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.
[Reviews - 100]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Has been viewed 10746 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | - Text Size +
You must login () to review.
