“Sonuvabitch!” He pulled Ororo’s head into his neck, covering her as best he could. “Are you hurt?” Logan demanded the second his ears stopped ringing. His hands roamed across her head and shoulders, assuring himself that she was unharmed.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “What about you?” She pulled a sliver of glass from the thick flesh of his bicep, causing him to wince. She sent it skittering across the floor with the rest of the debris.
“I’ve lived through worse.” He straightened away from the wall, sniffing the air. “Be back.” With that he pressed a hard kiss to her lips and tore off towards her balcony, leaping the distance to the ground without so much as a stagger to slow him down; heedless of the fact that he had only his checkered boxers for cover.
Ororo shook her head, both marveling and fuming over his reckless, headlong rushes into danger. The majority of the time the man emerged without a scratch on him, only his clothes the worse for wear, but that fact alone was not enough to staunch the worry seeping through her veins.
“Storm! Help!” Students’ frantic calls could be heard in the hallway, snatching her attention from her musing. Tearful whimpering was followed by the voices of some of the older students trying to reign in the younger, scared ones.
With one last quick glance over her shoulder Ororo jerked open her bedroom door and strode out into the hall. Emergency generators had already kicked in, and thankfully they weren’t stranded by the darkness. With her acclaimed cool and efficiency she immediately set about the task of soothing and tending her charges. “Everyone stay calm! Stick together. Everything will be all right. Kitty,” She grabbed the young woman as she passed her.
“Yeah?” The young brunette was clearly ruffled, but admirably composed.
“Start a headcount for me.” A quick visual count assured Storm that most, if not all, of the students would be accounted for, but she wanted to be certain.
“On it!”
Next Ororo flagged down their resident behemoth. “Peter!”
The tall Russian stepped forward. “Da?”
“Secure the front doors and check the lobby for any wandering students, or unwanted guests.”
A single nod, a ripple of steel, and he was off.
Bobby came towards her, shouldering his way through the scared throng of students amassed in the hallway, followed closely by Marie. “What can we do?”
“Start herding everyone to the lower levels.” She paused, worry creasing her brow. She surveyed the group. “Where the hell is Hank?”
Marie shook her head. “We didn’t see him when we came up.”
Ororo digested that. “Get everyone into the lower levels. Tell Sean to safeguard the Danger Room.” She was already heading towards the offices.
“What about you?” Bobby called after her.
“Storm can handle herself, Bobby. Let’s do as she says and get these kids to safety.” Marie urged him, her voice stronger than he’d heard it in a while, her demeanor fierce.
“You can take the powers out of the mutant, but can’t take the X-Man out of the girl,” he quipped with a smirk.
Marie elbowed him, but her telltale blush told him she took his words as complimentary. Hands interlaced they began shepherding the students down the emergency stairwell.
“Hank!” Ororo jogged down the main stairwell, her pace indicative of her worry. “Hank!” She spotted a light streaming from his ajar office door. “Henry!” She broke into a run, shoving the door open with her shoulder, prepared to fend off any would-be attackers.
There were none, but the scene that greeted her said there had been. On the floor, a pool of blood seeping from an open scalp laceration, Hank McCoy lay groaning, and barely conscious. “Oh, God.” Ororo dropped to her knees, checking her friend‘s pulse.
“Nnnn…Storm…?”
“Yeah, Big Blue, it’s me.” Satisfied that his wound was fairly superficial and non-fatal, Ororo rocked back on her heels surveying the tossed office. “What happened?”
“Raven…attacked me…my-my files…” Hank lifted on hand weakly in the direction of his adjacent room.
Ororo swore, bolting to her feet. She knew, without entering the normally secured room, that she was too late. Raven, and the X-Men files, were long gone. “Shit, shit, shit!” She dug her hands into her hair, frustration causing the air surrounding her to crackle; alive with sparks of electricity. She slammed the open safe door shut, the metal clanging. One glance at the mockingly blank screen of Henry’s computer monitor told her that her fears were accurate.
All of their files were gone. Every danger room session, every counseling session with Xavier, every strength and weakness that made up the X-Men; gone. She felt an involuntary, bone-chilling shiver of dread from her head to her feet.
Hearing Henry’s muted groan Ororo hurriedly returned to his main office to find him struggling to sit up.
“Did she get them?” he asked, visually upset, swaying slightly.
She helped him to his feet. “Yes.”
“Damn it.” He shook his head as though to clear it. “I’m so sorry, Ororo, if I hadn‘t insisted she stay here--”
She held up one hand, eyes rimmed arctic white. “Save the apologies for later. Get yourself to the med-lab and take care of that cut.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Me? I’m going to find that bitch.”
Smoldering bricks lay scattered across the courtyard, chunks of pavement and soil torn up from the ground by the force of impact. Logan crouched, fingertips following the subtle shape of the ground, calculating the trajectory of the explosion with an instinct and training he cared not to dwell on.
He tilted his head back, inhaling the night air. The faint smell of gunpowder hung heavy. Not professional, whoever they were. Professionals didn’t use such archaic explosive methods. Or, at least they didn’t want to appear professional. He wasn’t foolish enough to assume anything.
One hand released the metal weapons housed beneath the skin. Logan prowled along the drive, listening for any sounds that may indicate he wasn’t alone, but he suspected the perps long gone. The moment his bare feet had struck ground after he leapt from the balcony he had heard tires squealing.
He moved purposefully towards the iron gates. The undamaged iron gates. Someone had let the attackers in and he didn’t need three guesses to figure out who it had been. “Mystique,” he growled, anger causing the timbre of his voice to become more snarl than anything. He took a deep breath, cataloguing the scents, detecting the faint, but discernable aroma that was the former blue mutant confirming his suspicion.
“Logan!”
He turned to see Storm approaching. With her halo of white hair, flowing nightdress and eyes illuminating the dark, she looked very much like a mythical deity. It was a wonder it had taken him so long to see her, he thought, watching the graceful sway of her hips.
“Looks like Mystique made a breakout,” he informed her.
She stopped a few feet from him, tension oozing from her every pore. “Yes. Raven attacked Henry and made off with some files.”
Logan growled again. “The Fur-ball--?”
“Henry is fine.” She assured him. “Any sign of them?”
“No. I’m guessing it was a quick distract and run job.” He stated as matter of fact. “She’s probably long gone.”
One slender hand pressed against her forehead. “It never ends,” she whispered. “It’s always something.”
Logan reached for her. “Hey, hey,” he tugged her gently into his arms. “C’mere.”
Ororo allowed herself to take a momentary solace against Logan’s warmth. She tucked her head under his chin, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. “I’ve got to protect them, Logan. It’s my job to protect them.”
“And you do it well,” he told her.
She made a sound that seemed trapped between laugh and hiccup. “Ha! They got to Jimmy. They attacked our home.” She stepped out of the protective circle of his arms. “I’m tired of running from these people; of hiding from them. Terrified of when the next attack will come.”
Something in her voice made him wary. “What’re ya sayin’ ’Ro?”
“I’m saying Raven was the last straw. I’m saying I want Jimmy back. I’m saying I want anyone that does harm to this school to be sorry they crawled their way out of their mother’s womb.” Each word dripped with icy resolve. “I’ll find whoever helped Mystique and the people that have Jimmy if I have to tear the entire city apart to do it.”
Logan nearly laughed. Damn, she could be downright terrifying when she wanted to be. No wonder Charles had trusted his school into her care. “Babe, you’re angry, with definite reason to be, but I don’t think you wanna do anything hasty like plow through an entire city just to find some assholes.”
Ororo cocked her head at him, one brow arched, and a hint of humor in her flickering eyes. “Is the unpredictable, fly-off-the-handle-fight-on-a-whim Wolverine trying to talk reason into me?”
He shrugged, giving her a gentle brush across her hair. “Naw. Just thinkin’ about the liability claims we’d bury Fur-Ball in.”
“Uh-huh.” Ororo felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Who knew Logan could be so…endearing?
Seeing the slight curve of her lips Logan asked, “What’re ya thinkin’?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.” She linked her fingers through his. “Let’s get back inside. I’d like to get the students settled and back in their rooms and put you in some pants so that we can focus on finding Mystique.” She gave his boxers a pointed glance.
He winked at her. “Y’know, most women try to get me out of my pants.”
Ororo rolled her eyes, but found it hard to fight her grin. “I’m not most women.”
He cupped her cheek, bending his head so that his lips breathed across hers. “No. You aren’t.”
Despite the chaos of the evening, being with Logan, having him tease her, having him touch her, made her feel right. Ororo smiled as familiar warmth tingled through her body at the stroke of his lips, then, to her shock and horror, that warmth was replaced by horrible, excruciating pain.
Logan jerked, startled when Ororo’s knees buckled and she sagged against him, a small gasp of air her only sound of distress. “’Ro!” He grabbed her, keeping her from hitting the pavement. Warm stickiness coated his hands and for a fraction of a second time froze and he stood completely confused, then in a blink everything fast forwarded, ramming senses together. A whisper of sound; a whistle on the wind; metal meeting flesh; the smell of blood.
Sniper.
“No! No! No!” Logan grappled with Ororo’s limp form, hauling her towards the safety of the Institute, shielding her as he had done in the bedroom. He expected more shots to be fired, but to his relief, and later fury, none were. He swore, violently. Positioned as they were he couldn’t move her as quickly as he needed to. With a grimace he shifted Ororo’s weight, pulling her tight to his side, wrapping one of his arms across her back, and pulling her arm around his neck, and shackling the wrist with his hand.
“Logan…” Her voice was strained, edged with pain.
Blood coated his forearm. He forcibly repressed a sound that was painfully close to a howl. “Hang on, baby. Please. Almost there.” Never had the driveway to Xavier’s appeared so long and twisted. The short walk up the hill seemed to take forever.
“Ororo, are you with me?”
She made a muffled sound against his shoulder.
“Ok, we’re at the steps. Here we go.” He turned them so that he was using his torso to hold as much of her weight as possible. He stumbled backwards through the foyer door, with Ororo sprawled across his chest. “HAAAAAANK!”
Peter Rasputin stepped down from the stairwell. “Storm!”
“Where the fuck is Hank? Find him! Find him right fuckin‘ now!” Logan demanded, choking back another grief stricken sound of rage and fear.
Peter took off running.
Logan pressed his lips to Ororo’s head. “Baby, you still with me?”
He felt her small nod. “Sh-shouldn’t…yell…at Peter…”
Of course she’d reprimand him for that. “He’s a big boy,” he murmured. She was sweating profusely but he could feel the shivers wracking her body. She was going into shock.
Rage threatened to consume him, and would have, had she not needed him.
Her fingers twitched involuntarily. “So…weak…hurts…” She sagged further.
Logan tightened his hold. “Hang on to me, okay, darlin’. Just hold onto me.” He shifted again, blood causing his arm to slip. She cried out. He felt hot tears scald his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said. “So fuckin’ sorry.”
Where the hell was Hank?
The elevator doors dinged open. “Logan!” A head bandaged Henry emerged, followed by Peter pushing a stretcher. “What happened?”
“She was shot,” Logan ground out. “Fuckin’ cowards shot her in the back!”
Henry looked appalled. “Quickly, get her on the stretcher. Lay her on her left side.”
Logan hated to move her again, but knew he had to. “Ok, ‘Ro, I’m going to lift you up.”
No response. Her breathing was shallow and he could hear how thready her pulse was.
Logan felt icy fingers of fear grip his heart. He lifted her as gently as he could, laying her on the stretcher, giving him his first real look at her wound. Crimson stained the back of her gown, soaking the material, causing it to cling to her skin. A broken sound escaped his throat.
He touched his fingertips to her cheek, withdrawing his hand immediately when he realized it was covered in her blood. “Please,” he whispered. Please, what, he didn’t know, all he knew was he was willing to beg for her to be all right.
“Logan, step back.” Henry ordered, his tone crisp and efficient. “We need to get her to the med-lab. She’ll want you by her side, I’m sure.”
There was no way he wouldn’t be there. “Someone needs to do a sweep of the grounds-“
“I will,” Peter volunteered. He rippled steel once more. “Let them take a shot at me.”
Logan nodded curtly, acknowledging the younger man, but his eyes never left Ororo.
“Here we go,” Henry pulled his end of the stretcher towards the elevator doors.
“What in hell were you thinking?” Bolivar Trask demanded.
One raven’s wing dark eyebrow rose. “What?”
“Killing one of the X-Men was not in the plan!”
Raven Darkholme shrugged her shoulders, the thin straps of her blood red dress slipping down her arms. “I can’t believe you of all people are complaining that I decided to get rid of Storm.”
Trask gave her a hard look. “It’s not the fact that you took her out, Raven, it’s the consequences of that action that I will hold you personally responsible for.”
She seemed unconcerned. “What consequences?”
Bolivar poured himself a drink. “You just severed the only tether we had keeping the Wolverine in check.”
Raven snorted. “You think anyone can keep that man on a leash?”
Bolivar lowered his glass. “She could.”
Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Well, now she’s dead.”
“You seem inordinately pleased with that fact, Raven. Your petty jealousy may very well have jeopardized my future plans.”
“Whatever.” She uncrossed her long legs and stood. “I held up my end of the deal.” She gestured to the files and disks on his desk. “Now you keep yours. Give me the antidote.”
A cruel smile twisted Bolivar’s lips. “Why on earth would I do that?”
Raven blinked, anger simmering in her blue eyes. “Because that was our deal. I got you inside information on Xavier’s little helpers and now you give me the antidote to the Cure.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I am not a woman you want to double cross, Trask.”
“Oh, believe me, I know.”
“Then give me the goddamn antidote!”
“I’m afraid that’s just not possible.”
“Give it to me!” She nearly shouted.
Bolivar took another drink. “I would, dear, dear Raven, if there was one.”
In that moment Raven realized that she had been truly and well played. “You bastard.”
“And then some,” he acknowledged.
“I should kill you where you stand,” she swore.
“If I were you, I would be very nice to me, Raven.” He smiled solicitously. “After all, I’m the only friend you’ve got.”
“We need to transport her to a hospital.” Henry pulled off his surgical mask and tugged at his gloves. “The bullet is lodged too deep. I can’t get it on my own.” His eyes showed weary sadness. “Without Charles or Jean to assist, I’m afraid I’ll do more damage than good.”
Logan gave Ororo’s still form a lingering look. “Is she stable enough for transport?”
Henry avoided answering directly. “She’s a strong woman.”
Logan didn’t miss the evasiveness of that answer. He lifted Ororo’s hand to his lips. “She’s a fighter. She’ll pull through.” He refused to believe anything else.
Across the stretcher Henry began to pray.
