Chapter Fifteen: Shard
Ain't no other man can stand up next to you
Ain't no other man on the planet does what you do
You're the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon
You got soul, you got class
You got style, you're bad ass
Ain't no other man, it's true
Ain't no other man but you
~Christina Aguilera
Soft, irregular notes wafted through the empty corridor. The music halted, silence giving way to the muted thud and soft twang of a guitar tuning. It began again seconds later, accompanied by a clear female voice.
“I can’t go back to the way things were, who knows if I’d even want to. My life has changed, for the better I’m sure. But without you, it all comes down. Without you… Damn it.”
She stopped her fingers, silencing the shivering strings by flattening her palm. Alison leaned over from her perch on the wide, sunny window seat, crossing out lines of music and lyrics from the notebook beside her. It had been a while since she’d written anything new. Even before her involvement with the X-Men, she’d been running on a long dry spell.
But the bug had bitten. Hard. Ali had always dealt with her emotions by writing. Anger, fear, lust, emotional clarity, she could belt it out of her into song. Cheaper than therapy. Hell, most of her songs were bread and butter to the young musician.
She plucked at the guitar strings again, letting an uncharacteristically soft, gentle melody drift from the battered instrument.
“I know I’ve been a wild girl, I’ve painted every town red, but you make me feel like a woman, better off at home in bed. I can’t get passed this feeling, that everything’s right here before me. I can’t let go of loving you, I don’t think I know how.”
The music stopped again, this time making Ali smile. She marked down a change in chord before going back to her guitar.
“Have I been mistaken? Have I tried too hard? Can I live without you? Yeah, I think I could. But it would be a lonely place, lying here without you. I don’t want to go back. Don’t let me fall.”
From her perch on the seat, Ali could see Piotr helping Beast outdoors. The two were busily laying down hedging for the garden, smiling and content in one another’s presence. Ali shifted, stretching her legs out on the cushioned seat. Sunlight beamed merrily through the windowpane, warming her almost as much as the thought of Piotr did.
How it had happened “ and so quickly “ was a distant unknown. She had not come here with the intention of falling ass over elbows for the stoic Russian. She felt it happening, how her heart was steadily reaching out for his. There was no stopping it, even if she were afraid or unsure.
But she wasn’t. She adored her Mother Russia more than was probably healthy. His stubbornness, his loyalty, and even that damned stony silence. She’d gotten used to his mental time outs, knowing he liked taking time before acting or speaking.
Course, she dearly loved making him be impulsive.
He laughed at something Beast said. At the window, Ali strummed her guitar again, not bothering to think about what she was playing.
A dark male laugh and running footsteps made Ali turn slightly from the window. She never stopped playing, even as Storm and Wolverine darted past her toward the bedroom everyone knew they were sharing. Neither of them spared the musician even a tiny hint of acknowledgement. She shook her head, leaning back against the edge of the seat as she continued playing.
Apparently spring was in full swing here at Mutant High. Ali chuckled to herself, going back to her music.
~**~
The rending of material echoed in the relative silence. She yanked his t-shirt apart, desperate for the feel of his warm flesh under her fingers. He groaned loudly, muttering a bastardized prayer into the hollow of her throat.
Her body was on fire, that was the only explanation. Logan constantly stoked that fire, built it up from dying embers until it raged wildly. She fisted one hand in the coarse black of his hair, pulling his head up so she could capture his lips with hers.
Logan’s hands smoothed greedily over her cloth-covered curves. Ororo did not have to guess how long it would take him to rid them of any barriers. One thing Wolverine did not have in spades was patience. He took things, lovingly or hard, but he took them. She found, quite by surprise, that his penchant for sexual robbery was a turn on.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” her lover whispered huskily into the quiet.
Unable to respond as he pulled her shirt over her head, Ororo only gasped. His hands covered suddenly bare breasts, massaging them together as he bent his head to lave at the taut peaks. Ororo’s eyes slammed closed, her body bowing off of the bed in a desperate attempt to get closer.
She clawed at his shoulders, raking long nails over sweat-slicked flesh. Logan took one of her throbbing nipples into his mouth, suckling lustily and driving all thought from her mind. Ororo forced her hands from his shoulders, wiggling them between their straining bodies to fumble with the large buckle holding his belt together.
“I want you.” She whimpered into his ear. He growled softly. “I want you, Logan.”
Something about her saying his name always snapped some hidden control inside of him. He released her breasts, rearing up to flick his belt open. While he discarded his jeans, Ororo took a long look at him, lust brimming in her belly like a living thing.
He was all man; there was no other way to describe it. All broad muscle and dark hair. She knew his body nearly as well as her own. Little secrets had been discovered “ and exploited “ in the dead of night or bright sunlight. Whenever she could, Ororo had her hands on their resident feral.
“Stop that,” he demanded, the twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.
Ororo arched a thin light brow, leaning up on her hands and saucily scooting back on the messy bed. “What?”
“Quit lookin’ at me like you’re gonna eat me alive.”
“Oh, but I am,” she teased as he gripped the hem of her skirt. He peeled it from her hips, down her thighs quickly, as though he were unwrapping a present.
When he dropped that impossibly sexy mouth to her caramel flesh, Ororo’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her panties were pulled down as the skirt had been while Logan licked a hot, wet path along her inner thigh. Sniffing sounds preceded the curve of a smile against her flesh even as his fingers found her.
Logan groaned as thick digits parted slick folds. Ororo gasped, letting her head fall back as her hips arched eagerly into his hand. He shifted on the bed, his hard length resting against her thigh. Ororo squirmed, even as one of those talented fingers dipped inside of her.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, thrusting her hips so she was nearly humping his hand like a bitch in heat.
“Like that?” He questioned against her stomach, where he’d been placing several innocent kisses.
Trembling hands flexed against sweaty shoulder, even as she undulated wildly. “Yes.”
“How bout this?” His teasing tone was muffled, his mouth covering the ache between her thighs.
“Logan!”
He found her immediately, knowing her body as intimately as she had been schooled in his. Manipulating her with the finesse of an expert, Logan feasted. He took and gave and brought her to the brink under his skillful attentions within seconds.
Ororo tossed and turned on the pillows. It wasn’t enough. Knowing he was her lover, how well he could handle her body, her moods…it wasn’t enough.
Thought was shoved with force from her mind as Logan slithered up the length of her body. Her lips fused to his, fiercely and with unspoken demand. There was no going back for either of them, there had not been since the first night they tumbled into her bed, lying chastely in each other’s arms.
His tongue, coated with her taste, dove inside to duel madly with hers. Ororo bent her knees, drawing them up and forcing her beloved feral to settle between her thighs. She gasped at the intimate contact, his arousal jutting against her wet, aching flesh.
He was inside, deep and hard, before she could catch her breath. It left her lungs on a long, shuddering sigh. Heavy arms slid beneath her, encircling her back and drawing her shaking body completely into his. She could feel the mad tattoo of his heart against hers, not surprised to find the beats in perfect unison.
Holding her as though she were precious, Logan began to move. Their fast and furious passion simmered, allowing them to take their time. Ororo wanted him so badly it nearly brought her to tears, but his soft, gentle, almost achingly tender lovemaking swelled her heart. His arms were salvation, protection, home.
She didn’t know what she would do if he ever let go. Terrified by the wayward thought, Ororo wrapped her arms and legs around him, anchoring him to her.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered as he slid in and out of her in perfect rhythm.
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”
They rose and fell together, sighed and gasped, whispered soft words of affection as their bodies collided. There was no rush, no lingering fear. Here in this moment, they were two people falling recklessly in love.
Oh, Ororo thought as she crested. I love you, Logan.
Waves of pleasure crashed through her, mimicked in the body loving hers with tenderness and demand. His pace increased, the bedsprings whined as he drove into her again and again. She lifted herself, wanting to melt into his body and take up residence there. Her heart swelled and burst as she tumbled off the edge again, this time taking him with her.
Logan laid her back gently, nuzzling her nose with his as they grew limp and hazy with afterglow. Ororo clung to him still, unable to release him. She was in love with him. All those months of sniping and griping…they were wasted. This man owned her heart, understood her at a core she hadn’t been aware of.
This man belonged to her.
“Hey,” Logan whispered, sounding somewhat alarmed. “Hey, you’re shakin’. What’s wrong?”
Unable to speak without letting emotion choke her tone, she exhaled sharply. Pulling her love closer, holding him more tightly, she fought to control herself.
Since the arrival of Bishop, so much had changed. Would she and Logan have found one another without him? She liked to think so. Even as she clutched his sweat-slicked frame to hers, she wanted to believe that this would have been her fate no matter what. She and Logan had fought for months, lashing out against an attraction neither wanted to admit was even there.
Ororo’s hand smoothed over the back of his head, lost in the coarse locks. She kissed his cheek. She knew the dangers coming into this. Logan could be a free spirit, went with the changes in the wind. As Charles had told her that fateful day, she knew better than anyone how fast the weather can change.
But her heart told her that Logan was devoted and loyal. He was not prone to abandonment.
“Ororo.” He let the name roll off his tongue and Ororo opened her eyes.
“Well,” she said, her voice stronger than she expected. “I think I’m going to have to marry you.”
Logan pulled back, dumping her head back onto the pillows. To her inner delight, he never released her, keeping his arms and body interlocked with hers.
The look on his face was priceless. Stunned, shocked, and somewhat amused.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mmm,” she hummed in the affirmative. “As I cannot seem to get you out of my system, it is the only choice.”
Humor sparkled in his eyes, barely covering what she detected as hope and adoration. That kind of look could turn a girl into Jell-O.
“Yeah? Well, maybe I’m already sick of ya.”
She knew better, reveling in this seldom seen playful side of him. “That might work on your other girls, but I see you, Logan.”
His hold became fierce, tightening as his eyes reflected mischievous anger and yet more amusement.
“There ain’t no other girls, darlin’.”
“Don’t I know it,” Ororo kissed his lips, lingering for a moment before speaking against his mouth. “Marry me, Wolverine.”
Logan’s eyes drifted closed, the soft curve of his mouth betraying the blow to his heart she had just dealt him. She was not afraid that he would say no. To her surprise, there was no tension in her sex-soothed body. She did see him, right through the brash outer shell he portrayed to the rest of the world.
When those ebony eyes met hers again, the emotional shields he depended on here down. He let her see everything he could never say, let her drown in it.
“Yeah. I’ll marry you, baby.”
Ororo kissed him, giddy and light with his easy affirmation. He chuckled, the sound as carefree and easy as hers. Her heart beat frantically against her chest, wanting to rush out of this room and find a damn priest before he could change his mind.
“You need a ring,” he announced a moment later, tickling her throat with quick, drugging kisses. “What kind ya want?”
“Big, flashy. Makes J-Lo’s 4-carat monstrosity look like costume jewelry!” She giggled when he pinched her thigh.
“You want it, you got it, darlin’.”
Ororo laughed, hugging him tightly again. Logan buried his face in her shoulder, breathing deeply. She turned to kiss his hair. “Come with me.”
She untangled her body from his, before hopping out of bed and rushing to her dresser.
“You want that ring bad, doncha?” His teasing tone was filled with laughter as she pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Logan dressed as quickly. Ororo grabbed his hands, walking backward toward the terrace and pulling him with her. She had to move, to do something with this unfathomable energy that sprang to life in her.
“Fly with me.”
He gave her a bemused smile. It reminded her of that night on Liberty Island, when he’d trusted her to lift him with only Jean’s mind for stability. The flash of remembrance in his eyes told her he’d recalled that moment as well.
To her pleasure, he did not ask if she could control it now, or if she was sure. In the ultimate showing of trust, Logan moved to the balcony and leapt from it. Ororo grinned, flipping her own body from the stone rail of the balcony, calling on the wind.
She lifted them both, catching an unconcerned Logan long before his heavy body contacted the earth. He was grinning, relaxed as she moved them both into the bright sky.
For the first time since the deaths of her family, Ororo was happy. She would hold onto that moment with both hands and duct tape.
~**~
“So, who wins the World Cup?”
Bishop glowered at the perky blonde across the table from him. He had no knowledge of this girl, only that she had died before she could ever meet the X-Men. Her death was prevented by his actions, which she asked him about all morning.
He understood her, to some extent. When the young, pierced girl had come to him, spitting and snarling at his revelation to Piotr some weeks ago, he accepted her anger. She had saved the young man’s life, preventing the first of many problems for the X-Men. Bishop appreciated her efforts, her anger.
But she was slowly driving him mad.
“I cannot reveal that.”
“Oh come on,” Dazzler whined from her place beside Piotr. “Just a teeny hint.”
“Alison,” Piotr admonished, tickling one of the feet carelessly thrown into his lap.
“What?” She demanded on a laugh. “I’ve got money on Russia, comrade.”
The huge mutant shook his head, going back to his textbook. Bishop wished the boy would put his work down and take the girl away. Far away. Russia was an excellent idea, actually. How could he take her constant chatter? She was always in someone’s face, questioning or arguing.
At least, Bishop admitted, she was loyal.
Thoughts of Marie were pushed aside, at least for now. He wanted to keep his relaxation for a moment. His blood pressure was skyrocketing, leading to Uncle Hank’s infernal monitoring machine attached to his forearm. If he did not take a few hours to relax, he could have a stroke.
That was unacceptable. He needed to be alert, to protect his family.
Turning his attention back to Blaire and Rasputin, he finished readying a cup of coffee and moved to attempt escape.
“Come sit down, Bishy,” she stopped him. “I’ll behave.”
Colossus snorted from behind his textbook. Dazzler pinched him indelicately.
When she kicked a chair out for him and Piotr moved several of his notebooks, Bishop accepted the offer. At least she had something other than timelines and parents to talk about. He could get her started on music, fall asleep to her easy chatter.
“You holdin’ up ok?” She asked seriously when he sat.
“I am well,” Bishop answered stiffly, unused to anyone save his parents asking after him.
Alison cocked her head to the side. “You want help getting that plasma rifle out of your ass?”
Piotr did not even look up from his work. “Alison.”
She ignored her lover. Bishop arched a brow, sipping his coffee quietly. She continued staring at him, those enormous jade eyes boring into his. This Dazzler would be formidable in his time, he could feel it. Her alliance with the X-Men, her love for Colossus, would make her a force to be reckoned with.
A distant wonder if her children knew he and Shard was slightly disturbing. Chills ran the length of his spine, a foreboding warning of things to come.
The young couple was cause for speculation alone, he thought. Neither of them was supposed to be alive, and yet here they were. He had done that, altered the future. They were his new concern, wondering what had changed by saving their lives. Cause and effect could be a karmic bitch.
Alison wore Levis torn in several places over her worn combat boots. She’d pulled a signature tank top on, layering it with a light flannel shirt at least two sizes too big. Her long blonde hair was up in a rough topknot, several wayward strands falling from the pins used to hold it up.
Piotr had donned a faded t-shirt bearing the image of Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky on the front, his jeans as time-worn as his lovers, without the shredded aspect. They were one hell of a couple. As powerful and prospectively dangerous as Storm and Wolverine. That would be interesting.
“Hello?” Blaire was snapping her fingers in front of his face when Bishop came back to reality.
He flinched, raising a brow to her. She grinned impishly.
“Mental time-out?” She asked, taking a sip from the cold pop in front of her.
“Something like that,” he answered, trying to not smile.
She rolled her eyes, leaning over to peek at what her boyfriend was doing. Her eyes rolled toward heaven again as she snatched his pencil away.
Piotr said something in Russian that sounded nothing like “Stop it”. Alison ignored him, pointing to the complicated mathematics.
“You’re doing it wrong, comrade,” she said kindly. Bishop arched a brow at the tone. He’d never heard it. She was usually annoyed or joking.
“Then explain it,” Piotr said indulgently.
Several minutes later, Bishop had a migraine just listening to the girl explain, but Piotr kissed her quickly. The girl giggled somewhat girlishly, shattering the image of a badass musician who could kick ass and forget the names.
When the young man went back to his homework, Alison shot Bishop a look.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of his mother and father. The elder couple was laughing, his father chasing his mother into the room. She paused to kiss their son, making Bishop’s heart leap with easy familiarity.
“Luke.” Mother greeted. “Are you relaxing?”
“Yes, Mother,” he shook his head in exasperation.
Father clapped his shoulder before mock-hitting Alison with a closed fist. The young woman chuckled, ducking away from the affectionate touch. Mother went to the refrigerator, ducking into it while she hummed quietly. Father plopped into the free chair beside him.
Piotr announced he was finished with his homework and in reward, Alison climbed onto his lap. Though he blushed, the younger mutant allowed the intimate contact, even when the blonde girl wrapped him in her arms and mashed her lips to his.
Logan and Lucas immediately covered their eyes, groaned and looked away.
“You two look so alike,” Ororo muttered as she came over, taking up Alison’s now-empty seat.
Father was staring at her, Bishop noticed when he opened his eyes. In fact, Mother was staring back at him as though he had hung the moon and stars all for her. Hope leapt in Bishop’s heart.
When Alison released Piotr from their lip-lock, both panting with what Bishop hoped was oxygen deprivation, she immediately caught something in the wind.
“You look like the cat that got the canary,” Dazzler observed as she turned in Piotr’s arms.
Storm and Wolverine held a quick, silent conversation with their eyes. Father’s smile was lazy, relaxed as he sat back in his chair. Mother turned slightly to Alison, thrusting out her left hand. Bishop felt his heart stop.
“No,” she said whimsically. “Merely a goddess who caught herself a Wolverine.”
Upon his mother’s left ring finger was something he had seen a million times. The shiny gold band was simple, smooth and adorned with a beautifully cut diamond. His mind immediately put the plain band in front of it, which she would don at the ceremony.
Alison squealed, making Father swear as the sound pierced his sensitive ears. She enveloped the X-Men leader in a massive bear hug, not bothering to leave Piotr’s lap. Bishop noted how the young man held her securely by the waist to prevent a fall, even as he reached across the table to shake Father’s hand.
“When did he ask?” Alison questioned breathlessly, grabbing at Ororo’s hand to inspect the ring. “Whoa, nice ice. That must have put you back a couple grand. Jesus.”
“Two weeks ago,” Ororo answered, glancing at her husband-to-be.
Bishop took his father’s hand under the table, hiding the intimate gesture. Wolverine looked at him, that familiar half-grin betraying to his son exactly how happy he was. Bishop amended several mental issues in that moment. His parents did not have the typical love story, but they did love one another.
Weight left his chest easily.
“Wow,” Alison breathed. Bishop caught the sound of tears in her tone. “This is awesome. So, think you’re knocked up yet? Cause that’ll be cool.”
“Alison!” Piotr cut in, shaking his head and dragging her back to his chest.
“What?” She blinked in faux innocence as Father chuckled.
“Shush, woman,” Piotr ordered.
“Uh-huh,” Alison countered with mischief in her tone. “Like you haven’t told me ‘I wish they would be quieter about it.”
Piotr put his head in his hands. Mother laughed and Bishop snorted into his coffee.
“Like we haven’t heard the two of you,” Father countered easily. He raised his voice to a squeak. “Faster, comrade. Harder. More more more!”
Alison winked impishly without any hint of embarrassment. “You’re just jealous.”
“Like hell,” Father grinned, indicating to Mother. “I’ve got that. You don’t hold a candle, Sparkler.”
Piotr covered Alison’s mouth, one of his dark brows arched protectively. “I do not share, in any case. Besides, no offense to Storm, but she does not hold a candle to Alison.”
Bishop swore Dazzler melted in the strong Russian’s arms. Ororo smiled indulgently to them both, the kind of smile that she would someday bestow on himself and his little sister. Colossus’ face colored, as though he had not expected to say so much.
Before any of them could continue, Father stood slowly. He sniffed the air, his hands clenching into fists as the resonating snkit sounded through the room. Claws unsheathed, the other mutants jumped to their feet.
Father pushed Bishop aside. “Get down!”
He trusted Colossus to cover both women and the massive mutant did so. Bishop felt the odd pull in his stomach as his father protected him. Unnatural winds tossed dishes and servingware through the room, ripped the textbooks off the table.
“What is that?” Alison screamed, her voice betraying fear.
No one answered as winds died and the sound of someone retching violently replaced it. In the stony silence, Bishop opened his eyes, immediately recognizing the pair of boots he caught sight of from under the kitchen table.
He shoved Father away, standing quickly. A tall, blonde woman with white eyes was bent over the counter, emptying the contents of her stomach as she trembled. Bishop’s heart slowed to a stop and he took one step toward the familiar mutant.
“Shard?”
