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Secret Burdens

Chapter Twenty Three: Sifting Through the Aftermath

"She has always known how to fight for herself. Now, she learns how to fight for him."

* * *

"You seem to be doing better."

Ororo looked up at Hank's voice and saw him standing in the threshold to her office, his hands in his suit pockets, a warm smile gracing his face.

Ororo was bent over a filing cabinet, rifling through end of term papers when she heard his entrance. She filed the last paper into its respective folder and closed the cabinet, standing up straight to look at him, a smile blooming on her face in response. She reached a hand up and tucked an errant strand of white behind her ear. The rest of her hair was tucked into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She was already back to three piece suits. Her pinstripe jacket hung over the back of her chair behind her desk and she had the sleeves of her deep purple chiffon top rolled up, the material loose and flowing around her healing wound. She pushed the drawer closed and moved to Hank, the heels of her boots light and muted on the carpet.

"Much," Ororo answered as she made her way before the blue ambassador and crossed her arms. "It is refreshing to be back here and doing some good for these students."

Hank sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. "You know, Ororo, the orders were for three to four weeks inactivity before you got back to work. It's barely been two."

Ororo shook her head and waved a hand dismissively. "Sitting at my desk doing paperwork and teaching classes is hardly strenuous."

Hank narrowed his eyes at her and leaned against the doorway. "Uh-huh," he said disbelievingly. "I noticed you reserved a slot in the Danger Room schedule for later today."

Ororo pursed her lips and prepared for an argument. "It is merely light exercise. Logan is helping me with physical therapy."

"You can do that in the recovery room you know."

"I know." Her features grew soft suddenly. "But the air feels dead in there. I have never enjoyed time in the med-lab or recovery room. I need to be where I have always been most comfortable to make any sort of progress. And that is within the X-facilities. I will brook no argument in this."

Hank stayed silent as he eyed her, still hesitant to approve of her plan. But no one ever made Ororo Munroe do something she did not want to. He chuckled at the thought. This argument was over before it even started. Sighing, Hank moved from his lean on the doorway and took his hands from his pockets. He gripped her shoulders softly. "Alright. I trust you to read your own body's needs. Just…don't be afraid to lean on us if you should need." He smiled reassuringly at her, his head cocking to the side in a silent plea.

She nodded softly, her hands coming up to rest on his atop her shoulders. "I will. I promise."

"Just as long as you know you have a support system here."

"I always have." She quirked her lips up in an appreciative smile and moved from his grip to grab her jacket on the back of her chair. "Which reminds me, Kurt is leaving about now, is he not?" She checked the watch on her wrist.

Hank nodded and moved from the doorway to let her pass once she had retrieved her jacket and made her way back to the door. "Yes. I was coming up to get you actually. The kids have already said their goodbyes. The rest of the team is in the foyer with him."

Ororo raised her arms slowly and moved to slide her jacket back over her shoulders, careful not to stretch her back too far, still conscious of her recent injury. The two of them made their way down the hallway past several classrooms.

There was a comfortable silence for several moments as Hank eyed her. He figured now was as good a time as ever. "Ororo, have you spoken to Logan about his actions against Shrap?"

Ororo stopped in her walk to face Hank. There was something heavy about her features when she spoke, her voice coming out in a sigh. "Not as of yet, Hank."

"Don't you think you should?" His voice was not accusatory or demanding, only sympathetic. He found his hands grasped behind his back as he watched her.

She looked away for a moment. "I am not certain I will say the things you expect of me, friend."

"Ororo-"

"No, Hank." Her gaze is sure when she looks back to him. "As much as I want to berate him for such careless action, such reckless abandon and violence, it is not so simple."

They stand alone in one of the mansion's hallways, the faint light of the dimming afternoon coming in slants through the windows. They can hear the students just outside.

"Because I cannot fault him." Her voice was quiet between them. "I moved on instinct as well. I cannot condemn him for doing the same, regardless of the result. It would be hypocritical."

Hank shifted his feet uncomfortably, but he knew this conversation had to happen. And he knew he might need to be the one to say things that neither of them wanted to hear. "Then are those the kind of instincts we want from an X-Men?"

Ororo swallowed tightly but did not move her gaze from Hank's. She wanted to be furious with him for suggesting it. Wanted to snap in righteous anger at the question, but some part of her knew it needed to be said. Some part of her questioned it herself.

"You know as well as I the lives he has taken, the blood he has spilled," Hank continued hesitantly, moving to glance out the window at the children running around the estate grounds. "We need to consider what influences we will allow. We need to think about the well-being of these students. Even if it calls for the removal of a friend."

Ororo clenched her fists at her sides and furrowed her brows, watching Hank as he looked out the window.

"You know I don't enjoy this, Ororo. But if you will not speak to him then I must. Whether it will be to ask him to leave, or demand changes be made if he should stay. But something must change. And we've seen he's capable of change. We've seen the man he could be. It shouldn't –"

"No, we have not."

Ororo's sudden interruption surprised Hank and he turned to watch her in the faint orange light of the hallway. The wood of the floors and walls were warm around them. He furrowed his brows in confusion and cocked his head in her direction.

"We have not seen the man he could be. We have only seen the man he is." Ororo's voice was steady and even, no sign of the heated frustration and anxiety brimming just below the surface. "I could not ask him to be anything more."

Hank sighed and moved to step toward her. "Ororo." He had hoped there would be no need for argument.

But Ororo only raised her chin and leveled her blue eyes unflinchingly on Hank. "He is not an X-Men because of the possibility of his future, because of the chance of good to be done by him. He is an X-Men because of his actions in the present, and his attempts at moving beyond his past. We do not accept those that we think can change but those who wish to change. It is all the difference in the world. Even through all the pain and death and betrayals that he has experienced, he has still shown some of the most vulnerable and steadfast humanity I have ever seen. He may not be the ideal. He may not even be a respectable role-model. But he has fought and lost for the Dream just as ardently and desperately as the rest of us. I could not ask for more from an X-Men. I could not ask for more from a friend."

Hank rolled the words over his tongue before speaking and he eyed her meaningfully. "He could have killed Shrap."

Ororo nodded, her hands loosening from the fists at her sides, her features softening somewhat. "And the old Logan might have. I understand this. But he did not. He stopped himself."

"Only for you," Hank gestured to her as he spoke. "Not for some idealistic view of life and death. Not for any ethical or moral reason. Not because he knew it was wrong. He did it for you."

Ororo opened her mouth to speak and saw the reluctance in his face. She closed her mouth at the look in his eye, moving to pull his arm from its stiff place at his side. She held his thick paw in her own grip, felt the soft fur beneath her fingers. "That he finds something – anything – to be more important than the urge to kill, then bloody revenge, speaks volumes to the real man behind the Wolverine. Do you understand what that means? Do you understand why I cannot simply dismiss it with a condemnation of his actions?" She looked at their hands between them and closed her eyes. "If you could know the growth he has seen, the good he has done. If you could see the man I see…"

Hank sighed and pulled his hand from Ororo's, stuffing his hands back into his pockets as he watched the floor between them.

Ororo opened her eyes to watch him. "He has not given up on me. I will not give up on him." There was a finality to her voice that echoed in the hallway around them.

Hank pursed his lips and drew in a deep breath, raising his eyes to catch Ororo's adamant gaze. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Subtle relief flooded Ororo's features and she cocked her head to look at him. "You know I will always put those in our care first. Perhaps it is time we cared for Logan as well."

Hank smirked at her and shook his head. "Alright," he answered. "You haven't steered me wrong yet."

"'Yet'?" Ororo asked playfully, linking her arm with Hank's and moving to direct them down to the foyer once more.

"Yet," he repeated, narrowing his eyes warningly at her.

She gripped his arm in her hold and held his gaze. There was something tender and soft in her smile when she spoke. "Thank you."

* * *

There were several people littering the foyer when Hank and Ororo made their way down the stairs. Ororo immediately found her eyes searching for Logan and caught sight of him leaning against the threshold to the foyer on the opposite side of the room. He was already watching her, and she belatedly realized he probably smelled her entrance before they even made it to the stairs. Something about that idea sent a welcome heat through her. She smiled at him and watched him grin back at her.

Bobby, Rogue, Kitty, Peter and Warren were already wishing Kurt their goodbyes, and all the voices crashed together in the room. Hank made his way over to Warren and Peter as they spoke to let Ororo say her goodbyes. She reached Kurt and he turned to her, his smile brilliant at her entrance. They embraced and held each other for a long time. She sighed into his shoulder, her eyes closing at his warmth and she did not want to let go.

"Are you sure you cannot stay longer?"

He chuckled softly into her hair. "I'm sorry, Windrider. I've stayed all I can."

Ororo breathed in the moment one last time before releasing him. She watched him through gentle eyes, their hands still held between them. "Thank you. For everything you have done, on the mission and at home."

Kurt only raised his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "Of course. We are X-Men, are we not?" he asked warmly.

Ororo beamed back at him before she noticed the bandages missing from his arm. "Your wound. It is healing well?"

Kurt raised the arm in question to look at the scabbing abrasion just below his sleeve. "Well enough. I should be the one worried about you, though." He lowered his arm and raised his brows at her, a look of concern flashing across his face.

"No need," she waved off dismissively. "Hank does great work. And Logan has been very patient with me in therapy."

Kurt's mouth smoothed into a smirk and he flashed his yellow eyes momentarily to Logan, who he found still in his leaned position against the threshold, trading words with Kitty. "Logan, hmm?" His voice was intentionally teasing.

Ororo playfully swatted his uninjured arm and Kurt tore his gaze from the Wolverine and back to her.

"Now don't you start with me as well."

"Just making an observation. A very interesting observation." He snickered softly before catching Ororo's narrowed eyes.

"Yes, Logan." Her smirk softened into the slight lilt of a smile as her gaze moved from Kurt to somewhere past his shoulder, somewhere off in a time Kurt figured was sacred. "Very much so actually." Her voice was peaceful in a way he had never heard from her before. It made his hold on her hands tighten faintly.

"He makes you happy?" There was something serious in his tone as he questioned her, his eyes intent on hers.

She rolled her eyes slightly. "That is a very loaded word, Kurt," she laughed softly. At his patient silence she continued. "He challenges me. Makes me question my very beliefs. Sends every nerve in my body into pulsing excitement. And yet…I feel safe with him. I feel at home." She sighed and rolled her thumb over his hand. "I feel a peace I haven't felt in many, many long years, Kurt." There was a sudden break to her voice. It was barely a moment. Barely an instant. But it was enough.

Kurt released her hands and moved to hug her again. She embraced him tightly, closing her eyes at the contact.

"You deserve every kind of peace this world can offer, Windrider." His voice was warm against her neck and he felt her nod gratefully in his hold.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since the Montauk incident. Ororo had fallen back into her headmistress duties. Hank had returned to his ambassador post and the younger X-men members were preparing for graduation. The anxious anticipation of spring had brought with it the collective excitement of senior students, the gradual warming of the estate grounds, the general pulse and relief of all at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Even in the midst of the students' excitement, Ororo felt matters of the X-Men weighing on her still. She remembered Hank's words before Kurt's departure and though she had delayed any serious talk about the repercussions of the Montauk fight with Logan, she knew the subject needed to be broached. But Logan was not the only concern she had about the X-team. The last three weeks had brought new issues to light.

She was in the Danger Room with Logan when she finally decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Alright, Storm, deep breathes. Just tell me when to ease up, okay?" Logan reminded her as he took her hands in his. They were sitting on the floor of the Danger Room, Ororo with her legs spread out before her, Logan kneeling in front, between them. She nodded and resumed her steady breathing, feeling the slow stretch of her muscles as Logan pulled her arms toward him. She stretched her back out as she leaned further and further into the pull, then nodded, and Logan stopped, easing her back slowing. They repeated this for several turns, Logan's hands grasping hers and steadily pulling her closer, extending the tender muscles of her lower back where her wound was, and then easing back. Her stomach ached dully with the exercises but nothing sharp or tearing. She was determined to continue the therapy and exercises regardless of the soreness she continually woke to. She'd take the pain over helplessness any day.

After several counts of the exercise, Logan released her hands and watched her as she closed her eyes and continued her even breathing. There was sweat on her brow already, but her features were calm and controlled, no hint of pain, and Logan waited for her to steady herself before they would move to stand and continue into the next exercise. These sessions with her had been oddly relaxing, and yet, at times, taut with the subtle vulnerability of her dependence on him. It was humbling. He had always figured there was too much pride between the two of them for anything so exposing and intimate.

And it was definitely intimate. In a way Logan had never felt before. Not in any physical way. Though he had touched her body more times in these sessions than in the entirety of his knowing her, there was never anything sexual about it. He'd be lying if he said her proximity, the feel of her form and movement, the constant scent of her wasn't tempting. He felt the faint insistence of his desire constantly. Brimming there just below the surface. He didn't think he'd ever stop wanting her.

But his need and his yearning were always tampered by a peaceful awe, a tender patience he hadn't thought he was capable of before. The simple motion of her hand as it reaches for him, the uninhibited lean of her weight against him, the way she feels no need to hide her pain, no need to satisfy her pride by not appearing weak before him. Logan wondered how he could ever have earned the trust of her vulnerability. When she looks at him, he wants to be the kind of man that deserves her glance.

Logan felt closer to her in these therapy sessions than he ever had with his lips pressed to hers. It was a feeling that scared him with its implications.

Ororo opened her eyes to catch Logan watching her steadily. She did not move to stand. Instead, she sighed, moving to cross her legs Indian style as she held her hands before her.

Logan furrowed his brows at her.

"I have been needing to speak with you. I cannot delay this discussion any longer." She did not turn her eyes from his gaze.

Logan moved from his kneeling position to plop against the ground of the Danger Room, his arms moving back to brace him against the floor as he watched her. "What about?"

There was something regretful in Ororo's gaze, something sad and frustrated all at once. Logan tensed at her look. Every hair on his body stood at end. There was a sinking suspicion in his gut. He wasn't naïve enough to believe this conversation would end any way other than bad.

"You," she replied softly.

Logan breathed in deeply. Let the slaughter begin.





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