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Secret Burdens
Chapter Nine: Scent Memory


"It was becoming more than they knew. An intrinsic need."


African Acacia trees. That's what Logan imagined. A lone, tall acacia tree with its branches threading into the skyline. He imagined the expanse of desert behind it. There were no other trees dotting the horizon. The steady trunk hooked its roots into the ground and spread its branches high, offering up tender white blossoms to the blue. The acacia harbors inside it the moisture from the last rainstorm to pass over the empty savannah months ago, savoring and strengthening to last the drought until the clouds roll back over the mountains. It is the only water source for miles, but this acacia knows the heat and the dryness. This acacia knows how to endure.

Logan blinked, and realized he was staring down into Ororo's face. Her eyes were hesitant upon his, her fingers framing his cheeks. She was trembling.

There was a still moment between them before Logan pulled in a breath, and he thinks of acacias once more. Then he recognized it, that scent. It was coming from her.

She smelled like the oasis in a desert. The only water for miles.

His fist still embedded in the wall, Logan leaned against that arm for support. He watched as Ororo took in deep, heavy breathes and he wondered if she could smell the acacias too. Her shaking fingers tugged lightly at his skin and he realized she was slowly pulling him toward her. His eyes roved hers and he licked his lips unconsciously. Logan found his body leaning into her pull as he raised his other hand to grip her wrist. Before he knew it, he could feel her breath fanning his lips, her pulse throbbing painfully against his fingers.

The scent of acacias was drowning him.

Suddenly, a light, steady pounding found its way to Logan's ears and he recognized the noise just as Ororo's eyelids fluttered closed. He released her wrist, pulling away swiftly so that he was a full three feet apart from her. Bits of plaster fell from the impact of the wall as his fist left the hole and his sudden absence had Ororo snapping her eyes open to him. She had a moment to blink furiously in confusion at him before she heard the loudening tread of footfalls. Simultaneously, their heads snapped to the door in time to see Peter throwing it open. He was in full steel casing, his broad shoulders spanning the width of the doorframe as he burst in.

All three of them looked at each other in sharp bewilderment when Kitty's legs dangled from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Her body followed through, dropping her to the floor as she hollered "Everyone okay?"

Ororo glanced at Kitty, narrowing her eyes in confusion. She was still trying to reign in her breathing. "What?" she asked, as she brought her hand on up to her chest in an effort to calm herself.

Seeing only Logan and Ororo occupying the room, Peter's armored plating shimmered as it rescinded, leaving behind pale flesh and a cotton t-shirt. "We heard a loud thud and a crunching sound when we were in the rec room."

"Yeah," Kitty agreed. "We thought we heard Wolvie roaring and came running."

Logan shot a look at Kitty for her nickname for him but remained silent.

Peter stepped forward slowly, eyeing the gaping hole in the wall just past Ororo's shoulder. It was dangerously close to her head, he thought. "Are either of you hurt?"

Ororo flickered her gaze to Logan momentarily to find him staring at Peter, his jaw set tightly. She glanced back at Peter and saw that he had rested his gaze on Logan as well. She swallowed thickly, fingering the edge of her blouse collar. "No, no. We are fine, Peter. Thank you."

Kitty, now sufficiently satisfied that no harm was done, crossed her arms and looked between the two. "What happened then?"

Ororo cleared her throat and stepped toward the young girl. "Kitty, it was nothing. A...disagreement."

When Kitty eyed her suspiciously, she continued. "However, we have solved it," she said, licking her lips. She glanced back at Logan in hopes of his reassurance toward the girl, but he was looking resolutely away from all of them. "Honestly, Kitty," she looked back toward the girl, "Logan and I are fine. I promise."

"Storm?"

At Peter's low tone, Ororo turned to him. Though he continued staring at Logan, she knew his question was directed to her. "Are you sure you are unharmed?"

Logan took the moment to look back at Peter, returning his guarded stare. "The woman's fine, Petey. Didn't ya hear her?" he growled lowly.

There was an uneasy silence as Kitty and Peter eyed their fellow X-man nervously.

Wanting to pierce the stifled air in the room, Ororo placed a hand on Kitty's slender shoulders, urging her toward Peter and the door as she followed. "Come. I have been neglecting dinner for you all. Marie is probably alone in the kitchen wondering where we all are."

The two young students didn't question her commands to move, but turned hesitantly into the open hallway themselves.

Ororo turned back to Logan as she was about to leave the room and join Kitty and Peter as they waited for her in the hallway. She gulped thickly, offering "I am sorry to have disturbed you, Logan," before she moved past the threshold.

But before she could grab the doorknob to close the door on her way out, Logan had taken the few steps toward her and grabbed her wrist. She froze in her movement and lifted her eyes to his. His stare was dark and heavy on her, his thumb grazing her pulse as it thrummed.

He suddenly wanted to feel her trembling once more, beneath his touch.

"We ain't done yet," he said lowly, but there was something in his tone that made Ororo think he said it more as a request than a command. He didn't blink as he looked at her.

Her only response was a mute nod as she slipped from his grasp, reaching for the door and closing it behind her.

* * *

It was nightfall before Rogue found Logan outside the back of the mansion, nursing a beer while he lounged against the back steps. She wandered over to him silently, until she was standing just beside him above the steps. Turning his head in her direction, Logan smirked lightly before patting the space next to him and scooting over a few inches. Rogue smiled warmly and took the opportunity to sit down next to him. She brought her feet up to the step just below her so that she could rest her arms crossed upon her knees. Still staring out over the dark lawn of the estate, Logan took another swig of the beer in his hand. It was then that Rogue narrowed her eyes at it, pulling a finger out to point accusingly as she drawled, "Didn't Ms. Munroe get rid of those?"

Logan paused mid sip, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He lowered the beer, and threw her an incredulous look.

She sighed, dropping her finger. "What am I talking about? You'd find a way."

She saw him smile, his canines glinting in the low glow from the porch lights. Rogue dropped her arms back to her knees and joined him in looking out over the dark trees and expanse of grass stretching before them. There was a silence between them for a while, save for the soft sloshing of liquid each time Logan tipped his beer back for a sip. Moths buzzed around the low porch lights just behind them and the cool air was beginning to feel sharp across the back of Rogue's neck. She pulled her knees in tighter.

"You're still here." She didn't look at him as she put that one out there.

Logan mulled his answer over a minute before he responded, "Unfinished business."

"Ah." Rogue nodded. "With Ms. Munroe?"

Logan was silent.

"I think she wanted you to stay."

"Why do ya still call her that?" Logan asked, turning to eye Rogue.

She blinked her confusion.

"Storm," he continued, motioning with the beer in his hand. "Why do ya still call her 'Ms. Munroe'?"

Pursing her lips a bit, she thought about it before answering. "I suppose...because I'm no longer an X-man. I can't call her 'Storm' like we were teammates. She's still my teacher you know?" she asked, nudging Logan with her knees. "World History 2001. Awful boring if you ask me."

Logan smirked. "Yeah, I'll bet. She's too tight-up for teaching."

Rogue nodded in agreement before continuing. "Yeah, but now, it feels natural to call her Ms. Munroe again. Just like it was natural to call her Storm when we were training. I mean," she shrugged noncommittally, "I guess a name makes a difference with whose callin' it."

"Yeah." Logan thought back to when he found Ororo outside in the early morning a couple weeks ago. The first time he had called her by her true name. He had pressed her then, pressed her far enough that he began questioning his motives. He was beginning to discover bits and pieces of her, bits and pieces of the past he had started out trying to uncover. Now it didn't seem so important. Now that he had said her name, a name he never truly knew or understood, a name that fell from his lips now with an ease he was beginning to question, it became an intrinsic need that made him wary.

Ororo.

He still didn't know her in the way he yearned to, still only saw the parts she allowed him to see. But he had also played the game, shown his cards, risked the loss. That was the only way this game would progress. The more he gave up, the more he got. And he was beginning to figure out the wonders of what Ororo could give.

"She still calls me 'Marie'." Logan was brought out of his thoughts when Rogue went on. "I think the last time she called me 'Rogue' was when she called me into her office just after I took the cure."

Logan raised an eyebrow at her. "Gettin' called into the principal's office? I think I'm rubbing off on ya, kiddo."

She sighed in exasperation, but she was smiling. "No, you idiot." Rogue sniffed, rubbing her cold forearms. "She wanted to talk to me, about the cure."

Lowering his smirk, Logan motioned for her to continue.

"Well," she began, "it was in the midst of that craziness with Professor Xavier and Ms. Grey and well..." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't make any movements that suggested he was uncomfortable about the topic. She wondered about that. Lately, Logan had been losing that gleam in his eye whenever anyone even mentioned Jean's name. "I just figured with everything you were dealing with you didn't need me dropping this on you either."

"I would've listened, kid, you know that." He bore his gaze into hers.

She swallowed, nodding. "I know, Logan. But I'm a big girl, you know? I can take care of myself."

He snorted, before tossing back the last of his beer.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Rogue huffed. "Don't snort at me, Wolverine. I know your secrets," she finished lowly, smiling playfully.

She paused when she saw Logan's shoulders stiffen, remembering that night he ran her through, and his fragmented memories stayed with her. Realizing what she said, Rogue's smile fell. "Sorry. I didn't mean...that-"

"Don't matter, darlin'," he interrupted, forcing a small quirk of his lip.

She smiled gratefully, then looked back out to the lawn. "Well, I thought I could always talk to you later. I guess now is later." She chuckled. "Don't worry though. Ms. Munroe helped. More than you could imagine."

Now his curiosity was piqued. "What'd she say?" He set the empty bottle down on the step before him.

"I thought she'd question me about taking the cure. But all she said was that if I had reasons good enough for me, then they would be good enough for her. She said that mutants' greatest mistake was in defining themselves as other than human. We were always humans first, and we would all die humans. She said a little gene mutation, one way or the other, didn't define my humanity. And she wanted to make sure I let no one else define it for me either."

Logan stared silently out at the lawn, rolling his fingers lazily around the rim of the empty beer bottle. Rogue cocked her head to look at him. The porch lights behind them didn't fully reach the steps they sat on, leaving Logan's face in slants of shadow that reminded her of the many darknesses she didn't know about him. He opened his mouth hesitantly, and she waited expectantly for him to speak.

"I wonder if she feels that way 'bout all o'us."

Rogue understood that there were things about Logan she'd never be privy to, memories he would never share with her. But she could still pick out that hopeful gleam in his voice every now and then.

She leaned her head against his thick arm, closing her eyes. "I know she does, Logan. That's why she can continue the Professor's dream." She sensed the tension in his muscles beneath her cheek. Taking a breath she added, "I know she sees it in you, too."

Feeling his arm lift beneath her, Rogue raised her head to see Logan push himself off the step and stand next to her. She blinked up at him, not sure whether she was waiting for a response or a farewell.

He raised the empty bottle in his hand. "Then cheers to your humanity. Thanks for the talk, kiddo."

Before Rogue could open her mouth to respond he had turned and taken the few steps up to the back door of the mansion, entering the loud bustle of students enjoying the rec room on a Friday night. She sat outside only a handful of minutes more before entering also, in search of Bobby.

* * *

The med-lab door slid open as Ororo entered, carrying a small pile of papers organized in manila folders. She stepped over to the computer station on the other side of the observation tables, the tapping of her heels the only sound in the empty room. It felt so cold in here when Hank was away. She hated coming into the med-lab when he was absent. It made it so much harder for her not to think of Jean each time she came down. In a way, Ororo tried to avoid the med-lab if possible, if only because she felt intrusive to what was Logan's sanctuary, and not hers. Hers was elsewhere. Somewhere between her greenhouse and Scott's old room.

But as she took a seat in front of the lab computer and placed the files neatly next to the keyboard, ready to start entering student medical data, she noticed the absence of a scent she was becoming familiar with. She could usually place the scent and smoke of a cigar lingering around the med-lab, as much as she often told Logan to leave his cigars outside. This time, however, she could barely detect it. It had to be a few weeks since he was done here. The thought made Ororo's breath quicken. She wondered at the feeling of displacement she felt when she couldn't detect his presence.

Slowly, she pulled the sleeve of her green silk blouse from her wrist and brushed her fingertips across the skin where Logan had held her earlier that day. She wondered if he could feel her tremors then. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she recalled his words as they parted.

"We ain't done yet."

Goddess help her, she hoped they weren't.





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