Forge stayed around for the first few days, telling everyone that he wanted to be sure that Logan didn’t manage to escape somehow. But truth be told, a deep part of himself wanted to see his rival suffering at the hands of his tormentors. And Forge often watched with grim satisfaction as each test was administered, the pain often driving the feral mutant to his knees.
They kept Logan’s healing factor active enough to repair the damage they did on a daily basis and keep him from suffering from heavy metal poisoning because of the adamantium on his bones. But beyond that they were very careful to keep him sedated at every opportunity. Each technician was very familiar with his file and knew very well what he was capable of; no one was willing to take any chances.
At first, when he awoke to find himself in a cell, his hands in adamantium restraints preventing his claws from being released, Logan felt a sense of dread come over him. This was not the worst situation he had ever been in, but it was perhaps the bleakest. It would take every bit of training and wits he had to not only find a way out but simply survive long enough to use it. He had made a promise to Ororo, he would go back to her. But more importantly he’d made a promise to himself; he would get out and he would make Forge pay.
Forge was smart enough to keep in contact with the mansion, telling them simply that it was taking them a bit longer to complete the initial recon necessary to pull everything off without a hitch. The professor in the meantime accepted Forge’s explanations and promised to hold off on the second half of the mission until he heard from Forge on his success.
A few days later, convinced that Logan was docile enough, Forge loaded one of Logan’s clones onto a jeep to take it back to the blackbird. The clone had been killed the previous night, providing him with a solid time line to the story that he had constructed to tell the other X-men. As he took off from the clearing near the base, he spared a final wry smile for the man trapped in its depths. He had no intention of ever seeing the man ever again.
About 20 minutes away from the mansion, he punched in the mansion’s emergency radio code and began the first step of his plan. “Blackbird to base. Blackbird to base, come in base.” He repeated the same message over and over again waiting for a response. It was several moments before anyone came back.
Scott’s voice wafted over the blackbird’s cabin speakers. “We read you blackbird, go ahead.”
Forge smiled slightly, keying in the mic as he went on with his deception. “The mission was a bust, I repeat the mission was a bust. Abort plan B; I’m coming in redlined. I need a med kit and a gurney.”
There was a slight pause from the other end then Scott came back on. “Copy that blackbird.” There was some frenzied shuffling on the other end of the radio and then Scott broke protocol. “What happened Forge?”
Forge shook his head. “I’d rather not say on an open channel; let me land and I’ll tell you everything. Just make sure that damn gurney is there!” He set the mic down and began preparations for landing.
About twenty-five minutes later, the blackbird landed and powered down in the hangar, Forge hurried down the loading ramp. He was met by Scott, Jean and Hank, their arms full of medical equipment.
Scott came up the gangway, pushing Forge out of the way as Jean and Hank came up behind him. “Forge, what the hell happened? Where’s Logan?”
Forge waved at Logan’s clone, watching as Jean and Hank began going over his still body. “Here. I tried to get him stabilized but nothing I tried would work. I decided to head back here.”
“What the hell happened?” Scott’s voice drew his attention.
He took a deep breath. “We went in with him posing as a prisoner so I could get him inside. At first it went well but after a couple of days someone decided to step up the damn project. We decided to get the mutants out last night. We decided he needed to create a diversion so he jumped a couple of guards and started a fight.
He shook his head as Jean and Hank continued working. “But something happened, he just snapped and went into a blind berserker rage. He was killing guards left and right, there was no way I could get to the prisoners. It all happened so fast, there was nothing I could do, they just hit him with the cure and someone shot him with some kind of disrupter; he went down like a lead weight.”
Scott watched as Jean and Hank began CPR and administering medication, trying desperately to get a response. “How the hell did you manage to get him out of there?”
“I yelled at the guards to go check the other prisoners and told them I’d take care of body disposal. Once they’d all left, I high tailed it out of there and hopped on the jet. He’s been unresponsive since he was hit.” Jean and Hank looked at each other and then stepped away.
Scott spoke, already knowing what they would say. “Jean? Hank?”
Jean glanced at Hank, his face lined as he shook his head. Jean turned back to Scott and shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do; he’s dead.”
Scott swallowed stepping forward to embrace her as tears formed in her eyes. He looked at Hank, a new worry suddenly coming to mind. “Where’s Ororo?”
Ororo was just at that moment on a shopping trip for the mansion. She had decided to volunteer to go grocery shopping for the mansion to keep her mind off Logan’s very noticeable absence. She herself had found the passage of time especially grueling to bear. She tried everything she could think of to occupy herself and keep her mind from dwelling on the dark feelings she felt whenever she thought of Logan and the mission.
She worked in her greenhouse until her hands were saturated with the smell of fresh Earth, her nails dirty and cracked. She spent time with Remy and Rogue, shooting pool and just simply talking. She even spent time with Jean going over wedding plans and plans for the nursery. All in all she was going completely out of her mind. The shopping trip that morning had been a godsend, something to take her away from the mansion for a time and keep her occupied. She was just finishing the final bit of it, the SUV packed to the gills as she shut the hatch doors.
Ororo? Jean’s mental voice echoed in her mind.
Ororo chuckled as she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. She and Jean had just spoken a few moments before, reminding Ororo of some minor thing they desperately needed. Ororo was surprised that Jean would contact her mere moments after she had left. I am here my friend.
There was a hesitation to Jean’s reply. Ororo, the professor and I need to see you right away.
She frowned slightly at the hesitation, wondering at the barriers she felt in her friend’s mind. Give me but a moment and I will be there. My hands are a bit full.
We’ll be in Charles’ study. Then Jean was gone.
Ororo frowned slightly as she started the vehicle and headed back to the mansion. Something was bothering Jean a great deal and what that was, Ororo was suddenly afraid to find out.
Nearly an hour later, Ororo stood just outside the medical bay, looking through the windows at the sheet covered gurney that lay inside unable to take the final steps and go inside. She did not want to do it; she did not want to reach up and push the doors open to step inside. Because somehow as long as she did not, it was not real and still could be denied. At that moment she wanted nothing more then to go back to her room and pretend that it never happened. But it had and nothing she could tell herself would change that.
Upon her return, Charles and Jean had drawn her into his study, their faces somber and drawn as they asked her to take a seat. Puzzled at their strange behavior, she sank into a nearby chair. Ororo could feel nothing through their shared link and that bothered her even more than their shuttered expressions. She sat there a moment studying them, feeling a wave of fear sweep over her at the closed expressions on their faces.
That fear only sharpened when Jean sat next to her and took her hand. “Ororo, Forge came back today.”
Ororo smiled, for a moment forgetting how strange it was that they called her there to tell her that news. “They are back? Where is Logan?” She tried to stand but Jean’s tight grip on her hand kept her in her seat. Puzzled, the fear sharpening into a sharp prick in her heart, she looked at her friend.
Jean reached out, taking Ororo’s other hand and squeezing them both tightly. “Ororo, there was an accident; Forge told us that Logan was trying to create a diversion by picking a fight with the guards. He said that someone injected Logan with the cure and then he was hit with a disrupter.” Jean sniffed slightly, her tightly held façade cracking as faint glimmer of grief brushed across Ororo’s mind. “Honey he didn’t make it.”
Ororo blinked, unable to process what Jean said. “What?”
Jean tired again, this time letting more of her control slip so Ororo could feel her grief. “Ororo honey Logan was killed.” Unshed tears glittered in her pain filled green eyes.
Ororo shook her head, still unwilling and unable to believe what she was being told. “That is not possible.” She released Jean’s hands, feeling a wave of anger coming over her to wash away the fear in a fiery blaze.
The professor spoke up from his chair, his tone soothing yet firm. “Ororo…”
She turned her fierce gaze to her beloved mentor and shook her head even more firmly. “No, no he is not dead; he promised me. Forge is wrong, Logan is not dead!” But she felt her resolve breaking as her voice cracked and the first tendril of fear found its way through the anger.
Charles sighed even as Jean squeezed her hands once more. “Ororo, please believe me, I wish he were. But I saw Logan’s body myself; honey it’s him.”
The reality of what they were telling her finally began to penetrate her denial. And she felt her control slipping even as she clutched it to close to her heart. “No, no, no, no, no, no this cannot be happening; he promised me! He promised to come back to me!” From somewhere in another corner of her mind, she marveled at the shrillness of her voice, at the quavering quality she could hear in it.
Charles tried again. “Ororo...”
Ororo shook her head, surging to her feet. “No, I will go down and see for myself; I cannot accept that he is dead, I simply cannot. I must see for myself.” She stormed from the room while the professor and Jean sat there, numb in their own grief. She slammed through the door, knocking it back against the wall hard enough to crack the hinges free. Heading down to the lower levels to prove them wrong.
So there she stood her mind reeling at the shape lying under the sheet. Ororo heard Jean and the professor, their words whispering in her head once more, heard them say that Logan was gone; killed in a government lab while trying to rescue the mutants Forge had told them about. But she could not bring herself to believe. She heard their words, but she could not bring her heart to accept; it was numb, her mind fogged by disbelief. He could not be dead; he was nearly indestructible; he could not be dead. But somehow, he was.
He had promised to be careful, promised to return to her; he had even gone so far as to promise her that everything would be all right in the end. He had no intention of leaving her, ever. But now, somehow his promises were as dead as the man that made them.
She pushed open the doors and stepped through, walking slowly toward the gurney, each step harder and harder to take then the one before it. When she at last reached the gurney she merely stood there looking down at the sheet clad form that lay deathly still on it. Finally, unable to delay an longer, she reached out, her hands trembling and pulled the sheet back. Slowly, Logan’s beloved face came into view.
With a harsh sob, her hands went numb and the sheet fell from them. She sagged against the gurney, her legs giving out. She stood there for several moments feeling the tears sting her eyes as she stared disbelieving at Logan’s gruff face. All the while her mind screamed at the impossibility of it all. He could not be dead, he could not be dead. The litany played over and over again in her mind like a broken record and each time it repeated, it threatened to destroy her sanity.
For several moments she leaned against the gurney, staring at Logan’s pale face, unable to look away, feeling the tears stinging her eyes but refusing to fall. After what seemed an eternity something snapped inside her and she surged to her feet, desperately needing to put some distance between herself and the cold hard truth laying on the gurney before her.
She stormed up through the lower levels of the mansion, suddenly desperate to escape the familiar walls, feeling them press in on her in a way they never had before. She sobbed loudly as she ignored the elevator, instead using her powers to roar up the stairwells to the sub level that held the hangar. With a simple thought, the wind whipped up, blowing the doors open, as she rushed through. Her sobs echoing loudly in the deathly still corridors.
She landed on her feet running, lifting her hands, letting her gift surge violently, the air whipping out in front of her in thick heavy strands to smash against the hangar bay doors. With a resounding bang, they split, the steel bending and peeling as if it were nothing more than soft butter under a knife; she struck out once more and they snapped open, falling against the ground with a resounding bang. She took flight, shooting through the opening like a rocket and into the open sky, leaving the destroyed hangar behind her.
As she climbed into the higher altitudes, the weather rolled around her, responding to her dark and potent emotions. The sky darkened ominously going from brilliant blue to coal black in moments as she struggled to contain the ragged emotions that were beginning to seep through the numbness. Her sobs trailed after her as the rain began to softly fall.
She continued to climb higher, pushing herself to the very limits, feeling the rage of the storm building around her as her control slowly began to unravel. She fought the urge to openly weep as she began to fly away from the mansion. She used her powers to push her body faster and faster, speeding through the sky like never before. The falling rain slashed and stung her face but she pushed on, trying to outrun the pain and rage inside her heart. Around her she could feel the storm keep pace, as she sped north hoping to find a place to vent her pain and grief.
For nearly 3 hours, she flew only vaguely aware of her direction until she was surrounded on all sides by open ocean. The storm swirled and grew around her as in the eye of it all, she gave vent to the rage within. Something inside of her snapped and for the first time since her powers manifested, she gave them free reign, letting go of her control as a wave of anguish swept over her heart.
She wept and the sky wept with her. She raged and the wind, sky and waves raged with her. The rain pelted down in sheets, blowing and pummeling the ocean around her, soaking her to the skin while the wind roared like a hurricane and the waves reached for her in her lofty perch in the sky. Uncaring, she urged the storm around her to a fury never before seen in nature. If she must hurt, if she must feel the grief, the Earth would grieve with her.
And somewhere, her mind drifted back to the first moment she had met him, gruff and rumpled, he had come into the mansion; a lit cigar hanging from his mouth and smart remark to her rolling off his tongue. She took an immediate liking to the blunt and bristly mutant; especially when he began jerking Scott’s chain. As much as she loved Scott, sometimes he was too much of a hard ass for his own good.
Fast on the heels of that memory came another. The first moment she had fought by his side, watching in amazement as he threw himself so thoroughly into the fray; ignoring his own grievous wounds to save a child from a burning building. She remembered being amazed at the reckless disregard he seemed to show for his own life, in spite of his healing factor.
And then came the more recent memories, the moments they had spent exploring their new relationship. Their first self defense session, their rides together as he taught her how to ride his bike. The many times she managed to finagle, finesse or just plain trick him into acting so out of character. Their first kiss, their first date, the first time they made love, outside in the rain after a game of cat and mouse in the woods. The first time they had danced after they began dating, their first camping trip. Everything they had done together was remembered and mourned because she would not be able to do any of it with him again. She wept and raged, screaming her grief to the heavens, letting the memories free as she struggled to come to terms with her loss.
Inside the storm, she lost all sense of time as the memories played over and over again, one after another; until they began repeating like a broken record. She was haunted by the memory of their final goodbye, the feel of his hand upon her cheek, his lips touching hers, so gently that now she wept from it. She should have grabbed him, pulling him tightly against her and begged him not to go. But, she had not because she knew that what he had left to do needed to be done; just as she would not have hesitated to do it in his place.
But all things must end and even nature has its limits. So after a period of time, the storm began to falter as she felt her strength waning. She floated in the sky, drifting gently on the faintest of currents as the storm died down around her. She stared in amazement as the soft blue sky slowly appeared through the thinning clouds. The rain stopped and the oceans calmed as she sank slowly from the sky.
Her descent was gentle and slow, and she watched dispassionately as the ocean drifted closer to her. She found herself unable to care that she did not have the strength to remain aloft much longer. Seven years ago Forge had destroyed her world and she had vowed that he would never hurt her that badly again. But he had wandered back into her life and broken her heart a second time. This time, she simply did not have the strength to pick up the pieces and begin again. nothing mattered any longer.
She looked down just as her toes broke the water; it was cool as it swept over her feet making its way slowly up her leg. She sank lower, both her feet disappearing under the eerily calm surface. She heard a dim roar above her and her numb mind pondered its source. She sank even lower, her head lolling forward as her strength began to fail her. The water now covered her knees. One final tear slid down her cheek as she felt the last of her strength fade away and she began to slip beneath the surface.
“Logan.” She whispered as her head fell back, her eyes rolling back as her vision grayed. Somehow, she found just enough strength to stretch her arm into the sky once more. Then that too failed as she simply let go. She slipped only a few inches further into the water before coming to a sudden stop once more. Dimly, faintly as if from far away, she felt someone’s arms around her even as she slipped into the abyss.
“Ah’ve got ya sugah. Ya just hang on, ‘Ro. Just hang on.”
She smiled sadly as she lost the battle and quietly passed out, while Rogue flew her back to the blackbird, a worried Jean standing at the hangar door.
Ororo jerked awake, ascending from the darkness so fast it made her dizzy. She sat up, looking around herself in surprise. She was inside the medical bay in the depths of the mansion but she had no memory of how she had gotten there. She remembered her flight from the mansion and calling the storm into which she had vented her rage and grief. But then, the memories ended abruptly.
She glanced at the side of the bed, seeing Jean sitting next to her bed, curled up asleep in the chair, her head resting on the back of it. Ororo felt a twinge of guilt at the pain her friend would feel when she awoke, knowing that it was worry over her that had kept her there when she was so obviously dead on her feet. She reached over and touched Jean gently.
Jean jerked awake, her feet hitting the floor as her hand shot out to seize Ororo’s firmly in her own. “Ororo, you’re awake.” She winced slightly as her neck protested its long held contorted position.
Ororo smiled tiredly. “Yes, I am.”
Jean got to her feet slightly, reaching over to check the I.V. She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take Ororo’s pulse. “That was quite a storm you called up. We almost didn’t get to you in time.” She stuck a thermometer in Ororo’s mouth.
Ororo waited until Jean finished taking her temperature before speaking again. “What happened Jean?”
Jean let her hands fall away, meeting Ororo’s gaze firmly. “What do you remember?”
Ororo sighed slightly, resting back against the bed. ”I remember calling the storm. I simply let go and it came. I do not remember much else. How did you find me?”
Jean allowed her a wry smile. “Honey, the storm you created was on every news channel. No one could understand what was happening; it didn’t make any sense to anyone else. We knew right where you were.” She reached out to take Ororo’s hand. “The professor said that your mind simply gave out, that you simply didn’t have the strength to control the storm any longer and it just dissipated. We reached you just as you passed out and fell from the sky.”
Ororo closed her eyes for a moment, newfound guilt coming over her. “Was anyone hurt?”
Jean shook her head. “No, you were far enough out that by the time it reached land, the effects were minimal.”
Ororo reached up to touch her forehead, her eyes closing. “I feel so weak. I have never felt so tired before.” She felt Jean touch her forehead gently.
Jean rearranged the blankets around her, before settling back down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not surprised. I don’t think you’ve ever managed to use your abilities at full strength for over three days before.”
Ororo’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Three days? I was out there for three days? By the Goddess, I could have killed someone Jean. How could I do that? How could I lose control like that and not know for three days?” Her voice became hysterical at the thought of hurting someone else because of a lack of control.
Jean reached out, taking her gently by the shoulders, trying to calm her friend. “Ororo, take it easy. You’ve suffered a terrible loss; you’re entitled to your grief.”
Ororo felt her breath hitch slightly as her throat tightened. “Logan.” Her voice was a bare whisper and her eyes filled with tears. Jean nodded. Ororo looked down at her hands, feeling the tears stinging her eyes. She looked at Jean. “I wish he were here Jean. I wish that he were here chewing me out right this minute for nearly getting myself killed. And I wish that Forge had never come back asking for our help.”
Jean’s eyes filled with tears as well as she sat next to her heartbroken friend. “We all do Ororo, we all do.”
Ororo looked at her hands, thinking of Logan and the promise he had made to her before he left. “He asked me to marry him before he left.”
Jean couldn’t hide her surprise. “He did? You never said anything.”
“He asked me just before he left for the mission.” Ororo said quietly thinking about the velvet box he had pressed into her hand before leaving. It was still sitting on her dresser in her room, waiting for him to return. She had no idea if she could ever look at it ever again.
“And what did you say?”
“I never got the chance to answer him. The professor contacted us before I could tell him yes.” Ororo’s lip quivered slightly as she held in her sobs.
Jean lifted her hand to cover her mouth, tears sliding down her face. “Oh Ororo, I’m so sorry.”
Ororo looked down feeling her breathing hitch as she heard his voice again, asking her to marry him. “I never had the chance to say yes to him; to tell him that I wanted more than anything for him to be my husband, for me to be his wife. Dear Goddess above, what I would give to just have the chance to say that to him.” She broke down, sobbing quietly as Jean embraced her, her own tears falling down her cheeks. Far above them, in the sky over the mansion gentle rain began to fall without a cloud in sight.
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