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She doesn’t feel neurotic when they are this close but sometimes she replaces his hands on her hips, because when he touches her there she cannot deny the sense of security. Her legs burn and his breath comes in gasps, he says her name as if it were a prayer that has always gone unanswered. Here, in this moment she does not fear that he has ever loved another more than he loves her and that her love, that surmounts the affection that she has had for any other does not make her feel small.
The idea is not ever voiced, not even in her mind; she dismisses it so quickly that it is as elusive as the girl that she once fancied her daughter. However, no matter how ethereal the thought her miniscule jealousy of Jean Grey or Mariko and every other woman who has known the touch and the affection of this grizzly man is still a picturesque vision in her minds eye. She can dismiss the words --mental or otherwise-- that give form to these thoughts, yet the visions of his fantasies of them are not underwhelming.
She does not know that he often considers his feelings for these other women, women that he found to be leagues beneath her. It would not ever be evident to her, a woman that has never felt pretty, that he transferred his love to Jean Grey (her best friend) or Mariko (someone like her, in responsibility, but lacking in fundamental characteristics) to be closer to her, someone that he felt would ultimately reject him.
How could he forsake natural human instincts, setting aside vanity, becoming weak to make himself all that she deserves in a companion: Something totally different from what he had been programmed for most of his life to be; a murderer, a man who fights but rarely for cause. For years he never left her side but his affections did not wane, he felt himself hating even her because his love grew so strong, so nagging.
He sits up abruptly, shivering, feeling the culmination of his affection and wrapping his arms tightly around her, praying to any god that would have this beseech, that existing in her regard is not fleeting.
Logan leans back, his hug is softer, more loose and she leans with him, rolling onto her side and scooting her body down to rest her head on his chest, silently inviting him to play with her hair.
Later that night she and Logan meet Jean, Scott, Remy, Rogue, Kitty and Kurt at Harry’s for burgers, beer and pool. Ororo is known for her observational skills more than her prowess as a casual conversationalist. It isn’t in her nature to open up, even with these people who serve as her family. However, with Jean Grey she feels comfortable bearing her soul, having a confidence with her that she could not ever imagine investing into another.
They’re in the small women’s restroom, Jean looks into Ororo’s eyes through the reflection in the mirror.
“Is it Logan?” Jean asks, leaning closer to the mirror and leaning on her left arm.
Ororo had not shared or admitted to her affair with Logan to anyone but she was not surprised that her psychic, best friend knew. Not that Jean Grey would glean a single thought from her mind, although no one would even know if she did, her sense of morality is to firm to ever do such a thing; a crime akin to rape.
“Goddess,” Ororo responds, exasperated, placing both hands on the sink’s countertop, shoulders lifted, the full weight of her upper body on her arms. She lets her head hang forward, looking down the draining he sink. “Why do I hate him Jean?”
“Hate him?”
“I feel like he has done something to me; I have always had,” She pauses, considering her words, “intentions but now everything is muddy. I doubt him, I’m jealous of anyone he has ever loved. Sometimes I cannot even stand you!”
Jean blinks, tilts her head, and allows a slight smirk but removes the expression quickly.
Ororo begins to cry and Jean moves comfort her but she raises her hand in a casual but halting manner.
“I know,” she says through the tears. “I know that this seems so juvenile and why can I not just be happy? It does not seem like something to fall apart over but Logan, I love Logan with every pore in my body, more than anything I ever thought that I could love and Jean, I am afraid that if you were to express an interest in him that he would jump at the opportunity.”
“Ororo, I would never…”
“I know that you have no designs toward Logan, ” Ororo interjects, lowering her head again and covering just her eyes with the closed fingers on her left hand. “It is not about something that I believe that you would do with Logan, it is about the possibilities.”
Jean reaches, taking Ororo’s busy hand and cupping it her own as if it is cold.
“He never loved me Ororo,” Jean confesses, looking into her friends eyes emphatically. “Not in the fashion that he loves you or that I love Scott. He cared for me, yes, but that is not love and even if it could be called that, it’s nothing in comparison to what he feels for you. I don‘t need to read minds to see this Storm.”
“I’m an idiot.” she replies, reclaiming her hand to wipe her eyes and looking at the two girls that enter the restroom watching her evasively.
“They’re starring because you’re a giant.”
Storm laughs, surprised at the soreness in her throat.
She feels outside of herself, it isn’t in her nature to fall apart like this; if anything her past has helped fortified an ability to steel herself against these kinds of outbursts. In this case she feels overwhelmingly frustrated with no outlet. No matter how overly punishing she is to enemies on the battlefield or those in the danger room she is stifled by the repercussions of her powers.
“Don’t be tragic,” Jean says, looking at her intently.
They leave the restroom, no visual or proof in demeanor of the mini-crises left unsolved.
“There ain’t that much powder in the world, sugah.” Rogue says, looking to them.
Ororo considers Rogue and Remy’s proximity to one another, it’s as if they are two piecing fitting perfectly into the others nooks. He holds her so close.
Why when the dangers are more immediate, more catastrophic for the two of them does she find herself claustrophobic when ever Logan embraces her in a nature akin theirs? She scoots herself close to her love, closer than before she left, clutching his hand beneath the table and sitting it on the tabletop. Advertising to their family that everything that they have been whispering about, all of the rumors, are true.





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