororo snickered. Jean chuckled.
“I’ll be in the car!”
“Go on,” Ororo told him. “And keep your secrets if you must.”
“I’ll be back for dinner,” Logan bolted. He did not want to be around those two women, in the same room, until they worked out their issues.
He hoped that was before he came back from his field trip with Cyclops.
~@~
“You’re just in time, I was getting ready to head on home. Come on in, gate’s open,” the polite, balding man waved to Logan and Scott as they hopped out of the Mazda.
The junkyard was filled with things Logan wanted to take home, rip apart and rebuild. He didn’t know where the odd compulsion came from, but he was used to these kinds of things by now.
Scott came up beside Logan as they moved through the wire-fence gate, looking around through those red lenses as though he’d never seen a car graveyard before. They stepped over an old-looking Mastiff, whom barely lifted his head from the license plate it was gnawing on as Logan absently petted him.
“So, remind me why we’re doing this again? You know she hates them, right?” Scott asked as they rounded a pile of bumpers.
“Just trust me on this one, Slim.”
“You’re a weird guy, Wolverine,” he chuckled, pulling his coat more tightly around his shoulders. “Ah, well, your funeral.”
Kicking up dust with their boots, they finally reached the office, shaking hands with the owner, whom grinned at Scott.
“Nice shades,” he commented. “Mutant?”
Instantly on guard, Logan looked to Scott, whom simply nodded. “Yeah.”
“Interesting. What’s your gift? Is that what you call it?”
“Um, yeah, I’d show you but it’s a little destructive,” Scott smiled, giving Logan a small hand signal that meant everything was all right.
Logan couldn’t smell anything but the man’s horrible aftershave and no hint of deceit or fear so he shrugged off his paranoia quickly, reminding himself that this was for Ororo.
“Come on back here, then, I’ve only got one left and I’ve had four people call about him today,” the man shuffled into the office, holding the door open for Logan and Scott.
He pointed to a large box in the back of his office. “Right there, go on and say hi. Sometimes a dog and their owner just doesn’t get along, so it’s best to try it out first.”
Logan took a few steps across the room, smiling down at the exhausted looking Mastiff lying beside the box.
“Hey, girl. How you doin’?” he scratched behind her ears, making the dog whine for more. “That’s the spot, huh? There’s a good girl.”
“Look at that, he’s being nice to something furry,” Scott cracked. “Hey, if we scratch you behind the ears, will you roll over and kick your leg?”
The old man laughed uproariously at this, clapping Scott soundly on the back. Logan almost shot back a retort…until he realized that one of his hot spots Ororo had detected and used to her advantage actually was behind his ear.
“Shut up, One-Eye,” he snarled, turning back to the bitch.
“Her name’s May, and this was her second litter. The pup in there is the runt and he’s sweet as can be, been weaned almost a week now,” the dog’s owner said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
Peeking into the box, Logan continued to scratch May’s ears. The puppy was wide awake, his long pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he leaped up onto the side of the box, studying Logan intently.
Looking right back into the puppy’s dark eyes, Logan could almost feel this canine reaching inside him, locating his own animal within and calling to it. The puppy seemed to smirk and then attempted to leap out of the box and into Logan’s arms.
His fur was only a shade or two lighter than Ororo’s skin and while small, Logan could sense an intelligence and honor in the creature wrapped in a kind of chaotic peace he understood very well. He knew, without a doubt, that this was the dog for Storm.
“Yeah,” he murmured, reaching in to pet the puppy hardily. “You’re just right, aren’t ya? If I bring you home, will you look out for my girl?”
The puppy’s exuberance calmed until he was looking directly into Logan’s eyes. A low snarl came from the puppy and Logan rose up on his haunches just a little, boring his eyes into the dog’s.
“That’s right, bub, I’m the boss. She’s my girl. Gonna take care of her?” he growled quietly.
As if understanding, the puppy averted his eyes and sat back on his haunches.
Logan reached back into the box and lifted him, rewarded by the dog’s tongue lapping at his chin eagerly. Smiling, Logan stood and nodded.
“Ok, Cykie, pay the man.”
The look on One-Eye’s face was priceless.
~@~
“You realize, she is going to kill you and if she doesn’t Jean will,” Scott said as they drove home from the pet supply store two hours later.
Ororo’s new puppy was on Logan’s lap and three hundred dollars worth of food, toys, a dog bed and other shit he hadn’t known existed crammed into the backseat.
“Why Jean?” Logan asked, scratching the puppy’s belly.
“She’s allergic to dog hair,” he said, navigating them through Westchester.
Logan laughed. “Well, she’ll live. I’m sure Hank’s got medication for that kind of thing,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the cigar and leather he had taken from his bedroom.
Letting the puppy sniff both got him acquainted with Ororo’s smell. Logan hoped to make the dog understand that his owner was Ororo, his mother, the Alpha female. He would recognize Logan’s scent on her and in that way would see him as the male.
“It’s for real, isn’t it?” Scott said suddenly.
“What is?” Logan asked, watching the puppy sniff happily at the leather.
“The end of your…thing with Jean.”
Surprised by this sudden turn of conversation, Logan looked out of the windshield as dusk sank in around them. Yes, it was true. He did not even want to tease Jean to get under One-Eye’s skin. It would hurt Ororo too much.
“Yeah. It’s done.”
“Good.”
Logan grunted.
“This really, really hurts to say, Logan, just so you know that,” Scott said, shifting his hands on the steering wheel as they turned down the street to the mansion. “But I’m glad you’ve got Storm.”
If he thought nothing else could shock him, he was wrong. Not turning to look at him, Logan remained silent, waiting for the warning that would come from the other man about dating someone as close to him as a sister.
“She’s my sister in every way that counts, and if she chooses you, then I’m happy.”
“Because it means I’m staying away from your girl?” he quipped as Scott pulled up to the security gate.
“Well there is that,” he said, punching his code into the panel. “I’ve just never seen her so tied to someone before. I know Ororo, she needs that.”
“I’m startin’ to think we all do, Slim,” Logan admitted.
“This conversation never happened.”
“Got that fuckin’ right.”
They left all of the dog’s things in the car, proceeding to the side door of the garage the second Scott cut the engine. Logan carried the puppy to the door, opening it just wide enough to hear what was happening.
“Everyone seems to be in the Rec Room or upstairs,” he reported to Scott. “Wait. The Professor is in the kitchen with Jean and Rogue…Hank too. Where’s ‘Ro, damnit?”
“I hope they saved some dinner,” Scott said quietly from behind him.
“Bud, you’ll be on the couch and I’ll be in my own room.”
“I never should have let you talk me into this…”
“Nope, sure shouldn’t have.”
Pushing the door open just a bit more, Logan whispered to the puppy. “Go find my girl. Go get her. Get her!”
The puppy growled in response, ready for action.
He held the bit of leather up to his nose, allowing him to take the scent before Logan placed him inside the mansion and released him.
The pup sniffed loudly for a moment, running off in all different directions. At first, Logan thought the dog would head right back to him, but he stopped suddenly and took off toward the stairs at a dead run, toenails clinking and sliding on the hard wood floor.
“You’re on your own, Old Man,” Scott said as he entered the house, seeming to laugh at him.
“Yeah, keep laughing until Jean’s got you in the hall with a pillow…damn!”
Leaving Scott, Logan followed the scent of the suddenly vanished canine up the stairs. He could hear several curious children gathering behind him, but he shooed them away with a single look. They scampered off, but he was sure they’d be back later, poking their little faces into things they shouldn’t.
The sound of the Mastiff puppy’s frustrated snarl reached him from the teacher’s hall just as he hit the top of the stairs. Noises that sounded like claws scraping wood and the puppy’s howl were followed by rapid footsteps and a whiff of fresh rainfall.
Peeking around the corner, Logan smiled as Ororo’s bedroom door opened.
“What on earth? How did you get here, precious?” her voice had dropped to a soothing coo and he watched her lift the large puppy into her arms, checking his neck for a collar.
A collar? He shook his head. She had moments where she was absolutely brilliant and in others she reminded him of a naïve girl from a tiny village in Kenya. He supposed she was actually a mixture of both.
“Oh, dear, you are quite friendly, are you not?” Ororo laughed as the puppy licked her face, yelping in triumph.
He had to admit to himself that he was impressed. The Mastiff had been dropped into an alien environment and given an order to locate a single scent within thousands of new smells he most likely wanted to inspect closely and yet he had still found what he was looking for. Logan’s fear that the blood staining the leather would confuse him had obviously been for nothing.
“Shall we locate your owner? The students are not allowed to bring pets to the school,” she was saying, coming out of her bedroom. The puppy whined pitifully. “I know, but it is for the best. We do not have the proper facilities to handle one hundred dogs or cats.”
Deciding it was time to show himself, Logan smiled the smile only ‘Ro ever got to see, coming around the corner as if he’d not been watching all along.
“Hey,” he greeted calmly. “Whatcha got there?”
She looked up and smiled, rubbing behind the puppy’s ear. He almost smirked at that. Apparently, Ororo just knew the secret about ears.
“Hello,” she replied, already suspicious. “Would you know anything about this?”
Logan pointed to the puppy and shrugged putting an exaggerated expression of innocence on his face, taking the few meters to her slowly.
“Now, why would you think that, darlin’?”
Ororo raised a white brow, turning the puppy until he faced her.
“We know all about the Wolverine’s games, do we not? Yes. We know he is up to something,” she said as though the puppy could reply.
As if on cue, the dog turned to Logan and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, as though he were laughing.
“Maybe I know somethin’,” Logan finally admitted when he was standing directly in front of her.
“Logan,” she said seriously. “What is this dog doing here?”
“Happy birthday,” he replied, kissing her forehead.
The look of surprise and then overwhelming tenderness that crossed Ororo’s face was worth every single bitching comment Scott had made through the entire process. He kissed her cheek, chuckling when the puppy licked him and then started on her all over again.
“How did you know my birthday is tomorrow?” she asked, clamping a hand around the dog’s muzzle.
The puppy whined pitifully.
“’Ro, he can’t breathe like that,” Logan cautioned, ignoring her question.
“Yes, I know,” she released the puppy and rapped him sharply on the snout. “Behave yourself.”
Puppy settled easily into her arms, looking to Logan as though he wanted to bite something.
“Hey, no bitin’ her. Bite her and I’ll turn ya into Mastiff Steak.”
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
She gave him a long suffering sigh and a look that clearly stated if he did not start explaining things, he would end up finding out exactly how well he conducted electricity.
“Cyclops told me,” he replied quickly. “I mentioned wanting to get you a dog, and he…”
He shut his mouth.
Ororo smirked.
“You were lucky, is that it?” she chuckled, heading into her bedroom.
He followed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. She seemed to be taking all of this very well, considering Scott was adamant that she hated any kind of furry creatures.
When Logan mentioned this, Ororo shook her head, laughing.
“That is because he had a horrid little terrier when we were teenagers that never quite learned how to relieve himself outside. I detested that animal,” she explained, walking into her bathroom.
Sensing he was not in immediate danger, Logan shrugged out of his coat and placed it on the bed. Ororo returned from the bathroom a moment later, cupping her hand as her eyes turned white.
A tiny storm cloud hovered above her palm as she flattened a towel on the carpeting and placed the puppy down.
“Now, sit,” she commanded.
Pup put his hindquarters directly on the floor; Logan had to hold back a laugh. This dog knew who was boss. Ororo allowed her tiny storm to release its rain, cupping her hands beneath it for the puppy to drink from.
“So, I take it ya like him, then?” Logan asked, trying not to feel a little sentimental as she cared for the puppy.
She looked up, kneeling on the towel as the dog lapped at her hands.
“I would like an explanation as you have admitted he was not intended as a birthday gift.”
Logan nodded, reaching down to unlace his boots.
“Well, I thought bout what you said, bout needin’ a partner and not a protector,” he began, looking over to her.
“I am glad for that,” she said, tilting her head to the side to check something on the puppy’s fur, revealing the smooth expanse of her throat.
Shaking himself back to the topic at hand, he continued, putting his boot carefully under her bed.
“Anyway, the thing is, ‘Ro, I need ya to have a protector. I can’t not want to keep ya from gettin’ hurt,” he sighed, removing his other boot. “So I figured this way you have protection and a partner.”
She was quiet for some time, her eyes fading back to their soft blue as she dissipated the rain cloud, sending the puppy off into the bathroom with a snap of her fingers. Rolling the now wet towel up before taking it into the bathroom, she seemed to be mulling his words over.
He watched her, which had been one of his favorite pastimes for a while now. Her long, silky pants were loose as the bottoms whispered about her socked feet, hanging off her hips and in her trademark white. The tiny tank top she had topped it with was tight, modeling her figure beautifully while keeping mostly everything covered up and had a rather colorful picture of a tornado across the chest. He found himself fascinated by the patch of bare skin, barely two inches wide that allowed her belly button to peek over the edge of her pants.
Jesus, she’s gorgeous, he thought, wondering at his luck.
“A dog here, at the mansion, makes no difference in the field, Logan,” Ororo said at last with a small sigh.
She really did have moments where she reminded him of a naïve kid.
“’Ro, this is a symbol, darlin’,” he explained, standing from the bed and walking over to her. “An animal for an animal, or somethin’.”
Squinting her eyes, she studied him carefully, as though attempting to figure him out. He wanted to laugh, but thought the better of it.
“Logan, the first time you hesitate or disobey an order while we are on a mission, I will request you be placed on the Blue Team,” she said seriously. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute, allowing his itching hands to reach for her.
“And if you ever run away from me again, I will use you as a lightning rod.”
“Understood,” he winced at the mental image, drawing her closer.
Her hands slid up his back, and at that first touch, he knew everything was all right. The sinking feeling that he was unworthy of her, that she was out of his league threatened to consume him. Such a creature of life and beauty…
“Do not doubt yourself, Logan,” she said as if hearing his thoughts. “Or if you must live with this uncertainty, let us do it together.”
Without any hesitation, he brought her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Ororo placed her cheek against his shoulder, her own arms clasping behind his back. They stayed that way for a while, the scent of her washing over him as it always did, giving him the comfort of peace he had been long denied. This was a defining moment, every instant he spent in her embrace took the hurt away a little more.
Puppy howled from the bathroom, breaking them apart. Ororo chuckled, looking over her shoulder to the panting dog, whom was wagging his tail in delight.
“Any idea what you’re namin’ that monster?” Logan asked as she called to him, scooping the fur ball up into her arms.
“Tunza,” she said instantly. “I do believe his name shall be Tunza.”
Logan frowned. “What in hell does that mean?”
She winked, allowing the puppy to lick her chin, right at the dimple that told him he was completely out of the doghouse.
“My love, it is the Swahili word for “protection”.”
He grunted. She laughed. And all was right in his world.
Chapter Twenty-One: Happy Birthday, Miss Munroe by Gaineewop
Chapter Twenty-One: Happy Birthday, Miss Munroe
Something was tickling her face.
Flinching, Ororo attempted to roll over, away from that tingling, feather-soft touch. She was having the most wonderful dream. Jean and Scott were getting married, at last, and Ororo danced with Logan at the wedding, the other X-Men looking on with tears in their eyes.
A soft male chuckle reached her ears and she regretfully came fully into the real world, not wanting to open her eyes.
“Logan?” she murmured sleepily, that tickling sensation ran down her arm and over her bare belly.
“Happy birthday,” the unmistakable voice replied, his warm breath on her ear.
Humming happily, Ororo turned closer to him, batting her heavy eyelids until they remained open. Her vision fought to focus for a moment. Logan was above her, his fingertips dancing over her skin.
“Thank you,” she leaned up for a kiss.
“How old is my girl today, eh? 21?” he grinned at her, kissing her lips.
Ororo laughed against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and threading her legs with his. The blankets were trapped between them, but she paid it no mind. For once, it was not going to rain on her birthday.
“Hardly,” she answered him. “It is not polite to ask a lady her age, you know.”
“Now, darlin’, when have I ever been polite?”
“Hrmm. There you have a point, my love,” she kissed him once more, still quickly, tentatively as the last traces of sleep flew from her body.
“I’ve got somethin’ for ya,” Logan said suddenly, shifting a little on her bed.
She raised a brow. “Either that is a very loaded statement, Logan, or you have forgotten that my gift decided to sleep on the balcony?”
The grin she received was almost impish, even on his rugged face. He turned from her and a moment later she heard the rustle of a plastic bag, followed by a grunt from her lover, most likely due to the way he was bent over her bed.
“Have you been hiding things in my room, Logan?” Ororo asked, stretching out languidly.
“Actually, I snuck out and grabbed it out of One-Eye’s car this mornin’, along with Tunza’s shit.”
Yawning, Ororo hit him gently as reprimand for swearing, although it was more affectionate than anything recently. She did not mind his swearing, though he had curbed his language around her, but she felt she had to react, if not on principle, then because it made him laugh.
“There it is,” Logan muttered, turning his bare chest back to her, a small rectangular box in his hands. “Don’t get excited, it’s not a ring.”
Exhaling sharply with relief, Ororo watched him place the box on her navel, smirking at her all the while.
“Scared ya, didn’t I?”
“You have no idea,” she agreed, winking at him. “May I?”
“Well, yeah, it’s yours,” Logan gave her that look she loved.
The look that told her she was being silly or childlike and he didn’t know quite what to make of it. She had moments of naivety, mostly because Western Culture continued to baffle her. Curiosity had ever been her companion, but as she grew older, she felt she understood less and less about people. And Logan was not just another person.
With a smile of thanks, Ororo took the white velvet box in her hands and gently pushed open the top. Smile faded to a mouth agape look of shock as she lovingly touched the tiny gold pendant upon a delicate chain.
“Logan…”
“Slim and I walked by a jewelry store in the mini-mall last night, I had to get it,” he explained. “I think your birthday bankrupted him.”
Not bothering to chide him for his behavior, Ororo took the pendant from the box, inspecting it closely with her fingers. The tiny lightning bolt was roughly an inch long. It was simple, without any other adornments. Exactly something she would have purchased for herself.
“Do you like it?” he asked, peering at her curiously.
“Yes,” she replied immediately. “Logan, it’s lovely.”
He gave her a smile that made her heart lurch. “Turn around.”
She sat up quickly, turning her back to him and lifting her hair as he took the necklace from her. Logan fought a moment with the delicate clasp before placing the chain about her neck and fastening it.
A soft kiss brushed the nape of her neck and she sighed, closing her eyes. Large, warm arms encircled her quickly, pulling her into his lap as he dropped his chin onto her shoulder.
Sitting in silence like this was one of the things Ororo loved about Logan. While he often portrayed himself as a womanizer, a brash and brutal animal that cared for nothing and no one, she had been pleasantly surprised to find quite to opposite.
Logan’s brashness came not because he felt nothing, but as a reaction to feeling too much. Ororo had been privy to at least some parts of him, the facets of his personality that thrived on intimacy on a level that ranged far beyond the sexual spectrum. While he did enjoy sex, quite often as Ororo had learned, Logan’s true nature was revealed in the moments such as these.
Slowing her breathing to a meditative rhythm, she took his hands, sitting with her back straight and placing them on her abdomen, just over her diaphragm. Almost instinctively, Logan’s breathing matched hers, slipping into a steady thrum that matched the sedate beating of their hearts.
It was one of the tricks she learned for keeping Logan calm, giving him silence he preferred while assuring him that he was cared for. A basic human need to want contact, to want to feel needed and beloved could be found in the warm heart of this otherwise feral man.
With every beat of her heart, she could feel the energy between them building, her body chanting three words she could not speak. In return, she felt the exact same energy from Logan, her skin seeming to soak it up, carrying it to the depths of her soul.
Yes, Logan was animalistic, rude, brash and all the other things everyone thought of him, but he was also filled in infinite tenderness she knew to the bottom of her heart.
“I love it when you do that,” he whispered in a heavy monotone that said he was nearly trancelike.
“What does it give you?” she replied just as flatly.
“Peace,” he inhaled deeply.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Peace.”
~@~
Ororo’s day had been one of the best that she could remember. Jean and Scott had caught her taking Tunza for his morning walk before classes, giving her several volumes of African poetry for her birthday. Jean had eyed the Mastiff puppy Ororo carried warily, though she assured Ororo she had received her medications from Henry to ward off any ill effects.
Henry had left his gift her in classroom before he headed off to his classes. He had stopped to give her well wishes and a kiss upon the cheek, commenting on her necklace with a sweet grin. His gift had been an expensive box of Italian chocolates, which she was instructed to share with no one.
Her students had all wished her a happy birthday, obviously expecting to be given slack from classes due to her “special day”. Ororo did indeed cut their assignment just slightly in celebration of her good mood.
Shortly before the end of her third class, a floral deliveryman knocked on the classroom door, an enormous bouquet of purple and white lilies in his hands.
“I’m looking for an…Oro Munroe?” he stammered.
The children giggled, but Ororo silenced them quickly, she was quite used to her name being mispronounced.
“I am Ororo Munroe,” she moved through the classroom to the door.
“Sorry about that, interesting name…anywho,” he asked her to sign his list, handing her the delicately blown glass vase. “For you, then.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as he exited the room.
“Who are those from, Miss Munroe?” Jubilee asked with a broad grin.
“I do not know, Jubilee…”
The door opened again. “Sorry! Forgot this.”
The deliveryman handed a small package wrapped in plain brown paper to a student. Jessica followed Ororo to her desk as she placed the flowers down, searching for the card. She had never received flowers in such a way. Usually, if she received them at all, they were freshly picked by Jean from her garden and placed in her room after she’d had a bad day.
“Back to work,” she ordered her class, thanking Jessie for bringing the package to her as she located the card.
Just one more way to say, I’m glad you were born.
Logan
Smiling to herself at the absolutely perfect choice of words, Ororo shot a look to her class, most of whom were smirking knowingly. It was the bane of living in a small society. Everyone knew everything about everyone.
They eventually went back to their work, leaving Ororo to gaze at the lovely arrangement. Little wisps of fresh green leaves and baby’s breath surrounded the purple and white flowers. Normally, she was not the type to swoon over romantic gestures, but this was one more way Logan proved himself to be full of surprises.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she knew he was watching her. Turning slowly to the doors of her classroom, she caught a glimpse of dark brown eyes, the corners wrinkled together. Without seeing the rest of his face, she knew he was smiling.
Sitting at her desk, she took the soft brown package in her hands, watching Logan watch her out of the corner of her eye. She unwrapped the gift slowly, wondering what on earth he had done this time.
Four pairs of light blue slipper-socks tumbled into her hands. Ororo almost broke into a laugh, covering her mouth with a hand to hide it from the children. She turned to look for Logan’s eyes, not surprised when he winked before vanishing quickly.
Shaking her head, she hid the socks in her desk drawer and tried, in vain, to go back to work.
~@~
“Ah, there you are my dear child. It seems there are many vying for your attention today, have you time for an old man?”
Ororo turned from her perch on the porch steps, tossing the ball Logan had purchased for Tunza and attempting to make the exuberant puppy chase after it. Charles approached her from the wide doorway, his wheelchair buzzing until he came to a stop.
“Of course, Charles,” she smiled warmly up at him. “I apologize for all of the fuss.”
“At times, it is good to have a fuss made over you,” he searched her face. “And I daresay you are glowing, Ororo.”
Ducking her head to hide a blush, Ororo watched her puppy sniff at Charles, as though trying to decipher whether he was friend or foe.
“I finally have a chance to lay my own eyes on the new member of the household. He has been the talk of the children since this morning,” her mentor said fondly, reaching down to beckon the puppy closer.
“It has been some time since we had an animal here at the mansion, has it not?” Ororo questioned as Tunza approached Charles.
“Indeed,” he replied when the pup reached him. “He does have intelligent eyes. It is no wonder he was selected as your “protector”.”
“Do you always know everything, Charles?” she asked, reaching out to pet Tunza.
“It is my job, my dear,” his blue eyes met hers. “I must say you have never seemed quite this at peace, without nearly tangible control of your gifts.”
“Perhaps it is because I have balance with peace.”
He gave her a fatherly smile. “Yes, it would seem so. Had I known Logan would have this effect on you, I would have located him much sooner.”
“Charles,” she chided, biting back a smile.
“I do not like to meddle in your personal affairs, you know that, Ororo, but I fear I must say that while I would not have guessed he would be a good match for you, Fate seems to think otherwise. For that, I am grateful beyond words,” Charles said in that soft manner he reserved for private moments.
Ororo felt her heart constrict with the emotion in his words. He had become closer to her than any other father figure in the span of her life, bringing her into a new world that gave her purpose and meaning. She owed him more than she could ever hope to repay and as the years went on, she found he continued to give to all of his X-Men.
“Thank you, Charles,” she replied at last. “But does Tunza not have your blessing as well?”
“Only if he remains out of my office,” he quipped, making her laugh.
She saw a shadow pass over his eyes and reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers gently. He had many regrets in his life and most of them stemmed from his dream, fear of pushing the people he loved too far too quickly.
“Charles, you have given us all new lives. If you need any further reminders of the good you have done, look no further than this former goddess, turned thief, and finally schoolteacher.”
Knowing he would not reply, she took her hand away, scooping up Tunza and snapping her fingers.
“Go find Logan and get your supper, precious,” she held up her shirt to the puppy’s snout, not at all surprised when he licked her chin before she released him.
Charles watched the Mastiff bolt back into the house, nose to the ground as he searched for Logan. A wistful smile played about his lips as Ororo wiped the canine saliva from her face.
“I have something for you, Ororo, in honor of your birthday,” he said suddenly, reaching into his pocket.
“Charles, you need not…”
“Have I ever missed your birthday? Or are you merely overwhelmed with the love everyone in this mansion has finally decided to show you this year?” he raised a brow, revealing a small cardboard box from his pocket.
She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “No, you never have. Not since my sixteenth year when you learned the specific date.”
“It may seem strange, Ororo, but what you have experienced today is what many have all of their lives. I suggest you become acquainted with this breed of devotion. Logan does not seem to let anything he cares for get away from him easily,” Charles handed her the box, covering her hand with his for a moment.
Silently pondering his words, she opened the box carefully, pulling a tiny black statue of a woman with flowing hair and red tribal robes from the bubble wrap.
“I had it carved for you several weeks ago,” he explained when her eyes went wide. “I trust it is an accurate depiction.”
“Mother…” she whispered, lovingly touching the five-inch tall statue.
“N’Dare Munroe, carved from the single file photograph we have of her,” Charles nodded. “With all your blessings this year, I thought you would like to have another goddess to add to your ever-growing collection.”
Tears filled Ororo’s eyes, but she blinked them back, along with the telltale sting that would herald a rainstorm. If it began to rain now, Logan would be outside in an instant, wondering what had upset her.
“No tears, my child,” Charles said quietly. “Do not allow lingering grief to consume you.”
Ororo scooted until she could kneel beside him. She embraced him warmly, kissing his hairless head when she pulled away. “Thank you.”
“You are quite welcome.”
Before she could reply, Jean stepped onto the porch, smiling at them both.
“Did you give it to her?” she asked with a sky smirk.
“Oh, yes, and for a moment I feared for our lovely evening,” the Professor said.
“Quiet, the both of you,” Ororo shot back, holding her hand out so Jean could help her stand.
Showing her friend the statue, she felt her heart twist again. She had been entirely unfair to Jean the previous day and as she had with Logan, there was dirty laundry that needed airing. Soon.
“Professor,” Jean said after admiring the sculpture of N’Dare. “Jeffrey and Kayla had a bit of an altercation in the Rec Room. There are scorch marks and slime all over the ping pong table, but neither of them will speak to me about it.”
The older man sighed, shaking his head. “All right, I will speak with them. He seems to be adjusting slowly. I fear his experiences in Chicago affected him more than he is letting on.”
Water. Pain. Logan.
“Ororo?”
She blinked, suddenly aware that she had faded away for a moment. Looking down, she watched Jean motion with her hands, bringing the dropped sculpture of N’Dare to her. Ororo had released it at some point, nearly destroying her lovely gift.
“Are you all right, child?” Charles asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
“Yes. I suppose the memories of Chicago affect us all,” she replied, swallowing hard.
Jean laid a hand on her arm, green eyes afire with concern. Ororo, shoving back any animosity that arose from the day before, smiled as best she could.
“Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”
“Perhaps later. For now, I am going to…”
“Phone call for Miss Munroe!” Bobby shouted from the kitchen.
Smiling her apologies, Ororo slid past them, happy for the escape and darted into the kitchen. To her surprise, Logan was sitting at the table beside Bobby, holding the corded phone over his head.
Ororo took the phone, placing the receiver to her ear as she passed the table, squeaking when Logan swatted her backside.
“Miss Munroe,” she spoke, giving him a playful glare. Bobby had his hands over his ears, eyes closed tight and began singing “Yellow Submarine” at the top of his voice.
Logan knocked him on the head to make him stop.
“Storm?”
“Yes? Who is this?” she replied to the unfamiliar male voice.
“We’re watching you, pretty lady,” he said in a singsong tone. “I did like the flowers, nice touch from your man. Think he’ll put pretty purple lilies on your gravestone?”
Shaking from head to toe, Ororo kept her voice flat. “Who is this?”
Logan stood up.
“He’ll probably bury you wearing those cute blue socks too, eh? Maybe he’d wear the lightning bolt necklace? Yeah, I’ll bet he’s the sentimental type…”
“Ororo, hang up the phone,” Logan growled.
“I’ll bet those claws of his will come out any second now. Yeah, he’ll be looking for us, but we’ll get to you first.”
Hand gripping the phone, Ororo turned suddenly, flipping on the tracing equipment before replying.
“He will be the least of your problems when I locate you,” she spat acidly.
“I wouldn’t worry about that, Storm, mistress of the elements. You won’t even see us coming…”
“Hang up the phone!”
“Why don’t you give that animal of yours a message…tell him no matter what he does, no matter how hard he looks, he’ll be putting those lilies on your grave very soon.”
The dial tone echoed through the receiver.
Ororo looked to the tracking panel, not surprised when it told her there had not been enough time to trace the call. Swallowing hard, she cradled the receiver. Looking up, she noted Logan, Bobby, Peter and Jean staring at her, worry etched all over their faces.
“Purple lilies…on my grave…”
~@~
Logan had not left her side in roughly three hours. No matter where she went in the mansion, he was right beside her. Now, as she curled up on the sofa in the Professor’s office, he handed her a cup of tea before plopping into the space beside her.
He had been the one to call the others, handing her to Bobby as she went from completely calm to shell shocked in less than a minute. Logan, her love, the man who could complete a laundry list of tasks within seconds, had taken control over the situation. The children were in bed, and the adults finally sitting to discuss the horrid phone call.
“This is not the first time the school has received a telephonic threat,” Charles said from his chessboard.
“Never targeted at a specific person though,” Jean replied from across the board.
“And not with that kind of information,” Scott chimed in from his position by the window, where he had been pacing for the last several minutes.
“I would venture to say that our lovely Storm is in danger, even within the walls of the school,” Henry said, reaching over to pat her hand.
“Yeah? They’ll have to get through me,” Logan growled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and clutching her tightly.
It was perhaps the first time he had ever done so in the presence of others, and that muted look of surprise on every face told her the others had recognized this as well.
“Me too,” Rogue said bluntly.
“And me,” Bobby chimed in.
“Mark the rest of us down,” Peter said in his solemn tone. “There is no chance they will take Storm from us.”
Ororo smiled at them all, though the expression felt as false as she was sure it looked. Jean winked at her, though her eyes betrayed her concern.
“Don’t you feel loved right about now, sister dear?”
She nodded slightly, curling her blue-slipper-socked-feet up under her a little more. She hated being the object of concern. It was not in her nature to ask for help. She wanted to rise up and rebel against the entire episode. To make herself their equal again. The call had frightened her, but that was no cause for general alarm.
“I believe we should place a tracking device on Ororo, as a precautionary measure, of course,” Charles said gently.
A tag. As though she were a dog.
“Is that necessary? You don’t really leave the mansion anyway,” Scott piped up.
“Yes, but you will all be needed for the mission the moment the word comes in,” Beast answered, scratching his blue face.
“Am I no longer free to join the X-Men on missions?” she inquired, sitting up and shrugging Logan’s arm away.
“You shouldn’t leave the mansion, dear,” Jean said quietly.
“I am in danger here as well as off the grounds,” she countered, standing.
“’Ro, come on…”
“Ororo,” Charles tried.
Not wanting to hear another word, Ororo pulled away from Logan’s searching hand and stomped to the office door. She opened it and left it open as she marched into the hall.
It was late, the children would be sleeping at last, there would be no whispers of “Miss Munroe’s temper tantrum”. Grumbling about lack of respect, Ororo turned toward the garage, pausing to collect her car keys from the rack.
As if hearing the jingle of keys, Ororo heard Logan from the office.
“Aw, shit!”
She bolted.
Ororo had lived in the mansion for nearly a decade. She rounded corners and leaped over furniture by memory. She skidded on her socks in the hall, grabbing the doorknob to the garage entrance and slipped outside.
“Ro!”
Ignoring Logan’s call, Ororo pushed the button to open the garage door and wrenched the handle of the door to her white Mini. The mansion door opened, revealing Logan as well as most of the others. He entered the garage as she placed the keys into the ignition and roared the engine to life.
Logan reached her as she buckled her seat belt, locking the doors with the push of a button.
“Storm! Turn the damn car off!” he cried, pounding on the window.
She shook her head, pointing to her ears as if she could not hear him. This was a blatant act of childish rebellion that could very well get her killed and she knew it. She reveled in it. Here, in this one act, she felt an odd remembrance of the night several years ago when she had run away from the mansion, from Xavier’s dream.
Looking directly into Logan’s eyes, she grabbed the gearshift and pounded on the clutch. The car shot into reverse. She whipped the wheel around into a perfect 180-degree turn. Another movement of her hand and feet and she was screaming for the gates.
A quick look to her mirror told her that Logan was standing in the driveway, glaring after her. She would pay for this later, but she would teach them all a lesson in the meantime. She was not a damsel in distress. She was an adult, an X-Man, a formidable mutant in her own right.
The car slid through the gates as they closed, seemingly to lock her in. Ororo turned the car to the west and shot off into the night, hoping the speed would drive away the memories of Chicago and the rasping voice that spoke so calmly of her grave.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Deafening Crash by Gaineewop
Chapter Twenty-Two: Deafening Crash
“Keys!”
And she had the nerve to get on him about running away.
Scott tossed him a set of car keys as he turned, listening to the low whine of the white Mini’s engine as Ororo tore off into the night. When he caught her, she was going to get a piece of his mind. Several of them, in fact.
Catching the keys, he nodded as One-Eye pointed to the Mazda, opening the passenger side door and settling in the seat. The others merely looked on, most of them with worried expressions on their faces.
Logan’s eyes caught Jean’s. She was biting her lip, wringing her hands together as Rogue put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“We’ll find her,” he grunted, opening the driver’s door.
He slipped into the seat, slamming the door and grumbling as he turned the keys in the ignition.
“She’s headed west,” Logan told his teammate. “Anythin’ she likes back that way?”
Scott nodded, pulling his seat belt on as Logan pushed the car out of the garage.
“Yeah, the campsite,” he offered, holding onto the “Oh Shit” handle “ Rogue’s fond term for them “ in reaction to Logan’s driving. “Don’t drive angry, man.”
“I’m not angry,” he replied as they passed the gates. “I’m pissed off.”
“Ok,” his companion stated with an audible gulp. “Don’t drive pissed off, then.”
Logan rolled his window down, one hand gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “What the fuck is her problem?”
Scott didn’t respond for a moment as he flipped on the car’s GPS system. There was a palpable silence, which Logan grit his teeth through. He hadn’t known Storm as long as they all did, and obviously he was missing something.
“She doesn’t like to be caged,” the younger mutant said at last. “Being confined to the mansion is one thing, taking away missions is another.”
“So she takes off?”
“Last time she did something like this was years ago. She doesn’t normally walk out on the Professor,” Scott said, lingering on the end of his statement.
“What happened last time?”
“We found her six months later in New Orleans, Louisiana. She was a member of the Thieves Guild. She only came back when Jean went there and gave her the guilt trip of the century.”
Logan’s foot pressed the accelerator harder, shifting the Mazda again. It wasn’t as if they had enough to worry about. The Brotherhood, Magneto’s request for their help in that refugee camp, Mystique, and the Friends of Humanity were all closing in on them, converging like storm cells over the Atlantic.
Ororo was definitely getting a talking to when he caught up with her.
For half an hour, Scott and Logan searched to the west of the mansion. At first, Logan followed the sounds of her car’s engine, the faint trace of her scent on the air. As though she knew he was tracking her, she had accelerated out of his range.
Then, just as the GPS system on Ororo’s car was activated, telling them that something had gone wrong, Logan spotted tire marks skidding off into the woods.
He swerved the car, cold fear sinking into his stomach.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Scott shouted as the car lurched to a halt.
Without responding, Logan leaped out of the car, darting across the silent street, his heart pounding in his chest. He heard Scott scramble out of the Mazda, the door slamming behind him.
There was a trail of tire marks off of the road and into the sparsely wooded area surrounding the highway. Following the indentions of thin tires, Logan ran down the steep slope, crouching low to keep from falling.
“Ok, Slim?” he called over his shoulder, hoping his worst fear was not about to come true.
“Yeah! See anything?” came the response form just behind him.
“Not yet…”
Logan hit the bottom of the slope and took off at a run, his breath sounding loud in his own ears. Sniffing the air, he finally found a trace of rain, Ororo’s scent.
And blood.
“Hurry!” he yelled, bolting into the woods, keeping his eyes, ears and nose open.
He heard Scott’s steps from behind him. His nose told him that Ororo was close, and the scent of blood was almost overwhelming.
Just an accident, he prayed. Just an accident and she hit her head. Just an accident…
As he finished his thought, he caught the scent of burning anti-freeze and set eyes on the crushed tail end of Ororo’s car only a dozen yards from him. Her personalized plates were bent to the side, the “STORMY 1” broken in half.
She had hit a tree head on. Something didn’t ring true here. As he pushed his body faster, he reminded himself the Storm was trained in handling cars at high speeds, her reaction times were…
A familiar, bloodied hand was hanging out of the car door, which was slightly ajar.
“Ororo!”
Blood splattered the windshield and as Logan finally reached the car, he roared.
“NO!”
Ororo’s body was slumped in her seat, her head gashed open from hitting the steering wheel, deep red seeping into her white hair. Her light blue pajamas were soaked in blood, the necklace he’d given her reflected the dim light from her broken headlights.
Four large bullet holes oozed from her chest.
Logan yanked the door open as Scott reached them. He ripped the seat belt from her, tears stinging his eyes as he took her limp body into his arms, collapsing beside the car as he pulled her to his chest.
“Look!” he screamed brokenly to Scott. “Look what they did!”
He could hear Scott punch 911 into his cellular phone, but he couldn’t look away from Ororo’s ashen face. Something oozed onto his hand from her back. Another bullet wound. He pulled the hand away, staring at it in a sort of hollow shock.
“Look what they did to her!” he cried again, reaching into the destroyed car for one of the spare towels she always carried.
Pressing it to the wound in her back, he cradled her, rocking her lifeless body as sirens began to wail in the distance.
~@~
His hands were stained with her blood. He stared at them in the harsh lights of the Trauma Center at St. Mary’s Hospital, unable to think of anything but his love’s cold body in his arms, her shallow breathing.
Scott was beside him, completely silent as he had been since they arrived. It had taken a lot to get Logan to release Ororo’s body to the paramedics, but finally Scott was able to get through.
He’d been pushed into the Mazda as they sped off after the ambulance, which reached St. Mary’s at shortly after one in the morning. Logan knew, on some level, that Scott had called the Professor at home, telling him that Ororo had been shot.
Logan refused to think the word killed. Her necklace was in his hands as well, the bit of gold splattered with Ororo’s lifeblood. So much blood.
They had taken her directly into surgery and no one had been out yet to speak with them. The cops would be called, because of the accident and the gunshots. There would be questions.
Logan, let her go, they’re here to help.
Look! They did this to her! Look at this! God, no…’Ro, wake up, darlin’…
Logan, she needs a hospital…
‘Ro…no, please, God…don’t…
He shook the wayward memory from his thoughts, staring from his bloodied hands to the O.R. doorway where they’d taken her prone form. They had tubes and needles in her and that brought him to unpleasant memories that had nothing to do with the woman he loved.
The door flew open and Logan instantly smelled four familiar scents wafting toward him over the stench of Ororo’s blood. He could not look up, he could not say anything as Jean rushed into her fiancé’s arms, crying softly against his shoulder.
Rogue fell into the seat next to him and before he could order her to go away, she enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him tightly.
Giving in to the innocent scent of his “little sister”, he hugged her back, hands clenching around the tiny lightning bolt pendant. She was whispering to him, trying to soothe him, but there was nothing to soothe. He felt empty, devoid of even the beserker rage he had become accustomed to.
“What happened?”
Chuck was talking to Scott.
“On the surface, it looks like someone took advantage of a major car accident and decided to finish the job,” Scott replied quietly. “But I think someone caused the accident.”
“Yes, I agree,” Chuck’s voice caught with emotion. “She is an accomplished driver.”
“Have the doctors said anything?” Jean asked just as softly.
“Not yet. I’m down as next of kin, so they told me…it was bad, Jean.”
Everyone fell silent as Logan continued to hold on to Rogue. He could hear them all settle in the wide hallway, in chairs around him, but he could not get the image of Ororo’s body out of his mind.
Why had she taken off? Why couldn’t she just stay put? Why hadn’t he been able to catch her?
Hours ticked by and soon the pink stain of dawn filtered through the large Emergency Room doors. Other patients came in, some went home but they had no news of Ororo. Logan sat beside Rogue, her gloved hand clutching his.
Charles had confessed that the school was closed for the day. The children had learned of the accident, which is all they knew, and were moping about under Hank’s care. He had called only a few moments ago, asking for an update.
Jean hadn’t stopped crying. Scott hadn’t moved. Charles looked completely at a loss. Bobby had his head down, as though he were praying.
“Scott Summers?”
The entire group jumped in their seats.
Scott stood easily, taking the two strides to the elderly doctor. “That’s me.”
“You’re here as Ororo Munroe’s next of kin? I assume you’re Charles Xavier and Doctor Jean Grey?” he asked kindly.
“Yes,” the Professor nodded, rolling his wheelchair over as he indicated to the others. “They are close friends as well.”
The doctor nodded. “I’m Doctor Janus, I was the lead surgeon that worked on Miss Munroe.”
“How is she?” Scott demanded as Logan came up behind him, still holding Rogue’s hand.
“I’m afraid I have good news and bad news,” he said carefully. “Miss Munroe’s head injury required twenty stitches. She had a minor concussion and several cracked ribs from the accident.”
Logan swallowed. She was alive. They wouldn’t have stitched her up if she weren’t alive.
“She was incredibly lucky. Four of the bullet wounds were easy enough to repair. They hit no major organs. However, the fifth, which hit her in the back, was precariously close to her spinal cord.”
“Were you able to remove it?” Chuck broke in.
“Yes, and there does not seem to be any damage to her spinal cord,” he paused. “There is some swelling and she may have limited use of her legs for some time.”
“Prognosis?” Jean asked quickly.
“The next twenty-four hours will tell, Doctor Grey. She is still intubated from the surgery and she has not regained consciousness. This could be from the anesthetic or from her head wound.”
“Jean?” Logan broke in. “English?”
Jean nodded. “She has a tube in her throat to breathe for her, it’s fairly common with the extent of her injuries. Her brain was bruised and that could mean that while it’s healing, she’ll be in a coma.”
Logan tried to not notice how she choked on the last word.
“Jean…”
“At this point, Mr…”
“Logan,” all of them said at once.
“Mr. Logan,” the doctor looked at them all strangely. “Her chances for survival are very good, at least from where I sit. But it all hinges on when she wakes up.”
“Paralysis?”
“Only time will tell,” he replied, looking sorry to bear such bad news.
“When can we see her?” Scott asked. Logan noted tears in the younger man’s eyes.
“We’ll be moving her to the Intensive Care Unit in just a moment. You may see her before we get into the elevator and then, I’m afraid I can only allow one person upstairs with her,” he looked around at them all. “Brace yourselves, this will not be a pretty sight.”
The doctor excused himself back into the Operating Room, shaking Scott’s hand quickly. Jean touched Logan’s arm.
“Go up with her,” she said softly. “If what the doctor says is correct, she may be able to hear you.”
“You’re the doctor, shouldn’t you…”
Jean shook her head. “I want you to go. Sit with her, talk to her. We’ll see you in the morning, ok?”
Logan nodded as the OR doors opened. A young nurse smiled faintly as she pulled a long rolling bed out of the room.
Heart in his throat, Logan watched the bed appear slowly, his Ororo covered in white blankets. There were tubes and needles all over her and they had not washed the blood from her hair. Swallowing hard, he pushed past his friends and moved up to the bed as it stopped.
“God, ‘Ro…”
The others approached cautiously, each touching her hand or kissing her forehead. Her hands were cold, her lips blue around the tube taped to her face. She looked like something out of his nightmares and his heart broke for her.
“Logan will be heading up with her,” Jean told Doctor Janus.
“He isn’t marked as next of kin.”
“I know, but he is Ororo’s fiancée,” Jean lied smoothly, Logan fought to keep his face impassive. “She hasn’t had time to change her paperwork yet.”
Janus looked between Jean and Logan for a moment, finally sighing and nodding his head. “All right, sign this wavier then, Mr. Summers.”
Logan nodded a thanks and goodbye as Scott did the paperwork. The nurses began to roll Ororo away, beckoning him to follow with understanding smiles. He held her hand tightly, taking the other and placing her lightning bolt necklace over the hookup for her IV.
“That’s very pretty,” one nurse commented as they entered the elevator.
“Yeah,” Logan replied. “Some birthday this turned out to be.”
~@~
“The police said there were tire marks that ran right into Storm’s car,” Scott was saying over the phone. “They matched a stolen SUV, which was found about five miles from her accident site. The Professor told the cops that she had a laptop and her wallet in the car, so they are writing this up as a robbery.”
Logan switched the phone to his other ear, watching Ororo’s forced breathing from the chair to the side of her bed.
“What fuckin’ difference does it make?”
“Last thing we need around the mansion is cops investigating a police report about mutant violence,” Scott said meekly. “Has there been any change?”
“Not yet, but she’s lookin’ a little less blue,” Logan said, grabbing the coffee a nurse had brought him. “I keep hopin’ I’ll curse and she’ll open her eyes to glare at me.”
Scott chuckled. “Hey, might work. If swearing won’t do it, try insulting me. That always gets at least an eye roll out of her.”
Logan smiled a little. “I’ll give it a shot.”
“Hey, Artie wants to talk to you, got a minute?”
“Yeah, put him on.”
There was a muffled sound of Scott covering the receiver and a shout for Artie. Logan waited patiently, his eyes never leaving Ororo’s prone form. He heard the mansion’s side of the phone click and then the sound of Artie’s voice.
“Logan? How’s Miss Munroe?” he asked, sounding frightened.
“Hey, squirt,” he said, inflecting false cheer into his voice. “She’s doin’ better.”
“She woken up yet?”
“Not yet, kid, but I’m sure she’s gettin’ there, so better finish your homework.”
“You’re taking care of her, right?”
“Yeah, bud. I’m takin’ care of her. Now go tell the others Miss Munroe is doin’ better and I’ll call the second she wakes up. We’ll do one of those conference things,” Logan said, trying to reassure himself as well as Artie.
“I’ll do that, Logan. Give her a hug for me.”
With that, Scott took the phone again.
“Thanks, they feel better hearing it from you,” Scott said as though the words caused him pain.
“Just cause I’m here with her,” Logan said quickly. “How’s Jeanie holdin’ up?”
“She says she can get a sense of Ororo, so her mind’s in tact, but the lack of coherent thought is messing her up.”
“Yeah? Damn, well two hours ago she couldn’t get anythin’ but dead silence. Let’s be thankful for small fuckin’ favors,” Logan chuckled hollowly.
“How are you holding up?” Scott asked, genuine concern in his voice.
“Been better,” Logan admitted. “I’m fuckin’ exhausted, but…”
“Don’t want to leave in case she wakes up. I know,” Scott’s voice was pained.
Both men were silent for a moment. “I’ll call if anythin’ changes.”
“Ok.”
Scott hung up.
Logan cradled the receiver as a nurse entered, carrying a bag of saline and a pillow for him. He liked this nurse. She had honey hair and a somber but sweet disposition that said she had found her calling. Erica was her name and she had doted on Ororo the fifteen hours she had been in ICU.
“Hello, Logan,” she greeted. “I brought you a pillow and some more saline for our girl here. Would you like some dinner? The nurses are ordering Chinese and I’d be happy to place an order for you, too.”
She had handed him the pillow and moved Ororo’s bedside during her speech, efficiently changing the dry bag of fluid for the full one before checking the levels on Ororo’s breathing equipment.
“Uh, sure. Chicken Lo Mein, Beef and Broccoli and…” he paused, reaching into his pocket.
He’d been about to order for Ororo too. Closing his eyes, he took the money from his wallet and held it out.
“Don’t worry, Logan. It’s on me,” she said cautiously, as if she knew what he had nearly done. “Give us about half an hour?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he slipped the twenty back into his pocket. No way would he turn down a free dinner after the ridiculous lunch of horrid hospital food.
“I’ll have them bring a roll away in, if you want,” she went on, heading for the door. She paused, smiling faintly. “You’ve got the look of a “Visiting hours don’t apply to me” type.”
He had to smile at that. “Yeah, I’m not leavin’ until she opens her eyes.”
Erica nodded as she left the room, heading back down toward the nurses’ station. Once the door closed, Logan was left with only the hissing of the machines breathing for Ororo and the beeping that monitored her heart.
Scooting his chair toward the bed, he took her hand, noting they had missed a spot of blood from her thumbnail when Erica had helped clean her up. Her hair was still a little stained, but she no longer reeked of the metallic scent.
“Hey, darlin’,” he whispered to her. “How bout wakin’ up now?”
She didn’t even twitch.
“I know you’re pissed off at us, and I won’t tell you I told you so,” he went on. “I’ll never mention it ever again if you open your eyes.”
The beeping continued.
“I’m sorry, ‘Ro. I’m sorry I wasn’t there this time. I know you don’t need a protector, but you did need a partner. Partners look out for each other,” his voice caught and he cleared his throat. “Come on, baby, wake up. Show me those beautiful eyes, even if you just want to tell me off.”
He felt a sting behind his eyes and the lump in his throat seemed to swell. She looked dead. He could barely smell the scent of rain on her. Logan reached up, touching her cheek softly as he blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
A hundred memories flooded him. Ororo’s smile at reading his card that afternoon, the way he’d woken her in the morning, her smile as Tunza bounced around to be let out…that kiss in the theatre, snowfall in her bedroom…the day she’d watched him in the Danger Room…
“If you don’t wake up, ‘Ro,” his voice cracked, so he paused before continuing. “I know you can hear me. Wake up.”
He stared at her for a long time, praying she would move, open her eyes or otherwise show she had heard him. As before, she remained where she was, the tubes and monitors keeping her alive.
Sitting back in his chair, he looked up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes, the images of her in the twisted metal of her beloved Mini-Coupe consuming him. Before he could stop it, hot tears leaked from his eyes, slipping down his cheeks in the deafening silence.
~@~
“Ah have tah see him!”
Logan startled awake, falling from the chair with a thud. He instantly looked up, his hands balled into fists, ready for action.
Looking to the bed, he noted that Ororo had not awoken, and his heart sank.
“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t allow you in,” he heard Erica reply.
“Logan!”
“Rogue?” Logan wiped his face with his hands, walking to the door and opening it quickly.
Rogue stood at the desk, looking more than a little frazzled. She turned when he stepped out of Ororo’s room and gave him a small smile. He watched as she fiddled with her belt buckle, which bore a large “X” engraved on it.
“Its ok, Erica,” Logan said, catching the hint.
The pretty nurse nodded. “I’ll sit with Miss Munroe, why don’t you go get a cup of coffee?”
Logan nodded, though he was nearly in pain as he led Rogue away from the room. Checking the clock above the nurses’ station, he noted Ororo had been in her coma for nearly twenty hours. Worry began to eat at him.
Pulling his young friend into an empty room, he held his hands out.
“What?”
She inhaled deeply. “We got another call bout an hour ago. The man wasn’t careful and Jean was able tah keep him on the line long enough tah get a trace.”
Logan felt a growl beginning in his chest. “And?”
“That camp Magneto was talkin’ bout? That’s where it came from. Mystique contacted Magneto an’ told him she had just heard they’d kill Storm.”
“One-Eye’s got a plan?”
Rogue nodded. “He wanted tah know if you were in. He’s waitin’ in the car.”
He paced a moment, running a hand through his hair. On one hand, he didn’t want to be out of arm’s length from Ororo until he knew she would be all right. On the other, the idea of finding the asshole that had pulled the trigger and ripping his heart out was an extremely attractive option.
“Does Mystique know which one?”
“Yeah,” Rogue replied instantly. “Cyclops doesn’t want ya goin’ vigilante, but Ah don’t think what Scott wants matters much.”
Logan snorted. “You know me too well, kid.”
He paced again. He couldn’t let this slide. When she woke, he wanted to be able to tell her that the anti-mutant bastard that had hurt her would never hurt anyone ever again. He wanted to look her in the eye and know he’d done what he could.
“All right,” he said at last. “You stay with ‘Ro. Don’t you leave her alone, Marie.”
She looked him seriously, a glint of something indescribable in her eyes.
“Ah promise, Logan. Slice ‘em once or twice for me.”
“You got it, kid.”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Ororo Wakes by Gaineewop
Chapter Twenty-Three: Ororo Wakes
There was silence in her room for a long time, broken only by the nurse she had heard Logan refer to as “Erica” moving about. She had a soft voice and whenever she spoke, Ororo felt as though she were listening to Jean prattle on about things, as she always did.
She could remember the terror of the accident. The SUV had swerved so suddenly, bearing down on her. She had managed to control her Mini, but the SUV deftly bumped her. The only option had been to try to make it down the slope.
It had been dark, the slope so steep she had lost control rather easily. The entire time, she wondered if Logan was close behind her. She knew him, he would have come after her, wanting to scream at her for being stupid.
The crash had nearly killed her. Crunching metal, hissing valves, the echoing silence. She had bashed her forehead on the steering wheel, feeling blood ooze from the open wound. Trying to get her bearings, locate her car phone to call for help, she’d never heard them coming.
The deafening shot would forever be burned into her memory. Pain had zinged through her back. She’d screamed against it, falling back in her seat. It was then she saw the face of her attacker. Breathing erratic, she knew the injury was bad. It was the boy from the parking lot of the mall, the same in that clearing with Logan…and he had a firearm aimed at her chest.
Unable to move, or even draw on her psionic control of the elements, she had watched with horror as he opened the door calmly. His lips curled into a malicious sneer as he unloaded four more shots into her chest.
The door was pushed back slowly. Delirious with the pain, she had reached to the man standing behind the boy, gasping for help as she weakened. She knew, without a doubt that she was dying.
All because she wanted to show them that she was a big girl.
The thought made her want to cry. She remembered darkness consuming her, an echo of a broken scream. Warm arms lifting her, holding her before she lost all thought to black.
She could hear now, but her eyes would not open, her limbs seemingly dead. She was wounded, badly. Thinking she was dying, she had inwardly wept.
And then Logan was there. He held her hand, whispered to her. She knew she was in some kind of coma, from the way he begged her to wake. Ororo wanted to reach for him, to tell him she was here. She simply lacked the strength.
The door opened again.
“Miss?”
“Ah know, but there was an emergency back home and Logan had tah leave. Can I sit with her? She’s closer than mah aunt.”
Rogue.
A sigh.
“All right, I suppose. Just talk to her, try to get her to wake up. Call me if something changes, ok?”
“Ah promise.”
Someone patted her bed. Footsteps. The door closed.
Familiar footfalls told her Rogue was approaching. The girl took her hand in hers, squeezing it gently.
“Ah suppose Ah should go ahead and tell yah,” Rogue began in a whisper. “We know where they are, the ones that hurt yah so bad, ‘Roro.”
NO! Rogue, tell him to come back!
“Yeah, Logan went back to the mansion. Cyclops doesn’t want him tah kill ‘em, but…Ah think there won’t be any stoppin’ him.”
Logan…my Logan.
“Ah know yah probably don’t want him tah do it, but…Ah think it’s because he blames himself.”
Goddess above…Rogue, stop him. He’ll never forgive himself.
“Don’t worry,” a gloved hand touched her brow. “You’ll wake up an’ he’ll be here. He has tah do this, ‘Roro.”
She felt the blackness returning, taking her to a place with no pain, no matter how she tried to hold on. She wanted to move, to scream at Rogue that she was there, that Logan had to return. She knew what would happen.
Beserker rage would overtake him, in defense of her, he would evoke a reckoning on those that had harmed her. There would be nothing, no force of nature strong enough to pull him back.
And when he returned to himself, with more death on his hands, he would doubt himself again. She had to wake. She had to get to him.
She had to wake.
~@~
She twitched.
With an inward gasp, Ororo’s mind came awake. She tried again, succeeding in moving her fingers just slightly on the coarse bed sheets.
All right, Ororo. Now, open your eyes.
She concentrated as hard as she could, but her eyelids refused to budge. Wanting to scream at the top of her voice, she tried again.
And it worked.
Ororo blinked once more, tears swelling behind her eyes as the pain overcame her. There was something in her throat…a tube. A breathing tube. Calmly allowing the machine to breathe for her, she winced against the harsh light, looking about her for some sign as to where Rogue had gone.
A white streak in a mass of dark brown lay beside her arm. Wanting to smile, Ororo twitched her fingers, coming into contact with more of that silky hair. Wrapping a lock about her finger took several seconds, but once it was done, she gave it a small tug.
The sleeping girl did not move, so Ororo tried again, tugging harder.
Rogue popped up like one of Henry’s apple turnovers, blinking as she scratched her head in confusion.
Her eyes met Ororo’s and hands flew up to cover her mouth.
“You’re awake!” she breathed.
Ororo nodded gently, wincing against the pain. With a gentle motion, she indicated to the tube in her throat.
“Oh! Oh, hang on, ‘Roro. Hang on!” Rogue jumped up, rushing for the door.
“Nurse! Nurse, she’s awake!”
There was commotion outside. Ororo waited patiently as Rogue sounded the alarms. A few moments of lonesomeness later, the girl returned, flanked by an older female doctor and two nurses.
“Hello, Miss Munroe. Can you hear me?” the doctor asked, shining a light into her eyes.
Ororo nodded.
“Good. Want me to take the tube out?”
Ororo nodded more emphatically.
“All right, hold on there, love.”
Rogue took her hand, making Ororo look at her. The pretty Southern girl had tears in her eyes. Ororo squeezed her hand gently, wishing they would take the infernal tube from her throat so she could speak.
“Miss Munroe,” the doctor took her attention once more. “I’m going to count to three. On two, I want you to take a deep breath. And on three, blow it out as hard as you can, all right?”
Ororo nodded, motioning weakly for Rogue to stand away. She had seen this done a number of times and it would no doubt frighten her poor companion. The doctor pulled the tape from her face and Ororo closed her eyes.
“One, two, three!”
She felt the tube wrenched from her throat and turned to vomit. A pretty young nurse held her hair back, catching the contents of Ororo’s stomach neatly in a basin. Rogue was crying as Ororo hoarsely cried out against the pain in her chest.
“It’s all right,” the doctor was saying. “She’ll be fine, sweetie.”
Rogue inched back up to Ororo, leaning down to kiss her hair.
“L-Logan?” she croaked, reaching for Rogue’s hand.
“He had tah get back home, ‘Roro. He’ll be back soon,” she whispered as the nurse and doctor began looking over Ororo.
“Miss Munroe, would you tell me if you can feel this?”
The doctor was at the foot of her bed, holding the blanket up with one hand. A moment later, Ororo felt something cold slide up her instep. She giggled weakly.
“Tickles.”
It may have been her imagination, but she could hear several sighs of relief from the occupants of her room. Raising a brow made her entire forehead hurt. With a shaking hand she reached up, touching the long line of stitches across her previously flawless skin.
The doctor moved to her with a sad smile.
“Perhaps I should explain…”
~@~
“Oh my dear child, it is good to hear your voice,” the Professor’s voice was filled with tears as she smiled into the telephone receiver Rogue was holding to her parched lips.
“Are the children listening?” she asked, her voice still scratchy from her intubation.
“Yes, every room can hear you now. I believe you have their full attention.”
Ororo cleared her throat harshly. “Hello, everyone. I know I must sound terrible, but I assure you, I will be home before you know it. Until I do, please listen to Miss Marie in all of your classes.”
A beep told her someone wanted to reply and a moment later, Artie’s voice echoed to her.
“Miss Munroe! We were so worried.”
“I know, Artie, but please do not worry. I will be home soon,” she winced, it still hurt terribly to move.
“We made cards for you,” Artie said quickly, as though someone was rushing him. “We put them in your classroom like Mr. Logan told us to. He said you’d want to see them when you came home.”
The sound of his name made Ororo’s heart clench. They had not heard anything from the team as of yet and she fretted constantly. She had been awake only a few hours, during which she had been poked and prodded and looked over by half a dozen doctors.
Rogue had not left her side, but she desperately wanted Logan. She knew he would hate himself for being gone when she awoke, among other things.
“Artie, I am afraid I must go. I need to rest. Be good children, Miss Munroe will be home soon,” she said quietly, nodding to Rogue.
“All right, now, you guys get on tah bed.”
“Goodnight, Miss Munroe,” came the chorus of familiar voice just before the receiver clicked.
“Rogue?”
Ororo noted Charles’ voice and looked away, allowing him to speak to her self-appointed sentinel as she toyed with the sleeve of Logan’s coat. He had left it by her bed in his haste to join the mission. She held it as close as she could, inhaling his scent from the tattered leather.
He was out there somewhere in the Rockies, avenging her. Of course she was flattered that he would go to such lengths, and she knew that she would have done the same for him. But she missed him. She wanted to see his face, to show him that she was alive.
“Goodnight, Professor.”
Rogue cradled the phone, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed, a slice of pizza in her hands.
“They’re on strict radio silence,” she explained. “Even the mental kind.”
Ororo sighed. “Goddess protect them all.”
The girl didn’t respond for a long time, munching on her pizza as Ororo received her nutrition via a catheter in her arm. She shifted on the bed, sighing again when she noted her bandages would need to be changed soon.
“He’s comin’, back,” Rogue assured her. “An’ when he does, he’ll have a few choice words for yah bout runnin’ off that way.”
“No,” she disagreed. “He’ll not mention it. He told me so.”
“Well, then. Allow me tah tell yah how stupid that was,” Rogue said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Yah almost died!”
“I know, darling one,” Ororo nodded. “And it will not happen again.”
Rogue narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are yah a magnet for bullets or somethin’?”
Shrugging slightly, Ororo pulled Logan’s coat closer, burying her nose in it. She could smell the cigar smoke and salty tang of his sweat. Goddess, she missed him. She wanted to hold him, to be held so much that it hurt. All of her loved ones were on a mission right now, one she could not follow them to.
“What’s that?”
Rogue leaned over her body, pulling two items from the bedspread. Ororo frowned at them, wondering where they had come from.
Taking them from Rogue, Ororo was surprised to note that one was a long strip of leather from her destroyed uniform. Possibly from where Logan had cut open her clothing to tend her gunshot wound. The worn edges told her he had had it since that day. Though why was a mystery.
The other was a thick cigar. Gasping, Ororo noted it as the one she had purchased for him on that shopping trip before Kitty went off to NYU, her second encounter with the Friends of Humanity. He had never smoked it.
“Came from his pocket,” Rogue said softly. “Mean somethin’ tah yah?”
Ororo nodded, tears stinging her eyes. “Yes. They mean something very dear to me, darling.”
“Yah love him, doncha?” Rogue asked, watching her closely.
She could only nod, wrapping his cigar in the worn bit of leather before slipping both back into his inside pocket and buttoning it closed. She wanted him to come home. She did not want to be in so much pain all alone. Yes, Rogue was there and that was a part of him, but this time it was not enough.
“How do yah know?” her companion asked gently.
Ororo smiled faintly, remembering that sly smile when he’d come upon her holding Tunza the first time, the playful way he had not wanted to admit where the dog had come from.
“It is difficult to describe, Rogue,” she said quietly, running her fingertips over a hole in his coat.
“When did yah know?”
She smiled. “That I can answer. I knew I loved him the moment he made me cry.”
Rogue rolled her eyes. “What?”
Looking up at the pristine ceiling, Ororo shifted slightly in her bed, trying to not get Logan’s coat wrapped up in her IV.
“No one has ever made me cry, Rogue. I have done so only five times in my life. Once, when my parents died, when I left New Orleans, and when we thought Jean had left us.”
She paused, inhaling the scent of Logan’s coat. “The second to last time was the night we brought Jean back to the mansion. Logan held me in his arms and told me to “Let it rain.”
“Aww,” the younger woman crooned.
“And the last time was the night Logan left after his nightmare. No one’s direct action had ever hurt me so. I knew then that I loved him.”
“That’s sweet, in a weird sorta way.”
“Rogue, my time with Logan does everything love is supposed to. And that is how I knew, it was.”
Her friend was quiet for a moment, picking at the sheets. Ororo watched her even as the door opened, revealing a nurse she had not seen before.
“Hello, Miss Munroe. It’s time for your pain medication,” she said cheerily.
“Oh, I did not know it was so late,” Ororo blushed, beckoning her closer.
“Ah thought they were movin’ her to the Surgical Ward before they gave her anythin’ more,” Rogue interjected, looking from Ororo to the nurse.
“There has been a change of plans.”
Warning bells sounded in her head. Gripping the nurse call button beneath Logan’s jacket, Ororo watched the portly nurse move to the IV unit, Rogue right beside her. Something was not right with this. The nurse was carefully concealing the syringe in her hands.
“Wait, that’s not...”
Rogue’s exclamation was cut off when the nurse turned on her with surprising speed, knocking her to the floor.
Pressing the call button quickly, Ororo grabbed the catheter in her arm and yanked it out, yelping against the pain. The nurse growled low in her throat, bearing down on Ororo with the needle, obviously intent on simply shoving it into her flesh.
But Rogue was not as weak as she appeared. The girl popped up onto her feet. With a karate yell, she slammed her forearm onto the nurse’s causing the needle to fall to the bed.
Taking the would-be murder weapon, Ororo placed it on the bedside table. The quick motion tore open at least one suture in her chest and pain wracked through her. Her back seemed to seize up as Rogue threw the attacker onto the floor and sat astride her, reeling back a fist and punching the woman solidly in the face.
The hospital room door flung open, revealing Erica and another nurse Ororo recognized.
“Help,” she gasped through the pain.
There was another stabbing pain as Erica screamed for a guard. The other nurse moved quickly to Ororo, hushing her and settling her back as she checked the now-crimson bandage on the bedridden woman’s chest.
Guards arrived a moment later, helping Rogue with the attacker and thanking her for protecting the patient. Ororo continued to gasp, clutching Logan’s coat as though it would anchor her as blackness overwhelmed her completely.
~@~
Ororo awoke with a start, shocked to find she was in her own bedroom. Fearing it was merely a telepathic attack, she turned to the bedside, surprised to find Jean speaking over something that looked like her medical chart with the doctor she had seen often in the Intensive Care Unit.
“Jean?” she gasped.
“There she is,” Jean grinned, coming over to her. “Welcome home.”
“How did I get here? Where is Rogue?” she demanded quickly.
“Doctor Sanz here thought you would be safer at home and had you transferred to a “private facility”,” Jean said with a small smile. “Rogue is speaking with the Professor.”
Wanting to believe she was safely at home, but unable to wrap her mind around the concept, Ororo shook her head, wanting to cry.
“It’s home, sweetie,” Jean said taking her hand. “I love you, dear, I’ll love you til the sky falls down and the clouds dance in the street…”
“I love you, dear,” Ororo continued, her voice cracking. “I’ll love you til the oceans wash over the earth and the waters lap at our feet.”
She was home. Looking to the kindly doctor, she smiled, squeezing Jean’s hand.
“You weren’t there when we took in little Jasmine,” Jean explained. “This is her mother.”
“Oh!” Ororo gasped, cringing when the gesture made her entire chest hurt. “I did not know you.”
Doctor Sanz walked over, taking her free hand as she sat on the bed opposite of Jean.
“Jasmine speaks of you so often, I made sure I was assigned to your case. Had I known there was an anti-mutant group after you, I would have moved you much sooner. I know Doctor Grey can care for you,” she explained with a fond smile.
“The nurse?” Ororo croaked.
Jean lifted a glass of cool water to her lips. A small sip preceded a large gulp as the icy fluid soothed her throat.
“A Friend of Humanity,” Sanz spat. “She is in the hospital now. Your young friend broke her jaw.”
Ororo smiled. “Logan will be proud.”
The two women chuckled at her quip. Jean smoothed her sheets as Doctor Sanz explained the extent of her reopened injuries.
Luckily, her spinal cord’s swelling had not flared again, though she had managed to tear a suture there as well as three in the highest wound in her chest. Ororo was to be bedridden for at least another week. It would be months before she was allowed back to full X-Men duty, perhaps even a year. The knowledge hurt Ororo deeply, mainly because it was her fault for leaving the mansion in the first place.
Rogue had broken a finger during the fight and would wear a splint for a few weeks. Both Jean and Sanz seemed rather proud of the girl for protecting Ororo during the would-be assassination.
“Oh and I brought this. Your “fiancée” left this on the IV stand,” Sanz said before taking her leave, handing Ororo her lightning bolt necklace.
She took it, waving goodbye to the kind doctor. When she opened her hand to look at the gift from her lover, she noted it was stained with blood. The realization of all that had happened finally hit her.
“Goddess...” she broke into harsh sobs even as the heavens opened up, spilling heavy rain onto the world.
Jean was at her side in a moment, wrapping her arms around her friend as best she could. Ororo sobbed her heart out, letting herself drown in the pain. Logan was hundreds of miles away and she had nearly died. Twice. She would be confined to a bed for weeks, if not months simply because she was a mutant whom refused to listen to good advice.
“Jean...so afraid,” she whimpered into her friend’s shoulder.
“I know,” Jean’s voice betrayed her own tears. “I know, sweetie. Go on and cry.”
The sounds of her sobbing tears ripped through the otherwise quiet room for nearly an hour, until Jean’s white lab coat was sopping and she had nothing left in her to cry. The rain sloshed against the window, covering the grounds of Xavier’s school with Ororo’s tears.
When she finally lacked the strength to even move, she allowed Jean to lay her against the pillows and tuck her in as though she were a child. Jean took the necklace, but handed her Logan’s coat, and one of his cigars from the case he’d left in his pocket.
Something akin to a hospital room had been set up in her bedroom, complete with monitoring equipment. Looking to the clock on her chest of drawers, Ororo noted it was three in the afternoon.
Logan had been gone nearly twenty-four hours.
“Has there been any news?” she asked Jean in a tired voice.
Jean shook her head from the IV stand. “No.”
“Goddess above.”
“He’ll come home, Ororo. And he’ll bring everyone with him.”
Somehow, Ororo could hear the hope in Jean’s voice and drew strength from that, even as the heavens wept for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Reckoning by Gaineewop
Chapter Twenty-Four: Reckoning
What ravages of spirit
Conjured this tempestuous rage
Created you a monster
Broken by the rules of love
~Sarah McLachlan
He shouldn’t have left her.
He sat in the jet beside One-Eye, co-piloting as Iceman, Beast, and Colossus readied themselves in the back of the jet. It was the third run they’d made of refugees, settling them at other mutant havens throughout the Rockies, most of which were better protected than one Friends of Humanity had targeted.
Hours spent locating and relocating terrified mutants had only pushed his rage closer to the surface. All of this and not a single fight. It was wearing on his nerves.
They had maintained a strict radio and telepathic silence through the entire mission. Mystique’s brief communiqué had warned that they had a telepath working for them. While not adept, they would be scanning for the X-Men, especially as they thought Storm was dead. They expected vengeance.
Cyclops had kept Wolverine on a tight leash, his “no-killing” policy in effect even after he’d witnessed the devastating wounds Ororo had suffered at the hands of malicious bastards.
Mystique had joined them after the last run, slipping onto the jet while disguised as Iceman. When Bobby had come face to face with his double, he’d nearly been scared out of ice. Logan hadn’t thought it was very funny. Mystique took his threats with a roll of her eerie yellow eyes.
They were heading back to Mutant Haven to look for more “refugees”, though the others had said there were no more.
Logan knew what they were after. Cyclops may not have wanted to kill Ororo’s attacker, but he definitely wanted a word with him.
When they were at a safe altitude, Cyclops flipped on the autopilot and turned to Mystique.
“You’re on, Mystique. Where are they?”
The blue mutant activated their holo-map quickly, her eyes on Wolverine the entire time. Logan wanted to gut her for daring to still have the hint of arousal on her scent whenever she looked at him. Did she not understand him during their last meeting almost a year ago?
“They’ve holed up in a cave just to the north of the camp,” she said in that hollow echo her voice adopted while in her natural form.
“Why?”
“They believe that with Storm dead,” she said the word carefully, judging Logan’s reaction. “That the X-Men will come to the camp to find them.”
“How do they know we’re on to them?” Peter asked in his deep baritone.
“I told them,” she shrugged. “I thought it would scare them into delaying at least a little while. Instead, they went after Storm.”
“I wonder how they even knew she was even out of the mansion,” Scott mused, staring at the map.
“Do you really not know?” Mystique asked, clearly surprised.
The men shook their heads. She rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Gonna clue us in, Mysty?” Wolverine growled, irritated with how calmly she was taking the whole thing.
“You have a mole, a student, I think. They referred to him as “the kid” constantly,” she offered. “My personal belief is that it’s the boy Storm and Wolverine picked up in Chicago a few months ago.”
The entire group stood, looking at the metamorph in complete shock. Logan felt his fury rising. There was no way that Jeffrey would ever betray the X-Men. He was student, he doted on Ororo, he was always eager for her classes…
“Holy shit,” Wolverine looked to Scott. “Jeff was in ‘Ro’s class the other mornin’, when she got the flowers.”
Scott shook his head. “Come on, Logan. Jeffery? A spy?”
Bobby took a step into the group. “Wait…”
He looked to Peter. The older boy nodded sadly, looking to their leaders.
“Several weeks ago, Iceman and I were on our way to the Danger Room when we heard Jeffrey on the phone. He mentioned something to the other person about Storm,” Peter’s slow speech made Logan want to claw something.
“We asked why he was telling someone about Storm and Wolverine’s…erm…change in relationship,” Bobby said as delicately as he could. “And he said he was telling his father, as his father was always interested in Storm.”
Scott snapped his fingers. “It’s not Jeffrey, it’s his father.”
Logan thought back to the telephone call Storm had received. He had been able to hear the other voice, the subtle change in pitch when it spoke to Ororo. Hadn’t that seemed vaguely familiar?
“Bobby, when you answered the phone the other night, did that voice sound familiar?”
Iceman paused, thinking back on it. “Yeah, it did, actually. Holy shit!”
Mystique was patiently waiting for them to finish their mystery solving, but broke in at that point, her eyes on Bobby.
“What did it sound like?”
“Raspy, sort of deep, but it was altered. Like he was trying to mask it,” Bobby answered immediately.
“And what does this boy’s father look like?”
Logan took that one. “6’1”, 240lbs, hair a shade lighter than Slim’s, eyes like mine, big chin, archaic nose, left ear slightly higher than the right. Weak right knee, but looks like he can handle himself in a fight.”
Mystique’s body seemed to melt, the familiar squishing sound of her…scales echoing in the room. When she was finished, she spoke, her voice altered to match that of Jeffrey’s father.
“Like this?”
Wolverine nodded, claws biting into the inside of his hands, begging to slice the image to pieces, though he knew it was Mystique. Hell, it was just an excuse to hit something.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
Mystique transformed back into her blue scaly self, touching the control panel for the holo-map. A dossier and photograph appeared above the map.
“Charles Stevenson,” she indicated to the photograph. “He’s one of the higher ups in the FoH chain of command. In fact, he’s leading the task force for the Haven raid.”
“Let me guess, he’s the loudest voice against Storm and her gifts?” Scott offered with a sardonic smile.
“Yes,” Mystique said frankly, pushing another button on the controls. “This is his son, Jacob.”
The photograph and dossier appeared beside the other and Logan’s teeth ground together. It was the kid Ororo had fingered as the attacker in the woods and the mall parking lot. Things were starting to make sense, finally.
“My turn,” Henry said from his seat. “The son was with you during the “attack” on the Stevenson home?”
“Yes,” the metamorph nodded once.
“And Jeffrey is his son, but used to locate mutant hideouts.”
“Yes.”
“And you know exactly where they are.”
Mystique rewarded Scott with one of her sly smiles and that strange sway to her lithe body, as though she was turned on by all of the talk of secrets and spy games.
“Of course.”
“Good,” Scott said, turning back to the controls. “Give me the location.”
Wolverine grinned at Mystique, cracking the knuckles of his hands slowly, deliberately.
He was going to get into a fight after all.
~@~
They landed just a mile south of the encampment, opening the ramp and leaving the jet in a tight formation. Mystique had insisted on coming along, saying her beloved Erik wanted files from Stevenson regarding how much the Friends knew about mutant locations.
Cyclops went along with it, mainly because he wanted the information for the Professor. Logan was almost amused by how much the Brotherhood and the X-Men echoed one another. The only difference was how far each team was willing to go to achieve mutant freedom.
It had been forty-four hours since Ororo’s accident. Had she woken? Was she still there, waiting for him to come home? Or had she slipped away some time during the night?
He tried to not think of that option. She was in the hospital, waiting for him. Perhaps she would wake when he spoke to her this time. He would give the world to see her eyes open, a small smile upon her lovely lips. Anything.
Logan missed her and he had regretted the decision to join the mission every time he thought about her limp body on the hospital bed, a tube in her throat to breathe for her. The sad fact was that he did not trust anyone else to do this. He had to be here.
The group slipped into one of the caves, following Mystique whom walked through the tunnels as though she could find her way blindfolded, deaf, and without the use of her legs. She kept a close distance with the rest of them, seemingly not wanting to be out of range.
Cyclops motioned for Logan to take position behind her, Iceman in the middle beside him and Colossus with Beast in the back. The tunnel was barely wide enough for them all to walk side by side, leaving them very little fighting room.
Mystique pulled up to a halt, snapping to get Logan’s attention. She pointed to a fork in the tunnel and then to his ears.
Catching her drift, Wolverine concentrated as best he could on his hearing. Light footsteps to the east, water dripping to the north. He shot a look to Mystique and she mouthed a single word.
Water.
Nodding, he pointed to the tunnel toward the north. She nodded and resumed her walking, quickly changing her shape into that of a female guard. Logan shook his head to clear it. Hanging out with Mystique was a constant source of headache.
Too bad she was so damn good at what she did.
Testing the air with his sensitive nose every few minutes, Logan and the X-Men followed their shape shifting guard toward wherever it was they were going.
He smelled a few human scents, but nothing familiar. There was a scent of cleansers, as though there was an infirmary or laboratory nearby. Mystique held her hand up to halt them all and rounded a corner alone.
Five seconds later, they heard muffled cries of surprise and then two bodies hitting the floor. Wolverine peered around the corner. She stood above two guards, their necks quite obviously broken and crooked a finger at him seductively.
Wolverine turned to Cyclops.
“She doesn’t leave me alone, I’m gonna stab her again and I’ll enjoy it.”
One-Eye had the nerve to smirk. “I won’t tell Storm.”
They followed Mystique around the corner. Logan noted the walls were changing from jagged rock to smoothed to cool metal. The scent of gunpowder and explosives assaulted his nostrils as they came to another juncture.
Mystique turned to them.
“Wolverine and I will take the southern corridor. Cyclops and Colossus should take the north. Iceman and Beast go east.”
“Why?” Cyclops asked, obviously not wanting to split up.
“There is a small holding area for mutants in the northern section. When I was there several hours ago, they had four mutants captive. To the east is the biggest cache of weaponry the Friends have, it should be destroyed. And the files I need are to the south.”
Before Cyclops could interject, Wolverine agreed. “Yeah, split up and meet back at the jet in an hour.”
One look to Scott told Logan all he needed to know. Mystique was taking him to Stevenson and getting Cyclops out of the way so as to not sully his lily-white hands. And Scott knew it.
“Fine, split up. Break radio silence only if something goes to hell. Got it?”
The others nodded as they broke into their respective teams, heading down one hallway or another. Cyclops maintained eye contact with Wolverine until they were completely out of one another’s eye line.
Once he was alone with Mystique, he turned to her with a growl. “You get me to Stevenson and I’ll forget you’re the one that shot Storm.”
She shrugged, swaying her backside enticingly. “What does she have that I don’t?”
“Class,” Wolverine bit off, keeping his eyes and ears trained on their surroundings.
The entire tunnel was encased in what looked like bomb-proofed metals, complete with thick insulation, making it hard for his ears to pick up anything coming toward them. It unnerved him. This entire facility had been built some time ago, right under the noses of the mutants five miles down the mountain. They could have taken the encampment out at any time.
He figured Mystique was to thank for that. She had probably led the entire organization around by the nose for months.
“Down,” he said as he caught a whiff of someone on the air.
Mystique melted against the wall as an older guard with a machine gun at the ready came around the corner. He stared in shock as Wolverine unleashed his claws.
Snikt!
The guard was dead before he could fire a shot. Wolverine was starting to feel better already as he retracted his claws from the man’s back.
Mystique continued on.
“Light on guards,” he commented with a grunt.
“Overconfident,” she replied in her eerie voice. “We’re almost to the meeting room. There will be plenty for you to kill while I download from Stevenson’s main computer.”
“Good.”
They walked together in silence, taking out four more guards, whom had hidden in alcoves just to the sides of an enormous door.
“Why do they think hiding like that is gonna protect them?” he asked, tossing a body aside.
“Reminds them of the womb,” she supplied, transforming into Stevenson again.
“Ready?”
Logan grunted. Mystique placed her hand on the control panel, which buzzed loudly in the otherwise silent room.
Wolverine took position beside the door as Mystique entered. He could smell at least a dozen guards inside…and one faintly familiar scent from days at the mansion.
Stevenson.
Snikt.
He claws ripped through his skin as surprised shouts sounded from within, combined with the squishing noise that told him Mystique had changed forms.
Darting inside the room with a feral howl, Logan turned and rammed his claws into the door’s controls, closing it with a loud hiss as he took in the scene.
A dozen men in various types of uniforms were around a table, most of them reaching for firearms over the table, which was littered with files and photos. To his astonishment, he noted one of Ororo’s car…and her lifeless body within.
They had tried to murder her and then photographed it.
Wolverine finally allowed the howling beast within to surface, screaming with rage as he leaped onto the table, claws flashing. He lost track of Mystique as he used one man for a shield, neatly catching every bullet sent his way before turning and sinking his claws into the nearest bastard he could see.
The scent of blood overwhelmed him. These were the ones that hurt his Ororo…his mate. He snarled, turning from the dead man at his feet to the next, cleaning slipping his claws into the man’s chest cavity, watching with a sort of muted pleasure when blood spurted from his mouth.
“Picked the wrong girl, bub,” he said, echoing his words from the attack on the mansion.
Two more tried to rush him, only to be met with three adamantium death warrants each. One to the face. One to the neck. Blood was everywhere.
Just as Ororo’s had been all over her car.
Turning quickly, he dimly noted Mystique taking down two of her own near the large computer set up and smirked.
The cold barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. Breathing hard, Wolverine turned his eyes to the firearm, grinning manically when he noted the kid behind the gun.
“Been lookin’ for you, bub,” he growled.
“Thought so,” the kid smirked. “Did it take her a long time to die, I wonder? Five bullets and she still thought she had a chance.”
Wolverine saw red. “You miss the meetin’? She’s alive.”
Jacob’s eyes registered shock for a moment. “She can’t be.”
“She is. And I’m here to see she gets her revenge,” he turned his body, pressing his head against the barrel of the gun, daring Jacob to pull the trigger.
“Not for long,” he countered, seemingly finding his strength.
“You pulled the trigger?”
“Yeah, I did. Stupid slut didn’t know what hit her.”
Wolverine flicked a wrist, burying his claws into the kid’s stomach with an enraged growl. His eyes went wide, looking from Wolverine’s face to the fist at his gut. Slowly, Logan pushed the other set of claws into his chest.
“She’s mine. You won’t hurt her again,” Wolverine snarled.
Faster than the kid could register, Logan pulled his hands together, ripping the mutant hater apart. He died instantly, falling to the ground as his shredded entrails snagged on Wolverine’s claws.
Watching the body slump over, Wolverine felt the grim satisfaction of revenge.
He was breathing hard as he looked about the devastated conference room. Blood soaked the walls, floor, and table, bodies over everything. Mystique was on top of the table, in her natural form, weaving her long legs through the bodies as she walked to him.
“Nice work,” she told him, showing him four disks. “I’ve got what I came for.”
“Where’s Stevenson?” he snarled in return.
The blue mutant nodded her head, indicating to a gasping figure on the floor near the computers. He was the only breathing Friend in the room.
“He came for me, I left him alive…as a gift,” Mystique said almost sweetly.
Without pause, Wolverine stomped over to the older bastard. He’d broken several bones during his fight with the metamorph. Crouching low, claws still dripping with his son’s blood, he snarled at the older man.
“What did ya have against her that was so fuckin’ bad?” he growled.
Fear registered in Stevenson’s eyes. Logan could smell it on him, with the stench of urine and blood.
“Too powerful…will betray…all…” he gasped.
“Ya don’t know her, bub. She protects sick fucks like you,” Wolverine dragged his claws over the man’s chest.
“Jacob?”
“Killed him. And I enjoyed it.”
Stevenson began to sob. Sighing, Wolverine pulled his claws back. It would be merciful of him to just end his life here and now.
“Go to hell,” Wolverine growled a beat before he sank twenty-seven inches of razor sharp adamantium into the dying man’s breast.
The erratic breathing stopped immediately.
“We should go,” Mystique called to him. “Your team will be looking for us.”
Wolverine retracted his claws with a grating snikt.
“Yeah, I got what I came for.”
“And what was that?”
Logan looked at his bloodstained hands.
“A reckoning.”
~@~
No one said a word when Wolverine and Mystique met them at the jet. Beast held a detonator in his hand, Iceman looked a little more than exhausted, and Colossus was as stoic as ever.
The blood on Wolverine’s uniform seemed to go unnoticed.
Cyclops did not ask as they strapped in. Wolverine noted three new mutants, all with various injuries, strapped into the jet as they lifted off. Beast tended to their injuries, pausing only to click the detonator,
A muted explosion sounded from below as the weapons cache and what seemed to be the rest of the base was destroyed as dawn broke over the Rockies.
“It’s not over, but they’ve been wounded,” Peter said, reminding Logan of Kurt all of the sudden.
Logan grunted, settling back in his seat.
They all lapsed into silence, broken only when they dropped Mystique near her rendezvous point with Magneto.
“Thank you,” she said curtly.
She handed Cyclops two of her disks. “Everything Stevenson had. I made equal copies.”
“How do I know that?” Scott asked, tucking the disks into his pocket.
“A gesture of good faith, for having to shoot Storm.”
And with that, she was gone.
“God, she’s complicated. Good, but complicated,” Bobby said when they were airborne again.
“I wouldn’t mention that to Rogue,” Logan quipped.
The remainder of the trip was spent in silence. What would greet them upon returning? What would they do about Jeffrey? Wolverine had killed his brother and father in cold blood. He would admit it to the boy; get his side of things before taking drastic measures.
Jacob had at least been an adult and fully aware of what he was doing.
As they reached communication range with the mansion, Jean’s voice came over the comm., startling them all from their seats.
“Scott?”
Cyclops flicked a switch. “We’re here. All alive and heavy three.”
There was a sigh of relief. “Logan?”
“Yeah?” he paused, swallowing hard, expecting the worst.
“She’s awake.”
~@~
Logan would have to thank Jean for keeping spare clothing on the jet. He changed into one of the sweat suits they always kept, embossed with an ‘X’ and cleaned his hands as best he could with some of the alcohol Beast gave him from the med-kit.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have shoes, but it really wasn’t an issue. The issue was why the jet didn’t go faster.
They landed at twenty past one in the afternoon. Nearly three days had passed since Ororo’s accident. Cheering children cleared the basketball court as the jet prepared to land. The entire group was exhausted; spending days running refugees and dodging terrorists had that effect on someone.
Scott lowered the ramp before he cut the engine, giving Logan his cue to tear ass through the mansion in search of his girl.
And that’s exactly what he did.
He knew that the others were following, albeit at a lesser degree. Most would need a trip to the infirmary for minor wounds before they could go upstairs and pass out on their beds. He figured they knew it was pointless to try to see Ororo. Logan would be dominating her time for the next few hours.
Logan slid into the elevator, bouncing up and down on his feet until it reached the mansion’s main level.
“Mr. Logan!”
He waved off a few of the children that greeted him, barreling up the stairs toward the teacher’s level as though all the demons of hell were snapping at his heels. In some ways, they were. Darkness would consume him and only ‘Ro was strong enough to beat it all back.
Jean was outside of Ororo’s bedroom when he approached. She looked up at him, flashing a fond smile that told him all he really needed to know from a medical standpoint. Breathing hard, he slowed his advance, coming around the corner to look into her room as though in slow motion.
The scent of fallen rain slammed into him with the weight of a hurricane-force wind. No more blood, only the earthy smell that was all hers coupled with that of fresh flowers and a lovable pooch.
Standing in the doorway, Logan felt tears sting his eyes and blinked them back furiously. Ororo was propped up on her headboard, just slightly. Her hair was clean and she wore one of his flannel shirts. She was smiling at Rogue as the younger girl sat beside her, spooning what smelled like beef broth into Ororo’s mouth with almost motherly care.
She still had a needle in her arm, but there was color to her cheeks. Her lips once more plump, though a little dry. The monitors beeped with the steady thrum of her heart.
Without a word, Logan took a barefoot step into the room, wanting to just hold her until the world came down around their ears. Rogue looked up at him and grinned.
“Hiya, Logan.”
Of course, she was a smart girl. She placed the bowl of broth on the rolling tray beside the bed and stood, giving Ororo’s hand a squeeze as Logan tiptoed closer. Tunza was at the foot of the bed, his head on his mistress’ leg, tail wagging just slightly in greeting.
“Hello, stranger,” Ororo greeted him as he approached.
“Hey, darlin’,” his breath caught as he gazed into those beautiful eyes.
She was smiling.
“Come here, my Logan.”
Rushing the last few steps to her bed, Logan fell to his knees as the bedroom door closed. They were alone when he took her hand, leaning up to kiss her warm lips, which weakly pushed back at him.
“You’re awake,” he breathed, noting tears in her eyes.
“Yes. And I intend to stay that way.”
Logan gently placed his ear to her chest, mindful of the injuries she had sustained. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes, listening to the strong beat of her heart.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.