The loft had a bare boned décor with stripped hardwood floors and bricked walls. The only piece of furniture in the entire space was a massive variety of multicolored throw pillows and sheets splayed about on the floor. The terrace doors across the other side of the room was slightly opened, the breeze blowing the sheets aside to reveal a sleeping Ororo.
“Ro?” Logan took a step toward the makeshift futon.
He watch her as she laid there asleep, looking almost peaceful. It was with a closer look that he saw her labored breaths, the soft white wisps of her hair sticking to her sweat stained skin. She began to twist and turn in her sleep, speaking in an unfamiliar language to Logan’s ears. He knelt down sitting on the pillows next to her. It was obvious, she was having a nightmare the pain reflected on her sleep struggled face was all too familiar to Logan.
“Ro, wake up darlin’” His voice was deep and graveled with the weight of concern.
Logan’s hand found its way to her bandaged wrist. His thumb slowly and lightly rubbed small circles around the pulse points. Her labored breathing stopped in an instant. Ororo’s eyes opened in a snap, with the rapid lithe grace of a tigress and strength of a lion on the Serengeti she had Logan on his back with a serrated blade to his jugular before he could even think about taking his next breath.
“Jezus, Fuck. Ro’?” Logan was too confused to even breath. He stared up at Ororo, her legs straddling him, her blue eyed gaze looking down at him behind the white veil of her hair. God, she was so sexy, just like this right on top of him. He felt a slight tightness starting to form in his pants. That all disappeared as he began to concentrate on the sharp pinch of the blade held at his throat.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was calm and airy as if she was never asleep at all.
“You’ve been MIA fer a few days darlin’. Moira was a bit worried about ya.”
Her gaze was still dead locked on Logan’s eyes, “I don’t see Moira here.”
“I was worried about you also Ro’. After the other night, well, I didn’t know exactly what ta think.”
Ororo stayed in her position on top of him unmoved. Logan looked at her with dark eyes, his Adams apple scraping against the jagged edge blade.
“Uh, Ro’, do ya mind?” He looked at the blade and back up into her eyes.
Ororo moved her hair back and out of her face. The blade quickly disappeared beneath the mass of pillows and sheets, where Logan speculated she had originally got it from. With no apologies she removed her self from atop of his body and walked over to a little side room, Logan could only guess was the bathroom.
He heard the sound of running water, rubbing his throat he stood up and leaned against the small doorway waiting for Ororo to come out.
“Is there a reason you sleep with a big ass knife, darlin’?”
Ororo stepped out of the bathroom. For the first time he was able to really get a good look at her since he arrived. She had on a simple white t-shirt showing her flawlessly toned arms, the material hugged against her ample breast and flat stomach. His eyes roamed down to the white satin high cut panties she wore showing off her smooth long legs. Logan’s eyes looked back up and straight into the barrel of a 9mm.
“Because I forgot my gun in the bathroom, again.” Ororo gave Logan a deadpan stare as she released the clip, the sound it made when it hit the floor echoed through the loft. She popped the bullet from the chamber, catching it in her hand, tossing both bullet and gun onto her bed for safe keeping.
“Go Home, Logan. I’m busy.” Ororo turned away from him and walked to the other side of the loft.
He watched her in silent disbelief as she brushed him off. She stood in front of a brick wall running her fingers through the outlined patterns, speaking softly in the once again unfamiliar language Logan had woke her up from chanting in her sleep moments ago. He studied how her fingers moved along the wall, she was tracing some type of foreign writing that was chiseled in the brick. Arabic. The writings on the wall were in Arabic. The words coming out of Ororo’s mouth were Arabic as well.
Logan carefully walked toward Ororo. Her back facing him, he took a chance his body pressed against her back. He felt her warmth and hesitation to lean into his chest. His hand raised to her fingers that had already stopped its tracing of the wall. He held her hands in his bring them both to her side.
He turned her to face him. Logan moved the hair that had fallen in front of her face and placed it behind her ear. “ What does it mean, Ro’?”
Ororo’s gaze met his. Logan noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Despite just having woken up, she looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days.
“I thought I told you to leave.” Her voice had turned weak and scratchy.
Logan ran a finger gently across her lips. “ You disappear on me fer three days. I’m not going anywhere darlin’. Tell me what you were sayin’, please.”
His eyes was so sincere, so warm, so loving. She turned her face away from his. Logan’s stare burned her up inside. His eyes, his voice, his touch made her feel something she hadn’t felt in so long a time. Loved. Vulnerable. Ashamed. Human.
“ I have done many things in my life that I am not too proud of.” Her eyes turned back to the writing on the brick wall. Her voice became shaky as she continued. I have hurt many people along the way and… enjoyed it. You should leave Logan. I’m not safe.” Her knees were feeling weak again.
“Ro’”" Logan tried to steady Ororo as she swayed a bit almost falling to the floor. She pulled away from him and stood steady with her face avoiding his eyes.
“Listen Ororo, we all do shit in our lives that we ain’t too proud of. I’ve probably killed more men in my life to fill a third world country as a burial ground”"
Ororo’s enraged eyes snapped to his, “That’s different Logan and you know it. You were a solider.”
“Not always darlin’. Not always.” He stared at her with dark eyes of understanding. “We can never completely bury the past. The past becomes our plague. All we can do is find the strength to forgive ourselves to become better people, darlin’.”
“ I don’t think that I can. I’m too tired, Logan. The strength is not there. What if I hurt someone again? Goddess, what if I hurt you? I’m not safe to be around. I never will be.”
Logan tucked another stray strand of hair behind her ear. “ You can’t do anythin’ to me that I won’t let ya do, darlin’. Life was never meant to be safe. In fact, I think I’m starting to fall in love with life simply because it isn’t safe.
Ororo looked at him in disbelief with unshed tears caught in her lashes. “You’re falling’ in love with life?”
“No matter how weak ya think you may be, I still see life in your eyes, Ro’. I’m fallin’ in love with “ "
Ororo put her fingers to Logan’s lips, silencing him before he could finish. She was trying her best to hold back the tears, she shook her head disagreeing with him.
Logan’s face leaned into her touch. Her fingers glided across his lips, moving to rest on the side of his face. He breathed in her scent. Still beautiful, the mixture of almond oil, aloe and blood…?
He gave her a brief look of confusion. Logan gently moved Ororo’s hand from his face. Her bandaged wrist was splotched with blood.
“Ro’, your bleeding.”
“It’s nothing,” she tried to pull her hand away from him but his grip was firm.
“Let me see, darlin’,” he unraveled the bandage that revealed a clean symmetrical gash on her wrist. Logan looked at her for an answer.
“A necessary accident,” her eyes were downcast.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” She shook her head.
“You can start from the beginning, the middle, or even the end, darlin’. The important thing is that you do start.” Logan tore a piece of material from the end of his flannel shirt.
Ororo looked at him as he began to tenderly wrap it around her wrist. She finally made her start. She spoke the words from the wall Logan had asked about.
“A tarnished halo, tattered wings, and a desire that all will turn out well. Those are the ruins of the palace I once was.”
Logan looked into her blue eyes, gently rubbing and wrapping the bandage on her wrist.
Ororo placed her hand over his. “But ruins have their beauty. So, like moths to a fire's light we broken angels meet in our nightly flights to sing unholy hymns.”
She stopped in an attempt to hold back the tears that were beginning to blur her sight. It was no use. Logan saw how the tears escaped from her eyes like summer rain drops. He brought his thumb to her face and lovingly wiped one away.
Ororo had found the strength to finish. “And on our knees perform perverted communions. Finding false heavens in x-rated reunions, and creating a true hell within ourselves.”
Logan noticed how the last lines left her mouth in a choked whisper. But she had started and finished. That’s all that mattered.
“The weak can never find the strenghth to release their own tears. You’re stronger than you know, Ororo.”
Ororo closed her eyes and gave into the comforting sound of Logan’s deep voice.
He ran gentle fingers over her closed damp eye lids, “Let me help you heal.”
Ororo gave a deep sigh before she rested her forehead against Logan’s. “I’d like that.”
