Summary: Though Ororo & Logan are far from over, their road back to each other proves long & hard as she just helped him begin to cope w/ his crisis and finds herself embroiled in one of her own; Section X’s Maverick & Ackens aren’t quite done w/ Col. Howlett yet; things take a turn for the worst in Genosha.
A Summer of Sunsets
Chapter #25 “Summer Moved On, pt. 2”
Brooklyn, NY
Saturday, August 15th 2004
12:47a.m.
They’d gotten there around 8p.m. Friday night, after quite a bit of back-and-forth ‘debate’. He was fighting his guilt more than he was actually fighting her, and she wasn’t about to leave him alone again, even though her feelings for him were nothing short of a royal mess.
When Ororo opened the front door to her brownstone, she breathed in deeply, feeling a little of the edge leave her at being back ‘home’. Mindful of her guest, she stepped aside and turned back to him, waiting for him to cross the threshold.
Outwardly, Logan seemed reserved and almost calm, but inwardly he was still quite a wreck. A point he tried to convey to Ororo several times in that he thought the last thing they should do is be alone together as he was in his present state of mind. She tried to dismiss his concern, but he could tell she was just as worried as he.
After he finally followed her inside, she immediately dropped her purse & keys on the table beside one of the couches in the spacious living room, and turned to him, taking his hand and leading him to the soft cushions.
There she sat, pulling on his hand until he sank down onto the sofa beside her. They just sat side by side for nearly half an hour, as Logan warred w/ himself internally, until she heard him take a deep breath. His shoulders sagged a little, and as she moved her hands out of her lap, he leaned over and rested his troubled head there, his muscular arms hugging her knees as they pillowed his chin.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.
They stayed in that exact position for the next few hours. Now, almost 1a.m., the only movement between them was the slow, methodical stroke of her hand through his messy hair, as Ororo leaned against the back of the couch, staring off into space. Below her, Logan seemed to sleep but a little fitfully, his forehead creased and his breath shallow. She didn’t doubt it was probably the first time he’d slept in nearly a week.
In the silence of the dimly lit brownstone, she tried not to think back on the previous day’s events, but found it impossible. Her thoughts initially strayed to Dr. Grey”Jean, she’d insisted to be called. Their meeting was the most unusual First Impression Ororo could remember, aside from the one with Logan himself. She couldn’t believe it but by the time they parted ways Ororo felt as though she’d almost made a friend.
Shaking her head in disbelief she would never imagine thinking something along those lines prior to actually sitting down w/ the woman. Maybe it was Jean’s openness, maybe it was her telepathy…or perhaps the look in her eyes as she spoke of the love she’d had for Logan, that he’d tried to return but ultimately couldn’t. That thought brought a sobering feeling to Ro’s heart as she finally allowed herself to admit that maybe she’d been foolish as well in her belief that her own relationship w/ him could’ve worked…
An urgent series of knocks at her door interrupted that train of thought, and her head immediately turned toward the front foyer, as Logan’s body jerked in her lap and he sat up alert. They looked at each other with the same thought of who in the heck that could be so late, but didn’t have to wonder long.
“Ma’am, open up,” Came from the other side as the knocking renewed, followed by: “Colonel, we know you’re in there.”
Before Logan could stop her, Ororo was up from the couch & heading toward the door, her expression one of guarded curiosity beginning to mix with agitation as she mumbled something to herself. At that exact moment, the downstairs phone began to ring”a startlingly loud sound in the quiet late night atmosphere, even despite the growing noise of the knocking.
Ignoring the phone, knowing the answering machine would pick it up, Ro laid a hand on the front door. “Excuse me, but who--??”
“Ro, wait.” Logan called as he was heading toward her, past the digital phone that was still ringing; he didn’t notice just as she had not that there were already several missed messages indicated by the blood red LED on the base of the phone.
His warning came too late, as she’d already peered through the door’s peephole to see men dressed in black trench coats”one holding up some form of ID to the door”and decided to open it.
When the brownstone’s door swung open, Chris Maverick wasn’t expecting the gorgeous face that greeted him, although he’d seen enough of the intel on Logan’s ‘latest fling’ and knew enough of the man that he shouldn’t have been surprised. The hottest chicks always seemed drawn to the Canuck and he never understood why.
“”are you?” Ororo finished her query, staring at the man as he flipped the badge closed again and shoved it into his coat before she could see its credentials. The cool light blue eyes raked over her in a way that was going to get him slapped if he kept it up.
Dragging his gaze away from her to Logan who appeared behind her, he answered, “Col. Howlett you’re coming with us.”
Ororo’s head cocked at the way the man said that”not to mention his complete ignorance of her question. It was on her lips to tell him something scathing when she felt Logan’s hand on her arm. He gently pushed her back behind him, putting some distance between her & the men staring at him as if they anticipated trouble.
“What the hell’re you doin’ here?” There was more in that question than Logan was going to admit, but Maverick could hear It loud & clear; besides the obvious intrusion, showing up at a civilian’s door w/ Section X agents was a bad idea, at best. He didn’t want to have to explain any of this to Ro, for various reasons…
“I was just going to ask you the same thing, Col.” Maverick shot back, glancing back at Ororo again. “I thought it was made clear upon your release that”“
“Logan, who are these men?” She couldn’t have picked a worse time to interrupt.
“Colonel..?” Maverick barely kept the smirk off his lips as he looked Howlett dead in the eyes, daring him to speak the truth, which it was evident she didn’t know.
Logan turned back to Ro, his expression a mixture of emotions. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this to yer door, darlin.”
“What..?”
Before Logan could go on, Maverick sighed with a little exasperation, and gestured to the men behind him. “Excuse me, this is USMC business, ma’am. The Colonel needs to come with us. Now.”
Growling at the way Chris’ tone had turned, Logan gave him a look, but then turned back to Ororo, pressing her back out of the doorway for an illusion of privacy as he answered her trailed off question & confused look. “I gotta go.”
She held onto his arm to keep him from moving. “You’re in no condition to go back to work, Logan. You need rest. You need to speak w/ someone”“
“It’s alright.” He reached up and briefly touched her cheek, but then withdrew his hand, remembering their audience. “I’ll be fine.”
She clearly had her doubts about that but could see his mind was made up as he turned away & stepped toward the men waiting impatiently on the other side of the door. She watched without another word as Logan didn’t address them, walking past and down the steps of the brownstone toward the waiting dark Suburbans at the curb. The man who’d spoken to them watched Logan for a moment, some sort of silent communication radiating between the two men, before he turned back to look at her once more. She arched a brow a the ‘familiar’ way he appraised her--and the half-smirk that ghosted across his face--before he turned on his heel & stepped down after them.
Feeling lost, she stayed at the entrance as one of the men opened the SUV’s door, waiting for Logan to climb into the back of the 2nd car. As if he could sense her concern the Col. paused before getting in, looking back up to the house to give her a look; his eyes seemed to say what his voice hadn’t been given the chance to before they were so rudely interrupted: Thank You.
As the ‘government’ agents soundly closed car doors & the SUVs roared to life, moving away from the curb, Ororo finally retreated back into her home, more confused than ever. She just realized she had no idea who the hell the men were; it was obvious Logan knew them, so she’d assumed they were from his work, but why they’d come to her home”hell, how had they known where she lived??
That startling thought gave her pause, as she leaned against the door with her head angled back and face turned up to the ceiling. Just what sort of work was Logan into? She knew it was military, but assumed when he’d said he was a Marine that that was it. Now, her thoughts were swimming as she mentally recalled every snippet of info she’d picked up about his life, his career…his past. She’d always felt like there was something he was just holding back about his job, but in light of the other secret he’d keep from her, it had”understandably”been pushed into the recesses of her mind. Until now.
What else is he hiding from you?
Jumping before her mind could entertain an answer, Ororo heard the phone begin to ring again. Remembering someone had rang a while prior, she stepped away from the door after securing the lock, and walked over to the table where the digital cordless was. She glanced at the LED to see she had 6 messages waiting with urgency as the number flashed. Ignoring them, she picked up the ringing handset and connected the line, wondering who would be calling her this time of night.
“Hello??”
“Ororo..! Good God, I’ve been trying to reach you! Where have you been? You weren’t answering your cell, the home line kept going to the machine, Mrs. Duvahl said you left the Hamptons early Friday”“
“Ok okay, goodness Erik, I’m sorry, it’s just”“
“Never mind, never mind…(sigh)…Ororo, are you sitting down?”
The sudden quiet in his voice--tempered & slightly stilted as if it was the beginning of a speech he’s practiced for a while--gave her pause and Ororo’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. Leaning against the wall beside the table, she answered, “Erik, what’s going on? Why were you trying to reach me?”
“…Ororo, it’s Charles.”
“W-what?”
“…”
“ERIK?!” Her voice rose in fear and sorrow as she gripped the phone in her hands, which immediately started shaking with her voice.
“…Ororo, your father is”“
---
Down the road, heading away from the brownstone, 3 unmarked Suburbans speed away. In the 2nd, Chris Maverick sits back almost languidly, his arm across the back of the seat as he stares at Logan, who sits across from him in the limo-styled rear compartment. They haven’t said a word since leaving Ororo’s home; Logan stares out of the bullet & shatterproof tinted window, his mind obviously elsewhere. The 3 agents”two beside Maverick & the other beside Logan”appeared relaxed, but the truth of the matter was they were each ready to bring The Wolverine down should he attempt to escape. Not an easy task, but one that Logan wasn’t fool enough to assume Section X had not planned for the moment they’d hired him.
He could fairly smell the psionic power radiating off at least two of them and the sheer size of the 3rd was an obvious indicator to his power. If they couldn’t bring Logan down by might, a quick and lethal mental assault was sure to do the job. Hell, he was sure everything in his file pointed them toward that conclusion; after all, what the strongest & most vicious mutants & soldiers on Earth couldn’t do, a powerful enough Telepath with ‘good intentions’ had almost managed by accident…
“So, are you gonna tell me what the hell you were thinking?”
Logan didn’t turn away from the window, his fist supporting his chin as the dimmed night lights struggled to play against his face from outside, through the dark tinting.
When he didn’t receive an answer, Chris continued, “I mean seriously, you of all people should know when an agent has been taken off the field pending a review, you’re supposed to stay confined to house arrest. Personally I thought it was a bad idea to let you out under R.O.R.*, even with satellite surveillance. We took enough of a chance just because this is you we’re talking about. Then you go & do something idiotic like this?”
Logan remained silent and unmoved, his eyes growing hard the only indication the other man was testing his patience.
“And for what?” Chris challenged, raising a shoulder in mock confusion, “a late night fu”“
“Y’know Chris, there ain’t many things a man like me can honestly say he regrets in life. And it’s been a long life. But right now, I can’t think of nothing I do regret more, than that it wasn’t you in that training exercise.” The quiet tone and dead seriousness of Logan’s words threatened to bring the Captain up short. He was still looking outside, continuing: “If I were you, the next time you think about bringing the subject of Her up to me again…I’d remember that.”
The 3 other agents all exchanged looks; only one dared to glance at Maverick, who they were sure also heard the chilling tone behind the Col.’s cryptic warning. They were immediately unsure who was making that threat against the Captain; Logan, or Wolverine…
Somewhere Over the Atlantic Ocean
Monday, August 17th 2004
12:30a.m.
The hum of the plane’s engines provided suitable backdrop to help drown out her surroundings. The Xavier private jet”nothing anyone could place in terms of technology”was making its last flight back home to New York State. The passenger manifest was small for a plane this size”less than 15 people total, including the 2-man flight crew.
Inside the passenger hold, Marie, Elizabeth, Brian and Kurt sat toward the front rows, their quiet conversations muffled. Daring a glance behind him, Brian turned back to his sister and lightly touched Beth’s arm to channel her telepathic ability.*Is she alright?*
Keeping her sight trained on the three around her, Beth’s shoulder rose just slightly and she shook her head barely before meeting Brian’s concerned gaze. *I don’t know, Brian. She won’t respond to me. It’s still so soon…*
He gripped his sister’s hand, ‘hearing’ her mental voice break before finishing her sentence. The blood bond between them was enough; he could physically feel her sorrow and it matched his own, but Brian Braddock Xavier kept a stiff upper lip, if only to be the rock he thought his sisters needed him to be.
*Hank’s with her. He’ll know what to do.*
In the back of the passenger section, Henry sat with his Mac laptop across his lap, a word document open but the page blank as he tried to sift through his emotions and put a statement together. Beside him in the window seat, his sister stared out into the dark night as clouds passed. There was nothing to look at except the black water beneath them, but he was positive it wasn’t the view that had her so quiet and captivated.
Ororo’s eyes were glazed over and still red rimmed; she hadn’t gotten any sleep in a couple days now and the double jetlag wasn’t helping that situation. In her lap, her trembling fingers squeezed a crumpled kerchief that belonged to Erik, borrowed many hours before, when she’d still been in Genosha. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as she took a deep sigh, and choked back grief…
Earlier Saturday, 7p.m. Genosha Time…
As the hours grew, so did the crowds outside Hammer Bay Memorial hospital, until eventually the city police”aided by U.N. Peacekeepers”had to be called to keep the crowd under control. The throngs of people weren’t unruly, necessarily, but the sheer numbers had officials worried of the impending reaction.
Inside, a small section of the ICU wing was closed off, guarded by armed soldiers. The hospital’s staff glanced at them occasionally, a little unnerved by the stoic men with their eyes shielded and padded with bulletproof vests, gripping rifles”but tried to go about their duties as if a normal day.
Walking back toward the closed wing, Capt. Ward’s weary eyes met contact with his men, several of whom had been transferred to hospital detail with him. He realized some of them had as much attachment to the old man as he had developed in the short time they’d known him; a strange thing for a soldier who spent his life staying at an arm’s distance from everyone, every job. For some reason, this time was different.
“Captain.”
He nodded to his Lt., who was posted only a few yards away from the private ICU room. The other man had to know there was no real reason for Ward to be there, but neither man said anything more, as they just stood across from each other; a silent vigil.
Inside the room…
Screens flashed, the mechanical ventilator expanded and collapsed rhythmically, the heart rate monitor sent its findings dutifully to the hospital staff watching his every movement. Laying quite still on the cushioned bed, feeling chained to the apparatuses keeping him alive, Charles’s eyes remained closed most of the time, his shallow breathing around the intubation tube the only ‘natural’ sound in the room at the moment.
He wasn’t alone, however. Erik stood at the window of the 4th floor room, looking down at the crowded city streets below. Two chairs drawn up to the bedside, his 5 present children took turns sitting, holding his warm but clammy fingers and sending their thoughts and love to him, visibly and telepathically. It was, for the most part, a one-sided ‘conversation’, as Charles’ strength ebbed. He was unable to speak due to the tube assisting his breathing, but his energy level kept all but the most urgent telepathic exchanges at a minimum.
Besides, he seemed to save what was left of his strength for one conversation, in particular.
Leaning over his sister’s head, Brian squeezed Beth’s shoulder as she sat in front of him in the chair. Kurt was across from her in the other chair, Marie kneeling beside him as she held her father’s hand. The leather of her gloves kept them apart, always, and it stung not so much as it did just now.
Behind them all, standing partially in the doorframe, Henry adjusted his specs as he took a look at his father’s chart. He and the attending physician murmured quietly; ‘doctor-talk’ that”for the most part”went over the others’ comprehension. They knew he’d make sense of it for them later, anyway.
Pulling the ambassador’s son out of the door a little more, the doctor glanced toward the others briefly before whispering, “Dr. McCoy, I’m sorry but I’m not sure how much longer he can hold on. At this point, it may be in the family’s best interest”and those of your father’s”to consider quality of life options.”
For several moments, Hank didn’t respond, turning to look back inside the room and catching sight of Marie’s sorry attempt to keep mournful tears at bay. Her head bobbed, nodding occasionally, and it was a tell-tale signal that the prostrate Xavier was communing with his youngest child. Swallowing several times before quickly and quietly clearing his throat, Henry turned his dark blue gaze back to the physician. “Trust me doctor, when I tell you no one understands as the six of us here, how much pain my father is enduring at this very instant. His telepathy is unwittingly merging into empathic echoes radiating from his mind.”
At the other doctor’s alarmed look, Hank raised a hand briefly before cutting off his concern. “Don’t worry; the only one’s who’ll feel it are those closest to him. Even in his state, Charles Xavier is the most powerful telepathic mind on the planet. If he thought for an instant his abilities would harm the public…”
The doctor’s eyes softened when Hank’s voice faltered at the end of his sentence. After a few awkward moments, the other man laid a hand on Henry’s arm in condolence. “Your father is a great man. I’m so sorry this has happened to him.”
Hank nodded quickly, uncomfortable in the presence of the man’s sympathy and his own grief, which threatened to spill over.
“You understand, as his attending physician, at this point I’m only concerned about the ambassador’s comfort. He’s suffering needlessly”“
“No. Not needlessly.” Hand interrupted, more forceful than he intended, and his face showed it for a brief moment before he lowered his voice, looking down the empty hall of the ICU. “He’s waiting”“
“Waiting?? What do you mean? For what?”
Hearing his father’s weakened mental voice echo him, Hank whispered, “For as long as he has to.”
More than 15 miles away, racing through Hammer Bay city streets at break-neck speeds, the police car was on a beeline for Memorial. Bucking and rolling with the car’s inertia, it wasn’t fast enough for its frantic back seat passenger.
“Please, can you hurry??”
The officer in the driver’s seat exchanged looks with his partner riding shotgun before glancing in the rearview mirror at their distraught charge. What the hell was this lady thinking? He was already doing 80 on city streets! “Ma’am, we’re not far. Another 10-15 minutes, tops”oh, shit!!”
His expletive was followed by the sounds of the cruiser’s tires trying to gain traction as he put his defensive driving skills to the test in order to avoid another motorist. Yelling at the unaware driver futilely, the officer quickly composed himself before addressing the backseat again (though he kept his eyes on the road). “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.”
Hardly able to sit back against the cushion of the seat, Ororo’s expression seemed to think otherwise, but she kept any further comment to herself. She figured herself nothing but a distraction to them anyway, and knew her repeated ‘Are We There Yet?’s certainly were no help. Staring hard out of the window as the streets flew by, she whispered tightly, “I’m sorry…” before her voice broke.
Like two chastised children, the officers hung their heads a little, realizing she was probably catching on quickly to what they already feared; they weren’t going to make it.
Eyes narrowing in determination, the officer behind the wheel pressed his foot harder into the floor, the V8 engine beneath the hood of his cruiser roaring over the siren as he approached 90 mph, blowing through the traffic as it obediently parted like the red sea.
At That Moment, Thousands of Miles Away...
It was just after 10a.m. CST, somewhere in the deserts of Texas. The southern state was unusually warm”even for this time of year”and already the day was set to break humidity records in several cities.
Deep underground in one of Section X’s training facilities, General Jason Ackens rode the silent, smooth lift to the conference floor, where all of the offices were. He’d been stationed on the secret base for a few days now, but still had a difficult time remembering where his temporary office was. Grumbling to himself as he realized he was headed to the wrong floor, his punched the next floor up on the panel, inwardly shaking his head. Somewhere deep down, he knew his brain ‘fart’ was due in no small part to the meeting he had scheduled this morning. It was long overdue, but nonetheless one he wasn’t relishing at all.
“Took ya long enough, Jase.” Moments later that gruff voice met his ears as he closed the heavy door behind him. Glancing toward the head of the long conference table, Ackens took an extra couple seconds before he met Logan’s eyes.
“Too many damn floors in this place.”
That did elicit a sort of grating chuckle from the seasoned soldier, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes as they locked onto his superior’s frame. There was something different about him, oh yes, Ackens could see it too; Maverick was right. The hackles on his neck bristled as Logan’s eyes followed his progress into the room like a predator tracking already-wounded prey.
That feeling made the General draw up short of Logan’s position, keeping his eyes on the other man carefully. He fingered the folder of psych tests pressed firmly inside his arm; a battery of examinations the agency insisted Logan pass before being allowed back into the fold of active duty. What surprised Ackens wasn’t so much that Howlett had passed every one, but that he’d not put up a fight at the mere mention of tests. Hell, in fact, he almost seemed to look forward to it.
As if reading the General’s mind, Logan gave him a twisted and slightly scary lopsided grin. “So? I pass, ‘er what?” It barely seemed a query.
“As a matter of fact, yes. But I have one more question Logan, before you’re put back on this assignment.” Ackens watched him closely.
Puffing on a stub of a Cuban”highly against Regs, but this was Logan we’re talking about”the soldier’s silver eyes took on the amber light of the cigar in the dimmed room as he kept watching the General with that same dangerous glare.
When Logan didn’t respond, Ackens let the folder smack against the hard table top beside them, some of the test results sliding out of the side of the tan-colored sleeve. “Why the hell’d you agree to come back?”
For several seconds, Logan watched Ackens with a narrowed gaze, as if he were having a silent conversation Jason wasn’t privy too, but should’ve been. Then, very deliberately, he raised one leg, digging his booted foot into the cushion of the executive leather chair closest to him, propping his elbow on the bended knee as he removed the cigar to speak. His eyes were penetrating shards of steel as they pierced the General in the semi-darkness. “What’s the matter, bub? ‘Fraid I’m holdin’ a grudge?”
Clearly agitated by the taunting tone, Ackens nonetheless hesitated before speaking, choosing his words carefully. The room may’ve been monitored, but he did choose to enter alone, and no one would be quick enough to save his ass if Logan tried something stupid. “Colonel”Logan”what happened during that training…if it hadn’a come to light, yer career ending here was gonna be the least of ya worries, son. Now, I ain’t gonna sit here and claim I was in agreement with Maverick’s methods”and believe me, the Tribunal prob’ly ain’t done with him yet”but we both know sometimes, the ends have to justify the means.”
“Yeah?” Logan puffed on the cigar; it lit his face momentarily just long enough Jason could see his expression and clearly read the ‘Bullshit!’ that was written there. Chewing on the cigar’s end, he took a second, glancing down at the tests before looking back at Ackens. Quietly he intoned, “I’ll remember you said that, then.”
As Logan’s foot dropped to the floor and he looked ready to leave, the general’s voice stopped his progress. “Look, Logan…fer what it’s worth”I do wish we’d a-done things a little different. But that’s in the past. Right now, we need The Wolverine in top shape t’ find Victor and bring ‘im in. Y’understand?”
Flipping through the medical report pages nonchalantly, Logan looked up to Jason, hesitated, then let the pages fall back to the table. Stepping up close to his superior, close enough the General could hear the low, rumbling growl from his chest, Howlett’s voice ground out from behind clenched teeth. “Oh, I understand, Jase. You mother fuckers wanted The Wolverine back, at any cost. Well, congratulations, General. You got him.”
The quickened sound of the older man’s heartbeat was satisfaction enough”for the time being”and so Logan moved past him toward the door. As he laid a hand on the heavy exit, he threw over his shoulder: “I hope it was worth it.”
For several moments, General Jason Ackens stayed rooted in his place, unable to move, as he watched the spot Logan last stood. The look the soldier graced him with prior to exiting the door, sent the coldest chill down his spine. He knew the recalculated ‘precautions’ they’d put into place to rein Logan in had been worth every “re-directed” tax dollar, judging by the way he’d just looked at him.
Slowly sliding the loose papers of the medical reports back into the folder, he stopped at one of the last items”a small 4 x 5 black and white intel photo of Logan smiling at an attractive dark-skinned, white-haired woman on the back of his Harley. The photo had been taken at a distance, the two blissfully unaware they were being watched. For a brief moment, Ackens stared at it with a complete lack of emotion, before sliding it silently back into the folder with the rest of James Howlett’s psyche.
“Hell, son. Me too.”
To Be Continued…
*R.o.R.: Release on own recognizance
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