“Late night?”
Ororo started, nearly falling from the bed. “N’Yami!”
“Your late rising wouldn’t have anything to do with the short, sweaty man currently beating our warriors senseless would it?”
Ororo barely contained her surprise. Logan was at the palace? Not that he hadn’t been a frequent visitor for the past several nights, because he had, only it was normally in the darkest hours of night. After their initial meeting and her breakdown Logan had decided to help her on her quest for vengeance.
Night after night they went out and took down factions of T’Shan’s army. Each night she was one step closer to justice. And one step farther away from herself. She brushed that errant thought aside and sat up in the bed.
The older woman sipped her lemon flavored water, her deep set eyes regarding Ororo thoughtfully. “Well?”
“No. Yes.” Ororo rubbed the spot between her eyebrows aggresively. “I don’t know. What was the question?”
N’Yami set her glass aside. “I will take that as a yes. I can‘t say that I blame you. He did look quite virile in the sparring room.”
Ororo quickly shook her head. “Wolverine is an old friend--”
“I know very well who he is.” N’Yami said matter-of-factly but Ororo got the distinct impression that the matriarch knew far more than simply the name of their palace guest. “And I for one think it’s about time. One could do much worse than that fine specimen of male. If I was 20 years younger I‘d give you some competition.”
Ororo gaped for a moment. “First of all, Wolverine is probably at least 80 years older than you.”
N’Yami cocked her head. “Really?”
“Really.” Ororo said. “And second, he is an old friend. Nothing more.”
“Mmhm.” N’Yami reached for her drink again, hiding her smirk behind a sip. “There is no better friend than the one with benefits, no?”
Ororo suppressed the urge to hurl her pillow at the Queen Mother. “I am telling you, Logan and I are just friends.”
“’Roro, you up yet?” The double doors to the adjacent room swung inward before N‘Yami could respond to Ororo‘s steadfast claim.
“Speak of the devil,” N’Yami murmured around her straw.
“Logan-” Ororo cast him a sharp look, intent on telling him to leave until she was dressed and N’Yami gone, but her breath caught at the sight of his bare chest and glistening biceps. He must have come straight from the sparring room, she mused. His normally spiked hair was dangling in damp tendrils over his forehead, which he wiped with a small towel. He looked rugged, athletic and very, very sexy.
“Close your mouth, dearest. It’s not polite to drool in front of your guests,” N’Yami cut in when it became apparent that Ororo was a bit distracted.
Heat crept into Ororo’s cheeks. “Isn’t there somewhere else you should be, Majesty?” The last word was drawn out.
“Not anywhere more interesting, no.” N’Yami let her eyes wander Logan’s muscled frame.
Logan cleared his throat, but made no attempt to cover himself with his towel. “Sorry. I can come back later.”
“Yes.” Ororo shot out.
“Nonsense.” N’Yami insisted. “You are a most welcome in our home. Before I forget, which chamber are you staying in, Mr. Logan? I will see to it that it is freshened.”
“It’s just Logan.” He smiled at the Queen Mother. “And I’m not staying here. I got a nice hotel roo-”
“Unacceptable.” N’Yami cut in. “You are a friend of Ororo’s and as such, I must insist that you stay in the Palace.”
Logan glanced at Ororo who suddenly seemed to have found her counterpane undeniably fascinating. He wondered how she would take him at the Palace, in her home. Her and T’Challa’s home. Logan sighed inwardly. He probably shouldn’t crowd her. He sure as hell wanted to crowd her, desperately. And seeing her in her thin white top and bed-mussed hair only augmented that desire, but he was uncertain as to his standing with her, even after spending several evening fighting alongside her. Like before. Before it had all gone so awry and life had dealt them both another shit hand. “Thanks fer the offer, but I’m good where I’m at.”
N’Yami’s eyes narrowed.
“But a room here does sound nice,” Logan added quickly.
“Brilliant.” N’Yami clapped her hands. “Then it’s settled. Isn’t that lovely, Ororo?”
“Lovely.” Ororo replied woodenly. She purposely decided not to pay attention to the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat.
“Whoa, whoa,” Logan held up his hands. “I didn’t say I would stay.”
“Do we offend you?” N’Yami asked pleasantly.
“Huh?”
“Do we offend you, Mr. Logan?”
“Of course not.”
“Well then, I see no reason for you to be elsewhere. You are Ororo’s friend, an invited guest and I am assuming astute enough to know when to relent.”
Ororo snorted.
N’Yami’s mouth twitched, catching the “not likely” buried within the chuff.
“Come, Mr. Logan. Walk with me.” N’Yami rose smoothly. “Let us let Ororo have a few minutes to freshen up. Heaven knows the child looks a fright.”
Logan thought she looked damn appealing, but refrained from comment. “It’d be a pleasure.” He held out an arm for N’Yami.
“Yes, it will be.” N’Yami smiled brilliantly.
Ororo gaped as the Queen Mother of Wakanda giggled like a school girl as she strolled arm and arm with the most dangerous man on the planet. With a grumble she rolled to her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. It was going to be a long day.
~~~
“Do you still want Ororo for your own?”
Logan cast the woman beside him a sharp look. Masking his surprise was futile, so he didn’t try. “What?”
N’Yami inclined her head, studying the view from the balcony that she and Logan stood on. “I know you heard me. I also know the answer.”
“Do ya now?”
“Yes.”
Logan crossed his arms. “Then why even ask the question?”
“What better way to introduce a topic of conversation than to ask a direct question.”
Logan shifted his weight so that he leaned against the rail. “No offense, lady, but this ain’t a conversation I want to have with you.”
N’Yami laughed easily. “What you want is of little concern to me.”
Logan couldn’t help but admire the woman’s straightforwardness.
“I only speak of this because I believe that deep down, Ororo wants you as well.”
That got his attention.
“And it is her happiness and wants that concern me. T’Challa spoke of you, you know.” She added, turning to face him.
“I’m sure he did.” Logan was also sure it wasn’t a glowing review of oozing praise.
“He said you were dangerous, ruthless and uncontrollable.”
Logan shrugged. “All true.”
“He also said you were the only other man that loved Ororo as much as he did.”
Logan lowered his head and sighed.
“Is this also true?” N’Yami persisted.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I believe it does.”
“She’s not ready to move on.”
“Perhaps that is because she has nothing to move on to?” N’Yami murmured quietly. “Lost in the sea of grief, one must see land before swimming towards the shore.”
Logan shook his head with a wry chuckle. “You should put those in cookies.”
N’Yami smirked. “Wrong culture.”
“Hnh. You wouldn’t be so interested in me with Ororo if you knew me better. I ain’t like Panther.”
“My son was a good man. A good king and a wonderful husband. He was also only human, Mr. Logan. As is Ororo, despite her best efforts. T’Challa had faults and flaws as we all do. Do not compare yourself to his memory. We tend to gloss over the reality of a person after death, in order to preserve the good. I prefer to remember the whole. Flaws are far more interesting than perfection.” Logan was startled when he felt a soft hand settle on his shoulder. “Give her something to swim for.” With that N’Yami left him on the balcony. Logan set his jaw, his gaze moving across the blue sky.
~~~~
Ororo chewed her food absently, her mind drifting once again to the image of Logan covered in sweat just inside her bedroom door. She stabbed her fork into her sausage. “Blasted man.”
“That me, darlin’?”
Ororo jumped a bit at the rumble directly behind her. She slowly lowered her fork to her plate. “Yes.” She didn’t bother to lie. She was thankful he was fully dressed, however. She was uncertain how much more of a distraction she could take.
“Hnh.” Logan pulled out the chair on her right. “Sorry if I put ya in an awkward position, ‘Ro.”
She sighed. “No. You did not. In truth I should have invited you to stay at the palace myself.”
He cocked a brow, waiting. When she didn’t continue he asked. “Why didn’t ya?”
Ororo lifted her troubled eyes to his. “You know very well why.”
“’Cause of Panther.”
“Yes.” That and with Logan under the Palace roof again she couldn’t help but remember their night together. Fast, hard, rough, and full of all the things left unspoken between them, it had been a night she would never forget.
“We need to talk,” he said finally.
“No. We don’t.”
“’Ro.” He reached a hand out, tilting her chin. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” She questioned.
“Watch you destroy yerself.”
“Then leave.”
“I can’t do that either.”
“Of course you can, Logan. I have seen you do it time and again over the years.”
He flinched. “That ain’t fair.”
“Life isn’t.” She stood, pulling away from him. “I didn’t ask you to come, and I won’t ask you to stay.”
“I ain’t leaving.” His voice was firm and determined.
Ororo took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to.” She confessed.
Logan stood, his dark eyes intense. “’Ro…”
She took a step back. “I-I can’t.”
“Wait.” He reached for her.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head before turning away and walking away.
“Good job, canknucklehead.” Logan swore at himself. He exhaled a pent breath, running both hands over his face. Giver her something to swim for. “’Roro! Wait up!” Beep Beep Beep. Damn it. Logan pulled his cell phone from his belt loop. “Wolverine.” He answered. “Yer sure. When? I’ll be there.” He snapped the phone shut, his lips curling into a savage snarl. “Payback.”
13 Hours later
Wolverine crouched low, his stance predatory and ready to strike. His informant had come through, right on the money. He lifted his head slightly, taking in the scents on the wind, mentally cataloguing and placing all of them in less time than it took most people to process the concept. Fourteen men, all armed. Two trucks. Four women, probably slaves. Explosives. Lots of them. And one primary target.
Wolverine perked, hearing voices.
“This is everything?”
“Yes.”
“These are completely undetectable?”
“Completely. Nothing comes close to their contained explosive power or stealth. Compact and light, they are easy to transport and even easier to use. A child could do it.”
“Yes, but what about a woman?”
There was a round of laughter following that statement.
“There is no way that Palace security will pick up on these?”
“No. They are undetectable.”
“Excellent.”
There was a rustling as if boxes were being moved.
“Wait. T’Shan, where is my money?”
“Ah, money.” Two shots rang out and Wolverine heard the distinctive sound of a body thumping to the ground and the sharp tang of blood to his nostrils. “Why are people so stupid?”
“Good question.” Wolverine snarled, leaping from his hiding spot and slicing open two of the armed men beside the trucks as he did. Immediately the other men opened fire and Wolverine hissed as several bullets found their marks in his flesh.
“Protect me!” T’Shan ordered, his face a contemptuous sneer. “Kill the mutant!”
Logan grinned as another pair of men came at him. They were dispatched before they blinked, their heads rolling across the sand seconds before their lifeless bodies hit the blood spattered earth. Standing straight, his teeth bared and sliver claws dripping blood, Logan looked fierce and terrible in the moonlight. “You!” He pointed at T’Shan. “I want yer head!”
“Filthy animal!” T’Shan shrieked. He flipped open the small box in his hands. “For Wakanda!!” He pressed a small red button.
Streaks of electric blue formed a dome grid over Logan’s head. “What the--?”
ZzzzzzzzzzzzzckBOOM!
“Jesus!” Logan had been burned before. Countless times. More than he could remember. Hell, he and Jeannie had gone into the fuckin’ sun, so he knew pain and heat, but nothing could have prepared him for the raw excruciation that T’Shan’s little box provided. “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” He felt like his bones were melting…
“Take these to the Palace.” He heard T’Shan over his own screams. “Liberation begins now!”
“Yes, Majesty,” a young woman bowed and Logan jerked, placing the voice and scent. She was a servant in Ororo’s home! No! No, no, no! “Stoooooooooorm!!!”
Palace
“Logan!” Ororo’s hand flew to her chest.
“Did you say something, my dear?” N’Yami asked, looking up from her stitching. The two were seated in the lounge in front of the fire, comfortable in an old routine that they hadn’t shared in awhile. It had been N’Yami’s idea, and wanting to avoid Logan at the moment, Ororo had agreed.
“I-I don’t know. I thought I heard…” She cocked her head, her herb enhanced senses on high alert.
“Heard what?”
She rose, walking to the window. “Something terrible.”
Elsewhere
“Ah, god, ‘Ro…” Wolverine would have blinked his eyes if he’d had eyelids. How much time had passed? He didn't know.
“Animal.”
Logan tried to focus on the blurry figure standing over him.
“Pathetic.”
Spit splattered against his cheek.
“…Dead. Yer…dead.” Logan vowed. “Kill…you.”
T’Shan laughed. “Doubtful. You're one of those stupid blaze forth and to hell with the odds kinds of fellows. I'm a calculator. I know the odds, weigh it out and plan. I hadn't planned on you tonight, but as you see, I am not unprepared for any eventuality.” He held up another small box. “One more ought to do the trick.”
How many had they gone through? Logan briefly wondered. Two? Three? More? He shook with wounds and his body was growing weary from constant healing. He turned his head towards his arm. All of the flesh was melted off and he could see muscle and sinew. Raw. He was so raw. And T'Shan's uber ego was grating on his already raw nerves.
T’Shan grinned, flipping open the box. “Die!”
“Wolverine!”
Logan screamed as a body slammed into him just seconds before the blue net formed overhead. White hair floated over his face and blue eyes filled his vision. Ororo. No! He tried to throw her off of him, hoping to clear her from the blast, but she held firm.
Ororo clamored to cover all of Logan, pulling his arms and head beneath her chest. She hated that she was hurting him, but she had no choice. Light sizzled and popped, flashing and scorching the earth and slamming into the entangled duo on the ground.
T’Shan’s evil laughter echoed in the stillness that followed.
Logan was frantic, his heart pounding. Ororo lay so still atop him and he couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear anything except the clamoring of his own heart. Oh, God, Ororo. Not Ororo. Please, God, not Ororo.
A fat drop of cool rain struck Logan’s exposed thigh, then another, and another until he was blanketed in the soothing water. “…’Ro…?”
Ororo lifted her head from it’s protective droop over Logan’s. “Easy, Mountain Man. I’ve got this.” He thought he felt her lips fleetingly on his temple, but he couldn’t be certain.
T’Shan fell back, his mouth dropped open in disbelief. “What? How?” He looked at the crate of explosives, his mind working frantically.
“Ball lightning.” Storm said, her voice like ice. “T’Challa’s invention. A way to harness the power of a lightning bolt as a defensive, controlled weapon. Quite brilliant actually.” She lifted her glowing white eyes to T’Shan’s. “But completely ineffective against me.” She took slow, measured steps forward. “I command the winds,” The winds picked up, whipping sand and rain, causing her tattered skirt to swirl around her legs and stinging T’Shan’s eyes and skin. “The rain.” The droplets became driving, sharp and stinging. “All the primal forces of nature. You have no weapon that can compare to the fury I will unleash upon you.” Thunder shook the ground and lightning snapped from the ends of her billowing hair. The clouds rolled, darkening the already dark night to pitch black, the only relief two stark glowing eyes.
“You don’t scare me, witch!”
“Yes, I do.” Ororo corrected. “And I should. Because I am going to shred the flesh from your bones.” Hail, the size of half dollars spun from the clouds, striking hard, gouging flesh.
“Auuuugh!” T’Shan dropped to his knees as several chucks tore the skin from his cheeks and nose.
“You robbed this country of their king!" Ororo continued her slow, methodical stalking. Lightning flashed and thunder groaned. Wind lifted and tossed T’Shan against the truck, then up and against the ground. “You took my husband from me!” T’Shan was pinned to the ground, the clouds swirling faster and faster over his head. “You murdered him!” Larger chunks of hail rained down. “You stole his life!” Lightning arced from cloud to cloud.
“Auuuuuuuuugh!!”
“You murdered my unborn child.” Her voice caught and broke. “You deserve death.”
She lifted her face skywards, tears streaming down her cheeks. “T’Challa, guide my hand.” She closed her eyes, and let the fury raging inside out.
On the ground Logan rolled to his stomach, watching in awe and sadness as T’Shan was torn limb from limb by the raging winds and massive chucks of hail. “Ororo,” he whispered her name.
She opened her eyes. Surprisingly, upon seeing T’Shan’s torn and bloody remains there was no immediate relief, only a deep ache and a familiar emptiness. She sank to her knees and cried as the rain washed the blood from the sands.
“”Ro…” Logan rose shakily to his feet, his healing factor finding a second wind and kicking it into overdrive. “We have to get to the palace. Splatter boy has people on their way there with explosives. We have to warn N‘Yami.”
Ororo wiped her eyes. She stood slowly. “They’ll be fine.”
“But N’Yami--”
“Who do you think is wearing the Panther suit?”
Logan laughed picturing that. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but felt good too. “You okay?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “No.”
He nodded. “Killin’ is never easy--”
“It’s not that.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“I almost lost you tonight, Logan.” She swallowed. “I was so scared when I saw you. I thought I was too late.” Her face crumpled and fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. “I can’t lose you too,” she stumbled towards him.
“Ain’t gonna happen, darlin’.” Logan grunted, meeting her halfway and pulling her into his arms. He cradled her close as she cried, his heart aching for her loss, and for T’Challa, and with the weight of understanding. He was still uncertain as to where he and Ororo stood, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but the feel of her in his arms. Where she belonged. Where she had always belonged.
Seven Months Later
“N’Yami!” Ororo flung open her bedroom window, leaning out towards the gardens. “N’Yami!”
N’Yami walked serenely up the cobbled path, instructing several servants as she did , pointing and suggesting. She paused in her instructions long enough to lift her eyes towards a clearly frazzled Ororo. “Yes, darling?”
“Don’t you ‘yes, darling’ me.” Ororo waved the rolled paper clutched in her hands accusatorily. “I swear, if I hadn’t sworn to T’Challa I wouldn’t fry you--” she let the threat hang in the air.
N’Yami clucked. “I just want the best for you, love.”
“Why not let me decide what’s best for me?”
“Because you are so terrible at it.” N’Yami replied sweetly.
“Ugh!” Ororo slammed the windows shut, her face contorted in anger and grudging amusement.
Okay, calm down, Ororo. Chances are he isn’t anywhere that he could see the notices…
“’Roro!!” A loud roar echoed throughout the halls.
Scratch that.
Her door swung open and Logan stood in her doorway, his face a mask of confusion and an unidentified emotion.
Ororo quickly tucked the paper behind her back. “Hello, Logan.”
“Hello, Logan?” His lip curled. “Hello, Logan?”
“All right, goodbye, Logan?”
“Not funny, ‘Ro.” He held up his fist, dangling from which was a familiar poster. “Is this true?”
Swallowing hard, Ororo nodded. “Yes. But, I can explain--!” She shrieked as Logan lunged at her. He pinned her against the wall, his face mere inches from hers. “And this is how I find out?” He slapped the poster against the wall.
She flushed, her hands gripping his broad shoulders. “Well, that was not my intentions, or plan, no.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it.” Ororo peered at him through veiled eyes. “Well?”
“I’m still in shock here, ‘Roro, gimme a sec.” He shook his head as though to clear it. He reread the announcement in his hand.
“A baby?”
“Yes.” Ororo touched Logan’s face, her fingers caressing his whiskered jaw.
“I don’t know what to say.” Logan admitted, looking dazed.
Ororo felt a flare of unease. “I know we never spoke of children-”
“’Ro, shush.” Logan placed his finger over her lips. “It’s not that. It’s just…I have no words.” He grinned. “Wait.” He pushed away from the wall, once again flinging open the bedroom windows and hanging over the sill. “I’m gonna be a faaaaaather!” he shouted. “Whoohooooo!”
Ororo, assailed by laughter, pulled on his shoulders. “Get back in here.”
Logan turned, pulling her into his arms. “A family.” His eyes darkened and Ororo knew he was as happy as she was.
“Yes,” she whispered, pulling his head to hers for a slow kiss.
As always the world melted away and there was only the two of them, lost in each other. Life had led them on a perilous journey, fraught with danger, hurts, loss, friendships, and great loves, but it wasn’t until it was almost gone had Ororo realized how much she needed Logan, and he her.
Without breaking contact they stumbled onto the bed, quickly divesting each other of the cloth barriers separating them.
“Love you,” Logan whispered into her mouth.
“Love you,” she returned.
Downstairs in the inner sanctum of the garden, N’Yami stroked a white petals of a budding hidaya mvua. She came to this place on nights she wanted to feel close to her son. She smiled, humming a family lullaby quietly. “She is happy now, my warrior prince.” She spoke softly. “She still wears your memorial band on her finger. Behind her wedding ring. Logan treats her exceedingly well, as you know. A bit gruff around the edges, that man is. Not the polished perfection you were, but he suffices.” She chuckled a bit. “They are expecting their first child, as I am sure you know. Tonight we celebrate and I know you will be with us in spirit, my son. Watching over her. She loved you so much, T’Challa. She loves you still. That is the miracle of love. It is never ending and never in short supply.” She smiled, her eyes misty. “Tell your father I love him. I will be with you both again someday. But not any day soon. I have a grandbaby to play with soon. Goodnight, T’Challa.”
With her back turned N’Yami didn’t see the hidaya mvua bloom to it’s full splendor, nor the solitary drop of dew that rolled from the petal and kissed the soil.
Up in her room, with the windows once again shut Ororo felt a warm breeze stir over her shoulders like a gentle caress. She lifted her head from the pillow, listening to the water running in the shower. She smiled, running her fingertips over the dual bands on her left hand. One for the memory of the man that taught her how to open her heart, and the other for the man that was her heart.
