Ororo adjusted the cuff of her jacket as she strode the long corridor leading to the Danger Room. She hadn’t bothered suiting up, as she was pressed for time and had no intention of engaging Logan in his ridiculous challenge, but she couldn’t in good conscience leave him in the sublevels waiting for her; no matter how much she may want to. Her mouth curved a bit at that. That man sure could rankle her, even on her best days.
She and Logan had their fair share of conflicts and clashes over the past couple of years, but in the recent months an invisible bond had begun to form between them; forged from the shared experience on Alcatraz island, the loss of their friends, and something…else. Something she refused to put a name to.
Just outside the circular doors she glanced at the gold watch on her wrist, noting it was nearly six; the grocery delivery from Finn’s should be arriving soon and if she could get Peter and Bobby to help she should be able to unload and put away with enough time to dress for her dinner with Hank.
Her last two interviews had taken longer than anticipated, but had yielded some good results. Ororo had found a music teacher that would be a welcome addition to the school. Ms. Alison Blaire had come complete with references and stacks awards, but it was her genuine enthusiasm and sparkling eyes that had sold Ororo. With that addition the staff needs were still far from met, but Ororo felt a bit more accomplished having finally hired someone. Sean Cassidy had a job as well, if he or Moira ever returned her calls. Now all she had to do was convince Logan to take on Scott’s Mechanics class, and then maybe she could foresee a light at the end of the tunnel.
With a determined toss of her silver hair Ororo strode through the doors and… wham! She felt her arm yanked forcefully and then a momentary weightlessness just before the hard, unyielding impact of the floor to her backside knocked the wind out of her. Coughing against the unexpected and abrupt loss of oxygen to her lungs Ororo glared up from her sprawled position on the floor.
Logan, with a far too amused smirk on his face, stood a few feet away with his arms casually crossed.
Clutching her chest Ororo spluttered, “You threw me.”
Logan cocked his head, a telltale glimmer of mirth in his dark eyes. “More of a toss, really.”
“What the hell was that for?”
“Gotta be prepared for anything, anytime. Ain‘t that what I heard you lecturing the other day?”
Ororo’s eyes narrowed as she rose.
He smiled.
She was not amused. “Damn it, Logan, this isn‘t a game.”
Logan chuffed. He’d heard those exact same words a few times before. ‘Damn it, Logan, blah, blah, blah’ seemed to be her favorite thing to say to him. Not that he didn’t give her reason, he admitted internally, and not without an inkling of smug satisfaction at that.
He let his gaze idly travel the ruffled headmistress as she primly dusted her backside, glaring at him. It gave him a kick to get under the ice princess’ skin. Maybe because it was a rare thing to see her at a loss, or maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was because he seemed to be the only one to do it and that meant more to him than he cared to admit.
He inclined his head, still regarding her, but his eyes were shadowed by the fall of his hair. She looked downright pissed and ready to hit him, which was what he had hoped for given the exercise that he planned to run with her. Her barely repressed fury effected him as it always did. For some unknown, unexplainable reason, he found it damn sexy. Once again, he couldn’t pin down the ‘why’ exactly, but the way her brown eyes snapped, rimmed with a darkening blue that heralded potential danger and the firm line of her too full mouth did something to him on a primitive level.
Ever sine the first time she’d gotten in his face, ordering him to fight with them for the greater good, he had felt a stirring response to her determination. He’d never really associated that response to attraction, however; until recently. After all, his lust had been for the beautiful redhead that touched him with reverence and a bit of fear, not for the woman that held herself with aloof reserve.
But somewhere along the way, that ostensible indifference Ororo had appeared to carry had changed. Faced with losing him the way she had lost Scott and the Professor, Ororo had opened up to him. She had pleaded with him not to go after Jean, giving him a glimpse at a side of her that he had never seen before, and had felt surprisingly honored to be privy to.
He remembered well that day in his room. He had cleaned everything, picked up his discarded beer cans, magazines, and clothes. He had even polished the floor before packing a bag, nearly certain that he was never to return to the school, had, in fact, been in the middle of packing a travel duffle when Ororo had come upon him. She had known where he was going before she had asked. And without preamble she had demanded of him, why he couldn’t let Jean go--although to that question too she had also known the answer. And it had been her to voice it when he had been unable to put words to the wrenching emotions inside of himself. “You love her,” She had said, and for one split second, those words had sounded pained, but then she had continued speaking, her voice less husky, less gentle, “She made her choice. Now it’s time for us to make ours. If you’re with us, then be with us.” He had known then, as he knew now, that she wasn’t issuing a command or an ultimatum, she had been asking him to stay the only way she knew how. In doing so, she had laid out the choice plainly : Jean or the team.
He chose Jean.
He knew that she would never humble herself like that again, and even though she’d had the right, she hadn’t held his foolhardy choice against him. She allowed him to suit up with her team and she had fought by his side when the time came; had lent him her strength when he needed it, and forced him to face the harsh truth about what he would have to do for them all.
When it was over, and the smoke had cleared, and the water had receded and the island had grown eerily silent, Ororo had been the first person he had seen. She hadn’t looked at him with anything other than understanding, even as he lay her best friend at her feet. She hadn’t cried then, as he had, but had simply nodded her head and reached for his hand. She had become the X-Men’s pillar of strength that day, although he knew now, it was what she had always been.
Not entirely comfortable with the track his thoughts were on, Logan shifted his weight and dropped his arms to his side. “I’m not playin’,” he responded to her sharp words. His stance was at the ready for another attack.
Ororo gave him a wary look. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it.” His smile was dangerous. And sexy.
Stop it, she scolded herself. “Logan. No.” She shook her head. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Then why did you even show up?”
“I came here because I need you.”
His expression shifted, one eyebrow shooting up in quizzical male humor.
She rolled her eyes, fighting back an answering quirk of her lips. “Mechanics still has no teacher and I need you to take the class.”
“You want me to teach?” His gaze was downright disbelieving at this point.
“Yes,” she bit out reluctantly. This made his smirk widen into a self-satisfied grin.
“Say please.”
Her jaw jutted out a bit. “Will you take the class?”
He crossed his arms once more, leaning back against the wall. “Say please,” he repeated.
Like hell, Ororo thought. She gave him a haughty look ash she started for the exit. “Forget it,” she said dismissively.
Logan sighed. He reached for her wrist as she passed. “Wait,” he said.
She paused, her eyes regarding him speculatively.
“Make ya a deal,” he offered.
She raised a brow, waiting.
“You knock me on my ass and I’ll take the class.”
Ororo wondered if she’d heard him correctly. “You want me to what?”
He repeated himself. “Take me down and I’ll take the class.”
He was serious, she realized. “Fine.” If knocking Wolverine around got her a Mechanics teacher, then knock him around she would. Besides, she’d been itching to go Zeus on him for awhile. Her eyes began to swirl.
“Without powers,” he added.
Ororo felt a flicker of irritation. She really didn’t have time for this. She had a school to run, a team to lead, teachers to hire, phone calls and parent conferences, not to mention all the day to day household things she managed. She, unlike her team mate, didn’t have the luxury of following whatever whim struck her at whatever time it did. She told him as much.
Instead of being put off, Logan gave her a tolerant smile that made her want to smack him upside the head. “All the more reason to get a little stress out. Maybe get you to loosen up a bit.”
Storm’s nostrils flared slightly; not a good sign. She took his last comment as a direct insult, though he had not intended it as such. A flash of light overhead, here and gone within a single heartbeat, caught his attention, followed by the snap of familiar thunder.
Not surprisingly, however, Ororo kept tight reign on her emotions--a trait she was notorious for. The moment the echo of thunder passed she gave him a reproachful look. “I think you’re loose enough for the both of us.”
Logan wasn’t quite sure how to take that comment so he ignored it. “Deal?” he questioned.
Ororo was about to flat out refuse him when she realized that she truly did need him to take the class. Her options were limited at the moment. “Fine,” she said, “But not tonight.”
“Why not?” he smirked. “Hot date?”
His mocking tone irked her, garnering a sharp retort. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
Completely unprepared for that response Logan was momentarily speechless.
Satisfied that she’d for once managed to silence the Wolverine, Ororo removed her wrist from his grip and sauntered out the door. They hissed open a scant moment later with Logan hot on her heels.
“You have a date?” he asked coming along beside her. His tone was almost accusatory.
Ororo cast him a sidelong glance, avoiding an outright lie. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Not really, no, he thought. “Who?” he demanded instead.
She paused, turning towards him, her arms weaving a defensive X across her chest. “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”
“It’s that government tool, isn’t it? You‘re going on a date with Captain friggin‘ Nintendo.” He looked disgusted.
Ororo blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. “You mean Forge?”
“Whatever.”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t.” he snapped.
“Well, alright then.”
“Fine!” He turned and marched away from her.
“Fine!” She called after him. Ororo threw up her hands and walked away, having no real clue as to what in the hell they had just argued about.
Back in the Danger Room Logan punched the wall in an effort to vent the sudden build up of anger he had. It was an unexpected and violent reaction that he hadn’t seen coming, to something he could not name. Not good. Not good at all. He drew in a ragged breath, straightening to his full height and cricking his neck. “Danger Room, activate. Run program 19-42-35: Wolverine.”
The walls shimmered to life, an eerie neon blue glow casting shadows as the floor and walls shifted around him and photon imagers created a fully interactive 3-D environment, that was not only visible but tangible as well.
With a roar he unsheathed his claws and leapt into the fray as mortar shells exploded all around him.
At the end of the corridor Ororo chanced a glance over her shoulder. She heard no sound because the room was soundproofed, but the vibration beneath her feet told her that Logan had activated the room. She shook her head a bit sadly. Too often Logan lost himself in that room, without teammates, without backup; facing enemies as he faced life: alone.
Although the room could be activated by any member of senior staff (which at the moment consisted only of her and Logan), the safeties could only be overridden by her. That little fact was a small comfort for her, because Ororo knew that Wolverine pushed the room to its very limits, and with it, himself.
She wished wholeheartedly that she could fend off whatever demons haunted him and give him the pieces of himself he so longed to get back. He was so full of rage, and anger that it worried her. Not for her safety, but for him. No one should live like that. He very rarely spoke of his past anymore, at least not since Stryker and Alkali, and he never spoke of Alcatraz at all. She could only imagine how much those things were eating him alive inside.
Much as she wanted to rescue him, she couldn’t. Logan was a grown man and she, well, she had other responsibilities. Pressing the button for the main lobby Ororo stepped onto the elevator leaving the lower levels and Wolverine behind.
An hour later…
Ororo, fresh from her shower and mindful of her room’s open French doors that led to her balcony, kept her robe tied around her until she reached her closet. She rifled through several layers before reaching the dress she was hunting for. She too the sleek garment off the hanger and held it up against her torso. She had bought it on a whim, and had never gotten a chance to wear it.
The fabric, a fine, fine silk was light as air and when she put it on it clung to her in all the right places, making her feel deliciously feminine. Definitely a bit racy, and definitely for tonight, she thought. La Belle Rouge was not a place to go looking frumpy or like a school teacher.
Satisfied with her choice of dress Ororo then tried on a few different shoes, settling on a pair of open toed sandals with dainty ribbons at the heel. She spared her bedroom wall clock a look and cringed. She had to get moving if she was going to make dinner on time.
Logan rubbed his towel along the back of his neck, ruffling wet strands, sending them shooting out in wild disarray. He paused beside his bed, moving the towel forward to rub his chest, drying the thick mat of hair there.
He rolled his shoulders, the left one still aching from the hit he’d taken in the Danger Room. He’d been a little too close to one of the mortar explosions and a shard of red hot metal had gone straight through at the cuff, missing his adamantium bone. He rubbed the sore muscle, mostly healed already, and his lips twisted into the semblance of a smile. Ororo would have a cow if she knew he’d found a way to override her safety protocols. She was such a nag about that shit sometimes.
A faded pair of blue jeans lay crumpled on the floor. He pulled them on before grabbing a plain white t-shirt from the bureau. He didn’t bother with shoes, he had no plans to go anywhere tonight. Unlike Storm. He frowned as he yanked open his bedroom door. She had another thing coming if she thought he would play babysitter while she was out whooping it up with pony-tail boy.
The downstairs was a bustle of activity as it usually was that time of evening. Logan caught sight of Marie and Bobby heading his way, their fingers interlocked, sans glove on Marie’s part.
Kitty was engaged in a lively discussion with Doug Ramsey on the couch against the far wall, with Jubilee and Weezie nearby, obviously trying ineffectually to follow the rapid fire debate between the two resident geeks.
Peter was on the phone, presumably with his sister in Russia and a few other students, that he couldn’t name off the top of his head, passed, keeping a healthy distance from him. He was known more from his reputation than actual interaction by most of the students and that suited him just fine.
“Logan!” Marie greeted him with her customary enthusiasm.
“Kid.” He inclined his head, but there was a tenderness in his hard gaze that was hers and hers alone. “Popsicle.”
Bobby grimaced, severely disliking the nickname that Logan had dubbed him with. He supposed it was better than Tin-Man, Wolverine’s alter ego for Peter. “Hey.”
“Wanna join us for a pizza?” Marie offered.
Logan shook his head in the negative. “You seen ‘Ro around?”
“Not since earlier,” Bobby commented with a lift of his shoulders. “She’s probably getting ready for her dinner.”
What, did everyone know that Ororo was going on a date? Logan wondered.
“Speak of the devil.” Marie murmured, motioning her head towards the staircase.
Turning, Logan felt his insides clench. Ororo was simply stunning. There really was no other word for it. Her appearance hit him with the same subtle impact of a trailer truck upside the head. He had always known she was beautiful, he had a brain and eyes, it wasn’t a big mystery, but she had never looked so…womanly before.
She was speaking to Jimmy at the foot of the stairs, not yet noticing the effect she had on him, as well as a few others, Logan noted with a sub vocal growl. He swept the room with a predatory gaze and several male eyes quickly darted away.
Ororo gave Jimmy a quick kiss on his cheek before making her way into the den where Logan and the others resided. She was speaking as she approached. “I left the number of the restaurant and the car phone on the fridge. You have my cell number, right?”
She was talking to him Logan realized dimly, his attention riveted on the smooth skin of her legs that was exposed with every step she took.
“Logan?” She was directly in front of him, amusement twinkling in her eyes. She knew he was staring and the feminine vixen in her liked it.
Logan snapped his head up, which was no real help because then he had a delightful view of her shadowed cleavage. “Huh?”
“I left the numbers in case you need to reach me,” she calmly repeated.
“I don’t recall agreeing to baby-sit.”
“I don’t recalling asking you to,” she countered with one of her dazzling smiles. “Just keep the mansion from burning to the ground, ok?” She pat him on the shoulder, walking past.
Logan inhaled reflexively. She smelled of rain and spring, and a subtle perfume that was definitely expensive.
“Don’t wait up,” she called over her bare shoulder. She was out the front doors a moment later.
“She has to meet him? What kind of jerk doesn’t pick a woman up?” Logan grumbled aloud.
Bobby gave him an odd look. “I’m sure he would have, but Mr. McCoy is pretty busy you know.”
“McCoy?”
“Yeah. That is who she’s having dinner with.” Bobby answered a bit defensively.
Logan couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, his expression confused the two younger mutants. No way was Ororo on a real date with McCoy. The fur-ball was all hot and heavy into his body guard, Logan knew. His mood, dark and tense only moments ago, lightened considerably. “Who’s up for that pizza?” he wanted to know.
Ororo was greeted at the restaurant by an eager valet. She handed him the keys to her Mazda and couldn’t help the small flare of female satisfaction she had when he walked into the door, too busy watching her to watch where he was going.
Inside the two story building low lit chandeliers illuminated expensive carpeting, tables and drapes. The entire place oozed of class and sophistication. She knew immediately why Henry liked it. A glimpse of deep indigo and a tailored suit told her where her dear friend was seated. She didn’t wait for the host to lead her to him, she simply hiked up her skirt a bit and stepped over the red velvet rope separating the waiting area from the dining area.
“Ororo.” Henry stood as she approached, his fangs gleaming stark white against his blue face. He bowed gallantly, moving around the table to embrace her. “You look breathtaking,” he commented sincerely.
She blushed. “Thank you.” She ran the flat of her hand along his lapels. “You look rather dashing yourself.”
He chuckled, a deep rumble that elicited an answering smile from her. There were very few things in life that Ororo was helpless to resist. Henry’s laugh was one of them.
With a grace that defied his size Henry maneuvered behind her and pulled out her chair. Once she was seated comfortably and Henry across from her Ororo asked, “How bad is it?”
He should have known she would be forthright. “It’s not good,” he confirmed.
Ororo nodded. “Tell me.”
With patient detail Hank explained what had transpired in the White House Situation Room. When he was finished he sat back and waited for her response. He didn’t have to wait long.
Ororo reached across the table, her smooth hand closing around his large furry one. “Thank you, Henry,” she said softly, emphatically. Ororo was moved beyond measure at what Henry had done for them. He had put his career on the line for them--again.
Hank had expected anger, and though he saw some shimmering in the chocolate depths of her eyes, her tone and expression were those of relief and gratitude. He squeezed her fingers affectionately.
“When will you be moving back in?” Ororo asked, leaning back as a waiter with red on black eyes came upon them, filling Henry’s wine glass and then hers. She smiled at the handsome young server, and he grinned back with a wink.
Henry waited until they were once again alone before answering. “Within the next week or so. I don’t dare wait too long.”
Ororo sipped the robust liquid in her glass. As expected it was a delicious bouquet; Henry was a man of many talents, she thought as she rested the glass back on the table, wine selection among them. “With Trask resigned, shouldn’t that alleviate some of the obstacles you were faced with?”
“In terms of certain White House politics, yes,” Hank agreed. “However, I fear that Trask’s position, though powerful, was the only thing that kept him in check.”
“You think he’s more dangerous now?”
Henry sighed. “Dangerous is a matter of perspective. There are those that feel Trask is protecting them, others feel he is a threat.”
“Is he?” Ororo asked softly.
“Is he which?”
“Either. Both.”
Henry smiled indulgently. “Again, that would depend on your point of view, but, in all honesty, I am concerned about the influence he has. Bolivar believes his cause is just and that he is serving the American people. He‘ll do what he believes he must--at all costs.”
Ororo cringed slightly. “Just like Magneto.” There was no greater foe than those that believed so vehemently in their cause that they were blinded to anything else.
“Let’s hope not,” Henry added.
They sat in deep silence for a moment.
Startling her, Henry rose to his feet. “Dance?”
Ororo blinked. “Don’t you think we should continue this conversation? Go over some options in case Trask does try something--”
He gripped her shoulders gently, but firmly, lifting her to her feet. “There is always time for that later,” Henry replied. “But no more tonight. You look far too lovely to be discussing such a depressing topic. It would be a shame not to see you dance. Besides, it‘s not every day that I get to make so many men jealous all at once.” His gaze flickered over the room where several heads were turned in their direction. “Consider it a favor.”
Ororo laughed lightly. “I suppose, since you put it that way. Although, it is more of a pleasure.”
Henry was smiling as he led her onto the floor. The orchestra, a large full scale ensemble, immediately switched tempo. Violin strings were caressed and a steady beat of percussion picked up. Ororo recognized a favorite song of Henry’s.
The lively tempo caused both her and her partner to grin widely. Effortlessly the duo moved into one another’s arms and Ororo followed Henry as he lead her in a circle around the marble floor, her black heels barely touching the ground as they seemed to fly around the room.
Ororo recalled Kitty’s comment of Beauty and the Beast and she laughed aloud. This certainly seemed reminiscent of the Disney film, although she and Hank were far more provocative she thought as one thick arm draped her backwards in a sensual dip.
Henry carried himself with a natural confidence that Ororo was certain transferred into the bedroom. If she was right, then Alicia Vargas was one very lucky woman. She whispered as much into his ear, making him laugh without restraint, the baritone sound a delight to her ears.
When the dance was finished Henry led her from the floor by her hand, ever the gentleman. “I believe this evening calls for some sherry, don’t you?”
“I hardly think the occasion calls for celebration,” Ororo responded.
“And why not? Despite the egregious circumstances behind the move, I’ll soon be in the Mansion once more on a more permanent basis. We could call it a homecoming celebration.”
Ororo lifted her eyebrow. “Mmmhm.”
He could tell she was wavering. “When was the last time you let your hair down and relaxed, Ororo?”
She couldn’t recall.
Henry raised his hand for the waiter. “I’ll have my driver bring you home.”
Ororo decided to hell with it. She could be responsible in the morning. Tonight Storm took a backseat and Ororo was free to be herself. “Sherry it is.”
The mansion was quiet when she returned home; and dark. She bit her lip as her toe stubbed quite hard in the entry. She hopped on one bare foot, a curse escaping on a harsh whisper, her shoes dangling from her fingers. She gave the offending threshold an angry glare, jiggling her keys from the handle.
Slowly she eased the large front door closed, making a tight face until she heard the latch catch. She punched her six digit security code into the alarm system, re-arming the house. She was tiptoeing towards the stairs when a gruff voice made her gasp.
“’Bout time you got home.”
“Logan.” Ororo turned, a bit too quickly in her inebriated state, towards the man in the den doorway.
He stepped forward quickly, grasping her arm to help her balance. “You’re drunk,” he announced, surprised.
“I prefer the term intoxicated,” she corrected with a lopsided smile that did strange things to his insides.
“How was your date?” he asked.
Ororo’s smile was bright. “I danced.”
Logan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Did ya now?”
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and swayed towards him, one arm looping around his neck. “How come you never ask me to dance?” she murmured.
Would a horizontal dance count? He wondered. Because damn if that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He stepped back, putting some distance between them.
Ororo blinked slowly. “Did you wait up for me?” she questioned with a confused frown.
Logan shook his head. “I’m a night owl. You know that.”
“Oh.”
Did she sound disappointed? He squelched that question. Not flamin’ likely. She would most probably be royally pissed that he was seeing her in such a state.
“Tired,” she said quietly.
Logan was about to tell her to go to bed, when she started to wander away from him, her voice, soft, carrying to him.
“So tired,” she continued on her aimless journey. One hand waving idly at her side. “Too much, not enough, but never right.”
“’Ro…?” He followed her.
She dropped her shoes on the floor, forgotten. Barefoot she padded the long hallway, past the stairs, past the classrooms. She was headed to the garden, Logan realized. He was briefly unsure as to whether or not he should follow her out, but the not too subtle stagger of her stride told him he ought to.
She flung aside the sliding glass door carelessly. The grass was cool and welcome against the balls of her feet. Ororo tilted her head back, allowing the night breeze to caress her exposed flesh and giving Logan an enticing view of the curve of her throat.
He looked away and swallowed again. It wasn’t right, his reaction to her. He had better learn to fight it off before she caught on and fried his ass. What he really should do was go get laid. That should take the edge off and then he could go back to seeing her as just a teammate.
Not a woman. Not a sexy, lithe, well formed…Jesus.
He stopped trekking behind her, letting her shape disappear into the shadows of the garden. He’d wait for her there. It was safer--for both of them--if he stayed behind.
Ororo, oblivious to the man trailing her, or his thoughts, followed the well cut path through the bushes and flowers to the three monuments set away on the back lawn. She passed Xavier’s large monument with a loving touch of her hand, cast Scott’s a tender look, but it was the redhead’s grave that had Ororo’s full attention.
“Never right,” she repeated her montage quietly. She didn’t bother to keep the anger from her voice. “I spent my entire adolescence watching Charles and Scott trying so hard to please you. Trying to help you see how wonderful you were. How special. Doing their best to make sure you never forgot that,” she hissed at the silent tombstone. “Nothing they did was ever enough for you though, was it?”
She waved her hands dramatically, as if to encompass the entire estate. “You had it all. Beauty, intelligence, friends, a family. Two! Two families! And it still wasn’t enough. Charles loved you like a daughter, and Scott, Scott loved you more than anything! They would have given you the world had you asked for it, and how do you repay them? You killed them, you ungrateful bitch!”
She had never sworn at Jean in her life, and Ororo paused, almost shocked at the words coming out of her mouth. But now that the floodgates were open she couldn’t seem to stop. “And then there’s Logan. Do you have any idea what you’ve put him through? The hell he goes through knowing that he killed you. But that wouldn’t matter to you, would it? So long as you got what you wanted. It was always about you. Always. And you never cared!”
Thunder rumbled overhead, low and deep, a building to something greater.
“Whoa.” Logan’s head lifted up. Ozone was alive in the air and the hairs on his body began to rise. He moved forward hurriedly through the garden maze until Ororo came back into view.
What he saw pulled him up short. Ororo was standing in front of the graves, lightning snapping from her hair and eyes. She looked beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Logan moved toward her. “That’s enough, Storm,” he barked worried that she may inadvertently hurt herself.
Ororo snapped her head around, her eyes glowing bright in the darkness. “Still her protector, even in death,” she whispered, more to herself than him.
She‘d misunderstood his reaction. “Storm--”
“Was she worth it?” Her voice cracked, but her composure held.
Logan tensed, but faced her head on.
“Answer me, Wolverine. Was she worth it? Worth the lives? The destruction? The pain? Was she worth it?”
Logan’s eyes captured and held hers, his unguarded sincerity a fleeting thing that she would remember for the rest of her life. “Every bit of it.”
Her shoulders slumped and her anger vanished. Sad brown eyes blinked away a sheen of tears. “I thought so too,” she whispered. She tried to brush past him, but he was having none of that.
Logan caught Ororo by her shoulders, turning her to face him. “No. You need to do this.”
She shook her head. “She’s dead, Logan. She can’t hear me.”
“Prove it.”
Ororo almost smiled at that. Given the history of the X-Men it was not entirely improbable that somewhere Jean could hear her.
“Wolverine--”
He turned her back towards the tombstones. “Don’t do it for her,” he said next to her ear, his warm breath stirring the faint hair there. “Do it for you.” He nudged her forward.
Ororo hesitated, her eyes shifting between Logan and the grave.
He took his cue. “I’ll be inside.” He was halfway back to the mansion when he heard Ororo’s soft voice say, “I should hate you. I want to hate you. God, I’ve tried to hate you. But I don’t. I can’t. I loved you too much to hate you…”
Forty minutes later Ororo stepped back through the sliding glass door. Her eyes were faintly red rimmed and she smelled of tears, but she was smiling slightly.
Logan stood up from the small end-table he was seated on.
She stepped toward him. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” she whispered
“I know.”
“Thank you.”
He reached out with his hand and cupped her jaw with one rough palm. “Anytime.” Moonlight cast his face in unforgiving shadows but Ororo was certain she had never seen anything more appealing.
“You should get to bed,” he suggested after a lengthy pause.
“I thought you might like to kiss me,” she murmured softly, her brow furrowing.
Logan repressed a groan. There was nothing more that he would like to do than to kiss her senseless, but he knew that she was in a vulnerable position, having just laid herself bare at Jean’s grave and being more than a bit tipsy.
“Of course,” she whispered, leaning closer. “I could always kiss you, and then blame the alcohol.”
Logan could only resist so much temptation. With a small growl he pulled her up close to his chest, his fingers threading through her hair. “Just remember who asked who for what,” he said as his mouth came down on hers.
