Chapter Twelve: Consequences
Logan and Ororo did not “come up for air” for three days.
They spent that time reacquainting themselves with their relationship. Hours were spent talking or laughing, making love until neither of them could move. She felt, for the first time since the shooting, that the Logan she had fallen in love with had returned to her.
Both of them were aware that the world marched on beyond the door to their bedroom and yet the pressure to return to their tempestuous lives was ignorable. Even now, as they lounged in her enormous bathtub, there was little in the way of urging to move on.
Ororo dropped her head back against Logan’s shoulder, letting the scent of his cigar smoke roll over her. The water had turned lukewarm, but she was too comfortable to suggest getting out or turning on the hot tap again.
The steady beat of his heart thudded against her naked back, a smile toying at her lips at the feel of his hairy, muscular chest. For the first time since the shooting, her back did not ache or shoot violent pain through her weary nerves.
A delicious soreness spoke only of their activities in the last few days. Here with him in this way, there was nothing between them. Nothing and no one else existed inside this room.
“How long do you think we have before they start banging the door down?” the low growl of her Logan’s voice made it difficult to concentrate on his question.
“Mmm,” she hummed, tilting her head slightly so she could look into his eyes. “I am unsure.”
His thick, masculine arms tightened around her chest. Ororo grunted a little, smiling at him warmly.
“You thinkin’ we should make an appearance, show ‘em we’re alive?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” she grinned, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Perhaps for dinner?”
He smiled wolfishly. “That’s still a few hours away.”
Placing a swift look of false innocence onto her face, Ororo fought a smile. “Is it?”
They fell back into silence, idly stroking one another’s wet arms and legs. There was a sense of timelessness wrapped in each other this way. As though pressure had reached a breaking point between them, the walls they had built to protect themselves were now broken, leaving them both without protection from each other.
That first night of reunion left her with an overwhelming sense of peace. She no longer bore the fear of Logan running from her again. They had bound themselves together, two incomplete parts of a whole. Oh, she had no doubt they would hurt one another again, and she was relatively certain they would both have moments of regret. That, she thought, was simply human nature.
Before they could speak or move, there came a knock on their bedroom door.
“Storm? Wolverine? Sorry to disturb, but we have a problem,” came the soft voice of Jean through the door.
“Surprised it took trouble so long to find us,” Logan growled into her ear.
“Yes, Jean,” Ororo replied to her friend, elbowing Logan sharply. “We will be right out.”
“We’re in the War Room.”
Logan met Ororo’s eyes again, one of his thick brows raising slightly. “Now that can’t be good.”
~*~
Several minutes later, Ororo and Logan entered the War Room to find a nearly comical sight. It was absurd to see the Brotherhood sitting elbow to elbow with the X-Men. Though she and Logan refrained from direct physical contact in the presence of the others, they remained close.
“Ah, there you are,” Charles said smoothly as they entered, his tone leaving no room for anyone to make a snide comment.
Ororo took her place on the Professor’s left side, with her team. Across the long table, the Gold team faced the Blue, with the Brotherhood on the opposite end from Charles. It was a strange spectacle, seeing former enemies gathered together as barely willing allies.
Logan’s throat vibrated with a soft growl, but Ororo shot him a look that quite easily shut him up. Once everyone settled, Erik began to speak, tapping a few commands into the console in front of him.
“We have a problem, children,” Magneto started, indicating to the map that appeared before them, compliments of holo-imaging.
Storm’s eyes flicked over the topographical map, noting a dozen glowing spots that seemed to be a sign of something. After everyone had taken several seconds to look over the image carefully, Erik continued.
“The light points are mutant hideouts, many of them simply families in hiding,” the powerful mutant said in his deep tone. “Every indicated point is where a mutant has been abducted over the last six hours.”
Her eyes going wide suddenly, Ororo chanced a glance around the table, not surprised to find her friends’ shocked expressions. With a pang, she turned to Rogue, who was staring in horror at a softly glowing light centered in Germany.
Kurt, she thought, swallowing thickly.
“It seems our troubles with the Friends of Humanity are not yet over,” Charles continued solemnly.
“Do you know where they have been taken or why?” Cyclops asked, carefully controlling his emotions.
“We know why,” Erik said bluntly, looking directly at Storm and Wolverine. “Where is a question we cannot yet answer.”
Storm exchanged a glance with Wolverine, understanding his sudden discomfort. They were to blame for this new inflammation of the Friends. Their brash exit had not only destroyed the base at Canon County and killed a number of the members, it was a rebuke. An insult.
“What is the plan?”
Mystique stood, changing the holo-image before them with a quick tap on the console in front of Magneto. Her hollow, echoing voice sent an eerie shiver down Ororo’s spine. The mutant woman’s eyes took in each person at the conference table. Storm wanted to bring down lightning when her yellow gaze lingered on Wolverine.
As though hearing her inward jealousy, Logan touched her hand under the table, calming her instantly. How he had known she was ready to commit murder again, was unknown, but part of her felt a jolt of giddy satisfaction that he was hers now.
“Between our three teams here, we will hit three other known Friends bases,” said the shape-shifter. “The Brotherhood will go to the rebuilt base in Colorado, the X-Men’s Blue team will lead an attack in Washington and the Gold to Germany, where we believe they are holding Nightcrawler.”
“Attack?” Cyclops said quickly, revulsion in his voice. “Are we sure a full attack will do anything?”
“Yes,” Magneto cut in. “They expect you to hold your positions, gather your mutants close and wait them out. They do not know that we are allied and they will certainly never expect a preemptive strike.”
“There is some wisdom in what Magneto says,” Storm chimed in. “If they know as much as we believe about me, they will assume I have not yet recovered from the incident in Canon County. I will have the element of surprise.”
She turned to Charles, whom seemed to agree with her. Several of the Brotherhood members looked surprised that she had spoken in favor of this plan. Cyclops, Jean, Henry and Logan all turned to her in minute shock.
“I know,” she nodded slowly. “And I would agree that my powers were pushed to the limit in Canon County, but I need to do this. Everything that has happened is because of me.”
“That ain’t true,” Wolverine began.
She cut him off with a single look. Her heart did a mysterious double beat, as though she could feel the building fear and rage within her beloved. He flinched for a moment, then raised a brow. Something odd was happening between them, but they had no time to sort it out now.
“We cannot allow this to go unheard,” Henry added a moment later. “Our creed demands we at least attempt to free these abducted mutants.”
“I am inclined to agree,” Charles said with an air of finality. “Erik, I expect the mutants in Colorado to be returned unharmed as well as any humans that may be held with them.”
Magneto’s face broke into a benevolent smile. “For once, old friend, we are agreed on that score. All those abducted will be rescued, including Homo sapiens.”
“Good,” the Professor turned to his team leaders. “Scott, you will take your team with one of the Brotherhood’s jets, Storm will take ours. You have your orders, good luck.”
The meeting was immediately adjourned. Storm motioned for the X-Men in her team to follow her at once. It would take some time to get the jet prepared for take off.
“Storm?”
At Cyclops’ call, Ororo sent Wolverine to prepare the jet, turning to face him as the other mutants rushed to their tasks. Mystique gave Storm a curiously amused smirk, which only served to make the white-haired weather witch ready to punch her.
“Take Jubilee with you,” Cyclops said quickly, motioning for the young X-Man to follow the Gold team. “We’ll be taking Quicksilver with us, so the teams will be even.”
Storm nodded, jerking her head to the side for Jubilee to get suited up. The Asian mutant’s exuberant jog reminded Ororo of Tunza at mealtime.
“You are concerned,” Storm said to Cyclops when they were alone.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I trust the Brotherhood, on this at least, but something about this doesn’t feel right.”
Storm tapped her lips with a forefinger, contemplating his words. There was a certain truth to what her dear friend said. Though it was not so unusual for the X-Men to divide for missions such as this, the actions of the usually erratic Friends did seem oddly organized. In just over six hours, they had managed to abduct over two dozen mutants, many of them carefully spread apart over thousands of miles.
“I agree,” she nodded. “Keep Jean in close contact with me. If something starts to go wrong, save as many as you can and get out.”
“Same goes for you,” Cyclops rubbed her shoulder gently. “They’ll be gunning for you the second they see you, Wolverine too. Be careful how much power you use, the government is on the watch as well.”
“Lovely,” she retorted with a hint of sarcasm. “Though I can hardly blame them after the tornado in Canon County. It was a phenomenon.”
“Yeah,” Cyclops turned when Jean called for him. “Keep your nose clean, kid.”
“Stay out of trouble,” she returned, winking as he jogged toward his team.
Storm watched him move away for a long moment, then turned to find the Professor watching her just as carefully from the doorway of the War Room.
“Trust your instincts,” he said in a ringing tone. “Above all else.”
Nodding, though wondering if he meant while on the mission or about Wolverine, she offered him a small smile.
“Try to not worry overmuch.”
“I will endeavor to do so.”
Without replying, she moved down to the hangar, already noting the sound of a jet taking off from several meters down the corridor. It was going to be a long day.
~*~
The jet’s engines hovered somewhere between a loud purr and ear-piercing roar as the Gold team. Wolverine sat in his co-pilot’s chair, twisting the knobs and flipping buttons without her asking him.
The younger members of their team were all strapped in behind them, fidgeting from the long trip across the Atlantic. It was curiously quiet, even four hours into the trip. Storm glanced over her shoulder, frowning at the terrified look on young Rogue’s face.
“She’s all right,” Logan said quietly from beside her. “She’ll snap out of it soon enough.”
“I can hardly blame her,” Storm agreed. “She and Kurt are very close.”
They lapsed back into silence, both concentrating on the glowing and beeping of the equipment before them. Storm sighed, expelling the air from her lungs slowly. Logan glanced at her, raising a brow.
Shaking her head, she sucked in a breath suddenly, feeling a roll of concern that was at once alien and perfectly natural. Her frown deepening, she tried to shake the feeling, looking to Logan only to find his expression mirrored hers.
The screaming beep from the radar brought her attention sharply to the instruments in front of her.
“Bogey incoming, right on our tail.”
Wolverine’s voice was curt, clipped and completely calm. Storm looked over her shoulder.
“Strap in.”
Without waiting for her passengers to reply, she gripped the controls and whipped the jet into a stomach churning spin. Several of her teammates swore as she pulled up on the controls.
“Evasive maneuvers aren’t supposed to kill your passengers,” Wolverine grunted.
“I do not need a side seat driver, Logan, be quiet,” she replied, sending the jet into a sharp upward thrust.
After another few dives, Storm spotted the small plane that pursued them. Squinting at it in the growing dark. The sleek model was not something she was familiar with. Painted black with no distinguishing marks, she raised a brow, noting the single pilot through a narrow windowpane.
“Awful lot of guns on that thing,” Wolverine grunted, checking the scanning device.
“Yes,” she agreed, meeting the other pilot’s eyes and smirking at him. “Shall we dance?”
The masked pilot seemed to understand her, smiling even as her eyes stung with the use of her mutation.
She instantly brought clouds around them, cloaking the jet in a thick, heavy fog.
“Hold on to something,” Storm commanded her teammates.
Flipping the plane’s hydraulics off, she sent the jet into a spiraling spin, glancing at the radar that showed her adversary was directly on her tail. Slightly unnerved that no weapons lock was targeted on them yet, she dove through the air with the jet, trying to lose their pursuer.
“Somethin’ isn’t right bout this,” Rogue said, her teeth obviously clenched together.
Storm concentrated on her piloting, sending a searching thought to Jean, giving her a telepathic briefing about the situation. Her friend sent back an urgent message of her own.
“Wolverine,” Storm said quickly. “The Blue team is pursued as well as the Brotherhood.”
“Someone knew we were coming,” he answered on a growl.
“Yes, I think--”
She was cut off by the scream of the jet’s alarms. The jet gave a violent shudder, shaking so loudly that Storm was surprised it stayed in one piece at all. There was a moment of panic before the roar of the jet’s engines sputtered before going completely silent.
The other jet had cut directly in front of them making the larger plane run directly into the engines’ wake, the force knocking their own off line.
“Hold on!”
Wolverine’s voice shouted above hers as Storm frantically sent out a radio S.O.S.
“Vulture-Delta-Four this is Blackbird-Bravo-Two, our engines are disabled. Losing altitude. We are going down. Repeat. We are going down…”
The jet’s flat spin swung the passengers around, catching their breath in suddenly tight air. Unfathomable force flattened bodies to the seats, making it impossible to move.
“Get the chutes!” Storm screamed over the shriek of the air around them. The altitude monitor spun as she fought to unbuckle herself.
As she pulled on the joystick, trying desperately to regain control, she searched for the other jet, not surprised to find it was hovering several thousand feet above them. With a gasp, she pulled the parachute from the back of the pilot’s chair, strapping it on as Wolverine yanked on the lever that opened the hatch.
Several team members had already jumped by the time she managed to shove herself from her seat. A frantic call to Jean told her that they were on the way and would locate them as soon as possible after disposing of the jet above.
Logan was waiting for her at the hatch. Over the eardrum-shattering scream of the air, he shouted to her.
“Aim for that farm!” his voice was tinged with fear, though he tried valiantly to cover it. “That’s where the others are landing.”
“Logan…”
“I’m right behind ya. I promise.”
With that, Storm threw her body out of the jet, freefalling for hundreds of feet before she pulled the chute open. The enormous fabric imprinted with a giant X flew easily on the high winds, leaving her without the need to call on her mutation.
She pulled the handles quickly, moving closer to the other black parachutes. They were hundreds of miles from their intended destination. Thousands from home. Tilting her head back, she watched the other jet speed away from them.
No good will come from this.
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