Chapter Four: Complications
Something about riding always left Ororo with a feeling of calm. Just strapping the saddle onto Radi’s broad back gave her comfort. She could just disappear for a couple of hours; rediscover secret places in the forests or by the river. Radi would run all day if she asked it of him, taking her further from home and responsibility.
Today they rode straight north, into the thick trees that surrounded their home. Radi’s powerful body took them swiftly through the underbrush, sending woodland creatures scurrying for cover. Her horses’ breath clouded in the cool autumn air, the grunt of exertion lost in the pounding of hooves on the soft loam below.
Ororo let herself smile as she crouched low on Radi’s back. They effortlessly jumped a fallen log, the horse scarcely needing the direction of reins and bridle. She smiled into the midday sun, lifting her face to the glowing orb in absolute worship.
Though the temperature inched toward fifty, the rider wore no coat or even long sleeves. For this ride, she wanted to feel the horse move beneath her, so she donned a simple dress of cloud-soft cotton. Her feet were bare and her hair loose to dance with the wind. Out here, she was not the teacher of children or the righter of mutant wrongs. Here, she could simply be Ororo; a woman out for a ride with her beloved mount.
She kept Radi at a rolling canter, careful with his brittle legs in the uncertain ground. When she pulled him up by the reins to look about, the horse pounded the ground and threatened to rear up. Ororo laughed, the sound bouncing through the trees. Storm reached forward to stroke his beautiful neck, leaning so he would turn that massive head to meet her eyes.
“Do you want to run, my darling?” She questioned in the swift click of flawless Swahili.
Radi reared gently, tossing his wild mane. Ororo laughed again. “All right. To the river and back, fast as you can.”
Her heels tapped his flanks slightly in the stirrups and Radi reared higher. He tore off into the wild, kicking up dead leaves and earth with every mighty stride. Ororo could not hold back the yelp of cheer, clutching the reins to prevent an accidental fall. Radi vaulted over another log in one beautiful leap, landing at a dead run that not even Hell could falter.
Trees whizzed by at the wonderful speed, Ororo’s hair caught behind her like a banner. She wondered, briefly, what a picture they made together. The powerful thoroughbred stallion changed directions swiftly, between enormous oaks with a preternatural swiftness. Ororo often told her friends that Radi was not a pet or a means to ride, but her soul mate on a level not many would understand.
“Storm?”
She turned her head sharply, pulling lightly on the reins. The rider whispered in her native tongue to slow the rushing stallion, hearing another call of her codename from behind them. Recognizing the voice, she yanked the reins, turning her mount sharply.
“Scott?”
With the serenity altered by her friend, Ororo kicked at her horse again, sending Radi on a swift trot through the woods. Scott was calling for her, several meters back. She leaned up in the stirrups, searching the trees carefully for Scott’s coffee mare.
“Marco!” He called from the left.
Ororo smiled. “Polo!”
He appeared seconds later on his winded Quarter. Unlike Ororo, Cyclops was dressed for the weather in a thick wool coat and sturdy brown boots. He gave her a broad smile, nodding as the horses nickered at one another familiarly.
“Great day for a ride,” he greeted fondly. “Thought I’d join you.”
“Why Scott Summers,” Ororo teased. “Don’t you have a class?”
“Not this morning,” he replied, pulling Holly up beside Radi. “The new parts for my Mazda aren’t in. You two gave us a chase.”
“Ah,” Storm hummed. “Radi was in the mood to run. Good morning, Holly.”
The Quarter Horse tilted her head at Ororo in greeting. Both riders turned back toward the river, urging their mounts into another gentle gallop. Scott lapsed into silence, looking up at what would be a red-tinted sun and similarly hued sky. Ororo smiled at him, marveling that it took a person so much clothing to be warm on such a day.
Her mutation granted immunity to cold, so she could enjoy a bikini in five feet of snow easily. Jean usually pouted about that.
“How is Marie doing?” She asked as the horses took them through the forest.
“I didn’t see her.” Scott answered quietly. “I did see Logan though. The Professor is delving into his mind today.”
Ororo grinned, turning to look at her friend. “I am quite sure that will be an interesting story. Has Jean learned any more about his mutations?”
Scott grunted. “Not really. I caught some of what the Professor was saying to him. Whoever did this to Wolverine had no regard for his life. His nightmares seem to be flashes of memory about the ordeal, but nothing coherent.”
Ororo nodded silently, mulling over this information. She’d wondered what a man so dangerous as this Wolverine could fear. The unknown, Ororo thought with a pang of sympathy, the ghosts who came in the night to torture without reason or explanation. He injured his young friend while those ghosts consumed him, waking to the horror that he’d committed such crimes himself.
“’Roro?”
“Yes?” She turned to Scott once more.
Scott reached for her reins, halting the progression of both horses. By the set to his jaw, Ororo knew he was going to say something unpleasant or insulting, so she braced for it. Scott seemed to chew on his tongue for several seconds, deciding on which words to use so he did not hurt her feelings too badly.
“We don’t know anything about him,” her friend began slowly. “He’ll be gone before you’ve turned around twice.”
Surprised, Storm arched a white brow. “What is your meaning?”
He sighed. “Don’t get involved, sweetpea. Logan isn’t the type that sticks around for long. I just…I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Before Ororo could respond, Scott’s head snapped up sharply. Holly whinnied and shifted uncomfortably, as though sensing the change in her rider’s mood. Because Ororo stiffened as well, Radi pawed at the earth, nickering gently.
“It’s Jean,” Scott told his companion quietly. “Shit. Rogue’s missing. We’ve gotta get back.”
Ororo yanked on the reins, dug her heels into Radi’s flank, and urged her mount to push the limits of his speed. She heard the pounding hoof beats of Scott’s horse behind her, but Radi was built for long-range running and easily outstripped the born sprinter.
Rogue. What happened? She was fine just hours ago. Goddess, where could she have gone? She knew no one in New York and for all they knew, Magneto would attempt to use the girl to draw Wolverine out of his safe house.
With no other thought than Rogue’s safety in mind, Ororo and Radi burst through the tree line and raced for the mansion’s stables. All the while, Storm prayed to her goddess that they would find Rogue.
~**~
“Whattya mean she’s gone?”
Wolverine grabbed his borrowed coat from a nearby chair, attempting to shrug it on while verbally eviscerating the pretty doctor and her bald mentor. The woman came to them moments before, telling the Professor that Rogue was missing. Logan gathered from the brief conversation that a boy Rogue was forming a friendship with alerted the X-Woman that no one had seen her in some time.
“Bobby said she was supposed to meet him for lunch,” Jean explained in a soothing tone. “I thought she might be with Jubilee or Kitty, but my mindsweep didn’t find her.”
Logan moved to the door, intent on finding her. He ignored the Professor and Jean’s calls to come back, knowing only the need to protect her.
“Logan?”
He pulled up short when Storm opened the door before he could. She swept into the room, compassion and worry shining from those dark eyes. For some reason, her sudden appearance calmed Wolverine enough that the red leaked from his vision. She patted his hand gently, giving the newcomer a small, understanding smile.
“Professor,” Cyclops called as he entered. “Where is she?”
“I have not been able to check,” Charles replied. Logan continued to stare at Storm, as though hoping she had the answers he needed. “Logan?”
“What?” He snapped, turning to look at the bald man.
“Come with us to the lower levels.”
“We need to find Rogue.” Logan countered, moving to exit the room again. Storm stopped him by blocking the path, her hands grasping his wrists gently.
“That is exactly what we will do,” she explained softly. “Trust us. We want to find her as much as you do.”
For a reason Logan feared he might never understand, he relaxed. The determination in Storm’s eyes kept him tethered to reality while the beast within raged to be set free. He followed her faithfully down the hall with the others, back into the expansive underground.
Xavier moved to a door bearing the signature “X”. When the door opened, Logan held back while the Professor wheeled himself inside. He glanced at Storm for an explanation, one eyebrow arched inquisitively.
It was then he noted the unusual state of her clothing. Instead of the tight trousers and form-fitting tops he’d seen her wear already, she’d donned a cotton sundress of pale blue. Thin straps modeled slender shoulders and her feet, for some reason, were bare. Logan sampled the air, finding the distinct scent of horse clinging to her body.
That long hair twisted in coils to her waist. Logan’s hands itched to touch it, to see if it could possibly be as soft as it looked. She dropped her lashes coyly, then cleared her throat to speak.
“Cerebro,” Storm explained. “A supercomputer that the Professor taps into with his mind. From there, he can monitor brain signatures, locating anyone on the planet.”
Logan blinked in disbelief. “He has that much power?”
“Cerebro amplifies his mutation,” Jean chimed in. “It’s a brilliant design.”
“Why doesn’t he use that to find Magneto?” Logan inquired, looking from one woman to the other. “Wouldn’t that solve all your problems?”
This time, Cyclops spoke up. “He built a helmet to resist mental probing.”
“How’d he know how to do that?”
Storm touched his arm. “Think, Logan. That room is made of metal. He helped Charles build it.”
Wolverine jammed his fingers into his eyeballs. “Great. Just fucking great.”
No one bothered to respond, but Logan felt Storm’s fingers brush his hand gently. That simple touch, one that he felt could never cause pain, demanded a return. He swept his fingers over hers, dropping his other hand to meet the impossible depths of her eyes. She held his gaze without fear, curiosity reflecting from deep ebony once more.
Her head tilted slightly in her slow study of him. He saw her eyes dart over his features, as though truly looking at him for the first time. Her lips curved into a sensual pout, confusion clouding those brilliant eyes. Logan could not look away, no matter how his instinct told him to run from this gorgeous woman. What was it about her that made a man stop and just stare?
Logan scented anger in the air and judged from the direction it wafted from that Scooter was none too happy about the extended eye-lock between Storm and Wolverine.
Wasn’t that just too damn bad?
The Professor reappeared a moment later, tearing Logan’s attention from the goddess before him. He did, however, catch her sharply exhaled breath and a gasp of air. She’d been holding her breath. That thought almost made a smile creep across Logan’s face.
“She’s at the train station.”
“Where is it?” Logan demanded.
“Two miles north,” Jean answered absently.
At the doctor’s words, Logan immediately turned to leave. Storm’s eyes followed him.
“Logan. Stop,” Charles commanded gently. “Magneto is still out there.”
He turned sharply, ignoring Storm as best he could. “I’m the reason she took off.”
“Its all right,” Storm interjected. “She’s just upset.”
“Storm, Cyclops, go get her.” The Professor commanded. Cyclops nodded and, to Logan’s great surprise, actually gave Wolverine a reassuring smile.
Storm moved to follow her friend, but paused long enough to meet Wolverine’s eyes once more. She curved her lips into a similar smile, something bubbling in that dark gaze.
“We’ll bring her back. Don’t worry.”
She rushed off after her friend, leaving Logan with the Professor and the doctor. He couldn’t just sit around while Storm and Cyclops went after Rogue. Hell, what would they say to a scared girl? They wouldn’t have the first clue what to say. Sure, maybe they handled kids on a regular basis, but Rogue wasn’t a normal kid.
He knew the need to run when things looked grim. Did she think someone was out to hurt her? Or that her new home was in jeopardy this time? From what Jean told him, Marie’s parents ran her off for being born different. That required a special touch.
Pretending to storm off in a huff, Logan stomped down the hall and into the elevator. Careful to keep up his angry thoughts, he pulled the jacket on and moved toward the garage. From the dime tour Xavier gave him the day before, he remembered a vast amount of cars awaiting a driver. Surely, someone trusting might have left the keys lying around.
He closed the door quietly and stepped inside, looking through the cars quickly. Spotting a cherry red Mustang and midnight blue Mazda, he moved through them, searching for something a little more his style.
The motorcycle was an obvious choice, so he jumped on. The keys were waiting in the ignition and Logan roared the bike to life.
“Oh, yeah. Hell, this is a bike.”
With no memory of how he knew, he operated the controls quickly, easing the bike out of the garage and onto the street. The garage door closed some distance behind him, but Logan never looked back. He could find the kid by scent. Maybe he’d get her to come back to the relative safety of Xavier’s mansion.
He never stopped to contemplate why that was so important.
~**~
Scott swore the entire five-minute drive to the train station, several of his epithets sending Ororo’s eyebrows into her hairline. Cyclops rarely swore, but when he did it was with flair and extended vocabulary.
She’d changed into leather pants and a white top for the trip, wanting to blend into the crowd. A young woman wearing a sundress in October might draw a few strange glances. Her leather coat was too long, but it kept up the illusion that she needed to be warm.
“He took my goddamn bike.” Scott spat angrily as they stepped out of her car. “I told you, he can’t be trusted. The Professor is going to peel his mind like an onion for this.”
“Wishful thinking?” Ororo quipped, closing the car door.
He glared at her from behind his visor. “Funny. This isn’t a joke. Magneto could have him by now!”
“Shh!” Ororo hissed, grabbing his arm to quiet her friend. “Lets just find Rogue and get home. Hopefully he hasn’t gone far.”
“I don’t care what happens to him,” Cyclops responded, shoving the station’s door open. “I only care about what Magneto can do with him.”
Ororo pulled up short, turning to glare at her beloved friend. “Such dismissal is unworthy of you, Cyclops.”
Like a chastised child, Scott closed his mouth, nodding miserably. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.”
His companion sighed, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. “You shouldn’t even think it. You look around, I’ll check with the ticket agent. With your foul mouth, I don’t want you to risk starting a riot.”
“Ha-freaking-ha.” He called after her.
Storm picked her way through the crowd, moving toward the ticket agent as fast as she could while searching the vicinity for her young charge. Seeing no one close to her description, Ororo continued on. The agent rolled his eyes when she approached, but a quick interjection of the line ensured she was next.
Worry tickled at her heart, trying to tap into the mutation she’d been born with. If she lost control of that emotion, the skies would darken with thick, milky fog. That, of course, would not help the search at all. No, she had to control herself.
But Storm knew her enemy. Magneto cared nothing for human lives, seeing the un-mutated as nothing more than chattel. The Professor might not be willing to submit to open combat; she was not so sure about their former friend. Erik Lensherr had the tenacity of a rabid dog and the means to achieve whatever ends he designed.
Though the X-Men trained for years, their mettle had not yet been tested. Ororo feared that test might come swiftly, like a summer storm. She hated to think that one of her own could fall in battle or that they might be forced to kill for their ideals.
She promised herself, so many years ago, that she would never take another human life. If she continued on this path, could she keep that promise?
“Hello,” Ororo greeted the ticket agent. “I’m looking for a student from Xavier’s School.”
“Ah,” the older man nodded. “What’s she look like, honey?”
“She’s fifteen. About my height,” Storm informed him quickly. “Brown hair, hazel eyes, quite slender and skittish.”
Footsteps behind her and the menacing presence turned her before she could finish. Ororo felt her eyes widen with surprise, with fear as Sabertooth approached her. The civilians moved back slowly, as though terrified that any sudden movement might take the blonde beast’s attention from her to them.
Before she could summon the strength to resist, the much-larger mutant wrapped one massive, clawed hand about her throat. Ororo felt her flesh burn as those razor-sharp claws tore her flesh apart. The warmth of her own blood trickled down her neck as Sabertooth brought her closer.
“Scream for me,” he whispered in a feral growl.
He might be likened to Wolverine, she thought dazedly, but Logan never put this kind of fear into her. Sabertooth shoved her back with one hand, her feet dangling off of the floor. The glass behind her cracked, the impact making her head swim unpleasantly.
With her voice stolen, Ororo turned her thoughts inward to call for help.
SCOTT!
The cry echoed in their mental link, bringing both Jean and the Professor into it. She felt Scott move, but before he could reach her a powerful beam of red light destroyed the roof of the train station.
Ororo knew in that instant, that Cyclops must be blind. His optic beams were not controllable when released from the ruby-lenses of his visor or glasses. Someone “ and she had a sneaking suspicion of whom “ took his protective lenses. Unfortunately, Storm was on her own for the moment.
Drawing on her mutation, Ororo called down lightning. Her eyes stung as they transformed from deep cocoa to blinding white. Static electricity crackled through the air, making hair stick up all over Sabertooth’s body. He squeezed her throat, the lack of oxygen clouded her vision, so she concentrated on the body holding her immobile. If she got this right, just perfect, no innocent bystander would be injured.
With a deafening crack thunder preceded lightning. The immense bolt of pure energy charged through the air, splitting Sabertooth apart from his captive. Ororo fell to the floor, clutching at her neck and rolling onto her back. Gasping for air, she once again called into their mental link.
Scott? Scott, are you hurt?
I’m blind! He called back. I can’t see anyone. I don’t know where I am.
Storm took one more breath. Don’t move. Keep your eyes closed. I’m coming.
She heaved her weak body to her feet, stumbling as she blinked dust and smoke from her eyes. Her clothing bore a burnt streak from the lightning. Storm silently thanked her mutation for the second time today, simply because her system could withstand a lightning strike like a metallic rod.
Debris had fallen everywhere, but there were very few casualties. She ushered many of the injured to leave, the croak of her voice audible. Her neck ached and the gush of blood told her the injury might be worse than she expected. Before she could submit to panic, she had to find Cyclops.
Looking up, Storm noted the decimated roof with an inward sigh. Scott lay beneath the wreckage, his eyes closed tightly. Storm rushed to his side, checking for injuries. Where were Wolverine and Rogue?
“Scott? I’m here, I’m right here.” Storm soothed, cradling his head in her lap.
Cyclops reached up, taking her biceps in his hands. He clung to her, trusting his friend to be his eyes and protector. Ororo held him closely, looking about for any sign of their missing comrades.
“Someone took my visor. I couldn’t get to you,” Scott explained quickly. “You ok? All I saw was Sabertooth holding you by the throat.”
“I’m fine,” she answered, not bothering to explain the injuries. It would be better if he didn’t know. For now.
“You’re hurt,” Cyclops insisted. “I know you, Ororo. You’re hurt. Where’s Wolverine?”
Be still.
The quiet command of their mentor silenced both.
We have a situation outside, Jean explained patiently. I’m not sure where Wolverine is, but he’s unconscious.
Rogue? Scott asked.
Magneto has her, Jean went on. But there are a dozen police out here. Magneto is threatening to kill them all.
“We have to stop him.” Scott attempted to stand, stumbling blindly.
You can’t…Storm? Jean paused and Scott halted. Talk to me, pumpkin.
I am dizzy, Ororo replied weakly. Scott is right. I am injured.
“Shit,” Scott reached for her, clumsy with his lack of sight. “Hold on, honey. The Professor will get everything under control.”
She sat back on her rear end, her head spinning. Ororo put her hand to the wound on her neck, trying to stop the bleeding as Cyclops continued monitoring the situation with Jean. She tuned them both out, concentrating on her own body. Now that the innocents were out of harm’s way, she could relax, if only for a moment.
Running footsteps barely registered in her weakened state, nearly covered by the thwap thump of a helicopter approaching. It was not until she felt two strong arms envelope her that Ororo realized she was drifting into unconsciousness.
“Storm?”
She blinked heavy eyes. “Huh?”
“Logan?” Scott whipped around. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” the gruff mutant replied. He shrugged out of his coat, took the flannel shirt from his chest and pushed it onto Ororo’s neck. “Wheels said Magneto’s out there.”
“With a dozen cops.” Cyclops responded. To her whirling brain, the words were slurred and slow.
“Storm? Stay awake,” Logan commanded sharply.
“What’s happening?” Scott demanded, fear evident in his voice. “What’d that asshole do to her?”
“He sliced her a little,” Logan shot back. “Why weren’t you helping her, you jackass?”
“He’s blind,” Ororo offered gently. “Took his visor.”
Logan looked up to Cyclops, surprise on his features when he realized the man’s eyes were squeezed closed. He glanced to the roof and Ororo could almost see the proverbial tumblers clicking into place.
“Oh.”
“Is she all right?” Cyclops questioned in a kinder tone.
“Yeah. Got a minor head wound, that’s making her sleepy.” Logan explained quickly. “The cuts on her throat are from claws, but he missed anything major. She’ll be fine with some bandages and pain meds.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Thanks.” Scott said bitterly.
“No problem.” Logan turned his attention back to Ororo. “Stay awake, darlin’. Professor’ll give the all-clear in a minute.”
Storm nodded. “Rogue?”
Come out now, Jean said sadly into all three minds. There’s nothing more we can do here.
