The cell doors clanged open with a loud clank as two guards dragged Logan into the cell. They dropped him like a load of bricks on the concrete floor and left him lying there. He groaned slightly and rolled over onto his back as the door slammed shut behind the retreating guards. He pushed himself slowly to his feet feeling the ache in his bones and muscles as things slowly began healing deep inside.
He leaned against the simple steel bunk, panting as he tried to get to his feet. They had removed the shackles earlier that day, confident that his subdued healing factor would keep him from attempting anything really foolish. He was playing up that assumption as much as possible. He needed them to forget he was dangerous, to forget that he had lived with pain all his life; his healing factor being subdued would not hinder him in the slightest when he made his escape.
He finally made it to his feet and wobbled over to the sink to splash cold water on his face. He looked at his distorted reflection in the sink basin, feeling his legs tremble as he tried to stay standing. The image slowly blurred and swam as another one took its place. He watched in amazement and with a sense of guilt as Ororo’s face formed in the sink basin.
“’Ro,” he whispered as he reached out to trace his finger over her cheek. The image broke when he touched the surface of the water. He pushed himself away, slowly pacing his cage as the anger filled him. He could feel the beast growing restless inside and begin pacing as well. He felt his lips pull back from his teeth as he let a soft growl free from his chest. His chance would come and when it did, he would take it; the beast would be free to wreck his vengeance.
For the second time in less than a year, the professor found himself having to make a sad announcement to the entire school. An announcement he made only after he pulled Rogue and Jimmy aside and told them privately. The young girl was devastated and Hank was forced to sedate her as well. Jimmy chose to vent his grief in private and disappeared for nearly two days before returning to the mansion. He told no one where he went but the professor had a good idea where he might have gone and let Jimmy be.
Following on the heels of that emotional outburst, Charles informed the student body that they would be holding a memorial service later in the week. In the meantime, the doors of all the teachers and adults at the mansion were open to any student at any hour should they need an ear. There were very few dry eyes in the mansion at the news of the death of the Wolverine.
For the next few days, Ororo was forced to stay in the medical bay and recover her strength. Concerned for both her own welfare and the welfare of those around her, not to mention a sense of guilt she felt at the upheaval her emotions had caused, she allowed Hank to give her a neural sedative. It curbed her ability to control her powers, but it also prevented the weather from reacting to her turbulent and ragged emotions.
It was nearly a week after first hearing the news of Logan’s demise before Ororo managed to find the strength to go back to the room she shared with Logan. Jean, concerned for her friend, had offered to come with her but Ororo had declined; she knew that this was something she had to do, no matter how much pain it might cause her. She needed to face the reality of her life now; she needed to see for herself that it had fundamentally changed.
She stood in the open doorway of the loft for several moments, staring at the room and the scattering of belongings that told her that two very separate people lived there. Her things were neatly stacked, folded or put away. And while Logan had never really been a slob by any stretch of the imagination, he had been a great deal more relaxed about the state of the room then she. His things were scattered throughout their living space, providing a sense of warmth she never realized her room lacked until the first time she had come up to find his jacket draped over the bed.
She stepped into the room, staring at the empty bed that she and Logan shared for what seemed like such a short time. She could feel his presence everywhere in her room. There was his tooth brush and razor in her bathroom, some of the clothes he had tossed on a nearby chair. Even the weathered cowboy boots and hat that he adored were resting on her dresser. She kept expecting the door to open any moment and in he would walk, a brilliant smile on his face, for her. But it did not happen.
She sighed loudly as she grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair. She pressed her face into it breathing deeply, drawing in his scent, fresh tears filling her eyes. She stroked the shirt, staring at it for several moments trying to calm down. With a lump forming in her throat, she slipped the shirt over her head and went to the bed.
On the nightstand was a glass of water and a single pill. Hank told her to take one if she had trouble sleeping. But her long time dislike of drugs was still strong and she resisted the urge to give in to the weakness. Her body would allow her to sleep, eventually. She did not want to become dependent on other means to reach that state.
She climbed into bed, wearing Logan’s shirt, his things scattered around the room and for a moment allowed herself the illusion that the last several days had not happened; that he was simply away on a mission and would be home shortly. The fantasy did not last and shattered after only a few moments. Her mind simply would not allow her the luxury of pretense, no matter how much she might cry out otherwise. Logan was not coming home.
Eventually she would have to do more than face that. Eventually she would have to let him go; eventually she would have to move on with her life. She would have to dispose of his belongings, packing or simply giving them away. Leaving her only with the memories of their together; chilled comfort though it was, she knew that was all that was left her. Soon, very soon she would have to face that.
But not tonight and not anytime soon. There would be time enough for that when she had finished grieving; for the moment she was unable and unwilling to let him go. She snuggled down into the bed, wrapping his shirt around her tighter as Logan’s familiar scent surrounded her.
She tried to relax, to let her mind drift down into sleep, but the calm peaceful state she needed to get there would not come. She turned over and settled back down, dimly aware of a faint noise coming from her window. She felt someone sit on the edge of the bed and knew at once that Remy had snuck into her room.
She turned to look at her brother sitting there, on her bed and felt fresh tears stinging her eyes. He said nothing to her, just simply held out his arms and she threw herself into them, sobbing quietly. He held her for several long moments, rocking her slightly as she sobbed against him.
After a few moments, her sobs quieted and she pulled away from him. She sat up, looking at him through a veil of tears, feeling a strong sense of detachment as she watched him pull out a handkerchief and felt him wipe her face.
“He is gone Remy.” Fresh tears filled her eyes and he continued to gently wipe her face.
“So Remy has heard.” He put the handkerchief in her hand and simply waited for her to go on.
“I loved him so much Remy. Do you think he knew just how much I loved him?” She looked at him, her face stricken and watched his face darken in response to her pain.
“Oui, mon s“ur. Logan would have to have been blind not to see it. And Remy know dat he loved you very much. He must have to let Remy live after all da shit he did.” Remy reached up to touch her face gently, trying to sooth away some of her pain.
“Yes, he did.” She chuckled at the memory, so very recent in both their minds. Then her mind clouded again as she realized that there would be no new memories to take its place once it faded to the background of her mind. “Oh Remy, it hurts so much.” She gave a soft cry, feeling her heart withering in her chest.
He lay down on the bed, holding her tightly against him, rubbing her head; his silent support and love barely easing the pain in her heart. She listened to his gentle breathing, finding strange comfort in its steady repetition. It soothed her and without intending to, she relaxed. Feeling silent tears slip down her cheeks, she drifted down to sleep and in her sleep she dreamt.
She and Logan were having a picnic; something they had not managed to do. The dream was extremely vivid; she could feel all of her senses tingle at the assault of sensations around her. The smell of the air, the sound of the bird, the taste of the fresh peach she had bitten into moments before. But those sensations were quickly pushed aside as she chuckled at a comment Logan made.
“I do not care if the movie was bad Logan, it still brought up several valid social issues.” They were arguing about the plot of a movie that they had seen together just a few nights ago. A rather disappointing feature about cloning and ethics.
He snorted as he handed her a bottle of water. “Such as?”
Ororo shrugged. “How far should we go to save another human being? Should we allow ourselves to be cloned to save our own lives at the expense of the lives of our clones? Do clones have souls?” She used the water to wash the peach down.
Logan laughed as he reclined on the blanket they had spread for their picnic. “I guess I missed all that philosophical stuff because I was too distracted by the lack of believable plot or characters.”
“Be serious Logan.” She nudged him playfully as she lay down facing him.
“I am. Come on ya can’t tell me I was the only one who noticed this was supposed ta be in the future but all the cars were 2004 Magnums. I mean come on, they’ve got flyin’ trains and motorcycles, where were the damned flying cars ta match?”
“I am so glad to know what was important enough to grab your attention during that movie.” She gave him a wry smile, reaching out to entwine her fingers in his.
He chuckled, kissing her hand lightly as he set it on his chest. “Hey, ya gotta have priorities. All though I must admit that it was pretty good how the clone arranged for the original guy’s death.”
She sighed a frown marring her face. “That was rather disturbing.”
“Made me think of somethin’ similar.” He rolled back over to look at him.
She looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean about me and how I died.” His tone was light but there was no smile or levity on his gruff face.
She laughed. “Died? Logan stop joking, you have not died.” She tried to pull away from him, a bit angered at his poor joke. But his hand tightened, not letting her go.
“Yeah I did. Don’t ya remember?” His voice was soft but firm.
This time her anger got the best of her and she jerked her arm free, sitting up, rolling away from him. “Logan if this is your idea of a joke, it is in very poor taste.” She began putting their things away in the picnic basket, her movements jerky and angered.
He rolled over to her, kneeling just behind her. “I ain’t jokin’ ‘Ro. Jean told ya I died nearly a week ago.” He reached out to touch her shoulder.
She whirled on him, jabbing him in the chest sharply. “If that is true than how can I be here talking with you if you are dead?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Yer dreamin’ darlin’. Ya fell asleep in our room and ya started dreamin’.”
She stared at him for several moments feeling the whisper of a painful memory waft across her mind. She pushed it aside vehemently. She refused to believe that what he said could be true. “This cannot be happening. You are not dead; you just left yesterday on a mission with Forge. He has not come back yet so there is no way that she could have told me you were dead.” She turned back to the picnic basket and kept packing.
“Darlin’, he did come back and he told ya I died, ya gotta remember.” He grabbed her shoulders again, his mouth against her ear, his voice soothing but insistent.
Another memory whispered to her and she let the things she had been holding drop from suddenly numb hands. “Why, why do I have to remember that Jean told me you died? Why would you want me to remember something that would utterly devastate me?” She shuddered a bit as the walls in her mind slowly began to break down and the truth began to leak through.
His arms embraced her as he continued talking quietly in her ear. “Because Forge lied ‘Ro, I ain’t dead. I’m still stuck in the God damned lab we broke into.”
She stiffened, trying to turn. But he held her tight. “But…” she thought for several moments as the memories came back to her, a rushing assault of pain and grief. She fought off tears as she whispered. “But I saw your body in the medlab.”
His arms dropped. “It’s not me, its’ a clone.”
Ororo felt her mind racing, she turned to face him, her face filled with desperation. “But the skeleton was grafted with adamantium, just like yours.”
Logan shook his head. “Forge faked it.”
She searched his eyes, desperately wanting to believe everything he told her was not true that she was caught in some crazy dream from which she would awake. But there was only truth and sincerity in his eyes. At seeing that, she felt something snap inside her and she could longer hold the torrent at bay.
She sank to her knees. “Dear Goddess, is this true? Is this really happening?” Her voice was soft, unsure and full of fear.
Logan kneeled next to her, enveloping her in his strong arms. “Yeah it is darlin’. I’m really here, talkin’ to ya now. Ya got to believe me; I’d never leave ya. I promised ya that.”
She pulled away, her eyes earnest as they met his own. “Goddess, how is this possible? I am not telepathic, how can I be speaking with you this way?” She reached up to touch his grizzled cheek, feeling a slight tremor touch her chin as she thought she would never feel it again.
He shook his head, leaning into her hand. “I don’t know darlin’, and I really don’t have time to figure it out. Ya gotta get down here and pull my ass outta this hell hole.”
She shook her head, pulling her mind back to the problem at hand. “How will I explain this to the others?”
“If ya think they’ll listen then try. But don’t take too long; they’re killin’ me here. Try Jeannie first, she might be more apt to believe this shit but don’t even bother with Scooter; he’s way too much of a tight ass to believe this is even possible.” Ororo chuckled. His voice softened and he reached up to caress her face with his large callused hand. “And darlin’, just remember that I love ya and I never wanted to leave ya.” He kissed her lips, his touch soft and gentle.
She sank into that kiss, wishing it to never end. But it did, rather abruptly as the dream suddenly ended and she snapped awake. Ororo opened her eyes, expecting to see Logan’s face in front of her, still feel his lips pressed against her own. Her hand met empty air and she jerked fully awake, sitting up quickly. The room was empty, she was alone.
She sighed loudly, feeling the remnants of the dream lingering as she felt fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Logan, what is going on?”
Later that day, she stood in her room once more, staring out the window that overlooked the mansion grounds, her mind racing, her body numb. She had tried to tell Jean about the dream, had in fact managed to get out the entire story in just a few sentences. But Jean had been hesitant to believe her. In fact, she refused to listen any further and told Ororo that perhaps it would be a good idea if she spoke with Hank about something to help her sleep.
Ororo had been deeply hurt by that. She knew in her heart that what she experienced was real. How she knew this she could not say, but it was enough that she knew. Logan was alive; in the midst of all her grief, she had been given a miracle and she had no idea of how to make anyone else believe her.
Ororo heard the door open and close quietly as someone joined her in the room. She stood at the window, gazing out into the fading sun as she heard soft footsteps approach her. She noticed Jean’s faded reflection in the window and mentally sighed. She was not looking forward to talking with the telepath so soon after her dismissal.
“Ororo, we were hoping you would join us for dinner.”
Ororo shook her head, holding firmly onto her anger. “I am not very hungry; I only wish to be alone.” They had been the best of friends since the moment she had crossed the threshold of the mansion ten years ago; for Jean to deny her trust, belief and acceptance, it was more than her heart could bear.
Jean stepped closer, touching Ororo’s shoulder lightly. “Ororo, please.”
Ororo turned cold eyes on her friend, her anger quite evident. “You need have no worry, I am not about to fall apart on any of you again. I am once again in control of my grief.” Jean said nothing. Ororo turned back to the window. “This is not right, Jean. There is something very wrong with all of this. I am telling you Jean, it was real. He is alive.”
Jean’s hand fell away. “Ororo, sometimes the mind can play cruel jokes on you when you’ve lost someone special to you. You just need to give it time.”
Ororo snorted, a habit she had picked up from the feral mutant. “Time? Logan is trapped in a lab somewhere, being tortured most likely and you wish for me to give it time? Time is exactly what he is running out of and if we do not do something he will be well and truly dead.”
“Ororo, please…”
Ororo turned to face her friend. “He asked me to tell you that he was alive; he said that you of all people would understand.” She reached up and grasped Jean’s shoulders firmly, her eyes begging Jean to believe her. “All I am asking for is for you to understand now, do not question just trust. Is that so much to ask of you, my friend?”
Jean sighed, tears in her eyes, slowly shook her head. “Ororo, you have to accept what happened. Logan’s gone, he died trying to save another mutant from the dungeons of a government lab. He’s gone Ororo.”
Ororo’s hands dropped. “Is he? I am not so sure.” She turned back to the window, her heart aching at Jean’s denial.
“Ororo this denial is not healthy.”
Ororo turned to face her again, her eyes lit with suppressed rage and grief. “Have you ever known me to have flights of fancy? I am telling you, with everything I am, that Logan is alive. I can feel it.”
Jean hesitated slightly. “But Forge told us…”
She cut Jean off savagely. “Screw Forge. I do not believe him. I do not trust him or his story.”
Jean sighed, looking at Ororo for several silent moments before she gave a slight nod. “What do you want me to do?”
Ororo pressed her advantage. “I want you examine Logan’s body; if it is a clone and the adamantium skeleton has been faked, there should be some kind of proof. Give me something, anything that will convince Scott and the Professor to go down and save him.”
“And if the body is his?”
“Then I want to go down there; I want to see the place where Forge said Logan was killed. I want to see the truth for myself.”
Jean sighed again, turning to leave. “I’ll talk to the professor.” Ororo’s voice stopped just as her hand reached out for the door.
“Jean, please keep this to yourself; I do not want Forge to know what we are doing until we have discovered the truth. I do not want to give him any warning when we spring our trap on him.”
“You can’t really believe we’ll find him alive.”
Ororo smiled, pulling the remnants of the dream around her tattered soul. It was like a balm to her bruised heart, soothing her, strengthening her resolve. “I believe in him Jean, I trust in him and his love for me. He would never have done what Forge claims he did; not like that. Logan is many things but he has never been a fool. And Forge’s claims are those of a fool.”
Jean sat inside the Professor’s study, cradling a cup of cooling tea that she had yet to take a drink from. “I’m worried about her. She is experiencing severe denial and nothing I say can get through to her. I’m afraid she might hurt herself or someone else with these delusions.” She turned worried eyes to their leader.
Xavier sighed loudly, setting his own cup of untouched tea aside. “We shall just have to keep an eye on her for the time being; give her a couple of days and then we shall see where we stand. She has suffered a very severe shock.” He too was worried about Ororo, had in fact been watching her closely, feeling her emotional strain building as the days passed. He knew she was a strong woman, they all knew it, but there were limits within even the strongest of people. She was nearing a breaking point, they could all see it.
Knowing her as well as he did, as well as they all did, he knew well that the emotional storm she created three days ago was only the tip of the iceberg to her emotional depths. And he was afraid that the next time she found herself on the precipice, a mere step from stepping over and shattering on the rocks below, the resulting explosion would be far, far worse than a mere three day storm.
Jean sighed loudly, giving up the pretense of drinking her tea as she set it aside. “I know that, we all know that. But this dream she’s had, I scanned her mind while we were talking and she sincerely believes what she’s saying. She’s adamant that Logan came to her in a dream and told her he was still alive.”
“This is very disconcerting.”
“I was going to ask you if you’ve used Cerbro to look for him.” Xavier gave her a strange look. She reached out to take his hand. “I know Ororo, Charles. She’s not one for tall tales. If she tells me the sky is green, I’m apt to believe her.”
“She is a rather solid, dependable person, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. So maybe it might be a good idea to at least look.” Xavier sighed. “Please Charles, all I’m asking is that you look for him.”
Charles was silent for several moments, pondering Jean’s words. Finally, he nodded. “Perhaps you’re right, I shall head down to Cerebro right this moment.”
Jean stood up, giving the older man a kiss on the cheek before walking away. “Thank you Charles.”
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