A Feral Repose (part 3)
Ororo walked along the wooded path lost in her own thoughts as she tried to think of a way to persuade Logan into coming back to the mansion with her. She really didn’t think it was going to be all that easy. As it was, she couldn’t even get him to walk with her on the path.
Logan seemed to prefer moving along through the trees or climbing over rocks and through the brush instead of strolling along beside her. His physical appearance, at least from a distance was beginning to look more and more feral. His long, bushy mane was unkempt and the pointed tufts that grew out just above his ears - and were ever present no matter what length he kept it - now stood straight up and curled inward about six inches above his head. His muttonchop-style sideburns had also grown out to a fuller extent and were now curled up under his jaw although his chin and the little ‘mustache area’ above his lip showed only signs of morning stubble.
From a distance his outward appearance would make you stop and freeze in your tracks, praying that the ‘wild thing’ wouldn't notice your presence. When he was up close though, and you could look into his eyes, you could see an intelligence burning within them that couldn't be dismissed. He also had a natural playfulness, which before Ororo would've denied existed, and his natural curiosity about everything made him entertaining to watch.
As they walked along, Ororo had been forced to stop a few times to give her feet a rest. They were aching now, from sliding around in the sandals as she hiked the uneven ground, and at one point she sat down on a rock to remove the assaulting footwear and rub away the pain. ‘The next time I will wear proper footwear for hiking,’ she'd thought to herself.
Each time she'd stopped to rest, Logan would bounce out of the woods or drop out of a tree right next to her. He'd look at her with curious anticipation, as if wondering what was holding her up. Ororo could only shake her head and smile at his seemingly limitless energy. This time Logan crouched in front of her and watched as she massaged her aching feet, first one then the other. With a questioning look on his face he reached out and grasped her foot lightly, then squeezed his hand around it, imitating her. Ororo smiled at him and nodded.
“My feet hurt,” she told him, acknowledging his unasked question. He looked up at her and furrowed his brow. “Hurt?” Ororo repeated, and Logan's eyes focused on the movement of her mouth. She wondered if he even had a clue as to what aching feet felt like. “They hurt. Understand?”
‘No, probably not,’ she thought with a sigh, but to Ororo's surprise Logan opened his mouth as if he was going to speak. The only sound that came out though was a deep, guttural, incoherent noise. He hadn’t said the word, but it appeared to Storm that he had tried. Ororo’s eyes lit up and she slid forward on the rock so she could lean toward him attentively.
“Hurt, Logan. Say it,” Ororo prodded him. If he'd tried to say it once, maybe he’d try again. She could tell he was thinking about it. His eyes moved about as if searching for something, but they were focused inward as if he was trying to remember something. “Logan?” Ororo said getting his attention, and he raised his eyes to her and focused. “Hurt?” she repeated. It was an easy word, although perhaps not the best one to start off her lesson. He didn’t say it... he didn’t even try. “Hurt, Logan,” she prodded once more.
Instead of saying the word, Logan sat down on the ground in front of her and clutched his head lightly with both hands. Then lowered his hands to his abdomen, curling his fingers he pressed the "claw" hands into his belly. The _expression of pain and sadness on his face, as if he was feeling the pain now, made her want to cry. Ororo’s heart sank, fully aware that the one word Logan seemed to have a complete understanding of related to pain.
“Yes,” she confirmed quietly, her voice a half-whispered thought. “They hurt you.” Logan looked at her sadly and let out a deep sigh. “Does it still hurt?” she asked, not having the presence of mind to have asked before. His behavior never indicated to her that he may be in any pain, and she realized that that was something Logan probably wouldn’t have made known to them anyway.
He didn’t answer of course and Ororo slid off the rock to sit beside him on the ground. They looked at each other for a moment, then she placed her hand gently on top of his letting him know that she understood the pain he now remembered.
“Someone… hurt Logan,” she told him as he looked back at her. His sad and confused _expression told her clearly that he didn’t understand why someone would want to hurt him. Ororo took a deep breath and let it out. She wasn't able to comprehend their desire to hurt him either.
They looked at each other silently and Logan raised his hand slowly, absently rubbing at his chest as if satisfying an itch. The dust that'd collected there in the past twenty-four hours or so, and was held captive by his thick hair, was dislodged and formed a wispy cloud that hung in the air between them before it fell away. Of course the action once again drew Ororo's attention back to the fact that he was in desperate need of a bath. With a mother’s instincts Ororo took Logan's hands in hers and studied them front and back, as if she might scold him for having not washed them properly. Logan looked down at his hands as Ororo turned them over this way and that and with a knitted brow he raised his eyes to her as if asking her what she was doing.
When Ororo noticed Logan looking at her with that questioning, yet comical _expression on his face, she let out a soft laugh and let go of his hands. She smiled at him and shook her head at herself, realizing how silly that was. But even so, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to brush some of the thick dust off his arms, then his shoulders and chest. “You are truly filthy, my friend,” she informed him, and then wondered if all the dust and dirt even bothered him.
She'd moved without thinking, and so quickly in fact, that she was nearly finished with her task before it dawned on her that Logan had gasped. He was breathing heavily as Ororo withdrew her hands and sat back, and now it was her turn to look at him curiously. Had her movements frightened him?
"Logan? What's wrong?"
Logan looked at her without moving, his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes wide with surprise. Ororo reached out to him again, slowly this time, and Wolverine's eyes followed her hand as it came closer. He knew this time that she was approaching, so he shouldn’t be startled by her touch. In an attempt to show him that he had nothing to fear from her, Ororo pressed her hand gently against his sternum. His chest heaved and expanded in response to her touch. Logan took another deep breath and Ororo could feel his heart pounding beneath her hand - not just beating, but pounding - and his breathing became heavier to compensate for his bounding heart’s demand for oxygen. Ororo found this curious, he didn’t appear to be frightened and he made no attempt to move away. He just stared at her, with those darkened blue eyes peering out from beneath the black locks that now fell across his brow.
She watched him very carefully as she slowly curled her fingers into the thick black matte of hair on Logan's chest. As her fingernails scraped lightly against his skin Logan's respirations quickened and his eyes slowly closed. Ororo realized at once, that she hadn’t frightened him with her unexpected touch... she'd aroused him. At the very least she'd aroused his interest in the pleasant sensation. His affected response seemed to have surprised him as much as it did her.
‘Of course!’ Ororo considered. Logan’s heightened sensitivity to touch not only caused him to feel pain more acutely than others, but a seemingly innocent gesture, like the gentle brush of her hand, could cause an intense pleasure response. That very question had run through her mind a thousand times before; womanly curiosity, she supposed now. But she'd always refused to believe and absolutely refused to admit that her interest in him... well, was anything but personal. The very possibility of such an intense reaction from him had always frightened her; not knowing how she would react to - what could possibly become for him, she imagined - an uncontrollable and intensely powerful state of arousal. And having just seen his reaction to those very sensations, she was sure she'd been right all along, for it appeared to have nearly overwhelmed him as well.
Ororo had always shared a close bond with Wolverine; not just as teammates, who often found themselves putting their lives on the line for each other. And not just as friends who shared common interests, their bond was a spiritual one and it bound their very souls together. They understood each other and they respected each other and it went far beyond just being the best of friends. Ororo knew that. She'd always known that, but she'd always tried to deny it as well. She'd always denied her deeper feelings for him and, in doing so, she'd always denied him. She'd denied him the love and comfort and the intimate sharing of body and soul that he was so desperately searching for.
And she wasn’t sure how to feel about this, even now. Especially now, knowing she'd just caused a flood of very pleasant sensations to course through his body and, as the co-leader of their team, it made her feel a little awkward. But as a woman, she found herself quite intrigued by his reaction and more curious than afraid. It certainly wasn’t the first time she'd ever touched him in the many years they'd known each other. Why hadn't he ever reacted in that manner before? ‘Perhaps he had,’ Ororo answered herself silently. But using the same will-power and self-control that he'd often exhibited in keeping his reactions to pain in check, so he must also have done to control his responses to pleasurable stimuli. ‘Amazing.’
Ororo studied him as he sat in front of her. His eyes were now closed and his head was tilted slightly to one side. He seemed to be almost transfixed, focusing all of his attention on the feel of her touch as she continued to move her fingers lightly over the spot in the center of his chest. She watched as a mixture of emotions flittered across his face, as peace and
contentment battled with need and desire. These were the things Logan hid away and kept under tight control, but he wasn’t hidden from her this time. His defenses were down and Ororo could clearly see the aching need, that he'd always hidden so well, etched across his rugged features - the need to be loved, to be cherished, to be wanted.... and to love and want in return.
She marveled at the intensity of his _expression, realizing that the anger and the violence of the Wolverine was indeed balanced, to a perfected degree, by the gentleness and the passion which Logan steeled away within himself. It was obvious that he kept that part of himself carefully hidden and hidden so deeply in the shadows of his own soul that it seemed as though he literally had to lose himself in order to experience it again.
His body gave a light shudder and Ororo watched as the hair on his arms and chest stood up on end as a tingling sensation ran through him. She also noticed that his nipples had hardened beneath the thick hair in reaction to her touch and she let her palm glide over one. Her eyes roamed freely over his face and body and it was quite apparent that she was physically arousing him with her light caresses.
And because he was re-experiencing these things again for the first time, so-to-speak, Logan wasn’t expecting her touch to cause such an incredible sensation or invoke such an intense reaction. Ororo could only wonder, with a bit of awe mind you, at Logan's ability to keep such strong reactions under constant control. Ororo dropped her gaze to the spot where her hand was once again lain over his heart. Her fingers curled tightly into the thick soft matte again and before she realized it she was moving, closing the small distance between them, as she leaned forward to press her lips to his.
Logan jolted in surprise, his eyes flashing open and his back stiffened as all of his systems went on alert. Ororo registered the surprised reaction and immediately backed off. Logan stared at her again; his eyes intense and unblinking, his body as still as a statue. Even his breathing ceased as he looked at her with intense curiosity. Ororo brushed her fingers across her lips, as if wiping away the kiss would make it as if it had never happened. Looking toward the ground, she fidgeted nervously as she tried to recover her previous position. She brushed the hair from her forehead, clearing her throat loudly which caught Wolverine's direct attention.
Thinking she'd growled at him, he growled back. Ororo froze and shot him a look. She looked deep into his eyes for a moment as he regarded her seriously and, as she watched, Logan's now-black eyes flashed with a hint of gold and he lowered his head in that familiar predatory fashion. Ororo removed her hand from Logan’s chest and watched him closely. She looked down at the spot where her hand had been and realized that something was missing. The precious tags he'd always worn around his neck were missing; they had been torn from him during the struggle in Hank's laboratory.
Jean had found them later, lying on the floor and turned them over to Ororo just in case. Now, she reached into her pocket feeling the tags still safely nestled there. As she drew them out of her pocket, they produced a tinny rasping sound as they slid along the chain and the unusual sound caught Logan’s attention. He opened his eyes and looked toward her pocket curiously.
“I have something for you,” she said quietly then opened her hand to show him the shiny tags resting in her palm. Logan leaned in closer to examine them and after a moment he reached out his hand to stir them slowly with one finger. Ororo moved her hand toward him; inviting him to take them but, as she did, Logan withdrew his hand and sat back.
Ororo simply figured he didn’t understand that she was offering them to him, so she spread the chain out between her hands, letting the tags dangle from it. They made a sharp ‘ting-ing’ sound as the tags gently knocked together, then she leaned forward to drape it around his neck. When Logan realized what she was attempting to do he ducked his head and rolled away from her, and was on his feet instantly. He looked at her with apprehension, as if he didn’t understand why she'd just tried to put a chain around his neck.
Ororo froze in motion, then sat there stunned. ‘That did not just happen,’ she tried to tell herself. She looked up at him, trying to gauge his _expression. ‘What is he thinking? Does he know what they are, what they represent?’
Logan had clearly rejected the tags, and now stood nearby watching her closely. He seemed confused by her attempt to return the tags to him and she wondered if perhaps the sight of them had jogged part of his memory. And if it did, was he now associating her with that horrendous pain? She certainly hoped not.
Not knowing what else to do at the moment, Ororo stood up slowly and put the tags back in her pocket, to keep them safe in case he changed his mind later. She wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, after all, the tags were not her focus - he was.
She was aware of him standing only a few feet away on alert, watching her. Moving nonchalantly, as if nothing unusual had happened, Storm slid the sandals back on her feet and flashed him a friendly smile. Then she continued along the path, inviting him to come along. Logan hesitated for a couple of seconds, watching her curiously as she walked away. Then he followed her at a distance.
* * * * * *
The X-Men finished their discussion in the professor’s absence, and finally concluded that there was no singular way to approach the situation with Wolverine that was particularly better than another. So they decided not to approach it with any specified plan of action.
“Just take it as it comes then?” Rogue had asked.
“I think that’s all we can do,” Hank replied. “How could we possibly predict what to expect when they come in?” he asked them all in return. “Therefore, how could we presume to know, beforehand, what the most appropriate course of action would be?”
“The only thing we can be sure of,” Scott added, “is that we can’t be sure of anything.” Jean nodded in agreement and the others had to accept it, reluctantly.
“I say…’leave him out there,” Warren said quietly as he stared out the window, then he turned toward the group, “If you want my opinion.”
“We don’t,” Gambit replied scornfully.
“Remy, be quiet,” Scott admonished his younger teammate, then he addressed Angel. “What’re you saying, Warren?”
“I’m sayin’… ‘Leave him out there.’ At least until he comes to his senses and comes in on his own,” he answered.
“Without our help Warren that could take a long time,” Rogue informed him.
“So?” Warren remarked. “I say let him be. Wolverine can take care of himself. He’s safe enough on the grounds… and we’re safer without him.”
“Safer without him? What makes you say that?” Scott asked, not believing that for a second.
“He would never hurt us, Warren,” Jean said, more in an attempt to support Scott than being so convinced of that herself. “He has no reason to harm us.”
“No reason?” Warren repeated in surprise. “Since when does he need a reason? Wolverine is dangerous. He’s volatile and unpredictable, always has been. You people are just fooling yourselves thinking otherwise,” he retorted, and Dr. McCoy leaned forward in his chair.
“There was a time, yes, when Wolverine was a great threat… to himself, as well as others. But…”
“No!” Warren interrupted. “No ‘buts’. He still is… and always will be! Do you think he was just playing when he tried to get away from Peter the other day?”
“He was frightened, Warren, and confused. Can’t you understand that?” Jean tried to explain. “He was hurting…”
“That’s just it! He’s always gonna be hurting! Those people who did this to him made sure of that! He may've gotten away from them, but he will never be free of them! They made sure of it! Don’t you understand? Their hold on him will never be loosened!” Warren was nearly shouting and everyone looked at him, stunned. Scott took a step forward, and tried not to sound accusatory when he spoke.
“What do you know about all that?” he asked. Warren didn’t answer, but his _expression told them clearly that he regretted shooting off his mouth. He lowered his eyes, letting out a big sigh and ran his hand through his blond hair, pulling it away from his face and shaking his head in exasperation. “What is it, between you and Wolverine that we don’t know?” Scott asked, this time he didnt care how it sounded, he wanted an explanation for Warren’s behavior.
“There is nothing between us,” Angel replied, sounding quietly convincing. “I've been there, Scott. That hurt… it just goes too deep. Can’t escape it.” It was obvious to Scott that Warren was referring to his own capture and torture by the mutant known as Apocalypse. And whatever was going on between the Angel and the Wolverine was going to remain between them, at least for now. The X-Men looked at him without another word and, when the silence became too uncomfortable to take anymore, Gambit took his leave.
“I need a smoke,” he said and strode out of the room.
TBC in "A Feral Repose, part 4"
