Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel. I don’t own them, wish I did, because they would have the life they deserve…but alas…life can be cruel… :)



The Winds of Change




He smelled her before he saw her.
Over the other scents of the bar- the alcohol, the sweat, the vomit and urine- came the scent of freshly fallen rain with a hint of flowers and earth. He would know that scent anywhere, it was as unique and distinctive as it’s owner. She took the barstool directly to his left. She looked as beautiful and exotic as ever, her slender, well-built form clad in a pink camisole and tan khakis.
“Evn’ing, ‘Ro.” He took a long swig from his beer, before slamming the empty bottle onto the hard surface of the bar. “What brings the weather goddess slumin’?”
One delicate eyebrow rose in response to the edge his graveled voice held. “I came to see you, my friend. “ Her cerulean blue eyes held his. “After the scene back at the mansion I thought you could use some company. If I was mistaken I shall leave.” Though she said it, she made no move to do so, instead indicating to the bar tender she would like a drink.
After the middle aged, balding bar tender had left, leaving a water and another beer he turned toward her with a scowl. “That scene happened four hours ago.”
“Yes. I knew you would need some time to cool off before you would wish to speak with anyone, Logan. I decided it best to wait until I was relatively certain most of the steam had worn away.” Her elegant throat flexed as she swallowed from her glass.
Despite his foul mood Wolverine felt his lips twitch. How well she knew and understood him. She was absolutely correct. A few hours ago he wouldn’t have tolerated anyone’s company. He looked away from her intense gaze and surveyed their surroundings. The faint yellow lights overhead cast shadows around the bar, giving it a dangerous feel. In far back corner a jukebox was playing an old Zeppelin song, to the right of them were a collection of four pool tables, only one of which was in use, and overhead a neon sign blinked ‘Prize Fights! Every Friday at 10!’.
“Do you frequent this establishment often?” Ororo asked, her gaze following his.
Logan gave a curt nod. Yep, this was his kinda place. Dark and moody, full of roughnecks, truckers and motorcyclists. He took a deep drink from his bottle, nearly finishing it in one drink. “I come here when I need a break from the sunshine and rainbows crowd.” He gave her a look. “Not yer kinda place, eh?”
She shrugged one elegant shoulder. Even here, Ororo held herself in such a way that Logan had never seen anyone else pull off. Proud, defiant, feminine and noble all at the same time. “Oh, I would not be too certain of that. You forget, old friend, I have had my share of wild adventures. Yuiko made certain of that.”
“Ah, yes, the mighty warrior woman. Tell me, ‘Ro, what did she tech ya?” his tone was mocking.
Ororo glanced at him, seemingly unfazed by his tone. “Yuiko taught me that there were many sides to myself. That I have undiscovered layers within yet to explore.”
“Hnh.”
With that they fell into a comfortable silence. It had always been this way between them, never needing to chat, trying to fill he empty space with even emptier words. Instead they sat, at ease in each other’s presence. She knew him better than anyone- knew his secrets, knew his rage and the battle he waged within, yet she never shied away from him. Never fled from his anger, never flinched at his bare fangs, never turned away in the face of his feral snarls. Ororo had always accepted him as he was, the good and the bad. He was going to miss that.
“So, yer really gonna leave?” he asked suddenly breaking their silence. “ takin’ off with that gumbo-chewin’ cajun?”
Ororo sighed softly resting her chin into the palm of her hand. She regarded him quietly for a moment before answering. “I have to. Remy has some unfinished business and he needs my help. He and I have an understanding, Logan, we have an oath.”
Logan growled low in his throat. “You were a kid, ‘Ro!”
“That is not entirely true.” She swiveled on her stool so that she was facing him directly. “Despite what you may think, Remy is not taking advantage of me. I know what I am doing, I know the risks, I am aware of the consequences. As I said earlier, no one but me is responsible for my fate.” Her eyes held his. “No one.”
“So, yer willin’ to go back to theivin’ just to keep his ass outta trouble?” Another swig of beer. “Don’t seem right, ‘Ro.” He turned his back to her, shoulders stiff. He knew he was being ridiculous, that he had no right to tell her what was acceptable and what wasn’t. he knew she would never scorn him in such a way, but ever since he heard she was leaving he was feeling angry, frustrated and--alone.
He felt her hand on his shoulder gentle and firm. Like her. “Logan, I will be back.”
He shrugged his muscular frame, shaking off her hand. “Makes no difference to me, Storm. Do whatchya want.” He heard her breath catch and he knew that he had hurt her. He felt her brief hesitation before she rose.
“ I will miss you, my friend. You shall remain in my thoughts and in my heart.”
Logan felt his chest tighten painfully. “You are my heart“, he whispered to no one. Damn, why hadn’t he told her? Why was he letting her leave without telling her how much she has come to mean to him? How his feelings of friendship were morphing into something more. How her unconditional acceptance of him, through his trials with Jean and his exploring his violent and shady past, has meant more to him than anything. He looked at the still swinging door that she had left through. Her scent was still close, he could catch her if he left right now.
“Bartender! Another beer!”



End Chapter One, to be continued…

Disclaimer: Still don’t own them, still wish I did… Have fun reading!


Chapter two:
A PIECE OF ADVICE


“Raaurgh!” The sound of shredding metal and snaps from broken electrical wires filled the Danger Room as opponent after opponent fell before the adamantium onslaught. Wolverine stood, electrical entrails dangling from his razor sharp claws, chest heaving, body gleaming with a fine sheen of perspiration, his face a dark scowl. “C’mon, is that all ya got!” His graveled voice hung in the air. He was angry. Angrier than he’d been in a while. Two months! She’d been gone two months and not a word. No letter, not a phone call, not even a damn e-mail, not that he used a computer anyway, but that wasn’t the friggin’ point. He growled and cut his mechanical opponent wide open.
“Geez, shugah. You gonna leave anything for us to play with?” Wolverine’s friend and fellow X-Man asked as she plowed through two of their android opposition. Despite her delicate features and southern belle drawl, Rogue was as tough as they came. Her dark brows drew together and she planted her fist firmly into the metal skull of the android attempting to rise. “Ya seem a bit…ugh…intense,” she grunted, tearing the head off the clearly defeated bot.
Wolverine raised a brow. “And I’m intense?”
Before she could respond a beam of pure red energy sent her flying into the far wall with a zing and thwap. “On your toes, People. This is a training exercise. Not a play date!”
“Aw, c’mon, Slim,” Wolverine bared his teeth. “Dontchya wanna play tag?” He gestured with his claws.
Scott Summers, leader of he X-men, was not easily intimidated and Logan was catching him on a bad day. He and Jean had been arguing again, and his temper was dangerously close to the surface. “All right, let’s play. Computer, end program. Run training session eighteen- partner me with…Storm.”
The illusionary, interactive environment of the Danger Room blurred and where their had once been the layout of an empty warehouse, the scenery changed into a lush forest complete with animals and natural smells. A visage of Storm appeared and simulated thunder shook the room.
“Figures.” Wolverine grumbled.
“Ah got Cyke,” Rogue said as she flew past him, her dark brown hair blowing behind her. “Ah owe him fer that cheap shot, you take Storm.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go team.” Wolverine crouched, running fast and low in the direction the simulated Storm had flown off. The Danger Room opponents were fast and deadly, as close to the real thing as you could get. Each member of the team, as well as several of their enemies traits had been uploaded into the system, making the training sessions as real and as accurate as possible. Often this gave the X-Men a tactical edge in battle, but made for some hard sessions. Wolverine had faced the computer generated Storm countless times over the years, even squared off against himself from time to time, but he had not faced her since he discovered his feelings ran deeper than he cared to admit.
Crouching, still as a stone, he listened for any movement. Storm was one of the stronger and more dangerous simulations, and he was taking no chances. He’d wait her out.
He didn’t have to wait long. The Storm-opponent was directly overhead. “Come to Papa!” He lunged, but she quickly whirled to her left, unleashing an electric bolt directly at him. Wolverine tucked and rolled. His speed and agility made him a very difficult target to hit with her lightening bolts, but the simulated Storm wasn’t out of ideas yet. The wind accelerated, forming a small funnel over head, lifting him off the ground and knocking him on his ass. She threw another bolt of electricity at him, but again he easily dodged the hit and grabbed one of her long, outstretched legs. He gave a hard yank and she came tumbling to the ground. The Storm-opponent glared up at him from her back. Although her eyes were as defiant as the real Ororo’s they were not nearly as bright, nor as engaging. Wolverine drew back *snikt* and faltered. He couldn’t do it. He knew this was only a simulation-- hell the damn thing didn’t even smell like ‘Ro, but he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to slash those goddess-like features, to harm her in any way.
“Son of a-” He drove his claws into the soil just beside her head. “Tag.” The simulation shimmered and her image faded, leaving instead the shell of the droid duplicate. Wolverine quickly rose to his feet and headed for the door. He listened for a moment catching the sounds of Cyke’s optic blasts and Rogue’s unladylike cussing, before snatching up his towel and duffle. “I need a beer.”

{Several hours later}

“Thought I’d find you out here.”
Logan turned away from the railing and faced the woman he had once believed to be the love of his life. Her fiery red hair was piled neatly atop her head and she wore a dark sweater and jeans. “Jeannie.”
“You seem a million miles away. Care to talk about it?” She leaned against the railing next to him.
“Not particularly.” His eyes slid over her curves in the same lazy way they always did, but they reflected no interest, no animal lust, merely male appreciation for a truly beautiful specimen.
“A word of advice then.” Her gaze lifted to the stars, a faraway look in her eyes as well.
“Shoot, Red.”
“She’ll never know unless you tell her.”
Logan gave her a startled look. She tapped her forehead. “You’re projecting. Rather loudly I might add.” Her tone was mild but he could smell the tension that shimmered around her like a second skin.
“Red?”
Jean shrugged, her eyes still on the sky. “I can still feel it you know.”
“What?”
“The awesome power of the cosmos. Creation…Destruction. At my fingertips. I lie awake at night and try not to think of what it felt like. The power, the lust, the absoluteness of it all. You helped me through that time Logan. You and Storm and… Scott.” She hugged herself tighter. “I can feel him slipping away. He’s been so strong, such a constant. Never letting me fall, always with me. My best friend, you know?” She finally turned and looked at him. “My greatest love. And I feel him slipping away from me. Don’t let that happen to you, Logan. I can sense your true feelings, have for a while. But she can’t. You need to let her know, or you’ll lose Ororo forever. Like I am afraid I am losing Scott.” She touched his grizzled cheek. Her green gaze warm and tender. “She deserves to be loved, Logan. As do you. Good night.”

To be continued…

New Orleans, Louisiana
Bourbon Street
Mardi Gras


“Aahhh…Smell dat, chere? Ain’t nattin’ smell like New Orleans,” Gambit held his arms wide, turning in a circle, inhaling the welcome scents of his home city. “It’s good t’be back, eh, Stormy?” He and Storm were walking around the city, enjoying the festivities, and the memories that being in this place brought to them both.
Ororo Munroe gave her tall, handsome companion a patient smile. “I have warned you before about calling me that horrid name.” She gracefully stepped around a couple leaning against a lamp post, in heated ‘conversation’.
“But you will always be Stormy to me, padnat.” He gave her long cloud colored braid a playful tug.
“Gambit.” Ororo’s eyes faded from deep cerulean blue to electric white in silent warning, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.
“Hoo, I sure ‘ave missed that spark in you, Stormy. Been too long since I seen it. You always so serious back at Xavier’s. Makes me regret ever bringing you back, seeing you shut yerself off. Been too long since we had any time for us,chere. Gambit misses his padnat.” He wrapped one brawny arm across her bare shoulders, pulling her close and jostling her. “We had some fun, oui?”
Ororo felt her lips twitch. “Yes, Remy. We had some wonderful times, but I do not believe you have brought me all the way to New Orleans just to relive old times. Time for the truth, Remy. What exactly have you gotten me into?”
They had reached an open restaurant and Gambit lead her towards the nearest patio table, pulling out her chair and seating himself across from her. “Merci,” she murmured causing him to fling a hand over his heart dramatically.
“To ‘ear my language brush across those beautiful,” his tone deepened, “luscious lips. Take care, chere. I may ‘ave a ‘eart attack before we get to discussing the matters at hand.”
“Flirt,” she chided, blushing. Absently she caressed the lilting carnation setting between them. To Gambit the flower appeared to gain strength from her touch, seemed less wilted-- brighter somehow. “I am waiting.” She was staring at him with those eyes that seemed to peer into your soul. He was grateful for the shield his sunglasses gave him against her close scrutiny.
“Truth is I owe some people, big, Stormy. Real big. And des are bad people. Real bad.”
“Who are these bad people, Remy? And what is it they want from you?”
Gambit shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had never lied to Storm and if he could avoid it he wouldn’t start now, but the truth…the truth was complicated. He was saved from having to answer as a petite waitress approached, a wide grin on her face. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties, with golden hair and wide hazel eyes. Her lips were thin, and she had a tendency to chew on them, Remy recalled.
“Remy Lebeau, you dog. When did you get back?” Her voice was high and light. Her smile vanished when she noticed the woman Remy was dining with. High cheekbones, wide, lush lips, caramel skin, and the most amazing eyes, framed by long raven black lashes, which made no sense because her hair was as white as freshly fallen snow. “Haven’t seen you in years,” she trailed still staring at Storm.
“Yeah, well you know me, keeping’ busy.” He gave a nod in Storm’s direction. “Dis is my fiancé, Ororo.” He ignored the stunned expression of the waitress and the more dumbfounded look Stormy was giving him. He placed his hand discreetly over her left hand across the table. “Chere, dis is an old acquaintance of mine…” Gambit paused and for the life of him he couldn’t put a name to the face.
“Meggan Murphy.” the waitress supplied, her back stiffening.
“It is always a pleasure to meet a friend of Remy’s,” Storm said. She squeezed his hand, sending a subtle electric current up his arm.
“Same here.” Meggan pulled out her notepad. “What can I get you lovebirds?”
“What say you, Chere?” Gambit lifted Ororo’s hand to his lips. “What’re you in da mood for?” He kissed each finger lazily, and flicked his tongue across her thumb. He almost lost it at Storm’s expression. Her eyes were flashing, and her brows were so furrowed they created lines across her smooth forehead.
“I will leave the decision in your capable hands, Remy.” She pulled her hand away and stood. “If you will excuse me, I must make a phone call.” As she rounded the corner to the payphone she had seen when they were walking down the street earlier she sent a small rain cloud across the patio and over Gambit’s head. She chuckled at his facial expression when the first drops of rain hit his dark red/brown hair.
Cradling the phone in her hand she sent a small current through the receiver, giving her a dial tone. Her index finger hovered over the first digit of the number she was about to dial. “Get a hold of yourself, woman.” She sighed. Goddess, how she missed him. She pictured his dark eyes and felt her heart lurch. Deep down she had hoped this time away would clear her head and help sort out the confusing emotions she had been feeling lately. Control was of the utmost importance to her. She knew at times it made her seem cold-- indifferent to the events around her. But when the slightest shift in your mood can turn a sunny day into an F-5 tornado, you learn to keep yourself in check. Under normal circumstances Logan’s presence comforted her, kept her calm and sane, but lately she found herself restless under his intense gaze. Flushed whenever he would press a little too close. Just a few months ago she had nearly taken out the mansion during their heated argument over her position as leader of the X-men and her loyalty to Gambit. Ororo punched the numbers that would connect her to her home in New York, and held her breath.
“Hello?”
Exhale. “Hello, Scott.”
“Storm, it is good to hear from you. How’s everything going?”
“Slowly. How is everyone back home?” She listened to Scott as he told her that the team was doing well, her friends missed her, life was just fine. She turned her face towards the sky, momentarily distracted by the unusual shift in air current. Odd.
“Storm, are you still there?” Scott’s voice was breaking up on the line.
“Sorry, Scott, there seems to be a bad connection. I will be in touch soon.” She replaced the phone to its cradle, her eyes glowing white. Something was wrong. The colors of the wind were angry reds and oranges, not the sapphire and yellow they should be. A bolt of lightening split the air, sending passerby’s screaming, running into the protection of the buildings around them. The air rumbled and another large bolt crashed into the telephone pole directly beside her. Heavy rain began pouring from the sky.
“Gambit!”
Storm sent a powerful gust of wind directly to the ground, lifting herself above the panicked citizens. She held her hands out, running them back and forth across the sky, soothing the air, calming…taming….
Gambit appeared before his name was completely out of her mouth. He stared at his padnat in fascination. She was remarkable! With her hair whipped loose from it’s braid and her eyes blazing bright against the dark sky she looked every inch the Goddess. She turned towards him, her mouth a grim line of determination.
“There is something dark here, Remy.” A blast of wind lifted him so that he was flung next to her, her hands catching the front of his tailored shirt. Flecks of lightening escaped her bright orbs as she gave him a snarl that would have done the Wolverine proud. “Start talking.”

New Orleans



“Easy, chere. If ya would be so kind as t’ be puttin’ Remy back on da ground, we could get dis settled, non?” Gambit glanced uneasily from the ground below him to the woman holding him, her eyes flashing.
“I mean it, Remy. Start talking.” Ororo settled them gently on the sidewalk.
“Oui, but not ‘ere. We ‘ave to go. Dey know we’re ‘ere.” Gambit grabbed her hand and pulled her through the reemerging crowd. Takes more than a little freak thunder storm to ruin Mardi Gras, he thought pushing past several tourists with none too gentle force.
“Gambit, slow down.” Ororo yanked her hand free of his. He turned and gave her a desperate look. “Whatever is troubling you we can face it together,” she said, her voice calming as an ocean breeze. “Just talk to me, my brother.” Her face showed the depth of her concern.
Gambit reached out and touched her cheek. “Ah, padnat, I am far removed from ‘avin’ brotherly t’oughts ’bout you. And for what it’s worth, I am terrible sorry that I dragged you into dis.” He took a quick look around. No one yet- maybe they hadn’t been seen…
“Into what, Remy. I still do not understand. What are you so afraid of?”
“No time, Stormy. We have to move.” He took off his sunglasses and looked her straight in the eyes. “Trust me.”
No hesitation from her. “Always, my friend.”
Gambit’s insides turned at her unconditional trust and friendship. She had readily come to his aid, without knowing the full circumstances of what he was involved in. All Ororo had needed to know was that her friend was in trouble and he needed her help. The rest was inconsequential. Gambit knew he was not worthy of such loyalty. What he had almost done was eating away at him, and he needed to get them out of there before it was too late. “Let’s move!”
A dark figure stepped out of the alley directly in front of them, cloak billowing around its feet. “Lebeau.”
“Sorry, mon ami, but you ‘ave the wrong man.” Gambit stepped in front of Storm, hoping she would take a hint and stay behind him. “’xcuse us.”
“I am afraid I must insist that you and your companion accompany me. My party is anxiously awaiting your arrival.” The dark figure continued as though Gambit had not spoken. “I will be your escort.”
Something in the dark figure’s voice turned Ororo’s blood to ice. It was deep and velvety, eerily soothing yet utterly terrifying at the same time. She noticed that the air had gone stale, the wind dying down to nothing. She sent a mental call for the winds, but nothing moved, not even the slightest breeze.
“…Gambit…”
At the sound of her voice the cloaked figure’s head shifted slightly. There was a lengthy pause before the voice commanded once more that they accompany him. Deciding it best not to risk an outdoor fight in such a populated area Storm nudged Gambit between the shoulders. He refused to budge. “Remy, we can not risk a fight here,” she whispered. “We go.”
“A wise choice,” the figure murmured, sending a fresh batch of chills up her spine. With a soft swoosh of his cloak the figure turned and lead the way down the crowded sidewalk, never once having to tell anyone to move, or step aside, they simply parted before him.
After what felt like only moments they found themselves in front of a large plantation style home. Old shutters banged against the sides of the house, peeling the faded paint. A wrought iron gate cried in protest against its hinges, swinging back and forth, eerily in the absence of a breeze. Looking over her shoulder Storm realized they were well outside the city. She was confused having traveled such a great distance in just a few moments, but not so confused as to miss the opportunity to stop and face the cloaked figure.
“This is far enough, stranger. We go no farther until you give me some answers.” Her voice crackled with authority.
“Did our friend not already tell you? Tsk, tsk, Lebeau.”
Gambit stepped forward, red on black eyes blazing. “I’ve changed my mind. Deal’s off.” He grabbed Storm’s hand, squeezing to the point of pain. There was something desperate in his grip. Gambit was afraid, Storm realized. Very afraid.
“You gave your word. You can not take away what was promised. We made a deal, signed in blood.” The cloaked figures voice dropped an octave causing every hair on Ororo’s body to rise. “We will have what was promised to us.” The voice was almost a hiss now.
“I said no.” Gambit pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket. The threat was clear. For a mutant who can charge objects with kinetic energy a deck of cards could be a valuable and powerful weapon. However in this case they appeared useless as with a wave of his hand the dark figure sent Gambit to his knees, clutching his chest.
“Run…Stor..my…”
“Enough!” Storm knelt beside Gambit, her hands searching for injury. He groaned, face turning white, then purple. “Stop!” She felt fear welling up inside.
“You can save him.” The cloaked man whispered. “Just give us what he owes.”
“N-n-n-no,” Gambit struggled to breathe. His body began to convulse.
Storm rose, her voice clear as a crystal lake, and just as pure. “Enough, stranger! Whatever he promised you, you shall have!”
“Your word,” the figure demanded.
“You have my word.” At once the convulsions left Gambit’s body.
“Padnat, no!” He tried to rise. Ororo reached down, placing a restraining arm on his shoulders.
“Easy, Remy. All will be well.” She glared at the dark figure, eyes blazing. ”What is it that he owes. What is it that he promised?” she demanded.
“You, witch! He promised us you!” The snarl came from behind and Storm could feel her composure leaving. Hot, moist breath fanned her neck.
“Creed…”

New York


The thundering skies had settled leaving behind only a distant grumble and a sprinkling of rain. Funny how even the smallest shower made him think of her. The scent of freshly fallen rain causing his breathing to become labored with pent up, unreleased emotions. He was finishing up the last of ground’s patrol, and knew that now was not the time for his mind to be wandering in those directions. That was always his problem, he reflected. It never seemed to be the right time, at least not for him. Wolverine gave himself a mental shake; “Don’t go feelin’ sorry fer yerself’,” he grumbled aloud.
From his vantage point in the courtyard Wolverine could see that several lights in the mansion were still lit. Some of the kids were studying, some playing in the rec room, others just reading alone. Life at the institute was proceeding in its normal fashion, well as normal as any place crawling with ’gifted’ people could proceed. But for Wolverine it didn’t feel normal, nowhere near; instead, it felt empty and hollow. Unintentionally his gaze wandered to the balcony outside the large attic loft that was home to his closest friend. No lights there. She was still gone with that Cajun’. Gone where? He didn’t know. Didn’t care, he lied to himself. The skin over his knuckles began to itch, and he angrily scratched at it.
The clouds were parting, revealing a low hanging moon, casting mysterious and dark shadows over the estate. Something didn’t feel right. He lifted his head, sniffing. Nothing out of the ordinary there. He let his claws extend from the back of his hands -snikt-. Wolverine had learned a long time ago to trust his instincts, they’d saved his ass more times than he could remember. As his senses became more alert, the feeling of apprehension steadily grew. He felt a tug on his psyche.
*Logan.*
“Chuck.”
*My office. Now.*
Normally Wolverine took exception to anyone treading in his skull, but there was something in the professor’s voice that told him to let it slide. With a quick puff off his cigar Logan headed for the mansion at preternatural speed.
Once inside he headed straight to the Professor’s office. The nagging sensation that something was wrong growing every step of the way. “Enter,” Xavier’s voice rang out before Wolverine could knock.
Seated behind a desk of dark mahogany Charles Xavier looked every inch commander and chief. He had a commanding presence that demanded respect. He and Wolverine had more conflicts than most, but each definitely held a great deal of respect for the other. On either side of Xavier stood Jean and Cyclops, both wearing their uniforms.
“You called.” Wolverine took a seat in one of the two plush chairs in front of the desk, placing his booted feet on the edge, crossing his arms, looking very comfortable. He gave Cyclops a feral smile in greeting. The slight straightening of Scott’s spine was the only indication that Wolverine got under his skin. Sensing his irritation Wolverine’s smile turned into a nasty grin.
Xavier gave both men a disapproving stare. “I have reason to believe that Storm may be in very serious trouble.” Xavier began without preamble.
Logan‘s head snapped around, he straightened and leaned forward, grin gone. Xavier read the questions running through their minds and despite the circumstances found himself oddly comforted by their collective worry and obvious caring for their fellow member. They were a family, after all.
“What kinda trouble?” Logan’s tone was soft and dangerous.
“I am uncertain. I have not been in close contact with Storm for a few months now, but approximately two hours ago my mental link with Ororo was abruptly severed, and I haven’t been able to reestablish one.”
There was a moment of silence in the room as the implications of what Charles had said registered. “That’s about the same time she called,“ Scott interjected. “We had a bad connection and got cut off.”
Wolverine turned on him, teeth bared. “And that didn’t seem odd t’ ya?”
Scott stood ramrod straight, his tone defensive. “She sounded fine. Storm can take care of herself, she isn’t another one of your damsels in distress, runt.”
-Snikt- “Wanna run that by me again, One-eye?”
*Enough!* Both men jerked at the voice in their heads.
“Thank you, Jean.” Xavier backed his wheelchair from behind the desk and began ‘pacing’ the carpet. “If Ororo was making phone calls two hours ago, and our psychic connection was cut off about the same time, we have a timeline to work with. We simply do not have enough facts to jump to any conclusions, however. It is my inability to reach her that worries me. We must find her and make certain she’s all right.”
“Well, where the hell was she?”
“I didn’t ask,” Scott’s voice was still defensive, but traces of self-doubt were creeping in. Should he have known something was amiss, should he have demanded an exact location from her? Jean placed her hand on his arm, her face turned up with concern. She could always sense his feelings. He missed their closeness. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Logan could feel his anger mounting and struggled to contain it. She had called? Ole One-eye had gotten to hear the smoky velvet of her voice? Had she asked about him? Did she miss him? Did she think about him at all? Or was Gumbo keeping her too busy? A low growl formed in his throat.
“Well, Chuck, you musta known where the Cajun‘ was takin‘ her.”
“To be perfectly honest, Logan, no I did not. I trust Storm to make her own decisions, and I do not question them.”
“ It is a privilege she has earned.” Scott added.
“Wonderful.” Wolverine rose from the chair. “So what’s the plan? Take a few shot in the dark guesses at where they might be? That the plan, boy scout?” The two men glared at each other, neither moving save for the rise and fall of their chests.
“Ya’ll could always check the caller id,” came a voice from the doorway. “Or, heck, maybe ya might try askin’ me if Ah know where my man has run off ta.” Rogue shrugged her shoulders. “Call me crazy, but that’s where Ah’d start. Professor,” she greeted. “Got here as fast as Ah could.” A crumbled letter was hanging from her limp fingertips.
“Thank you for coming, Rogue. Please fill us all in on what you know.” Xavier could easily pull the information from her mind, but he respected each individual and their right to privacy.
“I got this from Remy in today’s mail.“ She laid the worn letter on top of the desk. “It ain’t good news.“ It was then that Wolverine noticed how red rimmed her eyes were, how pale she looked. He caught the scent of tears as she walked past him.
“Ah’m sorry. Ah shoulda known. He was actin’ so strange before they left. Like he wasn’t comin’ back.” She took a deep breath. “He ain’t.” Rogue looked at her feet as she spoke, her words barely audible.
“Continue, please.” Xavier gave her a gentle mental nudge.
“We all know that before Remy was an X-Man he did some shady things. But this…” Rogue’s lower lip trembled slightly.
“Go on,” Wolverine growled, his stance aggressive.
“Remy got word that one of the people he owed big to was wantin’ to settle up. Wanted to make a trade.” She took a breath, unable to continue. “Professor..?” she turned to Xavier, her breaking heart in her eyes. *Help*
Charles closed his eyes, his mind skimming over Rogue’s. He felt her pain, her aching loneliness, and her fear.
“My God,” he whispered breaking contact. At once he commanded, “Cyclops ready the Blackbird. You, Jean and Logan depart immediately.”
“Professor? What is it?” Jean asked.
“Gambit is trading Storm to clear his debt. Move, my X-Men!” The team needed no further urging, exploding from Xavier’s office and making their way to the Blackbird launch area at breakneck speed.
*We’ll find her.* Jean sent a wave of encouragement to Wolverine. In return she received images of Gambit bloodied and screaming. A rage so consuming, for a moment it took her breath.
“Ah’m comin’ too!”
“Only if you wanna see Gumbo gutted!” Wolverine leapt the three stories from the elevator to the hanger floor without breaking stride.
“Hold on, ‘Ro. I’m comin’ for ya, darlin’!”

Disclaimer: Yep, apparently Marvel isn’t willing to sell, so I still don’t own any of these guys…Son of a-


New Orleans
(Abandoned Plantation house)


“Didya miss me, baby doll?”
Storm whirled around and found herself staring into a pair of feral yellow eyes framed by straggled blonde hair. Victor Creed , Sabertooth to his meals, was a mutant gifted and possessed with animal savagery and instincts. Paired with his healing abilities, he was a dangerous adversary… much like Wolverine.
“Wanna dance?” Sabertooth lashed out knocking Storm to the ground. Instinctively she tried to summon lightening from the sky, but found herself unable to do so. Something was still blocking her powers. A low humming caught her attention and she noticed the cloaked figure that had lead her and Gambit here was making the sound, his hands creating intricate patterns in the air. She knew he was responsible for the blockage, but was unable to reflect on it as a throaty roar brought her gaze back to her attacker. Sabertooth leapt high in the air, landing with enough force to dent the ground in the spot Ororo had been laying in. She rolled away, heart racing.
*Calm yourself, Windrider. Remember your training…* Ororo took a deep breath leaping to her feet. She faced Creed head on, watching for his next move; waiting for him to give away the direction in which his next attack would come. She could almost hear Wolverine’s voice in her head: “Let them make the mistakes, let them come to you, darlin‘.” Sabertooth lunged again, this time Ororo sidestepped, her heel connecting with a solid smack against the back of his head.
“Storm, what’re ya doin’? Run!” Gambit hollered, still clutching his chest. “Run, padnat!”
Ororo did not look at him, her entire focus on the raging mutant in front of her. Her heel ached from her kick, her white sandals offering no protection in this battle. Sabertooth grinned at her like a little boy with a new toy. “So, the witch wants to fight? Ya can’t go hand to hand with me, girlie. I’ll tear ya apart!” With the quickness of a born predator he charged, slamming his shoulder into her stomach and driving her against a tree. “Feels good don’t it, baby,” Sabertooth sniffed her hair. “Smell so good. Such sweet meat.” He licked the side of her face, pressing himself against her.
Ignoring the incredible pain in her stomach Storm threw her head back, planted her feet and rammed her forehead against Sabertooth’s pug nose. He let out a satisfying yowl, releasing her and clutching his gushing nose. “Bitch!” Spittle and blood sprayed her cheek.
“What can I say,” Ororo readied herself again, her stance firm, head held high. “ I learned from the best, bub. You think you scare me? Hardly. You are a rabid animal that needs to be put down. Nothing more.” The taunt was deliberate, causing a roar of pure fury to escape Sabertooth. She tried to take a step back, only to find herself pressed against the tree.
“Ahhh, there it is,” Sabertooth sighed heavily, sniffing the air. “Fear. You are scared, ain’t ya, baby doll!” Before she had time to blink his large fist connected with her jaw sending her through the rotting tree and tumbling across the ground.
“Stormy!”
Storm slowly rose to her feet. Feigning more strength than she felt, she snapped, “Do shut up, Gambit. You are breaking my concentration. I will deal with you later.” Her jaw throbbed in protest. Ororo knew she could not hold out against Sabertooth much longer, he was a born fighter, a natural killer; she only hoped her intuition was right and that the X-Men were on their way. Earlier she thought she had felt the brush of Charles’ mind against her own, but it was too fleeting to be certain. *Hurry, Logan…* she thought. Again she took up her defensive stance. “Now, Creed, where were we?”


On the Blackbird

“Can’t this hunk o’ tin go any faster?” It was the third time in twenty minutes that Wolverine had made the complaint. His growls getting deeper and lower.
“Not if you want to get there in one piece.” Scott barely glanced back.
-Snikt- “How badly do you wanna get there in one piece, Bub?”
“Logan!” Jean turned around giving him a look of frustration. “We all want to find her as fast as we can--“ She paused, eyes closed and Wolverine knew she was getting information from Xavier via the thought-freeway. “The professor picked up some strange psychic activity over New Orleans. Just like you thought, Rogue.”
Wolverine turned his head toward the window. Clouds. She loved the clouds. She would stand on her balcony and watch them overhead and when she just couldn’t take it anymore she rose up high, twirling and soaring amongst them. Her glorious eyes closed, a look of undulated rapture on her beautiful face. Cloud dancing’ she called it. He pictured her there, flying beside the Blackbird, snow white hair flowing behind her. He turned away, heart beating a little too fast. He glanced over at Rogue. She hadn’t said two words since leaving the mansion. This was just as rough on her, he thought. Maybe more so. At least he didn’t have to kick Storm’s ass when they found her.
“How you holding up?” Jean asked Rogue, picking up on his concerns. Good ole Jeannie. She had so much good in her, so much to offer. For a long time he thought he could share his life with her. But over the years his infatuation with her faded as he realized he was pursuing Jean because he knew he didn’t belong with her. She could never really hurt him. Sure, the occasional superficial emotional wounds. But he’d never let her in, not entirely, always keeping her away from his dark side. His real fear was loving someone who knew all there was to know about him, someone who’d see through his bull shit and call him on it. Someone like ‘Ro.
“Oh, Ah don’t know,” Rogue said, interrupting his thoughts. “How’d ya feel if ya learned Scottie was a low-down-money-grubbin’-sewer rat?”
Jean was silent for a moment. “Are you sure you want to do this? This could get ugly.”
Rogue’s hands clenched, forming tight fists. “Ya’ll ain’t seen ugly yet.”
Wolverine felt his own hands fist. He‘d never liked Gumbo, but ‘Ro had always had a soft spot for the theivin‘ scoundrel. The thought of her being bartered away to pay for Gambit’s debts set his teeth on edge. The skin over his knuckles stretched, his blades aching to get out.
“We there yet, fly boy?”


New Orleans

Storm landed another solid kick to Sabertooth’s midsection before dancing out of his reach. Her breath was coming in spurts now, blood flowing from her nose and cracked lip. Her arms ached and her knuckles hurt from exertion. Sabertooth on the other hand looked fit as a fiddle, his healing factor countering any progress she was making, but still she stood and that was what mattered.
“Who knew she had it in her.” Gambit looked up at the new voice beside him. “She’s just full of surprises isn’t she?” The blue skinned, seductive mutant smiled down at him. She was flanked by two exceptionally large men, all sporting an array of weapons.
“Mystique. You ‘ave me. Let ‘er go. “
“Ah, but we do not want you, Gambit. In fact we have no further use of you what so ever. Our buyer is only interested in Storm.” She dropped a duffle bag next to him. “Your share of the money. Sinister sends his regards.”
Remy started to rise, but decided against it when Mystique pressed a cold gun barrel against his temple. “Uh-uh-ah. You just stay right there ‘til Creed’s had his fill. Don’t worry, Gambit, we’re under strict orders not to kill her.” She glanced back at the two sparring opponents. “However, we certainly can’t help it if she accidentally gets broken.”
Gambit felt his stomach turn. What had he done? He lowered his head, hiding the sheen in his eyes from Mystique. “Forgive me, “ he whispered.
Storm was fading. Sabertooth could smell her blood, her sweat, her life force slipping away. It was an ambrosia to be savored. He drew back his upper lip in a gleeful sneer. Her defiance excited him, made him want to see her broken-- begging for mercy all the more. She was swaying on her feet…not much longer now…
Wiping the sweat from her eyes, Storm watched Sabertooth intently. His attacks were coming with greater frequency and stronger than ever. She realized he was only toying with her, much like a cat before the kill, but she refused to give up. She flipped backwards, narrowly avoiding his lurch forward, swiping at her with razor sharp claws.
“I’m gonna see you bleedin‘-- screamin‘-- cryin’ out ta God!” Sabertooth swore, leaping over her head and knocking her to the ground, viciously kicking her in ribs. She bit back a scream and he was rewarded with the snapping of her bones. He pulled her to her feet by her hair. “Pathetic.” He threw her with brutal force, her head and back meeting the exterior of the house with a sickening thud.
“Creed!” Mystique hollered. “Enough! She needs to be alive!”
Gambit felt his entire body recoil. “Ya sed he wasn’t goin’ ta kill her!” He was becoming panicked. Think Remy, think!
Sabertooth was in a red killing haze, Mystique’s voice a muffled buzz in the distance. “Look at ya! A Goddess!! Ha! A bitch, kneelin’ at my feet!” His voice was frenzied, breathing heavy.
Ororo grit her teeth, body shrieking in agony as she rolled on all fours, pushing herself to get up. She stood once again, her knees threatening to buckle, her entire body shaking with the effort. She swallowed her nausea and squared her shoulders, lifting her head as proud as any Goddess.“…I-- kneel…before… no-- man!”
Gambit couldn’t hold his tears any longer; her spirit took his breath away. Bloodied and beaten but never broken-- not his Stormy. “Padnat!“ He shouted in agony as Sabertooth pounced, his razor sharp claws sinking into Storm’s chest eliciting the most terrible sound Remy had ever heard. Storm was screaming!

Blackbird

“Down there!” Jean shouted. She had been mentally scanning the area, skimming over the psyche of the city until she found it. A void. A blank space where there seemed to be absolutely no psychic activity whatsoever. Scott began the Blackbird’s decent immediately. He trusted Jean’s abilities and knew that if this was where she thought Storm was, than this was where Storm was.
“Oh my God!” Jean’s horrified gasp brought Wolverine to her side, his gaze intense as he looked out the window. The sight that greeted him turned his blood to ice, a savage roar erupting from his throat.


Over the hum of the blood rushing in her ears Storm heard the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. “ORORO!!!”
“Logan…” Sabertooth was forcibly lifted off of her, his howl of pain echoing in her ear. She slid down the wall, leaving a bloody trail, too weak to move any more. But that was all right. Logan was here, she was safe…
Wolverine was berserk! Jean could feel the raw emotions pouring out of him. So much pain and fear and rage it hurt and terrified her. When he had seen Sabertooth with his hand buried in Ororo’s chest he had lost it, slicing open the cabin with his claws and leaping from the jet. Cabin pressure went out with him and it had taken all of her telekinetic skill keep the plane from plummeting straight into the ground. Lucky for Wolverine Rogue had flown after him, catching him under the arms and cannon balling him straight into Creed.
“Hiya, Runt!” Sabertooth rolled away from Wolverine, three bloody gashes across his arm. “What’s got ya so worked up?” Sabertooth’s voice was mocking. “Are ya here fer yer bitch?” Creed raised his bloodied hand, licking his fingers with obvious relish. “She’s a tasty li’l morsel, I gotta tell ya. Put up one helluva a fight. The feisty ones always taste better, ever notice that?”
“Mother Fucker!” Wolverine attacked, six blades slashing wildly. His teeth bared, snarling and cussing. He attacked and kept on attacking, not giving any reprieve. Sabertooth howled in pain. His skin was being flayed from his body under Wolverine’s frenzied assault. He had never faced Wolverine like this. Never had he seen the runt so furious and hell bent on killing him. He lashed out, slashing blindly hoping to throw off Wolverine’s relentless pursuit.
Wolverine could smell Sabertooth’s unease and fear. It fed his anger, fed his drive. Had Sabertooth made ‘Ro feel like this? Had he frightened her? He sliced faster, mindlessly savage in his anger. As Creed tried to leap over his head Wolverine reached out snatching his ankle, swinging viciously, sending Creed crashing through the plantation house wall. Wolverine felt his control evaporating under the red hot heat of his rage. How dare this monster touch her! How dare he even look at her! He charged, burying his blades deep in Sabertooth’s gut. Before he could slash to the side, effectively disemboweling his most hated enemy he felt a bullet pierce his shoulder.
“Not so fast,” Mystique stood swiveling her arm and pointing her gun at Storm’s fallen form. “Back up nice and easy…that’s a good boy.”
“Enjoy this moment,” Wolverine growled, retracting his claws. “Cause I’ll be tearin’ yer head off and shoving’ that puny pistol down yer throat soon as I reach ya!”
Despite her calm exterior, the savage animalistic tone in Wolverine’s voice sent cold fear racing through her body. She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think so. Take him, Creed!”
Sabertooth drew back, fully prepared and more than willing to strike Wolverine from behind, but he was instead sent soaring through the air by an optic blast courtesy of the X-Men’ somber leader.
Under normal circumstances Wolverine would have given Cyclops a hard time for interfering in one of his fights but his concern for Storm was overriding everything. He was racing to her side when he felt every muscle in his body contract to the point of tearing. “Aauugh!” The pain was relentless. He fought to put one foot in front of the other. He had to get to Storm! He had to!
*Jean!*
*I’m here, Scott!*
*Wolverine is under some sort of telepathic attack! I‘m following Sabertooth, find their telepath!*
*I can sense the malevolence. I’m on it!*
Jean poured out a wave of psychic energy, searching for an anomaly, something to lead her to the attacker’s location. Almost immediately she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, her mind grazing over an presence of darkness. Jean Grey was one of the most powerful psychics on the planet, powerful enough to host and contain the most awesome power in the Universe, the Phoenix, at one time. Their enemy had no chance. Jean sent out a pulse of psychic power, disrupting the other telepath’s wavelength. Instantly the air shimmered and a cloaked figure came into view. “Gotchya!” Using her powers she peered into their adversary’s mind, only to receive a frightening shock. This was no mutant! She concentrated and severed the link this creature had with Wolverine as fast as she could.
*Scott! We need to leave at once!*
*No Kidding.*
Jean ignored that, instead lowering herself to the ground, searching for any other psychic anomalies.

As soon as Wolverine had dropped from the sky like an avenging demon Gambit snatched the black duffel at his feet and raced towards Storm’s still body. His knees gave way and he dropped to the ground beside her. “Padnat,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her bloodied hair. “Forgive me. Forgive me.” He leaned forward, placing his lips on hers. They were so cold. “Please…”
Storm’s eyes fluttered. She could hear a voice, talking to her. Asking for forgiveness. Remy. Not the voice she longed to hear, she let herself sink back into peaceful oblivion. “Logan…”she whispered as she descended.
“Hands off, Gumbo!” Wolverine’s vicious snarl caused Gambit to jerk away from Storm’s body. “Ye’ll never touch her again, Cajun! Hell, ye’ll be lucky t’ see the light o’ day!”
Gambit took in Wolverine’s muscled form and extended claws, still dripping with Sabertooth’s blood and hastened to his feet.
“She’s askin’ for ya.” Gambit said, his gaze resting on Storm, whose breathing was becoming more and more labored. Wolverine’s gaze followed his and Gambit took the opportunity to back away from the clearing, casting Storm one last worried glance before taking off.
It was no contest, giving into his rage and desire to chase down and beat the Cajun to a bloody pulp versus his desire to hold Storm in his arms and assure himself that she was alive. He dropped beside her, his features contorting with sadness and rage as he turned her in his arms, taking in her injuries. Her face was a bloody mess and the gash in her chest was deep, spurting blood with every faint beat of her heart. “Hang on, darlin’. I’m here. Ya hear me “Ro. I’m here, baby. C’mon, don’t do this to me,” his voice broke. “Don’t give up, Storm. Yer a fighter, aintchya? Come back to me.” He cradled her head in his lap, whispering to her.
“Logan, let me see.” Jean came from behind him. She carefully knelt beside him and Storm. She could sense the beast just beneath the surface. Wolverine was holding onto his sanity by a thread and she didn’t want to risk pushing him over the edge. “Let me see, “she said again when he made no move to relinquish his hold on Ororo.
Jean tried to remain objective, letting her instincts as a doctor take over, but it was immensely difficult when it was the sister of her heart laying so lifeless on the ground. “We need to get her home. Quickly.”
“Wish it were that easy,” Scott said appearing from the woods. “Someone trashed our Jet.” The accusation hung heavy in the air.
Wolverine felt frustration and fear waging war within himself. He knew the Jet was his doing, and he hated his impulsiveness at that moment. “Well, yer the goddamn fearless leader. Do something’!” Storm stirred in his arms, emitting a low moan. He stroked her cheek feeling helpless. “Hang on, Ro. Keep fightin’.”

New Orleans


Rogue headed south. The direction in which Gambit had disappeared. He couldn’t have gotten too far, he would need a mode of transportation. Ah-ha! Semi hidden in the brush, a black jeep sat at the end of the dirt road, doors open. He was leaning into the driver’s seat, Mystique’s two burly companions laying behind him in a heap. Her voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Ain’t gonna happen, Shugah.” Gambit looked up and found Rogue standing over him, her mouth compressed in anger. He stood slowly.
“Anna…”
“Don’t. Don’t!” Her eyes misted and she hated herself for her foolish desire to hear him say her given name, to hear him beg for her forgiveness, for him to tell her it was all a mistake, that he never intended on leaving her.
“Rogue listen t’ me. I never meant --”
Rogue caught him under the chin with her bare hand, lifting him off his feet. “Ah--said--DON”T!” As Remy’s powers and emotions poured into her, Rogue felt her body shifting, morphing uncontrollably. She let him drop with a strangled cry.
“Rogue.” With what appeared to be a rippling of flesh, Gambit transformed and Mystique stood before her, yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. “As much as I’d enjoy catching up with you, Rogue, Mama’s got to catch your runaway lover.”
Rogue was trying to regain her composure, her body still shifting from one shape to another. “Why?” Rogue panted, demanding. “What did ya offer him, Raven, that was worth him betrayin’ the X-Men?”
Mystique smiled a small knowing smile. “C’mon, Anna. What you really want to know is, what was worth his betraying you.” Mystique slid into the driver’s seat of the jeep as she spoke. “And I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you, sweety. Wish I could.” The engine revved to life. Rogue reached under the jeep’s bumper, lifting the front tires clear off the ground.
“Goin‘ somewhere?” She stood with one hand on her hip.
Mystique rolled her eyes. “Rogue, honestly. I do believe you have other concerns now, don’t you. A fallen Windrider?” Her tone was smug. Rogue knew she was right, there were more important things to take care of. She’d deal with Mystique…and Gambit, later.
“Wolverine’s gunning for ya.“ Rogue said softly, dropping the Jeep’s front-end with a thump. “Ah‘d run and stay runnin’ if Ah was you.” With those parting remarks she headed back to the clearing where her fellow X-Men were huddled around their fallen leader. Rogue felt her throat tighten as she stared at her friend’s unmoving form. Storm had always radiated life and to see her laying so still, her skin ashen, crimson stains covering most of her body was upsetting at the very least.
“Well, yer the goddamn fearless leader. Do something’!” She heard, approaching her teammates.
“How is she?” She asked, landing besides Cyclops. He shook his head, expression grim.
“We need to evac, now.” Jean was saying, her tone disciplined, her motions methodical. She placed both hands over the wound on Storm’s chest, adding as much pressure as she dared, feeling the give beneath her palms indicating broken-if not shattered- ribs. “Scott, you and Rogue get me the stretcher and medical supplies from the Blackbird. Logan, slice off Storm’s garments. I need a better look at what I’m working with.”
He released one of his long, razor sharp claws, and with a gentleness few knew he possessed Wolverine slit open Storm’s top, baring her chest and stomach for Jean’s appraisal. “Oh, My God!” Came Jean’s horrified gasp. Under the blood stained green cotton top Ororo’s stomach and ribs were quickly tuning a dark, ugly purple. But that wasn’t what caused Jean’s dismay. The wound over Ororo’s heart was open and gaping, excreting blood at an alarming level. “It looks like he tried to tear her heart right out of her chest.” Jean’s voice wavered. She took a deep steadying breath. “Logan, you have to stop that. My mind can only handle so much raw emotion at one time.”
Wolverine did not respond. He simply stared at Ororo’s chest, unable to think past his fury, enraged by the marks left by Sabertooth. “Logan!” His head snapped up.
“What?” he growled. She said nothing, instead reaching for his hand and placing it over the wound.
“Hold here. Put as much pressure as we’re applying now. We have to stop the hemorrhaging.” *Scott!*
“Here.” He and Rogue appeared a moment later. He laid the stretcher beside Storm. He felt utterly helpless, watching as Jean took the supplies out of Rogue’s hand and began creating a compress. He clenched his jaw. He was their leader, dammit. It was time he did something! “Jean, keep me informed. I’m going to patch the Bird. Rogue, with me.” His voice was authoritative, tone decisive.
*That’s the Scott I know and love,* Jean sent to him. She reached under Storm’s shoulders, wrapping the compress and Storm’s upper torso in heavy gauze. “Here we go.” She indicated to Wolverine that he take the opposite side of Storm’s body. “Storm, if you can hear me we’re going to move you now. Try and stay with us, okay.” She locked eyes with Logan. “On three. One. Two. Three.” They lifted and moved as one, placing Storm on the stretcher. No response from Ororo. Jean looked at Wolverine, unable to disguise her fear.
“’Ro, ya gotta stay strong. Ya hear me? Yer goin’ t’ pull through this.“ Wolverine’s voice was graveled and firm. Unconsciously Ororo turned her head, seeking him out. His fingers brushed her forehead. “I ain’t gonna lose ya now.”
Jean felt her heart go out to him. He was well and truly in love, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. Logan had never once looked at her the way he was looking at Storm, not in all the times he professed his undying love for her, not when giving her suggestive innuendos, not even during the moments she had given in to her attraction. No, he had never looked at any woman the way he looked at Ororo.
Once Storm was secured they lifted her in one fluid motion, and started towards the Blackbird. On their way Wolverine caught Gambit’s scent and had to forcibly deny his primal urge to hunt and kill. ‘Ro was the most important thing. The only one who mattered. As they approached the Bird, they could make out the sound of Cyclop’s optic blasts echoing through the swamp. Rogue was holding a piece of steel against the jet and Cyke was doing a free “hand” weld.
“That gonna hold?” Rogue asked.
“It’s going to have to.” Scott responded. “We need to get Storm back to the Institute now!” He looked at Jean and Wolverine. “How’s she holding up?”
“Breathing faint, unsteady. Pulse-thready. BP unreadable.” Jean rattled off the information, before mentally instructing Rogue to lift their friend into he plane. She ran a saline IV into Storm’s arm and attached an EKG monitor to her chest. “We’ll need a splint,” she called. “It appears this arm is broken.”
Wolverine didn’t know how much more he could take. His claws slid in and out of his hands in rhythmic frustration. He handed Jean one of Forge’s stasis splints, a nifty little invention from the mutant ‘Maker’. It would keep Ororo’s arm straight and safe, preventing infection and speeding up healing.
“Strap in people!” Scott commanded, the Blackbird engines letting out a whine as they sprung to life.
*Professor!*
*I’m here, Jean.*
*Have Hank and Warren meet us in Medical!*
*Is it as we feared?*
*Worse.* Jean sent Xavier mental pictures and information.
*We’ll be ready.*
The plane was shaking, lifting slowly off the ground. A red light began flashing overhead.
“I can’t get a large enough updraft to clear the trees,” Scott said, pushing buttons and pulling levers.
“Allow…me…” All eyes flew to the woman laying on the stretcher. Her own eyes, barely open, glowed soft white in the cabin. Immediately responding to the summons of their mistress, strong currents of air pushed the Blackbird off the ground and sent it soaring through into the sky.
Wolverine felt his gut clench, Rogue and Jean exchanged hopeful glances. Jean’s hopeful expression quickly faded as Ororo’s eyes slid shut once again and the heart monitor began beeping incessantly, followed by the terrible drone of a flatline.
“Defib, now!” Jean pulled the defibrillator from the overhead compartment with a thought. She rubbed the paddles together, saying a soft prayer under her breath. “Clear!” Storm’s body didn’t arch off the stretcher, the machine seemingly having no effect on her. “Come on, come on, come on… Clear!” Another jolt, and still no response.
“Why isn’t it workin’?“ Wolverine demanded angrily.
“Storm conducts electricity through her body on a regular basis, tens of thousands times greater than this.“ Jean threw the paddles to the floor, pressing her mouth to Ororo’s and breathing for her. “Breathe…” Nothing. Again. No response.
The part of Jean that was a doctor knew that very few people survived serious traumatic injuries, and that the trauma Ororo suffered was an almost 100 percent fatal injury, because massive hemorrhaging had already caused her blood pressure to drop, her heart to stop beating and her brain was slowly going to die. But the part of Jean that was friend and X-Man refused to give up. Ororo was the strongest woman she knew. A fighter since childhood.
“Rogue, open the side panel below the medical cabinet. There should be a large silver case, inside is a blue and silver container and tubing. Bring them to me. Logan, CPR!”
*Jean. What’re you doing? Forge said those were experimental.* Scott’s voice was a sanctuary to her turbulent mind.
*I need to isolate the heart and the brain and perfuse it with an oxygenating solution. If I don’t she has no chance.*
*Do what you must. Be careful, I think Wolverine’s about to lose it.*
Wolverine was bent over Ororo, his mouth covering hers, breathing into her lungs, pumping her chest. “’Ro, you can’t do this to us. We need ya, darlin’.”
Rogue set the container and tubing on the medical stand beside Jean. Her features showing the worry they all felt. Jean swabbed Storm’s chest with alcohol and iodine, before selecting a scalpel and slicing a small incision around the jagged wound Sabertooth had created. She pushed the blunt end of the silver tubing through the hole, attaching the other to the liquid blue container. With a gurgle the container began pumping its essence into Storm.
Ororo’s body arched high off the table, a spasm tightening her muscles from head to toe. “Hold her!” Jean commanded. Logan pressed himself over Storm, wishing he had gutted Sabertooth and Gambit with a furious vengeance.
………
“Coming in hot!” Cyclops warned as they approached the Xavier Institute.
“Let’s see what Ah can do ‘bout that.” Rogue opened the sliding door, flying in front of the Blackbird. She turned, facing it head on, grabbing the nose forcing it to slow. Cyclops gave her a thumbs up when they were at a reduced enough velocity he could land safely. With a flurry of movement they got Storm off the plane and headed down the corridor to the Med-lab. Wolverine clutching her hand the entire way.

Med-Lab

Ororo felt herself drifting. Occasionally a bright flash of light and a stab of excruciating pain would interrupt her peaceful drifting and that was real damn annoying. She tried to raise her arms, but couldn’t feel them. Oh, well, no matter. It’s not like she needed them to drift around in this place of warmth and clouds. She felt another spasm of pain, briefly mind-numbing, then she was once again drifting like flotsam on a calm sea. This was nice… Maybe she would stay awhile. It had been so long since she felt at peace, relaxed….Mmmm…yes, she could stay here for---
“’Ro, ya hear me! Don’t ya dare fuckin’ give up!”
Hmmm… that voice. Angry. Hurting. Hurting her… No she would stay here, nice and safe. Float some more, drifting along….
Pain! Pain! Pain!

“She’s fading.” Hank McCoy said, his soft cultured tones clipped with stress. He and Jean had been conducting reconstructive surgery on Storm’s mangled heart. A process that was intricate as well as tiring. The damage had been extensive, and that was only their main concern. Storm had several broken bones and severe internal injuries on top of her ravaged heart. It was a miracle that she had survived this long. His collegues did not respond to his obvious statement, just continued working. It was unspoken that they were not going to give up, that this was one fight they refused to relinquish. Hank squared his jaw, “Scalpel.”

Ohhh… that’s better. No more pain. Ororo felt her body warming, a melting feeling seeping in. Nice…
“Ororo.” Warm, loving, safe. She felt soft hands touch her face, blue eyes the color of the afternoon sky looking down at her, snow hair flowing endlessly.
“Mom…”

“I am here, daughter.” N’Dare’s image floated closer, becoming clearer. “How I have missed you, blessed child.” Loving arms engulfed Ororo.
Ororo’s vision blurred and she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. This couldn’t be happening, she watched her mother die when she was but a child! Unless… “Mom, I am afraid.”
“Shhh…. Have no fear, brave girl. You are safe here. Nothing can hurt you anymore.” Ororo nodded, relaxing into her mother’s warm embrace. “We are so proud of you, princess.”
“I have missed you so.” Ororo tightened her hold on her mother. “Blessed goddess I have missed you.”
N’Dare stroked her daughter’s hair, smiling serenely and looking as lovely as Storm remembered her. “What a wonderful woman you have grown into.” She pressed her face against Storm’s silvery locks. “We are so proud of you, darling daughter.”
Storm smiled, content to lay in the arms of her mother, happier than she had ever been. Peaceful…

“Flatline!”
A frenzy of activity followed Beast’s sharp word, and from his vantage point outside the med lab Wolverine could see several sharp and dangerous looking bits and pieces exchanging hands. He grit his teeth in anger, still pissed over Jean’s refusal to let him into the O.R., saying that his raw emotions would distract her. Sonofabitch!
Storm’s body arched high off the table as Warren focused all of his healing powers into her body. The angel of the X-Men was looking weary and Wolverine could smell their collective fear and frustration. Xavier had been trying, since they arrived an hour ago, to establish a mental link with Ororo. Trying to tie her to him in some way, to be her anchor, to no avail. She was beyond his reach.
Wolverine’s fist cracked the cement tiles, dust and debris falling to the white marble floor. “’Ro.” He had never felt so utterly helpless, so useless. Crack! Again his fist struck the wall. Goddamn it all! It wasn’t fair! She was so good! She didn’t deserve this! Of its own violation his mind wandered back to the night at the bar when she told him she was leaving. He should have told her to stay, hell he should have made her stay. Ha! He scoffed at his own foolishness. No one made Storm do anything she didn’t want to do. Over the years he had gone toe to toe with just about every member of the extended X family, and Ororo was the only person who would stand up to him when his temper was flaring and, through sheer force of personality, get him to back down.
“Here. Thought ya could use this.” Rogue handed him a steaming cup of black coffee. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the horrible play of activity in the O.R., as their friends fought for the life of one of their best.
“I’m gonna kill him, you know.” Wolverine said deadly soft.
“Ah know.”

“Am I dead?”
N’Dare floated above Storm’s head, looking every inch an angel of heaven. “No. Not dead. In Limbo, if you will. A place of transition. Your body is ravaged and tired, ready to let go, but your soul still clings to the earth. You always were stubborn.” N’Dare softly scolded. “It is here that your choice is to be made.”
“My choice?”
“Yes, darling. You must choose your destiny. A hard decision under normal circumstances, made harder by your body’s weakened state. You do not have much more time, Ororo.”
“What am I to choose, Mother? Whether I live or die?”
“One could put it that way. However, in your case, Ororo, you are special. Different. Your destiny is far greater than I could have ever imagined for you…or prepared you for. Xavier has done a marvelous job and for that he has my eternal thanks.”
“I do not understand.”
“It is complicated, love., and there isn’t sufficient time to discuss this. I shall put it as best I can. If you choose to stay on this side of the void we will leave this place and you will become the great power you are now destined to be. If you leave this place, you will give up this opportunity and your destiny will be remain undecided. Ororo, blessed child, you have more strength and power than you know, and no matter what choices you make I am certain that they will be courageous and pure. ”
Ororo was humbled beneath her mother’s praise. She did not know what to say. Swirls of clouds drifted past, her body feeling heavier and heavier with each passing moment. She thought of her friends, who all seemed so distant now, like photographs fading in the bright sunshine. Her mother’s smile was warm, welcoming. She, Ororo who had wandered so much in her life, wished to be still. To be home. To let go of the pain, the fighting, the constant need to keep her emotions in check, just…let…go…

Each moment in the O.R. felt like an eternity to Jean. No matter what they did, how fast they moved, Ororo’s heart continued to leak blood at an alarming rate, faster than they could hope to replace it. She had never seen someone hold on so long, and as strong as she knew Storm was, she felt her hopes dying.
The monitors blinked several times, then once again the terrible whine of a flat line filled the room. Warren tried with all his being to push his healing energies into Ororo’s still form, but her body refused to absorb them any longer.
Xavier pulled off his cap, tears sliding down his face, which seemed to have aged a decade in the past hour. “Call it.” He said, voice choked.
“Time of death, 2:14 am.” Beast said, pulling the white, blood spattered sheet over his dear friend’s face. He turned his back, shoulders slumped, defeated.
A howl of rage and anguish such as they’d never heard before erupted from the hallway.
Jean’s shoulders shook as she sobbed helplessly, laying herself across the woman she loved like a sister.

“Are you ready then, Ororo?” N’Dare asked, holding out her hand.
“Yes. I am ready.” She grasped her mother’s outstretched hand.
Mother and daughter began floating higher, the white around them growing brighter, Ororo’s body feeling lighter. A bubble of laughter escaped her as she was awash with pure joy and wonder. She was free at last!
“AAAAUURRGGH!!!”
Ororo stopped, looking back over her shoulder. That voice. So full of hurt… Coming from the black void behind them. A void full of excruciating pain and anguish and immense suffering. She looked at the glowing form of her mother, the promise of happiness and contentment right in front of her. Ororo looked over her shoulder again, shuddering at the sight of the void. So cold and dark.
“ORORO!!!” She knew that voice, would know it anywhere. Logan. In pain, aching inside, hurting because of her. She turned her face up ,tears shimmering in her blue eyes, so much like her mother’s.
N’Dare’s hand caressed her cheek, her own eyes knowing. “It will be a painful journey. Be well, my greatest gift.” She pressed her lips to Ororo’s forehead, dissolving into a fine mist. “We love you, brave girl.”
“I love you too, Mom,” Storm said, wiping her eyes. With a deep breathe and mustering more courage than she knew she possessed Ororo threw herself into the void, where she was immediately assaulted by pain and terror, her body screaming at her for her betrayal. She relived every wound inflicted upon her, her mind feeling like it was being peeled like a ripe fruit, but still she pressed on through the cold, through the dark. She had to reach him, he was waiting for her…

“LOGAN!”
Jean and the others were thrown across the room, a wave of powerful energy bursting from the body lying on the table. Storm’s form floated up, eyes glowing brighter than the sun, lightening flying from her fingertips. Every one stood frozen, unable to summon even a breath as they watched the Storm figure in stunned disbelief . She was chanting in a language non had ever heard before, her voice echoing through time and space, her body pulling itself back together, sealing the gaping chest wound and changing her bruised skin back into it’s flawless caramel. As quickly as the powerful burst occurred it left, leaving Storm to tumble from the air. She would have crashed into the tile floor had it not been for Wolverine slashing his way through the sealed operating room doors and catching her just before collision.
Ororo turned her head into his chest, hand clenched in his shirt. “Home…” she mumbled.
“Yeah, darlin’, yer home.” His voice broke, unable to believe what he had just seen. “Yer home.”

To be continued…

Disclaimer: Resentfully I accept that I do not now, nor am I ever likely to, own these Characters. Marvel does. Life’s a bitch.


The Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York


Ororo stood overlooking the rather large lake behind the Charles’ Xavier’s Institute, a soft breeze lifting stray strands of her platinum hair causing them to dance lightly in the breeze. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was just beginning its ascension over the horizon, the sky a breathtaking blend of bright blues tinted with orange, in addition to the scent of early morning dew still clinging in the air it made for a perfect beginning to the day. Ororo inhaled deeply, savoring every sensation, running her fingertips across the dampened grass, feeling blessed to be able to do so. It had been two days since her death and resurrection and she was grateful for this morning. For every morning to come. She planned on milking each day to the fullest. ‘Live like it’s your last,’ her dear friend Yuiko always said. “I intend to, my friend. I intend to.” Her laughter echoed off the lake, a joyous sound that caused the scowling man closing in on her from behind to pause.
Logan stopped a few feet away from where Ororo stood, his heart attempting to return to its normal rhythm. He had awoken only minutes ago, having fallen asleep in the beige and green overstuffed chair that had become his second home since ‘Ro’s accident, only to find the bed where she was supposed to be laying empty. His heart had damn near busted through his adamantium laced ribcage. He looked for her throughout the entire building before deciding that there was really only one place ‘Ro would wander off to in the hours just before dawn. He had leapt from one of the school’s second story windows and loped across the wide expanse of yard, heading for the thick forest in the rear, his heart still hammering away.
Now he found her, standing at the edge of the lake, water lapping at her bare feet, her head thrown back laughing into the wind. It was a sight so welcome and breathtaking he refused to move, lest she vanish before his eyes, a dream that never was, instead of a flesh and blood woman.
“Hello, Logan.” Ororo’s voice was welcoming. She hadn’t turned around to greet him, but she instinctively knew he was there, moving towards her with that deceptively lazy and arrogant swagger of his.
“You should be in bed.” His voice was a gruff command, but she heard the worried tenderness beneath.
She gave him a look over her shoulder. “I have spent far too much time in bed of late, Logan. I must confess I find it exceedingly boring.”
“Here.” He wrapped his beaten brown leather coat around her shoulders. She opened her mouth to remind him that she never got cold, but refrained, enjoying the warmth and scent of him that lingered in the threads of the well worn garment. She simply smiled in thanks, blue eyes twinkling.
Logan scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling uncertain. She had a way about her, looking at him like she could see right through him, down into his very soul. In fact the first thing he had ever noticed about ‘Ro were her eyes. The rest of her was gorgeous as hell, too, you’d have to be dead and buried not to notice those long shapely legs, curvy hips that swayed just-so when she walked, firm backside and a pair of the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen. But it was her eyes that captivated you and held you; so bold and beautiful, shades of the sky, always shifting always changing. Whenever she was serious they were deep cerulean blue and when she laughed the shades swirled, becoming the color of a warm afternoon’s sky and still other times, when she was well and truly pissed, they turned into hard, cold blue chips of ice. Her eyes had initially caught his attention, but it was her indelible spirit, her iron will and faith in all that was good in the world…all the good she saw in him, that captured his heart.
Without speaking Ororo stepped towards him until they were separated by only their clothing and the early morning fog rolling in from the lake. “’Ro…” Logan cradled her face in his large hands. Hands that had killed countless people, done ruthless things, things he couldn’t remember and some things he would never forget. Buried beneath the rugged knuckles lay razor sharp blades, capable of slicing a man in half, covered in so much blood that suddenly he felt unworthy to touch her. As if sensing his withdrawal Ororo placed her hands on his wrists keeping him locked to her. His breath rushed past his lips, as she breathed, “I came back for you.”
Their mouths came together hungrily, drawn together by the primal force of their passion, no longer to be denied. With a growl Logan pulled her closer to him, tangling his fingers deep into the silken mass of her hair, groaning as she twined her arms around his neck, giving herself up to his devouring lips. He pulled back slightly, his mouth still brushing her damp, swollen lips. “I’ve dreamt of this,” he confessed softly.
“I take that to mean had I not come back, you would have missed me.”
“No.” He said, tilting her head so that she was looking directly into his eyes. “I would’ve followed ya, ‘Ro. Ta hell and back if need be, “ his gaze was intense.
“Logan-” Ororo’s hand reached out, long slender fingers caressing the stubble of his jaw, her eyes deepening to a shade he had never seen before. She was just too tempting. Logan molded his lips to hers once more, teeth nipping against her full bottom lip, eliciting a delicious moan from her. Her fingers pushed through the ebony thickness of his hair, pulling gently. He grunted his approval, tasting her mouth more deeply, his tongue sliding past her lips.
“’Ro,” he murmured into her mouth.
“Hmm?” her velvety reply.
“Wanna put us back on the ground?”
“Oh, my- I am so sorry.” Ororo felt heat flooding her face as she realized they were floating several feet in the air. Gently she lowered herself and Logan back to the ground. “I got so carried away.”
Logan decided he liked this side of Storm, her blush was an unexpected surprise and pleasure. Sometimes she was so intimidating and authoritative a person could forget she was a woman. He liked the idea of reminding her. Frequently.
“You and me both, darlin’.” He put his arm around her waist, leading her back towards the mansion. “As much as I’m enjoying myself, you really do need t’ getchyer butt back ta bed.”
Ororo rolled her eyes. “You worry too much.”
“Well, that’s one I’ve never been accused of before.”
They walked back to the Institute in companionable silence, both minds reliving the intense kiss shared by the lake. Ororo wondering if he had kissed her out of relief that she was alive? Out of friendship? Logan wondering if he had pushed too fast? Too soon?
Too soon, hell, bub, ya were almost too late! His mind bellowed. He surprised Storm when he suddenly stopped walking, effectively halting her as well.
“Lo-? Mmmm.” He slid his hands down her waist, cradling her hips, kissing her again for all he was worth. When they broke apart, both were shaking, trying to catch their breathes.
“I want ya Ororo Munroe, want ya more than I’ve ever wanted anybody. Anybody.” he emphasized. “ And I’m willin’ to wait fer ya to accept that, or tell me t’ go fuck myself, but know that I ain’t going anywhere ‘til you tell me too. We clear.”
Ororo was silent for a moment, causing him a moment of anxiety. “Funny. That is almost exactly what I was going to say to you,” she said at last. Logan grinned so wide the dimples in his cheeks showed.
“Were ya now?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Most definitely.” She started to sag against him.
“’Ro?”
“Sorry. Not as strong as I thought I was. No I told you so’s please,” she said with a smile.
Logan said nothing, simply placed his arm under her legs and lifted her against him. When she began to protest he hushed her with a kiss, telling her in his most menacing growl to shut up.
Once they arrived at her attic loft Logan slipped his jacket from her shoulders, tossing it onto the beige and green chair he had vacated less than thirty minutes ago. Ororo began to shrug out of the white robe she had slipped on for her early morning meeting with the dawn, pausing to look at Logan with uncertainty. She had never been overly modest about her body, nor was she one to flaunt her nakedness in front of others. But now in front of this man she found herself worried about any scars Sabertooth’s attack may have made on her flesh. She had not bothered to examine herself earlier, never having been a vain woman and never really caring what others thought of her. But suddenly, she wanted to be beautiful- for him. She didn’t know what to do.
Logan sensed her unease and it drew him to her. Without a word his rough fingertips skimmed her flawless face, traveled down her arms, wrapped around the knot at her waist and with a deft pull, unknotted her belt, the sides of her robe falling open, revealing everything to his hungry gaze. She closed her eyes, turning away, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Her eyes flew open when she felt his lips at her chin, licking the salty essence from her, his hands pushing the robe completely off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.
“Beautiful,” his voice was sinfully dark and husky. With exquisite tenderness he traced the lines of the faint scar she bore directly over her heart, its shape reminding him of a bolt of lightening. He knew she wouldn’t bear the mark long, because like him Ororo’s mutant genes made it near impossible for her to scar permanently, but it served as a reminder for him. A reminder of how very close he came to never having a moment like this with her. Logan kissed her suddenly- hard and long, his hands pressing her against him as closely as possible. He needed her, needed to taste her, needed to hold her, needed to be held, and he needed to know she was his.
“Let’s tuck you in.” He broke away, guiding her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and settled her on them. “Comfy?”
Ororo nodded, not trusting her voice after a kiss like that. “Good,” he said. Logan pulled his boots off, removed his shirt and jeans until he stood before her clad in only a pair of smiley face boxers. She raised one winged eyebrow.
“Don’t ask.” He grumbled. “They were a gift from Jubilee.”
“Oh.”
“Was that a giggle, darlin’? So help me--” he said in mock threat. He slid under the soft white comforter, pulling her into his warm embrace. She rested her head on his chest, long legs twined with his, her hand resting over the steady drum of his heart.
“I really should tell the Professor--”
“Sleep now,” Logan interrupted. “there’ll be time for the other stuff later.” His hand caressed the swirls of her ear. Ororo let out a content sigh, fully asleep in moments. Logan breathed in her welcome scent, letting himself enjoy the feel of her naked flesh against his and for the first time that he could remember he felt utterly at peace. “Sleep well, babe. I’ll be here when ya wake up. Always.” He pressed his lips to her hair, eyes falling shut, a smile on his face and the woman he loved in his arms. He didn’t deserve it, but he’d take it, and heaven help anyone who tried to take her away from him again.

New York
The Xavier Institute for the Gifted


Ororo Munroe jerked awake, breathing labored, hair damp with sweat.
“Easy, darlin’. I gotchya… easy.” Wolverine’s graveled voice rumbled beneath her ear, his hands soothing her tangled hair, his lips whispering against her temple. In response she buried her face into his muscled chest, hiding her tear-filled eyes, struggling to return her breathing to normal. She had been dreaming, if you could call it that. Dreaming of being chased by cloaked figures, darkness and cold swirling all around her. She was searching for someone, someone she loved. The dark demons were trying to take them away from her and no matter how fast she had tried to run her legs had been molasses, unable to move. Then she had seen Remy, laughing with her, warming her heart, her dearest friend, her brother and only confidant. He was smiling at her, dark eyes alight with mischief and merriment, so close she could almost touch him, then just before she could reach him a dark figure enveloped him, stealing him away from her, leaving her bereft in his absence.
“Logan.” So strong, so bold. Her fearless friend, her protector, her deepest love and truest heart. She clutched his hair in her hands, her body trembling with repressed emotions.
“Let it out,” he whispered, hands stroking the smooth skin of her back. “It’s all right, baby, let it out.”
With a clap of thunder violent enough to shake the Institute to its rocky foundation Ororo Munroe screamed her rage and hurt, her sadness and broken heart. Her shoulder’s shook with the terrible sobs wracking her slender frame, her voice ragged and broken as she cried and cried and cried. Wind howled, clouds swirled, branches slammed against the windows and great fat drops of silver rain fell.
Through the tempest Logan held her, murmuring soft meaningless sounds of comfort against her hair, his hands never ceasing their soothing rhythm along her back and shoulders. He held her until her sobs slowed to hiccups and sniffles, he held her as the rain slowly receded, murmuring softly all the while. They stayed that way for a long time, her face pressed tightly against his chest, his arms circling her waist, holding her as though he’d never let her go; they stayed like that until there was nothing but the sound of her deep breaths against his tearstained skin.
“Thank you.” she whispered. Logan said nothing, there was no need. Storm yawned once, already falling back to sleep, fingers still clutched in his midnight hair. He wiped the back of his hand across his damp eyes, cursing the good fer nothing’ cajun, that caused her so much heartache, and cursing himself for not being able to protect her from it.

Several Hours Later

“How many more tests ya gonna run on her?”
Hank McCoy, lovingly referred to as Beast by his fellow X-Men, refrained from answering the grumbling mutant beside him. He instead busied himself, drawing a syringe of blood from Ororo’s outstretched arm. It was early afternoon and they had been deep beneath the Mansion in the med-lab for the past several hours. Hank blotted Ororo’s pinprick with a cotton swab before applying a Spiderman band aid. She grinned at him.
“Logan, relax. I feel fine.” Ororo said, turning to him with a reproachful look. She rolled down the sleeve of her lavender blouse, a color Logan had always admired her in.
“Yeah, well as far as I’m concerned ya should still be resting.”
“Goddess, Logan, if you had your way I would never leave the bed.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Got that right, darlin’.”
Storm blushed profusely, looking at her feet. Hank cleared his throat. “We should have these results back in the morning and Jean should be down any moment with the results of your MRI and CAT scans.” Hank couldn’t keep his grin contained. “It is good to have you back, dear Storm,” he said giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“I wholeheartedly concur.” With a hiss the double doors slid open allowing for Charles Xavier and Jean Grey to enter the room. Both were dressed in white lab coats. “I must confess, child, you certainly know how to scare decades off a man.” Xavier reached for her hand, squeezing fondly.
“Charles.” Ororo bounced off the table she had been sitting on, much to the consternation of Wolverine, and hugged her mentor.
“Take it easy, will ya, ‘Ro.” Logan said, a dark frown on his face.
“Honestly, Logan, you can relax. I am quite all right I assure you.”
“Well, make this old man feel better and take a seat wouldya.” He pushed a rolling stool towards her. She pushed it right back.
“Ro.” He rumbled. She gave him a disgruntled look, but sat down on the stool when he offered it to her again. As if fearing she would jump up and do a jig Logan kept his hands placed firmly on her shoulders, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she let herself lean into him, until her back was pressed against his center, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body as it seeped into her. Absently he stroked his thumb along her collar bone.
If anyone in the room thought the interaction between Storm and Wolverine odd they kept it to themselves. Hank raised a questioning eyebrow towards Jean, who merely smiled, pulling out two floppy pieces of film, lining them up against the projection screen. A frown began to form on her face. “Professor?”
“Yes Jean?”
“Have you seen this?”
Logan immediately tensed at the note of concern he detected in Jean’s voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded.
Charles studied the films in front of him, then turned to the computer on his right, fingers rapidly punching keys.
“Would one of ya tell us what’s goin’ on.” No response from Jean or Xavier, both studying whatever was flashing on the computer screen intently.
“Charles?” Ororo questioned.
Xavier swiveled his chair around so that he was between her and the projection screen. “Nothing is wrong, per se.” he began. He rolled closer to her, staring at her in a curious manner. He pulled out a penlight, flashing into her eyes in rapid succession. Seemingly satisfied with the results, he turned to Jean. “Place the images on main view please, Dr. Grey.”
Jean did as told, dimming the lights in the room and taking a seat besides Ororo. “See these areas in red over here.” Xavier asked, pointing to one of the films with a laser pointer, highlighting an area Storm’s brain image that was spotted with red and yellow.
When everyone nodded, he directed their attention to the other film. “This Magnetic Resonance Imaging picture was done two years ago as part of your standard physical, Ororo. Notice the difference?”
Ororo looked from one to the other, realizing that the area that was bright red and yellow in her current picture was a deep purple color in the previous image. “What does it mean?” she asked.
“I am not entirely certain. This area of the brain is a type of subconscious, a normally dormant part of the brain that is rarely, if ever, active.” Xavier explained. “This new activity does not necessarily mean anything, as of yet I can only determine this as an anomaly, nothing serious. We’ll run a few more tests in a couple of days, but until then I would rather you refrain from active duty.”
“But Charles-”
“You heard the man ‘Ro. No active duty.”
“You’ll be back in the field before you know it,” Jean said. “Take some time to recuperate, and relax. You’ve been through enough.”
Ororo said nothing, but beneath his hands Logan felt her shoulder’s stiffen. She was a proud woman, and wasn’t gonna take kindly to being benched. But in his mind it was for the best. She was still recovering physically from her ordeal, not to mention the emotional toll this had all taken on her. Rest and relaxation were the best things for her, and he’d make damn sure that she got plenty of both.
“We’re all set here, Ororo. I will let you know how your blood work comes out.” Hank said, closing the manila folder that was her X-Men medical file. “Until then I suggest you go and enjoy the day well it‘s still enjoyable. By chance, did anyone else catch that freak thunderstorm early this morning?”
“Nope.” Wolverine looked pointedly at Hank. “Can’t say that we did.” He helped Ororo to her feet. “Hungry, darlin’?”
“Famished. Race you to the kitchen,” she suggested.
“Don’t think so. We’ll walk up together, nice and slow. Yer gonna take it easy if I have at watch ev’ry move ya make.”
“You are a real pain in the a-”
“’Ro-” a warning.
“As you wish.” She smiled cheekily at him. He swatted her backside as they exited the med-lab.
Once they were in the kitchen Logan began preparing his famous triple decker southwestern sandwich. They kept an easy conversation between them, each washing and slicing the various peppers needed for his salsa topping. As the spicy scent of Habanera reached her Ororo gasped, saying “I think that just may kill me.”
“Naw. Put’s hair on yer chest.”
She looked at him, eyebrows quirked.
“Storm!!” Kathrine ”Kitty” Pryde phazed through the kitchen’s swinging doors, her face alight, heading straight for Ororo.
“Hello, Kitten.” She gave the young woman a welcoming smile, eyes glowing. She grunted as Kitty flung her arms about her zealously.
“Easy, Kitty.” Wolverine admonished.
He was pretty close to Kitty and knew she was even closer to ‘Ro. When the students had been informed of Storm’s condition Kitty had taken the news harder than anyone. She had closed herself off in her room, crying and beating her pillows until they were unrecognizable masses of mutilated cotton and stuffing. To see her now you would have thought she had won the lottery.
“You’re really all right?” Kitty asked hurriedly. “You’re gonna be okay?” She looked Storm up and down as if checking for wounds. “Shouldn’t you be laying down?”
“Not you too,” Ororo groaned.
“That’s what I’ve been tellin’ her,” Logan said at the same time.
“Wow. I am so happy!” Kitty hugged her again. “I mean when the Professor told us to expect the worst-” Kitty shuddered. “Don’t wanna go there.” She watched Wolverine fill the frying pan with an assortment of sliced meats and what looked like a pound of butter, saying, “There go your arteries.”
“Take a breath,” said Logan.
“What? Right. So what’s the deal with Gambit, huh? Rogue says he turned all traitor and stuff.” Kitty popped a piece of Monterey jack into her mouth.
The knife Ororo had been using to chop onions fell from her suddenly numb fingers.
“Kitty!” Wolverine growled.
“What? Oh- Oh, hey, Storm I didn’t mean to bring that up. I’m sorry.” She looked at Wolverine’s scowling face. “I really am.”
“You did nothing wrong, Kitten.” Ororo picked up the knife and laid it carefully on the counter. “If you will both excuse me I believe I am going to have a little chat with Rogue.”
“Hold up, darlin’.” Logan stepped in front of her. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. She’s still pretty upset over the whole thing.”
“So? That does not give her the right to call Remy a traitor.”
“No. His tryin’ t’ sell ya to the big bads does!” Logan snarled. He couldn’t believe she was actually defending that snake in the grass.
“Are you serious?” Ororo demanded incredulously. “Did we brand her a traitor when she left him in Antarctica to die? No. Did we turn our backs on Jean when the Phoenix took her over, costing over five billion people their lives. Were they any less significant because they were from an alien world, Logan? No. But we accepted Jean back and Rogue. And you! You have pushed us away more times than any one member of this team, coming and leaving as you see fit. Fighting with Scott, sleeping with his wife! For crying out loud Logan we’ve all made mistakes. Every one of us!” She was holding the front of his shirt now, hands clenched in tight fists. “He is my friend, and a wise man once said to me: A friend is someone who knows your own personal song, and is there to sing it for you when you forget it. Remy has forgotten his song, Logan, and we need to sing it for him.”
Wolverine was silent for a moment, struck dumb by the vehemence of her voice, the passionate snapping of her eyes. “What moron told you that?” he rumbled after his stunned disbelief evaporated beneath the white hot burn of his anger.
“You did.”
“When the hell have ya ever listen’d t’me?” His voice had lowered to dangerous level. Upon hearing it Kitty slid back through the wall, squeaking a quick “See ya later.” out as she went.
“Huff and puff all you want, Logan. I am not afraid of your bark.” Her eyes swirled to cloudy white, snips of electricity darting out of them. He bared his teeth, she smiled. He leapt at her, she opened her arms. He pressed her close, she pressed closer.
“Ah, God, darlin’, you make me crazy.” He claimed her mouth in a savagely tender kiss. He felt her warm hands slid over his black T-shirt, arms circling his neck. He deepened the kiss, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth, a taste like no other, intoxicating and overwhelming. He could feel the feral part of him responding to her, and he pulled back. She blinked up at him, innocent seductress.
“Your meat is burning.” she said languorously.
“You have no idea,” he growled. She laughed, a genuine ripple of delight, tapping his shoulder and pointing to the smoking frying pan on the stove.
“Oh, shit!” He jumped back to the stove, yanking the pan from the burner. “You think this is funny?” he shot over his shoulder as she continued to laugh.
“A bit, yes.” She confessed tossing her glorious mane over her shoulder. She looked so beautiful sitting there at the counter, sunlight glinting off her hair, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth, that he had to take a calming breath to keep his heart from skipping. He glanced down at the blackened slices of meat caked onto the pan.
“Takeout?”
“Takeout.”

Disclaimer: Don’t own. Wanna own . Don’t own.


Xavier Institute
Westchester New York



“I think its sweet the way he’s so protective,” Ororo’s best friend said, plugging a curling iron into the socket beside the mirrored vanity. They were in Ororo‘s attic loft, preparing for a celebratory dinner in honor of Storm‘s recovery. Their current topic of conversation was Wolverine, a topic Ororo had been trying to avoid, but Jean had doggedly pursued. “I mean you did just almost die, Ororo. Can’t blame the guy for being a little overzealous.”
“Died.” Ororo corrected absently, pulling a long, slinky black dress from the back of her closet.
“Excuse me?”
“Died, Jean. I did not almost die, I died. I remember everything.” Ororo laid the garment across the bed. Yes, that would do nicely, she thought.
“You remember dying?” Jean was staring at her like she had grown two heads.
“Of course. It is not something one does everyday, it tends to stick with you.”
“Trust me, Ororo, I know. I’ve done it a few times myself. Let’s face it , I do it so often it’s almost an annual rotation. But not once have I ever remembered the experience. You do?”
“Yes. But if you do not mind, I would rather discuss it another time, sister.” Ororo said, rubbing her temples. Her head was beginning to throb.
Jean was momentarily overwhelmed by a feeling of trepidation, and approached her friend with concern. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe we should postpone the celebration.”
“No, I am fine, a bit weary from the days events is all. I am certain I will feel much better after a hot bath.”
Jean seemed unconvinced, but refrained from saying so. She instead smiled and said, “You should wear your black strappy heels with that dress.” Ororo grinned, having already pulled them from the closet. “What is they say about great minds” Jean teased. Their warm laughter and friendly chatter filled the sun drenched loft as they continued getting ready for the party and soon Jean forgot all about the feeling of unease that had settled over her.


Downstairs

“What do you suppose is keeping them?” Warren asked Scott and Logan as he approached from the dining hall where he and the others were awaiting the arrival of their guest of honor.
“Oh, you know women.” Scott said. “Curl this, paint that.”
Logan said nothing, his eyes on the staircase, waiting for ‘Ro to emerge. He hadn’t seen her in a few hours, and was beginning to wonder if she was ever coming down. He was about to climb up to her room and make sure she was all right when two slender silhouettes made their way to the top of the stairs.
Jean looked exceedingly lovely in her dark green sleeveless dress, flaming hair pulled in an elegant French knot but it was Ororo who held all three men riveted as she descended the staircase. Her hair was piled atop her head in organized disarray, held in place by an ornate black Japanese comb that Logan recognized as his Christmas gift to her some years ago, several snowy tendrils dancing over her shoulder. She was wearing a long black dress that clung to her body in all the right places, emphasizing the generous swell of her breasts and flat stomach. Thin spaghetti straps hugging her graceful shoulders, silk train flowing down to the floor in a ripple of shadow. Logan caught a flash of perfect mocha leg through the thigh high slit of her dress with each step she took.
Jean made some comment to her and Ororo turned to her friend revealing her gown’s extraordinarily low cut, open back, and the silken texture of her bare skin.
--SNIKT--
Wolverine’s claws popped out of his knuckles, his body’s involuntary reaction to her sensual appearance. Warren and Scott looked at him. He growled, forcibly retracting his claws.
“Perfectly understandable,” Warren said, clearing his throat. “Is it hot in here or is it just her? I mean, me…just me?”
Wolverine glowered at him. He strode to the bottom of the staircase, holding his hand out for Ororo as she reached the last step. “Yer breathtaking’ darlin’.” he said with genuine appreciation, eyes traveling up and down her feminine form, lingering in all the places any red blooded man would linger.
Ororo smiled, sliding her hand into his. “Thank you, Logan. You look rather handsome yourself.” He did at that, she mused. Dark coat over a snug black shirt and form fitting black pants, dark eyes glittering hungrily at her, his wild unruly hair giving him a ‘just rolled out of bed’, rakish air. Her heartbeat had increased two fold at the sight of him, her mind instantly remembering the feel of his strong arms around her, the tickle of his crisp chest hair against her cheek and the warm feeling she got in the pit of her stomach when he kissed her. If not for Jean’s comment that all three men looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi, Ororo would have stayed in her reverie for the rest of the evening.
“Shall we?” Scott said, linking his arm through his wife’s and leading the way to the dining hall.
Once there Warren pulled the doors open with flourish, giving Ororo a polished bow as she passed. Wolverine snarled a warning to the other man, whose gaze remained momentarily locked with Storm’s backside. Warren had keen instincts when it came to self preservation and immediately lifted his eyes from their resting place.
“Good decision,” Betsy Braddock said with a wink as she stepped beside him, hand gliding down his wing. Warren returned Betsy’s wink, settling his arm across her shoulders, following Scott, Jean , Logan and Ororo into the room.
Immediately upon Ororo’s entrance the room erupted into loud applause, and as she moved through the room several whistles. She was unbelievably moved by her friends thoughtfulness, and obvious affection. The room was packed with her fellow X-Men and several students of the school, everyone of them standing and clapping.
“I do not know what to say. This is lovely.” She told Charles when he reached their sides. The room was lit by several hanging chandeliers, tables covered with beautiful silk clothes, crystal glasses and champagne in the center of them all.
“You are not required to say anything, Ororo. This is a celebration in your honor, all you have to do is enjoy it.” Charles replied.
“And enjoy it I shall.” She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh, thought Logan. She needed this, needed to be reminded of the friends she still had, the ones who loved her, the ones that hadn’t betrayed her trust. He clenched his jaw against his immediate anger, the same anger that rose every time Gumbo crossed his mind. He stifled it, intent on making tonight about ‘Ro, and only about ‘Ro. They took their seats beside Charles at the head table.
Charles tapped his glass, gaining the attention of all in the room. He held his glass in the air, towards Ororo as he spoke to the room, saying, “I was once very far away from my home, in a country that I had never before been in, traveling the world searching for others like me, for fellow mutants. Searching with only a vague design of the ideals that would later become the dream we all share today. What I found on this journey was a young pickpocket with a laughing spirit and tenacious determination, who became the living embodiment of my dream. Over the years I have learned many things from observing our beloved windrider. Ororo has taught me that everyone dreams, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was only an illusion, but the dreamers of the day, like her, are dangerous, for they act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible. So I want to say thank you, Ororo. Thank you for your inspiration, thank you for your strength, thank you for your courage and thank you above all else, for your unwavering loyalty.”
A rousing cheer followed Xavier’s speech, glasses raised high as the hall echoed with “Here-here’s”. Ororo was incredibly touched by Charles’ words and her teammates overwhelming response. Before the room was overcome by blubbering emotions Beast said, “Now that our appetites have been sufficiently whet with emotional fodder, I suggest we partake of our dinners before they get too cold to enjoy.” Another round of here-here’s.
The meal progressed quickly, good conversation and laughter making the night move swiftly, and soon the champagne was flowing freely, “Time to turn this motha out!” Bobby Drake shouted, flying past their table on one of his ice-slides. His proclamation was met by several exuberant cheers. Jubilee hit the boom box she had brought in, sending a loud thumping rhythm through the room. Colossus and Sam began sliding tables to the walls, making a dance space on the floor.
“I believe that is my cue to exit,” Charles said, rolling away from the table. “I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, Ororo, but you look stunning this evening.” His voice held fatherly esteem and pride.
“Thank you, Charles. Do you really have to leave?” Ororo asked, holding onto his hand. She was loathe for him to go, enjoying his company, a privilege that was rare these busy days.
“I’m afraid I have a tremendous amount of work to do in the morning. You, however, should enjoy yourself. This is, after all, your party. See that she has a good evening, won’t you , Logan.”
Wolverine raised one dark eyebrow. Good ole Chuck, didn’t miss a thing. “Sure thing, Chuck. My pleasure.”
“Another drink?” Warren asked, tilting the champagne bottle and pouring into Ororo’s glass before she responded. She smiled, raised her glass and sipped the bubbly liquid. “Mmmm. This is quite good. You should try some, Logan.”
“No thanks, darlin’. I don’t do the sissy drinks.” His gaze rested on Scott who was in the process of swallowing a mouthful of what Logan had called a “sissy drink”.
“You're a dick.” Scott said.
“Charmer.” Wolverine smiled wolfishly, baring his fangs.
“Boys.” Jean’s voice echoed in their minds, as well as in their ears. She gave Ororo a confidential look, saying, “The more I’m around men the more I like dogs.”
“Much cuter,” Betsy agreed.
“And cleaner,” Kitty said coming from behind.
“Far more loyal,” came Rogue’s response. Ororo turned in her chair, watching the other woman approach through narrowed eyes. There was no doubt she was a lovely creature, with her gentle appearance, soft auburn hair and chocolate eyes, but Storm knew better than anyone appearances were simply that. They never revealed what lay beneath the surface, the skin of a lemon very similar to that of an orange, but the inside made all the difference.
“The question of loyalty could be raised with women as well,” Storm said, voice hard. “I do not believe loyalty is gender specific.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Logan said, “I’m gonna scrounge us up some brews!”
Ororo smiled thinking , “Tactful as ever, Wolverine, you are the heart and soul of diplomacy.”
Rogue stood away from the table, a little uncertain . Despite her initial anger Ororo knew that Rogue was hurting too and it pained her to think she may play a part in that pain. She indicated Logan’s vacated chair. “Join us,” she invited.
“Ya sure?”
Ororo pushed the chair out further. “Positive. Come, join us in our debauchery!”
“You know what goes great with debauchery?” Jean asked.
"More debauchery!" The girls laughed in unison. Cyclops and Warren exchanged confused glances, but decided against questioning the girls weird credo, lest they remember they enjoyed the company of dogs more than they enjoyed them.
When Logan returned to the dining hall Ororo wasn’t seated at the head table, instead he saw her in the center of the room, body swaying and dancing to the music in lithe movements and perfect rhythm. She looked so inconceivably sexy his claws almost extended again, but he kept himself in check. Barely. She hadn’t noticed his return and he took the time to observe her, snapping open one of his beers, leaning against the wall, half concealed in shadow. Her skin seemed to glow under the soft lights of the chandeliers, her eyes closed, luscious lips spread wide in a smile. She looked incredibly young. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember she was only twenty-six, she seemed ageless, wise beyond her years. Years of fending for yourself and fighting off enemies since you were five years old would do that, he supposed.
If he were to try and describe ‘Ro in a nutshell, he would have to say silken smoothness over wrought steel. An enigma, a goddess amongst mortals, a true friend and quite possibly the only person to see him as he was, right down to the dark depths of his soul, and not flinch away. Instead she was always there, her velvety voice a soothing balm in the face of his snarling rage, her laughter medicine to his wounded soul, her spirit--that wonderful free spirit--a match for his own. He loved her, loved her like he could love no other. She was his heart, his breath, his soul. He would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew that.
Ororo felt a ripple of awareness travel down her spine only moments before strong arms enveloped her from behind, warm lips trailing kisses along the skin between her neck and shoulder. She turned slightly, looking at Logan through thick lashes, their lips a breath away from each other, her body still moving to the music.
Logan growled deep in his throat. “Yer so damn beautiful,” his heated voice rumbled as he turned her so that she was molded against him.
“Dance with me,” she whispered. Without hesitation Logan began to move with her, bodies brushing every so often, eyes locked, hands caressing.
Several of the other X-Men’s mouths gaped open at the sight of their resident goddess wrapped in the arms of their most feral warrior.
“Wolverine’s dancing for crying out loud!” Bobby said, gaze unbelieving.
“And he’s dancing with Storm!” Jubilee said, stating the obvious.
“Holy Crap!” Was all Kitty said.
On the other side of the dance floor Scott looked at his wife, asking, “What’s up with Wolverine and Storm?”
Jean glanced over her shoulder at the couple so enthralled with each other they seemed oblivious to the commotion they were causing. “I believe they are falling in love. Would probably be there already if not for all the interruptions they‘ve had.”
Scott looked like he swallowed a bug. “Storm thinks she‘s in love with Wolverine?”
“Not thinks, Scott. Is. Same with him. Very much so.”
Scott shook his head, disbelieving. “Nope. It’s her head, it isn’t right. Momentary insanity, nothing more, nothing less.”
Jean scrunched her nose. “He is rather lovable when you get past the rage, killing instinct and razor sharp claws.” Her comment caused Scott to tense.
“You would know.” His voice was cold. “I think I’ll go get a drink. Excuse me, Jean.” He stalked off the makeshift dance floor without looking back. Maybe if he had he would’ve seen the look of anguish that crossed his wife’s face, or the red flames that blazed momentarily in her green eyes. But he didn’t, he kept walking-- past the tables, through the doors and out of the Mansion.

The party was still going full swing when Wolverine pulled Ororo from the dining hall, leading her towards the stairway up to her loft. “Have to get you alone, darlin’. Yer driving me insane with wantin’.” He had whispered in her ear moments before practically dragging her into her room. He slammed the door behind them, a clear do not disturb to anyone foolish enough to follow.
He approached her much like a lion stalking its prey. Her breath quickened and he could smell her anticipation, her desire. His hands caught her face, tracing the strong line of her jaw, traveling across her neck, down to her smooth skinned shoulders. -Snikt- He cut through the thin straps of her dress, causing it to slide down her body in a ripple of black silk, leaving her gloriously naked save for her black high heels. God bless her aversion to underwear, he thought. She presented such an erotic picture Logan worried he wouldn’t be able to keep the animal side of himself in check. He, who had been with countless women, suddenly trembled beneath her blue-eyed gaze.
“Logan.” A voice that reminded him of smoky rooms and satin sheets. A voice suited for a seductress, a sex goddess, an angel.
Ororo shivered, but not with cold, or fear, but with longing. Some distant part of her mind recognized that she had been waiting for this moment, with this man, for what felt like an eternity. She watched with avid fascination as he shrugged out of his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head impatiently, fumbled with the buckle of his belt, finally lowering his pants, kicking them and his boots off at the same time. He started to lower his boxers when she put her hands over his.
“There is something you should know. I have never been with anybody before,” she said softly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, a sign of uncharacteristic nervousness.
Logan’s head shot up. “Forge?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
Ororo shook her head. “It was one of our biggest problems. One of the reasons he believed I did not love him. He asked me to leave the X-Men. I could not. So, he left me.”
“The man was a fool,” Logan said, voice harsh. She had been betrayed by so many of the men in her life, it was a wonder she was willing to be with anyone, least of all a man like him. “Of course ya couldn’ leave the team. Anyone who knows ya would know yer heart is with the X-Men.”
“True. But team obligation is not why I did not leave with Forge. He was right, I did not love him. My heart belonged to another, still does.”
This time Logan tensed, not a muscle moving. “Ya tryin’ at tell me somethin’ here, ‘Ro?” Did she love someone else? He wasn’t sure he could bear that.
Ororo‘s voice was soft but intense when she spoke, her bright blue eyes staring straight into his dark black ones. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember, Logan. I will always love you, no matter what lies ahead, no matter what destiny has in store for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I wanted you to know before we went any farther. I do not wish to disappoint you. If you wish to leave, I will unders--”
Wolverine crushed her mouth beneath his, unable to believe what his ears had heard, what his hammering heart was pounding into his blood: “She loves me, She loves me, She loves me.” He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past her pliable lips, entering the sweet recess of her mouth.
Ororo sighed, her eyes drifted shut, arms finding their familiar place around his neck, a soft moan escaping as he moved his mouth to her neck. Warm lips, wet tongue swirling against her soft flesh, so tender in his ministrations making the breath catch in her throat. Outside thunder rolled across the sky.
Logan lifted her effortlessly, laying her down on her white ivy trimmed comforter with tender reverence. He followed closely, mouth closing securely over hers once more. He took his time, making the kisses count, nibbling, sucking and licking, eliciting the most delicious sounds from deep within the throat of his normally reserved goddess.
Ororo clutched his shoulders, her breath coming in quick pants, body tensed. Logan shifted position, sliding down her body, covering one breast with his warm hand, and the other with his hot mouth. Ororo moaned, delighting in the exquisite sensations his seduction sent through her. “Goddess, Logan, you make me feel wonderful,” she breathed.
“That’s the intent, love.” His hands traveled over her flat stomach, pausing before skimming the triangle of snow at the juncture of her shapely thighs. Ororo’s response was immediate and gratifying, her body arching against him, seeking his touch. “Easy, darlin’. We’ve got all night.” Lightening lit the sky.
“Logan, please…” Her hands clutched her bedding involuntarily when she felt Logan’s mouth pressing soft kisses against her stomach, trailing lazily over the heated flesh.
“Open fer me, darlin’.” He gently pushed her legs apart, fitting himself snugly between them. “Relax, fer me. That’s my girl.”
Hot breath fanned Ororo’s most sensitive area, followed by the feel of Logan’s moist mouth and swirling tongue. “By the Bright Lady!” Her back arched, body taught as a bow. Thunder cracked, lightening flashed.
Logan chuckled against her soft skin. Who knew she would be so responsive? He pressed his tongue deep inside, lapping up her glorious taste, reveling in her unique scent. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling against the roots, almost savagely. He still did not cease his torture, gently sucking on her hidden pearl.
“LOGAN!!” Ororo’s orgasm was a sight to behold. Her body trembled beneath his mouth’s skillful onslaught, wind whipping around the room, her eyes glowing white in the dark, skin flushed a rosy hue, roll after roll of thunder rumbling across the night sky. “Oh my…” She said breathily. “I had no idea.”
“And fer that, I’m very thankful,” Logan said, slipping his boxers off, settling himself once more between legs slick with the evidence of her first release. He lined himself up with her opening, forcibly refraining from thrusting into her with the savage desire he felt. Instead he kissed her, deeply and held her hands high above her head. “I don’t wanna hurt ya,” he panted. Desire bringing the animal in him dangerously close to the surface. As if sensing his inner struggle Ororo gave him a sultry smile, locked her legs around his hips and thrust herself against him, effectively impaling herself upon his turgid manhood. He groaned in ecstasy, closing his eyes.
“I love you,” she said when he began to move slowly within her. Sliding in and out of her tight sheathe with barely controlled movements. Logan could feel the blood pounding throughout his body, the animal screaming for release.
“Logan, look at me.” He opened his eyes. She arched her hips beneath him, taking him all the way inside. His body began to tremble, fighting to remain in control. He would have been able to, he was almost sure of it, had she not said in that bedroom voice of hers, “Don’t hold, back. Not with me, Logan. Don’t hold back.”
With a feral growl he let himself go, claws extending and retracting in sync with the thrusts of his hips. He buried his head in the soft hollow between her neck and shoulder, teeth sinking into the tender flesh, drawing blood. He tasted the coppery essence, but instead of impeding his mounting climax, it only fed the animal inside and his thrusts became harder, faster, harder, faster. He felt it building and building until he came with such shuddering force he felt as though he was pouring his very soul deep inside of her. “
“’Ro?” his breathing was ragged. “ Are ya all right?” No response. He lifted his head, worry etched on his ruggedly handsome face. She was smiling. A smile so full of love and tenderness for a moment he couldn’t speak. “Ya all right?”
She touched his grizzled cheek, eyes wide. “You love me,” she breathed.
Logan turned his face into her hand, kissing her palm. “Yeah. I love ya,” he murmured. “Like no other.” Realizing his 400 pound adamantium filled body was still laying over her, he flipped them so that she lay sprawled over him. Logan pulled her down and kissed her, needed to kiss her. She pulled back, teeth nipping his lower lip.
“That was amazing,” she said. “I had no idea it was like that.”
“Honestly, ‘Ro, neither did I.” He traced her lips with one blunt finger tip. “That was a first for me too.” His face darkened when he saw the bite marks he left along the tender skin between her shoulder and neck. He traced the outline of his fanged teeth, his eyes losing some of their light.
“Don’t.” Ororo said. She touched the marks he had left on her with what seemed like reverence. “Do not withdraw from me like that. This was beautiful. We were beautiful, Logan. And these marks are symbols of the freedom you and I share.”
“I treated you like an animal.” he said.
“Foolish man. What are we if not animals, but you treated me not as such. You touched me like I was made of the finest porcelain, brought me fulfillment I had not known possible and then you let me see you, Logan. The real you, and it was beautiful.”
She meant it he realized. She loved him, loved what they had done as much as he had. Never before had he let go like that, losing himself so completely, trusting the other person to be there when it was done. Trusting his full heart to someone else. A long time ago someone had told him. “The best proof of love is trust." He knew that statement to be true now. He sat up, removing the black shoes she was still wearing, massaging her feet as he did so. “I really like these shoes, “ he said with a sinful smile.
Once back in bed he pulled her astride him, saying, “I love ya, darlin’.”
Laughing with delight she collapsed on top of him, starlight tresses spilling over his shoulder. They lay that way for a long time, no need for words between them, their soft caresses and gentle kisses telling all. In the wee hours just before dawn Ororo whispered, “Goodnight, my love,” welcoming his arms around her.
“G’night, my heart.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester County, New York


Warm rays of sun caressed her skin, kissing her flesh, waking her with gentle persistence. The beams were flooding in through the open skylight of the loft. “Mmmmm…” Ororo rolled, stretching with feline satisfaction, body deliciously tender from Logan’s repeated attentions. A wide smile on her face as she arched her back, stretching her legs languidly.
“Keep that up, darlin’ and you won’t be getting’ outta bed at all today.” Ororo blinked sleepily at the man standing beside her bed, wearing only a white cotton sheet draped loosely about his muscular waist. She used this moment to study him, her gaze appreciative as she took in his stocky build, broad shoulders, wide chest covered with crisp dark hair, muscular arms and lean hips. Unbidden an image of her wrapping her legs around those hips in the throes of release rose from the dreamlike memories of last night. Blushing, shaking herself from her perusal Ororo scootched to a seated position, pulling the blankets up to her breast, giving him a welcoming smile.
“What time is it?” she asked on a yawn.
“Still early,” Logan handed her a steaming cup of coffee. She took it, sipping carefully. Logan stared at her speculatively. “How ya feelin’?”
“Magnificent.” Her eyes twinkled merrily. “You?”
“Same.” He leaned forward capturing her chin between thumb and forefinger, kissing her gently. His sensitive fingers tracing her moist lower lip as he pulled back.
Living the shadowed life of a killer, a hunter, a government weapon and finally an X-Man, Wolverine more often than not felt unworthy of the benefits life had to offer. Love, friendship, companionship, all seemed to be fairytale things meant for other people, never himself. Yet here before him sat a goddess, fallen from her heavenly pedestal, rumpled in sheets that smelled of sex and sandalwood, offering all of those things to him, looking up at him through thick black lashes, her glorious body bearing his marks. His claim. His.
Logan took a ragged breath. Waking up tangled with ‘Ro, her hands fisted in his dark hair, breathing softly against his chest, it had taken him a good ten minutes to talk himself into believing that he was awake and not dreaming. She was looking at him now, eyes tender, one corner of her mouth tilted up, her lips still swollen from his kisses. He groaned as her tongue flicked out, licking a drop of coffee from the corner of her mouth.
“Logan?” Innocent concern.
“’Ro.” He took the coffee cup out of her hands, setting it on the nightstand. He gave her one of his most sinful smiles, pulling the covers from her skin, reveling in her unabashed nakedness. He dropped his sheet, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her so tightly for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Then he kissed her, in the way only he could. Consuming her heart and soul, lips tender and demanding, drawing a low moan from deep within her. Her slid a hand up her thigh, causing her breath to hiss from between clenched teeth.
**BAMF**
“Hey, Storm, heard you were--Mein Gott!!”
--SNIKT--
**BAMF**
“Where were we?”
The loft was filled with warm sunshine, soft murmurs, low laughter, guttural moans and finally the frantic cries of a goddess fulfilled.

Danger Room

Blinking robot orbs whizzed around the Danger room at dangerous speeds, lights flashing, collecting data and sending it back to the control turret several feet overhead. Beast shook his head, befuddled by the readings his robotic assistants were collecting. He looked out the armored windows surrounding the observation deck, down at the woman in the center of the room, lightening flying from her fingertips, snapping glossy metallic insects from the air, faster than she had ever done before and with far greater power. If the readings were correct, Storm had enough electricity in the palm of her hands to power the entire STATE of New York for an extended period of time. Beast pulled his glasses off, rubbing his furry nose in a perplexed manner. There was something wrong with the program, there had to be. He hoped. Henry looked back down at Storm, who was now gliding around the room in a stunning display of aerial acrobatic skills, her long white hair flowing behind her, eyes cloudy white.
“Are we all done, Henry?” Strange voice, echoing.
Beast blinked. “Pardon?”
“I asked if we were all done?” Storm’s voice. Ororo floated outside the windows, brow furrowed. “Is everything all right, my friend?”
“Yes. Yes. Everything is fine. I will confer with the Professor and we will go from there.” Henry said distractedly. He pushed a selection of buttons and with a soft whir the overhead fluorescent lights came on, exercise ending. “For the time being, Storm, I still strongly suggest you avoid any strenuous activity. The stress test we conducted on your heart this morning looks good, but I would rather risk the cliché of ‘better safe than sorry’ over hindsight being twenty-twenty.”
Ororo nodded, thinking of the strenuous activities she’d been engaging in this morning. She slowly lowered herself to the floor, smiling slightly at her thoughts. She felt invigorated and more alive than ever, and she knew it had nothing to do with the Danger Room exercise and everything to do with the dangerous, handsome man waiting for her outside the hydraulic double doors.
“Hello, Logan.” she greeted, pleasantly surprised to see him. “I thought you were going to town?”
“Naw. Decided t’ wait. Thought maybe ya wanted ta tag along.” He handed her a towel and bottled water, wrapping one rugged arm around her waist, hand resting comfortably on her hip.
“Sounds like a wonderful idea. I just need a quick shower, and I will be ready to go.”
“Want I should give ya a hand?” Logan’s voice became husky, lips grazing her neck, eyes darkening.
Good Lord the man was insatiable! Ororo realized she was in much the same boat, craving his touch, his voice, his scent. She gave him a smoldering look, walking ahead of him past the locker rooms, past the changing rooms, past the entrance to the main mansion and through the doors leading to the woods behind the Institute. Wolverine’s mouth curved in a wicked grin. Ah, a shower like only ‘Ro could take.
Logan had always known her to be somewhat of a sensualist, knew that she loved to be naked, enjoyed soft blankets, the feel of the rain and sun, but it wasn’t until this moment, watching her hands skim the long blades of grass as she walked, that he fully appreciated the sacrifices she made to maintain her icy demeanor, to be the stoic role model of her team, to shut her emotions off and completely box in her true self, so that no one could see what Ororo was really like. They all saw as Storm: leader, commander, and noble friend, but how many people saw Ororo? The real ‘Ro. The one who smiled at butterflies, who touched everything in nature from the grass on the ground to the bark on the trees, even at times dancing in the clouds. Her sensitive fingers searching for contact, tactile stimulation while the rest of her remained locked in an icy container of control.
It had never seemed to bother her, but now he was wondering. Had she ever wanted more for herself? Had she ever wanted to tell everyone who was free to express their happiness and anger without worrying about a tornado wiping out the county to go fuck themselves?
How many times had he spoken to her of his unrequited love for Jean? Mariko? How many times had he told her he didn’t need anyone when she had tried to comfort him? How many times had this woman held herself back for the benefit of others? His jaw clenched and suddenly he despised himself almost as much as he despised the only other person to glimpse the real ‘Ro under the façade. He and Gumbo had both used her as it suited them. Both loved by Ororo, befriended and consoled by her in their times of need, and how did they repay her? By whining about their miserable lives, taking solace in the comfort she offered, never asking her if she was happy, never looking beyond themselves to see her quiet suffering. Damn it. She was his now, and he would see to her happiness himself.
Ororo was completely caught off guard by Logan’s fierce tackle. She lay beneath him stunned and breathless. “Goddess, Logan, what has gotten into you?”
“You.” His mouth claimed hers, hot and hungry. “Yer the best thing that has ever happened to me, ‘Ro.”
“I did not happen to you. I have been here the entire time,” she murmured. She frowned at the look her words caused. He ran one hand through her silken hair, across her forehead and down the bridge of her straight nose.
“I know, darlin’. I know.” Then no more words.

Early evening, Downstairs Living Room

“So, whatchya in the mood fer, babe?” Logan asked, looking through the wide selection of movies he and ’Ro had picked up from the local movie store on their trip to town. “Action, Adventure, Horror, Drama…Chick flick?”
“Comedy.” Her dulcet voice came from the kitchen where she was popping up some buttery goodness. He strode through the swinging doors that separated the rooms, holding two cases in his hands, reading the summaries aloud for her to hear.
“How ‘bout Alien vs. Predator?”
“I said comedy,” she reminded.
“Yeah, I know.” He grinned at her. She pulled his signature cowboy hat down over his eyes playfully.
“It will be nice to have a night of normalcy before you leave in the morning.” She said as she removed the pan of popped kernels from the burner. She poured them into a large plastic bowl.
“Don’t say that, darlin’. Normal around here is spaceships crashing in the front yard, and weird mutants crawling outta the woodwork.”
Ororo laughed. “Too true.” She poured melted butter over the bowl. “Shall we?”
“One sec.” He reached in the fridge, grabbing a beer. “Lead the way, darlin,“ Logan opened the door for her, grabbing a handful of hot popcorn as she passed.
“You know, I could always tell Scooter to take me off the mission. I don‘t think he‘d mind.” Logan drawled as they settled on the couch in front of the large screen TV.
“You are an X-Man, Logan. Doing these missions is a part of that duty.”
“It’s a simple recon mission, ‘Ro. I think Cyke can handle it.”
“I am ever confident Scott can indeed handle a simple reconnaissance mission, Logan. But seeing as how you are the best there is at what you do…” she trailed off, tossing a piece of buttered popcorn into her mouth.
“That’s true enough, but I’d rather stay here and keep an eye on ya,” he said honestly. “Jean, Blue-boy and the Professor are on their way to Genosha fer some damn Mutant rights convention, and Warren and Betsy are headed to England to visit her brother. I don’t like the idea of ya being here alone.”
Ororo stiffened slightly. “I do not need constant supervision, Logan. I am quite capable of taking care of myself. And I am hardly alone, there are plenty of students here. Besides, I have said it a hundred times and I will only say it once more. I am fine, when will you believe that?”
“When it’s the truth.”
“I do not lie, Logan.” Her jaw was set. Logan growled under his breath, he knew that look all too well. She wasn’t budging.
“Sure thing, ’Ro. Whatever ya say.” He took her hand in his, webbing their fingers together. It was an unexpected gesture, as Logan was not the type of man for mushy sentiments or public displays. Private was private and he liked it like that, but with ‘Ro it was different. Everything was different with her. She belonged with him, and to hell with what anyone else thought.
Ororo immediately relaxed at the feel of his hand, laying her head on his shoulder, placing the bowl of popcorn on his lap.
“S’up.” Bobby Drake sauntered into the room, followed by Peter Rasputin and Kitty. He poked Kitty in the ribs tilting his head in a not-too-subtle gesture towards Logan and Ororo’s interlocked hands. Kitty grinned, practically clapping her delight.
“Hey, Storm. Hey, Wolvie.” She plopped down next to them, her head resting on Logan’s opposite shoulder.
“What’re we watching?” Bobby asked throwing himself into an overstuffed recliner. He gave them a saucy wink.
Logan growled, but handed the kid his beer. Bobby grinned, blowing on the top, effectively frosting the brew. “So what is it?” he asked again, handing the beer back.
“Happy Gilmore.”
“Sweet. Hey hand me some popcorn.”
Ororo could feel a rumble forming in Logan’s chest and smiled. She pressed her lips to his grizzled cheek, murmuring incoherent soothing sounds. He handed the bowl to Bobby, his eyes on Ororo. After a moment he turned, saying to Peter who was still standing behind the couch. “Take a seat, kid. Yer making me jumpy.”
“I would not want to interrupt.” The large Russian said with a look at Bobby.
“Interrupt what?” Jubilee asked, coming through the front door.
Logan was definitely rumbling now.
“Join us, won’t you?” Ororo said to both Peter and Jubilee. Logan growled down at her. She smiled up at him. He wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her in for a kiss.
“Okay, that’s just wrong.” Bobby said, but the grin on his handsome face said he thought differently. Jubilee gave Kitty a questioning look and Kitty gave her a thumbs up behind the couch.
“Cut it out.” Logan looked at the girls.
“What?” they asked in unison, feigning innocence.
“Just watch the movie and shut yer yaps,” he said to no one in particular.

Later, Attic Loft

“That was really nice of you to let the children join us,” Ororo said, running a comb through her snowy hair.
“I didn’t do it at be nice, ‘Ro.” He stood behind her, shirtless in the mirror. Her breath caught at the sight of him. Would he always have this startling effect on her senses, she wondered. “I did it ‘cause they needed to be reassured that you were gonna be all right.”
He took the comb from her fingers, running it through the strands himself. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel. No one had ever brushed her hair before. She let out a long content sigh. Logan was constantly surprising her, seeing to her needs, making her feel loved, cherished. She had no idea it would be like this, loving him. And she did love him, more than she ever believed possible. Surprising him she stood up, throwing her arms around him.
“Ya all right ‘Ro?”
“Never better,” she breathed, lips grazing his in a feather light caress. “Want to go for a ride?”
“Excuse me?” Logan couldn’t have heard that right.
“Come on.” She grabbed his arm, running towards the balcony doors. With a wave of her hand they blew open and she leapt from the railing, pulling him with her. For a split second they fell towards the ground, but then summoned by their mistress, warm winds surrounded them, lifting them both high into the night sky.
He had never seen her like this. So free, so open. She was sharing a part of herself that he knew she had never shared with anyone before. She took them high, through the clouds until his lungs ached, then she suddenly stopped the winds and they were free falling. She moved the air, catching them at the last possible moment, dangerously close to impact. He thought he was a thrill seeker, but she was insane! He laughed, loving every minute of it.
“It is good to hear you laugh, Logan.” she said once their feet were firmly planted on the ground. “You do not do it nearly as often as you should.”
“Truth be told, darlin’, I usually don’t have much reason ta laugh.” She nodded in understanding. Of course she understood, she always understood him like no one else could. He grabbed her arms, hauling her close. “Ya gonna miss me, babe?”
She didn’t try to be coy, didn’t tease, but answered him truthfully, “More than you know.”
“Show me,” he said against her mouth.
Ororo’s hands followed the muscular outline of his chest, down his firm abdomen, tugging at his jeans. She fumbled with his buckle, her mouth never leaving his. She sighed when she felt the belt give, snapping it from around his waist with a deft flick of her wrist. He groaned his approval.
Logan ran his hands down her back, cupping her firm, round backside, pulling her against the hard evidence of his need. She moaned arching against him. God he loved how responsive she was. How she managed to keep her emotions constantly repressed was beyond him. He ground himself against her, groaning.
She stepped away from him, pulling her white sweater over her head with agonizing slowness. She took another step away from him, her hands caressing the soft skin of her belly, thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts. He growled low and deep, the sound rumbling through his entire body. She smiled seductively, cupping her own full breasts.
His pulse pounded in his head. She was drawing the animal out with her smoky looks and sultry smiles. Logan stalked her, moving slowly as she edged away from him, her gaze locked with his. He stalked her carefully, his eyes glittering like a hunter’s, strategically moving her so that as she backed up, she found her body pressed against the weathered bark of an old oak tree. She looked surprised for a moment, but that was all he needed. Logan lunged forward, pressing against her, his mouth on her throat, teeth nipping, hands caressing her perfect globes. She whimpered her need. Whispered her heart.
He stepped away from her, staring at her in the moonlight, silver hair falling down her back. He looked into her eyes, saw everything he had ever dreamed of swimming in their depths. Logan fell on his knees before her, face buried in the warm skin of her stomach, lips brushing against her in butterfly softness as he said over and over, “I love you, I love you.”
The last of their clothing was stripped from their bodies by her hurried hands and his skillful blades. She pulled him from his knees, kissing him, her tongue caressing his lips, her teeth catching his lower lip. She tugged gently, smiling when he groaned. He made her feel so beautiful, so powerful, and so loved. She felt drops of rain splash against her heated flesh and knew that she was bringing it on with her unrepressed response to him. She tried to focus, searching for her center of control.
“No.” Logan snarled. “Don’t, ‘Ro. Feel this,” He surged his hips against her moist heat. “Feel us!” His hands caught her under her thighs, lifting her against the tree as he pushed himself into her damp center. Her tender skin scratching against the rough bark, an erotic combination. His tongue flicked across her nipples, causing a shockwave of sensation to ripple through her body.
Being with Logan out in the woods, under the stars, nature all around them Ororo felt something release deep inside herself. Her eyes flashed white, lightening searing a path across the dark sky. Her fingers buried themselves in his thick hair as he thrust into her, slowly, withdrawing almost completely, then plunging forward, filling her. She moaned, her hands clutching at the bark above her head.

Logan lifted her higher, driving into her with bruising force. “Show me,” he growled huskily. She cried out his name. He drove into her again. “Show me,” he demanded. She whimpered, teeth gnashing, her lower lip trembling. Thunder boomed, the winds picking up speed. Leaves swirled around them, branches snapped overhead. Ororo gasped with each aggressive thrust. He leaned forward so their mouths brushed as he commanded, “Show me!” His momentum furious now, his body slamming into hers, each thrust a pleasure pain combination like nothing either had ever felt before. His teeth sunk into her shoulder, his body shuddering as his climax overtook him.
A torrential downpour of rain and hail exploded out of the sky. Ororo screamed as wave after wave of ecstasy slammed through her body.
After what felt like an eternity, but was in fact only a matter of moments, Logan lowered her legs to the ground, lifting his head from the pillow of her breast. He cradled her face in his palm, kissing her with aching tenderness.
She blinked up at him, murmuring his name. He pulled her close, bodies soaked with sweat and rain. He felt her shoulders shaking and for a moment he thought she was crying, but when he pulled back concern on his face, he found her smiling. He raised an eyebrow, but instead of answering she nudged his shoulder, turning him around. Logan let out a low whistle. As far as the eye could see the ground was blanketed with snow, trees covered in icy leaves. He turned back to ‘Ro grinning like a loon. He wrapped his arms around her, swinging her off her feet. She laughed, head thrown back. They kissed once more, long and lingering before she summoned the winds to transport them home.
From the shadows, hidden high in a tree, a man watched, eyes glowing red. He extinguished the burning end of his cigarette in his palm before slipping into the night’s remaining darkness.

Whump. Ororo punched her pillow, flipping it over for the hundredth time. She flung herself back against the offensive collection of cotton with a humph, hair billowing like a cloud around her head. This is ridiculous, she thought. I am grown woman, a few unsettling thoughts are not going to keep me from sleeping. She closed her eyes with determination. They were open an instant later.
It was no use; every time she shut her eyes she saw dark shapes, and cloaked figures, she heard angry voices calling out to her, cursing her. She shuddered, pulling one of the pillows over her face, muffling her squeal of frustration. She flung it aside angrily.
Turning Ororo gazed at the picture she had placed on her nightstand before bed. It was a picture of Logan, lounging against his bike, looking every inch the devil’s own temptation to weak willed women. She ran a finger lovingly down the frame. He had left early that morning for his assignment with Scott and Rogue. They would be in California for the next few days, and despite her reassuring him that she was fine and could take care of herself, a small part of her wished he was with her now.
She looked at the clock beside the picture with a grimace: 2:15 am. One of Logan’s more colorful phrases popped into her head, and she chuckled.
“What so funny, padnat?”
“Remy!” Ororo bolted upright in bed, instinctively sending a blast of air in the direction of Gambit’s smooth drawl. She heard him curse, as his feet were taken out from under him. She clicked on the bedside lamp revealing Remy’s sprawled form a few feet from the bed. He scrambled to his feet with catlike agility. Ororo rose, striding towards him, eyes flashing. He started to say something but was interrupted by her fist meeting his face.
“You left me!” she accused. “You left me!” She shoved at his chest.
“Stormy, listen! Remy will explain everytin’ jus’ calm down.” He rubbed his jaw. A thin trickle of blood sliding down his chin from the cut on his lip. Immediately she reached out, wiping it away with her thumb, an old habit of hers, taking care of his wounds. His eyes closed at her touch and his breath left his lungs shakily.
“Don’t call me that,” she said softly. He opened his eyes, regret, remorse, and pain all reflected there. She stepped forward embracing him. He became rigid, uncertain. She squeezed, and with a choked sound he hugged her back.
“Remy don’ understand.” he said clearly confused.
Ororo stepped away from him, sat on the corner of her bed and studied him. He looked like hell. Thinner than when she saw him last, his face shadowed with days old growth, dark circles under his eyes. She told him as much.
“T’anks, chere. Matches ‘ow I feel, den.” He sat beside her hesitantly as if he expected her to lash out at him again. He looked her up and down. “You look…well.” He paused, noticing the dark green and black flannel shirt she was wearing. He recognized it as one of Wolverine’s. His hands closed into fists and a tick started in the corner of his jaw.
“You mean for having my ass handed to me by Sabertooth. Then yeah, I guess I do look well.”
“Takin’ language lessons from da Wolverine, chere?” Gambit couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Among ot’er t’ings.” he mumbled.
“I did not catch that last part, Gambit. Care to repeat it?” her voice was cold, eyes ice blue.
Remy looked away, clenching his teeth. Ever since the other night when he had witnessed her in the woods, clinging to Wolverine, lost in the throes of passion, making sounds he’d only ever heard her make in his most secret dreams, he’d felt like he‘d lost a part of himself. Stormy was his constant, his certainty and now that all had changed.
He turned to her now; she sat studying him, her head tilted to one side, a river of snow flowing down her arm. She was supposed to always be his, he thought.
The logical part of Gambit knew it wasn’t fair of him to expect her to always be there for him, always be available when he needed a friend, a shoulder, unconditional acceptance, but he had expected it none the less. He had always assumed she was above the wants and desires of regular women. He had always foolishly thought that she would not need anyone else, as long as she had him. He drew in a deep breath. There was a place in his heart that was Stormy’s and hers alone, and it was a bigger place than he cared to admit, even to himself.
“I think it is past time for explanations, my friend.” Ororo said when he did not say anything.
“Am I, Stormy?”
“Are you what?”
“Your friend.” The uncertainty in his voice tore at her heart.
“Of course you are.”
“Even after I lied to ya?”
“I do not believe for one second that you meant to.”
Remy ran one leather clad hand down his face wearily. “Ah, but I did, chere.”
Ororo felt her stomach knot but said nothing. There was an explanation, surely there was. This was her best friend, her brother. He would not have intentionally betrayed her, she just knew he wouldn’t have.
He looked so lost. She touched his face with the tips of her fingers. “Tell me.”
He caught her hand, kissing her palm. “You would hear me out, after…” he couldn’t finish. In his mind flashed images of Storm battered and bloody, fighting for her life while he kneeled helpless, unable to move, unable to save her. He lowered his head.
“Remy, of course I will listen to you. I know you. I know you here,” she touched his forehead with her index finger. “I know you here,” she touched his chest, directly over his thudding heart. “And I know you here,” she placed his hand over her heart, holding onto him when he would have pulled away, as if touching her scalded him. “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage. You have both in you.”
“Ahh, Stormy…” He pressed his head into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, holding her like she was life itself and he was a dying man. She stroked his auburn hair patiently.
Ororo pressed her cheek against the top of his head, happy that her friend had come home at last. She knew Logan would have an absolute fit if he knew that Gambit was here, but he was away from the mansion--
“Remy?”
“Hm?”
“How long have you been spying on me?”
A pause. He could lie, but he wouldn‘t. “Long enough t’ know Iceman ain’t got not’in on you, Stormy.”
She gave an outraged gasp, followed by an indignant snort. “Pervert,” was the only reprimand she gave him. He looked like he had enough guilt and remorse on his plate, no need to over feed, she thought.
“When you are ready to talk, I will listen.” She rose, walking towards the balcony. Without a word he followed her.
She opened the double doors, greeting the evening breeze with a sigh. The sky was crystal clear, infinite stars as far as she could see. The night sky at its deepest had always reminded her of Logan. Dark and often frightening, filled with infinite dimensions, infinite possibilities, and breathtaking beauty when one looked deep enough.
“Does he make ya happy, Stormy?” Gambit asked quietly as if reading her thoughts. She heard the strike of a match and smelled the familiar scent of his cigarette. Funny the things she had missed during his absence.
“He is my night sky,” she responded, smiling her Mona Lisa smile. He said nothing, approaching her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and resting his whiskered chin on her hair.
“Missed ya, padnat. Thought I lost you. I wasn‘t sure I‘d ever see you again. Had t‘ come see you though. Couldn’ leave it like it was.”
“I am glad, my brother. I sorely missed you as well. I am, however, still waiting for a reason behind your sudden desire to be rid of me.” Although she was trying to tease she felt Gambit stiffen behind her.
“Come, let’s get comfy, chere. It is a long story and I t’ink I’d rather be sittin’ durin’ da telling’, if you don’ mind.” He reached for her hand, strolling back into the loft. He was limping she noticed.
“Remy?”
“Yeah, Stormy?”
“It will not matter what you tell me. I love you regardless.”
“How did I ever get so lucky, padnat, as t’ ‘ave you in my life?”
Ororo temporarily halted, reflecting on their first meeting. She'd fallen two stories, she remembered, and ended up landing in an extremely cold swimming pool. The most handsome young man she’d ever laid eyes on knelt before her. He was dressed in black with a brown trench coat and a friendly grin that reached straight to his red on black eyes. "Little late for a swim, eh, chere?" he had asked with a laugh, instantly winning her heart. He became her mentor, provider, and best friend.
“You must have been a very good boy in a previous life,” she said.
“Yeah, musta been,” he agreed throat tight, knowing they were sharing the same memory. She reached up, tugging his trademark duster from his shoulders and tossing it onto her ‘comfy’ chair with an absent flip of her wrist. Gambit dropped onto her bed with a bounce, pulling off his black boots. He scooted back until he was pressed against the pillows guarding the headboard and motioned for her to join him.
Ororo climbed in beside him, switching off the lamp as they settled into their most comfortable and familiar position, her head on his chest, his hands fiddling with her hair. “I didn’ want you t’ be hurt,” he said softly after several minutes to which Ororo made no reply. She knew Remy, knew he would talk to her, tell her everything that she needed to know, but he would do it at his own pace.
“I wanna tell ya it wasn’ me who took ya away from here. If only I could-- But it was me. Or at least mostly me.” He shook his head. “I still don’ fully understand myself what made me feel like dat... It‘s ‘ard t‘ explain. It was like I woke up one day and had t‘ get you away from here. As far away as I could. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn‘ shake da feelin‘ that if you stayed somet’in bad was gonna ’appen t’ you. Obviously a bad judgment call on my part as we both know. Ya couldna been more hurt den you were--”
“What did you think was going to happen, Remy, when you sold me to Sinister or Sabertooth or whomever it was you traded me to?” she interrupted, feeling the stirrings of anger.
Remy stiffened once again. “What ya talkin’ ‘bout, chere? I never sold you? Traded you? What?” He was pissed now, his red on black eyes glowing in the dark.
“Remy. I saw Mystique with you, I saw you take a bag of money.”
“Well, hell, Stormy, I am a thief before I’m anything else. O’ course I took a bag full of money. But I sure as fuck didn’t try t’ sell you to Sabertooth or Sinister or whoever the hell else you t’ink I would. Where would you get an idea like dat?” he was hurt. She could hear it in his voice. She furrowed her brow in confusion.
“There was a note. You sent Rogue a note, saying that you were going to barter me in exchange for a clean slate or some such deal.”
“Pffft. Remy smarter den dat, padnat. You t’ink if I was goin’ to sell you like some piece of horseflesh to de highest biddin’ baddie, I would leave a fuckin’ note?”
“Language,” she corrected automatically. Gambit rarely swore with such verve, only when he was really upset and upset he was if the faint glow she was detecting from his hands was any indication.
“I took you to New Orleans cause I had made arrangements wit’ Jean-Luc. He was gonna send some guild after us ta make ya t’ink Remy was in trouble. T’ keep you away from dis place.” He waved his hand in broad stroke.
“Well, then who was the man we met on the street, the one in the cloak?”
“At first I thought he was whoever Papa ‘ad sent, and by de time I realized it was no one from any guild, I was on de ground ‘aving a heart attack. Next t’ing I know we’re surrounded by de fuckin’ evil Brady Bunch, and you,” he squeezed her hard, “are fightin’ that slobbering buffoon like some Amazon goddess.” Gambit stopped talking momentarily caught up in the horrible memories of that day, of watching his padnat on the ground bleeding, and him kneeling there helpless. Watching her die…
“I believe you,” she said bringing him back to the present. “Then why did you leave me?” This time the hurt was in her voice.
Remy took a deep, steadying breath. “I blamed myself for what ‘appened. I lied to ya, took ya away from da safety of da mansion, and I just couldn’--God, Stormy, ya looked like you were goin’ t’ die. I couldn’ take it. I ran. I’m a coward, I know.”
“Remy. I am a goddess, and goddesses do not befriend cowards.”
Despite his mood, Remy chuckled. Christ, she had thought he had tried to sell her! Didn’t she know she was priceless to him? Beyond value? Even more amazing was that she had still been willing to see him, to hear him out. Gambit felt blessed for such a gift as her friendship in his life. He thought back to Rogue abandoning him in the snow and cold after she’d found out some of his unsavory past. She hadn’t been willing to listen, instead she had been only too eager to leave him to die. She was sorry, she said, and he was trying to forgive her. But it was hard. Some betrayals you just never get over. He looked down at Storm, who was tapping one long finger against her chin, deep in thought.
“The facts as they stand now are: you had an overwhelming urge to remove me from the mansion. You in turn lied to me to get me to travel to New Orleans, where you were going to have some Guild members harass us so that I would stay, thinking you needed me, but somehow we got sold out and Sabertooth, Mystique and weird cloak guy stepped in to apparently kidnap me and set you up. Does that sound about right?”
Remy grinned awkwardly. “Yep, dat ‘bout sums it up.”
“Good. Now all we have to do is figure out who and why.”
“Jus’ like dat?” he teased.
“Yes, Gambit. Just like that. This person or persons hurt my friends, hurt my family and they will pay for it. They will pay dearly.” She practically growled it.
“Ah, you are takin’ lesson from da Wolverine.”
Ororo swatted his arm. He hadn’t betrayed her! Her heart was full to bursting! She was alive, Gambit was home, and she was in love with Logan. Life suddenly seemed perfect.
“Tell me, padnat, what other neat tricks do ya do when you and Wolv--”
“Gambit, I am warning you. Do not finish that sentence.”
“As you wish, padnat. Whatever your heart desires…”

Disclaimer: Marvel owns all the rights to these character, they’re only mine in my dreams…


“See anything, Wolverine?” Scott Summer’s deep voice traveled over the earpiece embedded deep in Logan’s ear.
“Nothin’ yet.” He, Scott and Rogue were spread in triangle formation around an old shipping warehouse on the San Francisco bay. Logan sniffed the air. Car oil, ocean water, seafood, sweat, and some other miscellaneous aromas filled his nostrils, but he detected nothing out of the ordinary.
“Rogue?” Scott again.
“Clear from up here, shugah. Just what exactly are we looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. The Professor said that Cerebro picked up some strange readings coming from this area.”
“Strange how?”
“Would you two mind playing twenty questions later,” Wolverine growled. “Looks like we may have some action after all.” From behind a stack of crates two figures hurriedly darted in and out of sight, making their way along one of the warehouse walls.
“What do you see, Wolverine?”
“Open yer eye, Cyke, and take a look at the east dock.” He sniffed the air again. Still nothing out of the ordinary, but he felt the stirrings of unease, the hairs on his neck tingling. Instinct told him the two figures now opening one of the warehouse doors were looking for trouble, and his instincts had never let him down before. “Two men, making their way towards ya , Rogue. Whaddya see, darlin’?” Wolverine was moving towards the warehouse crouched low, claws slowly extending with a soft -snikt-.
“Yer clear at move in, whoever they are they seem pretty intent on what their doin’.”
“Stand down, Wolverine. We are not to engage, only observe.” Scott’s voice barked in his ear. “Get back to your post. Now.”
Wolverine retracted his claws, muttering an unsavory epithet under his breath, grudgingly complying with Scott’s request to stand down. He never liked taking orders from Scooter, never would, but he wasn’t in the mood to fight. All he wanted to do was complete the assignment and get home to ’Ro.
Wolverine still couldn’t believe his good fortune where she was concerned. Ororo had been many things to him over the years, his best friend, teammate, leader and now she was his greatest love. Not just now, he mused, had always been. Even when he had believed himself in love with Jean, Mariko, Yuiko, Silver Fox and the endless others in his long and illustrious life, she had always been a constant part of him, and no one else had come close to capturing his heart the way ‘Ro had. It was like comparing the flame from a candle to the blazing heat of the sun. It was terrifying to feel so intensely, but he welcomed the terror so long as he had her in his life.
“They don’t appear to be mutants,” Scott said over the wire. “Burglars, maybe, but not mutants.”
“So we just gonna watch them break into that warehouse, Scotty?” Rogue asked incredulously.
“We’re not the police, Rogue. Sometimes it’s best to keep a low profile. We don‘t need to advertise our presence. Besides I am sure a warehouse that size has some sort of silent alarm.”
“Yer kiddin’ me. The boy scout doesn’t wanna rush in and save the day?” Wolverine chuckled.
“Can it, Wolverine.” Scott’s voice was hard. “Rushing into things without thinking of the consequences is what you do.”
Wolverine stiffened. Suddenly this conversation had nothing to do with the two men now entering the dark warehouse, and everything to do with something else entirely. “Ya got something’ t’ say, One-eye?”
“No time for this now, gents. Looks like we have more company.” Rogue’s southern drawl interrupting them. Overhead a black helicopter hovered, spotlight coming on with a snap, searching the boating docks.
“This is the SFPD we have you surrounded!”
Wolverine could almost hear Scott’s ‘I told you so’, and it made his lip curl. He reached under the leather mask covering the top half of his face and pulled his earpiece from his ear, letting it dangle uselessly over his shoulder. He could really go for a beer right now. A beer and ‘Ro. The thought made him smile. He had actually enjoyed sitting on the couch in the living room, beer in hand, ‘Ro on his arm, watching movies with some of the students. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone else.
He was nearly back to the top of his lookout point when his nose picked up a vaguely familiar scent and a swirl of black caught his eye. He tensed, ready to launch.
Seemingly emerging from the shadows along the bushes a cloaked form stood a few feet away. Wolverine was unnerved by the fact that he hadn’t sensed the cloaked figure’s presence until he was nearly on top of him. Abruptly the figure made a motion and Wolverine dropped to his knees, gagging and clutching his throat, eyes bulging and blood spewing from his mouth.
“Wolverine! Wolverine! He’s not responding, Cyclops.” From the earpiece on his shoulder Wolverine heard Rogue’s worried tone.
“Reply, Wolverine!” Cyke.
“Engaged, Scooter!” Wolverine let out a snarl, fighting against the pain lancing throughout his body. From behind him he heard footsteps racing down the slope towards where he knelt and the dark form hovered.
The cloaked shape heard it too and was momentarily distracted. A small opening was all Wolverine needed. He leapt high and struck hard, his blades sinking into the folds of the cloak with unerring accuracy, only to find himself enveloped in their swirling shadows, tumbling through the air, surrounded by pitch black, no light, no reprieve from the never-ending dark.
“Wolverine!” Rogue’s voice seemed far away, muffled like he was under water. All around him the darkness was hissing. A voice broke through the darkness, cold and malevolent.
“The doorway, where is she? She is ours, bring her to ussss.”
“Don’t know what yer blabbering about,” Wolverine snarled. The shadows were clinging to his skin, slithering up his arms and legs, wrapping around him like oily tentacles, choking him. It was getting harder to breathe.
“She is our! She is ours! Will not resssst until she is oursss!” Wolverine felt cold fingers brush against his skin, across his eyes and images of Storm flashed through his mind, pulled forward by force from whatever creature lay beyond the darkness. “Yesss… the doorway. She must die! She is ours! Must die! Ours! Ours! Ourssss!” The strange voices were becoming frantic in their chanting, and the shadow coils around Wolverine’s neck tightened agonizingly. He couldn’t breathe, all air cut off by the slithering arms.
“Wrong!” Wolverine panted, working his hands up to his neck, prying the tentacles away from his flesh. “She’s mine!”-SNIKT-
Instinct told him where to strike and he thrust his right arm forward, felt his claws sink into soft tissue, the creature giving a satisfying shriek of agony. Immediately Wolverine found himself on all fours, looking down at the damp ground, gasping for air.
“Wolverine! Behind you!” Scott warned, racing across the slope, hand on his visor. The warning was unnecessary as Wolverine had already sensed the presence rising behind him and twisted, arm lashing out catching his assailant at the knees, effectively dropping his attacker.
The dark cloak fell open revealing a pale form with several dark eyes, sharp protruding teeth and a forked tongue that flicked out angrily. “No ussse, mortal. The doorway is ours. We see her now, she isss oursss!” The demonic creature began to thrash wildly on the ground, a broken mantra of strange sounds and words coming from its reptilian lips as its body literally boiled from the inside out.
“Wolverine, you all right, shugah?” Rogue reached his side, making a face at the sight of the dissolved creature.
“What in the hell was that?” Scott demanded coming up behind Rogue.
“Don’t know.” Wolverine said raggedly. “We need to get back to the Institute now!” Wolverine was already moving towards their hidden blackbird.
“Wolverine! Wait, what’s going on?” Rogue took to the air, flying beside him.
“That thing wanted Storm, kept calling her a door or some shit. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I mean t’ find out.” Wolverine broke into a run.
Once inside the Blackbird Scott contacted Jean, relaying what little information he had gotten out of Wolverine. Jean had assured him that although the Mutant Rights conference was extended, she would join them at the mansion, leaving Xavier and Hank to deal with the politics.
“Okay, people, let’s go home.” Cyclops stated, flipping the ignite switch, the engines flaming to life, the jet lifting slowly off the ground.
“Scott! Lookout!” Rogue screamed as an inky black tentacle much larger than the ones Wolverine had been grappling with appeared out of nowhere, enveloping the Blackbird.
As darkness surrounded the three of them Wolverine could hear the demon creatures raspy voices in his mind once again: ‘bring usss the doorway. She‘s oursss, she will die!’
“Like hell!” He roared, claws extending. The windows of the jet imploded, glass slicing through the air, embedding in seats and skin.


Xavier Institute

“Gambit. Gambit, wake up.” Ororo leaned over the sleeping form in her bed, shaking his shoulder. “Remy, get up.”
“Hnh? What’s da matter, padnat?” his voice was groggy.
“I can not explain it. Something does not feel right. We should check on the children.” She was pulling on a pair of black sweat pants.
Gambit rose, instantly awake. He picked his duster up from where it lay across Ororo’s overstuffed chair, pulling his extendable adamantium Bo staff from the inside pocket. With a snap of his wrist he extended it to its full length. “Ready.”
Quietly they stepped into the hallway, moving slow as to accustom themselves to the darkness. Each room they checked was quiet and secure. Closing Jubilee’s bedroom door Gambit said, “Everyt’in seems fine. Check de upstairs jus‘ ta be safe, non?”
Ororo nodded. Maybe she was just being paranoid, disturbed by her bad dreams, nevertheless she would much rather make certain before returning to bed. “Yes. I am probably being irrational, but I would like to be certain.”
“Stormy de most rational person I know. If ya say der’s somet’in wrong, chere, Gambit not question it.”
“All right, then let us check--”
CRASH!
“What was dat?” Gambit took a defensive stance, staff ready.
“It came from outside.” Ororo whispered. She floated down the stairs towards the front door intent on rushing outside, but as her fingers curled around the brass handle she felt a stirring in her mind, a flash of caution. She could sense Jean trying to reach her, the message was unclear, fragments of warning.
Ororo took a deep breath, readying herself to face whatever lay outside the front door of the Institute. She took a deep breath, eyes clouding white, lightening chasing the strands of hair swirling about her head. She heard the whir of Gambit spinning his staff. “Ready when you are, chere.” Ororo yanked open the door
“Aaaaah!” A small form fell away from the door, hands flying up to protect its face.
“Kitty!” Ororo exclaimed. “Bright Lady, do you realize how close you just came to getting fried!” She reached down, pulling the younger girl off the front stoop, onto her feet. “It is three in the morning, Kitten. Would you care to explain why you are banging around out here?”
“I, uh, I um…hm. Funny story…” Kitty began, but was interrupted by Ororo.
“Peter Rasputin! I see you over there, front and center!” The rather large Peter poked his head around the slender maple he was attempting to hide behind.
“Oh, uh, hey, Storm. Nice night, huh?” he walked towards her whistling, his smile nervous.
“Yes, Peter. A very nice night, however, it is well past curfew and you two are supposed to be in bed.” Ororo’s voice was stern.
“I t’ink dat was de boys general idea,” Gambit drawled, leaning against his bo staff taking in Kitty’s disheveled appearance and Peter’s new shade of lipstick.
Ororo snapped her head around, eyes flashing in silent warning, but she couldn’t keep the slight quirk of her lips hidden from him.
Remy chuckled softly. “Der was a time, Stormy, when you were de one sneakin’ outta da mansion in da middle o’ de night.”
Kitty took a step away from the door, hand flying to her mouth as she gasped, finally recognizing the man in the shadows. “What’s he doing here?” she hissed. “He’s a traitor, Storm! Has he hurt you?” Kitty demanded.
Peter’s skin rippled, silver steel materializing over his muscular frame. “Get behind me, Storm.” He reached for her arm.
Gambit smirked, not moving from his casual stance. “Is he serious, chere?”
“Step aside, Storm. I will handle this traitor.” Peter took a step forward.
“Do not be ridiculous, Peter.” Ororo placed a restraining hand on his chest. “Gambit is an X-man, and my friend. You will not touch him.”
“Storm, I love the fact that you’re all gung-ho loyal to your buddies, but this guy nearly got you killed. He’s a traitor, even Rogue says so.” Kitty exclaimed. Storm heard Gambit’s indrawn breath, knowing he was hurt by that last statement.
“I believe we have been over this already, Kitty. As for what Rogue says, well, it is foolish for her to cast stones when the stones that will be returned are boulders compared to pebbles.” Ororo said angrily.
“Meaning?” Kitty asked.
“Meaning that there are times, Kitten, when people do the wrong things for all the right reasons.” She looked over her shoulder, giving Remy a soft smile that told him in no uncertain terms he had been forgiven and she had understood. Turning back to Kitty and Peter, Ororo continued, saying, “Gambit has proven himself a loyal X-man and friend more times than I can count, and anyone who says differently will answer to me.” She placed her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “ I sincerely hope you think about all he has done for us, for you, before you toss around hurtful words such a traitor.”
“Sorry,” Kitty mumbled, casting Gambit an apologetic glance. “If Storm believes you, then that is good enough for me.”
“Me as well,” Peter said, warm flesh returning where cold steel was but a moment before. “But let us face facts, there are others who will not be so forgiving,” he reminded.
“Do not concern yourselves. Off to bed now, both of you. We will pretend that this little incident never happened. Goodnight.” Ororo stepped aside allowing the young mutants entry into the mansion. Both nodded their heads at Gambit as they passed, in return he gave them his trademark sardonic smile, but it did not reach his eyes.
Once they were alone again Ororo sighed heavily. “Remy, about Rogue--”
“Don’, Stormy.” Gambit’s voice was uncharacteristically dull.
“Remy, she is feeling betrayed, she thinks you left her. I am certain once you explain everything to her, things will work out.”
“You t’ink so, chere, ‘cause I don’.” He snapped his staff down to palm size. “And I don’ know dat it ever will.”
“Gambit…” Ororo hesitated, unsure what to say. She hated seeing her friend hurting, but knew that this was something he and Rogue had to sort through on their own. “I am here if you need me,” was all she could think to say.
“Merci, chere.” Gambit reached over, hugging her to him.
Ororo opened her mouth to say something when suddenly she felt sick, her head swimming, pain lancing through her body. “Goddess…” She would have crumpled if not for Gambit’s supporting arms.
“Stormy?” Gambit asked, worry etched on his handsome face. He moved her to the living room, seating her on the couch. “What is it?”
Leaning forward Ororo placed her hand over her heart. “Logan. He needs me.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York

Darkness, endless darkness. Cold, it was so cold. Pain and smoke and blood.
“Storm?” Gambit was kneeling in front of her, brows creased, looking at her strangely. “Stormy?” He was snapping his fingers in front of her face.
“We have to go!” She rose from the couch, trying to maneuver past Gambit, who was holding her arms.
“Storm, what’s da matter?”
Ororo pulled her arms away, placing one hand to her temple, an intolerable throbbing in her head.
“Are you all right, chere? You actin‘ peculiar. Maybe you should rest.”
“Logan. I have to get to Logan!” She shoved Gambit away from her, striding towards the stairs purposefully. She took them in one wind assisted leap, heading towards her attic loft, never once looking back over her shoulder.
Gambit started after her, concern written all over his face. When Storm had sat down she seemed to black out, but her eyes had remained wide open, her voice strange as she spoke in a language Gambit didn’t recognize. Then as suddenly as she had spaced out, she was up and raring to go.
He started after her, hearing the sound of breaking glass he rushed the stairs two at a time, bursting through her bedroom door just in time to see her launch herself from her balcony railing into the sky at a velocity he never knew she was capable of.
“Storm!” Gambit braced himself against the railing as a blast of air nearly sent him toppling to the ground.
“Gambit! What is it?!” Kitty was phasing through the floor and he could hear Peter’s heavy footfalls in the hallway.
“Don’ know, chaton. She took off like a bat outta hell, and I don’ know where to.” In the distance thunder boomed and the sky was alight with flickering lightening.
“She didn’t say where?” Kitty asked, clearly troubled.
“Said somet’in about da Wolverine, den…” he gestured to the shattered balcony doors.
“If she mentioned Wolverine, then she is headed to San Francisco,” said Peter, entering the dimly lit room.
“If dat’s da case, I’ll be needing a flyer.” Gambit was already moving towards the door with long strides.
“We’re coming with you,” Kitty said, moving to follow.
“Non, I don’ t’ink so.” Gambit cast them a look over his shoulder. “Stay here, someone needs t’ be in charge ‘til we get back.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kitty grumbled as Gambit disappeared down the hallway with a thief’s stealth.

San Francisco
Harbor

“Wolverine, I think Scott’s down!” Rogue’s voice, muffled and distant, came through the blackness surrounding the jet.
“Can ya see him?” Wolverine’s hands searched blindly for something familiar to hold on to. A shard of glass penetrated his hand between thumb and forefinger causing him to swear.
“Yeah, Ah see him. Where are yah?”
The blackbird was shrouded in darkness, enveloped by a large, offensive smelling tentacle-thing, that was squeezing the aircraft like a boa constrictor would its prey. The plane shrieked in protest, metal buckling, glass tinkling to the floor.
“I’m making my way towards ya. Stay put.” Wolverine stiffened as the jet was jostled again, causing the overhead compartments to bust open, oxygen masks dangling in the air. “Are ya hurt?” He called.
“A little woozy, but otherwise ok. Scott’s laying pretty still, but Ah can’t see if he’s hurt bad or not.”
“I can see ya now, hold on.” Wolverine pushed against the folded steel of a collapsed container blocking his path.
“What the heck is this thing?” Rogue demanded.
Wolverine didn’t respond, instead he grasped the seat beside him, spread his legs, finding his center of balance. His enhanced senses picking up the subtle shift in movement beneath his feet. “Brace yerself!” he shouted. No sooner had the words left his mouth than the Blackbird was lifted high and plummeted back into the ground, jarring his teeth and sending objects flying about the cabin like projectiles. He felt something long and sharp pierce his side below his ribs. Grunting he pulled out a long sliver of metal, tossing it aside.
“Ah lost Scott!” Rogue cried as the plane was slammed again.
A tall body crashed into Wolverine, knocking him to the side. “Got him!” He grabbed Scott by the back of the neck, hauling the lifeless man up beside him, propping him against the seat. “Ya with us, Cyke!” He slapped Cyclops’s across the face. Hard.
“Jesus, Wolverine.” Scott snapped, throwing an arm up in automatic defense.
“Just makin’ sure yer with us.”
“Wolverine!” Rogue came into view, rushing towards them. “Something’s inside!” Several long snake-like shadows were hissing along the interior walls and along the floor. -SNIKT- Wolverine impaled one of the shadow snakes that slithered towards his leg. It squealed, a high pitched awful sound, thrashing about beneath his claw.
“Rogue!” Scott shouted in warning to his teammate, but too late, one of the slithering fiends slid up Rogue’s arms, springing forwards and covering her face. Upon contact with her skin the creature’s energy was drained away, absorbed by the southern beauty’s mutant power and it dropped limply to the floor. Immediately Rogue began screaming, hands on her head, dropping to her knees!
“AAAAHHH!! The Door!! Find the door!! Kill the Door!! Find the Door!!”
“Rogue--”
“Don’t touch me!” She cried, skittering away. “Oh…God…” she sobbed.
The plane shifted once more, lifting from the ground. Wolverine and Cyclops exchanged a look, both knowing as sturdy as the Blackbird was it would not withstand another impact like the one they just had. They braced themselves, prepared for the worst.
KABOOM!! Thunder echoed throughout the aircraft, followed by flashes of bright white slipping in past the oily tentacle‘s folds. The slick shadow snakes flopped to and fro in what could only be described as an orgasmic frenzy, their hissing and squealing raising the hair on each X-man’s neck.
“Logan!”
Wolverine froze, unable to believe what he was hearing. Surely that wasn’t ‘Ro’s smooth velvet voice calling out to him. She couldn’t possibly be here, she was hundreds of miles away tucked safely in her bed, dreaming sweet dreams of him.
“Logan! By the Bright Lady, you had better answer me!”
Yup, it was ‘Ro alright. “’Ro, what the fuck are you doing here?” He roared.
“Saving your ass!” She shot back. Ororo hovered above the trapped Blackbird, appalled at the sight of the slimy membrane encircling the jet, crushing it in it’s greasy wrinkles. Her heart had nearly stopped when she had emerged from the clouds and saw the carnage below. Ororo began looking around frantically trying to locate the origin of the bracchialis. Bracchialis? How is it she knew what the monstrosity was called?
The sound of steel bending caught her attention, pulling her from her musing. Time for questions later, now she had to rescue her friends from being crushed like a beer can at a frat party. Ororo’s eyes clouded white, an idea forming in her head. “Hang on, guys, it is going to get a bit chilly!” She warned.
Calling forth the elements that were hers to command Ororo turned the balmy evening sky into a swirling mass of clouds, the temperature dropping dramatically, a funnel of snow and sleet pouring out of her cloud cauldron, smashing into the offensive creature trapping her teammates, and freezing it on contact.
Inside the cabin of the Blackbird, the walls creaked and moaned but no longer from being crushed, instead protesting the ice that was crawling along the walls, capturing and immobilizing the shadow snakes, making the air so cold it was almost unbearable to breathe.
Wolverine crunched several of the critters beneath his booted heel, making his way to the front of the plane. The tentacle outside, the one that had been crushing them, was frozen solid. Through the busted window Wolverine saw Ororo gliding towards them, eyes glowing. He growled angrily. She should be at the mansion, safe, away from this shit. She wasn’t on active duty, and how the hell did she know they were in trouble, there hadn’t been time to send an SOS.
“Is everyone all right?” Ororo asked.
“Just peachy,” Rogue answered, helping Scott to his feet.
“Step away from the window.” When all three complied, Storm unleashed a bolt of lightening, shattering a large piece of the creature and the front part of the Blackbird, creating a gaping exit.
The three wounded X-men stepped from the wreckage, surveying the area around them with cautious, highly trained eyes. “I saw no one when I arrived.” Ororo said, landing beside Wolverine. He immediately grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into him, glowering at her. He kissed her quick and hard before demanding, “Just what the hell do ya think yer doin,?” his voice a deep growl, shaking her slightly.
“I t’ink Stormy already answered you, Wolverine.” Came a smooth voice from the shadows. “And I suggest ya don’ handle her like dat, homme.”
“Gambit?” Ororo turned, surprised. He was leaning against one of the single person jet flyers from the mansion, looking very laid-back.
“Course, chere. Gambit couln’ let ya run off half cocked wit’ out ‘im.” Gambit flicked his cigarette aside, looking at her with a half smile on his face, but concern evident in his eyes.
“Gambit!” Rogue gasped. He gave her a hard stare in return.
“GUMBO!” Wolverine shoved Storm behind him, launching himself at Gambit with a feral snarl, claws unsheathed, slicing with deadly intent.
Gambit reacted quickly, snapping his staff to full length twirling it, deflecting Wolverine’s hurried attack. He reached into his pocket, pulling out two cards, snapping them at Wolverine, leaving a trail of pink phosphorous in their wake.
Wolverine dodged the kinetically charged cards, crouching low, snarling at the tall Cajun. “Yer dead!” he vowed. He lunged again, spinning in the air, his foot connecting with Gambit’s chest, sending him to the ground. Gambit was back up in an instant, just to be knocked right back down.
“Logan, stop!” Ororo said, taking a step forward, only to find herself restrained by Rogue’s gloved hand on her arm.
“This is something they need ta do,” Rogue said quietly.
“Are you insane?” Ororo demanded, jerking her arm away.
“Wolverine won’t let Gambit’s betrayal slide,” Rogue argued.
“Any more idiotic statements from you and I may forget that we are on the same side,” Storm warned, eyes flashing, the wind picking up, lifting her hair. She turned back to the two men circling each other with deadly intensity.
“Stop! Both of you!” Her shout was ignored by both Gambit and Wolverine.
“I’m gonna gut you like a fish you sniveling coward!” Wolverine snarled.
“ Embrasse mon tcheue, Peeshwank!” Gambit shouted, leaping in the air, staff twirling, connecting with a solid thwack against Wolverine’s head. Wolverine grinned. Gambit took a step back.
“Scott, do something! They are going to kill each other!” Ororo demanded.
“Naw, I think Wolverine’s got a pretty good chance to take this one.” Scott said nonchalantly, nursing his broken arm. Ororo gave him an incredulous look. Had they all lost their minds?
“Enough!” Lightening split the sky, crashing in between the two warriors, the two men she loved most in all the world. They paused, Wolverine’s stance aggressive, Gambit’s defensive, and looked at the woman now striding towards them like an avenging angel, wind whipping her white hair, flapping her shirt, thunder booming overhead.
“Knock it off!” She shouted. “This is ridiculous! Logan, Gambit is my friend! Remy, back off or so help me--!” Once again they ignored her, turning towards each other, intent on returning to their battle. Neither one prepared to yield, both prepared to fight for Ororo. Wolverine bared his fangs, Gambits hands began to glow.
Without warning a blast of artic wind sent them flying in opposite directions. Wolverine landed hard, rolling backwards, Gambit much the same way. “I said enough!” Her voice was harsh and unyielding. It was the voice she used in the field, when she commanded her team. It was a voice both men respected.
Storm was about to say more when the hulking mass that had been frozen only moments ago suddenly surged to life, its oily arm whipping out and snatching her from the ground. She dangled uselessly from its bone crushing grip her hoarse cry cut short by a none to gentle squeeze.
“’Ro!” Wolverine was already moving, blades out, ready to attack. A section of the tentacle separated, lashing out at him and the others, snatching them up and slamming them against the ground brutally. Gambit unleashed a flurry of glowing cards, spinning them from his fingers with unbelievable dexterity and accuracy but to no avail. The explosions having no effect, save that of pissing off the tentacled beast even more.
Ororo felt the slimy scales of the tentacle-thing against her flesh and she cringed. She struggled against the oppressive weight wrapping itself around her just like it had captured the Blackbird. Dark tendrils slid over her face, covering her mouth, her nose and finally her eyes, submerging her in endless shadow.
Panic was mounting; having been a severe claustrophobe since the age of five, this was pure hell for her. She arched her back, pushing against the mushy substance holding her. No use, she only sunk deeper into the abyss, no longer able to hear her friends hollering for her, no longer able to feel the night breeze on her skin. She was trapped! Images of Cairo and her mother rose before her.
“No. No. No. No. No.” Her chest tightened, her breathing became labored, she was suffocating!
“Yesss. The doorway is oursss..”
“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” Ororo felt her limbs tingling, her eyes burning like they had been exposed to the sun for too long, her heart was racing.
“Yesss.. Ours..”
“No! No! NO!” Electricity exploded from her body, bursting from the creature’s black depths, streaking high into the sky. Ororo escaped through one of the holes her flare had created. From her aerial view she saw her friends being attacked ruthlessly, their bodies being tossed about like children’s playthings. A split apart tentacle latched around Wolverine’s neck, choking him, forcing him to his knees. Ororo’s mind went numb with rage. Her entire focus on the bracchialis.
Moving her arms in a circular pattern she began chanting four words over and over: “abolescere, aboriri, aborisci, abscedere!” instinctively knowing these were the words to destroy the fiend. The tentacle creature wailed angrily, several smaller snakelike whips forming, splitting off, lashing out, occasionally snapping against Ororo’s flesh, leaving bloody streaks in their wake. She chanted louder, letting the instinct take over. There was a loud shrieking and then the creature began to dissolved, a pool of slick oil appearing in the aftermath, much like the remains of the reptilian foe Wolverine had fought earlier.
With a faint cry of relief Ororo plummeted to the ground, scarcely feeling the impact, her body so drained.
The other X-men fell to the ground as well, released from the dark monster as it died. Wolverine found himself looking at Scott, who looked at Rogue, who was staring at Gambit, who said, “Where’s Stormy?”
Wolverine saw her first; she was kneeling in the center of the smeared creature, head in her hands. He rushed to her side. “Darlin’?” No response from her. “’Ro, baby, look at me,” he said gruffly, crouching in front of her, his hands cradling her shoulders.
“Goddess, Logan, what is happening to me?” With that question she raised her head revealing her face to him. Instead of finding himself staring into Ororo’s familiar intense blue eyes or even their cloudy white, Wolverine gazed into eyes that were swirling black, inky liquid like endless night. He took a ragged breath, pulling her into his arms, crushing her to him. She trembled.
“I don’t know, darlin’.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her, hugging her close. She buried her face in his neck, whispering his name.
“Scared,” she said softly.
“Me too, darlin’. Me too.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York


The students had been given the day off. Outside the sounds of laughter and happy children could be heard, but inside the X-Men’s War Room the air was heavy with silence, with questions and things best left unsaid.
Several sets of eyes flickered towards Ororo, who sat at the end of the long table, her hair pulled back, eyes shadowed with fatigue. Logan sat to her right, his strong fingers intertwined with her slender ones atop the dark oak. Gambit stood behind her, slightly to her left, his hand resting on her shoulder. He gave her a gentle squeeze. Along the table sat her friends and teammates, her family, she thought, her gaze resting on each one of them: Bobby, Rogue, Betsy, Warren, Peter, Kitty, Jean and Scott. The only family she’d ever really had. They were all so different, yet so much the same, their mutant genes tying them together in a bond of brotherhood. Up until this very moment she had felt as connected to each of them as she was connected to the planet. But now…
Professor Charles Xavier had called an emergency meeting after Scott had filled him in on the details of their trip to California and the attack. His first statement dumbfounded them all.
“What do you mean, she’s not a mutant?” Scott Summer’s broke the silence, his serious gaze moving from Storm to the Professor. It had been less than twelve hours since the incident in San Francisco, and none of the X-men were in high spirits, and Xavier’s statement gave them even less to be cheerful about.
“I did not mean to imply that Storm was not a mutant, Cyclops,” The projected image of the Professor spoke.
“She does, in fact, carry the mutant genome.” he continued. “However, it is Storm’s second heritage that we need be concerned with. Ororo is descendant from a long line of priestesses and sorceresses. And I, along with Hank and Jean believe it is that skill, those powers that are emerging.”
“A heritage I have never explored, Charles,” Ororo interjected. “Why manifest now?”
“A good question, and one Beast believes he may have the answer to. Henry.” The image of the Professor flickered, replaced by the furry features of Henry McCoy. The hairy mutant pushed his glasses higher on his feline nose, his tone very soft and serious as he spoke.
“After last night, the Professor and I began to speculate on the reasons behind these attacks against you, Storm. Since Gambit has returned and revealed that he had not taken you to New Orleans in order to repay a debt, but instead stated that he felt you were not safe here at the institute, we deduced that there was another reason behind his actions. He was under a compulsion.” Henry said. Again several eyes flicked their way, some apologetic, others wary and still others down right distrustful.
Gambit’s fingers flexed on Ororo’s shoulder. She reached up and patted his hand reassuringly.
“What’s a compulsion?” Bobby asked.
“That’s Cajun fer bullshit,” Logan grumbled. Ororo glared at him, he glowered right back. They had spent a majority of last night arguing over Gambit, and it irked the shit out of him that she was steadfast loyal to the bum. Even if he believed the swamp-rat, and he wasn’t altogether one hundred percent on that, the bastard still ran out on her while she lay on the ground bleeding to death. He growled low in his throat, casting Gambit a narrowed look.
“A compulsion,” Professor Xavier said, “is a subliminal command. It is embedded deep in the subconscious and once activated it is almost impossible to ignore. A person is compelled to follow the hidden command. I have scanned Gambit‘s mind and indeed there is a subliminal message, though faint, deep in his subconscious.”
“Similar to the one you gave me as a girl?” Ororo asked in a dull voice. Every person in the room looked thunderstruck. Xavier was momentarily disconcerted, at a loss for words. “Do not fret, Charles. I accepted that small fact years ago, and I do not regret my southern journey through Africa that lead me to you. It did leave a lasting impression though, and I do know the results of a compulsion implanted in your mind.” She looked at each person at the table, leveling them with her intensity. “You can not fight it, it eats away at you, keeps you up nights, drives you until you must obey, or go crazy.”
“Uh, yes,” Xavier said, looking slightly flustered. “That is what a compulsion does.”
After another momentary pause, Beast said, “Taking that into consideration we had to determine who would have the power to implant something like that in Gambit’s mind. Mentally scanning for other mutants revealed nothing, however I remembered that after the return from New Orleans Jean revealed that one of your attackers, Storm, was not a mutant, but something else entirely.”
Ororo looked at Jean inquiringly. “It was difficult to place,” Jean stated. “Because it was not a mutant, but it wasn’t human either. The only other time I have felt anything like that was while I was traveling through the galaxies as the Phoenix. I once traveled through a black hole and all around me I got the same kind of mental impression, although not as wholly malevolent as the caped figure in New Orleans, but eerily similar.”
“Yes, but what about the letter Ah got in the mail? What about Sabertooth and Mystique?” Rogue asked, her hazel eyes watching Gambit warily.
“Like I told, Stormy. Gambit would never do dat to her, much less be stupid enough t’ leave a letter announcing my plans.”
Rogue tossed the letter onto the table. “Look at it, Gambit. It’s your handwriting.”
“For Christ’s sake can we get off the letter,” Wolverine growled, irritated. “I appreciate that you and Gumbo are having a bit of a lover’s quarrel here, darlin’, and forgive me fer not bein’ a wee bit more sensitive t’ that fact, but we’ve got slightly bigger issues t’ deal with.”
Rogue looked away, her face flushed.
“I believe that Sabertooth and Mystique were duped in much the same fashion that we were,” Henry continued. “A command, a compulsion, a tip-off, any number of ploys to get them to New Orleans.”
“For what reason?” Scott asked.
“To kill Storm.” Henry said baldly.
“Non,” Gambit interjected. “Mystique said dat dey were under strict orders not t’ kill ‘er.”
“Then the attack was to weaken her.” Jean supposed. “But Sabertooth got carried away and killed her.”
“You mean nearly killed her.” Kitty corrected.
“No. She means killed me, Kitten.” Ororo said softly. “I died.”
Again a heavy silence filled the War Room. Logan turned his head, gazing at Ororo in surprise. She had never said anything to him about that night, except for the one comment she made that morning by the lake, when she had breathed “I came back for you.” Had she really come back from the dead for him? He felt his heart hitch. He tightened his grip on her hand and leaned into her, kissing her hair softly. “I love ya, darlin’” he murmured into her ear. Ororo leaned into his side, comforted by his strong presence.
“Interesting,” Beast was saying. “You remember dying?”
“Yes.”
“What can you tell us?” he asked.
Ororo looked around the room, and though she loved everyone in it, she was hesitant to speak of her experience. “I would rather not,” she said honestly.
“Ororo I can understand if it is painful for you to speak of, in spite of this, I must ask that you give us as much information as possible, in order to better understand what we are dealing with here.” Xavier interceded.
“How will my experience with death give you a better understanding of the creatures we are facing?”
“She doesn’t wanna talk about it, Chuck. Let it go.” Logan rumbled.
“Storm, we need as much information as you can give us. Anything that may help us understand what we are dealing with and why they want you dead so bad,” Scott spoke up, ignoring the warning growl issued from Wolverine.
Ororo sighed heavily. After a moment she began, “Dying was easy. All I had to do was let go. Of my fear, of my reservations, of myself. There was light all around me and warmth, so warm. There was the feeling of being disconnected and yet connected to everything. Freedom in its purist form.” She took a deep breath. “Then there was my mother. She was so beautiful,” Ororo’s eyes closed, he mouth curving in a soft smile. “An angel, I thought. To guide me home. But I did not go with her. So I let her go…again.” She opened her damp eyes, fixing them on Logan. “My heart refused to let go of this world completely.”
She turned to the rest of the room. “There is a void, between this world and the next. A black void filled with cold and dark and terror and pain. It does not hurt to pass through it on the way in, but to come back through it…” she shivered involuntarily. “It eats at you, tears your mind apart. I relived every wound inflicted on me, ten fold, and I remember finally pushing through the void, the relief I felt and then the next thing I remember is Logan. Holding me.”
“My God,” Jean said, wiping her eyes.
“Does that help at all?” Ororo asked, her voice raw.
“Actually, Ororo, yes it does.” Xavier said softly. “ I apologize for making you relive those moments. It does indeed help us though.” There was a pause as the Professor rustled through some documents that the X-men in the War Room could not see on their 3-D viewer. “I have here an old sorcerer’s book Illyana left me. I decided to look through it once I began to suspect that Ororo may be experiencing some effects of sorcery.” The room grew quite as the team remembered their fallen friend, Peter’s younger sister Magik. Ororo gave him a gentle smile and he returned it, well past the healing, remembering his beloved sister in fondness.
“It is a book she stole from Belasco.” Pages turning. “In it, he wrote of a sorceress so powerful that she would be able to open a doorway between the living and the realm of death. A wielder of magic so formidable that she would be impossible to defeat, unless killed before she fully developed her skills. A sorceress that will bring about the end of mankind.“ Xavier paused, brow furrowed. “He writes that this sorceress does not dwell in his time or his dimension, but he gives dimensional coordinates as to where he suspects her to be.” More pages turning. “It’s our Earth. Our time.” Xavier said, still reading. “Belasco also writes of a breed of demon, an enemy to the N'Garai called Daemonites. He describes them as the scourge of all possible universes.” Xavier holds up the book, exposing a picture to the camera, allowing everyone in the War Room to get a good look at the sketch in the book.
The creature was hideous looking, with a long narrow body, claws on it’s hands and feet, three sets of eyes, a forked tongue and wings like a bat.
“Goddess.” Ororo whispered.
“Seen it.” Wolverine stated, voice like ice.
“Me too.” Rogue added. “In mah head when that snake thingy attached itself ta me. Ah saw that thing in mah mind. It kept screaming for the doorway.” She glanced at Ororo guardedly.
“What? Surely you do not think I am this all powerful sorceress? The destroyer of mankind?” Ororo looked around the room at the uncertain faces surrounding her. “Do you?” she questioned quietly.
“Naw. Destroying the universe is Jean’s gig,” Bobby tried to joke, earning himself several contemptuous looks and a mental pinch from Jean. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It is a good possibility that these creatures believe that to be the case,” Henry stated, sidestepping the question. His evasion did not go unnoticed by Storm, whose grip on Logan’s hand became almost painful.
“So, what’re ya saying, Chuck? These demons set up Gumbo, set a trap to capture ‘Ro, but not t’ kill her, only t’ change their minds and want her dead? Don’t make sense.” Logan said shaking his head.
“No. What I believe has happened is that the N’Garai set the plan to capture Storm into motion, and it is them that are trying to keep the Daemonites from killing her.”
“Why? I mean I know N’Garais and they are evil. Pure evil,” said Kitty. “and those Daemon-thingy-magiggies don’t look too friendly either. Why would one race of demons protect Storm from the other?”
“Not protect, Katherine. Prevent. The Daemonites want her dead.” Scott said. “It is a smart tactical move on their part.”
“Excuse me?” Kitty gasped.
“Imagine if the F.O.H had a weapon capable of wiping out all mutants, of opening a door and shoving them all through it never to return. Wouldn’t you want to prevent them from using it. Storm is a weapon to the N’Garai, a powerful one at that, capable of wiping out the scourge of all universes by opening a doorway to a different dimension, including a death dimension and shoving them through it.”
“But, Scott, Charles, this theory is all contingent on me being an all powerful sorceress capable of opening portals between realms, which I can not. I would not even know how.” Storm argued.
“Ahh, but you already did.” Xavier said gravely.
Except for the occasional shuffle of feet or the clearing of a throat, a weighty silence filled the X-men’s War Room as each member surrounding the long rectangular table digested the information Professor Charles Xavier had just fed them.
Ororo sat shaking her head in denial, but a part of her recognized what Xavier was saying as the truth. Goddess, what was she going to do?

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York


Logan did not bother to knock on the ancient wooden doors blocking his entrance to the downstairs library, instead shoving them open and striding in unannounced. Ororo did not even look up from the book she had laid open on her lap. She was seated in one of the red leather wingback chairs in front of the fireplace, scattered at her feet were various slips of paper, opened books and several stacks of unopened books. She was chewing her bottom lip and scribbling in a journal that she had tipped against the arm of the chair. She shifted uncomfortably and rubbed one hand along the back of her neck. Logan paused, taking a moment to study her profile, he never seemed to tire of simply looking at her. She drove the breath right out of his body every time. Fine bones, smooth caramel skin, full rosy lips, glorious snow hair trailing across the back of her chair, tossed carelessly aside in her pursuit of information.
“In Japan, employees will occasionally work themselves to death. It's called Karoshi.“ he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’d hate fer that t’ happen t’ ya, darlin’.”
Ororo gave a small jerk at the sound of his graveled voice. “Logan, you startled me.” She gave him a half hearted smile. Knowing Ororo so well, Logan knew that the information laid on her today was taking its toll. He had given her space when she had asked for it earlier, telling him that she needed time to think and absorb everything that had happened to her. He hadn’t like it but he had complied. Now, after nearly ten hours he figured enough was enough.
“Ya’ve been down here all day, ‘Ro. Come upstairs, let me fix ya something to eat.” He stopped a few feet in front of her, held at bay by the barricade of papers and books she had formed at her feet.
“I am not hungry. Thank you anyway, Logan.” She went back to reading.
“’Ro. I ain’t askin’.” He grabbed the book from her hands, not caring that he was treading on her papers, crumbling them beneath his booted feet.
“Logan! What are you doing? Give me that!” She stood, reaching to grab the book back. He stepped away from her.
“No.” He said shaking his head firmly. She glared at him, but he could see the sadness beneath the anger. “Talk to me, babe. Ya ain’t said two words ta me since the briefing this morning.”
“And what, pray tell, would you like me to say, Logan?” She asked, absently shuffling the papers beside her.
“Tell me what yer thinking’.” he encouraged. “What yer feelin’. Open up t‘ me.”
“Oh, this is classic. I am being instructed to open up from mister recluse himself.” Her tone was mocking.
Logan said nothing. He didn’t have to. Immediately her eyes softened and she said, “Goddess, I am sorry. I did not mean that.” She began running her hands through her hair, pulling it away from her face in a timeless gesture of frustration.
“I know, darlin’.”
“I am just so aggravated. The more I research these creatures, this heritage of mine, the more confused I become.” She gestured to the piles of papers and books surrounding them. “Every place I look the information is limited, but what is available is terrifying.” She held up an old leather bound volume of some sort, a large Egyptian looking symbol etched on the cover. She opened it to a marked page, reading aloud: “The priestesses of Cairo have long been able to see the patterns of life that guide this planet. Their purpose is to observe and nurture, never manipulate. They are the destined protectors of the Guardian, the Daughter of Light, that will one day purify the world. The Daughter of Light will act as a doorway between all the realms of the universe, she will be the conduit for the universe’s secrets, and the Guardian of the realm of Earth.” Ororo looked up at him through dark lashed eyes. “I remember the Phoenix all too well, Logan and I remember what purification means to great powers such as these. Purification is just a nice way of saying Annihilation--burning away what does not work. I do not want to have to face another force such as that, not now, not ever again.”
“Whose ta say that this Daughter of Light even exists, huh?” he questioned. “And if it does, we’ll stop it before these Demon-thingys get t’ use it. Whatever it takes.”
Ororo gave a humorless laugh. “And what if we discover that I am this Daughter of the Light? What then, Logan? What then?”
Instead of answering, Logan reached out, stroking her cheek, touching her hair, letting it slide through his fingers in a silken waterfall. He pulled her into his arms. She went effortlessly, her head resting on his shoulder, her heavy heart comforted by his presence. She felt his lips on her cheek and smiled. Oh, how she loved this man. She knew she alone was privy to this side of Logan. His soft side, full of tenderness and understanding, full of love and acceptance. Only for her.
“C’mon, let’s get you something’ to eat.” He slipped his hand into hers, pulling her towards the door.
Ororo stopped, tugging Logan to a halt. With a wave of her hand, a heavy breeze slammed the library doors closed. Logan raised one eyebrow in question.
“I find I am hungry for other things,” Ororo said by way of explanation. She tilted her head, and her mouth to his. When their lips were only a breath apart she whispered, “I hunger for you, dearest, Logan. I want to feel you inside of me.”
Logan growled, low and deep and fierce. He was instantly aroused by her statement, his body throbbing for hers. She smiled up at him, her blue eyes dancing. He captured her mouth with his, his tongue delving into the dark moist heat of hers, pushing against her teeth, teasing her tongue. She sighed, eyes sliding shut, arms wrapping around his neck.
Lowering her to the red and gold oriental rug, one arm curved under her slender waist the other slowing their descent, Logan began murmuring against her soft lips. Words of love and groans of pleasure, letting her know he was enjoying the feel of her untutored hands exploring his chest and shoulders. Without warning Ororo grasped his shirt in both hands, rending it apart, buttons flying across the carpet and skittering across the hardwood floor.
His deep rumble told her that he liked this aggressive side of her. She gently bit his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. “Ahhh, ‘Ro…” he groaned, grinding himself against her. He was rock hard underneath his faded jeans.
Ororo captured his chin between her hands, looking at his rugged face, her eyes memorizing everything about this man who was her heart, her soul. Logan opened his eyes, pupils dilated, searching her crystal blue depths. She smiled up at him, tenderness and affection and unconditional acceptance emitting from her in waves, washing over him, making it difficult for him to breathe.
On her name, he nuzzled her neck just below her ear, a spot, he discovered, that caused goose bumps to spread over her body and the most delightful little moans to escape from her mouth. He began sliding her pale blue shirt up over her flat stomach, baring her satin flesh for his perusal, but again she stopped him, placing her hands over his.
“No,” she whispered heatedly “do it like only you can.” A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.
Logan slowly extended one long claw, watching her eyes intensely. He saw no fear in them, only passion. Raw need. For him. Only him. He wanted to roar with the pleasure of it, of her. With excruciating tenderness he lay the blunt edge of his claw against her soft skin, sliding his hand upwards, slicing through the silken fabric, causing ‘Ro to arch her back beneath him, releasing a sultry sigh. God, she was amazing.
Slender fingers tangled in the ebony thickness of his hair, pulling his face down to hers for a lingering kiss. Ororo slid her hands beneath the edges of his red and black flannel shirt, sliding it over his shoulders removing it. “I love your skin,” she whispered, mouth brushing his neck, his shoulders, his chest. She loved the salty taste of him, the way he smelled like the outdoors, fresh and full of life. She loved the way he growled low and deep when he was aroused. Everything. She loved everything about him.
She gasped when she felt his hand slide along her calf, edging over her thigh, sliding beneath the folds of her dark brown skirt, over her pink laced panties. He groaned at the obstruction her lingerie caused. “Underwear, ‘Ro?”
“What,” she asked breathlessly, her hips raising against the heavy heat of his palm. “I can not go commando all the time.”
“Mmm. If I had my way ya’d never wear clothes again.” Logan slid one finger past the lacy undergarment, delving inside her damp center, causing her to moan.
“God, ‘Ro, ya feel so damn good.”
“As do you,” she replied, voice husky. He stroked his hand against the laced undergarments while his solitary digit slid in and out of her. She was panting, her teeth nipping his shoulder.
“Spread yer legs, baby,” he growled fiercely. She did as he commanded without hesitation, trusting him in every way. Logan ran his hands up the outside of her smooth thighs, bunching up the long skirt as he went, until she lay open for his hungry gaze. “Perfect.” he said hoarsely. He lowered his head, his mouth and tongue teasing her sensitive skin through the lace barrier.
“Goddess…” Ororo cried, her breath hissing out from between clenched teeth, her hips leaping of the carpet involuntarily. He tortured her mercilessly, reveling in her cries and whimpers until she stiffened, her mouth open on a silent scream as she found release beneath his skillful mouth. He grinned his wicked grin, looking up at her, slipping the damp undergarments from her body, followed by her long skirt.
Logan reached for the fastening of his pants, but was taken aback when Ororo pitched forward, pushing him down on his haunches, a devilish twinkle in her eyes. Her deft fingers made quick work of the denim hindrance, freeing him from the cramped space of his jeans. She leaned forward, lashes lowered and Logan held his breath. There was no way she was going to do what it looked---
“Oh, God, ‘Ro…” Her warm mouth closed over the rock-hard evidence of his arousal. Her tongue swirled around the head, licking along his length. His hips surged forward eagerly. He burrowed his hands in her silky-smooth hair, growling in pleasure. She murmured incoherently against him and the tiny vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. “’Ro.” He tried to lift her to him but she was relentless. Pushing him to the edge, her hands stroking along his skin, cupping him reverently.
Slowly Ororo released him from her mouth, crawling over him, pressing his back into the floor. She smiled down at him, mouthing the words I love you, her hair enveloping them in a shimmering cocoon. She ran her fingertips along his bare chest, down his well developed stomach, gripping the waistline of his jeans, hauling them off with one forceful pull.
Both now naked, Ororo made her way slowly back up Logan’s torso, her mouth skimming his fevered flesh, her tongue lapping his dark nipples, lingering over his neck, until she straddled him, her humid center directly over his powerful erection. With agonizing care Ororo lowered herself, taking all of him in one long, slow glide. Logan grunted, throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut from the raw pleasure. “’Ro.” His hands reached up, caressing her generous breasts, grazing her coffee nipples with the coarse pads of his thumbs, turning them into tight peaks. He rolled them between his fingers, curving his back, driving himself even further into her.
“Logan!” Ororo tossed her head back, eyes closed, moving up and down on him with increasing rhythm, riding him. Her fingernails raked along his chest leaving crimson streaks in their wake. Their sting was fleeting as his body healed her love marks almost instantly. A part of him wished that they would remain, a reminder of how feral his goddess could be. Ororo ground herself into him, her sheath clenching around him as she approached climax.
Unable to bear her sweet torment a minute more, Logan surged upwards, rolling his hips, flipping them so that she lay beneath him, her silver tresses fanned about her head like a halo.
“Yer so beautiful.” he whispered, voice raw with awe. She gazed up at him with sapphire eyes, her damp lips curved faintly. He thrust into her, causing her head to roll back as she cried out his name. His. She was his. “Magnificent.”
He surged again, deeper this time, clasping his hands to her hips, holding her to him. Ororo tilted into him, pushing forward, her mouth seizing his, delivering hot, frenzied kisses. Logan grunted relishing in the way her legs clamped around his back and her arms clung to his neck. She was crying out in rapture, body arching beneath his, words of love cascading from her lips, tickling his ear.
“Come fer me, darlin’.” He plunged deeper, pushing her to her limits. “Let me feel ya, ‘Ro.” He touched his lips to hers, slightly parted, sharing the same breath. “I love ya, ‘Ro. God, how I love ya.” He grasped her hands, interlacing their fingers beside her head. Gazes locked, foreheads touching, fingers intertwined, clutching each other, Ororo and Logan found release together, their cries filling the library, echoing off the walls. His hoarse and guttural, hers velvet and melodic, complimenting each other in perfect harmony.
Panting softly they stared deep into the other’s eyes, neither wanting to break contact. Ororo touched Logan’s stubbled jaw, saying softly, “Beautiful.”
She felt a damp splash against her cheek. Reaching up Ororo was not surprised when she felt the warm wetness of tears on her skin, what surprised her was that the tears didn’t belong to her, they belonged to Logan.
Without a word she pulled him to her, wrapping herself around him like a clinging vine. He buried his face in the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing in her scent, their scent, the mixture that they created together. As they lay in stillness, holding each other close, Logan whispered, “Ororo, marry me.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Downstairs Library


Ororo Munroe was not a person normally at a loss for words, but she suddenly found herself struck dumb, unable to form even the simplest of them. It took her a full minute to find her voice. “Logan?”
Raising himself on one elbow Logan trailed the back of his knuckles down the silken smoothness of Ororo’s cheek, his eyes darkening till they were almost black. “Marry me.”
“That is what I thought you said.” she murmured, blinking wide eyes.
Logan chuckled at her dumbfounded expression. “Ya gonna answer?” he asked after she still said nothing, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.
“Logan--”
“Wait. Don’t move.” Logan released his hold on her, reaching for his pants. He dug into his front pocket, pulling out a small black velvet box. He rolled back over to her, lifting the lid revealing the box’s hidden treasure. Ororo’s breath caught in her throat. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever laid eyes upon. A large diamond sat atop a band of gold in the dark center of the box, its facets twinkling in the firelight, joined on both sides of the clear stone sat a pair of slightly smaller sapphires, their blue the deepest she’d ever seen. Before she could say anything Logan was talking, his voice low and graveled with passion.
“I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ‘Ro. It won’t be easy being my wife. I’m sure I’ll frustrate ya, and infuriate ya and drive ya nuts but I’ll also love ya. I’ll spend every day making sure ya know how much ya mean t’ me, how happy ya make me, and I’ll never let ya go, baby. Yer my heart, my very soul. I need ya in my life, ’Ro. I ain’t whole without ya. See how much I love ya? Ya got me blubbering like an imbecile.” He took a ragged breath, looking for the first time in the many years that she’d known him, unsure of himself. “So what say ya, darlin’? Are ya up to makin’ this ol’ canucklehead an honest man?”
Ororo bit her lip, she was afraid that the future they were facing was dark and bleak and the road ahead of them would be long and painful. There were just so many unknowns to face, so much uncertainty, but her heart, her steadfast heart, ignored any warnings her brain was trying to send to it.
Instead of vocalizing any answer Ororo pulled Logan to her, kissing him softly, butterfly kisses along his lips, across his whiskered chin, up to the swirls of his ear, where she whispered, “I meriwet ek djet, hi. Djet.”
The softly spoken words sounded pleasing to him. Her teasing mouth against his sensitive flesh distracted him for a moment causing Logan to growl fiercely. “Is that a yes?” He asked, pulling her away from his ear, her tongue against his skin a wicked diversion.
Ororo laughed up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Yes!” To hell with doubts and fears and questions. This was right! They were right together. Ororo threw her arms around his neck, laughing at the look of stunned disbelief on his face. “Why do you look so surprised?” she asked, her mouth once again stroking the creases in his ear.
“Truth of it is I expected t’ have ta do a little convincing,” he confessed on a groan.
“Well, I do not wish to be too easy a conquest for you,” she teased. “Perhaps I should take some time to consider the offer.”
Logan bared his teeth at her, grasping her left hand firmly in his, sliding the ring on her third finger. A perfect fit. “Ya had yer chance t’ say no, now yer stuck with me,” he growled, but his smile never left his face, making the menacing sound seem ridiculously out of place. Ororo laughed, happier than she dreamed she could ever be.
Looking down at the sparkling ring on her hand Ororo ran her index finger over the stones. “These are the most lovely shade of blue,” she murmured.
“Yeah. They’re a perfect match to yer eyes when I do this,” Logan said running his hand up her leg, stroking her center.
Instantly her eyes darkened and her breath became trapped in her lungs. “Really?” she whispered.
“Really.” Logan pressed her down into the carpet. His mouth claimed hers heatedly, the time for talking over.



*I meriwet ek djet, hi. Djet = I will love you forever husband. Forever. (Egyptian)

Disclaimer: Still not mine, although they really should be. But they aren’t. Friggin’ lawyers…

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Early Morning


Jean Grey Summers sat with her head in her hands, red hair obscuring most of her face. She was trying not to think of the nightmares that had plagued her the night before, but it was difficult. In her mind visions of the Phoenix kept appearing, wings out, its shriek echoing in her head.
“Good morning, Jean. You are up early.” Ororo stepped through the swinging doors clad in her favorite robe, hair wrapped in a towel from her shower.
“Oh, hey, Storm.” Jean lifted her head, greeting her best friend with a weak smile.
“Is everything all right?” Ororo asked, reaching into an overhead cupboard pulling out two coffee cups. “You look tired.”
Jean shook her head. “Just some bad dreams, nothing to--Oh my God!” She rose from her seat knocking the wooden chair to the floor, rushing to Storm’s side. “Is that what I think it is?” She grabbed Ororo’s hand, holding it up to the streaming sunlight.
Ororo positively beamed. “Uh-huh.”
“Let me just say again--Oh. My. God!” Jean wrapped her arms around Ororo both jumping up and down in a circle, laughing and squealing. “When? Where? How?” Jean pulled Ororo to the table, picking up her fallen chair and sitting across from Storm, still holding her left hand.
“Last night. In the library. Naked.”
“That is so…did you just say naked?” Jean’s fiery eyebrows rose.
Ororo blushed. She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, but she was just so happy and excited, and seeing Jean’s excitement made her feel even more buoyant.
“It’s beautiful.” Jean said, voice hushed with awe.
“What’s beautiful?” Betsy Braddock strolled into the kitchen, having just come from her morning workout session, white towel wrapped around her neck, sweat dripping from her brow.
In response Jean hauled Ororo’s hand up towards Betsy’s face. Betsy looked positively shocked. “Wolverine?”
Ororo glanced at Betsy like she was cracked. “Who else?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. It’s just a bit surprising the two of you. And then not so surprising,” she murmured, reflectively. Both Jean and Ororo looked at her funny. “I know, I know, I’m talking in riddles, blame my Japanese training.” she laughed. “That little devil said nothing during our session this morning.”
“I do not imagine there is much polite conversation in the stealth sessions,” Storm said with a smile. “How did it go?”
“Oh, fairly well if you consider I didn’t get any closer than a hundred yards to the man, and landed on my ass more times than a Rodeo clown.”
“Then you and I faired about the same,” Ororo said with laughing sympathy.
The three women sat around the table smiling and laughing, each examining Ororo’s ring with feminine awe. So engrossed in their conversations they did not see the swinging doors open or notice the man dressed in black leaning on the doorjamb until he cleared his throat.
“Thought ya was bringing some coffee, darlin’?”
Ororo tilted her head, smiling in warm welcome. “Sorry about that, love. I got distracted.” She rose walking over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck in greeting.
Logan hugged his strong arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet fresh scent. She had called him love, he thought with a grin. He kissed her softly on the mouth. “Yer forgiven.”
From the table Jean and Betsy grinned, happily surprised by the loving exchange between their feral warrior and their normally reserved ice goddess.
*Who knew?* Jean sent to Betsy, meaning the compatibility of Logan and Ororo.
*I think we all did on some level.* Betsy sent back. *They are the quintessential Yin and Yang.*
*Isn’t that a Chinese principle?*
*Yep. But I’m multi-cultured. Unlike some of you Western yahoos.* Betsy laughed out loud at the image Jean sent her of poking her tongue out.
“You chose well, Wolverine.” Betsy said sincerely.
“I chose the best.” He concurred.
“I believe I had a choice in this as well,” Ororo said lightly.
“Yeah, but there’s no accounting for taste in some people,” Betsy teased.

News of Wolverine and Storm’s engagement traveled throughout the mansion faster than a wildfire in the dry season. Every female in the house was stopping Ororo in the hallway, or during classes, wanting to gawk at her luxurious ring, and men and boys alike were giving Logan nods of approval and from some he sensed stunned disbelief. Not that he could blame them, after all he still had a hard time believing that she had accepted him.
There were some members of the X-family that were less than thrilled for the match, most notably Scooter and Gumbo. Neither one had seemed to approve of the pairing, not that he gave a rat’s ass about anyone’s approval, but it irked him that they refused to be happy for Storm. Fuck ‘em if they didn’t like him, but she didn’t deserve anyone bringing her down.
Logan was making his way to the Danger Room to work off some steam when he spotted Gambit leaning against the hallway wall. He fully intended on walking by ignoring the guy, but as he approached Gambit looked up, saying, “So you and Stormy gettin’ married, henh?”
Wolverine said nothing, just kept walking, he had told Storm he wouldn’t give the Cajun a hard time. However, all bets were off when Gambit placed a restraining hand on his arm. Wolverine turned with teeth bared, claws extending with their trademark -SNIKT-. “Whaddya want, Gumbo.” His voice held more than a hint of irritation. There were many who backed down from that tone alone.
Instead of stepping away, Gambit straightened to his full height, looking at Wolverine with a deep scowl. “Ya’d better not hurt her,” Gambit warned.
Wolverine rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Storm‘s a big girl, Gumbo. She can take care of herself. She doesn‘t need you playing big brother any more.”
“I‘ll always be der for Stormy, Wolverine. Get used t‘ it.”
“Like ya were there for her when she lay bleeding ta death on the ground in New Orleans.” Wolverine‘s voice deepened into a savage snarl.
“What ‘appened is somet’in I can’t change, no matter how much I want to. Just know dis, Wolverine, der are very few people Remy willing t’ die for. Stormy be at the top of dat list.” For a brief moment his eyes held Wolverine’s glowing like the pits of Hell. With that comment the tall Cajun turned away, slowly vanishing into the shadows of the hallway.
“I’m gonna gut that guy someday,” Logan muttered savagely, watching Gambit walk away with predatory eyes.
“He means it, yah know.” Rogue said as she stepped from the elevator, the one Wolverine was waiting for. “He’d die for her.”
Something in her manner bothered Logan. She seemed distant and angry, but showed no outward signs of it. “Is that jealousy I smell?”
Rogue shook her head. “Can’t be jealous of a man’s religion.” her voice carried a hard edge.
“Wanna explain that little comment, darlin‘?”
Rogue looked ready to refuse, but then said, “He worships her, Logan. To him Storm is a goddess, and he is unworthy. It’s sad. Ah feel for him, he is so lost right now. Storm is the only constant Remy has had in his life, and now you’re taking her away from him.”
Wolverine realized that Rogue was indeed jealous, but not of Storm, she was jealous for Gambit. Saying all the things the Cajun would never say. Wolverine glowered at her, growling, “I ain’t takin’ ‘Ro anywhere, kiddo. She’s a grown woman and she makes her own choices.”
“Ah know. All Ah’m saying is cut Remy some slack, Logan. He has enough guilt weighing him down, he doesn’t need ya adding to it.”
“Hey, he approached me. I didn’t go looking fer him.”
“Ya would have eventually, Wolverine.” Rogue patted his shoulder stepping past him. “Congratulations, by the way. Nice job on the ring.”
Wolverine said nothing. He watched Rogue follow the path Gambit had taken, knowing she was going to make the first step in fixing her and Gumbo’s tattered relationship. Logan stepped onto the elevator, pushing the button for the Danger Room with one of his still extended claws. He was suddenly anxious to get to training. He’d run exercise twenty-four Alpha, opponent Gambit, and gut himself a Cajun. Logan grinned. Yep that sounded just fine.

“I should ‘ave ‘eard it from you, Stormy.” Were the first words out of Gambit’s mouth when he found Ororo seated beneath one of the large willow trees beside the lake. She was reading, the cool spring breeze rustling the pale yellow hem on her sundress. She pulled off her dark sunglasses, as he approached, placing them on the brim of the straw hat that was currently keeping her hair out of her face. She continued to watch him silently as he knelt on one knee in front of her.
“I can only assume that you are referring to my engagement.” She said once he was settled.
“What de hell else would I be talkin’ about?” He asked curtly. “It shoulda come from you, chere. Instead I ‘ave to ‘hear the news from some chattering teenager. Why didn’t ya tell Remy dat you and de Wolverine were gettin‘ married?”
“Well, for starters I did not know myself until yesterday evening. And secondly, you have been dodging me since yesterday morning, so it was rather difficult to fill you in, considering this is the first time I have seen you since the briefing.” Ororo slammed the book on her lap shut. “So, Gambit, the real question is: why are you avoiding me?”
Gambit plucked a handful of grass from the ground in agitation. He looked out across the lake, watching the sunlight shimmer across the surface of the water, closing his eyes when he felt Ororo’s hand brush a lock of his auburn hair behind his ear.
“Remy, you were the first person I wanted to tell. I went to your room last night but you were not there.” Ororo said honestly.
Gambit still said nothing. In truth he had been in Ororo’s attic loft, waiting for her to show up so that he could speak with her. He had wanted to apologize for leaving her in New Orleans regardless of the circumstances. He should have been there for her. The knowledge that she had actually died set heavy on his heart.
“Remy.” She took his hand. “Congratulate me.”
“I’m not so sure marrying de Wolverine is cause for congratulations or condolences,” he said half serious. “I don’t get what ya see in him, padnat.”
“Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.”
“Uh-hn.” Gambit looked into her eyes. Reflected in them he saw happiness and fulfillment like he’d never seen in their depths before. If it was Wolverine who put it there, then Gambit had no choice but to be happy for her. Her happiness was evident in the warm sunshine, the gentle breezes and in that mysterious smile of hers that was appearing more and more frequently.
“Congratulations, padnat. I want nothing but yer happiness.”
Ororo leaned her head against the tree. “I know, brother.”
Gambit scooted until his back was pressed to the trunk of the tree beside hers. “What’re you reading?”
“It is a book of spells I found in the library.” She said a bit hesitantly.
“’Ave you tried any of dem?”
“Not yet. I am not sure I am even going to.”
“Why not. It could be fun. Come on, try one wit’ me.” He opened the book flipping the pages. “Dis one looks good.”
Ororo looked down at the page Gambit was pointing to. It was a growth spell.
“Could be interesting, non?” He gave her a teasing leer.
“You are a shameless flirt, LeBeau.”
“Guilty.” He shrugged. “But I’m serious, chere. Try it.” Gambit nudged the book at her encouragingly.
“Alright.” She took the book from him. After studying the words for moment Ororo stood, Gambit with her. “Okay, here goes…” Ororo placed her hand against the cracked bark of the willow tree, palm flat and muttered, “Al terra du tantus al termes.”
Gambit looked at her expectantly.
After a short period Ororo shrugged. “I do not think anyth--”
Beneath their feet the ground rumbled, knocking them slightly off balance. Erupting from the soil, the roots of the willow tree were now spreading themselves along the grass. After a moment they stopped and Gambit raised one eyebrow at Storm. “Impressive, padnat. You were saying?”
Ororo closed the book with a sharp thwap. She sank back down to the ground, shaking. “I was hoping it was not true,” she whispered.
“Hey, easy, padnat. Dis is a good t’ing, non?”
“No, Remy. This is not a good thing.” Ororo flung the book aside.
“Ah hope Ah’m not interrupting anything.” Rogue said as she approached the two of them under the willow tree.
“What do you want?” Gambit asked, voice hard.
“Um..Ah uh…” Rogue seemed to be at a loss for words.
“I should get back.” Ororo said, moving to pick up her blanket and tossed aside book.
“I’ll walk ya.” Gambit said taking her arm.
“No. I could use some alone time. Thank you anyway.” Ororo gave Rogue a fleeting smile before heading back to the Institute.
Rogue looked at Gambit, who was staring after Ororo’s retreating figure. “Can we talk?” she asked haltingly.
Gambit was about to tell her to take a dip in the lake, but in much less friendly terms when it occurred to him that if Storm could talk to him after all that had happened then the least he could do was speak with Rogue. He looked down into her hazel eyes and felt the familiar kick in his gut. “Yeah, chere. We can talk.”

Later
“And ya made the tree grow?” Logan asked spooning a mound of beef stew into his mouth.
“Well, not the whole tree, but the roots.” Ororo responded. “They came right up out of the ground.”
“Hm. Good stew.”
“Good stew? I tell you I performed magic today and you say good stew?”
“It’s good stew.” he defended.
“Right.” Ororo took a sip of her beer. Beer. Logan grinned. “What?” she asked.
“Nothin’.” He chewed his stew.
They sat in silence. The night air washed over the couple seated on Ororo’s balcony, stirring their hair, caressing their skin. Ororo leaned her head back, enjoying it.
“I’ll finish fixin’ the doors tomorrow.” Logan said, inclining his head towards the two door frames leaning against the wall of the Institute.
Ororo nodded. “Thank you.”
She remembered Logan’s face when he had seen the shattered glass and splintered wood when they had arrived back from San Francisco.
“You did this?” he had said taking in the damage. She had simply nodded, saying, “I was in a hurry.”
“Just how did you know the team was in trouble?” he had asked.
“I did not know the team was in trouble,” she had responded. “I knew you needed me. I felt it here.” She had placed her hand over her heart.
“Next time you wanna make yer own personal jet stream how about ya open the doors first,” Logan said bringing her back to the present.
“How about you try and keep yourself out of trouble.” she returned.
Logan leaned back in his seat. “It wasn’t my trouble.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to kick himself in the ass. Ororo’s bright eyes dimmed and she looked away from him, out over the courtyard.
“Hey.” Logan reached across the table, taking her chin in his hand, turning her head so that she had to look at him. “We’re a team. A family. All fer one and all that shit.”
“Poetic.” Ororo said dimly, but he could see the smile returning to her eyes.
“Come here.” Logan tugged her arm, pulling her out of her seat and into his lap. He touched the side of her face reverently, cupping her cheek in his palm. Ororo leaned into his touch automatically and Logan took pleasure in how easily and naturally she responded to him. He pressed his lips to hers tenderly, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth. She sighed, eyes fluttering shut, lost in his embrace.

Later

“Will it always be like this?” Ororo whispered against Logan’s sweat dampened chest. She was sprawled across him, too weak to move.
“Always.” He sounded very certain, which made her smile. He sunk his fingers into her tousled hair.
“You make me feel so loved, Logan.“
“That’s because ya are, darlin’.“
“I never thought I could be this happy,“ Ororo confessed.
“Me either, ‘Ro. But you make me feel things I ain’t never felt before.“ He kissed her softly. Then again. And again.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Ororo asked as he rolled, pushing her back into the mattress, settling himself between her parted legs.
“Of this? Are you crazy?” Logan grinned. Lifting one of her long legs he gave her bare backside a playful spank.
“I love you, Mountain Man.” Ororo wrapped her arms around his corded neck, pulling him against her.
“And I love ya, Windrider. With all my heart.”


Al terra du tantus al termes: (Loosely translated from Latin): From the earth the branches grow.

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York

It was late evening at the Institute and most of the household members were deep asleep. The sounds of the night were comforting to Ororo and Logan, who lay in one another’s arms, wide awake, staring at each other. It had become a nightly ritual with them, to lay in stillness, listening to the night creeping all around them, lost in each others eyes.
Seven weeks had past since Xavier had told them all that he believed Ororo was manifesting the sorceress powers inherited from her mother, and despite the dramatic turn of events, they had been the most blissful weeks of Ororo and Logan’s lives.
At first Ororo had been hesitant to relax and enjoy her mandatory two month inactive status, instead training daily with Wolverine and practicing magic with Gambit. She had even convinced Jean to teach her some exercises that would help her build her already formidable psychic defenses. And when she wasn’t training she was with Logan. Sometimes they were found in the woods behind the mansion, strolling hand in hand, or spotted going on one of their long motorcycle rides, but more often than not they were found at the lake, sitting at the water’s edge, Ororo between Logan’s bent knees, his burly arms wrapped around her, chin on her head, just talking.
As soon as the Professor had returned from Genosha Storm and Wolverine had sought him out and told him of their engagement. Charles had seemed genuinely pleased with the match. This had surprised Logan. The entire time he had been pursuing Jean, Xavier had sent clear signals that he had disapproved of that, even before Red and Slim had been married. But now, the man seemed almost proud of him, bestowing them both with warm congratulations.
They had spent most of that first afternoon of Xavier‘s return with Xavier. He had wanted to scan ‘Ro’s mind, but in the end the results were of no real benefit. He had told her that he had sensed a slumbering consciousness within her, like a part of herself was hidden, locked away. Ororo had taken that in stride, it had always been that way, her having a part of herself locked away-- even from the Professor.
Logan had asked about her MRI and if they had determined whether or not the changes had signified anything. Xavier deduced that, more than likely, the new activity in an otherwise dormant region of Ororo’s brain was also related to her sorceress roots. Once again Ororo took the news in stride, surprising them with her easy acceptance.
Though Ororo had tried to persuade him, it became clear during the meeting that the Professor wasn’t going to let her back on active until her two months of recuperation were up. Logan wholeheartedly agreed with the decision. As a result Ororo began spending a lot of time with Jean and Hank, going over the few books that they had on hand that held any relevant information on the Daemonites or the Daughter of the Light.
Xavier gave Ororo the book Illyana had left him. It was in Ilyanna’s book that she found the most information, but even that was limited. The e book held within it some information about the long standing feud between the Daemonites and the N’Garai, but aside form a brief history of the two species and Belasco’s predictions of the ‘Doorway Sorceress’, which they had already heard, the book offered little more.
Logan knew ’Ro was often frustrated by the inadequate resources and confusing findings, and since there wasn’t much else he could do for her, each night he simply held her until her shoulders relaxed and her body molded to his.
The days continued to pass, and each day that passed without incident the more at ease Ororo became. Sure the X-Men were still sent out on missions, fighting several odd deranged psycho mutants hell-bent on world domination or some ignorant anti-mutant activists that were taking their hate a bit too far, but those were situations they were all used to.
Wolverine had been sent to Arizona for two days on a search and rescue, but he had called both nights, breaking protocol, just to tell her goodnight. At the memory Ororo smiled tenderly.
Logan, whose steely gaze had been resting on her lips, noticed her tender smile, and leaned forward brushing his mouth against hers. It was amazing to him how easily she brought out his want to nurture and protect. No to say that there were not also times that she brought out his urge to kill and posses. The night he had returned from Arizona he had found ‘Ro in the downstairs rec room, her head on the Cajun’s lap, fast asleep. When he had walked in the room, following her unique scent, he had wanted to slice first- ask questions later. But he didn’t because he knew ‘Ro, and knew without a doubt that she loved him. He also knew that she was true to her friends and loyal (to a fault) to Gambit. So instead of disconnecting Gumbo’s head from the rest of his body, he had simply strode forward and lifted Ororo into his arms giving Gambit a hard stare.
Ororo had immediately pushed her face into his neck, still sleeping, murmuring, “Logan, my love…” and instantly the beast within him had been soothed, tamed by her velvet voice, still numb with sleep, and her instinctive act of pressing herself closer to him.
She was staring at him now with eyes still dark from their shared passion, hair laying across the pillow in damp tendrils. She was absolutely breathtaking, and Logan still had a hard time believing his good fortune. People like him didn’t get happy endings. People like him didn’t deserve happy endings, he thought, thinking of all the atrocities he’d committed unwilling and otherwise.
Sensing the subtle shift in his mood Ororo’s brow creased. “Is everything all right, Logan?” She ran her fingers through his hair, across his jaw.
Looking at her he nodded, hugging her close. “‘Ro, I’m lying in bed with the woman I love, my future wife, who apparently can’t seem to get enough of having her wicked way with me,” he added as her lips tickled his neck. “So, yeah everything is all right-- everything’s just perfect.” His voice took on a husky growl, his lips capturing hers.

Later
Logan was hungrily kneading Ororo’s hips when a scream split the night air, reverberating off the walls and in their minds.
“Jean!” They said in unison, rolling from the bed.
Together they sprinted down the stairs, Ororo clutching her robe closed, Logan clad in boxers and claws, racing towards Jean and Scott’s bedroom. As they approached, the wood of Jean and Scott’s bedroom door began to warp, buckling outward.
“Get down!” Logan roared, covering Ororo’s head with his arms, pushing her to the ground as the wood splintered, erupting into the hallway in jagged splinters, some with enough force to embed themselves into the wall, several finding their mark in him.
Jean’s form stood in the doorway, flames racing up and down her body, eyes glowing. She pointed her hand towards where Ororo and Logan kneeled, his body still covering hers. When she spoke it was the voice of the Phoenix that came out, “Khewew-ii-en-etj, Netjret!” {Evil is coming for you, Goddess!}
“What’s she saying?” Logan asked, shielding Ororo from the flames Jean was whipping into the hall.
“Trust me, you do not want to know!” Ororo said, trying to maneuver herself out from under Logan.
“’Ro! Stay down!” He growled. Turning his head he shouted, “Jeannie! Calm down!”
“Funny little man, you think to save her! You can not save her!” With that the Phoenix flung out her arm, sending Wolverine flying through the air, smashing through the far wall, leaving a gaping hole to the outside.
“Logan!” Ororo stared in horror at the spot Wolverine had exited the mansion. Where was everyone else? Had they not heard the commotion? Ororo looked around at the closed bedroom doors. Something didn’t feel right. Before she could dwell on it she saw flames licking the carpet under her fingers. Ororo shot to her feet, hands stinging.
“Now, where were we?” Phoenix asked. Blood red flames shot high into the air, the Phoenix’s shriek filling the mansion. Ororo clamped her hands over her ears in pain.
As soon as the shrieking subsided she called forth the winds at her command to push Jean away from her. The Phoenix withstood the hurricane gale, laughing, unmoved.
“You’ll have to do better than that if you want to survive what’s to come!” A blast of raw power struck Ororo dead center in her chest, sending her careening across the carpet and onto the hardwood floor. She slammed her palms into the wooden floorboards, nails raking the finish, pushing herself to her feet.
At once Phoenix sent out another blast of energy. Crossing her arms over her face Ororo instinctively shouted, “Em Sau!” {Protect!} creating a dark shield around her body, deflecting the Phoenix’s attack.
“Better.“ said Phoenix. “But not good enough! Come, Windrider, let’s see if you have what it takes to be a true Sat-ne a’nekh.” {Daughter of Light} With that the Phoenix burst open the ceiling, soaring out into the night sky. Without hesitation Ororo followed.
Once outside Ororo found the Phoenix in the center of the courtyard, holding Wolverine by the scruff of his neck. Landing a few feet away, she approached cautiously, saying, “Let him go!”
Phoenix tilted her head. “You know, Storm, he loved me once.” She leaned into Logan’s face, “Isn’t that right, Wolverine. Tell her you love me.”
“Fuck off.” Wolverine snarled between clenched teeth.
Phoenix smiled, then looking Storm straight in the eye punched her hand inside Wolverine’s chest and ripped his heart out, blood dripping between her fingers. She held it up for Storm to see.
“I believe this belongs to you.”
“LOGAAAAAAAAAN!!!!”

“’Ro! Wake up! Jesus Christ, ‘Ro! Wake up!”
Ororo blinked her eyes repeatedly, trying to focus. It was hard to do, someone was screaming and screaming. A chair slammed into the wall above her head, breaking apart on impact.
The winds were howling and outside thunder boomed continuously, lightening turning night to day, hail slamming through the windows, raining glass everywhere.
“’Ro, come back to me, baby! Come on! There are three goddamn F-5 tornados coming straight at us!” A grunt as a piece of debris caught him in the head.
“L-Logan?” The screaming stopped. Oh, it was her.
“Turn ‘em off, darlin’.” he said, dodging another piece of flying furniture, trying to make his way toward her, sinking his claws into the floor.
Outside Ororo heard the unmistakable roar of multiple tornados. She tensed when one of the black Hummers the team kept in the front driveway slammed into the outside wall of the Institute, flames flaring up into the sky as it dropped onto the ground.
“’Ro!”
Ororo’s eyes went cloudy white, her hands weaving patterns in the air as she soothed the monster she had awakened. After only a brief moment the sky cleared, winds dying down. Wolverine watched as the funnel clouds that had been rearranging the woods and front part of the estate died down, then dissipated as though they never had been.
He had been jerked from sleep by Ororo’s bloodcurdling scream, his body tossed across the room like a rag doll as wind and rain erupted all around him. It was a display like he had never witnessed before. Still looking out the broken window at the destruction left behind by the storm’s fury Logan briefly wondered if Gambit had gotten out of the boathouse before Storm’s tornados had shredded it. He got his answer almost immediately as the Cajun dropped into the room through the busted skylight.
“Stormy! What’s de matter? If Wolverine--”
-SNIKT- Wolverine growled. Gambit ignored him, but wisely let the rest of that sentence trail off.
“Logan!” Ororo looked past Gambit and bolted from the bed, rushing towards Wolverine, throwing herself into his arms. He grunted on impact, retracting his claws, pulling her close, murmuring softly in her hair. “It’s ok, babe. It’s ok.”
Ororo stepped away from him, running her hands along his face and chest as if checking for injuries. “Are you okay?”
“Just a couple of bruises, darlin’.” He said, referring to the hits he had taken from the flying furniture. “Already healin’.”
She placed her head to his chest, her ear directly over his thundering heart. “I thought…” she couldn’t finish.
Suddenly she pulled away from him, turning towards the door. She had made it half way across the room when the door flew open and a teary eyed Jean stumbled in. Neither woman said anything for a moment, but then both hurried forward embracing each other.
“Oh my God!” Jean cried.
“You too?” Ororo asked. Jean nodded, a broken sob torn from her throat.
Gambit looked at Wolverine who lifted his shoulders, as lost in the exchange as the Cajun. Ororo and Jean spoke hurriedly, in hushed whispers, but from the snippets Logan’s sensitive hearing picked up he gathered the two of them had just shared a nightmare.
“’Ro? Jean?”
“Oh, Logan!” Jean broke away from Storm, running to him, hugging him.
“Uh, hey, Red.” Logan hugged her back, rubbing her shoulders. In the doorway Scott’s tall figure appeared.
“Does someone want to fill me in on what the hell is going on?” he demanded, arms crossed. No one answered.
Remy turned to Storm opening his arms. “I’m ‘ere if you need me, padnat.”
“Got it covered, Gumbo.” Logan snarled.
“From ‘ere it looks like you got yer hands full wit‘ Jean yet again, mon ami.”
Logan growled setting Jean aside, stalking towards Gambit. “You crawfish smellin’ piece of shit, come here!” -SNIKT-
“Logan.” Ororo stepped between him and Gambit.
“One day ‘Ro, you’re gonna have to let the boy grow up!” He went to step around her.
“Please.” The softly spoken word stopped Logan in his tracks. Son of a-- He retracted his claws.
“Go.” he growled at Gambit, who in return gave him a mock salute before leaping over the balcony railing with no more than a faint rustle from his duster.
“Thank you.”
Logan rumbled in return. “So, like Cyke said, wanna fill us in on what the hell is going on?”
“Yes, but give us a minute.” Jean stated. She walked over to her husband resting her head on his shoulder wearily. Scott cradled her close, kissing the top of her head.
“When you’re ready,” he said.
“I could use a beer.” Logan stated, pulling a pair of jeans on over his boxers.
“Sounds good.” Scott agreed.
Taking Storm’s chin in his hand Logan gave her a slow kiss, resting his forehead against hers when it was over. “Love ya.”
Ororo nodded.
When both men had left the demolished room Ororo and Jean sat beside one another on the bed. “So…”
“Yeah, so…”
“What do you think it means?” Ororo asked.
“I don’t know.” Jean replied truthfully. “ I’ve been having dreams of the Phoenix for the past few weeks, but none have ever felt that real.”
“I thought the Phoenix was gone.”
“It’s never really gone,” Jean sighed. “It’s a part of me and me of it. It’s hard to explain, but I can feel it lying dormant in my mind.” She tapped one finger against her temple.
“That did not feel dormant.” Ororo said softly.
“I know, but as soon as I woke up, I knew it had been a dream, that the Phoenix was still sleeping in my subconscious and not active.” Jean pushed her hands through her hair, resting her elbows on her knees.
“What have the other dreams been like?” Ororo asked after a short silence.
Jean was quiet for a minute more before answering, “I am flying, and I’m searching for something. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I know I’ll know it when I find it. Just when I feel like I am getting close to whatever it is that I’m looking for I am surrounded by darkness and moving shadows and then the Phoenix is screeching. Screaming like it is in pain. That’s when I wake up.”
“Hm.”
“Yeah, hm.”
After another moment of silence, “You know, I think I could use a drink as well,” Ororo said reaching for her robe, but realized it was not on the chair beside the bed. Because the chair beside the bed was smashed against the wall, she noted.
“Here.” Jean pulled the familiar garment from under the bed, shaking shards of glass from the fabric.
“Thanks.” Ororo slipped it on over her white nightdress.
Jean surveyed the room. “Looks like a tornado came through here.” Both women smiled a bit at the intended pun.

Xavier’s Office
Early Morning

“That was quite a show last night, Storm,” Charles was saying. He had summoned Wolverine, Jean, Scott and Storm to his office shortly after sunrise. He had known they were not sleeping, but instead were all seated in the kitchen engaged in deep conversation about the dream that Ororo and Jean had shared.
When the entire story was told Logan had taken a swig of his beer, then said, “Damn. Right outta my chest?” Jean had simply nodded, and ‘Ro looked like she was going to heave so he let it go. But a part of him was insanely pleased with Ororo’s reaction. He knew she hated to lose control, but the fact that she had nearly wiped out the estate all because she was upset over him, well it was damn flattering.
Now the four of them were seated around Xavier’s desk waiting to hear what Charles had to say about everything.
“I believe your mutant powers are expanding at an exponential rate.” Charles continued. “The more your other skills develop the more your mutant abilities develop. It’s as though your body is maintaining some type of balance, an equilibrium. I have some interesting readings that Hank gathered during your Danger Room exercises.” He placed a manila folder on the desk.
Ororo picked it up, opening it and reading the charts inside. “These can’t be right,” she said. “I mean the performance readings are off the scale.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Well, that explains the super powerful tornados, but what about the shared dream?” Scott asked.
“Jean is a telepath, Scott.” Xavier said, eyebrow raised.
“Are you saying I wanted Storm to see that dream?” Jean asked disbelieving. There was no way she would have wanted her best friend to feel the kind of pain the dream had caused her.
“Maybe not you,” the Professor agreed picking up on her thoughts.
“The Phoenix,” Jean whispered.
“Tell me, what color was the costume you were wearing in the dream?” Xavier asked.
Jean paused, “Green and gold.”
“Are you saying, Professor, that the dream was sent by the Phoenix as a message, as opposed to a threat?” Scott asked, understanding the significance of the gold and green versus the red and gold.
“What could it have wanted to tell Storm?” Jean questioned as well.
“It could very well have been a threat,” Xavier said shaking his head. “I’m not ruling out that possibility. Since I am unable to access the Phoenix in Jean’s mind, this is all just assumption. However, the coloring of the costume indicates that this was not an attack waged out of animosity, but perhaps one of defense.”
“Defense?” Ororo sat forward. “I would never harm Jean.”
“Perhaps not, but from what Jean has told me of her previous dreams, maybe the Phoenix and you now share a common enemy.”
“That’s a lot of perhaps and maybes, Chuck. Whaddya got that’s concrete?”
“Unfortunately not much.” Charles rolled away from the desk. “I will be heading to England with Kurt and Henry this afternoon. We are going to meet Psylocke and Warren at Excalibur’s headquarters. While I am there I plan to see if they have any information from Belasco that Ilyanna may have left behind from her time on the team. I am hopeful that over there I may find some answers for you, Storm.”
“I wish you luck,” Ororo said sincerely. She rose to her feet. “If you will all excuse me, I would like some time alone.” She tossed the Danger Room file back onto the mahogany desk.
Logan rose, but she shook her head. He sat back down, watching her intently as she walked away.
Ororo strode out the door, her strides purposeful. She made her way down the long corridor, down the stairs and out the front door of the institute. Once outside and away from the mansion Ororo stripped off her white cotton shirt, tore the elastic from her hair, and yanked off her khakis with impatient tugs. Naked she took to the air, flying high in the sky until she was directly over the lake. Looking down at the crystalline water she gave into the urge to dive into the clear depths. She broke the surface with barely a splash, diving deep, letting the cool water wash away her stress, her worries. Surfacing she rolled so that she was floating on her back, She let her mind wander over last night’s recent events. She could still hear the Phoenix saying, “Come, Windrider, let’s see if you have what it takes to be a true Sat-ne a’nekh.” How had the Phoenix known about the Daughter of the Light?
Ororo splashed in frustration. Her mother had been a hemet-netjer-lepet {High Priestess}, but had died before ever having the chance to teach Ororo anything about it.
Ororo paused, treading water. She had spoken to her mother once before, and if she was this all powerful sorceress that could open the realm to the dead, well, shouldn’t she at least try to go get some answers from someone who would have them? She couldn’t stand it if her ignorance cost Logan his life. Images of the dream flashed in her minds eye. No, she refused to let that happen!
She was not the co-leader of the X-Men for nothing. She knew how to make decisions and get the job done. Decision made Ororo took action. Concentrating, eyes going stark, Ororo summoned sub zero arctic winds, the water around her growing colder and colder, a fine sheet of ice beginning to make slow progress across the water’s surface. She could feel her body’s automatic reaction, her internal temperature rising to combat the cold. She focused, willing her body to relax and accept the freezing temperature. Her breath clouded in the air in front of her face, her teeth chattering. Just a little more, she told herself. Her arms and legs ached, pain running through her muscles as she trembled and shivered. Soon though, her body began to feel heavy, lethargic. Ororo clenched her teeth, summoning even more cold. As the ice began to thicken all around her Ororo pushed herself downward so that she was trapped below the surface as the top of the lake solidified into a giant slab of ice.
Okay, here goes…

Warmth, all around. Bright white, a sea of tranquility. Sparkling blue eyes.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Blessed Goddess, Ororo, what have you done?”
Ororo felt herself drifting languidly and was having a hard time focusing on her mother’s voice. She wanted to close her eyes and drift…No. She focused on the blue eyes in front of her.
“I need some answers, Mom. I need your help.”
N’Dare’s slender figure materialized from white light all around them, her long hair swirling about her face. Despite having seen her mother here before Ororo still felt her breath catch in her throat, tears stinging behind her eyes.
“You should not be here, daughter.” Her mother said softly.
“I had no choice. I need answers, and I think you are the only one that can help me.”
N’Dare momentarily lost her serene expression, “It is forbidden for me to interfere. You must go now, brave girl. You can not stay here, the longer you dwell in the In-between the harder it will be for you to return. Go now…”
Ororo coasted closer to her mother. “Please, Mom, I have questions and I think you have the answers. I am not leaving until I get them.”
N’Dare smiled ruefully. “You always were stubborn. You get that from your father.” After a time, and in this place it was hard to judge how long, N’Dare said, “He must be very special.”
Ororo opened her eyes. When had she closed her eyes? “Who?”
“The man you are here to protect. I see your heart, blessed child, and I feel your love for this man, this…Wolverine?” N’Dare said his name, voice slightly incredulous.
Ororo laughed. “Logan, Mom. His name is Logan. Wolverine is his code name.”
“Thank the Bright Lady. I do not wish for grandchildren named Badger or after some other such woodland critter.” N’Dare murmured causing Ororo to smile.
Her heart had jumped at her mother’s mention of grandchildren, her mind picturing herself swollen with Logan’s baby. It brought a tender ache in her chest.
“Ah, yes, you love him very much.” The light swirled, becoming brighter for a moment, causing Ororo to flinch. Another flash of bright light and Ororo winced. She was confused, it had not hurt to be here the last time she was here.
As if reading her mind, and who knew maybe she was, N’Dare said, “You were meant to be here before, daughter. It was the way it was written, but now you are forcing your way in, and you should not be. It would be best if you tried to leave now.”
Ororo refused to move, instead saying, “Not without some answers. What is the Daughter of Light?”
N’Dare sighed, but smiled at Ororo despite her frustration. So much like her father…
“In your heart you know the answer to that question.”
“I am the Daughter of Light.”
“Yes.”
“The Guardian of Earth?”
“One of them.”
“And what are the Daemonites?”
N’Dare said nothing.
“The Daemonites, Mother. What are they?” Ororo was persistent.
“They are demons.”
“Yes, I gathered they were a demonic race.”
“No, child. They are Demons. Original monsters from the depths of Hell.”
That made Ororo pause. “You do not believe in hell,” she said to N’Dare.
“There is no one right belief, child of my heart. This is a universe of infinite possibilities. There are many things that remain complicated even after death.”
“Good to know.”
“Was that sarcasm, Ororo?”
“I apologize, Mom. I am just so frustrated.”
“Do not apologize. I see you, blessed child. So reserved, so confined. You should let the true Ororo out more often. It pains me to see you hide beneath the false shell you have created about yourself.”
“I am reserved.” Ororo stated flatly.
“Ha. I know better, child. You are thunder and rain, the winds of change themselves. Goddess, Ororo, just look at how many times you’ve altered your hair.”
“I believe we are straying form the topic.” Ororo said, feeling her body growing heavy. It was hard to keep her eyes open.
“Yes.” N’Dare touched her fingers to Ororo’s eyes. “Focus, daughter. Do not wander.”
Ororo blinked. “The Daemonites?”
“The Daemonites first appeared on the earth in what is now Luxor, Egypt over four thousand years ago.”
“The Karnak Temple.” Ororo whispered.
“Yes. Built to appease the demons by the great pharaohs.“
“But where did they come from? How did they get there?“
“The demons seemingly arrived from no where, killing and raping and maiming. They wiped out entire villages in a single night. It was later discovered that a local village Shaman had summoned them forth to take revenge on some poachers that had killed a sacred white boar.”
“If this Shaman summoned them forth, why did he not just send them back?”
“The Shaman tried, but was unable to do so. He had used almost all of his power to summon the demons from the pits of Hell, and was unable to send them back. The doorway to Hell is very hard to open, near impossible. Unable to return the demons from whence they came, the Shaman sent out a call to the spirits of the earth, requesting protection from the evil he had brought forth. The spirits were not eager to comply, as revenge is not looked upon favorably. However, they could not let such evil stand on their beloved planet. So it said that the four spirits of the Earth, Geb, Isis, Aten and Auramoouth, decided to form a soldier to combat the Daemonites and remove them from the realm of Earth. This soldier was to be the Daughter of the Light. But before the spirits had completed their warrior, the demons vanished.”
“This sounds like one of the fables you read to me as a child,” Ororo said skeptically.
“Yes.” N’Dare’s gaze was serious.
Ororo gasped at the implication. “You knew.”
“Yes.” N’dare floated, waving her hand, swirling the drifting clouds absently. “I was born with the mark.” She showed Ororo the inside of her wrist, where a thin birthmark lay. It was shaped like a bolt of lightening. Ororo touched her fingertips to the faded scar on her chest, almost identical to her mother’s mark. “I knew that my child would be the Sat-ne a’nekh. I did not want that for you, Ororo. And I am sorry that I did not train you, or teach you what was to be expected. I had hoped the day would never come when you would need to be told.”
“I do not believe this.” Ororo declared.
“Still, child? After all you have seen?”
“You would be amazed at the things I have seen,” Ororo said. She yawned, so sleepy.
“Daughter, you must leave.”
“No. I still have questions.” She shook her head, clearing it. “If the Daemonites are from Hell why are they afraid of Limbo?”
“They are not.”
“In a journal written by a sorcerer named Belasco I read that the Daemonites were the scourge of all possible Universes and that they feared a sorceress that could send them to some type of death dimension. He wrote that the N‘Garai wished to find the Daughter of the Light and use her to send the Daemonites into such a place.”
“The N’Garai are pathetic little creatures with no real sense of what is going on in the universe outside their own little existence.” N’Dare’s voice was scathing. “Belasco was grasping at straws, trying to find a way to rid the N‘Garai of the demons that had made their way into their dimension, he had very little knowledge of what he faced. He made the near correct assumption that the only way to rid himself of the Daemonites was to push them out of a dimensional rift, but this was an idea he gathered from the Destiny Diaries.”
“Destiny Diaries?”
“Another quest, another time.” N’Dare said carefully.
Ororo nodded in understanding. Already her mother had told her it was forbidden for her to help, and Ororo was not going to push her for more than she was willing to give. Instead she said, “That does explain his fascination with Magik. Ilyanna could open small discs through space and time. Perhaps he thought her able to defeat the Daemonites, or at the very least remove them.”
“Ah, yes, Illyana. A powerful magic wielder indeed, but not even she would have been strong enough to defeat the Daemonites. They would have devoured her as easily as they devour everything else.”
“You make them sound unstoppable.”
“They very nearly are.”
“That is not all together comforting.” Ororo said, tone dry.
“I know, beloved. I wish I could give you words of comfort, to take away your fear, but I can not. Things were thrown off skew when you left the In-between and returned to Earth. You made a choice that day, and that has altered destiny, has changed fate.”
“Wait. How do you change fate? It is fate. Besides I do not believe in preordained destiny. My future is what I choose it to be.”
“That much is obviously true.” N’Dare smiled. “Too true. Hopefully that will not change, if nothing else, in the coming war.”
“War?”
“Blessed child, you do not believe the Daemonites are going to leave you be now that they know who you are.”
“I had hoped. Why come after me if they believe I am the Daughter of the Light, if they fear the death dimension that I can send them to?”
“They do not fear death, child. Daemonites can not die, for they are never truly alive.”
“Then why fear the Daughter of the Light?”
“They fear you,” N’Dare said emphasizing the you, wanting Ororo to accept that she was indeed the fabled Guardian of Earth. “Is because you can send them back to Hell, never to return.”
“How?”
“That I do not know. There are some things that you will have to discover on your own.”
“Great.”
“Ororo, listen to me. Your power is beyond anything that I can fathom, but it is not limitless. The battle will be long and hard, and…” N’Dare looked uncertain, almost afraid.
“What?”
“The Daemonites will use whatever it is that hurts you the most to destroy you.”
“Logan…” Ororo breathed.
N’Dare said nothing but the answer was on her face. Ororo shook her head. “No. They will not touch him! How do I stop them?”
“Ororo, brave girl, I can not answer that question. You will only find that answer inside of yourself. The only advice I can give you I have. Stop hiding from who you truly are. Do not fear it, embrace it.”
Such simple words, Ororo thought. But how could she let her walls down? There was too much at stake. For crying out loud, she’d had a nightmare and nearly demolished the institute. She couldn’t risk losing her control.
“Sat-merwet, {daughter of love} if you live in fear of yourself, how then can you be expected to face the challenges that lay before you?”
Ororo started to speak but found herself unable to do so. Her body was simply too heavy now, weighing her down. Her eyelids were so burdensome. Painful tingling was running up and down her spine.
“Ororo, go now. You do not belong here. You are not allowed to stay.” The image of her mother was fading. “Go, or you will be trapped here. Go!”
Ororo tried to nod, but the effort was too much. She struggled to stay awake. “Thank you…”
Suddenly the white light around her flared unbelievably bright, then began to fade to pink, heating her flesh.

“Ro!” Strong hands were lifting her limp body from the freezing water. Her wet hair sloshing, slapping her in the face. Her teeth were chattering so loudly she could barely hear the person talking.
“Got her?” Someone asked.
“Got her.” Rough, gravelly voice.
“Good.” Cyclops said, clicking his visor, cutting off the optic beam he had been using to melt the ice.
“Damn you, Ororo Munroe. That is the second fucking heart attack ya’ve given me in two months!”
“L-l-l-ogan, what a-ar-re you d-d-d-doing?” Her body trembled uncontrollably.
Logan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, letting his body heat seep into hers. “I was just about to ask ya the same question, ‘Ro. What the fuck do ya think yer doing?” Logan tried hard not to shake her. His jaw was clenched so tight he thought he could hear his teeth cracking.
When he had walked out of Xavier’s office ten minutes ago he had immediately headed for the lake. On the walk he had found scattered garments littered along the ground and had picked them up, smiling as he pictured ‘Ro naked, swimming in the lake. What he had seen had been far more disturbing. The entire lake was frozen solid, and had it not been for Ororo’s three longest fingers poking out of the ice he would never have known where she was. He had sprinted across the distance separating them, looking through the ice he had seen her. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, white hair a frozen web around her head. Unsheathing his claws he had begun chopping away at the ice like a madman. Jean must have sensed something was wrong because she and Cyke appeared next to him abruptly. Cyclops had let loose with a low powered optic blast, melting the ice around Ororo. Now he was holding her as she coughed, ice water splashing from her blue lips.
“What happened?” Jean asked, she was telekinetically manipulating the air around Ororo, drying her off.
“Froze the lake.” Ororo mumbled.
“I see that, but why?”
“Answers. Needed answers.” She shivered, pressing against Logan.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Scott asked, a bit unbelieving at the extremes Ororo had gone to. She was usually so level headed.
Ororo opened her eyes, black as night, and in her deep echoing voice responded, “Yes.”

In the skies above Massachusetts
Blackbird


“How ya doin’, darlin’?”
“Same as I was thirty seconds ago, love.” Ororo said, casting Logan an impish smile over her shoulder. He was seated directly behind her co-pilot’s chair and every once in a while she’d hear a faint -Snikt- as he extended and retracted his claws. He was agitated she knew, concern for her etched on his ruggedly handsome face. Xavier had called from England and released her from medical leave three days ago. This was the first mission she was going on with them since the attack.
She was lucky to be going, it had taken some serious cajoling on her part to convince Scott not to inform the professor of her stunt in the lake, and he had only agreed after she swore never to do something that reckless again. She had agreed, of course, not planning on making herself a human popsicle again any time soon.
The team was now headed for Boston where a group of mutants was having a not so friendly debate with a group of anti-mutant activists. Although saddened by the state of mutant relations Ororo was glad to be back in the field. She was never one to sit on the sidelines. Her reinstatement to active wasn’t the only thing making her happy, she reflected. She glanced back over her shoulder at Logan, who was staring out the window. She and Logan had set a date for the wedding last night, two weeks from tomorrow on May 21. She couldn’t believe it when he had told her he wanted to be wed as soon as possible, that he couldn’t wait one more day to make her his wife. They had compromised a trip to Vegas for a two week date. Looking at him now she was reconsidering that trip to Vegas. Goddess, she loved him!
Logan looked forward, catching her eye. “Are ya sure yer feeling up to this? Ya shouldn’t be pushin’ yerself-- Jesus!” Logan exclaimed as the Blackbird rolled, turning a full 360 degrees, banking right.
“Storm.” Cyclop’s said sternly, but his voice held a hint of laughter.
“Sorry, Wolverine, what was that?” she asked sweetly.
“Funny, darlin’.” Wolverine hid his grin. It was good to see her like this. On a mission Ororo was a strong leader, a good commander and an excellent fighter. Sometimes she let that weigh her down to the point of seeming cold and impersonal, but today she seemed lighter, almost playful.
Thinking of her as playful brought back memories of the previous night. She had surprised him while he was in the shower, head bent, hot water cascading over his tired shoulders, lost in thought. He had jumped when he felt her supple hands slide across his back, nails raking gently. This had caused her to laugh lightly. It was exceedingly rare that anyone was able to sneak up on him, but since he had been daydreaming about her at the time, it really wasn’t all that shocking that she had pulled it off. She was in his thoughts constantly, every minute of every day.
Ororo had turned him around, dropping to her knees, teasing him with her mouth as the steaming water poured over their bodies. He had jerked back groaning, hands tangling in her thick hair as she tortured him with her sweet mouth. He had watched her mouth move on him with eyes heavy lidded from passion. She had looked up at him beneath dark lashes, tongue darting out, licking the head of his fully engorged flesh. He had growled deep in his throat, yanking her to her feet.
Logan had slammed her against the mint green tiles of the shower wall, lifting her high, impaling her in one forceful thrust. She had cried out his name in that sexy bedroom voice of hers, driving him mad, arching against him. She had wrapped her legs around him, kissing him hungrily, teeth nipping, drawing blood. That had only made him more aggressive, grunting as he thrust in and out of her, rolling his hips, making her sob with pleasure.
“Logan, ahhh, Goddess, Logan!” she had cried, clutching his slick shoulders riding out her orgasm. He had clamped his teeth against the tender meat of her neck, groaning, grinding against her. She had sagged against him, but he had been far from through with her. Shoving aside the shower curtain he placed her in front of him, turning her so that she bent over the sink, her tender flesh swollen and pink under his palm as he ran one hand between her legs, spreading them wide.
“Yer so wet, darlin’.” he had growled in her ear, inserting two blunt fingers inside her hot sheath. She had arched her back, rubbing her sweetly curve ass against him.
“And you’re so hard,” she’d panted.
His steel eyes had gone black, he knew because he could see them in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. “Look at us, ‘Ro.” He had turned her towards the mirror, standing behind her, running his large hands up her sides, over her ribcage, cupping the generous underside of her breasts. “Yer so damn gorgeous.”
She had moaned, tilting her head back, resting the back of it against his shoulder as he toyed with her, caressing her. She had gasped his name as he entered her from behind, pushing her forwards until she buckled, on her knees on the small tan and green carpet in front of their reflections in the mirror. The sight was completely erotic. Logan had pounded into her, his eyes never leaving hers in the reflection until the end, when he threw his head back, a guttural groan rushing out of him as he spilled his seed into her, his warm liquid filling her.
Then she had said the words he never tired of hearing from her. “I love you.” she had said. “I love you.”
“Ahem, Logan.” Jean nudged him, her face flushed.
“Sorry.” He gave her a wicked grin that said just the opposite.
“Oh my, Ororo.” Jean laughed, fanning her face with her hand.
“What?” Ororo turned in her seat looking at Jean curiously.
“Nothin’, darlin’. Red’s just peeking where she don’t need ta be.” Wolverine said with a smirk.
*Peeking? Logan you were broadcasting!*
“We’re here.” Scott said, preventing any further conversation, leveling off the Blackbird. Below in the streets there were overturned vehicles, fires blazing and several fights going on.
“Here we go.” Wolverine snapped off his belt, rising to his feet. He leaned over Ororo giving her a quick hard kiss. “Ready?”
“Just try and keep up,” she teased.
The hanger door opened with a whoosh and instantly the cabin was filled with smoke from the car fires and the smell of burning rubber. Ororo pushed her arms forward, sending the offensive haze back out of the jet.
A glass bottle smashed against the plane, shards tinkering to the pavement. “No more Muties!” A voice hollered.
“Ah, the welcome wagon!” -SNIKT-
“Wolverine, you and Jean take the northern end of the square, Storm and I will handle the crowd out here.”
To which Wolverine replied, “I’ll stay with Storm.”
“Wolverine, with Jean.” Ororo said, pointing north. She knew what Scott was doing and he was absolutely correct in doing it. It was hard enough to concentrate in hostile situations, made harder when you were constantly worried for another person.
“Let’s go, Wolverine.” Jean said, taking his arm, tugging him away from the plane. He growled but complied, striding off in his low, predatory manner. Ororo enjoyed this side of him, she realized. The protective, animal side. That thought made her smile.
“Ready, Cyclops?”
“Ready, Storm.” Scott grabbed the side of the plane, nodding.
With a brief clouding of her eyes Ororo cleared the street of all the debris with strong gales of wind, heavy rain dampening the fires, almost instantly the rioters broke apart, several running into the surrounding buildings. Storm and Cyclops made their way into the center of the street, taking in the damage as they went.
“Why does this feel wrong?” Scott asked.
Ororo looked at the scenery before her. Tipped over city bus, smoldering jeep, crushed cars, several broken bottles, litter. “It looks set up,” she said slowly. “A picture perfect riot scene.”
“Exactly.” Scott confirmed, one hand going to his visor as a precaution.
“Wow, how clever! And here I thought you two were stupid!” A sultry female voice called out. Standing atop the Blackbird a long legged, blue skinned mutant stood, pointing a gun at them.
“Mystique!” Cyclops sent out an optic blast, rolling to the side, where he was tackled by a strange man in black, a long blade slicing down, narrowly missing his shoulder.
“Scott!” Ororo cried.
“Get Mystique! I got this!”
Ororo acknowledged him by launching herself into the air, straight at Mystique, an attack that the fellow mutant was not expecting. She raised her gun and fired, but Ororo simply uttered “Em Sau” and the bullet was deflected by the dark shield that appeared before her. Huh, it worked, she thought.
Mystique was clearly startled and Ororo took the opportunity to slam into her, knocking her from the Blackbird and onto the hard pavement below.
“Ugh! That’s a new one, Windrider. So much for not being able to teach an old dog new tricks, huh.” Mystique flipped backward, immediately on her feet. She volleyed a blinking ball at Ororo that exploded into a heavy net, falling over Storm’s head.
“Are you kidding me?” Ororo asked, floating up into the air.
“Not at all.” Mystique pressed a button and instantly the net closed around Storm, capturing her in a tight ball. The blue skinned seductress was striding towards her, transforming herself as she did. When she leaned down into Storm’s face it was Forge’s features she was wearing. “Consider it a gift from the Maker himself.”
“Uhn, the only gift that man ever gave me was taking you far, far away. Tell him I said thank you!” Ororo said as she summoned lightening from the sky, bringing it down right on top of herself, throwing Mystique backwards, shorting the net’s electronics, releasing her. She rolled, lashing out with her booted foot, catching Mystique in the ankle, tumbling the other woman to the ground. Ororo lunged forward, her knees landing in the center of Mystique’s chest. She could hear thunder rumbling overhead. Ororo drew back, but before she could strike she was flung from Mystique’s body.
“Uh-uh-uh! Naughty, little witch. We’ve been waiting a long time for you!”
Ororo looked up from her position flat on her back. A man in black was removing his hood, revealing a grotesque face covered in leathery skin, large fangs protruding forth. On top of his head two misshapen horns curved slightly.
“Kerrok.” Ororo grimaced, somehow recognizing the Daemonite she had never encountered before. He was a soldier, not a sorcerer as the others had been, she noted. He stood well over six feet tall, bulky and large, holding two wicked looking curved blades in his clawed hands.
“Long time no see, Princess.”
“Not long enough.” Ororo said, rising to her feet, lightening flashing in her eyes.
“Wait. Don’t you wanna hear what I have to say? We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to protect you.”
“Protect me? You tried to kill me!” Ororo snapped, thunder booming.
“Ahh, an unfortunate accident,” Kerrok gave Mystique a withering glare. “It seems that the instructions we gave were not followed. The beast responsible was properly dealt with. Your death was never our intent.”
“Hnh. I find that hard to believe, demon. Now stand aside and let me see my teammate.”
“This worthless bag of meat?” Kerrok stepped aside, revealing an unconscious Cyclops. “He was defeated before I broke a sweat.”
“Do demons sweat?”
Kerrok grunted. “You miss the point, woman. We wish a truce.”
Ororo scoffed. “You wish me dead, or at the very least to use me.”
“No, no. We seek to protect you.”
“To quote a good friend of mine, ‘the nose don’t lie, Bub’ and I smell a liar.” Ororo sent several bolts into the ground scant inches from the Daemonite soldier. The air crackled, alive with electricity. “Now step away from Cyclops!”
Kerrok opened his mouth wide, spittle spraying in the air as he shrieked. “If you do not come with me they will kill you!”
Ororo said calmly, eyes glowing, “My friend, now!”
“Easy, Princess. The N’Garai mean you harm, not us, we wish to keep you from their grasp. We forgive your ancestors past dealings with our kind, we forgive all.”
“Nothing inspires forgiveness quite like the prospect of revenge.” Ororo smiled coldly. “I know all about your pathetic little feud with the N‘Garai, Daemonite, How they wish to use me to defeat your kind. How you wish to kill me to prevent it. The reason behind your plans, or plots to achieve them hold little interest for me. I will not ask again. Step away from my friend.” Lightening balled in her hand, dancing along her fingertips.
“Vengeful whore!” The demon soldier screamed.
“That ain’t no way to talk to a lady! Especially not my lady!” From the roof of the building behind them Wolverine dropped down with uncanny stealth landing silently beside the Daemonite, six adamantium blades poised and ready. With one skillful strike he plunged them into the large demon criss-cross fashion, their sharp points protruding from the front and back of the monster‘s torso, black liquid dripping from their ends.
Jean was nearby, using her powers to lift Scott from the ground and float him to her, out of harm’s way. She sent out mental command for Mystique to sleep when she noticed the other mutant trying slip behind Storm in the commotion. The blue mutant crumpled to the ground, eyes closed, red hair concealing her face. Ororo nodded her thanks, returning her focus to Logan and Kerrok.
Logan retracted his claws, then struck again, hacking deep over and over until the Daemonite began to fall. Suddenly the air was filled with mystic chanting. It was a terrible, chilling sound, grating on the X-Men.
“The head of a warrior such as you would be a great prize to add to my collection.” Kerrok was saying, turning swiftly, long forked tongue flickering out of its mouth. He took a swipe at Wolverine with the blades in his hand, connecting with soft tissue leaving a gaping wound.
“No!” Ororo rushed forward, but was stopped by Wolverine.
“Stay put!” he barked. He and the demon were circling each other, both seasoned warriors, both wanting the kill. Kerrok slashed again, and again connected, leaving a trail of blood down Wolverines arm. Wolverine growled fiercely, flinching slightly. Another slice, another cut. Kerrok laughed, Wolverine growled.
Ororo bit her lip to keep from crying out. Why wasn’t he moving? He was normally like lightning, fast and deadly, but for some reason he seemed lethargic. His responses dulled, his reaction time slowed.
Again the Daemonite struck, his meaty fist connecting with Wolverine’s face, splitting his lips. Wolverine lashed out reflexively, his silver claws narrowly missing the demon soldier. “Is that the best you can do?” The demon taunted. “You are no warrior. You are a feeble child! Pathetic.” A swift kick to Wolverine’s side, eliciting a low groan/growl.
Ororo couldn‘t stand it, the battle reminding her so much of her fight with Sabertooth. This gave her a moment of realization. “Jean!”
“Yeah, Storm?”
“Scan the area for any peculiar activity. I do not think this hulking brute is alone.”
Jean immediately opened her mind, heedless of any danger to herself, scanning the area, and just like in New Orleans she found a blank space, a void where nothing was detectable.
*I think you’re right! Two buildings south.*
Ororo didn’t hesitate, taking to the air, shooting straight up. Almost immediately she spotted a dark cloaked figure hovering on the roof of a local department store. “Hello, gruesome,” she said, eyes fading white. A murky funnel cloud appeared directly over the chanting demon, lifting it into the air. Apparently these creatures could only focus on one person at a time in order to shut down their powers, Ororo surmised.
Once she had the shadow figure high over the pavement she sent it crashing into the ground with enough force to cave in a chunk of sidewalk. Satisfied it wouldn’t be getting back up she glanced back down at Wolverine, who was laying on his back, bloodied, his body not healing. No! Had she been too late?
Kerrok stood over Wolverine, dropping his weapons, his misshapen face rending open, revealing large concealed fangs that burst forth like that of a snake. “How do you taste, meat?” Kerrok asked, leaning towards Wolverine.
“You will never know, monstrosity!” Ororo sent a hurricane gale, knocking the Daemonite backwards. She landed directly in front of the Kerrok, legs straddling Logan‘s fallen form. “You will pay for touching him, infidel!”
“So protective, Princess. Is this your choice of mate? This weak mortal? You could do so much better.” Kerrok mocked. “He is unworthy of you. He deserves to be slaughtered, and I deserve a true warrior to face. Up to it?” he challenged.
“Li, merer-ek saat!” {Come, you lover of slaughter.} Ororo shouted, picking up Kerroks discarded blades, slashing aggressively, the tips leaving bleeding black lacerations on Kerrok’s face.
As Kerrok’s battle cry rent the air Ororo took off running, staying on foot as opposed to the air, wanting to draw him away from Logan, but leaving plenty of scent for Wolverine to follow when he roused himself.
She could hear Kerrok hot on her heels. Thinking fast she darted into one of the aged brick buildings, a radio station, ignoring the screams of the people inside, taking the stairs in the lobby two at a time.
Get to the roof get to the roof get to the roof! A lightening strike using the tower as a conduit might be strong enough to kill the demon. Or at least she hoped it would. Storm was overcome by a murderous rage and quite willing to break her vow not to kill. It was Wolverine that this creature had touched, had harmed. Of all the people it could have been, it had been the one she loved more than anything and was willing to kill for. Foolish demon.
Once on the roof, Ororo made her way to the tall metal tower. She threw Kerrok’s blades across the roof, climbing the tower rung by rung. “Come to me, you big dumb animal,” she muttered.
“Already here.”
Storm gasped as Kerrok appeared in the air in front of her, dropping from the sky, wrapping his arm around her torso forcing her from the tower to the rooftop. She landed with a dull thud, the breath driven from her chest.
“Weak.” Kerrok snarled, folding his leathery wings against his sides. He clamped one scaly hand over the bottom half of her face, lifting her from the ground, her feet dangling. “You are what the Elder Gods fear?”
Ororo’s brow furrowed. Who in the name of the Bright Lady were the Elder Gods? If she had one more twist thrown her way…Uuuggh! Her eyes flashed.
“Put ‘er down, mon frere.” A silky smooth voice said from behind the struggling pair.
“Who are you?” Kerrok demanded angrily.
“The name is GAMBIT! REMEMBER IT!” A flurry of charged cards rained down, exploding in careful sequence, driving Kerrok forward to avoid the blasts; straight into the waiting fist of one pissed off southern beauty.
Ororo was flung free as the Daemonite warrior was knocked backwards. She rolled across the rooftop, coming to a stop at Gambit’s feet.
Kerrok hissed, but when the unmistakable sound of Wolverine’s growls could be heard coming from the stairwell he decided to flee. A fair fight with Wolverine was one he doubted he could win. Spreading his large, leathery wings, he spat, “This is not over, Sat-ne-a’nekh!”
Wolverine burst through the red exit door, claws extended, teeth bared, body still bloody, but healing. Scott and Jean close behind him, Scott looking well recovered. It was good to have a wife that was a doctor.
Wolverine lunged for Kerrok immediately, but the Daemonite took to the air, narrowly escaping six nine inch blades, causing Wolverine to let out a vulgar string of curses.
Gambit reached down, helping Storm to her feet. “Evnin’, padnat. Miss me?”
“Gambit, what are you doing here?”
“Shopping.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s the truth,” Rogue said, floating beside her. “ We came up tah Boston fer some shopping. A weekend away. Ya know, tah relax.”
“Sounds like fun. Were you shopping for anything in particular?” Ororo asked nonchalantly, brushing the dirt from her knees.
“Sounds like fun?” Wolverine snarled. He turned on Ororo, teeth still bared. “You’re just gonna strike up idle conversation after one of those fuckin’ creepy bastards tried to trap you again? Like everything is just hunky-fuckin’-dory?”
Storm raised one winter eyebrow. “What would you have me do, Logan? Cry pitifully at your feet, begging the Bright Lady to save me? Sorry, Bub, ain’t my style.” She mimicked his tone almost perfectly, crossing her arms over her chest, her breasts resting invitingly on her arms.
Christ, he thinking about her breasts in the middle of a damn argument. He took her face in his bloodstained hands, saying in lethal softness, “These fuckers want you dead, ‘Ro, and you deciding to lead one of them on a merry little chase just ain’t sitting well with me. I wonder if maybe you didn’t freeze some important brain cells back at the lake.”
“Logan, you worry too much. Besides, I knew you would be along to rescue me.” She leaned forward, brushing her soft lips against his, draining away his anger with her certain assurance that he would have come for her.
“I can’t lose ya, ‘Ro.” He pulled her into his arms, giving her a real kiss, tongues melding, arms wrapping around each other. A cool updraft blew around them, a sign of Ororo’s pleasant surprise at his very public gesture. “I love ya too damn much.”
Ororo smiled, but in her mind she worried, her thoughts very nearly the exact same thing. She would not lose Logan to these foul demons. She would rend this world apart before she let that happen. For a brief moment Ororo’s eyes filled inky black, but when she blinked they were bright blue once again. However, the brief change did not go unnoticed and Jean stared at her friend apprehensively. She was once again assailed by feelings of trepidation.
“Well, since we are here, there is something I would like to shop for.” Ororo said, fetching Jean from her thoughts.
“What’s that?” Scott asked coming up behind Jean, resting his arm across her shoulders.
“My wedding dress!” Ororo’s smile was the brightest any had ever seen her wear before, her love for Logan brimming in her eyes, exuding from her very soul for all to see.

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York



The smell of the earth always relaxed her, Ororo thought as she put her spade down, taking the soil in her hands, working it with familiar skill. She was taking some time to relax, the tension in her body seeping out as she cultivated.
After their return from Boston yesterday she and Jean had researched everything they could find on the Elder Gods and the name Kerrok. Surprisingly there had been a substantial amount of information, at least about the Elder Gods. Supposedly these Elder Gods resided on a plane of altered reality, whatever that meant, inaccessible to anyone not of equal power. These beings were said to be the watchers of life, the forces that guide, but do not interfere. On each plane of existence these beings had established sects to guide and guard the dimensions. On every planet of life they selected a group of disciples to maintain their order, keep the balance of good and evil.
On Earth this order was established in the place where all life on the planet had begun, in Africa. Their disciples were the High Priestesses, given the gift of sight and the ability to commune with nature. The Elder Gods also sent a force to protect the universe of each dimension, a spark from the original flame of life, the Phoenix.
Jean had been surprised. She had not known this about the Phoenix force that dwelled within her. She had been strangely comforted by the information.. The knowledge that the awesome power buried within in her was meant to protect and not destroy was a liberation for her tormented soul. She had known on some level that when the Phoenix had merged with her that it was a force of good, but having never experienced emotions before the Phoenix had difficulty dealing with them. Hunger was starvation, anger felt like all consuming rage, and lust, good God the lust had been nearly unbearable. In the end the Phoenix had raged out of control, the cost of which still kept Jean up at night. But knowing that its true purpose was good, well, it eased the pain a little.
Ororo had sensed the contentment this knowledge had given her friend, and for that she was immeasurably glad. Jean was the most loving person she knew and Ororo knew that Jean tortured herself with guilt, thinking she harbored an evil inside herself. Ororo had reached over the book they were reading and squeezed Jean’s hand in her own. Jean had looked up, tears in her eyes, knowing that Ororo had understood.
Once they had gathered as much information they could find, they had sat down with their fellow X-Men: Cyclops, Wolverine, Gambit, Rogue, Iceman, Beast, Colossus and Shadowcat. It was a brainstorming meeting of the minds, all of them trying to determine the significance of recent the events, and what they could all mean. It was Kitty who began to put the pieces together first.
“Well, if I was a race of power hungry demons from hell, I sure wouldn’t be bothering with us peons on Earth. I’d be going for the big guns.” She pointed at the words Elder Gods scrawled in black sharpie across the board.
“The kid has a point,” Wolverine said.
“So, why come after Storm?” Iceman asked.
“Tactics.” Cyclops said. “Let’s throw out the premise that the Daemonites are trying to kill Storm. Maybe they don’t want her dead, maybe they just want her too weak to fight back.”
“No, Ah’m pretty sure they want her dead, “ said Rogue. “It’s hard tah explain, but after I absorbed that shadow snake, Ah could feel their intentions. Not their thoughts, but close. I don’t think they’re gonna kill ya,” she looked at Storm. “But whatever it is they want yah tah do will.”
“Let’s assume then that it’s not the N’Garai that are trying to capture Storm. I mean, have we even seen one? No. Smart tactics are to send your enemies scrambling, keep them guessing, wondering what is really going on. Military strategists do it all the time. Send out false codes, make believe leads, hell Wolverine was sent on more than one bogus mission in his day to keep him from ever finding out the truth about himself.” Scott supposed.
Wolverine grunted, but remained silent, listening.
“So, you’re suggesting they’ve fed us false information?” Jean asked. “But we’ve had no real direct contact with them, aside from battle. The information we gathered we gathered from the journal left by Ilyanna.”
“Yes, but whose to say how accurate that is. Belasco was destroyed by Ilyanna, perhaps the N’Garai defense against the Daemonites fell with him. They may already have destroyed the N’Garai.” Scott countered.
“No loss there,” said Kitty bitterly. She had been very close to Ilyanna and had had to face the N’Garai demons several times.
“It’s obvious these Daemonite creatures are not stupid. They plan, they research and they act.”
“Yeah, but not as a team,” Jean said. “We’ve only had to face them one at a time.”
“Thank God.” Rogue said remembering the terrible creature they faced in San Francisco as well as the bulky brute they faced on the rooftop.
“Yes, but eventually they are going to figure out that one at a time is not cutting it, and they will come at us hard.” Ororo said.
“What makes you think that?” Colossus asked.
“Because it is what I would do.” she answered point-blank. “You want to win against a formidable enemy in battle then you hit hard and you keep hitting. Up until now I do not believe they viewed us as much of a threat. But yesterday we chased away one of their soldiers. Now they know the X-men are not simply going to roll over.”
“Got that right.” Wolverine said fiercely.
“All right,” said Beast, “let us run with this theory for a moment. For what purpose do they need Ororo?”
“Let’s map it out.“ Cyclops said, all eyes turning to him as he scrawled on the white board with black marker. He wrote: Daemonites, N’Garai, Elder Gods and Storm. “What do we know for certain about any of these things?” he asked.
“They’re icky.” Kitty said.
“True.” Cyclops wrote ‘icky’ under Daemonites and N’Garai. This made several members of the team smile. “What else?”
“The Daemonites have been around for over four thousand years.” Ororo said.

“Ok. Really old.” Scott scrawled. “What else?”
“They all belong to different dimensions,” Beast stated.
“Good.” Scott drew four circles around each word.
Kitty rose from her seat, lower lip caught between her front teeth, a clear sign that she was deep in thought. She reached out, phasing that marker from Scott’s hand. She drew three circles, labeling them and layering them. Earth, N’Garai, Elder God World. “Imagine these circles are in a house,” she said. “One is the bathroom, a bedroom, kitchen, et cetera. Now imagine that you are here,” she pointed to the first circle, labeled Earth. “But you want to be here,” she pointed to the last circle in the layer, labeled Elder God World.”
“Then you would have to go through the other rooms!” Bobby said, excited that he got the reference.
“Exactly.” Kitty smiled at him.
“And to do that you’d need a doorway.” Jean said, looking at Storm.
“But what if one of the doors was particularly hard to open,” continued Kitty.
The group sat in silence for a moment. “Well, at least now we know what they want to use Storm for,” Beast said.
“Yeah, a battering ram.” said Wolverine with a dark scowl.

“’Ro, you in here?” Logan called, knowing full well she was. He could smell her sweet fragrance lingering in the humid air.
“Down here.” Ororo was on her knees, her hands kneading damp soil. She smiled up at him from her position on the ground, wiping the back of one hand across her forehead, leaving a small smear of mud.
“Hey, darlin’.” He knelt beside her, rubbing his thumb over the streak, wiping it away. “When’d ya get back?”
“A short while ago. You were in the Danger Room, so I decided to come out here.” She said indicating her small greenhouse.
“How was the trip?” Logan asked as he made himself more comfortable, watching her hands working the soil. The motions were very soothing.
“Good.” She beamed. She and Jean had gone to Manhattan to look for a dress, having found none in Boston that Ororo had liked. “I found the perfect dress.”
“I don’t know why yer bothering. I’m just gonna tear it offa ya after the ceremony.” He gave her a wicked grin and a wink.
Ororo’s mouth quirked.
After that last meeting the two of them had mutually decided to give the conversations of demons and Elder Gods a rest and focus on their upcoming wedding. There would always be some wacko trying to hunt them down, be it demons from hell or top secret military officials, but their wedding…well, that was once in a lifetime!
“True as that may be, I want to look beautiful for you.” She said sincerely.
“Yer always beautiful,” he said just as sincerely. He reached out, pulling the elastic from her braid, sifting his fingers through her hair. Ororo’s eyes drifted shut and she leaned into the fingers massaging her scalp.
“Mmm…” she sighed. “You have the best hands.”
Logan’s eyes grew dark. Although he knew she hadn’t intended it, her hushed voice had aroused him instantly. There was something about her smoky velvet timbre that always got to him. He slowly tilted her head towards his, her blue eyes opening slowly, gazing at him in sapphire splendor, telling him without words that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“’Ro.” He breathed her name as if it were the holiest of words, his firm lips pressing against her soft pliant ones. His heart hitched as her hands caressed the sides of his face softly. Her touch always did that to him, making him ache with tenderness. How he had lived without her he had no idea. He hadn’t, he acknowledged, not really. He had never felt alive or whole until ‘Ro.
“Logan.” She murmured in to his mouth, her tongue teasing his sculpted lips. He pressed her back against the moist earth, tugging her flannel shirt from her pants. Wait, flannel? He paused, taking in her attire. She was wearing one of his washed out shirts and to him the damn thing had never looked so good. Seeing his questioning look Ororo smiled, saying, “I missed you today.”
“Same here.” He ran his rough hands under his shirt, caressing her soft skin. His thumbs grazed her nipples, causing her to sigh. She tangled her slender fingers in his hair, smiling up at him with such open love that he had to close his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he said huskily burying his face in the curve of her neck, breathing in her earthy, fresh scent.
“Mmm. That’s probably true,” she murmured teasingly.
“Witch,” he grumbled into her mouth, lips claiming hers for a long kiss. A few hushed sighs and moans later they lay in each other’s arms naked, legs tangled, hands stroking tenderly, their movements unhurried.
He placed one knee between her thighs, parting her legs, sliding between them, cradled by her hips like he was made to be there. He entered her slowly, a hiss of pleasure escaping between clenched teeth. He framed her face with his hands, staring into her eyes as he moved within her. She never looked away, keeping her focus on him, their love making exquisitely slow, and unbearably intense. They were both completely open now, vulnerable and unguarded.
Logan placed his forehead against hers, sweat beading on both of their brows, their noses touching, eyes still locked. His mouth brushed hers fleetingly with each up thrust.
Ororo said his name softly, over and over. She could feel the tension in him, in the iron bands of his arms, in the way he moved. She was touched by the extraordinary will power he was exerting over his animal side to give her this. This amazingly gentle loving.
Logan braced himself on one elbow, leaning over her, his eyes dark and serious.
“What is it?” Ororo asked gently.
“I meritwet ek, ib-i.” {I will love you forever, my heart.} Logan said gruffly.
Ororo’s eyes widened. “Oh, Logan!” She pulled him down to her, kissing him lovingly, tears spilling from her eyes. He had learned to tell her he loved her in her native language. Ororo was extraordinarily moved by the gesture, her quiet sobs evidence of that.
“Shh, easy , darlin’. Don’t cry, ‘Ro. Please don’t cry.” He soothed her, whispering words of love against her ear, pressing his whiskered cheek to her face as he still slowly glided in and out of her.
“I love you,” she sobbed. “I love you so much, Logan.” Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her body trembling with the depth of her feelings for him. Logan held her tight, listening to her mantra of I love you’s, stroking her hair. He pressed himself more fully against her, rotating his hips. She moaned, eyes fluttering.
“Uhn-uh, darlin’. Stay with me.” His heated gaze captured hers. He moved again, and she bit her lip, but didn’t look away or close her eyes.
“I am with you,” she whispered. “Always.” She lifted her pelvis and Logan had to fight the urge to close his eyes against the raw pleasure. “Always.” she repeated.
Logan took her hands, locking their fingers together over her head, stretching her. His mouth possessed hers in a lingering kiss, licking and nipping, but still their eyes remained locked on each other. Ororo arched under him, pressure building.
“Look at me, baby. I wanna see yer eyes when ya come fer me.” He whispered raggedly.
Ororo moaned, his heated words pushing her towards fulfillment. “Logan…”
“I’m here, baby.” He rolled his hips, pressing forward at the same time. “Can ya feel it, ‘Ro. Can ya feel all the ways I love ya,” Logan surged forward, keeping her hands locked over her head even as she struggled to reach for him.
“Logan.” She whimpered.
“God, ‘Ro,” he groaned.
He stared into her deep blue depths, loving the way the color of her eyes swirled with each thrust, loving the way she met his impassioned gaze head on, not shrinking from it, reveling in it, in him.
“Yer mine, ain’t ya, darlin’.” He said, withdrawing almost completely from her tight channel.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I am yours.”
He plunged home.
“Logaaaan…” Ororo came apart in his arms, her body arching off the soil, her mouth open as a keening cry broke from her very soul, escaping into the night air. But her eyes didn’t close, her gaze never wavered as she writhed beneath him, moaning his name, whimpering.
“Exquisite,” Logan’s graveled voice sounded in her ear.
Once she had returned to earth Ororo lifted herself against him, causing his breath to hitch. “Your turn,” she whispered.
Logan pulled away, then surged forward. Ororo locked her legs behind his back. “Ahhh, ‘Ro…’
“Uhn-uh, darlin’,” she rasped, “stay with me.”
“’Ro. ’Ro. ’Ro.” He grunted her name on each thrust, his pace quickening. Ororo yanked her hands free, cradling his face between them, lifting her head, pressing her mouth to his, blue eyes capturing his black ones as surely as she captured his heart.
“Come for me,” she murmured against his lips, nails digging into the flesh of his cheeks.
“Ahh, fuck, ‘Ro.” He pounded into her, face twisted in a snarl of pleasure. Ororo smiled, welcoming the Wolverine home. Logan needed to understand that she accepted him, all of him, and that she loved everything about him, including the beast within.
Logan came, pushing himself inside of Ororo to the hilt, clutching her close, his howl of pleasure hoarse and glorious to her ears. She had stared into his eyes the entire time, lost in his rapture as much as he was. When his body relaxed, the corded tendons of his neck no longer in stark relief she buried her face against his slick skin.
“I am yours.” She whispered into his ear.
“And I am yours,” he whispered back, voice cracking.
“Always.” They murmured in unison.

Xavier Institute
Early Evening

Wolverine’s fierce snarl echoed off the Danger Room walls, his claws slicing down his would-be assailant in seconds. It was the fifth run of this exercise and he was getting bored.
“Ok, Wolverine. How about we run that exercise again, but this time no claws.”
Wolverine glanced up at the control turret, giving Cyclops a mock salute. It had been Scooter’s idea to run a new stream of training programs for the fall semester.
After a few more rounds of “Wolverine kicks the Danger Room’s Ass”, Scott decided to call it a day. “That should be enough to get us started,” he said. The lights flickered back on and he nodded down to Wolverine. “Thanks for the help.”
“Uh, hey, Slim. Could I get a word.” Wolverine asked, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.
“Sure. Be right down.” Cyclops snapped off the mic, jotting a few notes on his yellow pad before heading to the main floor of the training facility. When the doors hissed open he asked, “What can I do for you?”
“Ok, here’s the thing.” Wolverine began pacing, his stance slightly aggressive in his agitation. “I ain’t never been one fer makin’ friends. Fact is I don’t like too many people.”
“You don’t say.” Came Scott’s dry reply.
Wolverine glowered at him. “Anyway,” he enunciated. “I may not like you, but I respect you. What you do for the team. You’re a stand up guy.”
Cyclops looked flabbergasted. “What?”
“I ain’t repeating that. Fact is I’ll deny it if ya ever tell anyone I said it. The point I’m trying to get to here is that I’d like ya t’ stand up with me tomorrow.” There he’d said it.
Cyclops blinked behind his ruby visor. “You want me to be your best man?” He was incredulous.
Wolverine snarled a bit. “Yeah.”
Scott looked like he didn’t know what to say. Wolverine stopped pacing, giving the X-man a solid stare. “I didn’t understand before,” he said to Scott. “What it was like to love someone the way ya love Jeannie. But I get it now. And I’m…well, hell. I’m sorry fer any pain I caused ya.”
“Stop. You’re gonna make me cry.” Scott muttered, but he smiled. “If you want me to be your best man, then you’ve got it.” Cyclops was surprised when Wolverine actually looked relieved.
“Good. Now let’s go get a beer.”

The Greenhouse

Ororo placed the small African Violet bulb she had been holding into the shallow hole she had dug in the dark soil, patting it down, covering it up and giving it a brief sprinkle from the palm of her hand. She wiped the dirt from her hands on the faded yellow towel she carried in the back pocket of her faded jeans, rising to her feet. She’d been spending a lot of time in her greenhouse the past week or so, relaxing and unwinding. Being around her plants was always soothing. She craned her neck, loosening the crick that had formed there. Ororo needed this calming presence, she was a bundle of nervous energy, thinking of tomorrow evening’s event. Oh, blessed Goddess, it was really happening!
Just thinking about it made her heart hammer in her chest. She wasn’t nervous so much as anxious. They were meant to be, she knew. She’d loved Logan for so long she couldn’t remember ever not loving him. He was raw and powerful and dark and dangerous and loving and generous and surprisingly tender. Unconsciously her hand crept to her heart, her thoughts turning to the previous night. They had made love down by the lake, on the very spot they has shared their first real kiss. A slow sensual smile lit her face. The things that man did to her…
“Stormy? You in dere?”
“On my way out, Gambit.” Ororo snapped out of her daydream. She stepped through the plastic flap guarding the greenhouse. “Hello.”
“Evn’in, padnat.”
“Remy. What mischief are you up to this evening?”
“Was t’inkin’ of takin’ da Wolverine out fer a night on da town. Thought I’d check wit’ you first.” Gambit said, lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips.
Ororo thought for a moment. A night out would be good for Logan, as well as helping to rebuild the fragile friendship between him and Gambit. “I think that is a wonderful idea. You should see if Peter and Scott want to go.”
Gambit grinned. “Already done, chere. Alex is meeting us at Harry’s wit’ Iceman. Nightcrawler and Beast should be arriving home any minute, called dem dis morning’.”
“Charles?”
Gambit laughed “Non, de Professor not be back ‘til morning, chere.”
“Hmm. Looks like you have everything all planned. You were going to go with or without my permission,” she teased.
Gambit winked. “Have no fear. I know who gonna wear da pants in yer relationship, padnat.”
“Go on.” Storm shooed him away, swatting him with her rolled up towel. “Try and behave.”
“I make no promises,” he called over his shoulder as he sprinted quick as a cat towards the mansion, Ororo’s warm laughter following him.

Two Hours Later

“Are ya sure, darlin’?” Logan asked, shrugging on his well worn leather jacket, breathing deeply, catching Ororo’s left over scent from their early morning motorcycle ride. “I don’t have ta go out. I’d be just fine staying here with you.”
“No, go.” Ororo encouraged. “This is your last night as a free man, Logan. You should enjoy it.” Her smile was teasing and loving at the same time. Logan couldn’t get over how lucky he was. She was his. Only his. And tomorrow the whole world would know it. He grinned at that.
“Stay out of trouble.” Jean warned, coming down the stairs with Scott, their arms linked. They were trailed by Rogue and Kitty.
Apparently Ororo and Logan’s upcoming nuptials had rekindled whatever flame had waned in Jean and Scott’s marriage, as Scott and Jean seemed inseparable, and far more affectionate than they had been in recent months.
“As I said t’ Stormy. We’ll try, but no promises.” Gambit gave Ororo a wink, and she rolled her eyes at his repeated use of that horrid nickname.
“What are you girls gonna do?” Logan asked as they walked to the driveway.
One corner of Ororo’s mouth turned up. “Oh, we shall think of something.”
“Should I be worried?” Logan grumbled teasingly.
“Absolutely.” Ororo returned mock serious.
“Witch.” Logan kissed her tenderly, running his thumb across her chin.
“You boys have fun!” Jean called.
Logan was sliding into the driver’s seat of one of the black Hummers when he heard Ororo softly say, “I love you.” He turned to respond but she was not there, in fact the girls were all heading back into the mansion, Jean waving. Huh.

Harry’s

“I’d like to make a toast.” Bobby said, voice slightly slurred from the previous five drinks he’d had. “To Storm! Marrying Wolverine and proving she is the bravest woman in the world!”
“Hear-Hear.” Followed by a round of raucous laughter. They’d been at Harry’s for a little over two hours, drinking and talking, overall having a good time, Wolverine thought a little surprised by that fact.
“Are you nervous, mein freund?” Kurt Wagner asked, talking a sip of his water, an avid non-drinker. He had once told them: friends don’t let friends ‘bamf’ drunk.
“Nah. What’s ‘e got ta be nervous about, henh? He’s only marrying one of de most powerful, beautiful and intelligent mutants on da planet, who, if ’e ever fucks up, will no doubt char ’im to a blackened crisp. No worries, eh?”
“Thanks, Gumbo.” Wolverine growled, but there was a hint of humor in it.
Gambit shrugged, taking a drink of his beer. He grimaced. “Bobby, can ya do something about dis piss warm brew?” He held the bottle out to the younger man.
“Sure.” Bobby grabbed a hold, turning the entire bottle into a chunk of ice. “Oops.”
“Okay, somebody cut him off.” Scott said, laughing.
“Nonono. I’m fine.” Bobby said, tilting a little towards Alex. “Hey, how’s Lorna?” This earned him a poke in the forehead from Alex Summers, Scott’s younger brother, sending Bobby tilting in the other direction.
“Rookie.” Wolverine said, slamming back another shot. How many was that? He’d lost count, not that it mattered, his healing factor kept him from feeling the effects of too much alcohol.
“I wonder what our superlative women are up to?” Beast said, pouring warm cheddar on to his nachos.
“They’re probably watching some sappy, romantic, chick flick.” Said Scott.

Xavier institute

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” The girls chanted as Ororo downed the bottle of champagne. She laughed, sending bubbles up her nose.
“Whoo!” They cheered as she thumped the bottle onto the table, wiping her hand across the back of her mouth.
“Okay, your turn Jean. Truth or dare.” Kitty said, holding a deck of cards from her board game of the same name. She took a drink of her daiquiri, waiting for Jean to reply.
“Uh, truth.”
“Coward.” Ororo smiled at her best friend, her maid of honor.
“Ok. Here’s a good one. If you were not married to Scott, who would you want sleep with?”

Jean froze. She stared at Kitty for a moment, before clearing her throat. “I, uh, would only ever want to be with Scott.” She said lamely.
“Liar.” Betsy said, sipping her margarita. She and Warren had returned with Hank and Kurt for tomorrow’s ceremony.
Jean glanced at Storm, who had one eyebrow raised, her lips quirked in a knowing smile. “Oh, all right. Wolverine. Happy now?”
Instead of being upset Ororo laughed. “I can not fault your choice,” she said teasingly. “He is extraordinarily good in bed.”
This got some attention. “Do tell,” Rogue said, leaning forward. She was always curious about the physical side of relationships.
“Yes, spill.” Said Betsy over the rim of her glass.
“Ewww.” Kitty poked out her tongue. Then she remembered seeing Logan meditating in the woods once, naked and relaxed. Blushing she said, “Well, maybe just a little information.”
Ororo groaned, laughing at their eager expressions. “No, I do not think so.”
“Aww, come on. This is need tah know information.”
Ororo shook her head, still laughing.
“Well, if the thunderstorms and hail and snow and flash floods are any indication…” Jean trailed off, grinning mischievously.
“You are terrible.” Ororo tossed an ice cube at her friend. “I do not see you volunteering any information on Scott’s bedroom performance.”
“No one asked me to.”
“Ok. How’s Scott in the sack?” Kitty asked.
Jean looked at her. “How’s Peter?”
Kitty blushed. “We haven’t gotten there yet. He gets all worked up and then clang!” She made an expressive gesture with her hands. “He’s all silver and steel.”
Ororo blinked, then laughed so hard she got a cramp in her side.
“Hey, that’s not funny!” Kitty giggled swatting her in the arm.
“Ok, now spill,” Betsy said again when the giggles had subsided.

Harry’s

“Yeah, spill it man.” Alex said, handing their waitress his empty bottle, grabbing a fresh one from her tray. “How’d you propose? Was it all romantic with candles, or was it spur of the moment?”
Wolverine shook his head. “I just asked her. She said yes.”
“Why do I think there’s more to it than that?”
“You should see the ring.” Scott added.
“Nice?”
“Nice. Just be hopeful Lorna never sees it. Thankfully I had bought Jean’s years ago, so no worries about trying to compete with that rock.”
“Aww, is Wolverine a romantic?” Bobby teased pinching Logan’s cheek.
-SNIKT- Under the table Logan pressed the tips of his claws into the other man’s soft stomach. “Your point?”
“N-no point.” Bobby slid closer to Scott.
“I t’ink da Wolverine be a little sensitive when it come to Stormy, non?” Gambit swirled his beer in the bottle.
Wolverine grunted, but said nothing. Suddenly he raised his head as a group of men sauntered in through the door. They were all fairly large, burly and looking for a fight. He could smell it oozing off of them. He grinned.
“Uh-oh. Wolverine’s smiling.” Beast said, knowing that smile was a clear indicator of trouble to follow.
No sooner has the words left his mouth than a large shadow fell over the table.
“Hey, pretty boy, wanna dance.” The comment was directed at Gambit.
“Sorry, homme, your not Gambit’s type.” Remy replied, lazily swirling his beer again.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” The large man asked angrily.
“Should I?”
“We played poker last week.” The man grumbled. His three friends nodded behind him, their faces all sporting beefy scowls.
“Should know not t’ play wit’ yer betters,” Gambit said idly.
“Why you dirty-- You cost me three thousand dollars!” One large fist slammed into the center of the table, the large man leaning over grabbing Gambit’s shirt.
“Now it’s a party,” Wolverine said with a satisfied snarl, rising to his feet.

Xavier Institute

Something had awakened her. Ororo turned, looking with bleary eyes at the clock on her nightstand: 1:30 am. She smiled. It was her wedding day! She and the others had turned in only about a half an hour ago, all still giggling helplessly, but deciding to rest before the big day. She could still see there shocked faces as she described some of the things Logan had done to her. She blushed profusely, wondering what had made her share such intimate details. She laughed softly into her pillow.
A movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned, saying softly, “Logan? Is that you?”
A dark shape moved forward and Logan’s fierce profile came into view, illuminated by the soft illumination provided from moonbeams filtering in from the sky light.
“Hello there.” Ororo smiled warmly. “I thought you were going to sleep in your room tonight.” Logan had suggested it, surprising her with the tradition of not seeing the bride before the ceremony.
He said nothing, stalking towards her slowly. A sensation of fear ran through her body. There was something amiss, she thought, her head fuzzy from too much wine, she was never afraid of Logan, not even hen he was full on Wolverine. She levered herself up on her arms, suddenly very conscious of her nudity as the dark gaze flicked over her.
“Wolverine?” she repeated.
Still no response, but she sensed a growing tension in the air.
She sat up, rubbing her hand over her eyes, trying desperately to clear her head. “Answer me, Wolverine.” she demanded.
“Sat-ne a’nekh.” Came his hissed reply.
Ororo bolted from the bed, scrambling for her robe. All along the walls the shadows moved, hissing. From one of the other bedrooms a terrible scream rent the night air.

Disclaimer: Not mine, Marvel’s.


Storm tried to focus, her head reeling from the amount of alcohol she had consumed. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she told herself. She wrapped her robe around her body, knotting the belt while keeping an eye on the Wolverine figure moving towards her. She flung her bedside lamp at his head, wincing as it struck, breaking but not deterring him from coming towards her. She knew without doubt that this thing was not Logan. Whatever it was simply looked like him.
Another scream tore through the night, and the shadows on the wall hissed with pleasure. Goddess! They had infested the mansion!
Storm lunged for the door but was struck from behind, hands wrapping around her waist, driving her to the floor. She grunted with the solid impact against the floorboards. She tasted blood and knew her mouth was split open, but she also knew she had no time to dwell on such a superficial injury. She tried to roll away, but the mock-Wolverine held her down, one of its severely cold hands sliding under her robe, along her thigh causing her to cry out in rage and fear.
“Sat-ne a’nekh.” It repeated, its tainted breath making her gag. She managed to roll so that she was now facing the creature, her knee raising, driving into where there should have been tender organs, only to hit nothing so vital.
There was the sound of bones crunching and Ororo watched in morbid fascination as the shadowed figure bulged and cracked, its features shifting into those of a reptilian humanoid, its forked tongue flicking out of its fanged mouth. “You will not be the end of usss, mortal witch. We will use you to bring usss our triumph!” Inky black tentacles exploded from its chest.

Harry’s

The group of male X-men were standing outside the bar, winding down from their brief skirmish with the four burly men that thought to teach Gambit a lesson when Logan’s head shot up. He sniffed the air, but caught nothing unusual.
“What is it?” Gambit asked catching the movement.
“Don’t know. Something just don’t feel right.”
“Paranoid much?” Bobby laughed drunkenly.
Before Wolverine could respond Scott dropped to his knees, hands on his head screaming, “Jean!!” He grabbed Wolverine’s arm, panting, “They’re at the mansion.”
Logan didn’t need to ask what Scott meant, he knew. “What the fuck are we waiting for!” He demanded racing for their Hummer.

Xavier Institute

The tentacles were squeezing her, one slithering its way around her neck. The disjointed figure straddling her was smiling, its movement jolty, the flesh of its face peeled back, revealing long fangs, dripping saliva. Or at least she hoped it was saliva.
Ororo tried to summon wind from the open windows to blow the creature off of her. Nothing happened.
“Foolish, witch, do you not remember how easy it is for me to block your pathetic mutant powers. I am Adramalech, an ancient! One of the Ageless! You can not fight me!”
Ororo stiffened. She knew that voice, it was the dark figure that had lead her and Gambit into the ambush set up by Sabertooth and Mystique. On a subconscious level she knew that this was the demon responsible for everything, and was probably the most powerful Daemonite sorcerer she would face.
“I have learned a trick or two,” Ororo grunted, she focused on an image in her mind then shouted, “Khet!” {Fire!} Instantly flames shot up over the monster holding her down, he fell away screeching. Just as she thought, they could block her mutant powers, but not her sorceress ones.
Rising Ororo said, “My pathetic powers just turned your face into charcoal.”
“Bitch.” Once again Adramalech stood, tentacles flying from his fingertips. Storm struggled against the unyielding force of the dark feelers wrapping around her. Their oily scales cold and clammy around her throat, smaller feelers branching off imbedding in her skin, liquefying and spreading throughout her bloodstream. Her mouth opened in a silent scream of agony, the feeling of these things writhing under her skin was excruciating. With sudden terrifying realization Ororo knew that the X-men had been right and wrong all a the same time.
The Daemonites wanted her to open the portal, yes, but they didn‘t want her to do it on her own, they wanted to posses her. They wanted to control her. She fell to her knees, struggling against the feeling that her body was being eating alive from the inside out. Dimly she was aware of her bedroom door bursting open and Betsy Braddock leaping forward, driving her psi-blade into Ororo’s skull.
The Daemonite recoiled, pulling his feelers from Ororo’s body. “Sorry about that, Storm,” Betsy said pulling her to her feet.
“Not a problem.” Storm responded. She glared across the room, eyes glowing white. Betsy’s blade effectively severed any control the Daemonite had over her powers. “I suggest you back up,” she said to Betsy. The air crackled with electricity.
“They’re everywhere!” Kitty was screaming, phasing through the floor. Betsy grabbed her hand saying, “Take us out!” Giving Storm the opening she needed as they disappeared again.
The Daemonite looked taken aback, but before she could strike he shrank away from her, absorbed by the shadows.

“Oh my stars and garters!” Beast exclaimed as the Institute came into view. The men all rushed from the vehicle, Wolverine leading the way.
It was a scene straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft story. Winged reptilian creatures were swooping overhead, living shadows crawling along the ground, making their way up the sides of the mansion, several students were racing around frantically and several others were lying, unmoving on the ground. Overhead dark clouds swirled, and thunder growled like a living entity.
From the dark caldron overhead a bolt of lightening flashed, slamming into the Institute through Storm’s loft. Heavy rain fell.
“Scott!” Jean screamed, racing from the front doors and throwing herself into his arms. “We have to get the students to the Danger Room!”
“Why the Danger Room?”
“Storm thinks that would be the safest place. It’s run by a generator, so all the lights can be kept on. No shadows. And the doors can be sealed.”
“Where is she Jeannie?” Wolverine demanded, claws extended.
Jean pointed to the flaming top of the Institute. From the hole punched in her room Ororo had flown up into the sky, deciding to bring the battle outdoors, leading the Daemonites away from the children.
“You want me,” she had taunted. “Come and get me.”
Wolverine looked up, spotting her instantly, her white hair flying around her head. He heard her over the roar of the wind, calling forth the elements that were hers alone to control, her voice pure and true. He ran towards the mansion at preternatural speed, teeth bared, slicing through anything that stepped in his path.
Wolverine looked up, his senses on full alert, as a winged creature plunged from the sky plowing into him, driving him to the ground. Large talons sinking into his ribcage.
“We meet again.”
Wolverine was on his feet in half a second, growling low and deep.
“The name’s Kerrok, if you don’t remember.”
Wolverine wasted no time on words, instead lunging, crouching low, swinging up and slicing Kerrok open from stem to stern. The monstrous creature opened its mouth disbelieving, releasing a stream of black liquid from its scaly lips. Wolverine growled, “Yer in my way,” kicking the Daemon soldier aside. Nothing was going to keep him from ‘Ro.
As if sensing his presence Ororo looked down at him from her position in the air. “No!” she ordered, lowering herself to stand in front of him, every inch the commanding Storm. “Help Jean and Cyclops get the children to safety!”
“I ain’t leavin’ ya, ‘Ro!” He hollered back.
She stepped towards him, opening her mouth to say something else when a black tentacle snapped out of the shadows, pulling Wolverine away from her, choking him.
“Wolverine!” her eyes flashed. She needn’t have worried. He sliced through the thin strip around his neck before his name was completely out of her mouth.
He smirked. “Worried?”
“No.” she lied. He reached her side, pulling her against him, kissing her. She kissed him back. They stood that way for a long minute, chaos and destruction all around them, but they were together and that was all that mattered.
“Love ya,” he said.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Storm, Warren is down!” Came Psylock’s cry, breaking them apart.
“I can’t find Peter!” She heard Kitty scream.
*Jean!* Storm mentally called, trying to focus despite the screaming.
*Here.*
*How are you fairing?*
*Not good, Storm. There are so many of them!*
*The children?*
*Sealing the doors now!*
Storm took a look around, heart heavy. The entire mansion was crawling with living shadows, every member of the X-men engaged in battle with warriors and sorcerers from hell, fighting hard, but they were losing. Storm wanted to scream in frustration. She should have seen this coming, should have been more prepared. But for some reason it never occurred to her that the Daemonites would strike here, at their home. After all, they had tried to lure her away from it more than once. Her oversight was costing people their lives and I tore at her heart.
“Not your fault, darlin’.” Logan said, reading her like a book.
“Oh, but it isss her fault.” A familiar, icy voice said. Adramalech’s dark form appeared from the shadows on the ground, directly underneath Wolverine, his scaly hands capturing Wolverine around the throat.
“Let him go!” She demanded. Images from her Phoenix dream flashed through her mind. No! Oh, please, no!
“I don’t think so, sa-ne a’nekh. How much does he mean to you?” Long fingers stretched, digging into flesh, crimson streaks sliding down Wolverine’s skin. Wolverine convulsed, his mouth opened as he roared. Storm saw small leach like organisms crawling over and under his skin.
“Let. Him. Go.” She stepped forward, the Daemonite’s grip tightened. His other clawed hand made it’s way to the opening of Wolverine’s shirt, directly over his heart. Storm tensed.
“It beats so strong, sssooo steady. For you.”
Storm screamed as the tips of the demon’s fingers sunk into Wolverine’s chest “Kitty!!!!” Her voice echoed.
“On it!” Kitty appeared from behind the demon, hands closing on Wolverine’s arm, phasing him out of the demon’s grasp, down through the ground.
Once Logan was safely away Storm smiled. Actually smiled at Adramalech, her eyes glowing white in the dark. “Make peace with your Gods, little man!!!” Ororo’s voice was like living thunder, lightening discharging from her hands, striking the Daemonite directly in the chest, sending him soaring through the air. Before the creature had even hit the ground Ororo’s eyes flashed, then swirled, their milky whites swirling in her rage.
“Yesss,” Adramalech hissed. “Feel your hate, feel your rage…become like usss.”
Storm drew back. “No! I am nothing like you, worm!” She called forth subzero winds, sending them howling around Adramalech. “I am an X-Man!”
Andamalech wailed in the cold. Storm was relentless.
*Jean!*
*Yes, Storm?*
*Logan?*
*Wounded, but fighting. We’re behind the mansion now. Surrounded.*
*Take care of him, Jean.*
Storm breathed a deep sigh of relief that Wolverine was alive, she had been uncertain as to what those leaches could do. Her relief was short lived as Andamalech let loose a string of chanted words that propelled her forward until she was in his grasp, his black eyes glaring down at her. “Feeeeeel.” He pressed the palm of his ice covered hand to her forehead. “Sssseeeee.”
Storm fell to the ground on all fours with a hoarse cry. The screams and cries of her fellow X-Men echoing all around her as the seemingly endless swarm of shadow demons attacked. They were losing, she knew. The X-Men were going to fall. In that moment as Andamalech held her she had seen and felt everything the Daemonites had done and were going to do. Everything. And she knew…she knew how it all would end. “Forgive me,” she whispered, eyes filling black.

It’s been three weeks since that night at the mansion, since the world as I know it ended.

I take in the room at a glance, low lights, exotic dancers on a tight cat walk, several scantily clad women sliding down poles, shimmy and shaking their asses for all they’re worth. It’s a shady nightspot, not known for its prestigious clientele. My keen eyesight and killer instincts lock on my target before my conscious mind has time to catch up.
He’s sitting at a table in the shadowed corner behind the bar. I see a brief flare of orange and know that he is taking a long drag from his cigarette. Seated beside him, one arm draped across his chest, is a pretty girl with mocha skin and pale blonde hair. This makes me insane, I barely prevent my six best friends from exploding from my hands and going for the guy’s throat, instead I approach the table in my usual predatory manner, low and fast.
“Gumbo.”
He jerks his head up but I know he ain’t surprised to see me, he’s more annoyed than anything. “Wolverine.”
“Leave.” I say to the bad doppelganger, my eyes never leaving the Cajun’s. For a moment she hesitates and I know she’s weighing it out: the money Gumbo here’s been laying on her, versus her fear of me. Doesn’t take long. She scoots herself away from him flashes me a nervous smile and darts across the room, pulling her wig off as she goes.
Gambit takes another long drag of his cigarette before crushing it out in the palm of his leather covered hand. “Ya ain’t my keeper, mon frere. I don’ need a babysitter.”
I grab a chair from the table beside us, swing it around on one leg so that I’m straddling it, arms resting over the narrow back. I fix him with a stare before saying, “We both know why I’m here.” He looks at me and I know he hears it too, those softly spoken words echoing in our minds, her velvet voice reaching us over the roar of the wind and the collapsing walls. “Watch after, Gambit.” she’d said. “He will need someone to keep him out of trouble, it follows him.”
I see it cross his face, a flicker of pain and anguish so acute for a moment I look away, knowing his face is a reflection of my own.
For a time neither of us says anything. He reaches across the table grabbing his whiskey, drinking straight from the bottle.
“That helping’?” I snarl. He gives me a humorless laugh.
“Can’t tell. Can’t feel. Don’ wanna feel.” A long pause, his voice taking on a rough cadence. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Fuck.”
I yank the bottle from his hands. “She wouldn’t want this for ya, Gumbo.”
He leans over the table, tries to yank the bottle back, I growl at him. He flings himself back into his seat. “What da hell, Wolverine. Just cause you can’t escape into an alcoholic haze don’ mean ya have at spoil my trip. She ain’t here t’ see. She‘s gone. Fuckin’ Gone! ” He emphasized as if I’d somehow forgotten that small detail. Rage and anger squeeze me like a vise and I have the nearly uncontrollable urge to slam my fist into his overly handsome features. I don’t, because from the look on his face part of him wants me to hit him, and I ain’t in the mood to do him any favors.
Instead I take a long drink from the bottle in my hands, slamming it back on the table, empty. Gambit looks at me, after a second, he says, “Healin’ factor’s a bitch, henh?”
I don’t say anything. He leans back against his chair, rocking it on its hind legs. “Ya gonna stay in da loft?” he asks after awhile. Twice now, since that fateful night, Gumbo has nearly been eviscerated sneaking into her attic loft, dropping in from the skylight. Both times he simply looked at me, at my extended claws and left through the balcony doors, not a word said. Both times he had been shit-faced drunk.
Up until this point I hadn’t given much thought to whether or not I would be staying in the loft. I had been sleeping in her room for months, and even with her gone I couldn’t bring myself to leave, instead torturing myself nightly staying in her hideaway, the place where she had confessed her love for me; laying in the same bed that she and I once shared, where we had made love countless times, the walls echoing with memories of teasing laughter, warm caresses. “Yeah,” I say. “I’ll be stayin’.” What’s a little salt in the wounds?
He nods, as if he approves of my decision. Not that I need his fuckin’ approval. Part of me still blames him for her being gone. If he’d never taken her away, maybe none of this would’ve happened. It’s a real pain in the ass trying to look after someone you want to gut like a fish, but I promised her, and I won’t let her down.
I stand up, ready to leave. He follows, pulling his brown duster on and tapping another cigarette from his pack. I pull out a cigar. He flicks a match and in the amber glow our eyes meet, his glowing devil red, mine I know reflecting the flame. She’d hated us smoking. Without a word he blows out the match, our bad habits left unlit.

It’s raining now, and in the distance I can hear the thunder rolling in. It’s been this way for awhile, freak thunderstorms, sudden shifts in temperature. It’s like mother nature itself is mourning her. I stare at the ceiling with dogged intensity, trying to block out the pain that the sound of thunder carries with it. It’s no use.
Unsolicited, images of her materialize in my mind. She’s sitting by the lake, toes wiggling in the water, her crystal blue eyes bright in the sun, strands of colorless hair floating around her perfect features. She’s leaning against my bike, impish smile playing with her mouth. Long tresses blowing behind us as we speed down the highway, her arms wrapped around my waist, her chin on my shoulder, sweet breath in my ear. She’s standing before me, naked and uncertain clad only in black high heels, her heart in her eyes. She’s beneath me, covered in sweat, skin glowing, mouth parted, eyes closed, head thrown back. She’s leaning over me, she thinks I’m asleep, her hand touches my face, her whispered words of love tickle my ear.
Then the images I’ve tried desperately to keep from my mind come relentlessly. She’s high above us all, black lightening flowing from her body, slamming into the earth with enough force to shake the ground, sending debris flying. Her hair is whipping about wildly as she bends nature to her will, hurricane force winds send demonic creatures sailing through the air, swirling into the funnels she is forming with only her thoughts. I don’t think anyone ever appreciated how unbelievably powerful she was until that night.
Hail the size of golf balls rained down with unerring precision, striking only our enemies, never her fellow X-Men. It’s a control that she’d fought hard for, but it wasn’t doing much good against the swarm of enemies we were engaged with. She knows this, we all do, but we fight ’cause we’re X-Men and that’s what we do. We fight. Until the last.
I roll over, trying to shake the memories from my mind, but they continue and I hear her voice, chanting in the same strange language she used to heal herself those many months ago, a voice that is both beautiful and terrifying as it reaches past space and through time. But this time it ain’t for healing. This time she’s casting a different spell. The demonic creatures hear it and they are afraid, their screeches turning even my blood cold. They take to the air, trying to flee. I think good, to myself, we got ‘em on the run. I think this ‘cause at first I don’t understand what’s really happening. Jeannie does and I hear her screaming for it all to “Stop! Please stop! No! There has to be another way! STOP!” She panicking and I don’t get it, but quickly enough I will.
A portal is opening in the sky, conjured into being by our leader. Our friend. Our beautiful Windrider. She is conjuring up a gate to hell with her melodic voice, summoning the winds back to her, carrying with them the terrible creatures we’d been waging war with.
She looks down at us through the chaos, looks at her family, her eyes swirling and I see their warm blue once more. “I love you, all,“ she says. “My life is blessed for having you in it.” She smiles with aching tenderness, looking directly at me and I see all the love we share in her eyes and my heart stops. I mean it literally fuckin’ stops. Goddamn healing factor kicks it back into gear though. (Gumbo’s right, it is a bitch.) I stand stupid as she swoops down, kisses me hard with every ounce of passion and love she possesses and is gone again before my arms can close around her. “Watch after, Gambit,“ she’s saying…
I roll onto my back, hands over my eyes, trying not to see what I know comes next.
She’s not looking at me anymore, she’s looking at Jean, and Jeannie is shaking her head no,no,no. I‘m beginning to see now, and I am terrified.
“Phoenix!” her voice is hard and demanding, and in that moment I think I hated her a little bit for figuring out that Jean wasn’t strong enough to do what she needed her to do, so she called forth the dormant power of the Phoenix that Jean held within.
The portal was growing larger and I swear I can still hear the voices of thousands coming through it, screams of agony and pain. She’s directly in front of it, and from the look on her face she heard them too. It doesn’t stop her though, instead she spreads her arms wide, eyes filling oil black, mouth moving, but I no longer hear the words ‘cause Jeannie’s flamed out, the Phoenix covering the mansion and us in a protective psi-shield and that’s when my world ends.
It’s over in a blink, like a star collapsing the portal sucks everything in it, the demons, the scattered debris and my heart. There’s a flash of bright light and she’s gone, vacuumed into the blackness behind her. I howled with loss. I was told later that I went crazy, attacking Jeannie. I don’t really remember. I don’t really care.
I sit up, running a hand down my face. The pain in my chest is relentless, unending. I take a ragged breath and close my eyes. Like this, eyes closed, with the smells of her room all around me I can almost feel her here. Almost.
I hear a soft thud and open one eye. Gambit is standing in the center of the room, dripping wet, his red on black eyes surveying the room, as if he’s memorizing it, or maybe he’s reliving memories of his own. Eventually his gaze rests on me, his jaw is clenched. He loved her. Almost as much as I did.
I reach behind me, pulling one of the pillows from beneath the counterpane and tossing it at him. He catches it with reflexes a cat would envy, and brings it to his face, breathing deep. Her scent is still there, I know. He leaves without a backward glance, back up through the skylight with acrobatic agility.
I am once again alone in the dark and silence, the night breeze passing along my bare shoulders like lover’s fingers. On that same wind I hear the muffled sound of broken sobs, and I know the Cajun is on the roof, in the rain, his face buried in her pillow. I envy him that, because I can’t cry. Hell, it’s been three weeks and I can’t even say her name, the pain is so intense.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, looking down at the floor. Slowly I rise, and with deliberate steps I walk to the double doors leading to her balcony. I throw them open, facing the storm, the rain and wind pelting my bare flesh. She’s all around me. In the wind- on the rain- in the loft- in my head. Everywhere and nowhere. I am empty inside, hollow and broken and I hurt, I hurt so much I can’t stand it! I drop to my knees and finally-- finally her name is torn from my throat in a scream of rage and anguish and endless love.
“’RO!!!!”