Letting the earpieces snap together, Jean folded the stethoscope around her neck. “I suppose…in a manner. Sort of. No, not really.”
“Uh-Huh.” Ororo twisted on the bed, setting her feet on the floor, staring at the hardwood. “This must be a school for politicians.”
“Excuse me?”
“Logan told me this place was a school, and considering all of the bullshit answers and half truths I’ve been given, I would guess this to be a school for politicians. That is, if it‘s a school at all.”
Jean shot her a compassionate look. “No one wants to mislead you, Ororo. Honestly.”
“But you are being evasive.”
Tender area, Jean thought before answering. “We’re being cautious.”
Ororo watched Jean jot down some more notes on her clipboard with her eyes narrowed and speculative. “So, if you’re not a nursing student, why are you playing doctor?”
“I didn’t mean to imply I wasn’t qualified to be handling your care. I’m more qualified than most of the doctors in the world.” There was no smugness to that statement, just simple fact.
Ororo, however, was less than convinced. “How so?”
“I’m your friend.” Jean said gently, avoiding the direct answer. Sure, she could have said I mind jack the top professionals in the field and use what they know to suit my needs,but she sensed that Ororo would find that less than comforting at the moment. So instead, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, reaching for her friend’s hand. “There’s just so much I want to say, but I don’t want to overwhelm you. This place is a school. You and I practically grew up here. Hopefully you’ll remember that soon, but it may take time. You’ve been gone a long time--”
“How long?” Ororo interrupted, removing her hand.
Emerald eyes flickered with the brief sting of hurt. “Twenty-one months. Almost two years.”
It took a moment for Ororo to digest that fact. Two years! She grimaced, trying to recall anything of those months, or before, only to be discouraged as she was barely able to pull up hazy recollections of the past 72 hours. “I--I don’t remember any of it,” she whispered angrily. “Nothing.”
“It’ll come,” Jean assured her. “The Professor, he’ll work with you. Just like he works with Logan.”
Ororo turned her head. “Wait…Logan? When he said he couldn’t remember his last name, I thought he was being…cautious.”
Jean‘s lips twitched at that. “No, he really can’t remember.”
In her chest Ororo felt the stirring ache of sympathy. He seemed so strong and sure, it was hard to picture him uncertain, afraid, unable to remember. To know that he may have endured the same or similar fate as she had made her feel all the more connected with him. “Did what happen to me happen to him?”
“No.” Jean shook her head, eyes saddened. “Logan’s life is…well, it’s complicated. But if anyone can understand what it is you’re going through, it’s him.”
Ororo mulled that over. “That must be why he’s hanging around me. He can relate.”
Jean laughed softly, her green eyes now twinkling. “I hardly think that’s why Logan is hovering around you.”
“No?”
“No.” Jean stood. “Logan isn’t someone that is easy to read, but you and he have always had a special bond.”
Had they? Ororo couldn’t recall. She wondered if their previous close connection and her inability to remember it were the reasons behind Logan’s obvious discomfort earlier in answering her inquiries.
Noticing Ororo’s far away look Jean quietly collected her things. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”
“Hm? Oh, okay. Thank you.” Ororo stood. She still needed that shower and some fresh clothes.
“No need to thank me. That’s what friends are for.” Jean closed the door quietly behind her.
Jean found Logan in the downstairs library, reading. It was as often occurrence to find him there as it was to locate him in the garage tinkering on his motorcycle or one of the other vehicles the school used, but it was a place people rarely suspected him of being, and therefore, he was often left alone.
Solitude.
He seemed to crave it. Need it. It regenerated his spirit, she thought as she approached him. She knew he was already aware of her presence, but he didn’t look up from the pages on his lap.
She stopped a few feet from him, allowing him to finish his passage and mark his page. He closed the leather-bound volume and raised a brow. “’Sup, Jeannie?”
Jean didn’t fail to notice the way Logan kept his large hand curved over the backing, preventing her from seeing the title. She assumed it was one of the many poetry books kept in stock. He was partial to poetry. He’d die before admitting it, but it didn’t change the fact.
Ororo had gotten him hooked on reading, Jean remembered. An avid writer, Ororo loved to immerse herself in the classics and as constant companions for a time, Logan had developed a true fondness for literature. There were many nights that Jean had found Ororo curled against Logan’s side beside the library’s grand fireplace, listening to him read aloud from one of her favorite books.
Even after Jean and Logan had begun their brief romance, he still found time for that each night. It was very telling, at least to Jean, that Logan was willing to give up sex in order to fit in one more chapter of The Great Gatsby, or whatever book Ororo and he had started.
The one and only time she had confronted him about the issue Logan had blown it off as her being paranoid; so she had laid down an ultimatum: “You come to bed, you get fucked, if you stay in the library, you won’t. It’s that simple. Your choice.”
He had stayed in the library. And they had ended.
Now, looking at him, Jean realized his connection to literature was actually more about his connection with Ororo. Yes, he most obviously did enjoy the books he was reading, but somehow she knew that on some subconscious level the link was there.
“Jean?” he repeated, dark eyebrows quirked.
“Oh, sorry. Hey,” she smiled. “I just wanted to let you know that I was finished in Ororo’s room. She’s stronger today.”
He nodded once, but Jean saw the flare of relief in his eyes. “She’s a fighter.”
She took the seat across from him. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fine. But how are you really doing?”
Logan sighed and set his Poe book aside. “I said I’m fine.”
“You always say you’re fine.”
“And, what do ya know, I always am.”
“Physically.”
“Jeannie.” He gave her a warning rumble.
She chose to ignore it. “A person would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see the way you feel about her! You thought she was dead, she’s not. She’s back, and that has to range somewhere off the fine meter!” She slapped her hand on the arm of the chair.
Logan rose, agitating his hair with his fingers. “Enough, Jean.” He turned towards the large windows, exposing his back to her.
“No! It’s not enough, Logan! That’s the point! You can lie to the others, maybe even lie to me, but you need to stop lying to yourself. When push comes to shove and Ororo finally wants to know how you feel about her resurrection, fiiiiiiiine just isn’t going to cut it!”
“It’s hard for me,” he snapped with a growl. “Is that what you want to hear? It’s fuckin’ hard for me to be around her, to not be around her. To know what we had once, what I fucked up.” He lowered his hands, his anger simmering just below the surface. “She’s going to remember, Jean. At some point she’s going to remember how much I hurt her.”
Jean stood, crossing to where he stood and placed a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. She could see the pain on his face when he spoke of hurting Ororo and she knew it still ate at him, what had happened. “Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. But in the meantime, why not give her some pleasant memories to focus on, huh?”
He scoffed. “Yeah. Right. Me and pleasant ain‘t exactly synonymous.”
“She’s not dead,” she reminded him with purpose. “She’s right upstairs. You can at least try. Not a lot of people get second chances, and you're wasting yours. She needs you now, Logan. Forget what was before. She needs you now.”
He tossed her a look over his shoulder. “Why are you so invested in this?”
“Because I know.” She tapped her head. “You love her.”
Logan turned back to the window. Did he love Ororo? What kind of stupid ass fuckin’ question is that, Bub? He knew the answer. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew the answer. He shook his head resolutely. “She’s got enough shit on her plate.”
Jean sighed, frustrated. “Love is not some sort of burden.”
He laughed without humor. “Says you.”
“Yes, says me.”
“Not everyone can have it as perfect as you and the Boy Scout.”
It was Jean’s turn to laugh. “You think we’re perfect? We fight. We have issues, but the bottom line is we love each other. That’s all that really matters.”
His eyes gleamed, eerily feral in the afternoon sunlight. “Save the Hallmark shit, Red.”
She threw her hands up. “Fine. You wanna be pig headed and mule stubborn go ahead, but I promise you this, oh mighty lone one, there will be a day when you kick yourself in the ass for missing out on what could be a truly beautiful thing.”
Hadn’t he done that that every day since Ororo had gone? “You done?” He demanded.
“Yeah.” Jean shook her head, walking away. “For now.”
Logan watched her leave with brooding eyes. What the hell did she know anyway? Stupid flowery bullshit. He sat back down, picked up his book, but he couldn’t shake her words. Why not give her some pleasant memories to focus on…
Resolutely, Logan left the library and headed for his room. He had some things to collect.
It was a bit unnerving walking down the grand staircase, Ororo thought as several sets of eyes swung her way. She wasn’t sure if she should smile or glare in response, and in truth she felt like tucking tail and running back up the stairs, throwing the covers over her muddled head and hiding for the rest of her natural life.
Man up, weenie, she scolded herself. She continued down, but despite her inner coaching, she froze on the bottom stair, her feet rooted to the wood and her hand was quite possibly leaving indents on the rail.
“Hey, wait up, Ororo.”
She turned slightly to see a tall, good looking man with red sunglasses coming down the stairs behind her. Dressed in Khaki pants and a light blue button shirt he appeared very casual. Another resident? She frowned, trying to recall a name, and came up empty.
“Hello…uhm...?”
“Scott,” he provided with a smile. It was a very nice smile. He was directly beside her on the stair, and if he thought it odd that she was now a stationary figure on a staircase he refrained from comment. “It’s good to see you up and about.”
“Thanks.”
“Where ya headed?”
She shook her head, a rueful smile playing with her full lips. “I have no idea.”
He chuckled. “Well, then, how about a grand tour?”
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you--”
“No trouble,” he assured her. “My pleasure. It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten to spend any time with you.”
He seemed sincere. “Okay then.”
Scott grinned. “Good.” He hopped off the step, tugging her gently along. “Let’s start in the Rec Room…”
Nearly an hour later they returned to the main lobby. “And here we are, back at the beginning,” Scott was saying as Logan entered the foyer through the elevator.
Logan paused just outside the elevator’s sliding doors, his mouth going dry at the sight of Ororo. She had on some faded jeans and a bright blue Xavier’s sweatshirt, with her hair free along her back, but it wasn’t her apparel that caught his attention and held it. It was the sunbeam smile she was bestowing upon Scott that held him captivated. Damn, she was beautiful.
She spotted him and turned that bright smile in his direction and Logan felt his heart kick. Yup, he was in trouble.
“Logan.” Scott nodded at him as he approached.
“Summers. You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented to Ororo.
“I am. Scott was just showing me around the school. There is so much t take in, but it’s been fun.”
Scooter and fun? Logan shot his shaded team leader a dark look. “Exactly how much fun? You should be resting.”
“We kept the pace leisurely,” Scott stated. He turned to Ororo. “Hopefully we can spend some more time together soon.” Impromptu, he bent and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re back.” He straightened and clasped Logan on the shoulder as he passed. An undercurrent bond surged between the two men and for one moment there was no animosity, no rivalry, only the unspoken gratitude of having one of their own back.
“I like him,” Ororo said as Scott left.
“Ya always did. Never could understand it, but you always did like the boy.” He took in her tired expression. “You over did it,” he stated, concerned.
She grimaced slightly, but her smile held. “Yeah, a wee bit.”
“C’mere.” He hooked his arm around her waist, supporting her.
“I can manage.”
“Probably.” He didn’t release her. “Come on, I have something I wanna show ya.”
“Okay.”
He took her to the elevator. “I know you don’t like these things, but I ain’t having you climb the stairs right now.”
“Pushy,” she mumbled, but obliged. When the elevator jostled and the doors closed her fingers curled aggressively into Logan’s arm.
He knew that he shouldn’t take pleasure in her fear, but heaven help him, he couldn’t refrain from the small surge of satisfaction he felt at her clutching. He glanced down at her. “Okay, darlin’?”
“Sure.” She had her eyes closed.
“We’re here.”
Ororo blinked one eye open. “I didn’t even feel us move.”
“We have really nice equipment.”
“So I gathered from my tour.”
Logan assisted her off the elevator. “Anything ring a bell?”
She shook her head, her eyes dimming. “No.”
“Don’t get too frustrated. It’ll come.”
She followed him down a long hall. “Has it been hard for you?”
“Been talking to Jeannie have ya,” it was a statement.
“Does that bother you?”
He thought about it for a second. “Not really.”
“So…?”
Logan shrugged. “Some days are easier than others.”
“That was a very vague reply.” She frowned up at him.
“So it was.” He opened a door. “Here we are.”
“Where are we?” Ororo asked, passing the threshold.
“My bedroom.”
She froze, whirling on him, defensiveness screaming from her posture. “Why?”
He noticed her anxiety, and he ignored it. Keep it casual, unthreatening, he told himself/ “Because,” he flicked on the overhead light, “it’s where I kept your stuff.”
The room was darker than the rest of the mansion, was the first thing she noted. But that was because the dark navy drapes were drawn over the windows. She strode towards the boxes laid out in neat piles on the large bed in the center of the room. “This stuff is mine?”
“Yup.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
“May I?”
He gestured her forward. “It’s yours, darlin’.”
With only the briefest hesitation Ororo opened one of the packed boxes. Photo albums. Three of them. She pulled out one black and gold book, settling herself against his headboard. There were dozens of pictures of her and the people in the institute. Several of her and Logan. Plenty of her and Jean. Pictures of a slender brown haired girl and a massive male, the Professor… she turned the page and froze.
“What…is that?”
Logan strode forward, his boots clacking on the hardwood. He bent over her shoulder. “That’s Beast.”
Ororo, eyes wide, turned toward him. “He’s blue!”
Logan frowned. “Yeah.”
“What is he?”
“He’s a man.” Logan said firmly. “A mutant, sure, but a man.”
“He’s a mutant,” she repeated, voice shaking.
He nodded. It was something he debated against telling her, but he was a firm believer in truths, and there would be no way to hide her mutantcy from her forever. Nor should they. “We all are.”
Ororo felt her stomach roll. “We?” She pressed her hand to her head. “We all are?” Her head began to pound.Mutants were an abomination unto the Lord, not fit to live amongst the pure…A voice, vacant and devoid of emotion, rattled off in her mind.
Logan grew concerned at her stillness. “’Ro?”
Pain laced her skull like static ribbons.Abomination! The album slipped from numb fingers, photographs spilling onto the floor. Fire…her head was on fire! Mutants were an atrocity, a scourge upon humanity. They must be cleansed from the Earth… Must be cleansed…! Screaming. Who was screaming?
“’Ro!” Logan reached for her only to recoil a moment later as lightning scorched his skin.
White, glowing eyes turned on him. “Cleanse…the abomination…” Wind ravaged his bedroom and he heard the windows break and shatter.
“’Ro!” Logan grabbed her, despite the pain spearing his body. “Look at me!”
“I am looking at you,” she hissed. “Abomination.”
“Stop it! This isn’t you!”
“Cleanse…the Earth…cleanse…” She screamed again, clutching her head. When she looked at him her eyes shimmered from arctic to tear filled blue. She clawed feebily at the device on the back of her head, her motions frantic. “Help me…”
Fuck, what had he done?
Ororo screamed once more, thrashing back with enough force to break his hold on her. She went limp against his pillow, the wind ceasing abruptly. Logan blinked, swallowing hard. “’Ro…?” he touched her cheek.
~I’ve managed to temporarily send her to sleep, Logan. I suggest you bring her to the medlab.~
Chuck.
Logan gathered Ororo up into his arms. “On my way.”
