Chapter Three: Dangerous Wilds
I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine
Destroy the man who lacks a strong mind
Human pride sings a vengeful song
Inspired by the times you've been walked on
~Creed
Half a mile of dense, almost impenetrable wood separated the Gates home from the Munroe cottage. With the light dying in the expansive valley, shadows were cast with sudden malevolence through a usually peaceful land.
The only sound besides heavy, angry breathing was the thump of blood in Logan’s ears. He tore through the woods, leaping over fallen logs, changing direction with speed borne of preternatural instincts and the cold shock of fear.
Kenny Gates could handle himself, especially armed with his beloved shotgun. Out here in the Alaskan wild, one needed such measures to protect home and family. Bears, wolves, and moose were too common to remain unarmed. Mary, Ken, and their boys grew up here, they knew the risks. But that didn’t mean Logan wasn’t going to rip heads off if something managed to hurt them.
In twenty years, Mary and Ken never left Ororo and Logan’s sides. Summers were spent grilling in backyards, swimming in the lake, watching their children grow up. Winters, while rough in the North, carried memories of Christmases and snowball fights. Very little in his life with ‘Ro was lived apart from the Gateses.
Family, he thought as he vaulted over another log. They were family. Hearing that slight change in Ken’s voice, knowing that his friend was likely unarmed on the back porch, made the fear and rage pump into his primal system with the subtlety of a cannon blast. Nothing should frighten Ken, not when he had his own family to protect.
Bursting out of the tree line, Logan stopped quickly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Animalistic eyes searched the warm, friendly home as nostrils worked quickly to detect varying scents. He caught the kids, Mary, Ken and his own family lingering on the grounds, mingled with Mary’s famous peanut-oil fries sizzling inside. Ears tuned in for anything out of place, Logan distinguished his wife’s best friend inside, ordering the younger kids into the bedrooms while Ken readied a shotgun on the other side of the porch.
Sniffing again, Logan caught a vaguely familiar scent. Something about the acidic odor brought long-forgotten shivers. He knew that smell. It was a person. Someone was lurking in the woods surrounding Mary and Ken’s home. Instinct told him the scent was fresh, too fresh for comfort.
“Ken?”
The click of ammo stopped immediately, followed by footsteps on aging wood. Fire-red hair stood out like a beacon in the twilight and Logan rushed to his friend. Ken’s face was paler than normal, his deep blue eyes wild.
“Saw someone in the woods,” he explained. “Dunno why, but it got my back up.”
“I caught a scent.” Logan replied, jerking his head toward the woods. “Your boys armed?”
“To the teeth.” Ken nodded, readying his shotgun for firing. “Gabe, Mike, and Tim anyway. They’ll stay with Mary.”
“Come on.”
With Logan leading, both men jogged to the tree line silently. The mutant once called Wolverine crouched, picking up the scent before ducking into the woods. It was a woman, he thought now with hazy memory. Women always gave off a slightly feminine scent beneath whatever their unique aroma happened to be.
Following the winding path through dark forest, Logan kept his nose to the ground. An owl hooted, rabbits scurried through underbrush, a far-off wolf howled. Darkness thickened as even the moon was blocked out, so Logan kept Kenny’s position close to his. Though the night was easy to see through with his enhanced senses, he didn’t want his friend to break a leg or something.
“Tracks,” Logan muttered as they reached a cramped clearing. “Small. Woman’s feet. Looks about 150 in weight, limp on the right.”
“You’re so creepy when you do that,” Kenny’s amused tone was slightly marred by worry. “How long gone?”
“Minutes, at most.” Sighing, Logan stood from his crouch. “Where the fuck have I smelled her before?”
“Dunno, man, but its too much ground to cover in the dark and by light, she’ll be long gone.”
Grunting his agreement, Logan took another look around the clearing. Remnants of a fire were visible on one side, along with several more tracks. Someone made camp here, recently. Usually the woods had several during the summer months, but never this far in and rarely on private property. Few things weren’t tolerated in Alaska and encroaching on privacy happened to be one of them.
Unnerved, Logan indicated to the faint light behind them, the beacon provided by Mary and Ken’s comfortable house.
“Lets head back.”
Leading the way again, the duo picked a path out of the woods at a careful crawl. Logan’s skin was screaming with discomfort, the idea that he was missing an important piece of the puzzle worrying him to distraction. Ken tripped on the underbrush and Logan stretched out a hand absently to keep him from falling.
Something in that scent was irritating him to no end. It churned his stomach, brought the taste of something foul to the back of his throat. And damn it, something about this entire affair had his usually steady hands trembling.
The Wolverine’s hands didn’t tremble. They hadn’t since…
Logan pulled up short, causing Kenny to run right into his back. Fear, stark and terrible, slipped through Logan’s body until he shook with it.
“Lo? You ok?”
Ken’s voice was distant, as far off as the howl of a wolf. Logan’s eyes closed, a million horrible memories slamming through his fractured mind. God, how long had he fought these flashes? Had he not suffered enough?
He knew that smell now. Memories of a rain-slicked New York street, of Ororo’s body flying backward into a wall, of drugs, vans, and pain came rushing back. Logan swallowed over the lump in his throat, senses linking to memory until he could place the scent that so mocked him.
“Vertigo.”
Ken grabbed his arm. “What? Wait, what?”
Trying to shake the memories from his mind, Logan cleared his dry throat. He was past that, he told himself sternly. The violation and pain were part of a past better left alone. It took years to battle the demons following his kidnapping, decades to truly come to terms with it.
Sinister. Logan fought for control as Ken’s worried voice attempted to break through the memory. Sinister was dead. Of course he was dead, Logan, Betsy Worthington, and Ororo killed him with the ruthlessness of victims. They watched his body burn. Sinister was dead, there could be no way for him to return.
But, Logan thought with panic fluttering in his chest, they’d never found his cohorts. Vertigo. Arclight. Prism. No matter how the X-Men searched, those three escaped justice. He’d made his peace with it, put it behind him.
“Ken.” Logan swallowed thickly, needing his wife more than anything. “Go inside. Call ‘Ro. Have her bring the kids here.”
“Logan?”
“You need firewood,” was all the response his friend needed.
After slapping him heartily on the shoulder, Ken jogged through the last few yards of woods before rushing toward his home.
Snikt! It was so rare now that he released his claws in anger, the sound seemed to echo in the still woods. A cry of rage left Logan’s lips, one that sent owls into flight and surely scared off bears for miles.
He fell onto wooden foes, drowning out the memories as he waited for his wife.
~**~
Ororo was cleaning up their mess from dinner, wondering where Logan had gone off to. Henry relayed that Ken Gates called, so she assumed he’d either gone over there or was outside on the phone.
After wiping the counter down, Ororo rinsed the cleaning rag and draped it over the sink’s partition to dry. Chores for the day finished, she dried her hands on her trousers and opened the back door to allow the dogs outside.
James was finishing up homework at the dinner table while munching on apple slices. Henry had passed out on the sofa, one arm dangling on the carpet. Ororo smiled at him, coming around the couch to tuck his arm back into place and cover him with a blanket. In a little while, she would wake him, send him to his bed.
Insuring James didn’t need her for a moment since her Mom mode set to “Check on everyone”, she ducked into the hall. Once, that need sent her from bed to crib at two in the morning, just to put a hand on an infant’s back. That impulse never really left, the need to insure her children were breathing. Now, however, she channeled it into checking on them.
Jean was sprawled on her bed, a phone to her ear as she giggled at whomever was on the other line. Her feet were flattened on the headboard, her head upside down over the side. Glancing at the state of her daughter’s bedroom, which looked like a hurricane hit, she checked her watch and diplomatically cleared her throat.
Blue eyes met blue and Jean sighed. “Five more minutes, Mama?”
Ororo shook her head. “Time’s up. Say goodbye.”
Her daughter sighed into the receiver. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Warden’s here. Yeah. Yeah. I’ll wear it. Bye.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Ororo bore her eyes into her daughter as she cradled the receiver. “Warden? Need I remind you that you’re grounded and could easily have phone privileges removed as well?”
Jean ducked her head, an embarrassed flush covering her dark cheeks. “Sorry, Mama.”
With a little toss of her head, Ororo moved on. “Clean this mess up and feed the dogs.”
“Ok, Mama.”
“Good girl.” She paused before moving out of the room. “How long have you been on the phone?”
Her daughter was in the process of picking up discarded clothing when she looked to the Hello, Kitty clock on her dresser. “Um. An hour?”
Ororo hummed. “Did your father call?”
“No,” Jean met her mother’s eyes, concerned. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t think so,” she tried to smile. “I think he went over to Ken and Mary’s. Was that Tim on the phone?”
Though she blushed harder, Jean shook her head. “Nah, he’s banned from the phone, or so Micah told me.”
“All right. Clean up and feed the dogs.”
“Got it.”
Closing Jean’s bedroom door, Ororo moved swiftly into her bedroom. While it wasn’t odd for Logan to pop over to Ken’s without telling her, he always called. Worrying her wedding band with her thumb, Ororo sighed. He likely lost track of time, a habit with her beloved husband.
Telling herself she was worried for nothing, she scooped up her own laundry and swept back into the living room. Logan is fine, she told herself stubbornly, and you’re turning into a worrywart, Ororo.
Dumping the laundry into the washer in the garage, Ororo called for the dogs as she started a load. Eeyore bounced goofily up to her, while Tigger trotted sedately. Both of her “other babies” were scratched and petted for several minutes while their mistress enjoyed the soft, cool breeze and precious darkness.
Inside, the phone rang.
“Mom? It’s Miss Mary.”
Worried now, Ororo stepped quickly into the house. James held the cordless receiver over his head, eyes never leaving his math homework.
“’Roro?” There was a hitch in her bubbly friend’s voice. “You need to come over.”
“Mary?” Her hand tightened on the phone. “What is it?”
“Ken saw something in the woods,” Mary explained quietly. Ororo could hear her inhale and exhale as she smoked. Mary quit the habit five years ago. If she took it back up…
“Logan came over to check it out. I don’t have all the details, but Logan’s cutting us firewood and Ken told me to tell you bring the kids over.”
Cutting Firewood was the term they all used early in their marriages whenever Logan went into a rage and took it out on innocent pines. Her darling husband still had his temper, even if it simmered rather than violently boiled as he mellowed with age.
If something sent him into that kind of rage when even Jean and Tim lip-locking hadn’t, there was trouble. Plain and simple.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Ok, honey,” Mary sighed. “Coffee’s on.”
Ororo clicked the phone off; pleased to see James had his shoes on already and was rousing Hank from his sofa-slumber. That boy was a gem, a true gem.
~**~
“Stella! Stella, you come back here!”
Girlish giggles were the only response as Katherine Rasputin bolted after her very naked, very wet daughter. The two-year-old darted down hallways with speed her mother could never duplicate, leaving a trail of bathwater on the polished hardwood floors of the mansion.
“Stella!” Kitty flew around a corner, raising her voice even further. “PIOTR! Kevin! Help me, damn it!”
She glimpsed a little dark head tear into the Professor’s office, her baby laughter mingling with the aging Charles Xavier’s. Kitty sighed, phasing through the wall to stand in her friend’s office. Hands planted on her hips, clothing dripping on the carpeting, she glared at her naked child as she climbed into Charles’ lap.
At seventy, Xavier was as robust and handsome as he had been at fifty. Warm blue eyes nearly twinkled as he greeted the little ones his X-Men bore. One after the other, he now counted six as his grandchildren, with one more on the way. They all, as if by popular vote, referred to him as “Papa”.
Kitty knew he loved every blessed second of it.
“Stella Rasputin.” Kitty exhaled sharply. “Get your wet butt over here.”
“Mama. Hi, my mama.” Stella said with her toddler’s lisp, tiny arms wound around her Papa’s neck. “Found Papa. I found Papa!”
“Why, yes, you did,” Charles said, giving Kitty a grin that she could have throttled him for. “But it seems to me that your mother would prefer you with clothes on.”
Stella leaned up, kissing Charles’ cheek with the exuberance and unabashed affection of youth. Kitty felt her heart melt and fought to keep the scowl upon her face. Stella was a precocious child, one that vehemently despised to be bathed or clothed. She much preferred unreserved nudity with a bit of dirt thrown in for flavor. Kitty often thought her daughter was entirely too much like her mother.
“Mom?” Sturdy ten-year-old Kevin poked his head into the room. He grinned, looking so much like his father that Kitty’s heart ached. “Oh, hey, Papa. I heard Mom yelling and figured Stella was naked again.”
Charles had the grace to attempt covering a laugh with a coughing fit. Kitty glowered at him, fighting the smile tugging at her lips.
“Kev!” Stella abandoned Papa in favor of her big brother. She bolted on chubby little legs into Kevin’s arms. “I found Papa! Carry me!”
A good sport when dealing with the baby sister he’d begged for, Kevin scooped her up and took the towel from his mother with a grin. “Ok, Stell, lets get clothes on and then we can go read with Connor.”
“CONNOR!”
Excited by this, Stella clapped and hollered her delight. She spared neither mother nor Papa a glance as Kevin bounced his little sister out of the room. Kitty collapsed into a nearby chair, wondering where her energy went.
“If I live to see her graduate, I’ll be shocked,” she observed with a slight smile.
“Ah, children,” Charles chuckled, looking at his sopping suit in amusement. “She is a darling, Kitty and you know it.”
The younger mutant sighed, looking over at him with her head back against the sofa. She adored Charles and had since their first meeting a million years ago. He gave her away at her wedding, held her hand when she was in labor with Kevin while Piotr led the team on a mission. Little in her life did not come back to their beloved benefactor.
Her children knew him as their grandfather, a kindly old man who would sneak them sweets before dinner and kiss scraped knees. Kitty knew his ruthless side, as a mutant who fought the never-ending battle for peace. No matter which facet they knew best, it was common knowledge that Charles kept the monsters from under their beds.
She and Piotr were married just twelve years, living their lives wrapped up in the X-Men. Oh, they contemplated giving it up as Storm and Wolverine had, but decided against it. The Rasputins were too comfortable here in Westchester, in the mansion where they made their home. Neither of them could imagine being anywhere else, raising their children in any other place.
Of the X-Men Kitty grew up with, only five remained. Herself, Piotr, Warren and Betsy Worthington, and Bobby and Ali Drake. The former mutant Marie, once called Rogue, drifted away just after Logan and Ororo left for Alaska. Though she kept in contact with Kitty, she was killed in a car accident just eight years ago.
While Kitty mourned for her friend, it was accepted that none were close with her any longer. Rogue drifted away long before her death and that hurt more than anything.
Warren and Betsy had mutant rights in their veins and led the team as an accomplished duo. While Kitty and Pete, even Bobby and Ali took missions, it was widely understood that the Worthingtons were in control. They lived, breathed Xavier’s dream. Kitty assumed they would until the end of time.
Bobby and Ali were quirky, a little insane and completely goofy. They married late, finding each other when everyone else thought they’d never give into the attraction coming off of the pair in waves. Now married under ten years, they had one child “ the boisterous, adventurous Connor “ and another boy on the way. Ali used to tell Kitty parenthood terrified her. But pregnancy, motherhood came easily to the musician.
As if hearing her name, Ali stepped through Xavier’s open door. Her blonde hair was longer now, curling around her chin in a soft bob. She still wore her trademark t-shirts and frayed jeans, even as her middle began to swell with child once more.
“Ha, I just saw a naked Stella,” Ali teased as she came fully into the room. “Give you a chase, Mom?”
Kitty groaned. “I should ship her to a nudist colony.”
“She’d be right at home,” Ali agreed sagely.
Putting her hands to her belly, Dazzler sauntered up to Xavier’s desk and perched on it. At thirty, Alison Drake was still a badass. She could kick ass and take names, but Lord knew, she turned into one giant mush ball when it came to her family.
The fast friendship Kitty and Ali formed all those years ago in Alaska only cemented with time. Kitty felt she could tell Ali anything and cheerfully returned the favor.
“So, I just got off the phone with Hank,” Ali told her friend and mentor quietly. “Said his private files were hacked into last night.”
Alert immediately, Kitty forgot fatigue and sat up straight. Charles looked thoughtfully between both women. “Go on.” His voice was gentle, but the command was apparent.
“Someone downloaded everything on Storm and Wolverine they could get their hands on. He wasn’t specific, but I got the feeling it had to do with…Sinister.”
A foreboding chill traversed the length of Kitty’s spine at a slow, terrifying creep. “Sinister?”
Ali nodded. “He wanted us to be on our guard. He’s calling Alaska as we speak.”
Kitty shot her gaze to Xavier, knowing the pensive, worried furrow to his brow intimately. One did not spend forty years in the company of this powerful telepath without knowing how to read him like an open book.
Though she perched casually on the desk, Kitty could see the same mirrored in Ali. Her hands smoothed soothingly over her unborn child, but there was tension there, a slight tremble.
“We should call the X-Men in,” Kitty decided. “Are Warren and Bets back?”
“Yeah, they’re in the kitchen.”
“Send the children to bed,” Charles ordered as he rolled his wheelchair around the desk. “Gather the others.”
Kitty nodded quickly, standing to cross to the security panel on the office wall. As she had a hundred times before and would a hundred times more, Kitty activated the intercom.
“X-Men to the War Room.”
~**~
When Ororo’s Land Rover pulled to a stop in front of the Gates home, her three teens tumbled out of it quickly. Shouting for the boys that were more cousins than friends, they bolted into the house while their mother took stock of the situation.
She cut the engine and the lights, slipping out of the SUV. Glancing about, she found evidence of Logan’s rampage and followed it without thought. Splintered wood littered the rocky dirt path leading into the woods. Faint snarls and the slice of metal against wood gave away her husband’s location even in the dark.
Ignoring her friends and children, Ororo sprinted into the tree line. “Logan?”
“Darlin’.”
He stood only a few yards from the entrance of the wood, his hands fisting and unclenching with those lethal claws extended. Sweating, breathing hard from the exertion, he stilled to allow her closer. Ororo threw her arms around the man she loved, soothing him in quiet whispers.
Claws snapped back into their home beneath Logan’s skin as his arms wound around her almost gratefully. She slipped a hand into his hair, flattening her palm against his skull to hold him in place. Her head tilted, giving him access to her scent while her skin buzzed and hummed him into solace.
“Jesus.” He whispered, inhaling deeply. “Still gets me every time.”
“She buzzes,” Ororo quoted from a night long ago. “Like it.”
Proud to make him smile, feeling the curve of his mouth against her throat, she pulled away to kiss his lips. His obsidian eyes held a hint of the ferocity ready to break free, swirling with the fear she didn’t know how to take away. Keeping him close, recalling those awful nights when nightmares tore him from the pleasant dreams, Ororo pressed her body completely into his.
“’Ro,” he choked on emotion, knowing he could never hide from her. “I think we have a problem.”
She maintained her composure by gripping it with her fingertips. “Come inside. We’ll work it out.”
Fifteen minutes later, the teenagers were all upstairs in Gabe’s bedroom with a set of movies and orders to behave themselves. Of course, the kids thought it was fantastic to have a mass sleep over on a school night, even if Jean rolled her eyes at Logan’s stern order to his sons to watch her like a hawk.
Mary brought the adults coffee as they assembled in the living room. Ororo enjoyed Mary and Ken’s home. It was slapdash, much like the couple that owned it. Nothing ever matched, which was less a conscious decision on their parts and more an extension of how they saw the world. The couple loved furniture and didn’t give a crap what should go where.
Instead of looking shabby, the entire house seemed to have a comfortable, lived in vibe. There was a soft, squashy, coffee-colored sofa beside a darker love seat. Both pieces were selected for comfort, not style. The coffee table was of a rich mahogany that bore the stress of five boys in scars and nicks, a place where feet were welcomed after a rough day.
It should have clashed with the maple end tables, but looked oddly fitting. Of course, in a house filled with men, there was an enormously shiny television, every gaming system known to mankind and a stereo that could reach the level of “Make your ears bleed”.
Settling on the love seat beside her husband, Ororo took her coffee and sipped slowly. Cheers of children wafted down the stairs, making her smile. Whatever gory action film they’d selected was obviously a hit.
She waited patiently while Ken and Logan filled their wives in on the events in the woods. Logan’s voice was quiet, with the hint of a growl that betrayed his concern. She glanced to Mary at the admission that Vertigo was mere yards from her home, not surprised to see anger and fear in those deep eyes.
When the men fell silent, Ororo and Mary locked gazes in that curious manner of holding a silent conversation. They agreed, without speaking, to a course of action.
“All right,” Mary said sternly. “The first order of business is to alert the Sheriff. I want those woods searched.”
“Mare…”
She held up a delicate, porcelain hand. “Shut up, Ken. I don’t care if they won’t find her. I want them searched.”
“I will contact the X-Men,” Ororo continued. “If Vertigo has been on the move, perhaps they can dig something up. If nothing else, perhaps Hank can use his contacts at the U.N.”
Both men glanced at each other, sharing a look that spoke volumes of “Women!” Ororo snorted into her coffee cup while Mary thumped the back of her husband’s head playfully.
“How much do we tell the kids?”
At Ken’s question, Ororo paled. Her children knew very little of the kidnappings that sent their father to their mother, sparking a chain reaction that led to a quiet, Alaskan life and the birth of three children. They knew their mother was barren and had used surrogates to have her babies, but the why was never questioned.
Logan’s eyes met hers and she had to fight back a sob. She didn’t want them to know, yet, what horrors the world could contain. She sheltered her children selfishly against hate and horror as they holed up in the wilds of Alaska. It was a decision the couple made together.
“Nothing,” Logan answered Ken without taking his eyes from Ororo. “Nothin’ yet.”
Mary and Ken nodded almost immediately. “I agree.” Ken answered.
“But, I think its wise if we rotate them for a while,” Mary said with a sigh. “Spring break’s coming up, we could send them all to New York. The boys have been begging.”
Ororo shot her friend a look, knowing, feeling the acute pain this was causing her. Sending all eight children to New York was a yearly ritual, but the separation was always hard. Usually, they spent a summer month in Westchester with the X-Men, generally running amok. It gave the parents some time alone and the kids a chance to hang with other mutants while Charles played “grandpa”.
Two of the Gates boys were mutants. Gabe could manipulate molecules in a rendition of stopping time. His little brother, Trevor, moved at super-human speed. They, in particular, loved visits to New York, where they could compare mutations and indulge in powers-allowed Dodgeball.
“Might be a plan,” Logan nodded. “We’ll talk to Chuck about it.”
“Until then,” Ororo cut in smoothly. “Be on your guard. If Vertigo has surfaced, God only knows what she wants.”
But, in the secret places of her heart, Ororo knew what Vertigo wanted. She cast her gaze to the ceiling, where boyish laughter and girly giggles drifted through the floorboards. Vertigo was Sinister’s devoted follower and what he wanted was sitting upstairs at this very moment.
The children.
