Xavier Institute for Gifted and Talented
Westchester, New York
Boathouse
9 months since the defeat of The Shadow King


“Rrraaaaurrgggh!!” Six blades of lethal adamantium shot forth, spraying blood against a soft beige comforter. Heavy panting filled the still night air.
“Logan!” Ororo shot up in bed, immediately reaching for her husband.
He turned on her suddenly, savagely snarling at her, pinning her to the bed, his claws burying deep in the down pillows beside her head. He growled viciously, his gleaming white teeth bared against the haunted shadows of his face. He lowered his face to hers, snarling and sniffing.
Ororo tilted her head, giving him full access to her neck, making herself vulnerable to his attack should he so choose. He wouldn’t, she knew. He never did. Slowly, so not to startle him, she moved her hands up his tense forearms, along his shoulders, burrowing her fingers in his thick mane of midnight hair. “It’s all right, Logan. I have you now,” she whispered, pulling him closer, rubbing her lips over his, not kissing, just touching. “I’m here, love.”
“…’Ro?”
She nuzzled him, an imitation of his familiar, affectionate gesture. “Hi.”
Slowly reality began to set in and Logan was horrified to find his fists planted beside his wife’s lovely face, claws buried through the pillows, into the mattress. He retracted instantly, searching her frantically for any sign of injury. “Are ya alright?” he demanded, his voice raspy.
“Of course I’m alright.” Ororo said in her soothing, velvety timbre. “Another one?”
Logan sat back, sighing heavily, running one hand through his constantly disheveled hair. “Yeah.”
Ororo sat up as well, hooking her arms under his, hugging him. At first he was stiff and unresponsive, as he always was right after the nightmares, but soon he relaxed against her, his thick arms circling her. He nuzzled against her neck and his whiskers scratched lightly on her skin. It was a most welcome sensation, reminding her of his maleness and of his recent possession of her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Another heavy sigh. “There’s not much ta talk about, darlin’. Same as always. I wake up and it’s gone.”
She hugged him tighter. “It’ll come.”
Logan shifted so that he was looking down at her upturned face. He traced one finger along her brow, along her jaw, moving to tease her full bottom lip. She was a miracle, he thought, gazing into her trusting blue depths. She had unflappable faith in him and unconditional love for him, both of which he was certain he didn’t deserve. He clasped her to him, concealing his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla and earth scent that was hers and hers alone.
His nightmares were getting progressively worse, each one more vivid and real than the one before. Although he hated lying to Ororo, he wasn’t being entirely honest with her about how much of his dreams he remembered. He didn’t hide the truth because he thought she wouldn’t understand the dreams, because he knew she would, if anyone knew nightmares, it was ’Ro. The reason he didn’t tell her about the rooms with the scientists and the tubes and needles was because of the way it all made him feel. Afraid. It was a disturbing sensation, for Logan. He was known as the X-man who was not afraid of anyone, or anything, and he hadn’t been…until now. He was more than afraid of the monster in his dream; the one person that haunted him, that relished in the blood, hungered for the hunt, delighted in the pain. That person terrified him, but what terrified him even more was tonight the monster that took such pleasure in killing had a face and Logan had recognized it. It was him.
Sensing that he was still feeling the lingering effects of the dream, Ororo began to trail silky kisses along his neck and along his stubbled jaw. She never badgered him for more than he was willing to share, she simply held him, gave him her support, her unconditional acceptance, offering him her heart and her love to keep the darkness at bay.
In the few short months of their marriage Logan was continuously amazed by Ororo. He remembered how she had touched him the first night she had been witness to one of his nightmares. Instead of screaming and cowering away from him she had wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, speaking to him in low soothing tones. That had been four months ago and although the dreams were coming with less frequency they were arriving with far more intensity.
Still, Ororo was unafraid, and nonjudgmental. She never flinched from his fangs, never once looking away from his glittering black gaze, and never allowed him to feel shame at himself, telling him in no uncertain terms that being forced to do horrible things did not make him a monster, those that used him were the monsters. She said that he was redeeming himself daily with his fight against evil alongside the X-Men, she argued that he had saved himself and was a man of uncompromising honor. He didn’t fight with her over it, it would be pointless. Once Ororo made up her mind about something nothing would sway her. However, she was wrong. It wasn’t himself that kept him from falling back into the darkness that he harbored inside, it was her. She was his salvation.
Fresh beads of sweat broke out across his forehead and he shuddered. He felt his beautiful Windrider‘s soft lips on his cheek, her fingers running through his hair. He tilted her face towards his. “Love me, ‘Ro.” he murmured against her sleep plumped lips.
She smiled tenderly at him. “Always.”
Without taking his eyes from hers he gently pushed her back against the bedding, kissing her hotly, ferociously, his hands sliding down her body, parting her thighs, caressing her gently, making her moan and wiggled against him. He groaned, shoving the blankets out of his way so that he could settle himself in the cradle of her hips. He entered her slowly, drawing a sharp breath as he felt her body clench around his, welcoming him home.
Logan closed his eyes as she wrapped her gloriously long legs around his waist, pulling him tighter against her, undulating her hips as he moved in and out of her. His breathing turned ragged, his heart threatening to burst from his chest with each powerful stroke.
Ororo kissed him slowly, moving her tongue in and out of his mouth in the same rhythm that he was moving in and out of her. No matter how many times they were together it always felt magical and unique. He made her feel loved, and wanted and brought out in her a scorching passion that she hadn’t known she possessed.
Their tempo was increasing, the springs of their mattress groaning as he shifted position, driving in her tight velvet with more force, unable to hold back, needing to lose himself in her. Ororo was arching beneath him, crying out as her body quaked with her orgasm. God she was beautiful. Logan growled, latching onto the soft spot between her shoulder and neck, biting her as he came. Marking her. His. Always…
Gentle fingers stirred the hair at Logan’s temple, moving in lazy circles. He was already fast asleep, drained from the dream and their fierce lovemaking. Ororo sighed contentedly, enjoying the feel of her husband pressed against her. She knew he would not be moving from his current position, he never did after a nightmare. He would spend the remainder of the night still buried within her body and every so often would move his hips, stroking in and out of her in his sleep. Ororo didn’t mind. If her body offered him comfort and gave him even a moments peace, she would offer it up to him gladly.
“Sleep well, husband. I’ll keep the nightmares away.” Ororo kissed the top of his head. Logan rumbled softly in his sleep, nuzzling her. For a long time Ororo laid awake, stroking his hair, trying not to imagine what horrors would make her husband lash out like a man possessed. Her eyes began to glow white in the dark Whoever had hurt him would suffer, she vowed. She thought of Wraith and his sick look of pleasure as Wolverine was riddled with bullets, collapsing to the ground. She ground her teeth, thinking of all Logan had probably endured at that cruel monster’s hands. Closing her eyes Ororo wished that man a slow and painful death followed by a quick ride to hell.


Morning

The sound of loud, pounding bass and heavy grinding guitar rifts filtered through the steel doors, causing Wolverine and Gambit to exchange knowing glances. The heavy music blaring from the Danger Room could only mean that Ali and ’Ro were the room’s current occupants.
The two men entered the small elevator that lead to the observation turret and a moment later had their suspicions confirmed. Below them on the floor Ali was blasting several robotic attackers with streams of powerful laser light, her head bobbing to the music all the while.
***If you wanna step up (step up),
***You're gonna get knocked down (knocked down).
***If you wanna step up (step up),
***You're gonna get knocked down.
Behind her a droid raised its arm to strike and beside Wolverine, Gambit tensed. He shouldn’t have worried, as Ali leaned back, capturing the robots featureless face between her palms and twisting around, flipping the droid.
The heel of a thick black boot came down, smashing the robot’s head, small sparks shooting into the air. Ali looked over at Storm who was currently going hand to hand with several interactive soldier holograms and smiled. This was fun!
Storm moved with precision and grace, hitting and kicking, deflecting and throwing, making it look as easy as breathing. Whatever Wolverine was teaching her was effective and it showed. As Ali watched, a slight smirk on her face, Storm flipped, wrapping her legs around the last hologram’s neck, twisting and snapping. The soldier fell to the floor with a thud.
“Der be worse ways ta die,” Gambit said, nudging Wolverine.
“Can it, Cajun.”
In the Danger Room, the gun turrets swung open, firing on the two girls. In a spectacular display of acrobatics, Storm avoided the stun pellets, flipping and twisting in fluid motions, trusting her instincts to guide her. Ali on the other hand took a different approach. Tearing the front torso from one of the fallen robots and using it as a shield.
Lightening danced along the walls, shorting the circuits of the motion detectors, freezing the guns where they were, giving Ali ample opportunity to knock them out of commission with some concentrated light.
As the smoke cleared and the room settled, the two women stood laughing triumphantly.
“You two wan’ a real challenge?” Gambit said over the intercom, startling them.
Storm shielded her eyes, looking up at the reflective glass. “If you think you’re man enough.”
Gambit tossed Wolverine a look over his shoulder. “Wanna?”
A feral grin.
“Be right down.”

An hour later the four of them, showered and changed, made their way through the halls on their way to the scheduled afternoon briefing. “We are so gonna own you next time,” Ali said tugging the sleeves of her dark sweater as they walked through the main lobby.
“Is dat right?”
“You better believe it.” She said smugly. Gambit took her hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing it slowly.
“You already own my heart, ma petite bella,” he murmured. “Leave me and da Wolverine our pride, non. Such a fragile man as ‘e is, ‘e wouldn’ take da defeat well. Poor lamb.”
Wolverine chuffed. “It seems to me that the root of your tongue goes straight through to your ass, because you talk so much shit, Gumbo.”
“You jus’ be jealous of dis Cajun boys charm,” Gambit replied good naturedly.
“Yeah. That’s it.” Wolverine said flatly.
“Let’s go see if big C will let us ride to the meeting on his lap,” Ali suggested.
“Non. You and Stormy sit on him, you give dat man a ‘eart attack.” Gambit chided.
Ali pouted. “Prude.”
Ororo laughed. Prude is not a term she associated with her brother. He gave her a dirty look, which only made her laugh harder.
They paused beneath the decorative arch separating the lobby from the family room and Gambit began nudging Ali, pointing up. A bough of shamrock hung directly overhead. It had been one of the new teacher’s, Sean’s, idea for St. Patrick’s Day to use clovers like mistletoe.
Also noticing the leafy ball, Logan pulled a startled Ororo into his arms.
“What are you doing?” Ororo laughed, surprised.
“There are rules about these things,” he said seriously. “Strict rules.” Then his mouth claimed hers in a scorching kiss. Ororo shuddered, eyes closing as she was immediately lost in her husband’s embrace.
Gambit had to clear his throat three times before they broke apart. “Dis be a place of learnin‘,” he scolded with humor.
“Ali’s right. You are a prude,” Storm responded. “What happened to my Gambit, huh? The flirt? The charmer? The--?”
Gambit shouldered past Wolverine planting a bold kiss on Storm’s lips.
Wolverine’s low growl only encouraged him and Gambit tilted Storm back over his arm in a low dip, her long hair held from the floor by Gambit‘s threaded fingers. He turned his head up towards Wolverine with a devilish grin. “Dat’s ‘ow you do it, mon frere.”
“Ya got two seconds ta unhand my wife, Gumbo, or I forget yer family and carve ya like the turkey ya are.”
“Behave.” Ororo laughed, swatting Gambit’s shoulder. He pulled her upright again giving her a wink.
“Jus’ keeping’ da man on ’is toes.”
“Mmhm.” Ali tapped her foot, trying her best to appear angry. “Hey, Wolverine, c’mere, big boy.”
Ororo placed a hand on his arm. “I don’t share,” she teased.
“Man hog,” Ali pouted dramatically.
“Oh, all right.” Storm said with a sigh. “But I guarantee you’ll never look at Gambit the same way again.”
“Non, non. Not necessary,” Gambit drawled, enveloping Ali in a warm embrace.
“Well if he kisses as well as he’s hung--”
“Alison!”
“Just saying.”
Wolverine cleared his throat. “Well, if we’re done talkin’ ’bout my anatomy, there’s a meeting ta get ta.”
“Of course, sweetie.” Ororo winked at Ali, mouthing: Better.

War Room

“These are our most recent satellite images of a small base cerebro located a few weeks ago. I believe it is a mutant detention center of sorts.” Xavier indicated a large cylinder shaped building. “I sense there are several mutants housed here.”
Jean leaned forward anxiously. “A prison?”
Xavier nodded. “Yes.”
“No.” Wolverine said.
All eyes turned towards him.
“No?”
“No. It’s a training facility.”
Storm gave him a questioning look and under the table he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “One of many created by Weapon X.”
“Weapon X?” Ororo asked.
“Weapon X is a program designed for the explicit purpose of using mutants for war, raids, assassinations, and any number of other high risk missions.” Cyclops answered her. “Wolverine was once a member.”
Ororo nodded. “So, you don’t think this is a containment unit?” she asked Wolverine.
“Yes and no. Almost none of the mutants used for the program are there voluntarily. They are usually kidnapped and forced to fight. The bases are usually set up with cells in a center building, training facilities in the back and guarded areas in the front.”
Xavier pushed a button and a new image came into view. Three large underground holding cells. “And these?”
Pain. Needles. Nightmares. Blood. Pain. Pain. Pain.
Wolverine shook his head, trying to clear it. “Don’t know.”
“Hm. Well, we are going to find out. I’m sending a strategically strike force to infiltrate the base and recover those captured people.” Xavier shut off the hologram projector. “I will of course take volunteers first.”
“I’m in.” Ororo said.
“No.” Wolverine gave her a hard look.
She slowly turned her head towards him. “Excuse me?”
His dark eyes glittered. “A small unit would be best. Me, with Slim and Beast as backups.”
With controlled calm Storm said, “I am going. There are people that need help, Wolverine.” She turned back to Xavier.
Xavier sighed. “Storm I know you want to go, but I have to agree with Wolverine. Cyclops, Beast and Wolverine will go in. You leave in thirty minutes. Cyclops will have point.”
Ororo nodded, standing. “Wolverine, a word please.”
He grumbled something under his breath but followed her out of the room.
“What the hell was that?” She demanded once out of earshot of the others, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Look, ‘Ro-”
“Storm.”
“Ok.” he glowered. “Storm. Look, this is going ta need ta be surgical precise, and quiet. Let’s face it, yer powers ain’t the most subtle on the planet.”
“That’s not it, don’t lie to me.”
Wolverine shifted weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t like the idea of you in danger.”
“Wolverine, I’m an X-Man. There will always be danger. It’s part of the job. There are innocent people to be helped and I plan on doing everything I can to help them. What good is being an X-Man if all I ever do is sit around in my leather uniform and watch from the sidelines.“
“Ya’ve taken at least three assignments a month for the past six months, Storm. Ya ain’t sitting on the sidelines by far. Just let this one go. It won’t make ya any less of an X-Man.”
Ororo gave him an incredulous look. “You’re being ridiculous. Not only am I an X-Man, but I’m your team leader, and I didn’t appreciate you pulling that little stunt in there. You don’t get to make my decisions for me.”
Wolverine gave her a hard stare.
“We clear?” she asked when he didn’t respond.
“No. I’ll never be okay with you throwing yerself headlong inta every assignment that comes our way. What is it yer tryin’ ta prove?”
“Me? What about you, mister solo? What are you trying to prove?”
“Storm-”
“If you two are done your marital bickering, we should probably go over a plan of attack,” Cyclops said opening the door.
Storm gave Wolverine‘s impassive features a long look. He didn‘t even blink, just continued to stare at her angrily. “We’re done.” Ororo moved past him.
He watched her walk into the room, her back a straight line, her chin slightly tilted. He’d hurt her feelings, he knew, but he wanted her safe. Far away from anything that had to do with Weapon X. Unbidden a deep voice came into his mind:
~She’s a pretty little thing. I can only imagine the plans Wraith has for her.~
Smith. The fat fuck that had tortured him. Just thinking about that day made his knuckles ache, his claws screaming for release. That bastard had not only flayed him wide open, he had injected him with rage, making him go after the other X-Men, damn near killing Storm. Fuck. He wanted her as far away as possible from this shit and she wanted to run straight into it. With a growl he followed her back into the War Room.
“Let’s get started, people.” Cyclops moved to the head of the table.
“A Blackbird approach is our best bet. We move in hard and fast, take out the front guard units and move into the cells.”
“What about the underground buildings?” Beast asked.
“Wolverine?”
“It’s doubtful anyone’s alive down there.”
“We can’t just assume that,” Ororo said. “We should make sure.”
“I’m sure.” he snarled.
“Okay, never, ever, attempt t’ correct Wolverine ‘bout anyt’ing.” Gambit said. “If’n he bitin’ Stormy’s ‘ead off, der no telling’ what ‘e gonna do t’ da rest of us.”
Wolverine growled, his eyes drifting to Storm. She was looking at him strangely, like she was trying to peel back his layers and see inside. He looked away.
Cyclops ignored the banter, used to it by now. “This is the main ’housing’ area. It’s the best image we have.” It was a long narrow building, divided into many small square rooms.
“How big are those cells?” Storm asked.
“Best guess, five by six. Small.”
The green wire image rotated and on the back wall there were several objects shown white. Metal. Hooks and flails, spikes and rods.
“Cozy.” Beast muttered.
“Yeah. Cozy, if you're Hannibal Lecter,” Ali said. “Torture devices?”
“Looks that way.” Cyclops confirmed. “We enter here.” He pointed directly in the middle of the building.
“Der isn’ a door.”
A flash of ruby quartz. “I’ll make one. What’s the security like at these places, Wolverine?”
“Minimal. They’re hidden and overconfident, not expecting mutant liberators ta come chargin’ in if ya know what I mean.”
Cyclops nodded. “We leave in fifteen. Get your gear, be ready.”
“A raid, how jolly.” Beast murmured.
Wolverine was silent, walking from the room, leaving Storm to stare after him. She rubbed her gold band comfortingly, knowing he just needed some space, that it wasn’t her, but it still hurt.
“Ya alright, padnat?”
“Fine, Remy.” She gave him a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let’s set up watch.” She busied herself logging on to the comm link frequencies, pulling up the internal Blackbird cameras as well as the external. All shots came onto the large flat screen TV on the wall.
“Ali, can you get Kitty. I’ll want her here on the computer.”
“Sure thing.” Ali was out the door.
“Ready for da show?” Gambit leaned back in his chair.
The door suddenly opened and Wolverine strode in, a fierce look on his face. He yanked Storm from her seat, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her fervently, meshing his lips to hers, stroking her tongue with his, making her knees weak. When he pulled back she looked dazed. “Fer luck.” He turned and was gone again.
Ororo touched her lips with the tips of her fingers, smiling.

Unspecified Location


The three X-Men infiltrated the unnamed military holding silently, moving as a stealth unit, blending with the shadows cast by the setting sun. Cyclops motioned for Wolverine to move forward, and he did, moving cautiously and covertly through the front area. Two guards passed alarmingly close to Wolverine who was hidden in the shadows. Within a fraction of a second her had both men on the ground unconscious, lifting two fingers and signaling Cyclops and Beast around.
A small checkpoint sat midway between the entrance and the containment cells, the checkpoint occupied by one guard, who was currently more engaged in looking at a pair of double D’s in a smut mag than managing his post. “Evn’in, Bub.”
The man swung around, brown eyes wide. Wolverine’s fist planted in the guard’s face and he felt something break in the vicinity of the guys nose and the guard crumpled.
“Is that really necessary?” Cyclops asked.
“What would you have him do, oh fearless leader? Ask the man if he would like some girl scout cookies?” Beast replied in Wolverine’s stead.
Wolverine chuckled. Hank was chock full of surprises.
Cyclops didn’t reply, just held up his wrist, checking their coordinates. “Let’s roll.” He started towards the center of the building, where he would ‘make’ a door.
A young soldier stepped out of what could possibly have been barracks, flicking a lighter, head bent, trying to light his cigarette. He glanced up catching sight of a blue size 42 furry foot, before he was sent into the stone wall with a dull thud. Beast grabbed the soldier’s legs and drug him behind a set of bushes.
Wolverine gave him a curt nod, before following Cyclops in a low crouch. Beast was to stand lookout well he and Cyclops went into the containment building.
“You ready?” Wolverine asked in a low growl stepping beside Cyclops.
“Don’t worry about me. You just worry about yourself.”
There was a low hum preceding the powerful optic blast that erupted from the visor on Scott’s face, punching a truck sized hole in the side of the building. Immediately alarms began blaring, lights flashing.
“Go! Go! Go!” Soldiers were filing out of the barracks, fifteen of them at most, even less than Wolverine had expected. Wolverine glanced over his shoulder, checking on Beast, who was more than holding his own, bouncing off soldier’s heads and flinging them through the air.
Cyclops‘s startled voice caught his attention. “Holy shit.”
Wolverine stepped through the still smoldering, gaping hole to see what had caught Cyclops’s attention. In several containment cells the occupant had been chained to the wall and shot in the head. Executed.
Cyclops‘s tone was harsh. “I thought you said this was a training facility.”
“It is. These are the ones that didn’t cut it.”
“Sick.”
Wolverine grunted. His knuckles itched and he tried to push back the memories threatening to surface. Blood and screams. Blood and screams. The pain. The pleasure. He felt himself shaking, the rage escalating.
“Where are the others?” Cyclops asked interrupting the resurgence, looking around at the empty holding cells.
“Moved.” Wolverine sniffed the air. “Not long ago. Maybe an hour, two tops.”
Cyclops moved along the rows, still looking. “Where to?”
Wolverine sniffed some more, catching faint traces of blood and urine and death. They were familiar scents. “No live scents ta follow,” he said flatly.
“Let’s check the other building.” Cyclops moved back through the hole he had created, kicking the rubble in frustration as he went. He was discouraged and was feeling helpless. It was not a feeling he enjoyed.
Both men traveled silently across the gravel, entering the second containment facility exactly how they entered the first. Wolverine smelled death long before they were inside, however what lay within sent chills through both seasoned X-Men.
Laying motionless on long, narrow, sterile steel tables were several obviously tortured mutants. Some of their eyes remained open in terror, though glazed in death, it was apparent the last moments of their lives were filled with excruciating panic and pain. On a larger metal table in the center of the room a young man lay, arms outstretched, needles and tubes inserted in all directions, his chest cavity wide open, flies swarming the wound.
Cyclops turned his head away, covering his nose to block the stench. “Jesus.”
Wolverine walked along the rows, counting the bodies. Twelve. He grit his teeth against the anger surging through him. Twelve kids, some barely in their teens, used and abused by Weapon X. The lone youth in the center of the room had shaggy brown hair and jagged fangs. Wolverine stepped beside him and reached down with his leather covered hand, closing the boy’s eyes.
“What in hell were they doing in here?” Cyclops was completely taken aback by the atrocities surrounding him.
“Experiments.” He was once one of the tortured, the used, the abused. He struggled to repress the emotions the room was conjuring up in him. Anger. Pain. Fear. Pain. Hate. Pleasure. Rage. Pain. Needles. Pain. Needles. Pleasure. Blood. Pain. Snap out of it! “Ain’t no survivors here, Cyke.”
With a quick nod Cyclops agreed. They moved outside once again, making their way up towards Beast and the ‘Bird, keeping their eyes and ears open for any sign of life. No survivors. Not one.
Cyclops raised his comm. “Cyclops to Xavier. Intel proved accurate. Military facility for containment. No survivors.”
“I see.”
“Orders?”
“Obliterate the base.”
“Affirmative.” Cyclops reached into the pack he was carrying at his waist, pulling out several small black discs. He handed several to Wolverine. Without a word exchanged both men began placing the mines along the base of the buildings.
Beast greeted them as they approached, a small pile of unconscious soldiers behind him. “Where do we put these gentlemen.”
“I say we leave ‘em. Let their last memories be the smell of their own burning‘ flesh.” Wolverine growled, walking past without a backward glance.
“The X-Men don’t willingly kill, Wolverine,” Cyclops called after him to which Wolverine shrugged pulling a cigar from his front pocket.
“Maybe ya outta rethink that policy.” He was on board the Blackbird a moment later. Once Cyclops and Beast secured the soldiers in one of the smaller buildings, clear of the blast zone they were in the air, heading home and all Wolverine could think was how much he could use a beer. A beer and ‘Ro. She was the only thing that could soothe the monster within him that this place had stirred to life.


Xavier Institute
War Room

Ororo leaned forward resting her chin on the knuckles of her fist. The monitors had been shut off awhile ago, the others leaving at her request. She sat alone in the room, expanding shadows enveloping her as the sun finally rested behind the horizon. She heaved a heavy sigh, thinking of the look on Wolverine’s face as he had entered the Blackbird. Whatever they had seen at the base hadn’t been pretty and it had bothered him. To anyone else Wolverine would have seemed unfazed, completely removed from emotion, but not to her. She knew him too well, knew his soul and he was being eaten alive from the inside.
She wanted to help him, help to ease his suffering, but more and more lately he was pushing her away, closing himself off to her and that was killing her. She was at a loss, not knowing what to do or to say to help him. There was so much about his past that remained clouded in false memories or hidden by no memories at all.
She rose, agitated. His shutting her out was infuriating her as much as it was frustrating her. They were married. Husband and wife. A team. He’d better come to accept the fact that they were in everything together now. Everything. And that meant he wasn’t going to be able to keep her at arms length and allow her in when it suited him. The sooner he got that through his thick, adamantium skull, the better.
Ororo looked up at the clock and grimaced. It would be hours before she would see him again, between the time it would take them to get back, and the debriefing it would be late. She shoved the high backed chair against the table, deciding that she’d rather wait for him at home, where she and he were free of the restraints imposed as X-Men and allowed to just be Logan and Ororo.

Later

Logan made his way over the sloping hill that led to his and Ororo’s home, his pace quickening as he approached. He could see the faint glow of the bedside lamp in the upstairs window and knew Ororo was waiting up for him. That thought warmed him. She was so good to him, so loving, so generous. He would never be worthy of her, his hands too stained with countless sins, not deserving to touch such innocence. Even knowing this he would never let her go, and he would kill anyone that tried to take her away from him now that she was his.
“’Ro?” He opened the door. No answer. “Babe?” He stood silent for a moment, listening. He could hear her moving around upstairs and smiled. He hung his coat and unstrapped his uniform boots, leaving them on the mat beside the door, padding up the stairs quietly.
Ororo was in the center of their room, her eyes closed, arms over her head, dancing and jumping to the blaring music coming from the headphones on her ears. Logan leaned against the door jamb watching her, a half smile on his face. The mere sight of her dispersed the darkness he had been wallowing in since the mission. She was damn adorable bouncing around in an oversized tee shirt and bunny slippers (a gift from Ali), her wild hair swinging around as she spun, shaking her ass. She was on her way back up from a sexy little shimmy when she opened her eyes and noticed him in the door way.
“Logan!” Ororo jumped, her hand flying to her chest. She pulled the headphones off, stopping the cd. “Goddess, you startled me!”
He chuckled. “Don’t let me stop ya, darlin’. I was enjoyin’ the show.”
Ororo tossed the walkman onto the nightstand. She gave him a searching look and though he was smiling, his eyes still held a haunted look that was becoming all too familiar. “Come here.” She opened her arms.
Logan uncrossed his ankles, moving towards her with purpose. She welcomed him home with open arms every time they were apart and he secretly feared the day when she would not. He enveloped her ardently, burying his face in her snowy, silken strands, breathing in her unique scent, nuzzling the spot just below her ear that sent little shivers along her spine.
Ororo clung to him, her fingers curling into the black latex and spandex fabric of his uniform top. She pressed her lips to his neck, kissing softly, nibbling teasingly.
Logan groaned, walking her backward towards the bed. She laughed softly as he tossed her down, literally leaping at her, growling playfully. This was her Logan, the one that smiled, the one that laughed and teased and played. She squirmed away from him in mock distress. “Oh, heavens no, don’t ravish me. Please, please, don’t have your wicked way with me.” She laughed throatily as he lifted her shirt, pressing his lips to her belly and blowing against her, making loud raspberry sounds. She squealed, trying to twist away from him, laughing until she hiccupped.
“Oh (hic) now look what (hic) you’ve done (hic).”
Logan chuckled, unapologetic. He returned his mouth to her flat stomach, but instead of blowing he licked her, trailing hot kisses to her navel, where his tongue dipped, teasing her belly button ring. Ororo gasped, her fingers twitching in their new blue comforter and Logan grinned. She was so responsive, always eagerly accepting him and he loved her for it. He moved lower, grabbing the lace edge of her panties between his teeth, grinning wickedly as he dragged them off of her.
For a minute he just stared at her, enthralled by her. There she was, laying on their bed, tee shirt shoved just below her breasts, bare from the waist down, until her feet, still clad in fuzzy bunnies. She should have looked ridiculous, but she didn’t. She looked young and desirable and he ached for her. “’Ro,” he groaned. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, cross armed, yanking it over his head. She sat up on the bed, doing the same to her shirt, kicking of her slippers.
Once she was wonderfully naked she reached for him, grabbing the buckle of his pants and yanking him towards her. She made quick work of his belt, flinging it across the room, uncaring where it landed. She was working the button when they heard a knock on the door.
“Ignore it,” he growled, tilting her face to his, kissing her deeply.
Ororo sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her bare skin to his, making his growl deepen.
Knock. Knock. “Storm? Are you awake?”
Jean. What the hell?
Ororo reluctantly pulled away from him. “I’d better go see what she wants.”
“Whatever it is it can wait,” he grumbled, licking her ear.
Shivering with desire Ororo had a hard time placing her hand on his chest, pushing slightly. “Logan. She sounds upset.”
He released her with a dissatisfied huff. “Yer too damn good.” he muttered. He ran one hand through his hair, giving a nasal sigh. “Go talk to Jean. I’ll be taking a cold shower.”
Ororo grinned at his back as he marched down the stairs. She pulled on her long baby blue fuzzy robe (a gift from Gambit, matching the slippers) and followed him downstairs. Logan was already in the kitchen, grabbing a beer, heading towards the bathroom when she opened the door for a miserable looking Jean Grey. “Hello, Jean. What can I do for you?”
“Hi. I’m really sorry to come over so late, but I…Well, I needed someone to talk to.” Jean looked positively mortified by the admission.
Ororo took a step back, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
Jean looked a bit startled, as if she had expected Ororo to slam the door in her face. In the months that had passed since Storm’s arrival to the X-Men she and Jean had shared a strained relationship, and although they were now civil with one another, they weren’t considered friends by any standard.
“Um, thanks.” Jean stepped through the door. “You have a lovely home,” she said softly, honestly. It was the first time she had ever been inside.
The boathouse had signs of both Logan and Ororo’s touch. The colors were earthy and natural, dark browns, some rustic reds and beige to accent. The kitchen was small, but quaint, with a hanging fruit basket over the red and green marble topped bar Logan had installed last summer. Plants and several exotic flowers lined the large windows. The soft overhead light illuminated the newly stripped and polished hardwood floors, giving the interior a warm feeling. The living room area housed a long couch and two recliners, set in a semi circle, atop a large oriental rug, very Loganesque. A dark coffee table sat between the furniture, a small Bonsai tree in the center and two tall freestanding lamps were beside either dark recliner. The furniture was all facing the small, gate guarded fireplace on the brick wall. Above the mantel sat an ornately decorated Japanese blade, curved with a black handle and a scarlet tassel.
Logan had worked hard all summer, making things just so for Ororo, even though she had told him she would be content in a cardboard box so long as she was with him. He had even installed a large skylight in the middle of winter as a Christmas present for her. It had been the most touching thing anyone had ever done for her and she had made certain he knew how much it meant to her.
“Can I get you a drink?” Ororo asked closing the door.
“That would be nice.”
“Have a seat.” She indicated that Jean should sit in the living room before going to the kitchen and putting the kettle on the stove, removing two mugs for some chamomile tea.
Jean slowly sat in on of the two recliners, her eyes traveling the walls, where several pictures hung. There was one of Kitty under an oak tree, half phazed through it, smiling and waving. Another of Alison and Gambit, they were facing each other, one of his gloved hands cradling Alison’s face, with the sun setting behind them. It was really a lovely picture, Jean mused. There was also a picture of a man and a woman holding a tiny baby, and the woman’s beauty told who she was instantly.
“My mother,” Ororo said, coming around the couch with two steaming mugs. “And my father.” She handed Jean a cup before seating on the edge of the couch, diagonal from Jean. “The day I was born.”
“They look happy,” Jean murmured.
“They were.” Ororo smiled faintly. “But I don’t think you’re here to talk about my parents.” It was still a touchy place for Ororo, especially where Jean was concerned.
Jean shook her head. “No. I came because of Scott.”
“What’s pretty boy done?” Ororo sipped her tea.
“Nothing.” Jean’s lower lip trembled. “I just picked up the most disturbing thoughts from him, Storm. He‘s thinking horrible nasty thoughts, full of anger and pain. I‘ve never sensed things like that from him before. It was, is…frightening.”
Ororo nodded. “Although Wolverine hasn’t said anything, I think today’s mission was an exceptionally difficult one. I get the feeling Cyclops is the type of guy to take failure, or even perceived failure, very personal.”
She shook her head sadly. “He is, but Scott has never shut me out before.” Jean gave Ororo an imploring look. “It was so intense. How do you deal with that?”
For a moment Ororo was silent. She took a long drink of her tea before answering. “You just have to be there. You have to understand that sometimes a person just needs a little space, and sometimes they need a lot of space.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the hall. “You just have to remind yourself that its not you that he’s angry at.”
Jean sighed. “So what do you think I should do?”
“Take him some tea.”
“Huh?”
“Take him some tea, or make him so cocoa or give him a six pack. Leave a note, let him know you’ll be there when he’s ready. Don’t let the anger scare you away, because it shouldn’t. Everyone gets angry, everybody gets tired, and like it or not, everyone lashes out, especially against those we love the most. My advice, Jean, is if you love him, really love him, then just be there when he needs you to help him find his way. I don’t know you or Cyclops well enough to tell you how you should handle your relationship, nor should I have to. However, if I were you, I would hold fast to the feelings you share and see him through whatever it is he’s going through now.”
Jean smiled slightly. “He’s a very lucky man.”
“Scott?”
“No. Wolverine.” Jean stood. “Thank you, Storm. I know I’ve done some terrible things to you in the past, and I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused you.”
Ororo shrugged. “It’s done. We’ll be fine just so long as you don’t go all bunny-boiler on me.”
Jean raised one arched brow. “Bunny-boiler?”
“Forget it.” Ororo walked Jean to the door.
“Thanks for talking to me.”
“No problem. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Ororo watched until Jean was over the hill before turning out the front light. When she turned Logan was directly behind her, his gaze intense. “Log--” She was pulled tight against his wet chest, his mouth silencing hers in a forceful kiss, his tongue demanding entry. Ororo made a small sound that only seemed to inflame Logan further and pressed her against the door, wrenching her robe open, cupping her breasts in his palms, stroking the tips with his calloused thumbs.
Logan growled into her mouth, his body a raging inferno of passion. He had heard every word she said to Jean and he knew she was speaking from the heart, from her experiences with him. She cried out softly as he nudged her legs apart, lifting her and impaling her on his erection in one forceful motion. He rocked against her, holding her against the door, sliding in and out in frantic rhythm.
“Logan, mmmm.” She lifted her legs, holding him about the waist, clutching his shoulders.
“I love ya, ‘Ro.” He said softly, tenderly, even as his body dominated hers.
Ororo smiled at him so sweetly he froze. Staring into the deep swirling depths of her eyes he saw how much she loved him and he was arrested.
“Logan?”
“Ya can’t know what it does ta me ta see ya look at me like that,” he rasped.
Ororo gave him a confused look. “Like what?”
“Like I’m the only thing that matters,” he said gruffly.
She moved on him slowly. “You are, Logan. The only thing that matters to me. Now and forever, love.”
He buried his face in her neck, moaning her name.

~~~~

They were torturing him again. He bit back a scream as he felt a strip of flesh being peeled from his back, the sickening wet sound echoing in his ears. Laughter. Cold and detached. They were enjoying this, enjoying his pain, his grunts of agony. But he wouldn’t scream, he wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. Fuckers. Another long strip torn away.
The room was spinning, tilting and he was suddenly falling, landing with a thud, his body jarring on impact. They were dropping him again, to see if there was a limit to the height he could fall from and survive. None so far. Faceless soldiers approached. -SNIKT- Gutted. Dead. Gunfire and pain. Black void.
He was in a fluid filled tank his body arching in tremendous agony. Voices. Fusion? Adamantium. Holding steady. Pain. Burning. Violation.
The helmet on his head filling his mind with savage images, death, torture, rape. He tried to fight, he wasn’t this way, he wasn’t an animal, he was a man. A man. A man.
Pain. Injections. Lust. Fear. Rage. Fear. Pain. Needles. Laughter. His.
Animal. Savage beast. Killer. Hunter. He gloried in it, relished the screams of his victims, the smell of their fear. His blades were sinking deep, through tissue and bone, into vital organs, a low gurgle of blood in the throat let him know his victim would soon be dead, but not too soon. Slow, unstoppable, miserable death. He drew back, savage smile, blood dripping from his hands.
Faceless victims, faceless keepers, faceless enemies. He fell to his knees. Not me, not me, not me. Not an animal. Not an animal.
Cold steel tables. Incisions, probes. Hooks and wires. Blades. Dark eyes over a surgical mask. Cornelius.
Cages and pain. Needles and pain. Blood and pain. Hate. Hurt. Fear. Hate. Hurt. Rage. Blood. Death. Blood. Screams. Blood. Death. Blood. Screams. Escape. Freedom. Caged. Locked. Tortured. The helmet. Fear. Hate. Rage. Lust.
-SNIKT-
~~~~

“Logan…?” Ororo touched his shoulder. He had awakened her, thrashing in the bed, broken sounds coming from him.
Wolverine lifted his head, and for a brief moment Ororo swore his eyes flashed red in the dark. His lips curled back as he stared at her, snarling in a guttural way she had never heard before. She was reaching for him again when he grabbed her wrists painfully and pinned her to the bed forcibly. He growled at her like a demon possessed, and she could see no recognition in his eyes, no trace of the man she loved, only the wild fury of his inner beast.
Wolverine sniffed. His mind was clouded, a red haze of rage and…need. Suddenly he removed his hands from her wrists, -SNIKT- and her nightgown was gone. He restrained her hips with bruising force, holding her still as he thrust into her, tearing her tender passage. He buried himself as deeply as he could, ripping her with his savage movements. He held her firm as she tried to slide away, his thrusts violent.
Ororo’s shocked cry was muffled against his shoulder. He seemed not to hear, lost in whatever darkness had claimed him well he slept. The scent of blood, mingled with her scent drove the beast in him mad with lust, feeding his red haze of need, triggering every bestial and predatory instinct he had.
Ororo struggled futilely against him. He was hurting her, his strength terrifying, he was stretching her, tearing her. “Stop,” she sobbed. His hands gripped her fiercely, his teeth moving over her, everywhere it seemed, biting and marking. Low, deep growls of warning rumbled from his throat as she struggled. The more she tried to move away from him, the more brutal he became, seeking domination. He jerked her legs wider apart, baring his teeth at her as he proceeded to fuck her.
She felt his hand tangle in her hair scant seconds before he forced her head back. Pain, hot and burning sliced through her as his teeth clamped on her neck, his canines piercing deep. She cried out in protest, but he held her head to the side and pinned her down easily beneath his superior weight, keeping her open and vulnerable while he took his pleasure, his base grunts sounding in her ear. Her blood flowed freely from the wound on her neck and as he tasted the spicy essence his body drove into hers over and over, harder and deeper, harder and faster.
He had never known such pleasure. Her blood filling his mouth, her body tight and hot. The smell of sex and blood teasing his nostrils. Rapture. He was wild, seeking more, needing more, he’d never get enough of her. More. He surged harder, his fingers now locked on her hips, bruising her. Harder. More. Faster. More.
Logan no longer existed. The raging beast in his place was killing her, using her body without his usual tender care, without feeling, without love, only seeking to dominate her.
The room was blurring and Ororo knew she was weak from losing so much blood. She could feel herself slipping away, her mind and body becoming numb as her husband pounded into her, tearing at her, biting her. She accepted this from him because she knew he was not in control and she worried for him. He had endured so much, too much, pain and she knew he had tried to keep it locked inside for so long. He had walked the line between man and animal for so long, his sheer will power keeping him from falling into madness. Logan. Her love, her life, her other half. He thought himself a soulless monster, a wild beast devoid of feeling, but she knew better. He felt, felt with an intensity like no other. He had held out so long against the darkness that those Weapon X monsters had put in him, and it pained her to see him lost as he was now, trapped in his own private hell. Ororo closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, accepting him as he was.
Her fingers found the silken, sweat dampened hair at the nape of his neck, and she stroked it with familiar tenderness, forcing her own pain from her mind, focused on seeing him through. Wolverine. The wild one. Dark. Savage. Lawless and feared. Always alone. No longer, she thought. She would not let him face this alone, she would stay with him as long as she could, warding off the chill in her body and the tremors that shook her from loss of blood.
She bit her lip as his teeth sank into the tender swell of her breast, but she held back the tears. Her hands stroked his wild hair, cradling his head to her breast, giving herself to him. “I’m here…” she whispered. “I love you.”
She felt him tense at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t stop, still taking her with callous aggression. He was snarling, reared back, watching her as he tore into her.
“I belong… to you,” she said brokenly. “And you…to me… I will not let you face the darkness alone, Logan. I am giving myself to you, husband, so do not… condemn yourself… when this is over. You have done nothing wrong.” Her breathing was shallow now, making it hard to talk.
He continued to move within her, but she felt a subtle shift, like he was trying to find himself, to fight his way back to her. She moved against him slowly, trying to coax him back to her, slowing their momentum. “Can you feel me, Logan?” She moved again. She was weak and lethargic but she refused to give up until he was back. She moved her hands along his shoulders, cradling his jaw, forcing his head up, meeting the molten silver of his feral gaze unflinchingly. “The darkness can’t have you, Logan,” she rasped. “You belong to me.” He roared at her, and briefly she saw a flash of recognition. He jerked out of her, roughly flipping her onto her stomach, taking her from behind. Ororo cried out at his brutal entry, too weak to move away from him. He fisted her hair, biting her shoulder. She closed her eyes, a single scalding tear slipping past. He was increasing momentum now, his grunts and pants more urgent. He was close, she knew. A broken cry escaped her as he thrust one hand between her legs, stroking her, then lifting his bloodied fingers to his lips. Using the last of her energy she whispered to him. “I am yours in all ways. You are my heart, Logan. I accept you in all forms…even this one…feel no shame, love…I am with you.”
Ororo. In the deep red haze Logan heard her speaking. She sounded far away, but he heard her, calling to him, bringing him back from the dark and into the light. Finally, the beast roared, shuddering a forceful climax, emptying himself into the body in front of him. His breathing was ragged and painful, torn from deep inside.
Several minutes passed as he was slowly regaining himself, unsure of his surroundings. Logan raised his head and a sound of terrible anguish tore from his throat. Ororo lay limply on the bed, bruised and scratched, several ragged bite marks marring the creamy caramel of her skin. Blood and semen trickled down her thighs and he let out a mournful cry. He rolled her over and caught the back of her head in his palm, fearful of he way her head lolled to the side like a broken flower, revealing a fang slashed wound on her neck.
“Ro…” his voice was hoarse and raw. “Aw, God, baby.” He lifted her against him, her arms falling limp at her sides. He felt his throat close, his entire being focused on the lifeless woman in his arms.
“…Logan…”
He struggled to breathe.
“Love…you…”
Christ. He felt his entire body quake with emotion. He lifted her, carrying her to their bathroom. He gave the faucet handles a viscous twist, filling the tub with hot, steamy water while he tended to the gaping wound at her neck. He was shaken by the similarity between this night and the night Shaw had attacked her. The difference being Shaw hadn’t raped her, he had. His gut clenched and he fought the urge to vomit.
Ororo jerked as he lowered her into the tub, her body raw and wounded. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms about her legs, shivering despite the steamy water. His hands closed helplessly in on themselves. He wanted to ease her, but had no idea how. His chest heaved with each labored breath he took. His beautiful, precious ‘Ro and he had used her. Self loathing swelled.
“Stop it,” she whispered, resting her cheek on her knees, looking at him.
“Don’t.” He said hoarsely. “Don’t try and tell me I’m not an animal, ‘Ro.” He gave her a pained look. “Just look at what I did ta ya. For fuck’s sake I raped you!”
“No.” She shook her. “I gave myself to you.”
“Yes! Only because ya knew I wouldn‘t stop!” He gestured to his still naked form, coated with her blood and his semen. “Look at what I did to--” He dropped to his knees. “What I did…” He lowered his head into his hands, unable to voice more. “How can you look at me?”
“Logan.” She waited for him to look at her. When he didn’t she repeated his name.
“I can’t…” he stood stepping away from the tub. “I can’t be near ya now. Not after what I did ta ya.”
Ororo splashed him angrily. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare walk out that door, Logan!”
She glared at him, and he was amazed that she was completely unafraid of him. He didn’t think he could stand fear in her eyes when she looked at him, but she needed to understand what a brutal monster he was. Her blue eyes fastened on him with unwavering intensity. She rose shakily to her feet, stepping from the tub, closing the small distance separating them, circling his waist with her arms, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.
“I was afraid for you, Logan,” there were tears in her voice, “but not of you. We are a part of each other and I could feel your pain, your inner struggle, just as I feel you now. You are not a monster.”
“Why can’t you see me for what I am?” he demanded. “A fuckin’ animal!”
She slapped him. Hard. “You are my husband. The man I would die for and my best friend. Don’t insult my intelligence by implying I am unable to see what you are. I see you! I see your very soul! You’re the jackass too wrapped up in stupid bullshit to get your head out of your ass and realize what it is you are! What WE are.”
He was taken aback by the vehemence in her voice. “Ororo. You don’t know what you’re saying…”
“Wolverine, if you question my lucidity one more time I swear to the Bright lady I will bodycheck you through a fucking wall!”
His jaw dropped. Ororo was pissed. “’Ro, I don’t understand--”
“What’s to understand? I love you. Period. Oh, for crying out loud, a child of five could understand this. Fetch me a child of five!” Her eyes flashed blue-white.
“How can you still love me?” he whispered.
Ororo’s anger seeped from her at his forlorn look. “Wash up and carry me to bed. We’ll talk up there.”
He jerked. “You want to go back up there?”
“Of course I do. I need my bunny slippers.”
Logan washed himself with shaking hands, still in shock over what had occurred. Ororo sat wrapped in a towel, waiting patiently. He turned off the shower, wrapping his own towel about his waist. She looked up at him expectantly. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” She reached for his hand. “We face it together.”
Logan lifted her carefully into his arms and she trustingly laid her head on his shoulder, her arms linking around his neck. He shook with the intensity of his love for her and she whispered soothing sounds into his ear.
At the doorway to their bedroom his steps faltered, his breathing becoming agitated. Ororo smoothed her hand along his shoulders, whispering, “In that room we celebrate our love for each other. That’s the room where you read to me while I sit on your lap. In that room you sing me to sleep. Behind that door lay a thousand beautiful memories, Logan. Remember each one of them now. Remember Christmas morning? Remember Gambit running up the stairs at four in the morning, hopping into our bed like a troublesome boy, demanding to open presents. Remember? Remember picking out the carpet together? I still can’t believe you talked me into blue just because you said it matched my eyes.” She laughed softly. “Remember not having a bed for two days after we broke the last one?” She nuzzled his cheek. “Remember the bawdy little song we sang together after a wild night at Harry‘s?” She pushed open the door with her foot. The bed was in disarray, the comforter and blankets crumpled on the floor. “Remember how you held me our first night here. Remember the poem you wrote me. I never figured you for the type, but it was beautiful. In that bed we share our dreams, our hopes, our bodies and our hearts.” She kissed his cheek. “Take me to our bed, husband.”
Logan walked slowly across the room, his arms tightening on her as the got closer to the bed. “…’Ro…”
“I’m here. We’re together.”
He lowered her slowly after yanking all the covers off, leaving only a sheet and their pillows. She opened her arms. “Come to me.”
He stood frozen at the bedside, staring at her, incredulous at her willingness to even be in the same room with him. She smiled gently, her eyes warming to deep cerulean. “We took vows, Logan. For better or worse. They meant something to me, how about you?”
He lowered himself to the bed, enfolding her in his muscular arms, shaking as he wept. “I’m sorry. So sorry,” he said into her hair. He closed his tightly, his face contorting in pain. “’Roro, I’m so sorry.”
Ororo stroked his hair, holding him as her own tears flowed. She began to whisper softly to him and he recognized the poem he had written her,
“I kneel before you,
Here I am,
My heart laid bare,
You're all that I want
All that I wish to be,

When I struggle,
You are my strength,
Without you,
I can't go on,

I give myself to you,
Only sorry that I am not more,
All my anger and bitterness,
A poison to what you are,
Then night falls on me,
And I can’t let go
With you I am alive,

You constantly ignore the signs,
Fight through the pain consuming me,
You cut deep,
You’ve laid my heart bare,

I can never walk away from you,
My life and soul are yours to command,
I sleep with your hair tangled in my fist,
Moonlight on the soft brown earth,
That’s what it is,
That’s what you are,

Sometimes I can barely make my way through the darkness of my heart,
Then you are there, with your beautiful sky,
The light you bring,
Making it impossible for me to hide,
I hide no more,
My heart is laid bare.”

Slowly the shudders subsided and he took a deep, steadying breath. When he raised damp eyes to hers she leaned forward, kissing him softly, lovingly. “Together we can get through anything,” she said. “Don’t shut me out, Logan. don’t push me away.”
He stroked her cheek, regret in his steel eyes. “I can’t take the chance of hurting you again, ‘Ro.”
Ororo tensed. “I love you. You don’t have to face this alone. I need you. You need me.”
Logan pushed her hair away from her face. “I’ll go make you some tea,” he murmured after a time.
She smiled softly, nodding. “That would be nice.”
In the kitchen Logan stumbled against the counter his grief taking hold. He lowered his head, gritting his teeth against the roar that dwelled in his chest. He was a mother fucker of the worst kind and she still wanted to be with him. He felt sick at what he’d done and despite her obvious forgiveness he was unable to forgive himself.
He put the kettle on, going to the bathroom where he was violently ill. He returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, lifting the kettle mid-whistle, pouring its contents into her favorite jumbo mug.
“Here ya go,” he said softly, his voice still gruff.
“Thanks.” She took the mug and sipped. “We’ll be okay, Logan,” she whispered.
“Sshh, darlin’. Just relax,” he stroked her hair behind her ear.
She gave him a beseeching look. “Hold me?”
Logan nodded, moving to sit with his back pressed to the headboard. She moved between his legs, leaning back against him, slowly savoring the warmth of his body and the soothing effects of the tea. He stroked her hair, murmuring soothingly, encouraging her to finish her drink and rest.
Ororo’s eyelids felt heavy, like they weighed a ton. She struggled to keep them up, her vision blurring. She felt Logan’s lips on her cheek, felt the splash of his tears on her face. She felt him shift beneath her, laying her on the pillows, covering her in the sheet. Her heart crumbled. “You’re… leaving me…aren’t you…” she could barely speak she was so tired. He had put something in her tea, she realized with an agonizing jolt. “Please…stay…”
Logan watched her until she was deep asleep, her soft words echoing in his head. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t put her in that kind of danger again. She deserved better, far better than he could ever be. He packed quickly, taking only some necessities and enough cash to get by for awhile from their wall safe. He stood in the doorway, staring at her over his shoulder. She looked like an angel fallen from heaven, and he was the devil, he thought furiously. “Love ya, ‘Ro.”
Gambit came awake in the attic loft that was once Storm’s, but was now his and Ali’s, when he heard the rumble of a motorcycle engine roaring to life. He walked to the balcony doors just in time to see a lone figure edge past the gates and burn rubber into the night. He gripped the railing, a feeling of dread sinking into him.
“What’s wrong, Yummy?” Ali asked from the bed with a yawn.
“Everyt’in, petite. Everyt’in.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Boathouse


The morning light found Ororo laying in bed, eyes open, staring at her bedroom wall unblinking, laying in exactly the same position as she had been in for the past two days. Ororo felt the bed dip behind her, but didn’t turn. It wasn’t him.
“Come now, padnat.” Gambit tugged her shoulder gently. “Time t’ get up.” He had gone to her immediately following Wolverine’s departure, and he had been horrified at the state he found her in. Her neck had been torn open, bite marks and bruises covering every visible inch of exposed flesh, though now mostly healed he would never forget the sight. He had swore and cursed and vented, but she had only slept. He had wanted to follow Wolverine and thrash him, shove a deck of cards down his throat, beat him, shake him and make him suffer, but he had stayed with Storm, waiting for her to wake. She did so hours later as the sun reached midday. He had expected her anger and was even prepared for her tears, but what he had received was an icy stare and sullen silence. When he asked what had happened she had simply said, “He’s gone,” before curling on her side in a fetal position and staring at the wall, her beautiful face impassive.
Gambit snapped his fingers in front of her now, trying to gain her attention. Storm didn’t even blink. No reaction at all. He glanced up through the skylight at the bright sunshine. She was repressing herself, storing everything inside in carefully compartmentalized boxes and he knew how unhealthy that was, especially for her. She needed to open up, to let it out. “C’mon, Stormy. We’re worried ‘bout you, chere.”
“Enough of this shit,” Ali’s voice sounded seconds before she threw pale of icy water over her morose friend.
Storm flew up from the bed, sputtering as the freezing water dripped from her face. She fixed Alison with a frosty stare and Ali grinned cheekily at her.
“Ali, what you doin’, petite?” Gambit demanded in surprise.
Instead of replying Ali reached down, picking up Ororo’s fuzzy robe and holding it out to the sodden woman glaring icy fire at her. “You plan on coming back to the land of the living, Storm? Or do I bug Drake for another bucket?”
Wrenching the robe from Ali’s hand Ororo glowered. “I should strike you where you stand.”
“But you won’t. You’d miss me.”
For a moment it looked like Storm’s icy shell was going to crack, her lower lip quivered slightly, but she took a slow breath, collecting herself. “Perhaps.” She slid on her robe. “But I doubt it.”
“Hey, Yummers, beat feet to the mansion and grab us some grub.”
Gambit nodded, knowing Alison wanted a few minutes alone with Storm. He smiled his charming smile. “Any requests, Stormy?”
“Yeah. Stop calling me that ridiculous name.”
“Never.” He gave Alison a quick hard kiss, then was gone in a flash.
“So?” Ali crossed her bare arms.
Ororo said nothing. She turned away from Ali and picked up the mug still on the nightstand, staring at the brown tea stains on the bottom. With a wordless cry of rage she flung the mug at the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shattered. Thunder rumbled overhead. Ororo panted, trying to reign it in, but Ali wouldn’t let her.
“Let it out, Storm.”
“Leave it, Ali.”
“No. He left you. Walked out on your vows. Abandoned you.”
Ororo’s eyes welled. “Shut up.”
Ali shook her head. “You loved him and he left! He left you!”
Thunder rolled and the winds began to howl. Storm’s eyes swirled from blue to white and she hovered in the air, her hair crackling with electricity. “Shut up, Ali!”
Ali stood her ground. “You gave him your heart and that fucker trod all over it. He’s a worthless piece of womanizing shit, who walked out on you like you were nothing. Nothing to him!” Lightening flashed, sizzling in the now torrential downpour.
“Stop!” Ororo was crying now, tears coursing along her face.
“He fucking left you, Storm! He’s a coward and a jerk and you’re gonna let him stomp all over you, aren’t you? You’re just gonna lay in that bed and die. Why? Because you don’t have that fucking worthless bastard hovering around?”
Ali was thrown across the room, held against the wall by powerful wind. Storm’s eyes glowed brightly. Alison smirked. “So does that mean you still love him, Storm? How much? Is he worth getting out of bed for? Is he worth fighting for?”
The winds ceased and Ororo fell to the carpet, crying, her shoulders shaking with each wracking sob. “I tried to fight for him! I tried!” Lightening flashed again, bright white against the clouds swirling overhead. “Oh, Ali…I lost him…” She buried her face in her hands, screaming.
Ali knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her and rocking with Ororo as she lamented. “I wasn’t enough! I tried…oh, Ali, I miss him!”
“I know,” Ali said sympathetically. “I know. Let it come, Storm.”
Ororo cried harder.
“We’re ’ere, padnat.” Gambit was in the bedroom again, having turned back immediately upon the first rumble of thunder. He knelt on the opposite side of Storm, across from Ali, wrapping his arms around her and grasping the hand of his love. Ali met his eyes and they shared a look of tenderness and sympathy over Ororo’s bent head. Their sister needed them. He kissed Storm’s hair, rubbing her back with his free hand. Together the three of them sat, rocking as the rain pounded and the winds howled. Storm buried her face in Gambit’s chest, clutching his shirt.
“I hate him!!” she cried raggedly. “I hate him!!”



Somewhere in Canada
Three days later


Wolverine snubbed his cigar out in the glass ashtray in front of him, indicating with two fingers he wanted another beer as the bartender passed. He glanced up at the small television mounted in the corner behind the bar. Although it was turned down, he could pick up the words easily.
“…and good news for the US east coast as those sudden, unexpected hurricanes seem to have finally dissipated. The US National Weather Service issued a statement claiming atmospheric anomalies as the cause for the unexpected outbreak of storms and violent weather….”
Atmospheric anomalies his ass. It was ‘Ro. Wolverine ran one hand through his hair, exhaling a long, shaky breath, looking at the bar, absently flicking a couple of stray peanuts off the top. She was hurting. He had hurt her. It killed him to know that, but it was better this way then if he had stayed. He couldn’t risk another night like… Christ, he couldn’t even think it.
The bar tender slid his beer to him and as Wolverine reached for his wallet the gray bearded man shook his head. “On the lady.” He pointed down the bar. Wolverine swiveled on his stool, looking down the bar. A sexy, very attractive brunette lifted her glass in his direction. She was well endowed and not at all shy about showing it, her red shirt revealing deep cleavage. She crossed her legs as he looked at her, making the already dangerously high skirt shift even further up her legs. She flashed him a knowing smile, and he got the impression she was used to being ogled. Wolverine turned back to the bar, tossing his bills on the counter regardless. “No thanks,” he said.
The bartender looked befuddled, shaking his head and taking the money. Wolverine knew that most men would give their left nut for a woman that attractive to hit on them, but then again, most men had never had a woman like ‘Ro. Just thinking of her made him ache with such fierce longing he had to forcibly refrain from allowing his claws to pop out. He finished his beer quickly, anxious to get out, back on the road.
“Hey,” the brunette approached him.
Wolverine grunted at her. He stood, brushing past her.
“Hey, pal, my sister’s talking ta ya.” A large, meaty palm clapped on Wolverine’s leather clad shoulder.
He barely turned his head, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Let go, Bub.”
The man squeezed. A slow grin spread on Wolverine’s face. Violence. Familiar, welcome violence. He turned, grabbing the guy’s beefy wrist, twisting and snapping bone, kicking one foot in the man’s gut, sending him sprawling. Two more men were on him before the first had hit the floor. With effortless skill Wolverine made quick work of the other two. As the men lay bloody on the floor, crawling away from him, he said, “C’mon, that’s it?”
“Not quite.” Wolverine glanced over his shoulder. The bartender was leveling a sawed off shout gun at his head. “Say yer sorry ta my boys.”
“They started it, Pops. If anyone should be sorry it’s you fer raising such blubbering pussies.”
“Why you--”
-SNIKT-
The barrel clanged to the floor. “You really should watch who ya point that at.” Wolverine strolled from the bar casually, lighting another cigar. The brief tussle did nothing to take the edge off his pain. Fuck, he missed her. He made his way to his bike, visualizing the first time he had seen Storm on it, her long nightdress around her thighs, arched back, smiling. He had taken her for their first ride that very night, and they had shared their first kiss as well. He had loved her even then, he knew. She had drawn him to her, and he had been helpless against it. He heard her smoke and satin voice in his ear. ~You are wild, untamed, a part of nature. Can’t you feel the answering call in me?~
His jaw clenched tightly. Yes, he had felt it. She was uncaring that he had the senses-- and the nature-- of an animal, she had loved him anyway. Part of him knew that was one of the reasons she did love him. He had reveled in it, in her. Then he had betrayed her trust and used her in the worst possible way. He had gone and made a clusterfuck of everything they had built together. He loved her too much to risk that again. He loved her enough to let her go, even though it was killing him. Huh, go figure, the most dangerous mutant on the planet, possessing a body that could heal virtually any disease or illness, damn near indestructible, a merciless killer, a soulless warrior, done in by heartache. Fuckin’ ironic.


Xavier Institute

“Uuhhgn, Gambit. Oh, my Goddess! Uhhggn.” Ororo arched beneath him, biting her lip, moaning. “Harder.”
Gambit chuckled, his breath teasing her ear. “Are you always dis tight, chere?” He moved against her. “’Ow’s dat?”
Another moan. “Better.”
Gambit shifted, brushing a kiss against her temple. “You like a challenge, non?”
Click! “Or maybe she just likes pain.” Ali said from the doorway.
Gambit cocked his head. “Ali, ‘ow long you been der?”
“Long enough. Smile.” She held up a camera. Gambit grinned. Ali removed the Polaroid waving it in the air, grinning.
“Ali!” Ororo let out a breath, relaxing the curve of her back, wrestling her ankle from Gambit’s hand. They had been in the gym for hours, working out, climbing the peg wall, doing gymnastics and practicing with bo staffs when she had developed a massive leg cramp.
Alison strolled over to the mat. She glanced at the picture in her hand and her smile turned wicked. “Oh, boy. You two had better be nice to me or I’m scanning this and e-mailing every student here.”
“Lemme see,” Gambit rose. He took the photo from Ali. “We make a good lookin’ couple, Stormy.” He turned the picture so she could see.
“Ali!” In the photo Gambit had one of Storm’s bare legs over his shoulder, leaning into her, his face nearly touching hers as she arched against him in what appeared to be a very provocative way.
“Hey, you’re just lucky I’m a very understanding best friend.” Ali said mock serious. “I mean, I come in here and you and my Yummy are rolling around on the floor all grunting and groaning.”
“Har-har.” Storm rolled to her side, lifting her cramped leg, raising it in the air and pulling at it with her hand, stretching the knotted muscles. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with Kitty?”
“We were, but then she spotted Kurt with Amanda and off she went.”
Strom rocked to her feet, walking to the cooler and grabbing a water. “Where is she now?”
“Her room I think.”
“I’ll go check on her.” She tossed Gambit a bottle as she left. “Thanks for the workout, Yummy.”
“Hey!” Ali called after her laughing. She was caught off guard by Gambit’s strong arms circling her waist and tugging her down to the blue floor mat.
“Wan’ workout wit’ me, petite bella?”
Ali arched one brow. “What do you have in mind?”
“A little of dis,” Gambit’s lips grazed her neck, making her shiver. “And maybe a little of dis,” his tongue swirled in her ear. “And definitely some of dis,” his hands stroked the underside of her breasts.
Ali was lost as always, his devil eyes making her tremble with desire. “I think I can find the time,” she murmured.
Gambit leaned back. “You only t’ink?”
“Shut up.” Ali grabbed the back of his head and brought his face down to hers for a powerful kiss.
“Mmm, Ali, do you know what you do t’ dis Cajun? How much I wan‘ you?”
“Show me.”

Kitty’s room

“Kitty? You in there?” Storm knocked gently on the wood with her still gloved knuckles.
There was a soft sniffle, then, “Hang on.” The door slowly opened and a bleary eyed Kitty waved Storm in. Storm had been in Kitty’s room several times and often teased her over the ever changing ‘poster-boy’ on her walls. There were none up now.
“Ali tells me you’re having a rough day.” Storm flopped into one of the two comfy beanbag chairs on the floor.
“Yeah.” Kitty took the other. She gave a watery sigh.
Storm waited.
“I saw Kurt with his new girlfriend Amanda.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Kitten, but didn’t you end things with Kurt.”
Kitty frowned. “Yeah. But, but that was when--”
“When you thought Bobby Drake was interested in you?”
Kitty looked at the floor. “Yep. How could I have been so stupid, Storm? I mean I had this great guy and I ruined everything because Mr. Hot’n Popular looked my way.” She kicked one of her stuffed bears.
“Easy, Kitten, let’s not abuse Mr. Wiggles unnecessarily.”
Kitty wiped her nose with a tissue. “I miss him.”
Storm felt her insides tighten, but shook off the feeling of loneliness Kitty‘s three little words had evoked. “He was very hurt, Kitty,” Ororo said gently, remembering the talks she and Kurt had shared immediately following his and Kitty’s breakup. It had taken several conversations to convince him he was not unattractive, that he was a worthy boyfriend and that he shouldn’t leave the Black team.
“He seems to be past that.” Kitty grumbled.
“Is Amanda so bad?” Storm asked.
Kitty began to cry again. “No. That’s just the thing. She’s not bad. She’s nice and she’s kind and she’s so pretty.”
Storm pulled several more Kleenex from the box on the floor, handing them Kitty.
“Dank you.” Kitty mumbled, blowing her nose. “Oh, Storm, what do I do?”
Storm smiled sadly. “You miss him, and you love him. Let him know you still care about him, but don’t sabotage his new relationship.“ Storm took a deep breath. “It has to be his choice on whether he returns to you or not.”
Kitty raised her honey eyes. “We’re not just talking about Kurt now, are we?”
“No, I suppose we’re not.”
“Me and Kurt were tight, but we were no where near what you and Wolverine were, uh, are…?”
Storm left the question in the air.
“Love is love, Kitten, regardless of length and duration. It’s intensity and merit can’t be compared to another’s. Love is unique to the individual. What you feel for Kurt is no less valuable than what I feel for Wolverine. It is the circumstances that are different.”
Kitty leaned forward, pushing her chestnut hair behind her ears. “So, you’re just going to let him go?”
“I didn’t let him go, Kitty. He left. That’s the difference.”
“Why’d he leave?”
Storm shook her head, unwilling to speak of the reason behind Logan’s departure. “Let’s just say he believes a lie.”
“Oh.” Kitty tilted her head. “But you still love him, right?’
Storm was silent for a long minute. “Yes. I love him.”
“Is he coming back?”
“I don’t think so, Kitten.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Love sucks.”
Storm laughed. “Eloquently put.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone. Just up and left. I mean what the--? A couple of years ago I‘d have expected to wake up one day and Wolverine to be gone. Happened more than once, Cyclops used to crab all the time about how unreliable he was. But after he married you, I don‘t know, I guess I just figured he‘d be more…stable?” She shook her head. “He really loved you,” Kitty said quietly. “I mean really. The way he looked at you… Kurt and I would talk about you guys, saying we’d never seen such happiness. I saw Wolverine torn apart when you were locked in that stasis thingy. You left him then, didn‘t you? I mean, in a way. But he went after you, because he would rather be dead than lose you. That’s what he felt. I heard Jean telling Scott that she’d never felt such emotion before. Musta been something for her to admit that, right?”
Storm slowly got to her feet. “Since you seem to have moved past your anger I’m going to go. I hope our talk has helped. I expect you to train when I say train, Shadowcat. You’re a valuable member of my team, I don’t want emotional jargon clouding your performance. Okay?”
Kitty nodded. “Ok.”
Storm bent and hugged the younger girl. “Good. Now go clean up and get to the library.”
“The library? Why?”
“I just assigned Kurt’s class a research assignment on plants indigenous to the Galapagos islands. Maybe you could help him with his paper.”
Kitty beamed. “Thanks, Storm. For everything.” She phazed through the floor into the bathroom below
“You too, Kitten.”


Canada

He was running. Through the woods, branches slapping his face, cutting his chest. He was naked. Escaped. He’d finally escaped. He heard the dogs. The river. Get to the river and don’t look back. Cold. It was winter. He tore the tubes from his arms, wincing as the hooks tore skin. He’d heal.
~Over there!~
Spotlight. Fuck. Move! Snow and ice crunched beneath bare feet. A dog behind him, lunging. -SNIKT- Crimson on white. Scarlet snow. Keep moving, get to the river.

The water was cold. Sucking at him. Grabbing at him, pulling him under. Freezing. Wasn’t sure how long he could survive freezing. Huh. Must not have run that test.
Falling. Darkness. Warmth. A fire. A blanket. A woman’s voice. Dark hair and brown eyes. Void. Falling. Laughter. Soft and sweet. Same voice.
~What’s your name?~
Kissing. Touching. Tangled blankets. Happiness.
Betrayal.
Guns. Shooting him. Laughing. Weapon X.
Blood. -SNIKT- Blood.
Dark hair, brown eyes, throat slit.
Escape.

Logan jerked up in bed, heart pounding, covered in sweat. He swore, tossing the sheets back, getting to his feet. He walked to the motel room window, pushing the faded yellow curtain aside, watching the rain slide down the window, reflecting moonlight rainbows on the ugly carpet. He pressed his forehead to the glass. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he really killed so many? He knew the answer to that. Yes.
He moved to the small kitchen, running the cold water, splashing his face. He opened the fridge, pulled out a beer and sat at the rickety table. It wasn’t long before the bottle was empty.
He was restless, anxious, agitated. He scratched the back of his knuckles furiously. He glanced at the bed and for a moment he thought he saw moonlight tresses flowing across his pillow. He closed his eyes as a wave of anguish washed through him. He missed her so much, wanted nothing more than to hop on his bike and go back to Xavier’s, pull her into his arms and never, ever let her go.
Logan rose, walking to the foot of the bed where he opened his black duffel. He pulled out the pillow case he had stuffed inside, bringing it to his face, inhaling deeply, picking up her scent. Soft, subtle, pure, like ‘Ro. He held it to him as he crawled back into bed, clutching it to his chest, torturing himself with memories of her as he fell back asleep.
~Logan! Can I open my eyes?~
~Not yet.~
~Where are we?~
~Sshh.~
He tugged the blindfold off, enjoying her gasp of delight.
~Logan?~
Horses cantered in front of them, bold and beautiful.
~Ya said ya never rode before.~
~This is amazing.~
~Pick one.~
~I don’t know. You choose for me.~
He chose a beautiful white mare for her. He helped her mount and lead the horse around the fenced in field, letting her get a feel for the animal. Ororo was a natural, as he’d known she would be. They spent the entire day riding, followed by an evening picnic and a starlit stroll.
~I love ya, darlin’.~
~I love you, too, Logan. Always.~
~Oh, God, baby.~
~Yes. Ohhh, yes!~
Ororo smiled up at him, her lips parted as her breath panted out, her eyes darkening to sapphire gems.
~Touch me.~
He hands traced his hard body.
~Logan…~
~…~
~Logan! Stop!~
~…~
~Please. Stop.~
Blood. Fear. Blood. Pain.
-SNIKT- White hair, blue eyes, throat slit.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ!!” Logan barely made it to the sink before he emptied the beer he’d drank less than thirty minutes ago from his stomach. He sat on the floor with a thud, winded, with his heart pounding. No way he was going back. He wouldn’t risk hurting her again, no matter how much his heart and soul screamed in protest. No matter how the beast inside howled for its mate. “Ororo…” He let his head fall back against the cabinet.

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Early Morning/Back Lawn


Ororo hovered in the air, cross legged, eyes closed, practicing the meditative mantra Logan had taught her. She focused on her inner self, trying to find her center but it was immeasurably difficult with all of the inner turmoil rolling around inside her.
“Mind if I join you?” A slightly accented voice asked quietly.
Ororo opened one eye, glancing at the approaching figure of Elizabeth Braddock. She was dressed in a dark purple robe, accented with dragons and bonsai trees. It was a bit unnerving to hear that slightly accented British voice coming from a clearly Japanese Kunoichi body. She was a startlingly attractive woman, with deep penetrating eyes and a calm demeanor. Betsy was the newest member of the X-Men Black squad and Ororo got the impression there was far more to the woman than she let on.
“Not at all,” Ororo said.
Betsy knelt close to where Ororo hovered, her hands moving in graceful, intricate patterns, bending, flowing. She ended with her hands pressed palms together in the very center of her chest, a low hum coming from her.
Ororo watched, slowly lowering herself to the ground, fascinated. “That was beautiful.”
Betsy nodded, her long hair gleaming in the early morning sun. “It’s a bit of many different things blended into one. A touch of Shin-shin-toitsu-do, with yoga and ballet. It’s a reflection of me, I guess.”
“If that’s true, you have a beautiful soul.”
“That’s debatable.” Betsy inhaled deeply, stretching her arms, opening them wide as if embracing the entire world. “You seem pretty familiar with meditation.”
“Getting there.” Ororo closed her eyes, leaning her head back, enjoying the cool breeze caressing her face. “I had a good teacher.”
“Wolverine, right?” Betsy moved to stand, dropping her robe, revealing a tight, stealth outfit. “I met him once. Interesting man.”
One corner of Ororo’s mouth tilted. “That’s a word for him.”
Betsy remained silent. She stretched one leg high in the air, holding the position for a long moment, balancing on the ball of her cloth covered other foot, turning slowly. “Do you spar?” she asked, switching legs.
Ororo nodded. She rose to her feet, taking a fighting stance, her toes twitching in the grass. “Ready?”
Betsy nodded. Without so much as a blink to give her away, she swung her foot, catching Storm in the side. Storm grunted, but didn’t fall. “You’re quick,” she told Betsy.
“I am.”
Betsy dipped, the heel of her left foot rising, swinging towards Storm’s jaw. Storm back flipped out of the way, landing low and sweeping Betsy’s right foot out from under her. Betsy hit the ground, but quickly rolled back, planting her hands and bending her spine in a polished arc. “Your quick.”
“I am.”
Betsy smiled. They continued to spar for several minutes, blocking, punching, kicking, each moving with grace and precision. Betsy moved with stunning swiftness, leaping into the air, one leg extended, the other curved behind her. She hit Storm directly in the chest but Storm had seen it coming and grabbed the other woman’s ankle, twisting, flipping her. Betsy grunted as she hit the ground, but at the last minute, she uncurled her hooked her leg, pulling Storm down with her.
They were both winded as they stood, brushing the grass from their clothes. “You’re pretty good,” Betsy said with genuine admiration.
“Like I said, I had a good teacher.”
Betsy nodded. “Where is Wolverine anyway? I heard he disappeared a few months ago, went off and left his wife or something.”
Ororo held up her left hand, the gold band glinting in the sun. “Or something.”
Betsy gave a startled gasp. “You’re married to the Wolverine?”
“Why is it people always say it like that? So disbelieving.” Ororo muttered shaking her head. She rotated her shoulders. Married? Were they really? Was it still a marriage if you didn’t know where the other person was, hadn’t spoken to them in what felt like forever? What was that? Because as far as she was concerned it was not a marriage.
“Sorry. I only met the guy once, like I said, but he didn’t really seem like the settling down type. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Ororo waved her hand. “Don’t be. It’s nice to know there’s at least one other person at this place not absorbed in the gossip and rumors that run rampant around here.” She left it unsaid that obviously he wasn’t the settling down type, or he’d be there. With her. Bastard. Thunder rumbled.
Betsy glanced up at the clear sky, frowning. She gave Storm a speculative look but said nothing, instead stretching, cooling down from their brief sparring.
*BAMF*
“Guten morgen, Storm.”
“Good morning, Nightcrawler.” Ororo smiled at the fuzzy blue mutant now standing directly in front of her. “You’re up early.”
“Not really. I usually rise at dawn and say a morning prayer.”
Storm glanced over her shoulder. “Have you met Betsy yet?”
“Ja. We had lunch they other day.” Kurt inclined his head at Betsy, who gave him a brief wave in return. He turned back to Storm. “The Professor sent me to get you.”
“Why didn’t he just buzz?” she tapped her head.
“He said something about interrupting you finding your center? Shall we?” Kurt reached for her.
Storm gave him a quick grin before leaping into his arms. “We shall. Later, Betsy.”
*BAMF*


Headmaster’s Office

Ororo stood in front of Xavier’s desk, still wearing her Gi, knowing what this meeting was about. Her year was up, classes had ended, summer break was upon them, and it was time to make the decision on whether she was staying or leaving.
Charles looked up at her, folding his hands together on the desk, waiting for her to speak, to answer the question.
“When I came here, I came because I thought you could help me, and you recruited me for the same reason; you thought I could help you. To that end I think we’ve both come through.” Ororo sighed. “I have a lot to thank you for, Charles. And even more to hate you for, but I can’t hate you. You do what you believe you must to fulfill your dream. Although I don’t agree with your methodology I have begun to take the dream into my heart. There are many out there who want to see you and this place destroyed. I can’t let that happen. Your ideals have become my ideals. If it helps to make people think a little bit more what those ideals are, then I'll keep wearing this uniform.”
Xavier smiled slowly.
“You knew I was going to stay, didn’t you?” she asked.
“I had a feeling.”
“Mmhm.” She crossed her arms. “I still think you’re a manipulative geezer.”
“I still think you’re an obnoxious criminal.”
“Okay, good.” She walked to the door. “I also think you have a good soul.” She closed the door behind her.
Charles shook his head, saying quietly, “I think you saved it.”


Later
Loft

“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Do you think she’ll leave?”
“Non. Stormy not leave Gambit, and I won’ leave you. She’ll stay.”
There was a long silence. “She’s given up on him coming back.”
Gambit sighed. “I know.”
“She’s become hard.” Ali kissed his hairless chest. “Although I must admit, she looks almost as good in your getup as you do.” Storm had taken to wearing dark clothes and was often seen in her thief’s garb of dark pants, and form fitting black ribbed tee and gloves. It was a comfort thing for her, bringing back fond memories of her time with Gambit and Jean-Luc in New Orleans. Happy memories that didn’t include Wolverine. Something she needed to hold on to, trying to convince herself of the fact that she could be happy without him.
“She’s not ‘ard, Ali. She’s coping, da only way she knows ‘ow.”
“She tried so hard to find him.” Ali laid her head on Gambit’s chest, remembering the countless hours Storm spent on the phone, calling in favors and trying to track Wolverine down. Cerebro had been unable to locate him, not that they had really expected to be able to. When Wolverine didn’t want to be found, he didn’t get found. Storm had even flown to Canada, trying to find him, but with no luck. She had returned with a deep sadness in her eyes and try as they might no one could bring the spark back into her baby blues. She smiled and she joked but it was an act, a very convincing act, as it had most people thinking she was fine, but Ali and Gambit knew better. Storm was slowly dying inside and there was nothing they could do to stop it. “She loves him so much.”
“I know, ma petite bella.” Gambit stroked her bare back. “Not dat ‘e deserves it.”
Ali snuggled closer at the hard tone in Remy’s voice. He had been furious with Wolverine for weeks now, and it didn’t look like that was wearing off anytime soon. “I think he loves her too. I think that’s why he left.”
“Dat make no sense, Ali.” Gambit hugged her tight. “You don’ leave da ones you love.”
Ali shrugged. “Storm left you once to protect you. Maybe he‘s doing the same for her.”
Gambit muttered a slew of Cajun curses under his breath, rolling Ali onto her back. “No more talk of da Wolverine.” He slowly lifted her leg, settling between her thighs. “Der be so many ot’er more interesting t’ing t’ discuss.”
“Funny,” she gasped. “But I don’t think we’re going to do much talking.”
Gambit slid into her slowly, hissing between clenched teeth. “Sure we are, chere. Can you no’ ‘ear my body talkin’ t’ yours.”
Ali closed her eyes as he moved. “Remy,” she moaned.
“Listen, ma petite.” He kissed her neck, his tongue tasting her skin. He moved slowly, unhurried, drawing out the experience, the feel of her small body wrapped around his an indescribable pleasure. “Je t’aime, Ali.”
“Remy…Oh, god.” Ali clutched his shoulders as he slid nearly out of her, then surging forward, filling her.
Gambit rested his forehead on her shoulder, breathing heavy as he stroked. For all his skill, all his experience, all of his years as a practiced seducer, nothing had ever felt as good or as right as Ali. “Say da words, Ali. I need da words.”
She smiled her impish smile, wrapping her legs higher on his back, lifting herself against him. “I am saying them, Etienne. Aren’t you listening?”
“Ali…”
“Je t’aime,” she whimpered as he increased his rhythm. “I love you!”
Outside the bedroom door, Ororo’s hand froze mid-descent. She had come to invite her brother and Alison out to dinner, but obviously Gambit and Ali were occupied. She turned, making her way down the narrow staircase, a small smile on her face. Their happiness meant the world to her. She knew that lately they had kept their flirtations and innuendos down to a minimum when she was around and it bothered her that they felt she couldn’t handle seeing them together. It wasn’t their fault she was alone. She didn’t begrudge them their happiness, in fact, it was one of the few bright spots in her life right now.
The lobby was empty as she strode through it, her boots making muffled thuds on the marble, her long ponytail bouncing as she walked. She climbed the main staircase, heading to the second floor where her bedroom was. She had moved back into the mansion a few days ago, leaving the boathouse and the memories it contained within it behind. Ali and Gambit had offered her the loft again, but she had declined. That was their haven now, and she wouldn’t take it from them.
She unlocked the door and stepped into the sparse room. She hadn’t bothered decorating, leaving the room borderline sterile and bare. She sat on the bed, untying her boots, sliding them off and dropping them beside the bed. She turned on her stereo and the haunting melody of the Cure’s ‘Love Song’ filled the room. She sighed. Figures.
With a small grunt she laid back, staring at the fan slowly circling overhead. She lifted her left hand, staring at the gold circlet hugging her third finger.
~What are we doing here?~
~It’s a chapel, Storm? What do you think we’re doing?~
~You can’t be serious?~
A hard, passionate kiss. ~Very. So, whaddya say, darlin’? Marry me?~
~Yes!~ He held her tight, swinging her around. ~Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes!~
~Yer stuck with me now. I ain’t ever gonna let ya go.~
Ororo squeezed burning eyes shut. “Liar.”

Los Angeles, California
Evening

Wolverine watched as the young girl left the arcade, her yellow slicker nearly dragging on the floor behind her. She pushed overly large sunglasses up her face, setting her jaw in a stubborn tilt. He finished his coffee, getting up, following her.
He had spotted her hours ago in the electronics department of the same store that housed the mini arcade. She had been holding a digital camera when it had suddenly melted in her hands. She had hastily put it down, but he had caught the scent of burning plastic and had witnessed the melt down of the Kodak. A mutant. Young by the looks of her, and alone. Not the best of combinations.
He had gone back to browsing cds, looking for some aggressive music, a habit he picked up from ‘Ro, but he had been unable to shake the girl from his mind. With an agitated growl he had sought her out. It had only taken him a few minutes to find her in the arcade, playing some ridiculous outlaw shoot ‘em up game. He had gone to the food court Starbuck’s grabbed a coffee and sat on one of the small resting benches to wait. For what he wasn’t sure, but he trusted his instincts, so he had sat.
The girl was heading for the exit now, pushing open a set of doors, walking into the night, sunglasses still on. She glanced over her shoulder, as if sensing she was being watched, but shrugged, dismissing it when she saw no one behind her. She was halfway across the nearly vacant parking lot, deep in the shadows when she was tackled. She hit the pavement hard, knocking her sunglasses off her face, breaking them.
“Ah, man, I just stole those,” she grumbled. Three men stood over her, leering down at her.
“Hey baby,” one of the three men standing over her said. “You like cock?” He grabbed himself crudely.
“You like fireworks?” she returned, rolling to her knees.
“Huh?”
A blast of colorful plasma erupted from the girls hands, causing the men to step back, but not retreat. “A mutie! Ohho! This is gonna be fun!” One of the men grabbed her from behind, jerking her arms back. He smelled of sour milk and beer, making her gag.
“Hands off!” She screamed.
“C’mon, baby, you might like it.” The skinniest of the three stood in front of her. He leaned close, peering at her face. “I ain’t never fucked a chink before.”
The girl kicked at him. “Asshole!”
He laughed crudely. “Is that where you want it? My pleasure, bitch.” The guy reached for her, but was suddenly flung back, skidding across the asphalt.
Wolverine bared his fangs at the man holding the girl. “Let her go, candy-ass, or I cut off yer balls.” -SNIKT-
“Easy man.” the scruffy looking man shoved the young girl towards him, pulling out a gun as he did so. The girl screamed, unleashing a series of bright ‘pafs’ in the man’s face.
“Cripes, kid!” Wolverine covered his eyes as the flashes momentarily blinded him.
A gunshot rang out and Wolverine grunted, feeling the bullet penetrate his gut. He straightened slowly, blinking the three men back into focus. “Now ya’ve gone and pissed me off.”
The gun toting scruff pulled the trigger again as Wolverine approached him, hitting Wolverine in the chest three times. Wolverine dropped to one knee, took a couple of deep breaths and rose again, his white shirt scarlet. He smiled at the three men. “How many more of those ya got?”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Not even close.” Within seconds the three men lay on the ground, broken and bloody. Wolverine stood over the skinny one, snarling. “You fuckers ever touch another kid, woman, or dog I’ll hunt ya down and remove yer spines.” He bent, ruthlessly slicing a hand from each one of them. “Just a reminder, gimps.”
He retracted, turning back to the wide eyed girl in the yellow slicker.
“Stay back, dementoid!” she cried, backing away from him.
“Look, kid, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I just saved yer ass.”
“How do I know you aren’t some perv like those three?”
Wolverine snorted. “Ya ain’t my type.”
The girl placed her hands on her hips. “Hey! I’m cute!” she sounded defensive.
Wolverine shook his head. “So what? Ya want me ta attack ya?”
“Uh, no.”
“Let’s go, kid, before unwanted company shows up. Where do ya live?”
The girl shrugged. “Wherever.”
“Look, kid, I don’t got time fer this shit. Where do ya live?”
“I’m currently between homes.”
“Yer homeless?”
“I prefer the term un-sheltered. And the name’s not kid. I’m Jubilation Lee, but you can call me Jubilee.” She gave him a toothy smile. “What’s your name?”
“Wolverine.”
“Ugh. Did your parents not like you?”
He gave her a small lip curl. She held up her hands. “Okay, Wolverine. How ‘bouts I call ya Wolvie?”
“Not if you want me ta answer.” He grabbed her arm as he walked past her, pulling her behind him.
“Hey! Where we going?”
“Away. Trouble coming.”
Jubilee looked over her shoulder, wincing at the sight of her three attackers still laying in a bloody pile on the pavement. “So, what’re you? Some kind of mutant vigilante?”
“Something like that. Move kid.”

Minutes Later

“You sure?”
The soldier looked at the bloody severed hands on the ground. “I’m sure, sir. We’re getting parking lot surveillance video now. Do we dispatch a sentinel?”
“No. He’s off the radar by now.”
“But, sir, shouldn’t we try to catch him while he’s in the area.”
There was a short bark of laughter. “You wanna die, you go right ahead and try and catch him.”
“Orders, sir?”
“Verify with the video, then call me back.”

Burger King

“You might wanna try chewin’.”
“I’msohungryhaven’teateninliketwodaysthanksfortheburger.”
Wolverine raised one ebony brow. “Sure, kid.” He watched in mild fascination as the slight teenage girl in front of him downed a Whopper in less time than it took to say the word. She was a spunky thing, that was for sure. She had short dark hair, held out of her face by two chunky barrettes, her deep chocolate eyes were slightly tilted, giving her a curious aura of mischief and mystery, she had a small nose and a bow shaped mouth. She met his steel gaze unflinchingly and with open curiosity.
Jubilee slurped her shake. “Man, that hit the spot.” She gave his fries a predatory look. “You gonna eat those?”
He slid the cardboard container across the table, careful to keep his jacket closed over his bloodstained shirt.
“Thanks.” She shoved a handful of fries into her mouth. She caught a glint of metal as he reached for his drink and she said, “Hey, you’re married. Whaddya doing picking up sweet little girls like me for?”
Wolverine glanced at his hand and felt a familiar pang of longing. “I ain’t picking up sweet little girls. I just happened ta be in the area.”
“Uhn-huh. So what’s the little woman like? She as ‘friendly’ as you? What‘s her name? She a mutant?”
Wolverine gave her a had stare. “You ask an awful lot of questions.”
“How else am I supposed to get the answer?”
“Hnh.”
“What’s that mean? Hnh. I haven’t known you long enough to know what grunt means what. Help me out.”
“It means I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ohh. Did you guys split up?” She leaned forward in a conspirator way. “Another man?” she whispered.
“Kid,” he growled.
“Okay, okay. Geesh, touchy.” She picked up some more fries. “So where we going next?”
“What’s this we shit?”
She gave him a look. “You can’t just swoop in all Lone Ranger and rescue me then ditch me. Tell you what, I’ll be your Tonto.”
“You’re not right in the head, are ya, kid?”
She seemed to give that some serious contemplation. “Well, considering I’m a fifteen year old homeless orphan, eating in a nearly empty BK, practically alone with a man who I’ve known for maybe twenty minutes, who, in that short time has proven to be not only be dark, but dangerous, would indicate that no, no I am not right in the head.” She took another sip of her shake. “Thanks for asking.”
“You aren’t gonna just go away, are ya?”
“Nope.”
Wolverine grabbed his burger. “You really got no home?”
For the first time she looked momentarily sad, then she smiled again. “The world is my playground. Or at least the Beverly Center Mall.”
Wolverine grunted again, to which Jubilee rolled her eyes. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I know a place that you could go,” he said. “A place for gifted kids like yerself.”
“Gifted?” she laughed. “That's just a nice way of saying, weirdo.”
Wolverine chuckled a bit. “Yeah, there are definitely a few of those there.”
“So, where is this place?”
“New York.”
“New York City?”
“No. In Westchester to be specific. Salem Center. It‘s a school.”
Jubilee shook her head. “No thanks. I like being on my own. Making my own way, ya know, a rebel, a loner.” She puffed her chest out.
“Ya like getting jumped? Starving? Never having a place ta call home?”
She sat back, deflated. “No.” she mumbled. “But a school?”
“Ya’d like it.”
“How would you know. You’ve only known me for half an hour. Maybe I’m a deranged serial killer, luring you to your demise. How about that? Huh?”
Wolverine rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I’ll try and keep my terror in check.”
Jubilee tossed a fry at him. After a minute she asked, “So, a school?”
He nodded. “It’s a mansion.” That got her attention. She leaned forward, eyes wide.
“Is there a pool?”
“Yup.”
“Games?”
“Plenty of those.”
“Boys?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Hot boys?”
“Kid.”
“Sorry.” She rested her chin in her hand. “It’s for mutants?”
“Yes.”
“Norms?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“Look, kid, I think ya’d fit right in. If ya want we’ll put ya on the next flight out of LAX.”
She looked both skeptical and hopeful. “Why would you do that?”
Wolverine shrugged but his voice was rough. “Cuz ya remind me of someone.”
Jubilee glanced at the ring on his finger again, wondering if he was a widower. “Can I sleep on it?”
“Sure, kid.”
Jubilee smiled, finishing the shake. “So, seriously, what kind of name is Wolverine?”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
War Room/ 4am


“Sorry for early morning disturbance.” Xavier said, glancing at the X-Men lining the table. He had mentally summoned them minutes ago and most were still in their nightclothes. “I received this surveillance video footage only moments ago,” He turned on the large flat screen wall mounted TV, pressing play on the remote in his hand. “After you see what I’m about to show you, you’ll understand the urgency.”
The teams looked at the screen watching as a young girl in a long coat crossed a nearly empty parking lot. She was moving swiftly, when suddenly she was attacked by three men, shoving her to the ground. The black and white imagery made it hard to make out specific details, but it appeared some sort of light or energy was emitted from the girl, making her attackers back up.
“A mutant.” Cyclops said, stating the obvious.
On screen a dark shadow came into view, moving with fluid grace, blades glinting under the parking lamps as it leaped into the fray.
“Wolverine,” Jean said softly, glancing at Storm from the corner of her eyes. Storm remained passively silent, watching her husband on screen. The only reaction she gave was a subtle flinch when one of the thugs shot Wolverine repeatedly.
The fight was over in a matter of seconds, Wolverine taking the girl and moving off camera. The footage continued to roll and Xavier sped it up until as a group of armed men came on screen, and the X-Men watched in silence as they shot the unconscious men in their heads. Though not in any uniform they appeared to be military of some sort.
Xavier clicked off the monitor, swiveling his chair to face his students. “I believe the men work for Colonel Wraith. I‘ve picked up his psychic signature in the area.”
There was a long, silent tension in the air at the mention of that man’s name.
“How’d you get the tape?” Scott asked.
“I have many sources,” Xavier said cryptically. “I’ve scanned the young woman’s mind, her name is Jubilation Lee, a runaway. I can not locate Wolverine, but I sense that she is still with him.” Xavier’s somber eyes met Storm’s blue ones. “I’m sending a team. The Colonel is close to them.”
Storm slowly rose to her feet. “My guys, suit up.” She glanced at Scott. “I’m taking this one.”
Cyclops gave a nod, the ruby flashing in his visor. “You have the lead, Red team will be right behind you.” He stood as well, surprising her with his easy acceptance.
Gambit reached for Storm as she passed him. “Padnat?”
She gave him a dark smile over her shoulder. “Step to it, Labeau, I need you, partner.” She squeezed his hand as she headed for the door. “Let’s go say howdy to Wraith.”
Alison rubbed her sleepy eyes, yawning. “Can we grab a coffee before we go stomping bad-guy booty?”


Outside Los Angeles, California
West Coast Palms Motel
Room 3A


Wolverine bolted upright in the chair he was currently, uncomfortably, sleeping in. Something was wrong. He raised his head, sniffing. There was a faint scent of apples in the air, from the kid on the small twin bed, and the acrid scent of Kevlar and ammo. Fuck.
He moved silently towards the bed. “Pst. Kid, wake up.” He shook her shoulder.
“Nnggnn…”
“Wake. Up.” he shoved her.
“Wh-wha..?”
He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Sh.” He handed her her coat, cocking his head, listening.
“Get down, kid!” Wolverine was moving in front of Jubilee, sensing the soldiers before they appeared from the shadows, busting through the door and windows, weapons drawn. Wolverine was in motion instantly, he never stopped, never slowed, attacking ruthlessly, each move blending in with the next. His claws sinking into flesh through Kevlar, slashing throats and separating limbs. It was a terrifying display of devastation. He was doing what he did best and, judging from the feral smile on his face, having the time of his life. As the last soldier fell Wolverine paused, barely breaking a sweat, crimson dripping from his claws.
“Wolverine!” Jubilee was beside him a fraction of a second too late to stop the killing. She gasped, “You killed them!”
Wolverine growled. “Ya think they woulda given us any mercy? Do ya think they‘ll hesitate ta use those guns in their hands? Cuz they won‘t. This is war, little girl, and in war there are casualties. Now get down and listen ta me before ya become one.”
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” A low voice taunted from the darkness outside.
Wolverine shoved Jubilee behind him, placing his body in front of hers. “Stay.” he commanded. He edged towards the open door, peering into the night. Wraith stood on the back of a truck, smiling. He lobbed a grenade across the pavement, it’s tink-tink on the ground echoing in Wolverine’s ears. He twisted back towards Jubilee, shouting for her to, “Move!”
“You just told me to stay!” She shouted back, grunting as his arms closed around her, protecting her from the fiery blast that blew them through the rear wall of their room and down an embankment into a shallow stream.
“…Wolverine?” Jubilee slowly lifted her head, her ears ringing from the explosion. She spat out a mouthful of mud and grass. She looked down, a scream in her throat. Wolverine lay face down in the shallow stream, his back blown apart, silver skeleton revealed in several places, the smell of charred flesh turning her stomach. “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!!” She tried to flip him, but he weighed a ton. “C’mon, Wolvie…” She heard voices along the embankment top, and flashes of light. They were coming. Whoever these assholes were, they were coming. “Ok, I don’t know CPR or medicine, hell I don’t even have a bandaid, but if you can get shot like a dozen times and be fine, this should be no problem. Huh? Come on!” She was shaking him frantically. “Wolvie!”
“...Kid.” Wolverine rolled, his skin hissing as it hit the water, steam rising from his burnt back. “Run.”
Jubilee looked up the grassy embankment, seeing shadowy figures moving towards them, the sound of dogs barking. She grabbed his arm. “Get up.”
“Go!” he ordered. “They’re after me. Run.”
“I’m not leaving you!” She tugged on his arm, splashing in the water.
Wolverine rolled to his knees, wincing at the stinging in his back. He could feel the familiar itch as his body repaired itself, skin covering tissue, veins reshaping, blood flowing. In the distance he heard the whump-whump-whump of approaching choppers. Fuck.
“Let’s go.” He stood, crouched low, moving through the longer grass. Jubilee almost cried with relief. She followed closely, watching in mild fascination as the skin over his back pulled itself together, first red, then pink, then matching the golden tone of the rest of him.
“Who are those guys?” she whispered.
They had only gone a short distance when Wolverine stopped, sniffing the air. Shitshitshitshitshit.
A helicopter hovered a short distance away, Wrath was leaning from the open hatch, bringing up a gun.
Wolverine swore obscenely as he felt a needle pierce the skin directly above his heart. He felt the deep penetration, the immediate release of some chemical into his blood.
“Wolverine!” Jubilee cried in distress, ripping the dart from his chest.
Wolverine grunted, his knees giving way and he splashed into the mud, his breathing labored. Poison. Fast acting too, his healing factor wasn’t touching it yet.
Wraith was practically clapping with joy. Water and weeds sprayed and splashed as the chopper lowered further, allowing Wraith to hop out, approaching them with a sick smile on his face, two soldiers following. “Wolverine.” Wraith grinned. “Hurts don’t it? Cornelius designed that just for you.”
Cornelius? That guy was real?
Wraith gave Jubilee a disdainful look. “Who’s the pup?”
“Back off, Captain Kangaroo before I unleash some serious hurting on you,” Jubilee warned.
Wraith raised his gun at her. “This aught to be interesting.”
“N-no.” Wolverine grunted. He could feel the thick poison seeping through his body, crawling through his organs, his muscles clenching to the snapping point, the pain excruciating.
“You want to keep her?” Wraith looked amused. “Never say I didn’t do anything for you.” He waved the other two soldiers forward. “Bring her.”
Jubilee tried to cling to his arm, ignoring the gun barrels pointed directly in her face. “Wolverine!!” She screamed as they dragged her away.
“Kid…” Wolverine’s world went dark.
Blackbird
High in the Sky

“She looks intense,” Kitty whispered, pretending to check her boots, bending to whisper to Ali.
“She is.”
“Wraith? That guy scares the crap out of me. I mean, it’s like he takes pleasure in pain. Like it’s all a big game to him.”
“Ja.” Kurt whispered from the seat behind. “Are we ready to face him again?”
Ali smirked. “We last engaged Wraith in the middle of East bumblefuck and had our asses collectively handed to us. This time he doesn‘t know we‘re coming, and judging from the look on Storm’s face, the game’s a bit different now. The stakes are higher and I thinks she’s aiming to win.”
“I am.” Storm gave them a look over her shoulder, a half smile on her face. “Next time, try shutting off your comm., Kitty.”
Kitty glanced up guiltily. “Right.”
Storm looked over at Scott who was piloting the plane. “How long?”
“We’re getting close.”
“Wait.” Jean held up her hand. She had her eyes closed, receiving a telepathic message from the Professor. Her green eyes shot open. “Wraith has them.” She flipped on the navigation system, bringing up California highway maps. “They’re on the move.”
Cyclops banked the jet, pushing it as fast as it would go. Storm unclasped her belt, moving to the back of the plane. “Gambit, with me.”

California
Deserted Highway

Wolverine blinked several times, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. The ground was rumbling beneath him, increasing the feeling of nausea he had.
“’Bout time.”
He turned his head slowly towards the voice. Jubilee was sitting across from him, her back pressed against the bars of the cage they inhabited, her arms crossed on top of her bent knees. They were caged on the back of an open flatbed truck, traveling down a highway in the middle of the night, helicopters on either side, a semi in front of them and a line of jeeps behind them. Wraith wasn’t messing around.
“How long I been out?”
Jubilee shrugged. “An hour or so.” She moved towards him. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like shit.”
“Well, you look it.”
Wolverine sat up, pressing one hand to his head. Whatever was in that dart had been potent, damn near killing him. He stood slowly, the wind whipping his face, slashing at the bars, only to be rewarded with the clang of adamantium on adamantium. Caged. Again. “Raaaaurrggghhh!!”
He flung himself against the bars, his fury uncontrollable. Caged! He slashed again, teeth gnashing as he swore, violently, angrily.
“Wolverine?” Jubilee backed herself into a corner of the cage, fearful of the anger she felt coming from the man who’d saved her life. “Wolvie?”
He turned towards her, out of breath and snarling.
“You’re scaring me.” she said quietly.
Wolverine shook himself, his anger still there, but buried under his concern for the firecracker girl that refused to leave him to save herself. “Sorry, kid.”
She glanced at the helicopters pacing the trucks. “These are bad guys, huh?”
“Very.”
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“No.” He crouched beside her. “We’ll get through this, kid.”
She threw herself into his arms. Wolverine was momentarily stunned, then closed his arms around her slight frame, rubbing his hand along her back. “It’s okay, kiddo.”
Wolverine watched as the scenery began to change, the desert greeting them with cacti and tumble weeds, they were headed east, through Nevada. Absently he rubbed the band around his finger. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Jubilee, but she remained silent, curious, but silent.
There was no one around for miles, the long road stretching in front and behind them. He sat patiently, watching and waiting. He knew why the cage was on an open truck, so that Wraith could watch them from his chopper. The man delighted in torment and suffering. Sick fucker. Wolverine raised one fisted hand, a lone claw extended.
Without warning the two helicopters alongside the truck veered off and the jeeps pulled up, closing ranks. Wolverine glanced up, moving to the bars. Two black crotch rocket cycles sped past, the riders clad in black, dark helmets on their heads, crouched low over the handle bars, kicking up dirt as they flew by, criss crossing each other directly in front of the truck, passing scant inches apart. Soldiers in the jeeps opened fire on the cycles. Wolverine moved again, following the cycles with his eyes. The rider of the lead bike pulled out a hook on a long black tether, then speeding up, tilted the cycle, sliding underneath the semi, the rider’s left knee grazing the pavement, hooking the rear axle before emerging from the other side. Wolverine swore. There was only one person he knew that could drive like that. “’Ro.”
“Come again?” Jubilee stood beside him, her dark hair whipping in the wind.
Wolverine glanced down at her. “Remember that school I was telling ya about?”
“Yeah,” she gave him a questioning look.
“Well, yer about ta meet the faculty.”
Jubilee’s eyes widened.
There was a high pitched screech and the Blackbird soared overhead.
*BAMF*
“Hi, Wolverine.”
“Ahh!!” Jubilee screamed.
“Easy, kid.” Wolverine grinned at Kurt. “Elf.” He nudged Jubilee towards him. “Take her first.”
Kurt wrapped strong arms around Jubilee. “Hold on to me, freundin.”
Jubilee glanced at Wolverine. “Trust him, kid. The fuzzy elf is a good guy.”
Jubilee looked at Kurt and smiled. “Okay.”
*BAMF*
“Whoo! What a rush!” Jubilee exclaimed as they appeared on the Blackbird.
“Are you injured?” Warren asked immediately.
Jubilee waved him away, looking out the window at the still caged Wolverine. Soldiers were firing around the cage, mainly at the two motorcycles weaving in and out from between the vehicles.
In the cage Wolverine was swearing, becoming increasingly agitated over how close the shots were coming to the cycles. A flash of pink phosphorous and a series of small explosions told who the other rider was, not that Wolverine hadn’t already known.
Storm decelerated, taking the tether attached to the semi and running it back to Gambit. He tied the rope around the handle bars of his bike. Storm matched his speed, staying alongside him as he placed his hands on the gas tank of his bike, charging it until it glowed bright. When he was ready they’d only have a moment and the timing had to be perfect or the others would be scraping him and Stormy off the pavement with spatulas.
“Whaychya doin’, Storm?” Wolverine muttered from the cage.
*BAMF*
“Ready?”
Wolverine turned and as he did scarlet sprayed across his face as a bullet tore through Kurt’s chest. “Elf!!” He caught the other man before he hit the bottom of the cage. “Elf!”
“Storm, Nightcrawler is hit!” Ali came over the comm.
Storm glanced over her shoulder, seeing Wolverine lowering a limp Kurt to the floor of the cage. She turned her head again, catching sight of the sniper in the helicopter, his barrel swiveling towards Gambit.
“Gambit! Now!” Storm braked, her rear tire elevating behind her.
Gambit released the tank, flipping back from the bike. He felt hands catch him under his arms and then he was soaring into the sky, watching as the elastic tether recoiled, bringing the glowing bike crashing into the semi, the explosion huge, jackknifing the truck and taking out several jeeps. The progression stopped, the vehicles halting.
Storm and Gambit hit the ground running. Wraith’s private army was arming themselves, and moving towards the flatbed that housed the adamantium cage. Storm snapped off her helmet, yanking it from her head and swinging it into the face of one of the armed men, cracking his nose and sending him flying. She threw it at another and as he dodged it her foot lashed out, breaking his jaw. She yanked the rifle from his hands, throwing it to Gambit who charged it and tossed it towards the other men causing them to separate and dive to avoid being blown to bits.
She leapt onto the flat bed, her heart pounding at the sight of her fallen friend and her husband. She was giving the cage a once over when he spoke to her. “It’s adamantium. Ya ain’t cutting us out.”
Storm moved around the cage silently, ignoring him, despite the wrenching pain and longing hearing his voice caused. All cages had a door…there! She slid her lock picking kit from her pants pocket, the door swinging open a moment later. “Warren,” she called into her headset. “Get down here and collect Crawler. He looks bad. Cyclops?”
“Yeah?”
“I need a wrecking ball to take out the rest of those jeeps.”
“Colossus coming down.”
Wolverine kept his hand over Kurt’s wound but his gaze rested on Storm. He was devastated by the sight of her. She stood tall, dressed all in black, the leather of her black duster slapping her legs as she moved, her long hair wild about her exotic face. “’Ro.” Her name was out of his mouth in a gentle growl. God, he had missed her.
She wasn’t looking at him, but up at the Bird. A glint of silver in the night followed by a earth shaking thwooom! Announcing Colossus‘s arrival, creating a small crater and effectively dismantling the last of the ground vehicles. Soldiers scrambled, firing at him, but Colossus’s steel skin deflected the bullets and his metal brows drew together in an irritated scowl. He swatted the men away like pesky insects.
Warren swooped into the cage carrying a stretcher, moving to Wolverine and Kurt. “Help me get him on.”
Whumpwhupwhumpwhumpwhump.
The helicopters were lowering, preparing to fire. Ororo caught sight of Wraith in the cockpit and her eyes began to glow. “Get clear!” She took to the air.
“Storm!” Wolverine reached for her but she was gone.
Storm hovered in front of the two helicopters, there noses down as the flew towards her, blades whirring. She used her winds to lead them away from the flatbed, away from where Warren was attaching the stretcher holding Kurt to cables, ensuring her friend’s safe retrieval.
Wraith spoke through a bullhorn. “These babies are insulated against lightening, Storm girl.”
Storm smiled sweetly. “You think that’s all I’m packing?” Clouds thickened, the temperature dropping, snow flurries swirling through the air. She raised her hands high, summoning the elements that were hers and hers alone to control. Her hair whirled, snapping to and fro, her eyes glowing brightly.
Whumpwhumpwhumpwhumpwhump. The helicopters were getting closer.
Storm grit her teeth, concentrating. Ice began to form around the rotor, caking along the blades of each machine. Wind howled and the flurries turned to heavy flakes of sleet and snow.
Whump-whump-whump-whump-whump.
“Wraith.” She pulled every ounce of rage she had for the man up from her gut, pushing it down onto the helicopters. “You die today.”
Whump…whump….whump…whu…
The blades stopped spinning, the helicopters floundering in the air, tumbling to the ground. The fiery flare should have been rewarding but she felt empty. She lowered herself to the ground, summoning rain to extinguish the flames. All around her lay the wreckage of military vehicles, soldiers groaning, defeated. Today the X-Men were victorious, but for Storm the victory felt hollow. She hated the idea of killing, but Wraith had to be put down.
Sighing she turned away from the wreckage, towards the truck where Gambit stood waiting for her. Gambit and Wolverine. She felt her throat tighten at the sight of him standing there, bare chested and in tattered jeans, but still unimaginably appealing to her.
“Stormy!!” Gambit was yelling at her and Wolverine was rushing forward. Too late she realized someone was moving behind her.
“Bitch.” Wraith wrapped one burnt arm around her neck, pressing the barrel of a smoldering pistol to her head. “Stand back, Wolverine.” Wraith tightened his arm. “I’ll blow her head off, you know I will.”
“Then yer dead,” Wolverine snarled.
“Yes, but so is she. I don’t see you thinking that’s a fair trade, so stay put.”
“Take yer hands off my wife!”
Wraith chuckled. “Wife? Well, well, isn’t that a pleasant surprise. You’re far more valuable than I thought you were.” He jostled his arm around her neck. He gave Wolverine a cold look. “Never thought you’d get married again, considering what happened the first time, eh, James?”
Wolverine gave Wraith a dark look. “What did you call me?”
Wraith chuckled. “What’s the matter Jimmy? Can’t remember? Aww, too bad.” He moved the gun from Storm’s temple, pointing it at Wolverine. “There’s a spot on your body that’s not bonded. Did you know that? Want me to show you where?” He cocked the hammer.
“Why do you Americans always talk so much?”
“Yeeaaasrrrggh!” Wraith released Storm, writhing in pain, the glowing end of Betsy’s psi-blade protruding from his forehead. She had snuck up stealthily, never giving herself away, moving with unparalleled ninja skill.
Storm gave Betsy a grateful smile. “Took you long enough.”
“Sorry, Stormy, sudden blizzard slowed us down,” Ali said with a smile, coming up behind them. “So what do we do with drool boy now?” She looked down at Wraith who was in fact seizing and thrashing, saliva bubbling from his lips.
“We take drool boy to the Professor. Maybe he can pick up some information about Weapon X.” Storm glanced at Betsy. “Unless, of course, you fried him.”
Betsy shrugged. “His brain is toast, but perhaps Xavier can find some salvageable pieces in there.”
Storm nodded. “Cyclops, that all right with you?” she asked into her comm.
“Fine. Good work today team.”
“Status on my Crawler?”
“Stable. Weak, but stable.” Jean came over the line. “If Wolverine’s free could someone tell him Jubilee is…what are you? Oh yes…tweeking out.”
“Oh, my God! Wolvie! That was so awesome!!” A highly excited voice came over the comm. link.
Gambit raised one eyebrow. “Wolvie?”
“Can it, Cajun.” Wolverine snapped, still staring at Storm. She refused to look at him and though he couldn’t blame her, it was killing him.
“Embrasse mon tcheue.”
Storm pulled a set of zip ties from her pants side zipper, pulling Wraith’s hands behind his back and securing him. “Peter, if you don’t mind.” She stepped back, allowing Colossus to hurl Wraith over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Okay, team. Let’s go home.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Boathouse/ Late night

Wolverine moved around the house, his hands clenching and unclenching, his knuckles itching to release his claws in his agitation. She’d moved out. He had realized this shortly after entering their home when they’d returned from California. She was gone from their home, taking only her individual items, nothing that they had gotten together. He growled furiously. He should have grabbed her as soon as the plane had landed. She hadn’t flown in the Blackbird, instead, soaring alongside it.
Immediately after their arrival there had been a debriefing, but Storm hadn’t been there. Kurt had been rushed to surgery, and Ororo had gone with him, as well as Kitty and Ali. Xavier had gone to work on Wraith’s mind following Cyclops’s rundown. Wolverine on the other hand had helped Jubilee get settled into one of the student dorms. The kid was spunky as all get out, a million questions, adjusting to her new circumstances easily, showing an adaptability that came from years on the street.
“Wow, this place! You weren’t kidding when you said it was a mansion! Oh, wow!” She had paused in the lobby, taking in the high arched ceilings, and expensive paintings. “I can really stay?” she’d whispered.
Wolverine had put his arm around her. “You bet.”
In her room she had thrown herself on the full sized bed, bouncing and squealing. Wolverine handed her a pad of paper and a pencil. “What’s this?”
“Make a list of some items ya want ta add ta yer room. Chuck gives ya five hundred bucks ta make the place yer own.”
Jubilee’s mouth dropped open. “Five hundred bucks?” She began to scribble like mad on the paper.
He had stayed with her for most of the day, giving her a tour of the house, taking her around the estate. When she asked where he stayed he’d walked her to the boathouse, and upon entering he knew Ororo had been long removed from the place.
Jubilee had wandered around, again asking a hundred questions. In the kitchen she had found a shattered photo on the floor. It was the Vegas wedding snapshot. She had picked it up carefully, studying the photo closely.
“So the chick who saved our butts…?”
“Storm.”
“You’re married?”
“Hnh.”
“Riiiight.” Jubilee put the photo down. “Ok then, what do you want to talk about? What kind of things do you like?”
“Beer.” Wolverine had said. “I really like beer.”
Jubilee had long since returned to the mansion, settling into her ‘digs’. Ali was to take her shopping in the morning to get some clothes and furnishings for her room.
Alone now, Wolverine felt the achingly familiar restless longing, intensified a thousand times, knowing she was somewhere nearby. ‘Ro. His wife. -SNIKT- the ache was terrible. -SHUNT- -SNIKT- -SHUNT-
Knock. Knock.
He sniffed. “Come in, Alison.”
“Hey.” Ali pushed through the screen door. When she was a few feet away from him she stopped, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re a fuckin’ prick.”
Wolverine smirked. “Don’t hold back, darlin‘, tell me how you really feel.”
Ali wasn’t amused. She shoved him hard in the chest. “You think this is funny?”
Wolverine grunted. “Cajun’s got his hands full with you.”
“You have no idea.“ Ali glowered. “She wanted to die.”
Wolverine was silent.
“When you left, she wanted to die. I could feel it. She wanted to just curl up and die.” Ali’s voice shook. “She’d given up on you, started to move forward, them bam, here you are again.” She shook her head. “Rescuing some helpless damsel in distress. Protecting some kid. Hunting down your past.” She glared at him. “Who cares about your wife, right? Who gives a shit about the here and now, when you can torture yourself with memories that could be real or could be some artificial implant. Why bother making real, genuine, no-doubt-about-em memories with a woman that loves you? That’s not nearly as exciting, I guess. Not nearly so dark and dangerous for the mysterious and deadly Wolverine. Musta been dull living a domestic life. Waking up every day to the same woman. A woman that would search for you for months, scour a continent and a half, fly across the country and wipe out half an army just to keep you safe. How unfortunate for you that we found you. Tell me, Wolverine, had we not come to you, would you have come back to her?”
Wolverine growled low in his throat, but made no response.
Ali sighed. “I didn’t think so.” She gave him a narrow look. “She’s my best friend, my sister and she deserves better than to be set aside. Make it a real marriage or get a divorce.”
The growl was deeper this time.
“Not liking that idea, huh?” This time Ali smirked.
“You come here just to bitch at me?” he snapped.
“No. I came to tell you Wraith’s dead. Brain shut down during the probe.”
“No loss there.”
“I agree.” Ali was very quiet.
Wolverine shifted, standing straight. “What is it?”
“Wraith still claimed you’ve been married before.” Ali moved towards the door. “He gave us a name. The Professor’s looking into it.”
Wolverine pulled a cigar from the pocket of his flannel. “What was the name?”
“Mariko. Mariko Yashida.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York



The storm moved over the mansion, a swirling vortex of gathering darkness, blowing fast and furious. It was wild, uninhibited, savage and pure, driving rain onto the ground with such force that pools of water formed immediately, several inches deep. Jagged bolts of lightening streaked and sizzled across the sky, a raw display of the magnificence of nature. Thunder rolled loudly, a constant roar, filling the sky, shaking the foundations of the Institute and the surrounding buildings.
Wolverine padded through the boathouse on bare feet, suddenly very worried about Storm. He shoved on a pair of jeans, opened the screen door, making his way past the porch and climbing the sodden, and slick hill towards the mansion, uncaring that he was becoming soaked in the downpour. He cursed himself again for not talking to her, for backing off and giving her space. Every time he had looked at her though she had seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. Besides, he feared she would want the one thing he would be unable to give her: answers. Or worse, that she would push him away and the thought of her rejecting him robbed him of the very air he breathed.
Ororo wandered silently around the courtyard, the wind swirling around her, watching the clouds darken and roll, boiling against the night sky. Ororo made her way to the fountain, curled up on its base and watched the storm with shadowed, hurt eyes.
Logan paused at the crest of the small hill separating the Institute and the boathouse, his eyes darkening at the sight of her, their predatory gleam reflective in the dark. She hadn’t noticed him, her head was tilted back as she stared at the dancing whips of white heat arcing across the sky, oblivious to him and the three inches of rain pooling in her lap. Her long hair was drenched, slicked back from her face, and the thin nightgown she wore clung to her like a second skin, accenting every curve and hollow. She was so beautiful for a moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only stare. All around nature was erupting in fearsome fury, yet she sat in the midst of it all, because it was where she belonged. She shifted and the white soaked material of her night dress became transparent, hugging her firm, high breasts so that she looked like a pagan Goddess of old heralding the storm to her.
Despite her outward appearance Ororo’s mind was as wild and chaotic as the storm itself. Fury, hurt, betrayal, longing and love all swirled within her. She longed to rip the nightgown from her body and soar above the earth, but refrained, uncertain she could maintain the fragile control she had over the storm if she was fully immersed in it.
Logan sniffed the air, sensing her pain, her fear, her unbelievable loneliness and he hated that he was the cause of it. She raised her hands, cupping the rain, bringing it to her mouth and tilting her head, letting the silver stream flow down her throat. Logan nearly groaned out loud.
Ororo straightened, sensing him in that way she always did, turning her head slowly towards him, her blue eyes dark with the wildness and fury of the tempest in their depths. He felt it then. Need and hunger and lust and love all slam into him, staggering him. He could feel the wildness in her calling to him, he could feel the storm as it moved through her body, sang in her blood, moving around them, pulling him to her. She called to something primitive and savage in him. Called to his inner beast, his animal. He felt the dark beast inside lift its head, sensing its mate, heard it roar in his mind, felt its need for her swamp him, making him tremble. He bared his fangs, his eyes glittering silver in the night, ferocious, feral, more animal than man.
Ororo smiled at him.
Logan would never forget that moment. Not ever, The memory was burned into his mind and in his heart. She was his. The night was theirs. In spite of everything that had happened between them, there was nothing that could keep them apart, nothing that could destroy the love they had. They belonged together, two halves of one whole, hearts and minds, bodies and souls.
The air crackled as their gazes locked, searing bolts of white hot power crashed and slammed into the earth, shaking the ground. Lightening struck the side of the Institute, charring the red brick walls, spilling debris onto the ground, blistering sparks shooting up into the air.
Storm stood in the courtyard, lightening dancing and arcing across the sky directly above her, her hair whipping around her face, the rain soaking her as she raised her arms, embracing the raw power that she wielded, the answering power in nature. Logan’s breath slammed from his body in raw pants, his blood thrumming in his ears. She was indescribably perfect in that moment. She was primal, she was pure, she was nature personified, as wet and wild as the night itself.
Logan stumbled towards her, going to her because he had to. Nothing could have kept him from her, no force of man or God would prevent him from being at her side. His muscular arm wound around her waist, dragging her to him. His mouth crashing onto hers with as much intensity as the whirling deluge surrounding them. He had no words to give her, nothing he could say would ever tell her what he was feeling. How could he express what she meant to him with mere words? That she was his life, his heart, his soul. Everything.
Ororo moaned helplessly. She wanted him just like this, wet and wild and fierce and untamed, with the lightening streaking across the sky, their heat scorching the air around them. His mouth moved on hers, demanding entrance, devouring her, marking her soul.
Fire. Goddess, she was on fire for him. He stroked her lips with his tongue, teasing, nipping, tugging, his raspy growls driving her mad. His mouth wandered along her cheek, down her jaw, along her throat, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. He captured the taut peak of one breast through the flimsy material of her nightdress, suckling it through the water soaked material, frantic in his lust and love. Ororo cradled his head, a broken cry escaping her as his mouth left.
Logan’s eyes gleamed as he swung her up in his arms, racing back over the grass, sliding down the slippery hill, his mouth never leaving hers the entire way. He brought her to their front lawn, where he lowered her to the ground, moving on top of her, his hand sliding up her calf, along her thigh, bunching the soggy material of her nightdress at his wrist. He pressed his fingers against her center and thunder crashed overhead. His mouth fed on hers, sucking her tongue into his mouth as his fingers teased her, making her writhe beneath him, moving against his hand, desperate for relief from the raging heat tearing through her body. Ororo’s husky cries fed the beast in him and Logan growled, raising his head to watch her as he slid one finger deep inside, stroking her heat, her wet core. She lifted against him, her hands clutching his shoulders.
He teased her nipples with the tip of his tongue making her cry out. He withdrew his hand, edging back from her. She opened tormented eyes and he wanted to howl at the pain he saw there, the pain he had put there. -Snikt- One claw slowly extended and she watched it with avid interest. He lifted the hem of her nightgown, slicing p the middle in a long slow glide. Ororo moaned at the feeling of the cooler metal against her heated flesh. Lightening slashed and sizzled, so close he felt the heat sear his skin, but he never took his eyes from hers. He parted the white material, lowering his head to her creamy, wet skin, licking her collar bone, along the valley in between her breasts, down her flat stomach and lower still, inhaling her sweet, spicy aroma as his mouth found her slick folds under her glistening snowy thatch. God, she was perfect.
Ororo fragmented, screaming into the night, her hips rocking against his face, thunder stealing the sound, shaking the ground. She felt him breathing on her, blowing soft little puffs of air, tormenting her with his proximity. She moaned helplessly, a small sound really, but it drove him mad, shattering his self control. He sliced his soaked jeans from his throbbing body, surging into her tight sheath. He heard himself groan with pleasure, a low guttural sound, his entire body shaking in ecstasy. The wind whipped around them, a testament to Ororo’s still raging desire. He moved within her, hard and fast, moving with the force of the battering winds. He grabbed her hips, securely, rolling so that she was straddling him.
Ororo cried out as he lowered her onto his fierce erection, filling her completely, tight and erotically painful. Logan caught the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her sodden hair, pulling her face to his, molding her mouth with his. She moved slowly and his body screamed in raw pleasure. She was a vision astride him, her head thrown back, her generous breasts lifting and falling as she did, her glorious mouth parted as she moaned and whimpered. He spanned her waist with his hands, guiding her movements, lifting and lowering her with increasing speed. His head fell back in the grass, his eyes closing tight as a wave of savage rapture washed over him.
Ororo leaned forward, her tongue swirling on his rain dampened chest, her pearly teeth rasping his flat male nipples. His body jerked as she nipped one nipple hard between her delicate canines, the erotic sensation of a pleasure/pain combination searing him. He clenched his teeth against the pleasure threatening to drive him over the edge. God, he loved her. She made him whole, complete. The terrible things he’d done vanished when he was with her, the darkness on his soul was dispelled by her light. Logan hissed his breath between his teeth, whispering words of love, surging into her.
Unexpectedly Ororo rolled off of him, coming to all fours on the drenched grass, giving him a smoldering look over the flawless curve of her shoulder. Logan rose to his knees behind her, stroking the delectable curve of her ass, moving his mouth to taste her again. Ororo tore clumps of grass from the ground, moaning. He pressed against her, his hard length swelling even more. “Christ, ‘Ro, what you do to me,” he growled. He gripped her hips as he buried himself in her, deeper, and deeper, harder and faster. The silken muscles along her back flexed as she stretched out before him. So feminine and so strong, his ‘Ro. She reared against him, straightening so that her hair flung over his shoulder, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She licked the rain from him, inhaling his earthy male scent. He growled, plunging harder, the pleasure beyond intense. He gripped her breasts from behind, groaning her name in her ear.
“Not like this, baby,” Logan growled, laying her down and rolling her, settling between her thighs. “I wanna see yer beautiful face.” he kissed her slowly, lingeringly. His palms came up to cradled her jaw, holding her when she would have looked away. His strokes slowed, long and deep, his eyes intense. He brushed his mouth across hers repeatedly, the barest of touches. “I love ya, darlin’.”
The rain intensified, torrential, driving.
Logan moved gently, nuzzling her throat, licking her ear, murmuring low rumbles.
Lightening flashed and thunder rolled.
“Open yer eyes, ‘Ro.” He captured her bottom lip between his silken ones, holding it as he spoke. “Look at me.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes.” he buried himself to the hilt, rotating his hips slightly, making her eyes flutter. “Look at me, baby.”
Ororo opened her eyes, tears slipping past her dark lashes, mixing with the rain, but he knew, he could smell them. He rocked against her, holding her close. He ran his hands through her hair, his eyes locked with hers. “I’m sorry.” he said hoarsely. “I’m so sorry, ‘Ro.”
Lightening whipped the ground directly beside them. Ororo’s eyes began to cloud white. “Don’t.” he whispered. “Don’t hide from me.”
“No, that’s what you do, Wolverine.” she said quietly, her eyes once again blue.
He felt as if she’d punched him in the gut with the use of his code name. He slid slowly out of her, sinking back in with a slow glide. He lowered his head to hers, taking over her mouth with the most devastating kiss he’d ever given her. He coaxed her lips apart, savoring her surrender, drinking deeply from her. He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, his hips increasing tempo. Ororo gave a broken sob of pleasure, so close to orgasm, but he’d take her just to the peak and slowly bring her back down again, tormenting her and thrilling her at the same time.
“Please…” she cried as he moved almost completely out of her, teasing her clit with his fingers.
“Please, what?” He surged back in.
She whimpered, wrapping her legs around him, trying to regain some control. The winds howled, thunder echoing off the boathouse.
“W-wolverine, please,” she moaned.
He stilled within her. “Who am I, ‘Ro?”
She met his gaze steadily. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Yes, ya do, baby. Yer the only one that knows.” He cradled her close, pumping furiously now. He groaned when he felt her teeth sink into his shoulder and her nails rake his back. “Ah, hell, darlin’.” He gripped her bare backside in his hands, pounding into her.
“Yes,” she moaned, writhing. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Is this what ya want? Hard and fast?” he growled.
“Yes.” she said.
“Ya want me ta fuck ya?”
“Yes.”
“Ya want me ta love ya?”
“No.”
“Fuck you, ‘Ro.”
“Yes, Wolverine, fuck me.”
Her throaty command was almost his undoing. He felt the beast roar, happy to oblige. No! He wouldn’t let her do this, wouldn’t let her take the love out of this. He grunted with the effort to slow himself down again, but he did, slowing the pace, holding her. “’Ro, baby, I love ya. Let me show ya how much,” he pleaded gently.
“No!” she screamed. “It’s just sex! I hate you!!”
He felt tears in his eyes at her words, his throat tight. “No, it’s not,” he denied.
Ororo made no response, turning her head away from him.
Logan trailed soft kisses along her exposed neck, his mouth moist and gentle. “This is love, Ororo. Don’t lie ta yerself or ta me.” He rubbed himself against her leisurely, nuzzling her where her shoulder and neck met.
“You left me.” she whispered, raw.
“I’m sorry.” he croaked.
“You lied to me. You said…you said you’d never let me go…” She was close to losing her anger now and that terrified her. Stay mad, stay pissed. Bastard. Left you. Walked out. Left.
Logan kissed her tenderly. He rocked in and out of her, the friction building. “Ororo.” He held her hips, surging relentlessly. “Who am I?”
“Wolverine.”
“Wrong.” he pounded into her.
“Who am I?”
“Wolverine.”
“Wrong!” He bared his teeth, his eyes flashing in the night, reflecting the lightening sizzling overhead. His dark hair splashed rain as he moved, furiously now, consumed. He slid all the way out, rubbing the head of his engorged cock against her clit, stroking her unmercifully. Ororo arched against him, her hips undulating as he moved. He rammed into her again. “Who am I?”
Ororo was hopelessly lost in sensation now. “L-logan.”
He growled. “Close.” He lifted her off the ground, bringing her up to face him as he impaled her over and over. “Tell me. Who am I?” He buried his hands in the thick fullness of her soaking wet tresses, holding her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell me, ‘Ro.” his voice broke.
All the heartache and pain came rushing from her in a shattered cry. “My husband!” She hit him in the chest with her fists, harsh sobs wracking her body. She lowered her head to his shoulder, hitting him futilely until he captured her wrists, holding them together, locked between their straining bodies. “My…heart…”
“Yes.” Logan kissed her forcefully, all the turbulent emotions swirling between them reflected in the crashing thunder and torrential rains, in the way they clung to each other, desperately.
“Logan!!” Ororo screamed as her body came apart on his, lightening scalding them both as she lost herself in the beauty of their lovemaking and the power of the storm. Logan grunted at the impact, but cradled her close, relishing the feel of her body tightening around his, milking his orgasm from him mere seconds later. He roared her name, biting her shoulder, thrusting to the hilt.
They sat, welded together for long minutes, her head on his shoulder, face buried in his neck, his arms tight around her. Slowly the winds began to die down, nature’s fury subsiding with Ororo’s. their hearts slowed to normal, their breathing returning from ragged and heavy to long and deep.
Logan kissed her temples, her cheek, along her jaw. “You are my everything, ‘Ro.”
She clung to him, holding him in mute shock at the intensity of her need for him.
Logan scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the boathouse, too exhausted to go further than the living room. He pulled their favorite fuzzy blanket from the back of the couch, laying it on the floor in front of the fire place. He lowered her gently, started a small fire, then moved to lay beside her.
Ororo pillowed her head on his broad chest closing her eyes tightly. She placed her clenched fist against her swollen lips and Logan could feel her silent sobs as she shook. He murmured to her, stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. “Never again, Logan.” she whispered. “You can never leave me again.”
“Never, ‘Ro.” he swore. Now that he’d seen her again, touched her, loved her, he knew, he could never be apart from her again.
She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself as close as she could get. “I love you. Whatever you have to face, Logan, we face together. As a team.”
Logan crushed her to him. He didn’t deserve her. He never would. But he’d never give her up again. Not for anyone or anything.
The remainder of the night they lay awake, softly whispering to each other, and just as the first rays of morning light were creeping through the windows Logan rolled her to her back and slowly showed her how much he loved her, over and over again.

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Boathouse


The sun rose steadily across the sky, changing the earth’s blanket from deep purple to a beautiful blend of reds and orange until finally replacing the shadows with the vivid blue of a pure sky, the perfect match to Ororo’s eyes. From his seat of the front stoop Logan watched the sunrise, sipping his coffee, inhaling the fresh sent of the earth after the rain. A light breeze danced along his bare shoulders and a he closed his gray eyes, content.
In the house, still sprawled on the living room floor, Ororo stirred, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur of the blanket beneath her, inhaling Logan’s lingering scent. Logan! Her hand shot out, closing on empty space and she jerked up, panicked. He had left again! Her chest tightened painfully, tears clogging her throat.
“Mornin’, darlin’.”
Ororo turned quickly, pushing her tousled hair from her watery eyes. “Logan.” she breathed.
Frowning her crossed the foyer and took the small step down into the living room. “’Ro?” He knelt beside her, cupping her cheek. “What’s the matter, babe?”
“I thought you’d left,” she confessed on a harsh whisper.
“Ah, baby.” He pulled her into his arms. Damn. It never occurred to him that if she woke alone she’d assume the worst. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him almost desperately. He held in much the same way, barely containing the urge to squeeze, knowing his arms could easily break her ribs. He tilted her chin up, lowering his mouth to hers, softly massaging, at times barely touching. One hand stroked her hair, loving the way it sifted through his fingers like a silken cloud, the other cradled her face, is thumb brushing her cheekbone.
“Logan, forgive me for what I said last night. I wasn’t-”
“Don’t.” He said quickly. He took a sharp breath, his eyes darkening. “Don’t ever ask for my forgiveness, ‘Ro. I ain’t worth it. I don‘t deserve ya, we both know that.”
She bent her head, her long hair hiding her face from him. “I can’t lose you again.” she said quietly.
Logan sat beside her, pulling her onto his lap, cradling her to his chest. “I’m sorry I left. What I did to ya…I still have a hard time knowing that I hurt ya. I couldn’t face it.” He kissed the top of her head. “But ya never lost me, darlin’. I’m yers. Not much of a prize, but there ya have it.”
She turned her face into his throat, her arms circling his neck, her hands clutching the ebony midnight of his hair. “I need you to have more faith in me. I’m your wife, Logan. For better or worse, ‘till death do us part. I meant those vows.”
He dropped his head protectively over hers. “I know ya did, darlin’. I love ya, ‘Roro. More than ya can possibly know.”
She burrowed closer, as if trying to get inside of him. Her delicious wiggles sparking more than tenderness. Logan tightened his arms reflexively. Ororo laid her palm on the hard wall of his broad chest, marveling at the crisp hairs, the heat radiating from him, the raw, untamed power that was held in careful control. He was power and strength. He was wild and lawless. He was her husband and her heart. She gazed up at him in loving wonder.
Logan smiled down at her. “What is it yer thinkin’?”
She touched her fingertips to his stubborn chin, a slow smile of her own tilting her full lips. Very deliberately she lifted her mouth to his, kissing him slowly, thoroughly. “Don’t ever leave me again, husband. I’m lost and dead inside without you.”
A sharp pain twisted in his gut and he pressed his forehead to hers. “Never.” He kissed her neck, trailing a living flame of fire along the swanlike column to her collar bone. He lowered her to the furry blanket, standing to remove his boxers.
Ororo’s breath caught at the sight of his fierce arousal. She licked her lips and he groaned. Ororo gave a soft, throaty chuckle to which he growled, lowering himself over her, crawling up her body. Ororo touched his chest lightly with just the tips of her fingers, watching his face with interest as she let just a frission of electricity out, teasing his nipples. His jaw clenched, his hips bucking unconsciously. Very interesting. She trailed her hands lower, teasing the rock hard muscles of his abdomen and she felt him suck in a breath. Her fingers wrapped around the thick hard length of him, and he shuddered. Ororo danced her hands along his fevered flesh, teasing, and toying with him.
He grasped her hands, his need so intense it was painful. “’Ro.” he warned with a rumble.
“Yes?” she asked with wide eyed innocence.
Instead of responding her released her wrists, sliding his rough hands along her smooth body, cupping her perfect breasts. Ororo moaned, arching into his warm palms. He teased her nipples, barely touching, hovering over the ultra sensitive peaks.
“Ya like that, darlin’?”
“You know I do,” she panted. She slowly opened her legs. “Touch me.”
Logan growled, low and deep. Vixen. He pressed one hand against her damp center, rubbing her gently, parting her folds, his breath slamming in and out of his lungs as she lifted her hips against him. He reached for her hand, sliding it down her flat stomach, placing it where his hand had moments ago been. She gave him a questioning look. “Feel what I feel,” he murmured, linking there fingers and moving their joined hands over her throbbing flesh. Her head fell back and she moaned. “Ya feel so good, like hot silk.” He moved their hands aside, licking her. He kept his eyes on her face as he stroked with just the very tip of his tongue. She jerked up, a sound half sob, half moan coming from her.
“I need you inside of me. Now.”
Logan’s hips surged forward almost against his own will, his body hers to command. Her fingers dug into the taut muscles of his buttocks, urging him deeper. “Christ.” He hooked his arms under her thighs, lifting her as he buried himself as deep as he could. Her breathless moans and restless movements driving him mad. He burned for her. He was buried to the hilt and still he burned for her. Fuck. Oh, fuck. She was clenching her inner muscles and he shook with forced restraint, trying not to come like an untried schoolboy.
Outside the wind picked up, rattling the windows. Neither one of them cared.
Logan slowly sank in and out of her, finding every hollow and shadowed place with his mouth and tongue, kissing her and nipping her as he moved. He wanted to show her again how much he loved her. How much she meant to him. His ‘Ro. She drove away the demons plaguing him, took away the terrible loneliness, replaced the horrible sights and hideous deaths he had witnessed and replaced it all with warmth and love and understanding. He meant what he said, he would never be worthy of her, but he was damn sure going to spend every day of the rest of his worthless life trying to be.
Ororo made an inarticulate cry as his hips increased their pounding, taking her to places only Logan could take her. He took his time, ensuring her pleasure, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm until she was certain she would die from the pleasure. As she shuddered in the throws of yet another shattering release she felt his teeth sink into her neck, marking her as his he found his own release, his roar muffled against her skin.
Logan groaned, his seed pouring forth in a great gushing torrent, his body trembling uncontrollably. She was clinging to him, crying out his name, murmuring her love for him and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. She was his. He never wanted to stop, afraid that if he let her go she would somehow vanish, dissolve like a dream. He growled, his breath hissing between bared fangs, angry at himself for ever leaving her in the first place.
Ororo opened her still lust clouded eyes slowly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Logan wrapped one large fist in her hair. “No, darlin’. Ya make everything right.” He rolled off of her, pulling her with him so that she lay across his sweat dampened chest. She rested her chin on folded arms, studying him.
“We make everything right,” she said after a moment. “Together.”
“Together,” he confirmed, pulling her down for a long kiss.
“We need a shower,” she said pulling away slowly.
Logan grunted. Ororo rose to her feet, padding her way across the kitchen, unabashedly naked. She sent him an artless smile over her shoulder. “Coming?”
Logan followed, curious when she passed the bathroom and instead headed towards the back of the house, through the storage room and out the back door. She continued down the small embankment towards the dock. She raised her arms over her head and instantly a small, self contained rain shower erupted over her head. Logan grinned.


Later

“Welcome back, Wolverine.” Professor Xavier said when Logan stepped through the doors of the bookless library.
“Chuck.” Wolverine inclined his head.
“I am to assume that you will be staying?” Xavier asked, but since they both already knew the answer Wolverine ignored the question.
He crossed his arms leaning against the closed doors. “What is it ya wanted ta see me about, Chuck?”
“Your wife.”
Wolverine frowned. “What about Storm?”
Xavier rolled forward, the cat that frequented his lap stretching, casting Wolverine a disdainful look as if blaming him for the disturbance to its sleep. “Not Storm.”
“Hnh. So, Wraith was telling’ the truth. I’ve been married before?”
The Professor nodded. “I was only able to extract a limited amount of information before Wraith was shut down.”
Something in the Professor’s tone gave Wolverine pause. Wraith was ‘shut down’? One corner of Logan’s mouth turned up. Xavier wasn’t such a pacifist after all. “Well, what’d the SOB have on me?”
“Little more than we already know about you. However, I did get a name. James Howlett. Does that mean anything to you?”
Wolverine shrugged broad shoulders, a rippling of muscle and power. “Should it?”
Xavier stroked the cat. “I think that may be the name you were born with.”
“Wraith called me James,” Wolverine muttered. “What else?”
“Apparently you were an established member of the program when Wraith came on board Weapon X. Thirty years ago.” Xavier paused. “There is a military record for a James Howlett that I’ve managed to discover. It dates back to before World War II. I‘ve found an enrollment listing dated November 1937. ”
Wolverine inhaled sharply. “But that would mean I’m over seventy years old.”
Xavier gave him a steady stare. “Possibly far older than that. With your healing factor, Wolverine, aging may be something you do much less quickly than most.”
Wolverine felt his anger rising. How many years of his life had those fuckers taken from him? Goddamnit! Wolverine glowered, silent, waiting for the next blow.
“I contacted some of my sources and they’re looking into the other names I extracted from Wraith. A doctor Cornelius, and a Mariko Yashida.”
“My…wife?”
“Possibly. It’s hard to say for certain. Wraith’s mind was very jumbled from Betsy’s attack.”
“So, just more bullshit and innuendos. Ya don’t have any more than that?”
“Not at this time, no. I will of course keep searching and keep you updated. Good day, Wolverine.” Xavier rotated the chair, rolling back to the center of the room. “Wolverine, I wouldn’t mention anything to Storm just yet. She’s been through enough.”
Wolverine gave a curt nod, letting himself out of the room. He was growling low in his throat. Just when he thought that maybe, just maybe he had those cocksuckers out of his life…Son of a bitch! He slammed his fist into the wall.
“Wolverine?”
He glanced up to see Betsy in the hall. She walked towards him, her body lithe and panther-like. “Everything all right?”
“Fine, Bets. Everything is just fine.”
“Hmm. Judging from the hole you just put in the wall, I’d say you’re definition of fine could use some work.”
“Cute. So, ya decided to leave S.T.R.I.K.E did ya?”
“More or less.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I was asked to leave. Apparently I developed a ‘personality problem’ after I took over Kwannon’s body.” She shrugged.
Wolverine pulled a cigar from his Harley vest. “We’re lucky ta have ya.”
“Thanks.” She gave him an assessing look. “Are you back to stay? Or is this just a visit?”
“I’m staying.”
“Good. Your wife missed you.”
He gave her a narrow look. “You and Storm friends?”
“Not really. We spar occasionally. But this is the first sunny day Westchester has seen in months. I find it somehow beyond coincidental.”
Wolverine couldn’t help the flare of pain and pride that he felt knowing Storm had missed him. “Speakin’ of my wife, ya seen Storm around?”
“A while ago. She and Ali were taking your new fledgling shopping.”



Salem Center Mall

“Doesn’t this kid get tired?” Alison asked dropping the armload of bags she was carrying, rubbing her wrists.
“Apparently not,” Ororo stated, watching as Jubilee held up two T-shirts in front of her, parading in front of a full length mirror. She turned to Ali and Storm.
“Which one?”
“The blue one,” Ali answered.
Jubilee looked at the two shirts in her hand. “Really? Not the yellow?”
“Ok, fine. The yellow one.”
Jubilee turned back to the mirror. “Hmm. Maybe I should keep looking.”
“Uuugh.” Ali threw up her hands. “Remind me again, why we’re doing this?”
Ororo smiled, her blue eyes twinkling behind her sunglasses. “Because she’s now a member of Xavier’s dysfunctional little family.”
“Right.” Alison grinned. It was nice to have her best friend back and not the empty shell she’d been up until recently. “How are things with you and Wolverine?”
Ororo blushed. “He’s home to stay,” she answered.
“Good.” Alison nodded. She stretched her arms over her head, causing the deep green tank top she was wearing to rise on her flat stomach, revealing the thin straps of her red thong under her low rise jeans.
Several long minutes later Jubilee finished browsing, deciding on both the blue and yellow T-shirts. “Where to next?” she asked happily.
“Home.” Ali said. “Some of us have other plans today.”
“Lounging by the pool staring at Gambit doesn’t count as other plans, Ali.”
Ali winked at Storm. “You have to admit there are very few more appealing ways to spend your time. That boy is just eye-candy, pure and simple. With that body! Broad chest, flat abs, tight ass…Yum.”
“Okay, negating the fact that the man is my BROTHER, that was still more visual than I needed.” Ororo picked up her packages. “Ready?” she asked Jubilee.
“Sure. I wanna get back and see Wolvie anyways.”
Ali coughed into her hand, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. The girls stopped by a small diner for a bite, Jubilee asking a million and one questions, wanting to know how they all came to the school, how Wolvie and Storm hooked up, who was Xavier, why did everyone wear silly costumes, where could she get a silly costume, who was single, who was a bitch, how did one get to be an X-Man?
“Geez, kid, breathe,” Ali muttered.
They spent a lot of time talking and the more they were around her, the more Ororo and Ali liked Jubilee. She was funny and full of spunk.
Hours later as they were pulling the Shelby GT into the driveway, Kurt bamfed onto the hood of the car.
“Man! You have got to stop doing that!” Jubilee squealed.
He grinned, yellow eyes glowing, white fangs gleaming. “Football on the back lawn in one hour. Come watch?”
Ali and Ororo exchanged looks. “You sure you should be playing football, Kurt?” Ali asked.
“I’m the ref,” he explained.
“Oh.” Ali looked at Storm. “Wanna?”
“Sure.”
Kurt glanced at Jubilee. “How about you?”
“I don’t know…”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Jubilee grinned. “Okay.”
“Great.” *BAMF*
“He’s cute.” Jubilee said with a smile.
“Too old for you.” Ali responded. “You’re like what, twelve?”
“Fifteen!”
“Oh, sorry.” Ali rolled her eyes. “Kurt’s nineteen. You’re jailbait.”
“A girl can look.”
“Just so long as that’s all you do.” Ali pulled her bags from the seat. “Come on Lolita, let’s go put your stuff away. See you in an hour, Stormy.”
Storm‘s eyes flashed white. “Remind me to beat Gambit senseless for teaching you that horrid nickname.”
“Geez. Is she serious?” Jubilee asked as they strode into the mansion.
Ali laughed. “Very.”

Back Lawn

“Oooh. That had to hurt.” Ali winced as Colossus and Wolverine collided.
Storm peered through the fingers over her eyes. “Is he alright?”
Jubilee punched her in the arm. “Course he is. He’s indestructible! Go Wolvie!!”
Ali stood up. “Go team!”
“Which team?” Jean asked from behind them on the small bleachers.
“Ehn. Whichever one’s winning.”
Cyclops threw the ball long, a sweet pass to Warren, who was in the air, spiraling with the ball towards the goal. “Touchdown!”
Kurt’s arms were in the air. “Halftime!”
Alison looked at Storm and Jubilee. “Ready?”
Storm grinned. “You know he’s going to kill us, right?”
“Probably.” Ali laughed. “Come on Jubes. Stormy, go get ready.” The two girls took the center of the makeshift field, Alison carrying a large boom box. She glanced at the sidelines where the two teams were seated, talking strategy. “May I have your attention please?” she shouted.
All eyes were on them.
Alison smiled her imp smile, pointing at Wolverine. “This one’s for you, big man! Welcome home!” She pressed play on the stereo and instantly loud music wafted in the air.
Storm dropped from the sky, wearing a very skimpy cheerleader outfit, her long hair in a high ponytail, her short skirt flouncing as she landed. Bobby let out a low whistle and even Cyclops seemed riveted. Storm grinned cheekily, blowing Wolverine a kiss, before moving to the music blasting from the stereo. Shaking her ass, flashing her X marked bloomers and rustling her pom-poms, ironically borrowed from Jean.
It took a moment for them to realize that the lyrics to the song had been changed, but when they did, all eyes turned to Wolverine.

Oh Wolvie You're so fine,
You’re so fine you blow my mind.
Hey Wolvie(Huff Huff)
Hey Wolvie(Huff Huff)
Oh Wolvie You’re so Fine,
You’re so Fine You Blow My Mind
Hey Wolvie (Huff Huff)
Hey Wolvie
Oh Wolvie what a pity you don’t understand
You take me by the heart
You take me by the hand
Oh Wolvie You’re so pretty
Cant you understand?
Its guys like you Wolvie
Oh what you do Wolvie
Do Wolvie
Don’t break my heart Wolvie.

Wolverine strode towards the dancing Storm, a dark scowl on his face,. She took a step away from him, then another and another, until she broke into a run, laughing as he caught her from behind, swinging her over his shoulder, screaming as he tickled her unmercifully. “Ya think that’s funny?”
“Y-yes,” she gasped laughing. “B-blame-Ah!, Blame Jubilee! Ahh! Stop!” She writhed under his onslaught.
As if conjured into being by the sound of her name Jubilee threw herself on Wolverine’s back. “I got him! Don’t worry, Storm, I‘ll save you! Eeep!”
Wolverine growled, tossing Jubilee over his shoulder, tossing her gently on the grass beside Storm. “Here’s a good rule of thumb fer ya ta follow,” he said, a crooked smile on his face. “If the thought of something makes ya giggle fer more than fifteen seconds, yer ta assume that yer not allowed ta do it.”
“Aw, come on. You liked it!” Jubilee teased.
Wolverine’s dark gaze settled on a still sprawled out Storm. He gave her skimpy outfit a brief once over, his smile turning predatory. “Yeah, I like it.” He reached down, pulling her to her feet before tossing her over his shoulder, her arms dangling down his back, his arm locked around her legs. “I’m out, Scooter,” he called over his shoulder, walking away from the field.
Ororo lifted her head, brushing her ponytail out of her face. She waved to Ali, her grin brilliant.
“’Ow come you not wear a cute cheerleadin’ outfit for me, bella?” Gambit asked coming up behind her, arms wrapping around her bare midriff.
Before Ali could respond Jubilee strolled past, popping a bubble in her mouth, lowering her sunglasses. She gave Gambit a once over, then winked at Ali. “Not bad.”
Gambit chuckled. “I like ‘er.”
Ali pinched him. “Little flirt!” she called after Jubilee.
“You know it!” Jubilee called back. “You know,” she said to no one in particular, “I think I’m gonna like it here.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Boathouse

“I don’t like it, ‘Ro.”
“Logan, it’s just a simple undercover job. I’ve done dozens already.” Ororo said, flipping the page of the book she was reading at the kitchen bar, the early morning light making her hair gleam.
Logan came up behind the barstool, wrapping his thick arms around her robe clad middle, hugging her back against him, rubbing his whiskered chin into her hair. “See, you’ve done yer share. Give it to someone else.”
Ororo leaned back, welcoming the warmth from his embrace, smiling at his ‘no arguments’ tone. He really was quite arrogant, she thought with a happy sigh. “Logan, we’ve been over this. I have a responsibility. I am your team leader, unless you’ve forgotten.”
“We both know I don’t take orders from anyone, ‘Ro, so lets put that leader shit on a shelf, eh?”
Ororo swiveled in the seat, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t push it, Bub,” she said with a poke in his bare chest. Goddess, he was unbearably sexy. He oozed it from every pore in his body. Sensual, untamed, animal magnetism.
Logan’s eyes darkened, sensing the shift in her. He stepped forward so that they were scant inches apart, leaning forward so his breath mingled with hers, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Push what?”
Ororo blinked slowly, inhaling the masculine scent that was his and his alone. “I forget…”
“Good.” He claimed her mouth, his tongue slipping past her startled lips easily, dancing with hers in a slippery tango. He groaned as her hands busied themselves stroking his chest and shoulders. Her touch drove him mad, each and every time they were together. He knew he’d never get enough of her, never be sated. He craved her like nothing else, his body needing her more than it needed air. “Yer so beautiful, angel,” he whispered into her mouth. “Ya make me crazy. Feel how much I want ya.” He grasped her hand in his, sliding it down the front of his jeans where he was rock hard under the denim, straining for release. He rocked against her palm, making her gasp.
“Only as much as I want you,” she returned, taking his other hand and slipping it between her thighs. He could feel her moist heat through her lace panties and he growled. -SNIKT-
With a slow smile Ororo lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to cut her underwear from her body, completely trusting him. “I love you,” she whispered into his hair as licked her neck, sucking and nipping gently.
“Then don’t go,” he rasped.
“Logan, I have to.”
He grumbled, teeth grazing her pulse. “Maybe I can persuade ya otherwise,” he murmured, sliding one finger into her heat.
Ororo bit her lip, a low moan escaping. “You can’t just seduce me to get your way.”
“Watch me.”



Danger Room


“Heads up, Blue Boy!” Wolverine leapt with animal grace, his foot planting in the center of Hank’s back, launching himself into the air, claws extended, slashing through six of the spinning orbs firing at them with lightening quickness.
“Your dexterousness never ceases to amaze me, Wolverine.” Beast said, settling one large hand on the ground, rotating and kicking away several attacking droids.
“Same goes fer yer vocabulary,” Wolverine said, cracking the skulls of two holograms together. “Ya ever try speakin’ English?”
“A joke? From the Wolverine. Well, wonders never cease. It is astounding what the love of a exceptional woman can do to alleviate some of a man’s ill-humors, no?” A furry fist decimated another robotic opponent. “Storm is, in fact, one in a million, Wolverine. You are a profoundly privileged man.”
Wolverine grunted, spiraling in the air to avoid the spinning razors of a mechanical arm slicing at him. “Don’t I know it.”
From above in the watchtower turret Jean selected a new program, pushing the settings up a notch, making it a bit more challenging. “This room is designed for training for missions, and experimenting with our powers, as well as basic exercise. It is multifunctional and very effective,” Jean explained to a wide eyed Jubilee. “Used properly it is a valuable tool in the training of the X-Men and the future X-Men.”
“And if used improperly?” Jubilee asked, picturing the fun she could have in the room below. She’d been at the Institute for a few weeks now and had yet to see everything. The place was huge and full of all sorts of cool and nifty gadgets.
Jean turned on the automatic weapon turrets, bullets spraying the floor, causing the two men below to take evasive action. “It could kill you.”
“Got a bug up yer ass today, Jeannie?” Wolverine called, slicing through the mounted guns along the walls.
“Hardly. Just showing Jubilee here what this room is capable of.” Jean gave the younger girl a look. “The Danger Room is not for play…or parties.”
Jubilee looked surprised.
“Telepath.” Jean said with a smirk.
“Oh. So you can read minds?”
“Yep.”
“Neat. What am I thinking right now?” Jubilee scrunched her face.
“Fork.”
“Lucky Guess. How about now?”
Jean gripped the console, her face going completely white. “Oh, God.”
Jubilee reached for her. “Oh, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to gross you out or nothing.”
“N-no, it’s not you.” Jean pressed her fingertips to her head. “Scott…” The room blurred before her, spinning chaotically before going gray, then black as she passed out, her red hair spilling across her pale face.
Jubilee ‘oomphed’ as she caught Jean, preventing her head from cracking on the console. “Crappola.” She lowered Jean onto the floor as best she could, mindful of her head. She grabbed the microphone she had seen Jean talking into, looking for a button or something to get Wolverine’s attention. When she could find none she pounded her hands on the glass. “Hey!! Hey!!” she called. “Wolverine!”
*Relax, child. I’ve alerted them.*
Jubilee jerked at the echoing male voice in her mind. *Cripes, you’re in my head!*
*Yes. A rather colorful place to be.*
*Really?*
The door to the watchtower slid open and Wolverine and Hank entered, both wearing worried frowns. “What happened, kiddo?” Wolverine asked, watching as Hank bent over Jean, checking her pulse.
Jubilee gave him a confused shrug, raising her hands. “Psychic girl was reading my mind, a colorful place to be, apparently, then she grabbed her head, said ‘Scott’, then lights out sista.”
“She’s coming to.” Beast said, helping Jean sit up. She took several shaky breaths.
*Professor…?*
*I sense the loss also, Jean.*
Sensing she was communicating with Xavier, Wolverine waited a moment before demanding, “What’s goin’ on?”
Jean lifted tear filled green eyes to his hard gray ones. “I’ve lost my link with Cyclops.”
Wolverine stiffened. Cyke and ‘Ro were scouting a Colorado school where two students, suspected mutants, had gone missing. “What’s that mean, exactly?” he was growling, unintentionally baring his fangs.
Jean slowly got to her feet with Hank’s assistance, obviously upset. “It could mean a lot of things, but the abruptness of the disconnect…” Her lips trembled.
“Our friends could be in very real trouble.” Beast interceded.
Wolverine swore. He’d had a bad feeling about this mission from the get go, had told her to skip it, but nooo. She’d had to go, said it was her responsibility. Son of a bitch!

Cascade Falls, Colorado
A few minutes ago

“Do you see them?”
“No.” Ororo sighed, pulling her binoculars away from her eyes. She’d been staking out an old campsite for hours now, waiting for any sign of activity. Earlier four men had gone in to one of the smaller cabins, but had yet to come out again.
“I’ll give you another five minutes, then I’m coming to get you,” Cyclops said, his voice firm in her earpiece.
“Aye, Aye, Skipper.” Storm muttered. There was something fishy about the men and the entire campsite setup, she could feel it, but Cyclops thought she was wasting their time here, wanting her to return to the school with him and question the students.
Five minutes later, on the dot, Ororo heard the whine of the small fighter jet she and Scott had arrived in closing in on her. She smiled. Punctual. The man was obsessive compulsive about everything. She rose from her crouch in the bushes, putting her canteen and binoculars in her backpack before slinging it over her shoulder. She stretched, the material of her uniform moving with her. Without warning the ground under her feet began to shake, rocks skittering around her boots, trees trembling. “What the-?”
“Sentinel!” Cyclops said over the link. “Right behind me!… I’m hit!”
“Cyclops!” Storm threw her pack to the ground, using a gale force wind to launch herself into the air, clearing the tree line and soaring high into the atmosphere, well past the point of normal human capabilities, the air in her lungs cold. Immediately she saw the X-jet spinning wildly in the sky, flames and smoke shooting from its wrecked body, a towering Sentinel in flight behind the plane, lashing out with a long whip slicing the side of the falling craft wide open.
Without hesitation she flew forward, her blue eyes swirling to angry white. She sent two bolts of lightening crashing into the Sentinel, knocking it back, sending it to the ground below. She moved so that she was directly in line with the jet as it plummeted from the sky, and she grit her teeth, summoning the winds to her, cocooning them around the plane, trying to stop the spin and slow the descent. She sent a mini gulf stream into the nose, hoping to at least slow it down enough to prevent a fatal crash-landing.
“Storm! What are you doing! Get out of the way or we’ll both be killed!”
“Can you eject?” She asked, her body shaking with the strain of trying to stop the hurtling jet.
“Negative. The cockpits badly caved in. Storm!”
The sentinel was up again, surprising her. Those bolts should have wiped it out. She rolled in the air, narrowly avoiding a laser blast, the effort costing her precious concentration and she felt her winds die down the jet freefalling towards the ground. Storm reacted instinctively, conjuring up a tornado with enough wind velocity to hurl the towering Sentinel into the mountains just beyond them before folding her arms tight at her sides, bulleting after Cyclops. The ground was approaching rapidly, and she didn’t think she could stop the plummeting plane, she only hoped she could slow it down enough so that Cyclops would survive.
“Hang on, Fearless,” she said. “This is going to be a bit bumpy.” She landed over the glass cockpit, riding the jet as it fell.
“Storm!” Cyclops pressed his hand to the glass, palm up, fingers splayed. “Save yourself!”
She looked at him through the cracked and smoky windshield, pressing her hand against his on the opposite side. “X-men stand together, Cyclops and X-men fall together. Now, hold on!”
THWOOOOM!!
The impact was felt miles away, the sound unforgettable to many. Dirt and debris sprayed the sky, raining down in clumps, rocks tinkering off the smoldering wreckage. Cyclops’s head hung forward, blood trickling down his face, his head lolling to the side as he struggled for consciousness. “Storm…” It was a battle he lost, his shoulders slumping, only held upright by the five point harness that was locked across his chest.
On the ground, several feet away, her location mapped by the deep groove her body plowed in the soil, Storm’s arms shook as she tried to raise herself from her stomach.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Hello, again, bitch.”
Storm turned her head, peering through the tangled and bloody mass of hair covering her face. “No,” she croaked out, “you’re dead…” Then nothing as the world faded and black emptiness filled her conscious mind.


Xavier Institute
Cerebro


“How long’s this gonna take?” Wolverine growled, pacing back and forth, his claws SNIKT-ing in and out between his knuckles.
“As long as it takes.” Jean said quietly. Though she appeared calm Wolverine could smell her fear and sadness. “It’s a delicate procedure working with Cerebro, Wolverine.”
“Hnh.”
“That means he doesn’t wanna talk anymore,” Jubilee translated from her seat on the bench in the hall, watching Wolverine warily. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.”
Wolverine gave her a sharp look.
“Shutting up now.” Jubilee made a show of buttoning her lips. Once again silence, save for the hiss of metal claws, descended on the hall way. Jubilee studied the man who was fast becoming a father figure to her and sighed. He was very worried about Storm. She could tell by the furrows on his forehead, the steel glint in his eye, the way his mouth tilted down at the corner.
He was a unique individual, even among mutants, Jubilee mused. There was something just under the surface, something not quite human, almost…animal. Not that he wasn’t attractive, in a rough around the edges, borderline psycho way, ‘cause she was sure if she were like a decade older, he’d be hot to her, but his looks weren’t what caught and held a person. It was the predatory way he looked at you, the way the hair on the back of your neck stood on end when he was in the room, the way he made you feel somehow like prey. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but now she was comforted by it, she had immediately seen past the bluster and snarls to the soft heart underneath. He had saved her and given her the first home she’d had in years, for that he had her unswerving loyalty.
The sound of hydraulics releasing and the sealed doors of Cerebro separating brought all three hall occupants up short.
“Professor?” Jean stepped towards her mentor as he wheeled forward, looking a bit haggard.
“They are alive.” He gripped her hand in his, giving it a comforting pat.
“Where?” Wolverine snarled.
“They are currently moving. I am uncertain as to their location. I believe that they are in a vehicle giving the velocity at which they are traveling. Assemble the teams, meet me in the War Room.”
Jean took the hand rests behind his chair, rolling him down the long, silver hallway, wondering why he hadn’t mentally called the teams to them, but getting the answer as a wave of fatigue swept over her. Xavier was exhausted.

War Room

“Cyclops and Storm’s last known location was a school outside of Cascade Falls, Colorado.” A bright red dot blipped on the three dimensional map. “That is no longer the case.” A green dot blipped to life, moving along the map. “This is the best fix I was able to get on them.”
“So, where are they? When do we go find them?” Bobby sat forward.
Xavier turned off the map. “We don’t. For now Cyclops and Storm are on their own.”
“What?!?” Several of the team members sat straighter in their chairs, angry and worried scowls on their faces.
-SNIKT- “Come again?”
“Sheathe the claws, Wolverine.” The Professor said quietly. “They are quite capable of taking care of themselves. They are two of the best among you, which is why you follow them into battle. I have the utmost confidence in their capabilities.”
Jean was flabbergasted “But, Professor…”
“There is nothing more to discuss. The decision has been made.” Xavier said. “I only asked you all here to set up hourly monitoring teams. Wolverine and Jean will take first watch, followed by Gambit and Hank, then Alison and Warren. We‘ll rotate more in if necessary.”
“You can’t expect us to just sit here while two of our guys are out there,” Bobby complained. “I mean , that’s a bit cold. No pun intended.”
“I expect you to follow your orders.”
“Yer outta yer gourd, Chuck if ya think I’m just gonna sit here and twiddle my thumbs while my wife’s in danger somewhere.” Wolverine slammed his fist into the table.
“Calm down, Wolverine.” Xavier said. “I don’t expect anyone to sit and twiddle their thumbs. When the opportunity arises we will of course go retrieve them…if it proves necessary.”
Wolverine snarled. “It proves necessary!”
Charles didn’t reply to the statement. “You have your orders.”


Colorado

Ow. Everything hurt.
Ororo lifted her head slowly, waves of nausea washing over her. Her arms were numb and after a moment she knew why. She was hanging inches from the floor, dangling from a silver hook in the back of an old army truck, her wrists bound over her head with what appeared to be a metallic fishing twine that was cutting her to the bone.
“Scott…?” Her voice was hoarse.
“Nnngh.”
“Scott.”
“Nnng. Mmmph.”
“Either you’re gagged or they cut out your tongue.”
“Mmm uggnn urrn?”
“Hold on.” Storm kicked with her bound feet, pushing of against the side of the truck, trying to swing with enough momentum to free herself from the hook, but only succeeding in releasing fresh rivulets of blood from her bound hands. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. Damn.
Her body jerked as the truck came to an abrupt stop. After a moment voices could be heard and the back door was dropped down and two dark silhouettes stood in the opening. “Well, lookie who’s awake.” The taller and bulkier of the two moved forward, climbing the ramp, and moving to stand directly in front of Storm. He leaned forward, sniffing her. “Mm. Ya smell nice, frail.”
Storm tilted her head, quizzically, then she smiled sweetly. “Come closer. Get a real good whiff,” she said huskily, moving her legs teasingly, catching his eye. He gazed at her leather clad, partially exposed legs with avid interest, practically salivating. She snapped her feet out, kicking him hard in the face, grunting against the pain in her wrists, busting his nose, and cracking his teeth. He should have dropped to the floor, but instead he rolled his head back up with several loud cracks and pops, growling at her.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, bitch.”
Storm nodded, panting a bit in response to the wires digging into her flesh. “All right.” She lashed out again, but he grabbed her feet, pulling against the hook, causing her to bite her lip against the raw scream threatening to erupt from her as the skin around her wrists was peeled back, the wires hitting bone.
“Toughie, huh? I’m gonna like breaking ya. Shoulda done it in Vegas.”
Storm’s mind was a haze of pain, making speech an impossibility. The truck shifted as the other man stepped forward, his red beard a rusty color in the dim light. Storm recognized him. The cook from the base in Maine.
“Hello. My name is Mr. Smith, and I’m going to ask you a few questions. I hope to find you both very cooperative.” A glint of metal caught her eye and Storm felt her breathing increase at the sight of the scalpel in his beefy hand. Goddess…

Xavier’s War Room

“They’ve stopped moving.” Warren said.
Ali uncrossed her ankles, removing her feet from the dark oak table top, leaning forward to get a better view of the map. “Where?”
Warren rotated the map. “Looks like somewhere between Colorado Springs and Pueblo.”
“We should tell the others.” Ali stood, straightening her red top. She caught Warren giving her a peculiar look. “What?”
“Uh- nothing.”
“Don’t ‘uh-nothing’ me, War. What?”
“Red’s a good color on you. Uh, not that you don‘t look good in other colors, because, because y-you do, it‘s just--”
Alison raised an eyebrow. “War, are you trying to give me a compliment.”
Warren blushed, looking away, mumbling under his breath. “I’ll go get the teams.”
“Sure.”
Warren walked from the room, folding his wings together to move through the door, his face still flushed. Alison watched him go with a slight frown. She and Warren had flirted before, nothing serious, and he’d never really paid much attention to her, or any woman for that matter, but lately he’d been acting funny around her. Especially when she was with Gambit.
She didn’t have time to speculate however, as Wolverine strode through the doors an instant after they closed behind Warren. “Where?” he demanded.
“Were you waiting in the hall?”
He grunted in the affirmative. “Where are they?”
Ali showed him on the map. “They’re here.”
“Get yer gear, kid. We’re headin’ out.”
“The Professor…”
“Fuck ‘im.”
Ali grinned. “We gonna raise a little hell?”
Wolverine’s lip curled. “And then some.”


Colorado

“Aaaaauuugggh!!”
“Stop! You’re killing him!” Storm strained against the metal rack she was now strapped to, a rack similar to the one she recalled in the room they had trapped Wolverine in, tears flooding her eyes.
“All he has to do is tell us how the X-Men locate mutants.” A slow, deliberate twist of the knife in Cyclops’s thigh.
“Aaauugh!”
“Scott!” Storm screamed with him, his pain terrible to witness. He was beaten and bloody and had already received several broken bones, and unlike Wolverine, wouldn’t heal by tomorrow. The urge to call bolts of fiery vengeance upon his tormentor was almost overwhelming, but the metal tables, close confines and the threat that if the breeze so much as switched directions he would slit Scott’s throat prevented her from doing so.
Scott panted, head lolling forward, his chin resting in the dried stains of blood and vomit on his bare chest. They’d been at this for over an hour, but it felt like a decade to him, his entire body a writhing mass of pain.
“Again, Scott?” Mr. Smith asked pleasantly.
“S-sure. Why n-not?” Scott laughed humorlessly, followed by a terrible scream as Smith drove the knife into the spot where shoulder and chest met.
“You X-Men are stupid fucks, ain’t ya?” The man referred to as Sabertooth in the Vegas MFC said, casually eating a hamburger as he watched Smith cut and maim Cyclops. He slowly put the practically raw burger down, cocking his shaggy blonde head to one side. “Mmm. Nothin’ like the smell o’ blood ta whet yer appetite.”
“How do the X-Men locate mutants?” Smith asked again, sliding a flat razor down Scott’s center, stopping just above his navel.
“We throw darts at a map. We get lucky.” Cyclops said, blood flowing from his nose into his mouth, bubbling as he talked.
“Tsk. Tsk.” Smith said. “You’re not being very cooperative.” He pulled a thin metal instrument from the table. It was long, about seven or eight inches, almost needlelike, but had a handle with a button at the end.
“Why dontchya just drug ‘em up and get the answers,” Sabertooth grunted, biting into his burger again.
Smith gave him an irritated look. “There is no art in that. What I do,” he stroked the metal in his hands lovingly, “is art. Human beings scream symphonies for me, their bodies such a sweet instrument to play.”
“Whatever, weirdo. Just hurry the fuck up.”
“Patience, Creed.” Smith turned back to Scott. “Since you are blindfolded I will tell you what I’m holding in my hand. It’s a fifteenth century torture device, used to castrate men from opposing armies.”
Cyclops stiffened, his breath hitching.
“What I’m going to do is insert this long thin piece of metal inside your penis, slowly into your urethra. Once inside I will press this little button here, injecting air into the tube and releasing several hooks into your tender flesh, then I will yank this instrument out of you.”
“You sick son of a bitch!” Storm shouted, her voice like living thunder, shaking in her rage and fear. “You touch him again, and no God in the universe will protect you from me!”
Smith gave Creed a look. “She is disturbing me.”
“D-don’t hurt h-her,” Scott said.
“Touching. Truly.” Smith nodded to Creed. “Make her scream. I bet she sounds beautiful.”
Storm strained against the bonds holding her, practically sobbing as Smith cut away Cyclops’s pants, exposing him. “Don’t you dare, you fat bastard!” she shouted, her wrists bleeding again as she struggled. “I swear I will see you die a thousand times.”
Sabertooth strolled over to where Storm lay helplessly strapped to the metal table and stood in front of her, licking his lips. “I’d be more concerned with yourself, frail, then with yer boyfriend.”
She glowered at him, wishing she could see past him to Scott.
Sabertooth growled, leaning in on her, “Don’t ignore me, bitch.“ His rank, meat smelling breath washed over her. He ran one hand up her torso, cupping one breast in his big palm. He grinned when she flinched. “Yer a hot little number, ain’t ya.”
“You get off groping tied up women, Creed? So, you can squeeze my tits, Goodie for you. You can do whatever you want, bastard, but it’s only my body. You’ll never touch the real me.”
“Wanna bet?” he clawed at her. He stopped suddenly, head tilting. “Ya hear that?”
Smith paused in his movements “No. I don’t hear anything.”
Sabertooth growled. “I do. I hear a jet.” He grabbed her face in one big hand, the claws digging into her skin, drawing blood. “Who’s comin‘?” he growled.
“Santa Clause?”
A not so gentle squeeze. “I could crush yer skull and have yer brains ooze like jelly, bitch. Who’s comin’?”
“Piss off.”
Sabertooth grinned toothily, his fangs gleaming yellow-white. “Such a feisty piece o’ meat, aintchya.” He leaned forward, licking her face. “Tasty too. I always did prefer dark meat.”
“Get away from me, you sick--”
His hand clamped over her mouth. “You really need ta learn some manners, frail.”
“Mmph ooo.”
He chuckled, a low frightening sound that made her sick with fear, but she refused to show him any, refused to give him the satisfaction.
He leaned closer, then deliberately dropped to his knees, pressing his face in her crotch and inhaling deeply. “Mmm. Sweet.” So involved with tormenting his helpless captive he forgot about the approaching jet until he heard gunfire from outside the small storage facility that was their make-shift torture chamber.
The roll up door exploded inward, smoking trails of light energy floating towards the ceiling.
“Hey, McGruff! Step the fuck off!” Ali was suddenly standing at the door, her aquamarine eyes that blazing with inner light. For a moment she looked so fierce that the occupants of the room believed the low , menacing growl accompanying her explosive entrance belonged to her. However, that growl was the only warning before a dark shape leapt into the room, silver eyes glittering and six blades of nine-inch, lethal adamantium flashing in the shadows.
Sabertooth stepped away from Storm, hunching his shoulders, saliva spraying as he growled at Wolverine. “Hiya, Runt.”
“Hey! Didn’t he kill you already?” Ali asked.
“He ain’t man enough ta kill me.” Sabertooth snarled. “I kill. Ain’t that right, Runt? I kill all you hold dear. I take it and make it mine, then I kill it.”
Wolverine growled. “Are ya crazy, fuck face? I barely know ya!”
Sabertooth laughed. “Right. I forget. They mind wiped the shit outta ya.” Cruel laughter followed his taunts. He circled behind Storm, one clawed hand wrapping around her throat, cutting off all air. “Yer taste is improving, Wolverine. I like this one.” He sniffed her hair, licking her ear.
“Fucker.” Wolverine was borderline feral.
“Nobody move, or young Scott here will be the first casualty in this exchange.”
For the first time Wolverine noticed Scott, bloody and wrecked on a table beside a man Wolverine instantly recognized, a man holding a razor to Scott’s jugular. “Smith.” he spat out.
“Nice to see you again, Wolverine,” Smith said cordially.
Wolverine lowered is shoulders, his stance coiled and ready for action. His gaze flicked between Sabertooth and Smith. “Alison,” he said quietly.
“I’m Henry the eighth I am, I am!!” Ali raised her hand over her head as she belted out the tune, lights flashing and strobing, causing Sabertooth to flinch away from the brightness and distracting Smith.
Wolverine was in motion before Ali could make sense of the commotion. He leapt, using Storm, and the table she was strapped on, to ram Sabertooth into the wall. He sliced through the leather straps holding her down and pulled her free.
“Hey, angel,” he said, kissing her quick and hard before shoving her behind him.
Instinctively Storm sent a blast of wind at Smith, tossing him away from Cyclops and across the room before she stumbled to her knees, her legs giving out from under her.
“Storm!” Ali was beside her in an instant.
“Scott,” Storm said. “Get Scott!”
Ali nodded, racing to where Cyclops was propped, his body a bloody mess of wounds and cuts. “Oh, Cyclops…” Ali brushed his brown hair away from his blindfold with shaking fingers. Her face crumpled as rage and anguish swamped her. She went to work unbuckling the leather around his torso, tears blurring her vision, making the task inordinately difficult. “Hang on, Cyke. Okay? Please, hang on.”
“Ali!” Storm called out a warning as Smith approached Alison from behind. Ali turned, grabbing one of the sharp instruments from the table, slicing at him.
Across the room Wolverine and Sabertooth rolled across the floor, savage snarls and growls coming from both men. Sabertooth landed on top, pummeling Wolverine in the face with furious speed. Blood sprayed the cement.
“That the best ya got?” Wolverine asked with a growl before three claws pierced Sabertooth’s side and he flung the larger man off of him.
Sabertooth landed on his knees, breathing labored, blood dripping between his fingers. “Don’t matter. I’ll heal. Faster than you, runt.” he was on his feet a moment later, razor claws catching Wolverine across the face, scouring deep, momentarily blinding him.
He swung blindly, claws whistling through air.
“Pathetic. Yer the prize of Weapon X? Yer what their so hot fer? Fuckin’ priceless. Ya know I almost killed ya in Vegas. Wanted ta. But orders are orders. But now, I ain’t got no orders, ’cept ta bring ya in. Dead or Alive. I prefer dead.”
“You talk to much!” Wolverine roared as he pounced, taking Sabertooth down, slicing mercilessly.
Sabertooth rolled away from him, flesh falling to the floor as he stood. “Don’t matter,” he slurred. “I’ll heal…”
“Yeah? Heal from this!” With a speed that defied description Wolverine launched from his crouched position, spinning in the air, one lone claw slicing through tendon, tissue and vertebrae, separating Sabertooth’s head from his shoulders. The blonde head bouncing twice before landing face up a few feet away from the still kneeling body. Wolverine kicked the headless torso over, making his way towards Smith and Ali.
Smith, sensing doom at his back turned quickly, dropping the scalpel he held. “I surrender,” he said.
Wolverine just kept stalking forward. He grabbed Smith by the front of his bloody apron. “My turn, Mr. Smith. I got some questions.” He slammed the large man against the table Storm had been on.
“Wolverine?” Alison and Storm were helping Cyclops towards the door.
“Go, babe. Ya don’t want ta see this,” he said quietly.
Storm saw cold fire pooling in Wolverine’s eyes and she nodded, turning away as the first claw extended, trying in vain to ignore the horrific screams echoing behind her as they made their way to the Blackbird.

Wolverine emerged several minutes later, the set of his jaw intimidating, His bloody claws retracting as he walked. The scarlet on his arms and uniform told the story of what happened in that room and Storm found herself, for the first time, frightened of the things her husband was capable of.
Inside the storage unit the decapitated body of Victor Creed laid motionless, and the disemboweled form of Joseph Smith twitched in its last moments of agonizing life. On the wall, scrawled in blood was a message for those that found them: I’m coming for you.

Xavier Institute
Boathouse


Thin ribbons of pink mixed in with the steaming water swirling down the drain as Wolverine scrubbed his chest roughly, washing away the stink of those he had killed. He hung his head forward, the hard spray sluicing through his thick ebony hair, plastering it to his scalp, his mind in turmoil with the things Smith had told him before he died. Logan gave a jerk and shake of his head, splashing water against tile and glass, barely repressing the growl of frustration he felt building in his gut. He twisted the handles of the shower, cutting off the spray and sliding the foggy glass partition open, reaching for his towel, knotting it around his waist with a quick jerk.
The house was dark, only the faint flickering of fire light dancing along the walls, making the deep wood glow with a golden hue, offered any light as he made his way down the hall. He smelled her instantly. Ororo.
'Ro's scent was different from anyone else he’d ever known. It was earth, and flowers, mixed with freshly fallen rain, tinted with a hint of vanilla and sandalwood. It was innocent and pure, compelling and distracting and it wasn’t entirely human. Xavier had told him that Farouk believed Ororo to be a genuine Goddess incarnate. Knowing her like he did, Logan believed it entirely possible.
Ororo lay curled up on their couch in front of their small fireplace, her head pillowed on her hands, her breathing deep and even, letting him know she was asleep before he saw her. She shifted a bit, the silk of her short robe sliding open to reveal the gorgeous contours of one thigh. Logan smiled down at her. He liked the way she looked; so peaceful while she slept, her long black lashes dark crescents against her sable cheeks, her full lips parted as soft breath passed, the long silken strands of her damp snow white hair hanging over the arm of the couch, nearly touching the oriental carpet, curling slightly they dried.
He bent and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he strode up the stairs to their bedroom. Instinctively she snuggled closer her lips teasing his collar bone. He groaned softly at her touch, his blood thickening and pooling in his groin. He gently settled her on the center of their bed, her blue eyes blinking open. “Hey, darlin’.” he said softly, stroking his thumb across her cheek.
“Hey,” she whispered, her voice still rusty from screaming and sleep. She rubbed her knuckles down the side of his face, her smile tender. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
“Don’t be. Ya’ve had a helluva day.”
Ororo was quiet for a moment, her light eyes darkening slightly. “It could have been worse.”
Logan knew her thoughts were on Scott, who at last check in was in stable condition, but was still in surgery having several bones reset and internal bleeding stopped. He lifted her hands in his, his gaze on the white bandages wrapped around her wrists. He felt an angry tic begin in his jaw as he remembered seeing her bound to a metal slab, Sabertooth sniffing at her like a dog in heat. He turned her hand, kissing her knuckles, his tongue flicking out to lick at her. Ororo shuddered, his touch both sexy and intimately tender. “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner, darlin’.”
“Logan, it’s not your duty to pull my butt out of the fire every time I get in trouble.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, ‘Ro, it is.” He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. “Yer my wife.”
She closed her eyes. “Mmm. I do like the sound of that.” When she reopened her eyes she found his gaze suddenly hot, dark and intense. Ororo ran one hand through her semi-dry hair, the action lifting her breasts against her light pink satin and silk robe.
“Do ya now?” Logan rumbled, his fingers moving along her thighs, massaging tense muscles.
“Yes,” Ororo breathed, her entire body tingling at his touch.
“Yer the only thing that matters ta me, ‘Ro. It’s my job ta protect and cherish ya, ta keep ya safe and happy.” His dark eyes burned into her blue ones.
“Oh, Logan…” She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, circling his neck with her arms. “The things that you had to do because of me…I’m so sorry.”
He was a bit taken aback by her soft words and he tensed. “Don’t blame yerself fer the deaths of the fuckers that kidnapped you and Cyke, darlin’. Death was no less than what they deserved.” He tilted her chin up. “It bothered ya, what I did ta them,” he said gravely.
Ororo nodded. “Yes.”
Logan felt his gut clench. “I tried ta tell ya, ‘Ro, I’m a killer, it’s what I’m good at. It’s the only thing that I’m good for.”
He tried to pull away from her, but she restrained him gently. “No, it’s not.” She touched his face with one hand, lightly dancing her fingertips along his jaw, and over his mouth. He reacted unconsciously, nipping her fingers, pulling her index finger between his teeth, brushing it with his tongue, making her gasp with surprised pleasure. His now black eyes smoldered at her, a blatantly sexual look. “Killin’ and fuckin’, then,” he corrected.
Ororo tilted her head to the side, a small smile playing with her lips. “Is that what we do?” She moved to her knees, sitting in front of him. “We…fuck?” She let the word fall between them on a husky whisper.
He remembered how hurt he’d been the night she had tried to turn the beautiful act of them joining together into that vulgar term. “No.” he growled.
“No,” she agreed. “We are two halves of one soul, Logan. The things you are capable of, are indeed frightening.” His gaze flicked away and she caught his jaw in her hand, turning him back to her. “But I am not frightened of you.” She explained. “It only frightens me because I know it eats at you. You pretend not to care, not to feel, but I know that each death weighs on you.”
Logan sighed. She really was so innocent. No, the deaths didn’t weigh on him. He’d spill their blood and gut them again, a hundred times if necessary, without a second thought. They didn’t matter to him. Their lives were worthless to him. He was a cold and ruthless killer, but his beautiful wife refused to see that about him, and a part of him prayed, to whatever deity still listened to the prayers of soulless killers, that she never would.
Deciding he no longer wished to speak of death and killing, he bent his head, nibbling on her neck. “Take off yer robe, angel. I want ta feel ya against me. I’m so hot and hard fer ya, I think I’m gonna explode.” He moved his mouth up to her ear where he rumbled, “I need ta taste ya, wet and wild and hot fer me.”
Ororo’s body thrummed to life at his gruff admission. She loved him like this, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman that existed on the planet, the way his breathing hitched in his chest as she disrobed, the way his eyes got impossibly dark.
“Lie back, baby. Grab the headboard, sweetheart. Don’t let go.”
Ororo did as he requested, her heart pounding in her chest. She wrapped her finger around the curve of their headboard, completely stretched out before him.
Logan tossed his towel aside, revealing that he was already hard and thick, aching for her. “Open yer legs fer me.”
Obeying Ororo slid her legs across the comforter in a slow, sensual glide, her insides clenching as she watched his reaction. His jaw hardened, his breath hammering out of him now, his upper lip curled slightly back, revealing flashes of white. “Tell me what ya want,” he demanded, his voice thick with lust.
“I want you to touch me, Logan.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip, desire making her tingle. “I need you to touch me.”
He leaned forward, his hands traveling up her thighs, stroking her smooth skin. His fingers teased her damp curls, making her hips arch. “Don’t let go of the headboard, love,” he said, flashing her a devilish grin. He watched her intently as he slid one finger into her velvet sheath, stroking until her core was hot and wet. He pushed deeper, enjoying her gasps of pleasure. “I know yer tired, baby. You just lay back and let me make ya feel good.” He withdrew his finger, licking her juices from his hand.
“Logan,” she moaned, the sound of rain pattering on the windows filled the room.
He smiled, lowering his head to where his hand had been only moments ago. “Just feel,” he rumbled, then his mouth clamped on her, his tongue stroking her inner folds. He probed deeply, then withdrawing slowly, again and again, making her mindless with pleasure. He loved the way she tasted, like ambrosia. Hot and sweet and spicy and natural. She writhed under his torment, her hips bucking against his mouth, making him grin wolfishly. He felt her orgasm coming and he lifted his head to watch her, stroking it out of her with the head of his engorged cock. “That’s it, angel. Come fer me.”
Unable to hold back a minute more Logan thrust his hard, aching shaft deep inside her moist passage. “Ahhh, hell,” he groaned, her inner walls clenching him tightly. Home. That was the feeling he got being inside of ‘Ro. It was like coming home. Where he belonged.
His movements were long, hard strokes, driving deeper and deeper into her with each one, friction and tension mounting. He felt the endless pressure of her muscles locking around him, blinding him with ecstasy, his body driven to heights of pleasure he had never imagined. She released the headboard, wrapping herself completely around him, locking her legs around his back, lifting into each thrust. “Christ, ‘Ro!” He roared as he came, white hot bliss spiraling through him as he pumped furiously, emptying himself, heart and soul into her sanctuary.
Ororo was exhausted, unable to even lift her head, feeling the delicious ripples of her body, still locked tight around Logan. He rested his head in the groove between her neck and shoulder, breathing her in, smiling as he felt her slowly loosen her hold, her arms falling limply at her sides.
Logan nuzzled her, unwilling to move from his resting place, holding her close, never wanting to let her go. His mouth found hers, his tongue dancing, teasing, probing deeply, loving her, reassuring himself that she was home and safe. “I wish I was different fer ya,” he whispered.
Ororo shook her head, her eyes passionate. “I only want you as you are.” She blinked again, her eyelids heavy with satisfied exhaustion.
He found her mouth again tenderly. “Let’s get some sleep,” he murmured. He didn’t bother with the blankets, since she never got cold and he rarely did. He rolled, pulling her with him so that she was sprawled across his chest. She cuddled as close as she could, a smile on her face as she drifted to sleep once again.
“You’ll always be safe,” he vowed quietly. He would make certain of it. She was a strong fighter, a solid leader and a mutant with powers beyond anything he’d ever seen before, yet he couldn’t shake the need to protect her. It wasn’t a want, or a male macho thing. It was a physical need, to know she was safe, to hold her, to love her. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, he was sure of that. He cherished her. He bent his head, brushing soft kisses along her brow, stroking his hand along the smooth curve of her spine. He ached for her. Even after just having her, his body even now feeling the aftershocks of a release that was mind-blowing, he still ached for her. She was too good for the likes of him. She put the needs of others above her own needs, she sought only to defend and protect. She was compassion and he was a predator, a hunter, a killer.
She nuzzled him in her sleep and his entire body went taut, his arms circling her fiercely. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He would never get used to the fact that she chose him, that she loved him. He closed his eyes, inhaling her unique scent, thinking how she saw only the good in him, hadn’t condemned him even though he knew she had been afraid of what she had witnessed today, and more afraid of what she hadn’t. After what he had done to her, she more than anyone had reason to fear him, but she didn’t. She gave herself to him, loved him, and tried to protect him. He was humbled by that.
He curled against her protectively, falling to sleep with the love of his life in his arms.
~~~
The soothing scent incense reached his nostrils. He slowly opened his eyes. He was seated on the floor, legs crossed, wearing a black kimono. The room he was in was small and bare. Only his ornately decorated, curved blade lay before him on the floor.
“Logan-san?”
He turned towards the voice. Soft and sweet, gentle and demure. In the open doorway she stood, black hair piled neatly on her head, large comb holding it in place, the beads making small noises as she moved. She glided towards him slowly, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped in front of her. He rose as she approached.
Frail. Enchanting. Refined.
“Mariko.” She takes the breath right out of his lungs. She lifts dark eyes to his, a slight smile on her lovely face. Gentle, demure, porcelain. She was so fragile, so delicate, broken so easily. He cupped her face gently in his palm. “I’ve missed ya,” he whispered.
“And I you,” she replied. “Will you be staying?” Her voice is tentative, as if uncertain she wishes to hear the response.
Warmth. Longing. Affection.
He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her, his heart beat echoing in his mind. “Yes, M’iko. I’ll stay with you. Always.”
“I am glad, my husband.”
~~~

Logan stirred. As dreams went he’d had far more nightmarish, but few that left him with the terrifyingly unsettled feeling this one left him with.
Logan stretched, his fingers absently finding the silken strands of Ororo’s hair. She smiled softly at his touch, even deep asleep responding to him. Gently he extracted himself from the bed, standing quietly beside her for a moment. For the first time in his life he was indecisive. He wanted to wake her and talk to her about his dream, tell him about Wraith’s claim he had a wife somewhere, but then again he didn’t. He padded across the floor, opening the window, lifting his head to inhale the night air. The wind carried a multitude of scents on it. Rabbit, deer, fox and human.
He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping wife. God, he loved her. He couldn’t lose her. Needing some space he leapt from the second story window, landing noiselessly on the balls of his feet. He moved easily, unhurried, a creature of the night, his muscles rippling with power and strength. He could hear the sounds of the night, the insects flitting in the air, the water of the lake lapping the pebbled shore, the snap of twigs as forest creatures skittered as he approached. Wolverine scented the wind, following his instincts, running naked through the forest behind the estate, leaping over branches, kicking himself off tree trunks, becoming one with the night.
But no matter how hard, or how fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the hazy remnants of his dream. He had been in Japan, of that he was certain. The woman in the dream had referred to him as her husband. She had been so elegantly refined, quiet, shy even. Beautiful, too. He crouched beside a tree, breathing heavy, sweat glistening in the moonlight over his broad shoulders. He grimaced. The woman in the dream most certainly didn’t seem the type to appreciate this feral side of him. Who was she? Was she really a long forgotten wife? Was she still waiting for him? Was she even alive?
“Logan?”
He turned, looking up. Ororo hovered behind him, buoyed by her winds, her pale hair dancing around her bare shoulders. She was just as naked as he was and his white teeth gleamed a predator’s smile “Run with me?” he growled.
Immediately Ororo dropped to the ground, her eyes dancing into his. She was thrilled by this. Whatever was bothering him wasn’t making him turn away from her, or push her away. Instead he beckoned her into his world, a realm of night and shadows, of predator and prey. As soon as her feet touched soft brown earth she ran, racing through the dense vegetation, Wolverine ran beside her, close and protective. Ororo had never felt such excitement, the wind sang through the trees, the night itself calling her, stirring her blood. She felt wild, no longer human. Absolutely free. She ran fast, swerving in and out of the trees, leaping over brush. Wolverine kept pace alongside her, occasionally reaching out and touching her as if he needed the contact, or tot turn her in a direction he wanted to go.
After awhile he began to nudge her back the way they came, back towards their home. Ororo laughed happily, earning a flash of white from him. “Race you,” she challenged, breaking into a sprint. He overtook her easily, catching her about the waist and swinging her around. She laughed helplessly as she tumbled to the ground, sheltered by his strong arms. She was pressed against his chest, leaning over him with his arms locked around her waist when they stopped rolling in the damp grass. She shivered as he pulled her down for his ravenous kiss. Wolverine brought forth something untamed and wild within her, a wild nature that rivaled his own. In all of her twenty-three years nothing had ever made her feel the way she felt when she was with him.
She leaned back from him, and felt a rush of liquid heat flow through her at the sight of him. Goddess, he was a wild thing, uninhibited and so completely sensuous. So male. So very carnal. Ororo felt herself go weak with need. She belonged with him. “I love you,” she whispered.
Without a word he rolled, parting her thighs and sliding into her in one sinuous movement. He said her name on a growl, softly teasing her ear with his lips.
Her body was still thrumming from the thrill of racing in the woods and she was undone almost instantly, moving wickedly against him, moaning his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over her.
Logan grunted, cupping her tight backside in his hands, driving into her. He bit her shoulder, drawing blood, growling as he came. Fuck. He had wanted it to last, but with her clutching him, her pleasured tremors squeezing him, it was impossible.
He gathered her in his arms.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested as he walked towards the house.
“Hush.” he said with a rumble. He carried her back upstairs to their bed, this time settling her under the covers, slipping in beside her. She was asleep almost instantly and he smiled into her hair.
Logan lay awake for a long time, watching through the bedroom window as the dawn crept forward. He instinctively pulled Ororo closer. Morning. How he hated morning. When he became Wolverine and she became Storm and the weight of the world settled upon them once again.
His wife slid one hand along his chest, curling her fingers into the crisp hairs covering him. She mumbled something, incoherent, but he caught the words love and Logan and he felt his heart kick. He looked around their room, at the pictures on the wall, the painting of Ororo that Peter had done for her birthday, a beautiful piece of work, Logan admired. In the portrait ‘Ro was soaring in the clouds, a long diaphanous gown molded to her legs, her hair fanned out behind her. It captured the free spirit that was Ororo. Along that same wall were several pictures of him and her together, and a few of the team together. On the nightstand sat a couple of books, one open, facedown. The sounds of the boathouse settling creaked through the dim early morning and Logan smiled. Domesticated. He had thought that marriage would make him domesticated, tame him a bit. He bunched his fingers in Ororo‘s hair. If anything, he’d become more feral, more animal. She brought out something dark and dangerous in him, his animal instinct to mate and protect. She was his life. Nothing else mattered but her. Nothing.

Xavier Institute
Headmaster’s Office
Mid-Morning


“Unacceptable.” Charles Xavier said with a scowl, pointing his index finger at Alison and Wolverine. “I gave specific orders that were meant to be followed.”
“Yeah, well yer orders sucked.” Wolverine snarled from where he stood, leaning against the wall on one shoulder, arms crossed in front of his black cotton clad chest.
“It is not part of your job to question my orders, Wolverine. It is your job to follow them. There were specific reasons I ordered you all to stay out of it, and now I‘ll be spending a majority of my morning explaining to General Fury why members of my school defied my orders and ultimately ruined a S.H.I.E.L.D priority one operation.”
Wolverine grunted. “If Fury gives ya lip, ya tell him ta come see me, and we’ll discuss who has priority when it comes ta my wife.”
Ali stepped forward. “Look--”
“As for you , Alison,” Xavier fixed her with a hard stare. “You have been suspended and reprimanded more times than I care to count. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t expel you from the school right now.”
Ali lowered her head, strands of dark hair concealing her eyes, unable to think of anything to say in her defense.
“Ali goes, I go.” Wolverine said, surprising both Xavier and Alison. Ali gave him a curious look, but said nothing.
Xavier frowned slightly. “Team loyalty is not something I have come to expect from you, Wolverine.”
Wolverine shrugged. It had nothing to do with teams or the X-Men. He owed Ali, she was Storm’s best friend and staunchest supporter. No way he was letting Xavier take that away from ‘Ro. “I’m just full o’ surprises.”
Xavier nodded. “So it seems.”
“If we hadn’t gone, Cyclops could be dead right now,” Alison said.
Xavier leaned back in his chair. “That is your only saving grace. You are both suspended from active duty for the next thirty days as a reminder that you are part of a team, not independent agents.” He picked up the phone on his desk. “Good day.”
Ali and Wolverine stalked out of the office, both muttering under their breaths. In the hall Wolverine turned to Ali. “Beer.”
“Definitely.”

Med lab

Storm strolled into the recovery room where Scott lay, a concerned look on her face. She was dressed in her favorite jeans and half shirt, her arms wrapped to her elbows where the wires had sliced her open. “You been here all night?” she asked Jean, who was seated beside the bed, holding one of Scott’s hands, tear tracks on her pale cheeks.
Jean nodded, running her free hand wearily through her red hair. “I couldn’t leave him,” she whispered.
Storm handed Jean a cup of coffee. “Thought you might need this.”
“Thanks.” Jean took the mug with one hand, her other still clasped firmly to Scott’s.
Storm slid the wheeled stool at the foot of the bed up towards the head, on the opposite side of Scott than Jean. “How’s he doing?”
Jean smiled a little. “He’s stable. Hank expects a full recovery…eventually.”
Storm nodded, remembering the sickening sounds of bones breaking and Scott’s tortured screams. She shivered involuntarily reaching out to brush a lock of brown hair from Scott’s forehead.
“I saw you,” Jean began before her throat clogged.
Storm looked up. “You saw me?”
Jean nodded, fresh tears shimmering in her emerald eyes. “In his mind. You wouldn’t leave him.”
Storm shook her head. “Of course not.”
Jean snorted, a tear splashing her and Scott’s joined hands. “That’s not an ‘of course not’ for many people, Storm. You saved his life. Thank you.”
Storm remembered the blood and the screams again, thinking to herself that Cyclops may not thank her for it. She nodded, silent, watching Scott’s chest rise and fall, wishing she had been able to do more than watch as he was cut and maimed in front of her, his bones broken ruthlessly, his body ravaged horribly. Smith. Ororo closed her eyes, picturing the sick smile the man wore the entire time Scott screamed. Whatever Wolverine had done to him, it had been too kind.
“Why don’t you go shower and change, Jean. I’ll stay with him.”
Jean looked reluctant.
“I’ll leave myself open, Jean. If he wakes you’ll know.”
“Thanks.” Jean knew how difficult it was for Storm to leave her mind unguarded, she had spent most of her life trying to prevent one of the most powerful telepath’s in the world from getting in. She kissed Scott gently on his cheek before slowly making her way from the Med lab.
Once Jean was gone Ororo picked up Scott’s hand. Cyclops may be an arrogant prick but he had shown her what he was made of, not caving into the pain and even at its most brutal his thoughts had been to protect her and the other X-Men. “I’m sorry I was so stubborn on the stakeout. If we had left sooner…” She lowered her head. “I’m so sorry, Scott.” He groaned in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Jean returned fifteen minutes later, her hair still wet from her shower.
Ororo stood, heading for the door. “I’ll be back later,” she told Jean.
“Okay. Storm?” Jean called after her.
“Yes?”
“It wasn’t your fault.”


Kitchen

“Unfuckinbelievable,” Alison grumbled, slamming her beer onto the small table her and Wolverine were seated at angrily. “We fly to Colofreakinrado, to rescue--rescue!--our teammates and we get benched for the effort?” She snorted. “Priceless. Y’know I think Cueball’s losing his grip on reality.”
Wolverine grunted.
“Well said,” Alison lifted her bottle in salute.
The double doors to the kitchen swung open and Warren strolled in looking like a blond Adonis, his hair shimmering in the sunlight. “Good morning,” he greeted.
“’Sup.” Ali returned.
Warren paused. “Are you drinking?”
“Naw, Fly boy, she’s playing Parcheesi.” Wolverine moved to open the fridge, pulling out two more bottles. “What‘s it to ya?”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“So, we started late,” Wolverine said, popping the cap off his beer with a solitary claw and retaking the chair across from Ali.
“You could get in serious trouble, Ali,” Warren said moving to Alison’s side.
“Not really giving a shit right now, War. But thanks for the concern.” Ali patted his arm.
Warren caught her hand in his. “Ali--”
“Der you be, petite. Gambit be lookin’ everywhere for you.” Gambit strode through the still swinging doors, a dark look on his handsome face. “I been searchin’ all over da mansion for you, Ali.”
“Well, you found me,” Ali said with a half smile, taking another drink from her long necked bottle.
Gambit’s red on black gaze flicked over Warren. It wasn’t a friendly look. Wolverine sat forward, his interest peaked. There was some definite tension running between the Cajun and the Angel.
“C’mon, Ali.” Gambit held his hand out for her. “Let’s go for a walk, oui?”
Ali smiled widely. “Oui.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around Gambit’s neck. “A walk sounds nice, Yummy.”
Gambit bent his head, his lips claiming hers in a searing kiss, uncaring that they had an audience. Or maybe, caring very much who was watching, Wolverine considered. Warren stormed from the kitchen, slamming the doors so hard they slapped the walls.
“What’s up with , Winger?” Ali asked, looking at the doors.
“Don’ matter, chere.” Gambit ran his thumb over her moist lower lip. “All dat matter is you and me.” He cast Wolverine a glance. “Where’s Stormy?”
“She went ta check on Cyclops.” Wolverine leaned his chair back, watching Gambit carefully. The taller man seemed edgy, almost anxious.
“Could you tell ‘er dat I need ta talk t’ ‘er?”
Wolverine nodded, taking a swig from his beer, his dark eyes contemplative.
Gambit ushered Alison from the room, one arm locked securely around her waist, his head bent close to hers. Wolverine knew the stance well, it was both protective and possessive. Whatever was going on with Gumbo, one thing was obvious, the man had it bad for Alison.
“Wolvie!”
Wolverine couldn’t prevent his smile at the sound of Jubilee’s voice. She burst through the doors, and immediately Wolverine sat up, his smile turning into a scowl. Jubilee was wearing a pair of short cutoffs and a blue and yellow tankini top with sandals and shades, but it wasn’t her appearance that caught Wolverine’s attention, it was the boy hovering behind Jubilee, practically drooling.
“Drake,” he growled, standing.
“Uh-hey, man.” Bobby said, his familiar cock-sure smile making Wolverine want to punch him in the face. He had seen how Bobby had toyed with Kitty’s emotions, how he’d played on his good looks and popularity to flirt with her until she had broken things off with Kurt, only to have Bobby give her the cold shoulder when she was single.
Jubilee plopped herself at the table. “Hey, Bobby, could you get me a soda?” she asked sweetly.
“Sure thing.” Bobby practically jumped to the fridge.
Jubilee snapped her gum, pushing her sunglasses back through her short, dark hair. “What’s got you so grumpy?” she asked Wolverine.
“I ain’t grumpy,” he said.
“Right, and is the sky purple in your world?”
“Don’t get mouthy, kid.”
“Aww, sorry, muffin,” she gave him a goofy grin.
“Muffin?” Wolverine raised one dark eyebrow. “Careful, kiddo. I may let Storm get away with that, but not you.”
“Get away with what?” Storm sauntered into the kitchen, she smiled at Wolverine.
“Calling Grumpy-buns here muffin.” Jubilee popped the top on the can of soda Bobby handed her, taking a large drink, belching indelicately afterwards.
“You’ve been spending way to much time with Ali,” Wolverine grumbled getting to his feet. “Hey, darlin’.” He wrapped one arm across Storm’s shoulders as she approached, noticing how sad her eyes looked even with her smile.
“Hey.” She brushed his lips with her own, needing the contact. “How did the meeting with Charles go?” A low rumbling from Wolverine was her only response. “That good, huh?”
*Storm.*
“Speak of the devil,” she said aloud so Wolverine would know Xavier was in her head. “Charles.”
*My office please.*
“On my way.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Looks like we’ll have to catch up later.” They hadn’t seen each other since early in the morning, both having a lot to do.
“Looks like.” He gave her a swat on the rear as she walked away, earning himself a micro shower directly over his head. “Nice, darlin’. Real nice.” he said in mock anger. He turned with a snarl at Bobby’s laughter. “And just what’re ya grinning about, snowflake? C’mon, Jubilee, let’s take a stroll,” Wolverine yanked her out of her seat, flashing Bobby his teeth when the boy would’ve followed.

Loft

Gambit kicked the door shut behind them as he practically threw Ali into the bedroom, his eyes glowing faintly in his passion. He pulled his snug black tee over his head, tossing it across the room, uncaring where it landed. “I wan’ you so bad,” he rasped, pulling Ali to him, yanking her clothes off hurriedly.
“Remy?” Ali was all for aggressive sex, but this was different, Gambit’s movements were almost desperate.
“Don’ talk,” he said covering her mouth with his, his tongue sliding past her lips, hugging her close. “Jus’ let me love you, Ali.” He cradled her hips, holding her tight as he rubbed himself against her, making her gasp. Remy’s lips moved across her chin, down her neck, across her bare shoulders, down her tattooed arms, until he reached her hands where he kissed and sucked each finger. He kneeled before her, pulling her against him, his face pressed against her stomach, his arms wrapped tight around her. His breathing was labored, erratic…afraid.
Ali cradled his head in her arms, concern touching her aquamarine eyes. She webbed her fingers through his thick hair, whispering how much she loved him.
Gambit raised his head taking in the sight of her. Merde. She was unlike anyone he’d ever known. Her dark locks falling in wild disarray around her smooth peaches and cream face, her light eyes glittering down at him, her lips rosy from his kisses. She was damn adorable. A dark elf. Standing a little over 5’3” Ali was small, but powerful, with a slender frame, and delicate features that made her tough demeanor seem so much more endearing and intimidating all at once.
Slowly Gambit slid his hands along her thighs, his fingers edging under the skinny elastic of her red lace panties, sliding them down her well shaped legs. He groaned at the sight of her nakedness. “Je t’aime, ma petite bella.” He parted her legs insistently, kissing her in her most secret place, making her fingers bunch in his hair and her to gasp his name. Lovingly Gambit slid his mouth along her heated flesh, flicking his tongue against her, holding her hips as she moved against his face.
Alison surprised him, shoving him away from her. At his questioning look she smiled her imp smile. “Relax and trust me.” She pressed kisses along his chest, brushing his copper colored nipples with her tongue, moving down his well sculpted abdomen. Gambit jerked when he felt her breath stirring the hairs around his throbbing cock. Slowly, reverently Ali took him into her moist mouth, her tongue ring rubbing against the underside of him as she sucked, making him mad with pleasure. “Ali…Ali, fuck, my God…Uhhhnn…Alison. Merde.”
Ali shuddered, her entire being focused on the delicious sensations she was giving Remy with her tongue. She grunted in surprise when he lifted her and tossed her onto the bed, following her closely, his naked body pressing against hers. He lifted her legs around his hips, surging into her tight, wet core, groaning against her mouth. “Remy!” Ali climaxed as he entered her, screaming his name, her nails raking his back.
Gambit thrust into her, over and over, deeper and faster, desperate to lose himself in her. He cradled her head, kissing her fiercely, molding her to him, surging and rolling his hips. “You’re so tight and wet,” he groaned. “So wet.” He was shaking, trying to stave off his orgasm, wanting to watch her face again as she found fulfillment in his arms. She was his and only his. For all her worldly ways and tough as nails attitude Ali had been a virgin, with Gambit as her first. And last, he thought a bit angrily. No one was coming between him and Ali.
“Etienne,” she was frantic beneath him, panting as he brought her to the edge of her second orgasm.
“I’m ‘ere, bebe.” Gambit laced his fingers with hers. Pinning them above her head, rocking against her. “J’adore.” He licked her ear, teasing it with his warm breath, nipping it with his teeth. “You make dis Cajun crazy, chere. You’re da only one.”
“Oh, Oh my…” Ali pressed her heels into the firm tightness of his buttocks, arching against him, her mouth open as she cried out, light dancing overhead as she came.
Ali felt Gambit shaking, felt his shudders as he climaxed with her, buried deep inside, holding her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “I love you too, Remy,” she assured him as he whispered the endearment over and over in broken English and French.
“Forever, chere?”
She gave him a puzzled look. Forever was not something her and Gambit spoke of. They lived in the here and now. Two of a kind, energetic and carefree. She brushed her lips against his. “What’s wrong, Rem?”
He stroked her cheek. “Is it so ’ard t’ say da words, ma petite? Forever?”
Ali shrugged, “Not hard to say, no.” She eyed him speculatively briefly, and Gambit refused to meet her gaze head on. Feeling uncertain Ali pulled away from him. “I should go clean up.” She rolled from the bed, pulling the top sheet with her, wrapping it around her so that it trailed her as she went into the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind her she sank onto the edge of the bathtub, running one hand through her wild hair. Something felt amiss. She loved Gambit, loved everything about the Cajun charmer, but he was acting odd. He was the one who had told her that tomorrow was tomorrow, that today was all that mattered. So, why the forever? The desperate feeling she got from him? What had changed? She stood, running the water, splashing her face.
In the bedroom Gambit watched the closed bathroom door with dark eyes. He sat up, pulling open the drawer in the bed stand, reaching for his cigarettes. He inhaled deeply, letting the white cloud out on a slow breath. He heard the shower start and sighed. He had caught her off guard, he knew, but he had been unable to help himself. The idea of losing Alison made him physically ill. He took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes flashing red even in the light.

Xavier’s office

“Define ‘suspended’,” Storm said, her voice like ice.
Charles steepled his fingers, resting them against his chin. “It means no active duty for thirty days. They can train with the team, they can participate in meetings, but no active assignments.”
“Why? Because they risked their necks to save me and Scott?” Storm stood, hands planting on the desk in front of her.
“No. Because they defied a direct order, Storm. The X-Men are a team. What Alison and Wolverine did, should it go unpunished would only encourage that type of behavior from the other, less experienced students. It’s a behavior I can not condone and as Black squad team leader, you shouldn‘t either.”
Storm huffed, knowing that he was right, but hating to admit it, so she remained stoically silent. “What else?”
Charles was silent for a moment. “Being a leader means having to deal with issues and…complications, that often skew perception, without allowing them to do so. I have the utmost faith in you as a capable leader, Storm, which is why I feel you should know that I will be transferring leadership of Red squad over to you as well for the duration of Cyclops’s recovery.”
“Is there no one on his team capable of running it?”
“Jean or Beast would be the next most qualified, but Jean is an emotional wreck and though Henry is highly intelligent, his leadership skills are not where I need them to be to run a smooth team.” Xavier took out a small electronic device. “This was Scott’s schedule and planner. Take a look at it, and see if you can work out a training schedule for both teams.”
Storm took the PDA. “Anything else?’
Charles smiled at her brusque tone. “Yes. Could you give this to Wolverine. I believe he will find the contents useful.” He handed her a sealed manila envelope.
Storm took the envelope, feeling a small object sliding around within it. “What is it?”
“A piece of his past I believe.” Xavier nodded at her. “You are dismissed.”

Pool

Jubilee laid back in the lounge chair, sipping her iced tea and watching Bobby dive from the high dive. He sure was cute, she thought with a wider smile.
“Cut it out.” Wolverine growled at her. “Yer too damn young.”
Jubilee gave him a disgruntled look. “Who made you my Pappy?”
“I did. Now shut yer yap and listen to Pappy Logan.” He opened another beer, seemingly oblivious to the open mouthed look she was giving him. “What?” he asked grouchily when she continued to stare.
“You…you just told me your name,” she whispered.
Wolverine paused for a second, cocking his head. “So I did. Huh.” He rustled her hair. “Don’t tell nobody.” he growled in pseudo threat.
Jubilee grinned so big he could make out all of her teeth. Without warning she threw herself into his arms, resting her face against his bare chest, nearly knocking him out of his lounger. She pulled herself back hurriedly, straightening her glasses and replacing her grin with a semi serious expression, trying her damndest to look nonchalant. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
Wolverine chuckled drinking his brew.
“Mind if I join you?” Betsy Braddock strolled along the side of the pool, her lithe form clad in a very skimpy bikini, her high, firm breasts nearly spilling out of the dark purple top. She lowered the see-through sarong tied around her waist and took the chair beside Wolverine.
Wolverine grunted, his eyes flicking over her with male appreciation. Jubilee elbowed him in the side. “Married, remember?” she hissed at him.
Wolverine scowled at his dark haired sidekick, rubbing the spot she hit. “I remember.” he growled. Jubilee was nuts if she thought Bets had anything on ‘Ro.
“I could use some help with this sun block.” Betsy held out a bottle of Coppertone.
“Try wearin’ clothes. You tend not to burn as much,” Jubilee said with snap of her bubblegum and an angry frown.
Betsy ignored her. “Give me a hand, Wolverine?”
“Sure, Bets.” He took the bottle from her, squeezing a liberal amount onto his hands, rubbing it into Betsy’s back and shoulders.
“Mmm…You have great hands.” Betsy gave a soft moan, leaning forward and moving her hair to the side. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“I tell him that all the time.”
Wolverine turned, flashing Ororo a wolfish smile that froze on his face at the sight of her in her swimsuit. Goddamn, his wife was fucking hot. She stood, clad in a soft pink two piece, barefoot with one hand on her hip, looking at him through dark shades, one silver eyebrow raised above the rims. Her mane of snow colored hair hung loose down her back and her deep caramel skin shimmered in the sun. Wolverine finished up Betsy’s shoulders, wiped his hands on his black shorts and pulled Storm into his arms. “Wife.”
“Mm. So you remembered you have one?” she teased.
For a moment Logan’s eyes left hers, and a subtle tension filled his body. He shook himself and ran his hands along her back. “How was yer meeting?”
“Ugh. Let’s not talk shop this afternoon.”
“Fine by me.” Wolverine sat, pulling her down onto his lap.
“Hi, Betsy,” Ororo greeted.
“Storm.” Betsy rolled onto her stomach, closing her eyes.
“Hey there, Jubes,” Ororo said with a smile.
“Hiya, Strom.” Jubilee grinned. “Don’t worry, I was keeping him in line.”
Storm lifted her glasses and winked at Jubilee. “Much appreciated.”
Wolverine nuzzled the back of Storm’s neck. “I missed ya,” he whispered.
Ororo leaned back into him, holding his arms as the circled her waist. “I can tell,” she whispered back. She reached down alongside the chair to where she dropped her bag. “Charles gave me this to give to you.” She handed him the envelope.
Without thinking Wolverine sliced it open, a gold band falling onto the ground, tinking against the cement. Ororo bent to retrieve it, frowning as she recognized it as a wedding ring. She held it out to him, questions written all over her face.

Xavier Institute
Boathouse


Ororo sat quietly, her eyes following her husband as he paced the living room carpet, running one hand through his wild hair. He had just finished filling her in on everything that Xavier had told him, and his recent dreams. “Well,” he prodded. “say something.”
“What would you like me to say, Logan?” Ororo tilted her head, fighting the urge to smile at his consternation. He looked really ruffled.
Logan stopped directly in front of her, crouching and grabbing her hands in his, his thumb absently stroking the wedding band around her finger. “This doesn’t change anything, ‘Ro. Yer still my wife.” He cradled he jaw. “My only.”
“I know.”
“So I don’t want ta hear--” He paused. “You know?”
She nodded. “Logan, how many times do we have to go over this? For better or worse? Death do us part? Yadda yadda…?” she waved her hand vaguely. “Honestly, sometimes I think they fused your brain with adamantium as well.”
“Yer taking this rather well.”
“What did you expect? Screaming? Wailing? I was there the day Wraith told you that you’d been married before. He had his friggin’ arm wrapped around my neck, he was right in my ear.” She kissed the palm against her cheek. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Through it all, Logan, even this. I am slightly miffed that you wanted to keep this from me, but I can understand why.”
Logan was silent for a minute watching her. She didn’t seem upset, he couldn’t smell it on her, didn‘t feel it. She was relaxed and smiling at him, her blue eyes shimmering with tenderness and love. “I don’t deserve ya,” he rumbled quietly and very sincerely.
Ororo‘s face became pseudo serious. “I know.”
Logan tugged on her hands, yanking her from the couch into his lap with a playful growl. He cupped her ass in his hands, rolling his hips up into hers, bringing forth tiny sounds of pleasure from his sexy wife. “Ya amaze me, ‘Ro.”
“I try,” she teased. She circled his neck with her arms laughing down at him, letting him know without words that they were strong, secure.
He shifted her so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, his erection rubbing against her through his shorts and her bathing suit. She licked her lips and he groaned. -SNIKT- Her top and bottoms were cut off with hurried flicks of Logan’s wrists.
“You’re always slicing my clothes off,” she said breathlessly.
“Then stop wearin’ the damn things,” he growled. He lifted her so that he could remove his trunks, kicking them away and pulling her back onto his lap, bending his head to suckle her breast, and just that easy she was hot and wet and eager for him. He did such wicked things with his tongue, making her wild for him. Slowly she lowered herself onto his thick erection.
“Oh, yeah, that’s it, baby,” his breath hissed from his lungs. He framed her hips, pulling her down on him. “Arch yer back. That’s it. Ride me, darlin’, nice and slow.”
She leaned back, turning her face towards his and slowly slid herself up and down on him.
“Yer so beautiful.” Logan gasped the words, constantly amazed at how perfect she was, how undeniably exotic and erotic she was. She was so uninhibited with him, free to be herself, showing him how much she wanted him, showing him her heart.
She looked at him through smoky eyes. “You make me feel beautiful.” Ororo controlled the pace, moving slowly, unhurried, taking him deep and rocking against him, then lifting until she was almost free and sinking back down. His groans and moans were music to her ears. She felt power coursing through her, lightening singing in her veins, fire racing along her skin where his mouth journeyed.
Logan grunted as Ororo picked up her rhythm, her hands pressing into his shoulders, her lips locked to his, their tongues dueling in a wet fray. He felt her inner walls clenching him and he surged up to meet her downward momentum. He gripped her hips, driving into her, feeling her coming apart in his arms, her cries of release trapped between their lips. He felt her slick juices spill from her body, coating him and he growled, low and deep and sexually charged. He rolled her back, holding her head in his hands, thrusting into her, his hips pounding furiously now as his own orgasm approached. Ororo tore her mouth away from his and bit his shoulder, drawing blood, her nails scoring his back. “Fuck!!” Wolverine exploded, his canines piercing her smooth skin as he clamped onto her neck, his orgasm slamming from him. His entire body convulsed and jerked, endlessly it seemed, the room going white then exploding in colors. “Jesus, ‘Ro.” Slowly his hips stopped moving, but he didn’t withdraw from her. Their hearts hammered together in synchronous rhythm, their breathing labored and erratic.
Her sultry, breathless laugh tickled his ear. “If this thing between us gets any stronger, we may not survive.”
Logan lifted his head from the hollow of her throat. “I’ll die a happy man,” he said brushing her lips tenderly.
“Mmm.” Ororo hugged him tight, wrapping her entire body around his.
Their phone was ringing.
“Ignore it,” Logan grumbled, licking her collar bone.
“It could be Jean,” Ororo said. “I told her to call if Scott woke up.”
Reluctantly Logan rolled off of her, allowing her to go to the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Stormy.”
“Hi, Ali.”
“Um, if you two are finished, could you make the rain stop, you’re killing the BBQ.”
Storm glanced out the window, noticing the rain pouring from the sky, a smile on her face. “Sorry.” Instantly the clouds dissipated and the sun lit the afternoon sky, a rainbow shimmering over the Institute.
“Nice touch. You guys on your way up?”
“We’ll be a little late.” Ororo said, noticing the heated look Logan was giving her as she stood naked in the kitchen.
Ali laughed and hung up the phone.
Logan stretched with animal grace, his smile darkly sensual. “C’mere.”
Ororo felt her insides melt. The man was insatiable and she was only too happy to fulfill his every need. She walked towards him slowly, her eyes locked with his. She stopped a few feet away from him. “Tell me what you want,” she asked huskily.
“You.” he growled.
“How?”
Logan leaped to his feet, stalking her. “Everyway.”
Ororo smiled as his strong arms encircled her. “We’re going to miss the barbeque,” she murmured.
“Don’t care,” he said, nuzzling her neck, his days growth rasping against her, making her moan. She loved how very…male, he was. All thought left her as he turned her and pressed her against the wall, moving his hand along her spine, slipping between her thighs and stroking her. “So hot. So wet.” he growled, pressing against her, the tip of his cock sliding in and out of her, teasing.
“Logan,” she cried out.
“Tell me,” he rumbled, rubbing her.
“I want you inside.”
He bit her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yes!” she hissed, curving against him.
Logan needed no further urging, thrusting into her in one smooth motion, cupping her breasts in his hands, balancing on the balls of his feet as he moved.
“Goddess,” Ororo cried out, bending at the waist and wrapping her hands around her ankles.
Logan grinned. The hours her and Gumbo spent in the gym with their acrobatics and flexibility training were very beneficial indeed.

Later

Ororo crossed her legs under her terry cloth robe, leaning over the papers in front of her. On the table was a copy of a marriage certificate, the gold wedding band, an army record and a few old photographs. Logan came up behind her, kissing the exposed nape of her neck, inhaling her freshly cleansed scent. He pulled the towel wrapped atop her head off, running his fingers through her damp tendrils.
“How long you gonna stare at those?” he asked quietly.
“Until it starts making sense.” Ororo tousled her hair. “According to this, you’re like eighty years old.”
Logan took the chair beside her and turned it, straddling it with his arms resting on the back. “Give or take,” he agreed. “Maybe older. Chuck thinks my healin’ factor keeps me from aging like a normal person.”
Ororo nodded. “Makes sense.” She flipped the army record over. “James Howlett.” She picked up the ring. Inscribed on the inner circle of the band was a message: To James with all my love. Ororo gave him a slanted look. “James?”
“Apparently.”
She was quiet.
Logan reached out and tucked silver strands behind her ear. “Hey. I’m still Logan.” he said gently.
“James, Logan, Wolverine.” She listed his names, silently wondering how many others he had. “What do I call you?”
“Husband.” he said firmly. “The name doesn’t matter, ‘Ro, so long as I know I’m yours.”
Ororo’s lower lip trembled. She touched his face reverently. “My Logan.”
He felt his breath leave him in a rush. He had hoped she would chose that name. That was who he was with her. Logan. Her Logan. Her mate. James was dead, as far as he was concerned, and Wolverine was who he was at work. But in his dream Mariko had called him Logan-san. So he had been with her after he had lost James? He frowned.
“What is it?”
“In my dream. Mariko called me Logan-san.”
Ororo flipped through the limited military papers Xavier had so far been able to acquire. “What was her last name again?”
“Yashida.”
Ororo halted briefly, then left the table, taking the stairs up to their room.
“Ororo?” Logan called from the foot of the stairs.
She reappeared a moment later, Scott’s PDA in her hand. “Catch me.” She leapt from the top of the stairs, using her powers to slow her descent. Logan caught her in his arms, holding her tight, kissing her thoroughly.
“What’s that?” he asked, slowly lifting his head, gesturing to the PDA in her hand.
“It’s Scott’s.” She turned it on. “You can put me down now.”
“I could.” Logan sat down on steps, still holding her. “But I won’t.”
Ororo scanned the list of contacts. “Here.” She turned the screen so that Logan could see it. “Shiro Yashida, a mutant from Japan, codenamed: Sunfire.”
Logan was surprised, but uncharacteristically cautious. “It could be a dead-end, darlin’. It’s not like there’s only one Yashida family-- Where are you going?” Ororo had scooted from his lap, making her way back into the kitchen.
“I’m calling Shiro Yashida.” Ororo picked up the phone.
Logan was beside her instantly, his hand closed around her wrist as she dialed. “No.”
“Why not?”
Logan gently wrested the phone from her and put it back on the wall. “I…” he floundered. “Just not now.”
Ororo hugged him. “It’s okay.” She stroked his back. “When you’re ready.”

Xavier Institute


“Hi, Ali!” Kitty smiled, bouncing over to where Ali was lounging on the leather couch, bag of potato chips on her lap, one booted foot propped on the table in front of her.
“Howdy, Kit-Kat,” Ali greeted as Kitty entered the rec room.
“Everything all set for tomorrow?”
Ali nodded. “Yep.”
“Wolverine’s gonna flip.”
“That’s the idea.”
Kitty plopped down beside Alison, her pony tail bobbing. “It went by so fast!”
Alison was silent.
“You ok?”
“Hunky-dorey.” Ali stood, handing the bag of chips to the younger girl. “I’ll catch ya later, Kitty. I gotta get some air.”
*BAMF*
“Where’s Alison going?” Kurt asked, his eyes glowing from his teleportation. “I had hoped to talk to her.”
“Dunno.” Kitty said with a shrug. “What are you up to tonight? Going out with Amanda?”
Kurt looked away. “Nein.”
Kitty sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Amanda and I are no longer together.”
Kitty frowned. If that witch had hurt Kurt, there would be sooo much hell to pay! Like she had room to talk, she mentally scolded herself. She had hurt him first and callously. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked.
Kurt shook his head. “Not much to talk about.”
“I’m sorry,” Kitty said lamely.
“For what? You didn’t break us up.”
Kitty stood. “For everything, Kurt.” She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I’m sorry that you’re hurting now. Maybe if you talk to her…”
Kurt gave another shake of his head. “You misunderstand, Kitty. Amanda did not end things. I did.”
Kitty was surprised. “What? Why?”
Kurt gave her a steady look that made her knees tremble. “I could not pledge my heart to her when it still beat for another.” *BAMF*
Kitty collapsed to the couch, her heart hammering. “Dang.”

Courtyard

Ali kicked the gravel at her feet. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with Gambit and it bothered her. She should be thrilled that he was so attentive, and part of her was, but it was the underlying desperation she felt from him that bothered her. His fear. Was he in trouble? Was he sick? That thought made her clutch her stomach. She’d die if anything happened to her Yummy.
“Nice night.”
Ali looked over her shoulder to see Warren gliding towards her. “Hey, War.”
Warren landed a few feet away from her. “You look down.”
“When don’t I?” Ali said with a shrug. “It’s part of my shtick. Punker, y’know.”
“I thought Punker’s were supposed to look pissed and Goth’s were supposed to look depressed.” Warren said with a half smile.
“War, you pay attention to music-types?” Ali teased.
Warren stepped in front of her. “I pay attention to a lot of things, Alison.”
There was no mistaking the gleam of attraction in his eye or the subtle shift in his tone. “Oh. Uh, hey, Warren. You’re gorgeous as all get out, but…”
“But you are taken?”
“Very.” Ali confirmed. “And not your type.”
Warren stretched his wings. “And what ‘type’ is that?”
“You know. Pompass, rich, groomed, supermodel gorgeous--”
“You are gorgeous,” he interrupted. “Deserving to be loved by someone worthy of you.”
Ali took a step back. “War. You’re my friend, and I’d like to keep it like that, but you start talking shit about Gambit and that ends. We clear?”
Warren nodded, his jaw tight. “I’m sorry.” He flapped his wings and took off. Something about the way he said the words was unsettling. Like he meant so much more than apologizing for hitting on her. Damn. Was everyone going to confuse her?
“Ali!” Gambit’s smooth drawl reached her. She turned in time to see him leap from their balcony and stride towards her, his gaze moving between her and the retreating Warren. “What’d ‘e want?” he demanded. “What’d ‘e say t’you?” He gripped her arm tightly.
“Nothing. He just saw me walking and said hi. What’s wrong with you?” she yanked her arm away, rubbing where his fingertips had pressed.
Gambit exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, chere.” He pulled her gently back into his arms. Even though he was a full foot taller than her she molded to him like she was made for him. She was, he thought. His. He lowered his mouth to hers, lingering over her lips, sliding his tongue across the seam of her mouth, begging for entry. Ali moaned, leaning into him, allowing him in. Gambit pulled her tighter against him, and Alison could feel the tremors running through his body.
“Rem, please, what‘s wrong?” She stepped back, touching his face.
“I’m wit’ you, bella. What could be wrong?” He kissed her again, searing her lips with his, wiping any further thought from her mind. “Come, chere. Let me take you t’ bed and show you ‘ow much Gambit love you.” He held her close. “You love me, Ali?”
Ali stared into his red on black eyes questioningly. “I love you, Rem. Nothing will ever change that.” she said, confused by his uncertainty. Gambit was the most charmingly overconfident man she knew. No way was Warren upsetting him this much.
“Come wit’ me, chere,” he was tugging her towards the mansion.
Ali followed, her light eyes dark with questions.

Later
Boathouse

Logan pressed soft kisses along Ororo’s neck, teasing her ear. “It’s midnight,” he growled, waking her.
“Mmm…” Ororo angled her head, giving him better access to her smooth skin.
“Happy Anniversary,” he rasped, pulling her up from the bed, caressing her exposed flesh.
Ororo’s breath escaped in a long gasp as he descended on her, skin to skin, his frame sheltering hers. She felt the long, hard, thick length of him against her thigh and her heart skipped a beat. Bright Lady, he drove her mad.
Logan nudged her thighs apart with his knee, pressing his sensitive velvet tip against her heated entrance. Almost at once he was bathed in her creamy moisture and he had to forcibly refrain himself from shoving himself into her to the hilt. Instead he captured her mouth in a slow kiss as he eased himself inside of her. His breathing turned ragged as he was enclosed in her tight, fiery sheath. Fuck. She felt so goddamn good. He grit his teeth against the ecstasy of having her wrapped tightly around him, buried in her where he belonged.
Ororo moved restlessly beneath him, mindless, needy. Logan framed her face with his hands, his gray eyes molten silver in the night. “Yer my everything,” he groaned.
She whispered his name so quietly even he had a hard time to hear it, but he didn’t miss the tender ache that accompanied the sound. He kissed the corner of her mouth, flicking his tongue against her lips. She rotated her hips beneath him and he gasped. Vixen. She called a wildness in him, a part of himself that was hers and hers alone. His teeth nipped a path down her throat, along her chest, latching onto one chocolate nipple, sucking it into his mouth.
“Logan,” she writhed under his tender assault.
He lifted his head, capturing her blue gaze with his silver one. “When ya look at me, it’s like ya can see right into my soul,” he groaned, sliding in and out of her slowly. He gathered her hips in his hands, withdrew completely then surged forward filling her, completing her. Ororo felt tears sting her eyes. Ororo clung to him as he surged into her over and over with deep sure strokes, the tension building the pleasure intensifying. He was her strength, her anchor in the raging storm inside of herself. He was taking her beyond anything they had done before, her mind chaotic with the pleasure he was bringing her with his deliberate thrusts, with his frenzied kisses and with his haunting words of love in her ear. She pressed her face to his, holding him to her. He felt her tears, tasted their saline, kissed them from her face, licked them from her chin. He claimed her mouth, fed on her, both lost in the love and lust and the animal passion they were creating together.
Ororo heard herself cry his name as she fragmented, thousands of pieces of herself shattering into the wind, her body quivering around his, waves of fire crashing over her, the feelings so forceful and deep they bordered on pain.
Logan pulled her tighter against him, hammering into her. “I need ya, ‘Roro,” his voice was erotic and dark in her ear. “I need ya.”
Ororo couldn’t speak, rendered mute by his hard possession, by the friction still thrumming through her body as he delved deeper and deeper into her, each stroke more powerful than the last. Her tongue swirled over his sweat dampened skin, lapping at him. She felt his immediate reaction, the hard arousal buried in her swelling even more. Goddess. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
Logan crushed her to him, his body hot and hard and immersed in her fiery heat, deep inside to the point where he felt he was drowning in pure ecstasy. White-hot lightening flashed outside and the crack of thunder that followed shook the house. He threw his head back, his eyes blazing at her with possession and love. He took her harder, her sheath tightening as she approached another orgasm. She was whimpering against his shoulder, her body shaking in pleasure. He swore as he felt her tighten around him, milking him as he erupted, spilling his seed deep within her, crying out her name on a hoarse roar.
Ororo lay stunned, her body pleasantly sated, tingling as erotic little aftershocks chased their way through her system. She reached up and traced his mouth with her fingertips. “I could stay like this forever,” she whispered.
“Mm. Too bad I got other ideas,” he growled.
Ororo gasped as her trailed his hand along her flat stomach, her skin still overly sensitized from their recent lovemaking. He bent his head, his tongue lapping her nipple.
“Logan…?” She clutched his hair convulsively.
“I want you again, ‘Ro.”
“That’s not…” She was about to say possible when she felt him stirring back to life, still buried deep inside of her. He slid out of her slowly and caught her hips in his hands, gently turning her onto her stomach. He traced his lips down the flawless curve of her back, taking his time, moving slow and deliberate. He was pressing against her as he kissed her, the hard head of him teasing the cleft between her buttocks, causing her to wiggle against him, panting in her need for him.
“Be still,” he scolded, his teeth finding the swell of one cheek, biting in subtle warning. He was going to take his time, love her slowly, and thoroughly. He caressed her with his palm, opening her for him as he pressed himself back into her tight entrance. God. He grit his teeth. He cupped her breasts easing her back into him, his mouth tasting her back, her shoulders, her nape. Her long snow colored hair cascaded across the pillows, pooling around them and it was a sight he knew he’d never forget.
“More,” she demanded throatily, and Logan lost himself in the fire. He growled, gripping her hips and plunging into her, hard and fast, making her cry out for release from his torment. He bent over her, completely dominating her, thrusting to the hilt, his teeth finding the hollow of her shoulder, pinning her beneath him as he took her, both exploding together, so enraptured one couldn’t say where they ended and the other began.
Logan rolled from her, pulling her with him so that they lay spooned together, his arm wrapped protectively and possessively around her waist. He kissed her shoulder where he had broken the skin and he felt her smile.
“Like I said earlier…one of us is going to end up dead,” Ororo laughed.
“Yeah, but what a way ta go,” Logan chuckled.

Xavier Institute
Early Morning

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, embracing in it‘s warm rays the dark brown boathouse beside the lake, the morning light reflecting off the glass, shimmering and dancing.
Logan awoke slowly, stretching lazily, his chest brushing against the back of the angel laying next to him. Instantly he felt the surge of heat through his body. Ororo. His wife. His only.
They had spent all of yesterday celebrating their one year anniversary. It had been a fantastic day full of surprises and romance for each other. He had woken her with breakfast in bed and she had surprised him with a card. Later, he had led her along a white rose petal trail, laid out by Jubilee, to a gazebo set up by Peter and Kurt by the lake, where everyone had been waiting for them, and much to Ororo’s delight, Scott included.
Logan had pulled her out onto the lawn and in front of everyone he knelt in front of her. “I’ve done some bad things in my life, darlin’, traveled some dark roads. But now I have you as my light, and I want ta do this right, babe. Not some hurried Vegas ceremony, but right. With our friends and family present. So, Ororo N’Dare Munroe will you marry me? Again?” He opened the black box in his hand, holding a platinum and diamond inlaid band up for her.
Ororo had blinked back tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “Always, yes!”
Logan surged to his feet, swinging her around in his arms.
The ceremony was charming, with Ororo and Logan in the center of the gazebo, a hired Justice presiding. Cheers and applause broke out as Logan dipped her over his arm, kissing her soundly before the words “You may kiss your bride” had even left the Justice’s mouth.
“I love ya, ‘Ro.” he’d said into her lips.
“And I love you, Logan.” she’d replied.
Ororo had a surprise of her own for Logan and while they were strolling the courtyard a large delivery truck had arrived. She had grabbed his hand and tugged him towards it. The back of the delivery truck opened up and the most beautiful bike Logan had ever seen was rolled down the ramp. “’Ro?”
“I know how much you missed the bike you left in California, so I contacted Forge and had him make you a one of a kind. Happy Anniversary.”
Logan was speechless. The machine was sleek and powerful, black and chrome with traces of electric blue. They had departed immediately for a ride and hadn’t returned until much later. Ororo had been flushed from both the ride and his stop at their secluded spot where he had proceeded to ravish her under the warm afternoon sun.
Looking at her now Logan couldn’t believe how blessed he was to have her in his life, to have her tied to him for always. His.
Without thought his hands and mouth roamed her body, touching and tasting. He was very familiar with every inch of her skin, knew every hollow, knew every ticklish spot, and every place that made her moan. He moved lower, trailing his mouth across her stomach, and lower still. She still smelled of the bubble bath she had taken after their last bought of lovemaking and he grinned. Ororo liked to be clean. He pushed the sheets past her hip, wanting to taste her, wanting her to awaken with his head buried between her magnificent thighs, in the troughs of erotic pleasure that only he could bring her.
She was hot and sweet like flowing nectar, so soft and warm he wanted to crawl inside her. Logan knew the moment Ororo awoke, knew the second she realized what he was doing to her. “Logan!” she cried out his name in a voice still groggy with sleep and breathless with passion; he was absolutely certain it was the most exciting sound he’d ever heard. Her body moved against his mouth, restless and needy, burning for him. Only him. She cried out again, her hands clutching at his hair, trying to yank him up to her so that she could feel him, hot and inside of her.
Logan gave her one last swirl of his tongue before blanketing her body with his, and sliding into her in one smooth velvety stroke. She gasped, clasping to him like a living vine, riding the firestorm raging between them. She nuzzled his chest, helplessly whimpering as he drove into her again and again. “God, angel,” he groaned. “I need ya so much.” His voice held a plea in it that was darkly enticing and unbearably romantic.
“I’m yours,” she said on a breathless moan.
His gaze smoldered down at her, dark and dangerous. There was stark possessiveness in his feral eyes, and hunger and desire and love. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of ya,” he warned, lifting her hips against him as he reared back. They both tensed and fragmented, coming together in a raging whirlwind of emotion and need. Ororo screamed his name and Logan felt himself smile in male satisfaction. Mine.

Later

Ororo nestled on the couch, her favorite fluffy robe tied securely about her waist, her bunny slippers tapping against the cushions as she sat reading the newspaper, her body deliciously tender from Logan’s endless possession. All night he had been both tender and wild, gentle and untamed. His eyes never lost their hungry glow, always reflecting raw lust and need when he looked at her. It had certainly been an anniversary to remember. Ororo gave a soft laugh. Goddess, she was becoming aroused just thinking about him.
“’Ro. I’m about two seconds away from draggin’ yer sweet ass back upstairs and keeping ya occupied fer the rest of the day,” Logan warned from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast.
Ororo laughed throatily and she heard Logan slam the pan onto the stove. With a threatening growl he swung himself over the bar separating the two rooms, rushing into the living room. Ororo laughed, tossing the throw pillows from the couch at him and let out a high pitched squeal as he leapt at her. She evaded, rolling off the couch and swinging another pillow, she felt a satisfying ‘whump’ as it connected with his head.
“Ye’ll pay fer that,” he said with snarl. Ororo screamed as he jumped across the back of the couch, tipping it over and charging her. She took off down the hall, laughing so hard she couldn’t see. She felt his strong arms wrap around her waist and he hauled her back into the house just seconds after she had pushed her way out the back screen door. He gently pinned her to the ground, holding her wrists locked together in one hand as he straddled her chest. “Beg fer mercy,” he commanded.
“Never!” she defied.
“Witch!” He proceeded to tickle her unmercifully, making her wiggle and scream.
“Logan! Ahhh! Stop!” Tears leaked from her eyes, her breath coming in pants between gales of laughter. “Stop!”
“Stormy!!” Gambit burst through the front door, three glowing cards in hand, a look of dark retribution in his face.
“Remy!” Ororo tilted her head back from her position on the floor, blowing strands of silken snow from her face.
“Doorbell broken, Gumbo?” Wolverine asked dryly, releasing Ororo’s wrists and helping her to her feet. She swatted his arm playfully, and he pinched her rear.
“I t’ought dat Stormy was…never mind.” The cards fizzled and he gave them a sheepish grin. “Smells good in ‘ere.” He took a deep breath, removing his coat and sitting at the table. “What’s for breakfast, homme?”
“Southern fried Cajun.” -SNIKT-
“Omelets.” Ororo interjected. She leaned into Logan, kissing him on his cheek. “I’m going to shower and get dressed. You boys behave.”
Once Ororo was out of the room and Logan heard the shower running, he turned to Gambit. “Where’s Ali?”
“Here.” Alison stepped through the front door. In her arms was a large bouquet of white flowers, lilies and roses and orchids. All of which Ali had saved from the gazebo decorations and put together for Ororo. “Where’s Storm?”
“She’s in the shower,” Logan said.
Alison nodded, laying the flowers on the table beside their empty plates. “I need a vase.” Logan opened the cupboard under the sink, pulling out one of ‘Ro’s crystal prism vases, hading the thick container to Alison. She arranged the flowers, adding water when they were just right. “Perfect,” she said with a satisfied smile.
“Wolvie!” Jubilee strolled into the boathouse unannounced, carrying a small walkman. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Looks like eggs, pancakes and bacon Jubes.” Ali said, making her way into the kitchen and bumping Logan aside with her hips so that she could reach the coffee maker.
For a moment Gambit was arrested by Ali in the morning light, the sun causing hints of red to burn in her dark hair, her ocean eyes dancing with mischief, her rosy mouth quirked at the sides. She was dressed in her usual off the shoulder tank and dark pants attire, her hair wild and spiky around her head, but he’d never seen anyone so beautifully feminine before.
“Gambit?” She caught him staring.
He shook himself. “Jus’ t’inkin’, petite.”
“That explains the drool,” Jubilee said pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and taking a seat. “What happened to the couch?”
Ali gave the tipped over piece of furniture a look. “Looks like Storm and Wolverine had one of their wrestling matches again.”
Jubilee gave Ali an incredulous look. She turned to Wolverine. “You’re so weird,” she said.
Logan hefted the couch upright again. “This comin’ from the kid with permanent marker stains on her arms from where she doodles on herself?”
“Well, you won’t take me to get a tattoo,” she complained.
Ali glanced at Jubes over her shoulder. “I’ll take ya.”
Wolverine grumbled at her. “Like hell ya will, Alison.”
“So grumpy in the morning.” Ali winked at him pouring herself a cup of coffee. “I think I’ll take this outside. Holler when breakfast is ready.”
“Since when am I feedin’ the whole damn institute?”
“Your not, just a few friends.” Ali smiled as she pushed her way out the front door.
Gambit watched her leave, an ache in his heart.
Wolverine watched silently, strolling back into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of the fresh coffee. There was something bothering Gumbo, he could smell the tension on him, almost taste it.
“Knock. Knock.” Betsy Braddock opened the door. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Bets.” Wolverine greeted by way of grunt.
“Is Storm around?”
“Getting dressed. Why?” He watched Betsy through hooded eyes.
“I was hoping to get some sparring in this morning.” She let her dark robe fall open, revealing the form fitting ninja suit underneath.
Jubilee snorted. “I think I just lost my appetite.”
Wolverine gave her a reproachful look. Jubilee shrugged pulling her headphones onto her head and ignoring them.
“Not today.” Wolverine said. “Storm’s got plans.”
“Oh?”
“Maybe the Cajun here can give ya a workout.” Wolverine indicated a surprisingly silent Gambit.
“Well?” Betsy asked, tilting her head and flashing Gambit a sultry smile. “You want to come work me out?”
Wolverine raised a brow, not missing the way she worded the question. He was all for powerful women with healthy sex drives, but Bets exuded it like her own personal perfume. She was sexy and deadly and smart and seductive, all of which made her a great lay and a lethal adversary.
“Non.” Gambit snapped. He shouldered past the dark haired beauty without so much as an excuse me and went onto the porch with Ali, wrapping his arms around her from behind and whispering something decidedly naughty in her ear.
Betsy watched him go, her eyes narrowing a bit.
Wolverine smirked. “Not used to being turned down, Bets?”
She ignored his comment. “Tell Storm I stopped by,” she said coldly and was gone, the door banging shut behind her.
“She’s a piece of work,” Jubilee muttered.
Wolverine sat across from her. “Why don’t ya like Bets? She’s alright.”
“I dunno. She just reminds me of the cat who got the cream, or with the cream, or wants the cream…I don’t know some kind of cat and cream analogy.” Jubilee said with a shrug. “She’s too…”
“Blatantly sexual?” Ororo descended the staircase, taking Wolverine’s breath from his throat. She smiled at his expression. She was wearing a simple white dress with spaghetti straps, the material drooping in the front to reveal a modest view of her ample cleavage, the hem floating around her ankles. It complimented her dark skin perfectly, moving on her like it was made specifically for her. She wore the bracelet he had given her and his old cowboy hat. “Betsy’s not bad, Jubilee. She’s just uninhibited. It’s one of the things I like most about her.”
“Yeah, right. Uninhibited. Is that a nice way to say loose?”
“Jubilee.” Wolverine rumbled. He stood from the table, prowling towards Storm with an appreciative gleam in his eye.
“I take it you like my new dress?” she asked when he continued to stare.
“Darlin’, you do like ta drive a man crazy,” he said reaching her and pulling her into his arms.
“Are those for me?” She asked over his shoulder as he hugged her, noticing the display of beautiful flowers on the table.
“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck, pulling her hips into his.
Ororo gasped softly. “You’re gonna slice up my new dress, aren’t you?” she whispered in his ear.
“Yes.” He kissed her. “But not now. We got company.” The way he said it implied he was less than thrilled, but the twinkle in his eye told her that he was content.
“Hey Storm,” Ali called from outside.
Ororo pushed open the door, stepping into the warm sunshine on the porch. The person greeting her as she stepped out caused an excited gasp to come from her. “Scott!” She stepped forward kissing him on his cheek. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey.” He was leaning heavily on crutches, Jean right beside him, her face alight with both delight and concern. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“I am so happy you’re here,” she said sincerely.
Logan stepped onto the porch behind ‘Ro. “Scott. Jean.”
“Would you care to join us for breakfast?” Ororo asked.
“Wolverine?” Scott questioned.
“There’s plenty.” he confirmed.
“Then yeah. I could go for some real food.”
At the table conversation was easy and light. Jean commented on what a lovely ceremony they’d had the other day.
“I still like the Vegas ceremony better,” Ali said reaching for the salt.
“Ha. Do you even remember the Vegas ceremony?” Ororo teased.
“Bits and pieces,” Ali defended laughingly.
“That was such a nice surprise,” Ororo said, caressing the new ring on her finger. The original gold band was now around her neck on a chain.
Ali nodded. “Who knew your hubby was such a romantic.”
Ororo laughed. She knew. She twined her fingers around his under the table.
“This is really good,” Jean said, chewing her eggs.
“Wolvie’s a great cook,” Jubilee said with some authority. More often than not she ate her supper with Ororo and Logan and he was often the cook. Storm had told her it relaxed him, and he enjoyed doing it. “You should try his ‘grows hair on yer balls’ southern steak and potatoes.”
Scott raised one eyebrow over his ruby sunglasses. “Really?”
“Mmhm.” Jubilee smiled. “It must work. Look at how hairy the man is.” She grinned at Logan. He leveled her a gray eyed stare. She shoved a forkful of pancake into her mouth.
Scott grimaced, leaning to the right. Jean was immediately there, holding his hand. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” He sat a bit stiffer in the chair a scowl on his still bruised face.
“Jean, quit babying the man,” Logan said. “Scooter’s soft enough as it is.”
Ororo gave Logan a look beneath veiled lashes. He squeezed her fingers reassuringly under the table.
Wolverine gave Cyclops a brief once over. The boy was beaten and bruised, in definite need of recuperation, but alive and recovering. Scott was a proud man and wouldn’t like being catered to.
“Pass me the syrup, Fearless,” Ororo said. There was a wealth of affection in the nickname, a bond had forged between her and Scott during the their capture, and it would not be easily broken. As the small jar of maple syrup, hand tapped from Logan during a trip to Vermont passed between them an incessant beeping pierced the air.
*X-Men!*
“That’s us!” Ororo stood, kissing Logan on the mouth. “Thanks for breakfast. Gambit and Jean, let’s go.”
Logan stood as if to follow before remembering he and Ali were suspended from active duty. He growled watching as the three of them rushed out the front door.
“This blows.” Ali grumbled shoving her plate away.


Austria

“Damn!” Ororo rolled across the ground, narrowly evading several whistling bullets aimed at her from snipers along the walls of a semi collapsed building. “Beast!” she called.
Hank swung from a lamp post, his agility and speed amazing given the sheer size of him. He pulled Storm to her feet, hefting her over his shoulder and flipping out of the way of a grenade explosion.
“I do not believe the natives are thrilled with our munificent assistance.”
“It would appear not,” she confirmed.
She and her teams had arrived minutes ago in hopes to diffuse a brewing altercation between a group of mutants and an angry crowd of volatile mutant-haters. Negotiation was not an option, as the crowd opened fire on sight of the Blackbird and not only did they now have to deal with the mad-on mutant haters, but the mutants they had been attempting to save had apparently been looking forward to the fight and were a bit pissed at the X-Men for crashing their party.
“Beast, get as many innocent civilians as you can clear.”
“Your wish is my command,” he kissed her hand.
“Why Henry McCoy if I wasn’t a married woman!” she smiled at him as he loped away. “Jean, can you locate Kurt?” Storm asked into her comm.
“Wherever he is he’s out because I can’t reach him via mind link.”
“Iceman. Status.”
“Uhm, we’re still getting shot at! Colossus can’t hold ‘em off much longer. Crimeney! That was almost my face. I like my face! They almost shot me in the face!”
“We aren’t leaving without my Crawler, guys, so find him!” Chips of brick fell into her eyes as the wall behind her was pinged with bullets.
“Padnat!” She was hit by Gambit, rolling her across the dirt. “You need t’ be more careful, chere.” He scolded yanking her to her feet and running away from the bullets spraying the street.
“Incoming!!” Jean hollered over the comm.
Ororo and Gambit looked up to see a small car hurtling through the air directly at them. Storm gave an angry wave of her arm, flinging the car away with a blast of hurricane force winds. They avoided several more attacks, the minutes ticking by like hours.
“Storm.”
“Peter?”
“We found Kurt.”
“Thank the Goddess--Ugh!” She was hit in the chest by a high powered bullet.
“Stormy!! Merde.” Gambit drug her in between two buildings. “Storm!!” He was frantically trying to see her wound.
“R-Remy. Be quiet.” Ororo panted sitting up. “The stuff that these uniforms are made from makes Kevlar look like Jello. I’m fine, just winded.” She crouched low, scouring the street for signs of her team. “Marvel Girl. Location?”
“Hovering about half a mile away from you.”
Storm pressed her hand to her bruised chest. “Do a fly by.” she said. “Low and fast and loud.”
Gambit whipped out another deck of cards, tossing the cardboard onto the ground. Ororo gave him a look and he grumblingly picked it up and shoved it in his trench coat pocket. “In da middle of a damn war zone an’ you wanna worry ‘bout litter.”
“Storm!” Too late the warning came and Ororo felt the walls surrounding her collapsing. No! She shoved Gambit away from her as the rubble closed around her, blocking out the sky and surrounding her in tight darkness.

Austria

“STORM!!” Gambit bellowed, terror stricken as piles of stone fell upon his sister, dust clouding the air. Without delay he began sifting through the rubble, pulling stones away and tossing them over his shoulder. “Stormy! Answer me, padnat!”
“Gambit what happened?” Jean came over the comm-link.
“A fuckin’ building’ jus’ fell on Stormy’s ‘ead! I need Colossus!” He clawed at the huge pile in front of him. “Please, God, not Stormy,” he prayed aloud.
“Die Mutie!” A man rushed Gambit, gun in hand.
Gambit whirled, eyes blazing, throwing a glowing handful of debris in his attackers face. The man fell back screaming as the charged rocks exploded, embedding small fragments into his skin and eyes. “I’m blind!” the man screamed.
“Gambit!” Jean again a sharp reprimand in her voice.
“’E’s lucky I don’ kill ‘im,” he snapped. “Where’s da tin man?”
“Behind you.” Colossus stepped forward, heaving some of the larger debris out of the way. “Storm is under here?”
“Oui.”
Both men were silent, pulling at the remains of the collapsed building, knowing the odds of finding her unharmed were slim. Gambit didn’t care, so long as he found her alive. A picture of him pulling a lifeless Storm from the debris flashed in his mind and he nearly stopped breathing. No. That wasn’t going to happen. Thunder rumbled overhead. Good. That meant she was alive. Scared, but alive.

Xavier Institute
Danger Room

Wolverine roared, metal claws slicing through his opponents, spilling virtual blood all over the Danger Room floor. He paused, lifting his head and sniffing the air. Something didn’t feel right. He rotated his shoulders, a growl forming in his throat. Suddenly everything felt wrong, like the world had shifted and he couldn’t find his bearings. “End Program,” he growled. The lights flickered on and the room changed from the Canadian wilderness back into the stark gray and silver circle meant to train and improve the X-Men.
Even as the room returned to normal Wolverine’s feeling of unease increased until he broke out into a cold sweat. He pulled off his torn top, making his way towards the exit. He needed a shower and a beer. Maybe then he’d feel better, but somehow he doubted it.

Loft

Alison unlocked her’s and Gambit’s bedroom door, stretching her arms over her head. She was beat, Rem had kept her up all night, pleasantly so, but she was still tired. She kicked off her unlaced commando boots and pulled off her green fatigues, crawling along the large bed in her tank and black thongs. She yawned, blinking heavy eyes. She pulled Gambit’s pillow to her, breathing in his spicy, male scent. She loved him. Loved him more than she cared to admit. His name brought a smile to her face, his essence sang in her heart. She fell asleep humming a Cajun lullaby that Gambit had taught her.

Austria

Flames shot up around the two men digging through the debris left by the collapsed buildings, desperate to reach their leader. Another bottle full of kerosene and stuffed with a flaming rag arced overhead. Colossus swatted it away, fire dancing along his arms for a brief instant.
“Stormy! If you can ‘ear me, we could use some rain, chere.” Gambit hollered. The echo of thunder overhead was the only response, and as much as he wanted to believe it was Storm, Gambit was beginning to think that the storm brewing overhead may be nature’s concoction and not his padnat’s.
“I’m on my way!” Iceman skated through the area, blanketing them and the flames with ice and slush. The slide behind him was demolished by a grenade explosion.
“Bobby, get down!” Kitty cried over the link.
“Hey, relax, Kitty! I got this all und--” Bobby went soaring through the air as another grenade exploded.
*BAMF*
Kurt caught Iceman around the waist taking the brunt of a hard impact to the unforgiving ground. “Got him.”
“That save was dead brilliant, Nightcrawler!” Kitty exclaimed.
“Danke, Shadowcat.” Kurt glanced over his shoulder at the approaching crowd. They were carrying sticks and torches, a sight unfortunately all too familiar for Kurt. He curled his lip, revealing stark white fangs against deep midnight blue fur to the approaching mob, hoping for once his demon appearance would be terrifying enough to buy the others some time.
“Gotchya.” Kitty’s hands closed over his and Bobby’s shoulders, “Hold your breath,” she warned phazing them through the ground.
Gambit was becoming despondent. They’d been digging for what felt like forever and no sign of Storm. “C’mon, Stormy! I know you, chere. Der no way a pile of rocks gonna take you out, non?”
Underneath the tons of rubble, trapped in a small hole Storm stirred. She spit out a mouthful of dirt, struggling to focus. Her head throbbed. She blinked her eyes trying to sit up, only to realize she couldn’t. She could barely move at all. She was trapped. Her breathing became instantly erratic, her eyes glowing white in the dark. Nononononononononononononononononono….
Lightening flashed, singeing the ground only inches from where Colossus and Gambit were crouched. “She’s alive,” Gambit heaved a sigh of relief. His relief was short lived as the winds picked up speed, hurtling rocks and debris through the air. He winced as a few boards struck him in the side.
“Gambit, what’s going on?”
“It’s Stormy.”
Darkness. No air. Can’t move. Trapped. Trapped. Mama? Mama where are you?
Within moments everyone and everything was soaked in a torrential downpour, the rain coming in fat and fast, the drops hitting with such force they left welts on skin. Colossus tried to shelter Gambit with his larger frame, but as the winds increased he found it difficult to even maintain his footing.
“Get back!” Gambit felt Storm’s panic, felt her fear, felt her desperation to be free at all costs. He sensed her drawing power into herself and he knew he didn’t want to be close by when she released it.
Dark. Lost. Alone. Dark. Dead. Everyone she loved was dead. Mama? Did I do this? Did I kill you and Daddy? Yes. Oh, no. Alone. Trapped. Darkness. Can’t breathe.
White-hot streaks of lightening chased each other across the sky, slamming into the ground, the thunder shaking the earth itself. “Jean, get the Blackbird outta da sky!”
So dark. Can’t breathe, need to breathe. Crushing me. Crushing Mama. Oh Goddess, Mama. I’m sorry. So sorry. don’t leave me! Nonononono!! Come back! Please.
The roar of the wind was deafening, the remains of the fallen building trembling and rising from the ground, swirling and flinging through the air. Gambit and Colossus ran for cover. In the center of the tons of whirling brick and board Storm was curled on the ground, eyes closed, her motionlessness in the midst of such chaos unnerving.
“Storm!!” Gambit hollered but his voice was snatched by the raging winds. He attempted to move towards her only to be blown off his feet, his hands grasping for purchase. He caught a lead pipe sticking out of the ground. “We’ve gotta stop ‘er, Jean. She’ll never forgive ‘erself if she ‘urts someone.”
There was static on the line, then Jean’s voice. “I can’t reach her. She’s a mass of emotions, Gambit.”
“Merde.” Gambit pulled himself forward, reaching for Colossus’s outstretched armored hand. A brick caught him in the shoulder, sending him rolling across the dirt. He hit a parked car, the back of his head cracking against the door.
“Look out!” Kitty screamed from the building that she had phazed through for shelter. A small truck was tumbling along the street heading straight at Gambit.
Pounding foot beats could be heard seconds before Colossus threw himself in front of the hurtling truck, the steel and frame bending around his massive body.
“T’anks, homme.” Gambit rolled to his feet. “STORMY!!” He leapt over a bicycle flinging across the street. Several tons of rubble shook, lifting into the air and whirling in a tight ring as if they weighed no more than scattered leaves.
“Nightcrawler, can you get to her?” Jean asked wishing Scott were with them. They could use his leadership right now. Hell, she’d settle for a few more members of their team. Betsy and Warren had stayed behind and Wolverine and Alison were benched. Thinking of Wolverine gave Jean an idea.
“I… can try.” Kurt sounded uncertain and for good reason. The swirling debris made it damn near impossible to ‘port close enough to Storm to get her out.
“No, never mind.” Jean said. “Give me a minute.”
An explosion as pieces of building slammed into a propane tank. “We may not ‘ave a minute, chere,” Gambit hollered. The winds roared like a monster, the sound terrifying and black funnels began to spin overhead.
“Holy shit.”
Gambit looked at Colossus. “Couldn’ve said it better myself.”
“Get back to the plane.” Jean ordered.
“I ain’t leavin’ Stormy.”
“Colossus.” Jean said quietly, giving a mental nudge.
Gambit felt cool steel under his chin, then all went black.
Kurt, can you manage both Kitty and Iceman?”
“It’ll take a couple of jumps, but Ja.” *BAMF* *BAMF* BAMF* BAMF*
On board the Blackbird the X-Men watched the ground shake and ice shards rain from the sky. “What do we do now?” Kitty whispered.
“We wait for a miracle,” Jean replied. She flipped on the video recorder and crossed her fingers.
Darkness. Loneliness. Fear. I’m so sorry. Wait for me, Mama. I’m coming too.

Xavier Institute

*Wolverine.*
Logan’s head jerked up, splashing water. He growled. *In the shower, Chuck.*
*I am aware. I need you in the War Room.*
Logan tensed. *Storm?*
*War Room.*
Three minutes later Wolverine walked into the War Room, his hair dripping down his back, a dark look on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”
Xavier brought up the visual Jean was recording from the Blackbird.
“Christ.” Wolverine felt his stomach drop. Clouds rolled and boiled on screen, lightening flashing so bright the screen went white several times. “Where is she?”
“In the center of that,” Xavier pointed to the wall of debris swirling on screen.
“What happened?” Wolverine snarled.
“A building collapsed, Storm became trapped.”
Jesus. Wolverine clenched his jaw. “When do I leave?”
“You’ll never get to her before she burns herself out, and that’s exactly what she’s doing. She’s trying to burn herself out.”
Wolverine growled. “She wouldn’t.”
“She’s not herself right now, she’s still mentally trapped under a ton of guilt.” Xavier said.
“I ain’t just sit here and watch her kill herself,” Wolverine slammed his fist into the table.
“Nor do I expect you to.” Charles opened the sliding table top, pulling out a headset. “It’s set to their frequency. There’s no guarantee, but there’s a good chance Storm still has her comm on. Talk to her.”
Wolverine snatched the headset from the table. “Storm, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Storm, answer me.”
No response.
“Okay, darlin’. I know yer trapped in a dark place right now, but I need ya ta listen ta me. What happened ta yer parents wasn’t yer fault. It was an accident. A tragic accident.”
Silence.
“Storm?” Wolverine held the link to his ear. “Come back.”

Austria

“Storm? Come back.”
“…”
Thunder boomed overhead, the funnels touching down.
“Listen ta me. I need ya ta come back, darlin’. I need ya ta keep me sane.”
“…” Ororo closed her eyes tighter.
“’Ro.”
White eyes opened. Logan?
“If ya die, Storm, I’ll follow. Ya can’t leave me, I won’t let ya. I love ya too damn much ta let ya go.”
No. Logan couldn’t die. No.
“Damn it, Storm! Answer me! I swear ta God if you don’t answer me--”
“Logan. Shut up.” Ororo felt the storm raging around her. Calming it down was going to take just as much energy as keeping it going. “I need to think.” She floated into the air, going higher into the atmosphere, pulling the storm with her.

Xavier Institute

“Logan. Shut up.”
Wolverine smiled. That was his girl. He watched on the screen as she rose from the swirling mass of rubble, taking off for the upper atmosphere, where the air was too thin to maintain the squall. Smart. He felt a flare of pride in his chest.
“Hurry up and get home.” He yanked the headset off and breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Xavier a hard look. “I’m back on active.”
Xavier nodded, knowing when not to argue.

Austria

Ororo felt the last of the storm dissipate, her body numb with exhaustion. The winds holding her aloft were dying down and she was freefalling to the ground.
*BAMF*
“Hey, Crawler.”
“Hello, Storm.”
*BAMF*

Xavier Institute
Loft

Ali rolled, yawning. She had slept longer than she’d planned, but she felt refreshed. She scratched the back of her head, stifling another yawn. She moved to get up but stopped when she noticed a silver disc atop the pillow beside her. Confused she picked it up. It was unmarked, without so much as a fingerprint on the surface. Ali tugged on her pants, making her way to the small desk in the corner that housed her laptop. She inserted the disc and waited. It was an Institute disc because immediately it loaded and began to play.
Ali leaned forward, her eyes glued to the monitor. Gambit was onscreen, twirling his adamantium bo staff, looking every inch the Yummy he was. Ali smiled. God, he was so damn fine. He was flipping along the walls, and Ali realized this was a Danger Room tape. Huh. She stretched her arms, still watching her Yummy flip through the air, charged cards taking down his opponents. He was good.
Suddenly he stopped, cocking his head to one side, apparently talking to someone. He shrugged and one side of his mouth curved in a sensual smile. Ali’s gut tightened. A lithe figure came into camera range and Ali recognized Betsy immediately. Gambit nodded to something she said and swung his staff. Ali realized she had no volume and quickly turned it up.
The two X-Men circled each other warily, Betsy launching the first attack, her foot arcing towards Gambit’s head as she spun in he air. He easily deflected her, tossing her into the wall. Betsy laughed, a sleek and silky sound.
Unconsciously Ali’s hands closed into tight fists. Sparring, they’re just sparring, she told herself. Storm and Remy did it all the time. No biggie. Still Ali found herself leaning forward, watching as they continued to fight for several minutes. It was grueling and borderline hostile. Betsy connected a solid kick and leg sweep knocking Gambit onto his back. Betsy straddled him her psi-blade raised. Gambit grinned his devil may care grin and Betsy’s blade faded out. She leaned forward…
Ali bit her lip.
Gambit wrapped one gloved hand in Betsy’s hair, returning her kiss with great ardor. Ali felt a bead of blood form on her lower lip where her teeth were gouging but she didn’t care. Turn it off, her brain cried, but she couldn’t. It was like watching a car wreck, horrible and terrible, yet drawing attention, unable to look away. The two X-Men rolled, Betsy tearing Gambits shirt over his head. Ali heard Gambit’s low moan as Betsy tongued his nipples and she hurriedly hit the mute on her laptop. She could feel tears coursing along her cheeks and that really pissed her off. She’d only cried twice since she was eight years old. Once when she found out about Shinobi’s attack on Storm, and right now. Within minutes both of the onscreen lovers were naked, Gambit pounding into Betsy, and from the look of it, really enjoying himself. Ali flung herself from the chair, retching into the small trash can beside the desk. Her Yummy…
She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, a wave of anguish like nothing she’d ever felt before causing her to double over in pain. Oh, God. Etienne. How could you? She reached up blindly, knocking the laptop onto the floor. She needed to get away from here, from this room. She stumbled to the door, her heart shattering into a million pieces as the volume was once again returned in the crash to the floor and she heard Gambit’s grunts and deep groan as he found release with another woman.

Blackbird

“You sure you’re feelin’ alright, chere?” Gambit brushed a lock of snow hair from Storm’s face.
“I’m fine.” She took a drink from the cup of water he offered her. “Just a bit shaken.” She gave him a concerned look. “You have been acting strange lately, bro. Care to talk about it? We’ve a while before we reach home.”
Gambit looked away from her piercing blues. “Non. Gambit be fine.”
“Remy?’ Ororo touched his arm.
“”I said I was fine.” He jerked his arm away. Immediately he was sorry. “Stormy, I didn’--”
“Hush.” she hugged him. “We’re family, Remy. Family is forever.” She laughed. “You, me, Wolverine and Alison, and now I think we can add Jubilee to the roster.”
Gambit looked past her out into the darkening night sky. “Ali.” he whispered.

Xavier Institute

Ali hugged herself, rocking back and forth atop the highest roof of the Institute, trying her damndest not to cry. Fucker. She clenched her eyes shut, her chin trembling.
“Hiya, kid.”
Ali buried her head in her arms. “Go away, Wolverine.”
Logan flicked a match, lighting his cigar. He puffed twice making his way along the ridge of the roof with animal like agility. He crouched beside Ali, silent, watching the kids below. The air was cool and the night air smelled fresh, and of Alison’s tears.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asked after a long silence.
“No.”
Wolverine sighed. “Want me to gut him?”
Ali snorted. “Yes.”
“What’d he do?’
Ali’s voice shook from the hollow space between her crossed arms. “Not a what, Wolves, a who.”
Wolverine was once again silent. Damn. He was no good at comforting. Hell, he was the one usually inflicting the pain. He placed one hand on Ali’s shoulder. “You wanna come stay at the boathouse?”
Ali lifted her head. “I don’t want to crowd you and Storm. Y’know three’s a--”
“I’ll be expectin’ ya fer dinner,” he said in his gruff no nonsense tone. He got to his feet and walked back across the roof, leaving Ali to her grief. He knew she needed to have some space, but he wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.
Ali watched him go with burning eyes. Beneath that tough exterior beat the heart of a loyal friend. She turned back to the deepening night and let her head fall back.
She wanted to scream, to rant, to rage, but she sat silent. The pain was too intense, it was unbearable. She wiped her eyes angrily. She was Alison Blaire, kick-ass rocker, lead singer of Dazzler, a bitch with a powerhouse of attitude. She cried for no man. Fuck him. Ha. No, that was Betsy’s thing now.
“Ugggnnh.” Ali bit back a cry of sorrow. Her chest tightened painfully and her breathing was shallow. “Damn.” she muttered. She took a deep breath and got to her feet. She took a misstep and a scream caught in her throat as she fell into the air.
“Careful.” Warren’s arms caught her beneath her arms and knees. He swooped from the heaven’s like the angel he was named for, his white wings spread against the purple velvet of the sky.
Once they were safely landed he released her slowly and took a step back. “Ali? Have you been crying?” He wiped his thumb across her cheek.
Alison swatted his hand away. “Thanks for the save, Winger, but mind your own damn business.”
Warren took a step back, his light eyes reflecting a momentary pain.
Ali cocked her head. “You knew, didn’t you?’ she asked quietly.
Warren took a step back. “I don’t know what-”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“A few weeks.”
Ali recoiled thinking of Gambit’s sudden attentive behavior, the sense that something wasn’t right. “How’d you find out?”
“Alison, I don’t thi-”
She grabbed his shirt by the collar. “How?”
“I walked in on them in the pool house.”
Ali clutched her stomach. So the Danger Room hadn’t been the only time. That fact hit her the hardest. A momentary lapse in sanity, a brief one time fling, maybe she could have worked past that, but a repeated betrayal. She felt her eyes burning.
“Alison,” Warren reached for her as she swayed.
“Did you do it?” she whispered, her voice raw. “Did you leave the disc?”
Warren blinked, genuine confusion in his eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.” Ali shook his hand off. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Warren looked away. “Would you have believed me? I like you, Ali. I didn’t want to risk you hating me.”
“I want to be alone, War.” He legs felt like jello.
“I understand.”
Ali turned, her knees buckling.
“Ali.” Warren scooped her into his arms, flapping his wings and soaring into the air. “Where to?”
“To Storm’s house.”

Loft

“Ali!” Gambit ran up the stairs, eager to see his petite bella. She was everything to him, he loved her beyond reason. He needed her to know that. The bedroom door was ajar when he reached the top of the stairs and he pushed it open with a smile. “Ali?” The room was quiet and dark, except for a faint blue-white glow on the floor beside the desk, he could hear faint sounds coming from the laptop, grunts and groans. His mouth quirked. Was Ali watching dirty movies?
Gambit walked over to the facedown laptop, turning it in his hands as he picked it up. “No.” It fell from numb fingers. “ALI!” he raced from the room.

Xavier Institute
Boathouse

“This really is ‘put hair on yer balls’ steak, isn’t it,” Ali asked rhetorically, downing half a glass of water after taking too big of a bite of the spicy meat.
“Toldya.” Jubilee grinned, aggressively forking the dead cow on her plate.
Wolverine grunted, cutting his steak. He caught Ali staring at him and lifted his head. “What?”
“I dunno. You’re using a steak knife. I just kinda thought you’d, y’know -snikt- your food.”
Wolverine chuckled taking a swig of his beer. “Believe it or not, Alison, I know how to use utensils.”
“Yeah, he’s getting better everyday,” Jubilee confirmed. “He only needs a bib occasionally.”
“Funny, munchkin,” Wolverine growled.
Jubilee grinned squishing her mashed potatoes through her teeth.
“Jubilee.” Wolverine grimaced making her giggle.
She tilted her head towards Ali, waving her fork in Wolverine‘s general direction. “The man can watch his own flesh peeled back and regenerate, but can’t stomach mushed taters. Go figure.” The three of them were seated around the kitchen table, a candle centerpiece glowing, filling the rustic boathouse with the scent of baked apple pie, one of ‘Ro’s favorites.
Suddenly Wolverine lifted his head, rising from his chair and practically running to the door. He yanked it open before the person on the other side had a chance to touch the handle.
“Logan.” Ororo stood on the opposite side, looking every inch like she’d been buried under a ton of rubble, leaning heavily against Nightcrawler. Kurt nodded to Wolverine, passing Ororo between them.
“Jean gave her a sedative to help her sleep,” Kurt explained noticing Wolverine’s worried expression. “She’s fine, just tired.”
“I can talk, Kurt,” Ororo said, slightly slurred, with a friendly ruffle of dark blue hair.
“Hiya, Kurt!” Jubilee called from the kitchen, practically kneeling on her chair and craning her neck to get a look at him. She waved madly.
“Good evening, Ladies.” Kurt smiled, white flashing against blue. “I believe Gambit is looking for you, Alison.”
Ali gave a nod but said nothing. She’d have to face him eventually, just not this second. Not when she could picture herself driving her steak knife deep in his gut and spilling small intestines onto the floor.
“Thanks, Elf.” Wolverine said. “If you wouldn’t mind, don’t mention that you saw Alison down here.”
Kurt looked confused but nodded his acquiesce. “Well, I guess I’ll be on my way. Gute Nacht.”
“Night.” Logan shut the door as Kurt bamfed away.
Ali and Jubilee greeted Storm.
Ororo smiled in greeting, but it was clear she was ready to fall on her face she was so tired.
“You put Storm to bed, Wolverine, we’ll handle the clean up,” Ali said.
“Naw, you two relax. I’ll take care of it later.” He lifted Ororo into his arms. She snuggled against him, already half asleep. “Jubes can show you the spare room, Alison. Make yerself at home.”
Ali nodded. “G’night.”
Wolverine carried Storm upstairs. After a few minutes Ali began to clear the table, needing to do something, anything to keep herself busy.
“So…?” Jubilee prompted.
“So, what?” Ali asked scraping the last of her potatoes into the trash.
“So, what happened with you and tall, dark and drool worthy?”
Ali flinched, thinking how close that description was to the one she gave Storm upon first seeing Gambit. “Nothing.”
“Riiiight.” Jubilee opened a pack of gum, slipping a piece into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. She picked up her plate, following Alison into the kitchen. They took care of the leftovers, washed the dishes and cleaned up the table, all with Jubilee talking away. Ali was thankful for the distraction, and even more thankful to Wolverine for giving her a place to stay. She knew eventually Remy would come to the boathouse, if not looking for her, he’d show up to see Storm.
Jubilee was still yakking as Ali knotted the garbage. “So, I hear you used to be a singer?”
“Once upon a time.”
“Were you any good?”
Ali smirked. “I thought so.”
“What kinda music?”
“Loud.”
“Uh-huh.” Jubilee put the last plate away “You want me to leave you alone?”
Ali was silent. Alone. No, she didn’t want to be alone. Alone meant she’d have to face it. “I--”
Knock. Knock.
Ali turned her head towards the door.
“Ali? You in der?”
At the sound of his voice everything flooded back. The rage, the hurt, the pain, the love, and the sting of betrayal. Jubilee stepped forward. “You want me to tell him to go fu-”
“Jubilee.” Wolverine’s warning growl stopped her. He padded down the stairs barefoot and bare chested. “Ali?” He waited for her to say something.
“I-I can’t,” she whispered.
Wolverine nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” He waited until Jubilee and Alison disappeared down the hall, the door to the guest room closing before he opened the front door. “Gumbo.”
“Wolverine.” Gambit looked past his shoulder. “Is Ali ‘ere?”
“Call it a night, friend.” was all Wolverine said.
Gambit glowered at him. “I need t’ see ‘er.”
A feral gleam entered Wolverine’s eyes. “Not tonight.”
“No offense, mon frere, but fuck you. You’d wan’ t’ see Stormy.” He stepped forward.
Wolverine placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “The difference being I wouldn’t fuck around on Storm. Now, are ya gonna leave, or do I have at tell Storm I opened her brother from stem at stern?”
“Wolverine.” Gambit looked agitated. “Let me see ‘er.”
“Look, Gumbo. Yer Storm’s family, that gives ya a little bit o’ leeway, but don’t push it.” Wolverine shoved him onto the porch, closing the door as he followed him out. “Now leave.”
Gambit’s eyes glowed red. “I ain’t leavin’ till I talk t’ Ali.”
-SNIKT-
“Stop.” Ali opened the door. “Thanks, Wolves, but I got this.”
He didn‘t budge. “Ya sure?”
“Yeah.” Ali’s eyes never left Gambit’s face.
Wolverine retracted. “I’m right upstairs.”
Ali kissed his cheek as he passed her. She stood silent, arms crossed over her chest, waiting.
“Ali--”
CRACK! A fierce right hook caught Gambit in the jaw. He staggered back, holding his mouth.
“Ali, please,” he said softly.
“Please what, Gambit? Stand here like a fool while you try and charm me into forgetting what I saw? What you DID!”
“Ali,” he stepped towards her, beseeching.
She recoiled from him. “Don’t you dare touch me!” she hissed as he reached for her.
Gambit’s fingers curled in on themselves. “Ali.” his voice broke.
“Deny it!” she said angrily. “Tell me it isn’t true, Gambit. Tell me it’s a hoax, a joke, a cruel fucking prank! Tell me! Tell me you didn’t fuck her!” Her voice shook with rage.
Gambit’s eyes flashed, reflecting the moisture building there. “I…I can’t.”
Ali turned away from him, her dark head bent. “Then we have nothing left to say to each other,” she whispered.
“Ali, non. I love you.”
“Don’t.” She turned on him, a look of disgust on her face. “Don’t say those words to me. You have no right. You don’t love me, Gambit. Stop lying to me.”
“It ain’t a lie, bella. I love you.”
“Stop.” She held up her hand, his words tearing at her. “Just stop.” She gave him a cold stare. “It’s done. We’re over.”
“No. Ali please,” Gambit knelt in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, pressing his face into her stomach. “Please. I‘m begging, petite. Don‘ leave me.”
Ali bit her lip, her hands clenching into tight fists to keep from burying her fingers in his thick locks. She would die before he saw how hurt she was. “Let go of me.”
“Never.”
“Now.” She was firm.
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you go.” Gambit pulled her tighter and Ali could feel his tears through her tee shirt. “I need you, Ali. I can’t let go.”
“You can, and you will,” she said, her knee coming up and catching him under his chin. She kicked him away from her. Gambit looked up at her from his back, hurt in his devil eyes. She gave him a cold smile. “I should be careful, apparently this is foreplay for you.”
To his credit he winced.
“Leave, Gambit. I don’t want you here.” She opened the door. “I’ll send someone to get my stuff tomorrow.” She closed the door.
Gambit slowly rose to his feet, pressing his hand to the dark wood. “Ali,” he said with a soft sound of distress, uncaring of the tears running down his face.
On the opposite side of the door Ali slid to the floor, her sobs low and mournful. Suddenly she was surrounded by arms. Jubilee pressed her head onto her shoulder, and Wolverine clasped her other shoulder in one large hand and Storm, groggy but awake, held her the tightest. No one spoke, no one moved. The four of them sat that way for a long time, until Ali finally shook her head and said, “I think I got boogers in your chest hair, Wolverine.”

Morning

Storm strolled onto the dock behind her and Logan’s house, heading for the lone figure at the end. Alison had already left the house by the time she had awakened and Logan told her she had been up at dawn.
Ali turned as she heard the clap of Storm’s sandals against the wood of the dock. “Storm.” She glanced at the items in Storm’s hands.
“I thought you could use these.” Ororo held up Alison’s guitar and amp.
Ali smiled slightly. “I think I need more than that,” she drawled.
Storm nodded. “Oh, I know. That’s why you, me and the Bacardi boys have a date tonight.”
Ali cocked her head. “Are you asking me out?”
“Ya betchyer sweet ass.”
“It’s creepy how well you do that.”
Ororo grinned. “All I need is a cocky swagger and a cigar, and I‘ve got it nailed.” Ororo set the amp on the dock, flicking the extension cord to get rid of the kinks. She leaned the guitar on the side. “Want to talk about it?”
Ali shrugged. “He’s your brother, I don’t want to come between that.”
“You won’t. He’s my brother and you are my best friend, my sister. I will continue to love you both no matter what. So, tell me. What’s that idiot gone and done?”
“Betsy.”
Storm was silent. Then, “That stupid fuck.”
Ali was surprised. She rarely heard Storm swear, and never with such cold intensity.
Storm gave her a heartfelt look. “I’m so sorry.”
Ali tried to act nonchalant. “Eh, shit happens.”
“Ali, you don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I know, Storm. But I’m barely keeping’ my shit together,” Ali felt her throat close. “I can’t dwell on the maybes or the whys. It happened. It’s done. Game over. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, finito, asta--”
“I get it.” Storm kicked off her sandals.
Ali sighed. She picked up her guitar, slinging the strap over her shoulder. Strom sat, dangling her legs over the edge of the dock, her toes skimming the water.
“I have training with Betsy today,” Storm said after a moment. “Want me to plant her ass?”
Ali laughed. “As much as I want to say yes, I have to say no. She didn’t owe me any loyalty, Storm. Gambit did.”
“You’re wrong. We’re a team. Loyalty and trust are the foundations we need to build on. If we don’t have those, we’re useless.” Ororo glanced back at the house where she spotted Logan stepping out onto the porch, morning coffee and beer in hand. She grinned, Goddess, she loved him, even his quirks.
Ali followed her gaze. “Thank you.”
Storm glanced up. “For?”
“For being my friend, for not pushing the issue, but mostly for showing me that it’s out there somewhere. That never ending soul mate love, that I thought…I thought….well, you know. You and Wolverino have that.”
Storm smiled. “We do.” She laughed as she watched Logan jerk back as Jubilee dropped a water balloon on his head from the second story bedroom window.
Ali strummed a few notes, but then put the guitar down hurrying back to the house. Ororo frowned, following her.
“Ali?”
“Bathroom.” Jubilee said from her position hanging from a coat hook.
Ali appeared a moment later. “When ya gotta go…”
“You’re all right?”
“Yeah, just stressed.”
Ororo watched her friend walk into the kitchen and pour herself a cup of coffee, a speculative glint in her cerulean eyes.
“Darlin’.” Logan came up behind her, burying his face in her hair, and pulling her back against the strong cradle of his body.
Ororo tilted her head back, brushing his lips with a feather light kiss. “What are your plans today?” she asked him, taking a seat and unfolding the paper, scanning the headlines for any news about mutants.
“I got two DR sessions today, and a few odd jobs at take care of. You?”
“Training this morning, conference this afternoon, a date with Ali tonight.”
Logan nodded. It would be good for Ali to get out with ‘Ro. If anyone could make her feel better it was his beautiful wife. He leaned over her, kissing her slowly. “See ya later, darlin’.” He grabbed his worn denim jacket from the wall, lowering Jubilee to the ground. “No more water balloons.”
Jubilee crossed her arms. “Some people have no sense of fun.”
He growled down at her. “And some people have no sense of self preservation.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Jubilee flapped her had.
“I think you’ve lost any ability to intimidate her,” Ororo said with a smile. “She has seen your Betty Boop boxers.”
Jubilee grinned.

Gym
Forty-five minutes later

“Wasn’ sure you were gonna show.” Gambit said as Storm entered the mirrored room.
Storm dropped her duffle. “And why wouldn’t I show?”
Gambit didn’t reply immediately. He expected her to be angry, but she seemed calm.
“Gambit, why wouldn’t I show?”
“Because of what ‘appened wit’ me and Ali.”
Storm pulled a roll of tape from her bag, wrapping her hands and wrists. “Hey, you want to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to you, that’s your issue.” Oh, she wasn’t angry. Stormy was livid.
She tore the tape with her teeth, tossing it back in her duffel. She bounced a couple of times, tossing her head back and forth, her long pony tail swaying back and forth. She stretched her arms wide, butterflying them and squatting. She was dressed in standard Xavier’s sweats and body hugging gray tank, the black tape wrapped tight and she flexed her fingers to loosen it a bit.
Gambit arched back, flipping in slow motion, stretching as he went. He did that a couple of times, coming to a stop near the mirrored wall. “’Ow is she?” He asked, unable to keep the question locked inside. He needed to know.
Storm gave him a frosty stare. “She was just kicked in the face by the man she loved. How do you think she is, brother dear?” She took up a fighting stance. “Let’s go.”
Gambit smirked. “No flexibility training today, padnat?”
“No.” She swept his legs in a smooth motion. Gambit flipped back.
“You wanna fight?”
“No.” Storm shook her head. “I want to train.”
Gambit nodded. “Okay den.” He moved quick, his hand grasping her wrist and flinging her over his shoulder.
Having been raised together, and knowing each other so well, Ororo had seen the move coming. She allowed her momentum to carry her forward, until her knees were level with his shoulders as he tossed her over his back, then she clamped her thighs around his head, pulling him back with her. They hit the ground hard, the mat offering little cushion.
Gambit rolled to his feet, stomping down. Ororo rolled, her pony tail trapped under his boot. “Gotchya,” he said.
“You think?” Ororo scissor her legs, taking him down and flipping herself up so that she stood over him.
“Nice, chere.”
“My husband taught me that.”
She took a step back, letting him up. They circled each other for a moment, Gambit doing several kicks and punches, working Storm back across the room, into a corner. Storm was impressed by Gambit’s steady offensive. She was getting ready to counter when a husky voice interrupted them.
“Can I play too?” Betsy stood in the doorway, leaning one arm over her head, a sexy smile on her face. From her position it was impossible for her to see Storm in the corner, that was until she strolled forward, and stepped around Gambit. Storm raised one winged brow at Betsy.
Betsy straightened.
“Come on then, Betsy. Come play with me.” Storm said in welcome.
For a moment the other woman looked surprised. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Too late.” Storm shoved Gambit aside. “We’re done.” She turned towards Betsy. “So what’s it gonna be, Bets? Want to play? We aren’t scheduled for another hour, but I can squeeze you in.”
Betsy’s smile became knowing. “Sure, Storm. We can play.” She swung her fist, catching Storm in the nose. Blood sprayed the floor.
Gambit stepped forward, but Storm held up her hand. She rolled her shoulders, an unconscious imitation of Wolverine. She motioned Betsy forward with a flick of her fingers, her hand outstretched, palm up.
“I see Wolverine’s been giving you more lessons,” Betsy muttered.
Storm smiled, the blood from her nose staining her lips. “He’s taught me so much.” Storm shifted her weight. “Like, did you know there are points on a person’s body that can render them immobile in less than a second. Here and here and here.” Storm whirled her two fingers on her right hand jabbing the pressure points on Betsy’s body as she spoke, the other woman dropping to the floor, her mouth opened as her body clenched. Storm wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “I won’t have backstabbers on my team. That’s your lesson today, Bets. Learn it, memorize it. Don’t make me quiz you.”
“Damn, padnat--” Slam! Gambit’s body was thrown across the room by a hard kick in his gut. Storm picked up her duffel. She gave them an icy stare over her shoulder, her voice just as cold. “I’ll be training in the Danger Room for the remainder of this workout period. I suggest both of you find somewhere else to be.”

Danger Room

Ororo cursed. She shouldn’t have lost her temper. It wasn’t her place. She had been upset, even angry at Gambit, but not to the point of wanting to cause him bodily harm. Then she’d seen Betsy, with that smile and sway. The all too familiar sexual tone in her voice when she spoke to Gambit. Grr. She hit the attacking soldier in the face with the palm of her hand, following the blow with a second upward hit, sending the freshly broken bones of its nose into its cerebral cortex. She flipped backwards several times, avoiding the lasers revolving around the room. She hadn’t lied to Jubilee. She did like Betsy, but Ali was her best friend, and despite wanting to remain impartial and neutral, Ororo had found it impossible. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a leader?
“Storm.” Wolverine strode into the room, effectively ending the program.
“Hey.” She straightened, wiping sweat from her brow. She was soaked. “What are you doing here?”
Wolverine moved towards her. “It’s after two o’clock, Storm. Me and Petey have the room now.”
Storm blinked. Had she really been in the Danger Room for over four hours?
“Are you alright?’ He asked concerned.
“Of course. I guess I just lost track of the time.” She smiled awkwardly picking up a small towel from the floor and patting her face.
“How long ya been in here?” he asked.
“Couple of hours,” she shrugged.
He cupped her face, studying her. “Have ya talked ta Chuck about yesterday?”
“Do I need to?”
“Storm, ya tried at kill yerself.”
“No I didn’t.”
“I saw ya. You were burning yerself out ta the point of no return. Even Chuck felt it.”
She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped away from him. “I just had a bad experience. I am a claustrophobe, Logan. Being buried is not altogether pleasant for me.”
He pulled her back into his arms. “Alright.” He crushed her lips beneath his. “I love ya, wife of mine.”
She relaxed, melting against him, twining her arms around his neck. He groaned, pressing one hand to the small of her back while the other cradled her face as his tongue teased hers.
“Okay you two. Come up for air.” Peter stepped through the hydraulic doors. “There’s a time and a place for that sort of thing.” He winked at Storm.
“Your just jealous that I got him,” she teased.
Wolverine gave her a hooded look, wondering how Peter was going to take that.
“Ah yes, but I still have my dark fantasies and that neat little ‘Wolverine Gone Wild’ program Beast made up for me.” Peter said with a smile. Storm was one of the few people that knew his sexual preference and she never avoided the issue, nor called attention to it. She just teased and treated him like she did the others. It was one of the reasons he liked her. Storm didn’t judge, she accepted.
“Okay, big guy, that’s enough ta give me nightmares fer a week.” Wolverine gave Storm one last kiss before requesting the program he and Colossus were going to train with.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said. Wolverine gave her a wink, but she didn’t miss the watchful glint in his steel eyes.
Storm left the Danger Room, rubbing her head. Four hours? She made her way to the showers, not having the energy to generate one of her own. She turned the knobs, hot steamy water flowed over her body. She sighed, relaxing under the spray, leaning her head back and enjoying the feel….
The water was cold. That was the first thing she noticed. The second was that her face was pressed to the mint green tiled floor beside the copper drain. She lifted her arm, flinging her wet hair over her head. What the…? She rose to her feet, confused. The overhead lights were on, and that was odd. They didn’t turn on until after five.
Storm turned off the water, wrapping her long towel around her torso. She walked slowly through the locker room, feeling like the room was tilted beneath her feet. She reached her locker, pulling out her watch, 5:32. She sank down onto the bench, taking a few deep breaths. She felt fine now. Man, that mission had taken more out of her than she thought. She’d better get a move on, she was to meet Charles and Scott in the conference room at six, then get ready with Ali for their night out. She was looking forward to it, they hadn’t gone out since Harry’s shortly after Vegas and that felt like forever ago, A night out was just what they needed.

Ali took the stage, a vision in skintight leather silhouetted in an awesome lightshow that shifted in color and intensity to match her emotions as she sang. Her voice sultry and deep, fluctuating with the hard rifts she wailed out on her guitar. She closed her eyes, lips skimming the mic as she sang, pouring every dark emotion burning through her heart out.

“You say you love me
You claim you love me
Why do you lie to me, it’s killing me
You say you love me
Trying to take me
Trying to break me
Why do you lie to me, it’s killing me


You're everyone’s charmin’ boy
Don’t play by any of the rules
I'm sick of all your lies- not a truth be told!
I've held in all this shit, Now I'm gonna choke
Standing in the shadows, Your false words in my head
The lies stuck in my throat

You say you love me
You claim you love me
Why do you lie to me, it’s killing me
You say you love me
Trying to take me
Trying to break me
Why do you lie to me, it’s killing me

I know you're fuckin’ around
I think I’m not the only fool
You and your beautiful face
It kills me to cry, to say goodbye
I thought I loved you but I loved a lie
Why’d you have to lie, you’ve killed it all
Goodbye, no other words but goodbye
I’m done loving a lie”

By the end of the song she was screaming into the microphone, her half-gloved fingers stroking a bleeding melody from her guitar, sweat dripping along her face. The crowd was going nuts, jumping and waving their fists in the air. From her seat on the corner of the stage Ororo watched her best friend vent her rage and frustration the only way she knew how. With raw energy that spilled forward to the rough beat of aggressive music. It was breathtaking to behold.
Ali jumped up and down, her spiked hair damp with sweat, her scratchy vocals etching a haunting blend of rage and anguish on Ororo’s heart. Lights in deep red and purple exploded on the stage as Ali finished her song.
Storm hopped from the stage, waiting as Ali handed the platform over to the house band once again.
“Impressive,” Storm said over the immediate loud drumming.
Ali was silent, downing her bottled water, pouring the last portion over her head.
“You feeling any better?” Storm asked.
One pierced brow rose.
“Ok. Dumb question.”
“You know, I really thought Gambit and I had something. That even if it ended, it wouldn’t be because we were shits to each other. I thought….I don’t know I guess I thought we meant more to each other than that.”
Storm nodded. “I understand. I don’t know what to say. Remy’s always been a charmer, and a ladies man, but even I thought you were different for him.”
“Guess we were both wrong.”
“I don’t know, Ali. I think he really loves you.”
“You don’t fuck other people when you’re in love, Storm. Simple fact.”
“You have a point there.” Ororo said with a sad smile. “So what do you want to do now? The night is still young.”
Ali laughed. “Storm, it’s damn near one in the morning.”
Storm gave Ali a curious look.
“Honestly.” Ali confirmed.
“Wow. Time flies when your having fun,” Storm muttered.
Ali placed he hand on Storm‘s bare arm. “You okay, Stormy?”
“Of course I am. Tonight is about you, so what now?”
“Yo quero Taco Bell?”
Storm laughed. “Grilled overstuffed beef burritos here we come!”

Xavier Institute
Boathouse

Wolverine twisted the phone cord around his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fist. He heard the static hiss of a long distance connection.
“[Hello.]”
“Uh, [hello]. [I’m calling for a Shiro Yashida.]” Wolverine paused. He spoke Japanese? When the hell did he start speaking Japanese? He had in his dream, but when he had woken it had all felt like surreal gibberish.
“[This is Shiro Yashida. Who is this?]”
“[My name’s Wolverine. I’m a member of a group of mutants you may be familiar with, known as the X-Men. I got your number from a co-worker of mine. This may seem like a ridiculous question, but do you know a Mariko Yashida?]”
There was a long silence. “[You say your name is Wolverine?]”
“[Yes.]”
“[What business do you have with Mariko?]”
Logan’s gut contracted. She was alive? “[Is she there?]”
“[You have not answered my question.]”
“[I…I’m an old acquaintance.]”
“[I do not believe you. What is your real name, Wolverine?]”
“[I go by Wolverine.]”
“[And she would know you by this name?]”
Probably not. “[Maybe.]”
Another long pause. “[I do not like your evasiveness, Wolverine.]”
Logan sighed. “[Look, I think Mariko may know me. I would like to speak with her, if possible.]”
“[You think she may know you. A moment ago you were an acquaintance.]”
Logan heard a dull roaring in his head, his vision going blurry, then clear. “[Listen, Shiro, I don’t have time for your shit. Put M’iko on the phone before I slap some adamantium upside your head.]”
Harsh breathing. “Logan?”
Wolverine stiffened. What the hell?
“Logan. Is that you?”
Sweat formed in the palm of the hand holding the phone in a death grip. “Yes.”
“It can’t be. We were told you were dead.”
“Obviously not.”
There was a long silence again. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know exactly. You know me? How do you know me?“
“You don’t remember?”
“It’s a long story and I’d rather not hash old shit out over the phone--”
“You should have stayed dead.” click.
Logan held the phone to his ear long after Shiro had hung up. Mariko was alive? He hung up the phone. He could use a beer. He pulled a six pack from the fridge, then yanked his leather coat from the wall, stalking out into the night, lighting his cigar and heading for the Institute garage that housed his bike.

En route to Xavier’s

“I just can’t take anymore…this life of solitude…I love you, I hate you, I just can’t live without you!” Ali sang loudly with the radio, her hands high over her head, caressing the night air, colors flying behind the red Mustang.
Ororo smiled at her friend, glad they had taken the convertible. The night was beautiful. Cool, crisp and clear. The stars glittered overhead, trapped in a sea of liquid ink and holding untold and undiscovered secrets. She heard him before she saw him. A lone figure traveling at breakneck speeds on a one of a kind motorcycle. He flew past the car, not even slowing. Ororo jerked her head, white hair whipping in the wind.
Ali turned in her seat. “Hey! Wasn’t that-?”
“My husband? Yes.”
“Where’s he going?”
“I don’t…Oh my…” Ororo abruptly lost consciousness, the car swerving off the road, hitting the rumble strip and careening over the embankment.
“Shit! Storm!!” Ali unbuckled her belt, practically sitting on Ororo’s lap, slamming her foot on the brake, trying to lift Storm away from the steering wheel. “Damn girl!” Ali grabbed the wheel, bring the car to a grinding stop, gravel skittering down into the foliage beneath them. Ali took a deep breath. She unbuckled Storm tilting her back in the seat. “Storm. Snap out of it.” She patted her face a couple of times.
“Ali?”
“Don’t you Ali me, chickie. You just scared the shit outta me.”
“What happened?”
“What happened? You passed the fuck out. Wolverine goes whizzing by on his new baby and you go lights out.”
Ororo rubbed her head. “I’ve been really tired lately.”
“Why didn’t you say something.”
“Because, Ali, you’ve got enough on your plate. Besides, I’m just overtired.”
“I’m taking you to see Big and Blue.”
“No. We don’t need to wake Henry.” Storm gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”
“Right. Look either you go see Henry or I tell Wolverine you passed out while driving.”
Storm scoffed. “And what? He’ll ground me?”
Ali gave her a look.
“Right. So Henry first thing in the morning.”
“I knew you’d see it my way. Now switch seats, I’m driving home.”
Storm made no argument, sliding into the passenger’s seat well Ali walked over the hood to get into the driver’s side. She gave the road behind her a look, wondering what Wolverine was doing out. She was worried about him. He’d been very quiet before she’d left. She closed her eyes, fighting exhaustion. She’d talk to him when he came home.

Boathouse
4 am

Logan crawled into bed beside Ororo. She lay on her side, curled against his pillow, holding it to her. Logan smiled at the sight of her. So innocent and pure. Her long colorless hair was pushed over her head so that it too curved around the pillow, her soft, full lipped mouth parted, her long lashes resting against the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. She was a remarkable woman. Brave and loyal, loving and giving. She was the light to his endless dark. She was his…everything.
With that thought in his head, Logan ran his hand along her thigh, up over her peach satin covered hip, along her arm until he cupped her fragile, determined jaw in his hand. She stirred, nuzzling him. “Hi, honey,” she whispered, slowly blinking awake.
“Hey, baby.” He curled behind her, rubbing his nose in the nape of her neck, inhaling her warm sleep smell. Lavender and rose with the underlying scent of rain and sandalwood. “How was yer night?”
“Fine. We went to a club in the city.”
“Mmm. Have fun?” He caressed her hips, molding her back against his already heated body.
“Yes.” Ororo moved, unconsciously rubbing against him, her hips making subtle undulations into his groin. “I saw you on our way home.”
Logan kissed her bare shoulder, pushing the thin strap of her nightie aside. “Where?”
“On the highway. Out for a spin?”
“Mm.” His tongue teased her skin right behind her ear. “Had a lot on my mind.”
“Oh?”
“Shh. I’m trying ta seduce my wife.”
“Oh.” Ororo rolled so that she was facing him. Goddess, she loved him so much. He lay beside her, his gaze hungry and demanding, making her tremble. He was fierce and powerful, the world’s most dangerous man. In her bed, in her heart, hers. She threaded her fingers through his wild windblown hair. “I love you, Logan.”
Logan gave her a lingering kiss. “I love ya too, ‘Ro.” He slid the light peach satin over her legs, up her stomach, lifting her slightly so that he could tug it from her altogether, leaving her bare to his hot gaze.
Logan buried his face in the hollow of her shoulders, his mouth moving over her silken skin. His hands shaped her slender body, tracing her womanly form, her lush lips, perfect breasts and rounded hips. So feminine. So strong. “Ororo.” He breathed her name against the swell of her breast, flicking his tongue, forming an erotic peak. His kissed his way up the vulnerable line of her throat, his moist mouth lingering, tasting every inch of her until he reached her mouth, fastening there. She was everything to him. “Everything.” he said aloud without realizing it, sliding his tongue along hers in a fiery dance. She murmured against his lips, small sounds, words of love and endearments.
Ororo kissed her way across his shoulders, over his broad chest, sucking gently against one male nipple. Her entire body was engulfed in flames. She was so hot, she burned for him. Only him. Logan.
He caught her hips, pinning her to the bed, telling her with his dark eyes how much he loved her before filling her in one smooth, powerful thrust. Ororo groaned, her head falling back over his arm. Logan grunted, teeth nipping her chin, working down her neck. He moved hard and fast, long sure strokes designed to bring her pleasure.
Ororo looked up at the face above her, his animal magnetism catching her breath. He was so heartbreakingly beautiful to her. Feral and strong, dark and sensual. She whispered it to him, how beautiful he was, how wondrous she found him.
Logan couldn’t believe the words his glorious wife was whispering in his ear as he thrust into her. Beautiful. Wonderful. Perfect. She was telling him these things and he shuddered in reaction. How she could see past the dark, past the blood, past the animal amazed him, but she did. She knew him better than anyone, including himself. He looked down at her, her eyes swimming with undiluted love, her lips parted as she panted, little sounds of pleasure coming from her as he rocked. So fucking incredible. She loved him.
She leaned up, capturing his mouth with her own, offering total acceptance of him. He rolled them so that she was on top, straddling him, her abundance of thick snowy hair falling around them. He groaned and growled watching her move on him. “Yer mine.” he said with a growl, his hands gripping her waist.
“Yes.” she affirmed.
She moved her body faster and Logan fought not to close his eyes. She was such an erotic picture on top of him that he almost lost control. She was too much, robbing him of his ability to think. Fuck. She undulated her body, grinding against his harder now, faster. Fuck. Oh Jesus.
Ororo’s breath shortened, every part of her body tingling, blood rushing through her body, humming and singing, crying out for him. Her heart. Her soul. “Logan!” she shattered.
With a fierce roar he followed, holding her down on him as his hips bucked, his body exploding into hers. She collapsed on his chest. He buried his hands in her moonlit hair, his breathing erratic. He felt her smile against his skin and he tilted her face. “What?”
She grinned. “Even your healing factor has a hard time keeping up with us. Your heart is racing.”
Logan gave her a wolfish grin. “Give it a minute.”
Ororo laughed as he rolled them again, kissing her slowly. “Love you.”
He gazed at her intense. “Yer my only, ‘Ro. Know that.”
She tilted her head, questions in her eyes, but he leaned forward kissing her again, making her lose all thought.

Morning

Ororo stood outside the downstairs bathroom door, leaning against the wall when it opened and Ali stepped out, still damp from her shower.
“Mornin’.” Ali greeted with a weak smile.
Ororo handed her a slim box.
“What’s this?” Ali turned it in her hands. She shook her head. “No.”
“Take it.”
After a moment Ali nodded, returning into the bathroom and shutting the door. She emerged three minutes later, with Ororo waiting in the exact same spot. Without a word exchanged between them Ororo enfolded her friend, her sister, in a loving embrace, holding her as her shoulders shook.
Logan watched the two women in the hall hug from his seat at the kitchen bar, morning coffee in hand. Ororo met his steel gaze over Ali’s shoulder and she nodded.
Ali sniffed, but put on a brave smile, walking with Storm into the kitchen. “Looks like your gonna be an uncle,” she said to Wolverine as nonchalantly as though she were commenting on the weather, but he could smell her fear and sadness and loneliness.
“Can’t wait, kid.” he said gently.
“Looks like your not the only one going to see Henry today, eh, Storm?” Ali asked grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. She grimaced, too late realizing her faux pas.
Wolverine straightened slowly, swiveling towards Ororo, who was glaring daggers at the back of Ali’s head. “Why are ya going at see Hank?”
“Just a check up,” she shrugged.
Wolverine stalked towards her. “Yer lyin’.”
“I don’t lie.”
“It shows.”
She scowled at him. He crossed his arms, his head cocked. His stubborn stance. “I’m just a bit run down.”
“Why didn’t ya say something.” He moved her towards the couch, forcing her to sit.
“Because of this.” she said. “I don’t need to be babied. I have a lot of work to do and I know you, Logan, you’ll hover around like some overprotective mama hen.”
Ali chuckled. Wolverine and overprotective mama type was comical.
He tossed her a narrow look over his shoulders. “Remind me in nine months or so ta teach ya some respect.”
“I’ll be sure to jot that down.” Ali said sipping her juice.
Logan turned back to Ororo. “Take today off.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Storm, it may not be such a bad idea,” Ali added from the kitchen. “Especially after last night.”
“Alison-”
“What happened last night?” Wolverine growled.
“Stormy blanked, passed out cold.”
Wolverine turned back to Storm a dark scowl on his face.
“Damn near killed us, what with the car going over the embankment and all.”
“Alison.” Storm gave her a mutinous look, mouthing ‘traitor’.
“Storm.” Wolverine held her gaze. “Has that happened before?”
“What? Spacing and going over a hill while driving? Hmm…Nope. Pretty sure that’s the first time.”
He growled. “Ya know what I mean.”
“That’s my cue.” Ali said, leaving the kitchen and closing her bedroom door.
Ororo thought about the blank spaces in time lately, and waking up face down on the shower room floor. “No.”
He sniffed her.
“Logan. Cut that out.”
“Yer lyin’.”
“Look, I’m going to see Hank today, so can we drop this? Honestly.” Ororo stood, walking into the kitchen. “Besides, we have to think of Ali now. She needs us.”
“Ali’s a big girl, ‘Ro.”
“So am I.”
“Yer my wife.”
She smiled warmly at that. “Yes, I am.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “I worry ‘bout ya, darlin’.”
“Logan, you worry too much. Everything’s fine. Just a little tired.”
He pulled her close, his eyes darkening in concern.

Xavier Institute
Med lab

Ororo sat numb, listening dazedly to what Hank was telling her. His furry blue features blurred in front of her, glittering tears slipping past dark lashes, sliding down her face, momentarily disconcerting the good doctor.
“Do you understand everything that I have told you?” Henry crouched in front of Ororo, holding her slender hands in his meaty paw-like ones.
Through the rushing in her ears she heard her voice, far away. “Yes.”
“I have already alerted the Professor to the situation. We’ll do everything we can, Storm. There are a lot of dif-”
Ororo hopped from the table, holding the back of the blue and white checkered johnny closed. “I know you will.” she interrupted. She hugged him with her one free arm, and kissed his furry cheek gently. “I have to go find Wolverine.”
“Would you like me to come with you. To explain?”
Ororo shook her head. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Hank watched her pick up her clothes from the chair she had folded them on top of. “You are not going to tell him, are you?”
“What? Of course I am going to tell him. It’s not like I could keep it a secret even if I wanted to with that nose of his.”
Henry grasped her shoulder. “Tell him everything, Storm.”
She shrugged away from him. “I will tell him.”
“Everything.”
“What he needs to know.”
“Storm-”
“Hank.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is a miracle. I will not ruin it with trepidation and…and distress over things that can’t be avoided.”
“I have every intention of using every source the Professor has to help you.”
“Thank you.” Storm gave him a solemn look. “I know you will. Now, where’s Ali?”
“With Cecilia getting some prenatal vitamins, and the run down on the things she can and can‘t participate in.”
Ororo smirked. “Bet she’s loving that.”
“She will adjust.” He hesitated. “Storm…”
She gave him a gentle smile. “Don’t look so sad, Henry. This is a happy day. Now shoo so I can get dressed.”
He chuckled. “Dear girl I have just seen all the secrets you have to offer.”
“Funny. Still, get out.” She pinched his furry butt through his lab coat.
Ororo waited until the door slid shut behind her overly large friend before quickly dressing in her faded jeans and yellow camisole top. She smiled softly, sinking into the chair, her mind whirling in chaos. She placed her hand over her lower abdomen. A baby. A miracle. Hers and Logan’s child.
The door slid open and Ali strolled in, dark hair tucked behind her ears, her standard tank replaced by a body hugging, long sleeved green and red top that read: Naughty Girls Need Love Too. “Well?”
Ororo looked up. “Looks like baby Blaire is going to have a cousin.”
“No fuckin’ way!”
“Way.”
“Holy crap!” Ali paused. “Wait. Shit for brains told me you couldn’t have kids.”
“Apparently we were wrong.” Ororo stood. “I need to find my husband.”
Ali nodded, a smug smile on her face. “What do you think he’ll say?”
“Oh, probably: ‘What? Are ya serious, darlin‘? Sit down!’” Storm lowered her voice to a growly timbre.
“That sounds about right.” They walked in silence for a minute.
“You need to tell him.” Storm said to Ali. They walked through the corridor towards the school’s lobby, nodding in silent greeting to several of the younger students.
Ali shook her head. “I don’t have to.”
“Yes you do.”
“Why? I don’t want him in my life anymore. I can do this without him.”
“I’m sure you can Ali. But, it’s his child and he has a right to know.”
Ali grunted, then grudgingly, “Hnh.”
Ororo laughed. “You’ve been spending way to much time with Wolverine.”
Once outside the girls descended the white stone steps, strolling into the courtyard talking quietly to each other.
“Alison.” Warren was striding towards them, his gold hair glinting in the sun, his bare chest a golden tan, looking every inch the creature he was codenamed for. “I stopped by the boathouse but you weren’t there.”
“Obviously, Winger.” Ali raised a brow.
“Right.” He smiled sheepishly. “Good morning, Storm.”
“Hi, Warren.”
“Could I steal you away for a minute, Ali?”
“Um, sure. Catch up with you later, Stormy.”
Ororo watched Alison and Warren walking away, noticing how his wings shifted subtly, opening a bit further as of to encompass Alison. Warren had a thing for Ali? Storm felt a momentary stab of sadness for her brother. Louse though he was, she truly believed he had strong feelings for Ali. She sighed. She couldn’t fix Gambit’s messes for him anymore. He needed to grow up sometime. Time to face some real consequences for his frivolous actions.
Ororo was still holding her abdomen when she arrived at the lower field where Wolverine was working on hand to hand with Colossus. He had finally caved and started teaching a class. Voluntary students only. Wolverine said he didn’t want to teach a bunch of snot nosed little punks that were forced to be there. They either wanted to learn his aggressive lessons, or they stayed the fuck away. She watched from a short distance, taking a seat on the grass, enjoying the sight of him in action. He was raw power and ferocious energy. She bit her lip as Colossus landed a blow to Wolverine’s midsection, sending him through the air. He flipped back, holding his ribs, landing a few feet away, fangs bared.
“Good.” he grunted. “Next time I don’t wantchya ta hesitate. Hit hard and hit fast. Now go get me a beer.” He clasped Colossus’s forearm. Two warriors leaving the field. He was bending to pick up his discarded shirt when he caught her scent. Summer rain on sandalwood fields. He lifted his head, dark eyes locked on her. Ororo.
“Hey.” She stood as he came forward, strands of cloud colored hair escaping the hold she had on them as she pushed her thick mass from her face.
“Darlin’.” He leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her cheek. “How was yer visit with Hank?”
Ororo smiled a giddy smile. “Come here.” She took his hand, leading him to one of the shadowed corners of the Institute. When they were hidden from prying eyes she gave him a smoldering look, taking his hand and pressing it to her flat stomach.
Logan stared at her questioningly, but as she continued to smile her dazzling smile, realization dawned. “’Ro?” he barely got her name out.
“We’re having a baby,” she whispered excitedly.
Logan stood stupid for a full twenty seconds. “A baby?”
“Yeah, you know, a tiny little version of us.” she teased.
She felt his fingers flex involuntarily on her stomach. When he still didn’t say anything she grew concerned. Maybe he didn’t want children. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe he--
Logan pulled Ororo into his arms, his mouth devouring hers in a passionate kiss, his teeth nipping her lower lip as he growled in pleasure. Ororo, pregnant, with his baby. Christ! How lucky could one man get? He felt her tension at his hesitance to respond and he sought to soothe it away. He nuzzled her neck beneath her ear. “I love ya, angel.”
“You’re happy about this, right?” she was still a little uncertain.
He pulled back so that she could see the smile on his face. “Happy ain’t even in the same ball park as ta what I’m feelin’ now, darlin’.” He cradled her face between his hands, his mouth moving over hers in slow seduction, making her moan. He teased her tongue with the very tip of his own. “Can we still…?”
Ororo sighed softly, molding her body to his. “Mmmhm.”
“Good.” -Snikt-
Ororo gasped, wide-eyed. “Logan, anyone could come around the corner.”
“Makes it interesting, “ he rasped, huskily, backing her up until she was pressed against the bricks and ivy. He trailed his finger tips along her collar bone, one, lone blade sliding under the this strap of her camisole, cool against hot skin. Ororo bit her lip, reflexively arching into him. He growled at her trust. He ran his claw back and forth slowly, teasingly.
“Logan,” she moaned.
“Fuck, I love the way ya say my name.”
Ororo smiled seductively. She pressed her hips to his, rocking slightly. “I love the was y you feel.”
Logan was lowering his head to hers when an explosion shook the ground and a blood curdling scream rent the air. Wolverine snapped his head up, catching the familiar scent of phosphorous wake. Gumbo.
“What is it?” Ororo moved around him, heading for the front of the school. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Remy!” she hollered, racing forward. Wolverine grabbed her arm.
“I’ll handle this,” he growled. “Gumbo!”
Gambit didn’t even turn, he kept his glowing red eyes on his target. He flicked another card from his fingers, it soared, narrowly missing the winged mutant it was aimed at.
“Back off, man!” Warren yelled from the air. He was sporting a bloody nose and a split lip.
“I saw you, salaud! Touchin’ ‘er!” Two more cards flew. Gambit was enraged, his hands glowing bright. “Get down ‘ere!! Face me like a man!!”
“The kid don’t got a chance against ya, Cajun. Leave him be.” Wolverine stalked the fired up Cajun charmer, his black eyes watching him carefully. Wolverine knew the signs of someone over the edge and Gambit was way over the edge.
“Stay da fuck outta dis!” he shot over his shoulder. “Dis between me and da bird-boy.”
“Not when yer disturbin’ the students and more importantly my wife. Let it go, Cajun.”
Warren took advantage of the distraction to attempt to fly away, but Gambit noticed, sending a barrage of cards into the air. Two connected with Warren’s right wing, sending him to the ground hard. No one moved. Gambit snapped his bo staff open, a look of deadly fury on his face.
Wolverine wasted no more time on words, he lunged, catching the agile Cajun off guard and flinging him to the ground. He straddled him, blocking Gambit’s angry swing with his claws, adamantium clashing adamantium. “Someone get fly-boy outta here!” he ordered. Several female students rushed forward, helping a badly beaten Angel to his feet.
“Get da fuck off me, homme.” Gambit swore, grunting in an effort to remove the three hundred pound mutant from his chest. Watching warren limp away with furious eyes.
“Not until ya calm down, mop top”
“Don’ you dare give me shit ‘bout my hair.” Gambit ground out. He reached out, touching Wolverine’s claws with one glowing hand. “Let go.”
“Don’t do it, Gumbo. Ya won’t like the consequences.”
“Dat fucker was kissing Ali.”
“Yeah? And?”
Gambit jerked his hand away, covering his face as the skin around Wolverine’s left arm was torn off by the explosion.
“REMY!!” Storm was furious.
“No.” Wolverine held out his good hand. “You stay put.” He bared his fangs at Gambit, pressing him back into the ground. “Ya lost any right ya had ta Ali the second ya stuck yer dick in Bets.”
Gambit winced. “I didn’ mean ta ‘urt ‘er.”
“Don’t feed me yer excuses. I ain’t interested. Ya screwed up, treated her like shit and now yer done.” Gambit finally kicked himself loose, rolling away and standing.
“Like you’re so fuckin’ perfect? Like you never ‘urt Stormy? You t’ink I don’ know what you did t’ her? I saw ‘er, you animal! After you left, walked out on ‘er, your wife. Fuckin’ left! I saw da marks, all da blood. Or did you conveniently forget dat too//, Wolverine? Forget you raped your own wife?! No, you don’ get to lecture me on ‘ow to treat a woman!”
Wolverine moved like lightning, and smashed his fist into Gambit’s face, less out of anger at the Cajun and more at the buried rage Gambit’s words brought up. Of course he remembered that night. Another punch. Fucker. Wolverine tackled him.
Gambit collapsed his staff, charging the metal full capacity. He grabbed Wolverine’s pants as the tips of three claws touched his cheek. Both men glared at each other, one with devil red eyes glowing, the other with long canine’s bared. Gambit cocked an eyebrow. “’Ow mad d’you t’ink Stormy be if I blow off yer family jewels?”
“Probably slightly more pissed than when yer head tumbles across the lawn.”
Suddenly a cold spray of water hit the two men, making them break apart and scramble. They stood, dripping and glaring at the dark haired woman holding the fire hose in her hands. Ali pushed the valve handle forward, cutting off the spray.
“Aww, c’mon! I wanted to see how the fight was gonna end!” Jubilee grumbled from her seated position in the grass. “’Course I was rootin’ for Wolvie, but man…what a let down.”
Ali gave her a dark look, then turned it on the two waterlogged men in front of her. “You boys go play Alpha Male elsewhere.”
“Ali--” Gambit stepped towards her. WHOOOSHHHH!!!
Ali unleashed the hose again. “Don’t speak.” she said. “Now, here’s what we’re gonna do. Wolverine, go hug your pregnant wife and tell her you love her, because from the look on her face you’re about fifteen seconds away from severe ass scars courtesy of Stormy shoving a couple thousand volts up your ass. Tall-dark-and-too-stupid-to-know-a- good-thing when he’s got it, get your soggy ass up to the loft. I’ll be up as soon as I calm down and don’t want Wolverine to show me what your spleen looks like.”
Jubilee got to her feet. “Damn.” She leaned in close and whispered for Ali only, “Those hormones kicking in early or what?”
Ali gave her a startled look. “How…?”
“Jubilee knooooows…” Jubilee waved her arms and fingers in a mystical fashion.
“Jubilee snoooooops,” Ali countered. “She turned, pointing the nozzle of the hose at Jubes. “Run.”
“Ahh!!” Jubilee took off.When she was in the school Ali dropped the hose. “Move it, Rem. We got shit to settle.”
“Yes.” he walked past her. “Did I ever mention der’s somet’in about an ultra independent punk babe weildin’ a fire’ose dat jus’ gets dis Cajun boy all hot an spicy.”
Ali rolled her eyes. “And to think, I once found that charming. Move it Jumbolia!” She tossed Storm a look over her shoulder and Storm smiled her support.
Wolverine wrapped one wet arm around Ororo’s waist, his eyes on Gambit. He felt Storm touch his healing arm, could smell the ozone building, then gone. He looked at her, and she took a deep breath. “No powers for awhile,” she said. “Doctor’s orders.”
Wolverine bent his head to hers, intent upon kissing her lush lips and rekindling what they started beside the building.
*Wolverine.*
Damn. He growled. *If someone ain’t dead, or needs ta be, I’m busy.*
*Nick Fury is on his way here.*
*Lahdeedah. Want me ta bake cupcakes. Busy.*
*He’s acquired new information on the Weapon X program.*
Wolverine stiffened. *What?*
*I think you’d best come to my office.*
Wolverine broke contact, looking at Ororo and feeling a terrible unease wash over him. He pulled her tight against him, uncaring that several students were still milling about.
“Wolverine?”
“I gotta go.” he kissed her fiercely. “Love ya.” He strode into the mansion, fighting the urge to grab her and run for the hills as far and as fast as they could go.

Xavier Institute
Loft

Gambit watched Ali through narrowed eyes. She had entered the room only a moment ago and was still hovering beside the door. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight back and forth. “Why’d you attack mister Hunky-Wings?” she asked.
Gambit cocked his head, his eyes narrowing at the nickname. “I saw ‘im kiss you. I saw it, chere, and it damn near killed me. You kissin‘ anoder man.” It was only the fact that he also saw her push Warren away that kept Gambit from losing it completely.
Ali shrugged. “So. I saw you fuckin’ another woman, Gambit. I don’t think you wanna go comparing wounds.”
To his credit he looked ashamed. “Ali-”
She held up her hand. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard it all before, I’ve heard every single, fucking bullshit lie that you could feed me, and I still don’t want you. We’re done.”
“No.”
“Oh, yes. Done.” She glared at him.
“I love you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do, Ali. I’ve never told anyone dat before, Ali. Not until you. And I know you love me.”
Ali looked away, her jaw clenched. “Yeah, well, you threw that out the window didn’t you. Look, Gambit, I didn’t ask to talk to you so we could talk about this.”
“Den why did you wanna talk t’ me?” He moved to stand in front of her, clenching his hands into fists to keep from touching her. Merde, he missed her. He was such a fuck up.
She turned to face him, looking him square in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”
Gambit was thunderstruck. “Mine?”
SLAP! “Fuck you, you miserable son of a bitch! Of course it’s yours!”
Gambit cradled his face. “Ali, I didn’ mean it like dat! You caught me off guard.”
Ali swung again. Just because the first slap felt so good. Gambit caught her wrist, his eyes glowing into hers. “Chere.” He touched her cheek.
“Don’t touch me.” Ali jerked her hand away from him, shouldering past him to pace the room.
“Petite…?”
“I’m keeping it,” she glared at him, her ocean eyes sparkling. “So don’t even think of suggesting otherwise! I may not be the ideal mother, but I will love this baby. I just wanted you to know. I don’t need you, but you had a right to know.”
“Your goin’ t’ be a wonderful mot’er, Ali,” Gambit’s throat was tight. A bebe. His chest hurt and he could barely breathe.
“I don’t know about wonderful…”
Gambit smiled, a look of longing on his handsome face.
“This changes nothing.” Ali said quietly.
“Dis changes every’in.”
“Please don’t make things hard for me, Gambit. I need to focus on my health and this baby. I can’t be worrying about unwanted advances from you.”
Gambit strode forward. “Der was a time when dey weren’t unwanted.” His voice was low, and seductive and Ali knew he was using his empathic ability to charm her.
“Stop it.” She turned away from him. She felt his hands on her shoulders a moment later, his lips on the nape of her exposed neck. She shivered. “Don’t.”
“Ali…” He kissed her again on the neck. “Je t’aime.”
Ali closed her eyes, fighting the urge to turn and throw herself into his strong arms. Instead she elbowed him as hard as she could. She stalked to the door, yanking it open. “I meant what I said,” she told a wheezing Remy. “I don’t want you any more.”
He straightened. “I love you, Ali, and I’ll prove it.”
“You had a chance to prove it, Rem. All you had to do was say no. Goodbye, Gambit.” Ali closed the door behind her.
Behind her Gambit stood silent in the room they had shared, his chest heaving with emotion. He sat on the bed, burying his face in his hands and for the first time in many years, he cried.
Ali leaned her head on the cool wood, hearing Gambit’s quiet sobs and fighting against the near overwhelming desire to open the door and soothe him. She turned away, slowly descending the narrow staircase, wishing that so many things could be different, yet knowing that wishing wasn’t going to change a thing.

Headmaster’s Office

“..And that’s all the information we have currently.” Nick Fury stood in front of Xavier’s desk, two armed soldiers behind him. Wolverine was leaning against the back wall, listening intently to what Fury was saying.
“And you believe this Dr. Cornelius is in Japan?”
“Yes. I trust my sources.”
“Yer sources have blown smoke up yer ass before,” Wolverine pointed out. “Could be a dead end.”
“I would think you’d be more excited about this. This is the first solid lead we’ve had in months regarding Weapon X and since Wraith’s disappearance, which once again I am sure you know nothing about, it is all we have to go on.”
Wolverine shrugged. “Takes a lot more than a half ass lead on a shady doctor ta get me excited, Fury.”
“Never used to.”
“Maybe I’m maturing,” Wolverine said with a smirk.
“Uh-huh.” He tossed the file onto Xavier’s desk. “That’s the intel. Take it, use it, burn it, I don’t really much care. Just thought I’d bring it by.”
“Out of the kindness of yer heart I imagine.” Wolverine straightened. “What is it ya want, Fury?”
Instead of answering Logan directly, the tall man turned to Xavier. “There’s a mutant situation brewing in Japan as well. Apparently a young mutant has taken it upon himself to ‘clean the streets’, inciting several clan wars.”
“What do you care? It’s not like you t’ give a rat’s ass about any land that doesn’t belong ta Uncle Sam, now anyway.”
“Because we owe Sunfire.”
Wolverine stiffened at the name.
“I see that got your attention.” Fury noted. “I need the situation dealt with. Quietly. I don’t want the kid hurt, but he needs to be stopped. And quickly.”
“Are you asking for Wolverine?” Charles inquired, stroking the cat on his lap.
“Officially, no.”
“Unofficially?”
“Him and Psylocke.”
“Who the hell is Psylocke?”
“That was Betsy’s codename in England.” Xavier explained.
“Hnh.”
“I need an answer in the next thirty seconds. You’ll leave immediately.”
Wolverine scowled. “No.”
Fury blinked his one eye. “A heli- what?”
“No.” Wolverine shook his head. “I’m tired of chasin’ my past. Weapon X is done, and that’s good enough fer me.”
Both Fury and Xavier looked shocked.
“If that’s all ya need from me, Chuck, I got better places ta be.” He walked towards the door.
Fury‘s voice stopped him mid stride. “You owe it to Mariko to help Sunfire.”
Wolverine froze, turning slowly his upper lip curled. “Start talkin’.”
“On the copter.”
Wolverine growled. “I ain’t some sort of attack dog you get ta bait and send on a merry chase, Fury. Talk.”
“On the copter.” The general crossed his arms.
Wolverine looked ready to refuse again when he caught the sweet scent of vanilla and sandalwood a few seconds before the door opened and Ororo stepped into the office. She walked to his side and stood facing Xavier and Fury. “Gentlemen.”
“Storm?” Logan gave her a questioning look. She tapped the side of her head letting him know that Xavier had contacted her.
Fury gave her an assessing look, understanding why Wolverine would be attracted to her. The woman exuded power. She met his solitary gaze unflinchingly, her chin tilted slightly, as though assessing him as well. He had seen Ororo Munroe a few times over the past year, but had yet to meet her in person. “Miss Munroe,” he greeted.
“Mrs. Howlett,” Wolverine corrected with a slight snarl. She had taken his real name during the renewal ceremony, leaving no one to question the legality of their union.
“Of course.”
“If you will excuse us, General, Charles.” Ororo nodded to both men, taking Logan’s hand. She gestured with her head that he follow her.
The General opened his mouth but the Professor spoke softly, “If you want him with you, let her talk to him.”
Outside the office in the hall Ororo wrapped her arms around Logan, pressing her lips to his, catching him by surprise as her tongue slid past his lips, drawing him into a deep and intoxicating embrace. With a growl, he closed his arms around her, one hand at the small of her back, the other tugging her white locks. She pulled back slightly, her eyes hazy with passion.
“You can go if you want to,” she whispered. “I’ll understand.”
“’Ro. I ain’t leavin’ ya.”
“Logan. What aren’t you telling me?” Ororo asked, leaning into his embrace.
He sighed. He should know he couldn’t hide things from her. “The mutant that Fury wants me ta settle is connected ta Mariko.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “She’s alive?”
He shrugged, appearing indifferent, but the hard set of his jaw said otherwise. “Don’t know.”
“I think that’s something we should definitely know.” she stated. “How did you find out?”
“I called Shiro Yashida.”
“And…?”
“And he wasn’t too happy ta hear from me. Apparently thinks the world’s a better place without me.”
“And Mariko?”
“He didn’t say one way or the other.”
“Hm.” She looked thoughtful.
“Ororo, I ain’t goin’.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I need ta be here with you. I ain’t gonna be away from ya, especially not now.”
“Okay. I’ll come with you.”
Logan shook his head. “Uhn-uh. No way, darlin’.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz yer pregnant with my kid, that’s why not.”
“Pregnant, yes. Disabled, no.”
“’Ro…”
“Logan.” She gave him an exasperated look. “You want to go, I can see it. So go.”
“But-” She silenced him with another kiss, searing all thought from his mind.
“I love you.” she murmured into his mouth. “But you will never be content if you don’t know your past, and you may regret not going later. Please, Logan. I don’t want you to resent me.”
“Never happen, darlin’.”
“It could, and I can’t live with that. Now, march back in there and tell Patchy the Pirate you’re going.”
Logan gazed at her, at once both loving and fierce. He pulled her tight against him. “I don’t deserve ya.”
“So you keep saying,” she laughed softly.
Wolverine was gone within the next fifteen minutes, and Ororo waved him off and blew kisses until the helicopter was out of sight.
“This is killing you isn’t it?” Ali asked from the steps.
Ororo kept waving, a bright smile plastered on her face. “Oh yeah.”
Ali sighed. “What a pair we are.”
“Yep.”
“Damn.”
“And shit.”
“Wanna go halves on a pint of Ben&Jerry’s?”
“No.” Ororo turned, the copter gone from sight. She walked up the stairs, her and Ali strolling into the mansion, arms linked. “I want a whole one.”

Night

~~~

Kitty yawned, flicking through the channels on the television. Nothing on. Three hundred plus channels, and nothing on. Depressing. She tossed the clicker onto the small coffee table with a sigh.
“Something troubling you, Kitty?”
Kitty turned, surprised. “Kurt. Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I can be very quiet.” He grinned at her, white teeth on blue fur. “Can you?”
Kitty raised startled eyes when he reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Can you?” he repeated.
“Uh, can I what?”
“Be very quiet?” his breath tickled her ear and Kitty gasped as she felt his tail curve around her leg.
“Kurt?”
“Surely you aren’t surprised, Kitty. You must know how much I want you.” He licked her. Licked her!
“Uhhh…”
“Shh.” He tightened his hold. “Quiet, Kitty. Not a peep now.” Kurt lowered his head, yellow eyes glowing in the shadows of the room. Kitty gasped at the touch of his lips to hers. They had kissed before, several times, but never like this, never with so much raw hunger coursing between them. She felt his tongue gently nudge against her teeth and she obediently opened her mouth on a moan, letting him in to plunder her.
Kitty was in heaven. He tasted sweet and spicy, and felt incredible. He trailed slow, lingering kisses along her neck, nibbling and nipping. He sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth and she shuddered.
Impatiently she grabbed his white shirt, and suddenly it was gone, and then she was touching his blue furred muscular chest. It was so soft and sleek, yet hard and male. Kitty trembled. “Kurt…?” she whispered.
“No words,” he said into her neck. “Touch me.”
“Oh…” She trailed her hands over him, delighting in the feel, the sensation. She flicked her thumbs over the nipples slightly concealed in his fur. He moaned, his hips bucking into her.
“I want to touch you, leibling. Everywhere.”
His three fingered hands were cupping her breasts and Kitty’s eyes shot open. When had she taken off her shirt? And how in the hell had they gotten on the pool table? And was that what she thought it was poking into her thigh…? She lost her train of thought as he flicked her nipples with his tongue. “Spread your legs,” he instructed, making her ache. A strange throbbing began and she felt herself become moist.
She seized Kurt’s hair as he licked a trail of wet kisses over her chest and down her stomach. What was he doing? Hey! Where was he…Oh my!!
Kitty lifted herself against his tongue. Her fingers tightened and released compulsively with the licks against her sensitive skin. She felt pressure building, building, ohhhh …ohhhh…”KURT!!!”
***

Kitty screamed as she phazed through her bed, then the floor, landing with a hard thud against the kitchen table, knocking over several chairs.
The kitchen lights flickered on and in the door stood and iced up Bobby and a curious looking Jubilee.
“What the heck, Kitty?” Bobby demanded looking around.
“Sorry.” Kitty straightened, quickly sitting up and pulling her long tee shirt down. “Had a…dream,” she mumbled.
“Mondo bizarre way to wake up from a dream,” Jubilee smiled, winking.
Kitty glowered at her.
*BAMF*
“I heard someone scream my name!”
“Oh, that would be madam grace over there,” jubilee provided. “She had a…dream.”
Kitty’s look was comical, horrified and entranced. “Uh, hi, Kurt.”
“Kitty.” He helped her from the table. “Are you hurt?”
She was about to reply in the negative when Kurt lifted her into his strong arms. “Do you need assistance?”
“Uh, yeah. I think I sprained my ankle.” Kitty said with a weak smile.
Jubilee frowned. “Hey, Elf. I gotta hangnail that I guarantee hurts more than Kit-Kat’s ‘sprained’ ankle. Wanna carry me to bed. Maybe tuck me in?”
Bobby grabbed her hand, marching her from the room. Kitty could hear Jubilee’s laughter floating back to them.
“Thanks.” she whispered to Kurt.
“No problem, Kitty. What are friends for?”
Not the kind of things you were doing in my dream, she thought, but remained silent, pressing her head into his shoulder. *BAMF*

~~~~
“Uhhn. Merde. You’re so tight.” Gambit was sweating, the red in his eyes glowing against the black in the dark. He pushed deeper, losing himself in her tightness, holding her close. “Je t’aime, Ali.”
“I love you, Etienne. I do. I’m so sorry of I pushed you away.” She pulled him closer, her hips arching off the mattress to meet his hard strokes. Gambit closed his eyes.
“Faster!! Fuck me faster!” Legs like a vise closed around him and his eyes shot open. Beneath him Betsy Braddock was squeezing her own breasts as he pounded into her.
No! This isn’t what he wanted. He closed his eyes, chanting in his head: Ali, Ali, Ali… When he opened his eyes, it was Ali’s aqua marine depths staring up at him, but there was no love in them, only bitterness and betrayal.
“How could you?” she demanded. “You touched her like this. Like you touched me. How could you, Rem?”
“Alison. I’m sorry,” he tried to pull her to him, but she sifted through his fingers like sand. Everything went dark and then he saw streams of light, bright and colorful. Ali. Gambit looked around. He was in a dark hallway now, walking towards the light, toward the only woman he’d ever loved. As he got closer he heard her voice, Deep and husky, slightly raspy like when they made love or after she sang. There was a door separating them and he pushed against it, only to find it near impossible to open. He pushed, laying his shoulder into the door, gritting his teeth. He needed to get to her…
“Ahhh, War. Oh, my God. You feel so good. So damn goooood.”
Gambit froze. No! NOnononoNO!! He peered through the slight crack in the door he’d made and inside the room, Ali was astride Warren, moving on him in ecstasy. Her dark head was thrown back, her pert breasts in Warren’s golden hands. The angel smiled at him over Ali’s shoulder.
“She’s incredible. Taste’s like the finest bourbon.”
Gambit exploded, slamming himself into the door over and over again. ALI!! ALI!! ALLLIIIIII!!!

***
Gambit sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, Ali’s name on his lips. He stood, moving out onto the balcony, needing the air, feeling like he was going to be sick. He gazed at the dark sky, running one hand through his damp hair. He needed a cigarette.

~~~

The garden was beautiful with several flowers that he had never seen before. He had come here for the solitude. Wanting to get away from the commotion in the house, the talks of war and further bloodshed. Not that those things bothered him, quite the opposite, but tonight he wanted space and he had felt a call in his heart, telling him to go to the garden. She would be there. Waiting for him.
He stepped through the archway and she rose, elegant and graceful, a soft smile on her face.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean ta disturb ya. Just wanted some peace.”
“Don’t we all,” she said softly, her voice like soothing music over him.
He approached her slowly, cautiously, as if she were a timid creature, skittish and ready to bolt. “I’m called Wolverine.”
“That is a name?”
“No. Not really, not between friends.” He watched her pick a white flower, holding it reverently. She was so at ease, peaceful. The moonlight cast soft shadows on her beautiful face. His heart skipped. “I’m Logan.”
“Logan.” she tried it out. He liked the way it sounded. “Is a nice name.”
“Thanks.” He waited patiently. She rose, walking along the stone path towards the house. She cast him a shy smile over her shoulder. “I am Mariko. It was a pleasure to meet you, Logan-san.” She slid the door open, pulling it quietly shut behind her.
“Same.” He sat on the boulder she had occupied, it was still warm from her body. He touched the white flowers she had held so reverently and smiled. She was gentle and quiet and demure. Frail and delicate, like the flower in his hand. Logan looked back at the closed door and crushed the flower in his hand ruthlessly.

***
“Wake up, Wolverine. We have arrived.” Betsy was nudging his shoulder.
“Huh?” Wolverine sat up, wiping one hand down his face.
“We’re here,” she repeated.
Stepping off the plane Logan was assaulted by feelings of trepidation like none he had ever felt before and immediately he thought of Ororo.

~~~

Blood. Oh, Goddess, there was so much blood. This wasn’t natural was it? There shouldn’t be that much blood? Should there?
“Hang on, darlin’.”
“Logan?” she looked around, but he was nowhere to be found. “Logan where are you? I…I need you.”
Pain. Tearing through her body. Tearing her apart. Oh, Goddess!!
“AAAHHH!!” She arched in agony.
“I told you,” Hank was standing over her, twirling his spectacles between his thumb and forefinger. “Now it is too late.”
“Ororo.”
“Logan!!” So much pain.
“Hey, darlin’.” He was beside her now, rubbing her moist forehead. She sobbed up at him.
“It hurts,” she cried.
“Oh, I know.” He smiled gently. “It’ll all be over soon.” -SNIKT-
“Logan…?”
A quick flick of his wrist and her womb was wide open. “LOGAN!!”
He pulled her son from her womb, a smile on his face. “Wanna meet yer mama, little guy?”
Ororo held out her arms, but Logan was walking away from her. Walking towards a slender dark haired woman in a long robe, her beautiful face alight with joy as Logan handed her Ororo’s baby.
“No!! Give him back. He’s ours, Logan. LOGAN!!”

***
Ororo rolled over, cradling her stomach. “Just a dream,” she muttered. That was the last time she ate an entire pint of KarmelSutra ice-cream again. She pulled Logan’s pillow against her and breathed in his familiar loved scent. She struggled against the tears building. She knew he loved her, knew they were meant to be, soul mates and she knew he would never hurt her. He would never betray her. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream.

Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Boathouse/ Early morning

Ororo clutched the rim of the toilet, her stomach heaving the very last of its contents into the pot, a wet sacrifice to the porcelain god of ill humors and drunken nights. She blindly reached up to the sink, grabbing for the washcloth that she had placed there moments ago. She wiped her mouth, shakily rising to her feet. She caught her tortured blue eyes in the medicine cabinet and she shook her head, pushing damp tendrils of hair away from her face, and off of her forehead. “Keep it together, Storm.” she told her reflection. She ran the tap, soaking the cloth in icy water, wiping her face.
“Storm! You okay in there?” Jubilee’s voice rang through the hall making Ororo wince. Jubilee had been asked--correction, assigned, to stay with her by Logan until he returned from Japan.
Ororo cleared her throat quietly, then hollered back, “Yeah. Just a little morning sickness.”
“Eeeewwww. So no waffles for you?”
Ororo’s stomach rolled in protest. “No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. More for me!”
Taking several deep breaths Ororo straightened. The woman in the mirror stared back with accusing eyes. Liar, she said. As she watched, as though a different person, the woman in the mirror leaned forward, her eyes clouding in pain as a thick stream of crimson flowed from her nostril. Slowly Ororo lifted her fingers to touch her face, wiping the stickiness away. She reapplied the washcloth, muttering, “Just keep it together…”

Japan

Logan puffed the end of his cigar, blowing a cloud of blue gray smoke into the confines of the luxurious limo he and Betsy were traveling in.
“Must you do that?” she asked. She sat opposite him, crossing her toned legs, her black skirt sliding up her smooth thigh. She smirked as she caught the direction of his gaze.
He didn’t reply, instead gazing out the window, cigar firmly clenched between his teeth. Tokyo. The city was huge, mammoth in ways that boggled the mind. Large electronic billboards advertised the latest in technology and apparel. Lights of every conceivable shape and color were lit, flashing in the night. It made Vegas look like a paltry Christmas tree by comparison.
Thinking of Vegas he thought of ‘Ro. He rubbed his wedding band. He missed her already and they had only been apart a day and a half. His mouth twisted in a wry grin. Who would have thought he’d be done in so thoroughly by a woman. Ah, but what a woman…
“Who’s Mariko?” Betsy asked after a long silence.
He snapped his head around, gray eyes narrowed.
“You were moaning her name in your sleep on the plane. Former lover?” She stretched her arms along the back of the beige leather, her suit jacket pulled tight against her chest.
“None of yer business.”
“Hm. I was simply curious. Touchy subject I see.” She twirled a lock of blue-black hair. “From the wood you were sporting I assumed--”
“Bets, I ain’t Gumbo, so keep yer comments, yer flirting and yer hormones in check,” he growled.
She sat up a bit straighter. “ETA?” she asked, pressing the intercom button.
“Ten minutes.” Came the driver’s reply.
“You ready?” she asked, her hand skimming her thigh to double check the holstered gun she had there.
-SNIKT- “Lady, I was born ready.”

Xavier Institute
Front Lawn/Afternoon

Warm sunshine filtered through the trees, casting dotted shadows on the three women occupying the large blanket spread over the lush green grass at the front of the estate.
“Potato salad?” Kitty held out a round plastic container towards Ali and Ororo.
“Sure.” Ali scooped a small amount onto her plate, next to the chicken she had cooked. She licked her spoon with relish, her tongue ring clicking on the silver.
“This is nice,” Ororo commented, tilting her head into the sun, her hair held back by a floppy sun hat, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze that danced along her skin. Kitty had invited both her and Ali to have a picnic with her to celebrate their pregnancies.
Kitty beamed, her cheek dimpling. She crunched a celery stick, layered with peanut butter, chewing enthusiastically. They had been enjoying the sun and relaxing for almost an hour. “Have either of you thought of any names?”
Ali shrugged one white cotton clad shoulder, “Not really. You, Stormy?”
“A couple.” Ororo nodded slowly, reopening her eyes.
“Really? Give,” Ali said, sipping her lemonade and wincing against the tang. “How much sugar did you use, Kit-Kat?”
“Sugar?”
“Never mind.”
Kitty prodded Storm. “Names…” She leaned forward enthusiastically, her honey eyes dancing.
Ororo smiled, holding one hand to her still flat front. “I like Skyeler and Chance.”
Ali nodded and smiled. “Me too. Good choices.”
Kitty took a bite of her salad. “Are you nervous?” she asked both after a thoughtful chew.
“Yes.” Ororo and Ali answered in unison.
A shadow passed and Warren passed a few feet away, walking with Colossus, talking amicably. His wings were bandaged together to keep from further injuring the damage Gambit had done with his charged cards.
“So, what’s the scoop with you and Warren?” Kitty asked Alison quietly.
Ali raised one eyebrow, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. “Nothing. Just friends. I don‘t want or need a rebound boy from Gambit.” She gave Warren a lingering once over. “Although…I could do much worse.”
Storm gave Ali a friendly shove in the arm. “You behave.”
Ali laughed. “Prude.”
“Married.”
“I’m not.”
“She has a point.”
“Kitty, you’re not supposed to encourage this.” Ororo gave Warren a glance. He was rather attractive…if you went for the muscular, tanned, gorgeous Adonis types.
“Uh, Stormy?”
“Hm?”
“Your bleeding.”
“Huh?”
Ali grabbed Ororo’s arm. “Your bleeding.”
“I am? That’s niiiice.” Ororo’s eyes rolled in the back of her head and she crumpled to the blanket, straw hat bouncing fro her head, snow colored hair spilling onto the grass.
“Gambit!” Ali’s response was automatic, calling for the one person Ororo loved as much as Logan. He was there before his name had cleared her throat.
“What ‘appened?” He asked, lifting Storm, careful to cradle her head into his shoulder.
“Her nose started bleeding and she passed out.” Ali was worried, her brow furrowed. “We need to get her to the med lab.”
Gambit was in motion immediately, with Ali and Kitty following. He began murmuring into Storm’s hair, “C’mon, padnat. Wake up, sleepin’ beauty…You be makin’ dis boy nervous.”
“Nnn…” Ororo turned her head into his chest. “L-logan?”
“Non, petite. It be Gambit.”
She clutched his jacket. “Put me down!”
“Non we need t’ get you t’ da medla--”
“DOWN!” she screamed.
Gambit released her and she shoved away from him. “Move away from me!”
“Padnat-?”
“Storm-?” Ali moved forward slowly.
“Uh, guys…” Kitty was looking overhead, clouds swirling and rolling over each other in a an angry fray. “Maybe we should back up…”
Thunder rumbled over head and the sky darkened, the warm afternoon sun blotted out by the building tempest and winds howled, long and deep and mournful. Ororo stumbled, her hair raising as little snippets of electricity coursed through her body. Torrential rain poured from the sky and before anyone had time to blink, white hot lightening crashed to the ground, through Storm’s body, searing the air and scorching the earth. Her ragged scream was the most terrible sound Gambit had ever heard.
It seemed endless, the flashes of white, the screams torn from his sister’s throat, but in a matter of seconds it was over and Storm lay on the ground, smoke rising from her charred flesh, her clothing in tatters. Gambit raced forward, tearing his duster from his shoulders, wrapping it around Storm’s steaming form. He didn’t understand. The elements were Stormy’s to control, how could she be hurt by them? It made no sense.
“Stormy. Chere, please…” Gambit lifted her, wincing as the heat from her body scalded him. She hung limply in his arms, unmoving, not breathing.
“Rem?” Ali was shaking. “Is she…?”
Gambit forced himself to remain calm. He tightened his hold on his sister, calling her name. “Please…”


Japan

Wood splintered, two bodies flying through the once ornate and elegant door like leaden lumps.
“Cripes, Bets. Way ta be subtle.” Wolverine strolled through the broken door, following the stealth clad woman who had single handedly taken out the two guards in front of the Yashida mansion.
“Subtle? Coming from you that’s an almost comical concept.” The glowing blade generated by her telekinetic powers faded and she tightened her ponytail. “Get ready.”
Wolverine crouched low, poised for attack, his body a finely tuned weapon. “I smelled ‘em three minutes ago, darlin’.”
Through the far wall and windows entered dozens of armed protectors of the clan Yashida. Wolverine smirked. “Nice jammies.” He moved quickly, adrenaline pumping through his system. The ninjas countered with years of honed fluidity, but Wolverine knew his body, his abilities, he was primal, and unstoppable force of nature. Against him, they didn’t stand a chance. Forty seconds after the fight began it was over, unconscious men groaning on the floor.
“How many killed?” Betsy asked nonchalantly, watching the action from the opposite doorway.
“None.”
“Injured?”
He looked down. “One…two…all of ’em.”
She grinned. “Storm was right. You are hell on wheels.” Betsy disappeared through the door, her feet not making a sound as she raced along the carpeted hall.
Hell on wheels? The idea of Storm referring to him as such made him grin his feral grin. With a satisfying kick to one of the more mobile of the groaners, he followed Betsy through the door and to the stairs.

New York

Gambit watched in fascination as the charred and blackened skin on Ororo’s arms began to heal, pulling itself together. It was a slower process than when Wolverine did it, but it was happening none the less. “Good.” Gambit breathed. “Someone get da Professor,” he ordered. “Are you all right, Ali?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah. How’s Stormy?”
Gambit shifted her in his arms so that Ali could see her healing herself. She raised questioning aqua eyes to his devil red ones. He shrugged, he had no answer. He hoped Xavier did.
Ten minutes later in the med lab Ororo’s body was almost completely healed, yet she hadn’t regained consciousness. Ali paced the room, chewing her lower lip raw.
“Petite, you ‘ave t’ relax.”
“I can’t.”
“T’ink of da bebe.” Gambit said softly.
Ali gave him a narrow look. “It’s all I think about. I can’t just shut off, okay. I’m worried about Storm.”
“I know, chere. But still-”
“Shut it, Gambit.” Ali snapped. She rubbed her forehead. “Just shut up. You’re working my last nerve, bucko.”
Gambit leaned against the wall, silently studying her. She had a glow about her now. He had always heard tell of pregnant women glowing, but he had never seen it. Until now. Her normally spiked hair hung to her shoulders in various lengths, pushed behind her elfin ears in worried agitation. She fiddled with her black spiked wristband, twisting it around and around while she paced. She was still as enticing to him as ever. Beautiful dark elf, pixie, mischievous troublemaker. His very heart. He kicked himself for the thousandth time as he looked at her. How he could have done what he did… But he had, and he knew why. Because he was a fucking coward. A man used to playing the field, of being in control. Never feeling more than a passing attraction and along comes Ali and plows him over. Makes him feel. Really feel. He cursed under his breath. Fucking idiot, being afraid of loving her. Stupid, fucking idiot--
“Yes, you are.” Ali agreed, catching the last portion of his inner conversation.
The doors to Storm’s room hissed open and Hank stepped out.
“Well?” Ali was practically on top of him.
“She’s resting.”
“Her baby?” Ali asked.
Henry removed his spectacles. “Fine.”
“Thank God.” Ali sighed.
Gambit straightened. “What baby?”
Ali frowned. “Storm’s preggers too.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“’Ow in da world…?”
“I assume her and Wolverine have sex; they are married.”
Gambit shook his head, auburn hair falling into his forehead, making Ali’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside. “I mean, Stormy always t’ought she couldn’ ‘ave kids.”
“I guess she was wrong.” Ali looked at Hank for confirmation. “Right Big Blue?”
A brief hesitation before, “Right.” He tucked his glasses in his lab coat pocket. “If you both will excuse me, I have to check on…something.”
Ali watched him go. “Is Beasty acting weird to you?”
“You’re asking me if da big blue furry mutant dat speakes in words so complex I geta ‘eadache jus’ t’inkin ‘bout dem and can climb a wall in less den a second is actin’ weird?” Gambit shrugged. “Definitely.”
“Do you want to go in first?” she asked.
“I don’ see why we can’t go together.”
“I don’t think so , Slick.”
“For a girl dat hates nicknames you use dem an awful lot.”
Ali didn’t reply. She gave him a slanted look. “There are other names I want to call you, Gambit. None of them pleasant.” She walked through the doors without a backward glance.
Gambit swore again, a string of Cajun curses. There were other names she did call him, once upon a time. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening as he heard her whispered voice in his ear, “Yes, Etenne. Je t’aime.” His hands clenched in tight fists. She was his, they were meant to be. He wasn’t giving up.

Japan

Silver blades whistled through the air, narrowly missing Wolverine as he spun and leapt, flipping over the newest round of attackers, his feet connecting with keen accuracy to each attacker, rendering them useless in moments.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Betsy asked with a mild smile.
“No.” He sniffed the air.
“Well?”
“Clear.”
They moved as a unit through the shadowed hall way, checking each room they passed for occupants. None to be found.
“A house this size, only occupied by ninjas. Seems a bit fishy.” Betsy commented.
“Yep.”
“You are quite the conversationalist.” she smirked.
“Ain’t here ta talk.”
Suddenly the wall beside them burst into flames and a voice said in crisp Japanese, “[Leave this place, intruders. Or face the wrath of Sunfire!]”
Wolverine grinned feral. “Just the punk we were lookin’ fer.”
Another fireball crashed into the house, sending Betsy reeling. Wolverine roped his arm around her waist, tossing himself out the second story window, pulling her with him.
-SNIKT- He braced her with one arm and dug his claws into the wood with his free hand, slowing their descent to the ground.
Betsy landed with feline grace, flipping into a fighting stance, psi-blade poised and ready.
Wolverine landed in a crouch, prepared for battle. Streams of fire shot across the sky, rocketing towards the two X-Men. “Where the hell is he?” he shouted to Betsy.
“I think he’s airborne. I can’t see him.”
“[Looking for me?]” A large fireball punched Wolverine in the back, sending him soaring across the yard, rolling and burning. The smell of scorched flesh heavy in the air. With a groan he levered himself up and glared at the man hovering a few feet away in a red and white costume and mask.
“Nice costume, Bub.”
“[This is not a costume. This is a uniform!]”
“Yeah, well a couple of kids trick or treatin’ last year had the exact same ‘uniforms’.” Wolverine’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“[You mock me at your peril!]” Sunfire bellowed, blasting another set of plasma fireballs at Wolverine.
Wolverine evaded easily, his movements carefully controlled as he watched Shiro. He could feel a stirring in his mind, like a lingering though that would not go away. Memories trying to resurface. “Word is you’ve become vigilante, Sunfire and need to be brought down.” he growled.
“[It will take more than the likes of you, stranger.]”
Wolverine smirked. Betsy had moved along the house, undetected by Shiro and she was now climbing the lattice work, moving into a better attack position.
“[I doubt it. From what I hear you‘re all piss and no vinegar.]” Wolverine argued in flawless Japanese. Just a little closer, Betsy…
“[Insignificant fool!]” Sunfire spouted, angered. He drew back to launch another attack and caught Betsy’s motion out of the corner of his eye. He whirled, shooting flames at her, causing her to leap prematurely and fall towards the ground.
Wolverine raced forward, launching himself off of the ground and catching Betsy mid-fall, rolling with her on the ground.
“Nice catch,” she smiled up at him from the flat of her back. Her eyes widened. “Behind you!”
Wolverine rotated quickly -SNIKT- claws slicing through the fire ball aimed at his back, flames licking his arms and sideburns. He growled, angrily.
“Hold on!” Betsy used her telekinesis to launch him into the air at Sunfire. The younger mutant looked startled, too late realizing that three hundred pounds of adamantium laced fury was barreling down upon him. Wolverine connected with a solid thud, knocking Shiro to the ground and landing a solid punch to the Japanese mutant’s covered face.
“Wolverine.” Betsy gripped his arm. “Look.”
All around the Yashida mansion and along the walls, archers stood poised to fire. Hundreds of them. Wolverine growled.
“Shh.” Betsy said. “You may be able to survive being a pin cushion, but I assure you I am not quite so fortunate.” She bowed as a symbol of greeting and respect, all the while her eyes on the shadowed figure approaching through the darkness behind the trees.
Wolverine straightened, keeping one foot firmly planted on Shiro’s throat.
“Remove your foot from Sunfire’s body.” The large man approaching commanded.
“I don’t think so, Bub.”
“Do as you are commanded, or else face the wrath of the Silver Samurai.”
Wolverine’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met?”
The larger man stepped forward, his silver costume glinting in the moonlight. “Hei, Logan-san. And this time you will not be lucky enough to walk away.”

New York

“Hey, girl. You look like hell.”
Ororo smiled weakly from the sterile bed she was laying in. “Thanks.”
Ali sat on the edge of the bed, a concerned frown on her face. “What the hell was that all about, Storm?”
Ororo shrugged. “Hormones.”
“Like hell.” Ali glowered. “I’m pregnant too, girlie, and my powers ain’t all wacked out. Much less hurting me.”
“Everyone is different.” Ororo said, shifting her weight and wincing a bit.
“Is something wrong?”
“You mean aside from the obvious? No, just not comfortable laying in here.”
“Hm.”
Ororo was quiet for a moment. “Any word from Wolverine?”
Ali shook her head. “Nope. Him and Super Slut are still out of satellite link.”
Ororo chuckled.
“You gonna tell me what’s really going on?”
Silence.
“Didn’t think so.” Ali stood, slightly angry. “You may think you can handle everything on your own, Stormy, and who the hell knows, maybe you can. But I can’t, and I need to know that my best friend is all right and not keeping shit from me.”
“I’m fine, Ali,” Ororo said, her blue eyes sincere. “Truly. Just some unexpected complications, but the baby is fine.” Ororo watched as Ali’s features softened and she felt like an ass for lying to her, but the alternative was the truth and she couldn’t risk that …not yet.
“Gambit’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.” Ali said at the door. “Do I let him in?”
Ororo brightened. “Send him in.”
“Yo, playboy. Stormy’s up.” Ali blew Storm a kiss over her shoulder. “I’ll be checking with you later.”
“Okay.” Ororo smiled and waved.
“Padnat.” Gambit strolled in, giving Ali a lingering look as they crossed paths, not going unnoticed by Ororo, who watched the display with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.
“Hello, brother dear,” Ororo chimed in false good humor.
“Why you no’ tell Remy you be ‘avin’ a bebe?” He leaned forward brushing her lips in a chaste kiss.
“I was planning on it. But you’ve been rather elusive.”
“Never too ‘ard for my Stormy t’ find.” he admonished. “You ‘ad me worried. Again.”
She gave a slight chuckle at the genuine disgruntled tone he carried. “Did you think being a big brother was easy?”
“Wit’ you? Never.” He ruffled her silken hair. “Can I?” His hand hovered over her belly.
“Sure. You can’t feel anything yet…”
“Oh, but I can, chere.” Gambit closed his eyes, his hand resting against her. After a moment he grinned and opened his eyes, shiny with moisture. “A boy.”
Ororo cocked her head. “Your empathic ability can tell you the sex of a baby?”
“Not usually, no. But dat definitely be da Wolverine’s son. All chock full o’ attitude already.”
Ororo ran one hand over her stomach, interlacing her fingers with Gambits. “A son. A son will make him happy…won’t it?” she looked uncertain. “It will be enough…?”
Gambit looked confused. “Enough for what, chere?”
Storm refused to meet his eyes. “Just thinking out loud,” she murmured.
‘Uh-huh.” gambit scooted her over, laying down beside her. He tucked her head against his chest and began to talk. About nothing, and about everything. It was good to be with her, his sis, his family.
Ororo smiled, thinking much the same thing. Oh, how she loved her rapscallion brother… Her mind drifted as did her eyes and soon she was asleep, visions of Logan filtering through her dreams. Always close, but ever elusive. She spent the rest of the night asleep, hunting for him in her dreams.

Japan

Wolverine blinked his eyes. He ached like a son of a bitch, his mouth tasting like dried blood. He spit. Sure enough. He pushed himself up with one hand, pulling several arrows from his body. Goddamn archers. He looked around. He was in a stone cell, shackled to the wall, a small cot in one corner and an open hole for a latrine in the other. Cozy.
He stood, scenting the air. No trace of Betsy. No trace of…wait. He tilted his head. Something familiar. Soft and feminine and familiar. He strained towards it. Vague stirrings in his mind, a fleeting sound of laughter. He closed his gray eyes, concentrating. Warm brown eyes, pale skin, fragile and delicate. He opened his eyes, a mournful growl in his throat. He knew that scent. Mariko.

Japan

Wolverine tugged the shackles around his arm. They clanked like steel and he smirked. They thought they could bind him with steel? -SNIKT- Chains fell to the floor and he moved to the bars. With two quick slashes he ‘X’d out a hole in the bars, stepping through it and scenting the air. There it was again, faint and elusive, but there. Mariko.
Wolverine cricked his neck back and forth, popping his joints. Whoever these people were, they knew him. From when he had no idea, but they knew him, which meant he knew them. All he had to do was remember. Yeah, right, Bub. If it was that easy why the hell didn’t ya just do that before?
He crouched low, listening. Trickles of water, a strange whirring sound, hissing, whispers. He moved, low and quick along the stone wall. He kept one hand pressed to the cool rocks, the other trailing behind him, claws extended, ready to go. He followed a narrow, winding staircase, noticing a faint glow coming from the darkened corridor. He sped forward, his feet silent on the ground, approaching the door with uncanny stealth.
“Took you long enough,” a deep voice said from behind the partially opened door.
Wolverine nudged the door open with the toe of his boot, staying hidden in shadow. He peered into the room and froze. On a bed, laying still and sleeping was the woman in his dreams. Her flawless features a little older, but much the same. Tubes ran into her arms, into her nose, the strange whirring and hissing sounds he had heard were coming from the ventilator. He stepped forward uneasily. “M’iko.”
The large man beside the bed stood, the silver of his suit catching the lights from the machines. “Ah, so you do remember her.”
Wolverine shook his head, his dark eyes not leaving the slight form. “Barely.”
“Come in, Logan-san.” The man gestured for him to enter.
Wolverine stepped forward, wary and watchful.
“Ever the hunter, I see.”
Wolverine shrugged. “You seem ta know me pretty well.”
“Obviously not.” The man responded. Wolverine noticed how his right hand rested on the hilt of the katana at his side, deceptively casual. He had a feeling that the man in front of him was a very dangerous enemy.
Wolverine approached the bed. Mariko lay so still, her chest barely rising and falling with the help of the machines. Looking at her made his chest ache. She was indescribably lovely, gentle looking and so very frail. Her dark tresses hung loose around her face, her lips pale against her even paler skin. He glanced at the bedside warrior. “What happened t’ her?”
The man scowled. “You happened.”
Wolverine shook his head. “I don’t remember.” He closed his eyes, breathing her in. Something flickered in his mind. Glimpses of a past that he had no recollection of.
~~~

“[You are home.]”
“[Yes, M’iko.]”
“[You were gone so very long this time. Why can you not tell me where you go?]”
He cupped her cheek. “[It is a side of me I hope you never see, my love.]”
“[I love you, Logan-san.]”
He smiled at her gently. “[I know, Mariko-chan. I know.]”
~~~
“She never stopped.”
Wolverine opened his eyes. “What happened, Keniuchio?”
The man looked startled. “So, you do remember?”
Wolverine was just as surprised by the use of the warrior’s name. “Bits and pieces. Nothing that tells me who the hell you are or she is for that matter.” He paused. “Where’s my companion?”
“The Kunoichi that was with you is safe. She is upstairs enjoying tea with Sunfire.”
Wolverine cocked his head. “You guys attack us, then offer us tea?”
“First, you came looking for us. Second, only she has been offered tea.”
“Right.” he gave the samurai a dark look. “You seem ta know me. Start talkin’.”
“You dare give me orders?”
-SNIKT- “I dare.”
“Did your time here teach you nothing? It is unwise to challenge your betters.”
Wolverine growled.
“I will not dishonor Mariko by engaging you in combat.” Keniuchio said. “Though it would give me great pleasure in removing your head from your shoulders, I made a solemn vow and I intend to keep it.”
At her name Wolverine looked back at the slight woman lying in the bed. “Were she and I married?”
The samurai gave a curt nod. “You were to be wed. The license, the ceremony, the rings. All was taken care of.” Keniuchio gazed down at Mariko. “Then you betrayed us all.”
“How?”
“I can help with this,” Betsy approached from the hallway, Sunfire, obviously drooling, following. Both of her hands began to glow, two small psychic spikes protruding from her fists. “Wolverine?”
He nodded, kneeling.
“Silver Samurai?”
He gave her a long hard look. “If she so much as sneezes, Shiro, take her out.” He knelt beside Wolverine on the floor.
“Agreed.” Sunfire affirmed.
“Well, gentlemen…Nighty night.” Betsy plunged her blades into their heads, linking their minds. She grit her teeth against the psychic recoil, but held firm, locking the two men together.

~~~

The Yashida stronghold was damn near impenetrable, at least that’s what intelligence had been told. Seemed pretty accurate to Logan. He gave the guarded entrance a once over from his vantage cross the street, camera in hand, looking as touristy as was possible for a ruthless killer to look. He snapped a few shots, but he wouldn’t need them, he knew the layout of the mansion already. Mariko had given him the guided tour. He smiled as he thought of her. She was the first woman he could remember he actually liked being around. She was his exact opposite. Slight and frail and gentle and calm. She was lovely and sweet, and the perfect mark. White teeth flashed as he thought how easy it had been to get her to trust him. Just a few garden conversations and a few flowers and she thought he was her dream man. ~More like nightmare.~
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and his and Mariko’s relationship kept growing. Stolen kisses in the hallway, a casual touch of hands at tea, shivers in the moonlight. She was putty to him and willingly gave up the information he needed, unknowingly betraying her family to him. The assassin sent to kill Shingen Yashida, her father. ~Merciless assassin.~
It is in the garden that they shared so many stolen moments that he finds her after he had slain her father. His claws still dripping crimson onto the rocks at his feet. His teeth are bared and he can feel her fear, see it in her eyes. She is terrified of him. He can smell it. It makes him sick. It excites him. ~Beast.~
The word is in the air between them. Her broken cry into his tortured heart. Kill her. Get it over with, get it done. Finish the job. Just a job. He approached her, intent on doing just that when he sees the tears in her eyes. Her broken ‘I loved you’ reaching his ear, though he was certain she hadn’t meant it to. He growled at her to leave, to run and stay hidden. She refuses to move. Honor, she declares. She has it. The insult is obvious. He is a coward that lacks it. It shouldn’t hurt him, but it does. It kills something in him to know she thinks so little of him now. ~Fool.~
He leaves her in the garden, on her knees, weeping for the worthless sod that was her father and for the even more worthless man that she viewed as her husband. ~Bastard.~
Weeks passed and Mariko grew more and more despondent. Her family clan in chaos, fights over leadership and rule. Wars and murders. Chaos and destruction. All set into motion by the murder of Shingen. All caused by Wolverine. ~Monster.~
Mariko sat in the garden, bent forward, as if in prayer, her slender form a silhouette against the white orchids. Silver Samurai approached silently, not wanting to disturb her meditation. After a moment when she remained so still he approached, touching her shoulder. His sister fell to the side, long blade protruding from her stomach. Suicide. For he part in the dishonor of her family. In her hand she clutched the ring she had made for her wedding to Wolverine. Engraved with the name he had her whisper in their most secret moments. But she was not dead, at least not in body. Her heart was blackened beyond repair and her soul screamed for freedom. She was laid in her bed, and moved into the lower portion of the mansion. To all the world Mariko Yashida was dead, slain by the same monster that had killed her father. Rule of the clan fell to her half brother. ~Animal.~
~~~
Wolverine opened his eyes slowly.
Betsy staggered away from him, the look on her face saying it all.
The Silver Samurai stood. “In her last written request she ordered us not to track you. Not to harm you in any way. Claims you followed a warriors path, even though tarnished with betrayal.”
Wolverine was only half listening to the other man‘s ramblings, instead he was staring at the woman in the bed. He remembered her now. It hadn’t all been an act. He had loved her. Had wanted to believe they had a chance at a future, but knew they didn’t. Knew so long as his keepers had him, their was no safe place for her. He also knew she would never accept him. The real him, the feral. He had loved her, truly, but not the way he loved ‘Ro. Not with the same all consuming passion and love and protectiveness. His love for Mariko was a bright candle in the dark. His love for Ororo burned like a thousand suns.
Wolverine stiffened, his nose detecting another presence.
…Ororo… As the room went black, he heard Betsy scream.



New York

Ororo tossed aside the fuzzy blanket she had drug upstairs from the couch, sitting up in the bed. She ran one hand wearily through he white tresses, heaving a deep sigh. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger, feeling decidedly more uneasy tonight than any night since Logan’s departure more than three days ago and still no word. With a small grimace she rose from the bed, padding to the closet and pulling out a sweatshirt and matching pants. She slipped on her white canvas shoes, and went downstairs.
She heard the sounds of faint music, realizing Jubilee had left her radio on again. Ororo smiled faintly. The kid was spunky, all right, and surprisingly Ororo found that she enjoyed having her around.
She left the boathouse through the front door, inhaling the damp night air. The night sounds relaxed her and she tilted her head, eyes closed, listening to the crickets and frogs, the rustle of leaves in the wind and the call of nature.
Ororo made her way along the grass, her sneakers squeaking slightly against the rain dampened blades, following a familiar unmarked path to the woods beyond. She and Logan had taken many moonlit strolls into the woods, holding hands, enjoying the night and each other. She flushed a bit thinking of the last time they had gone for a stroll and the way he had taken her on the ground, so feral and primal in the moonlight. So beautiful. Goddess, she missed him. Unbidden she felt tears sting her eyes. She wiped her eyes with a shaky sigh, making her way to their log. The large hollowed out log that they had sat on together so many times.
She sat slowly, her muscles aching, sore and tender. She knew she was running a fever, but knew she couldn’t tell Hank. He’d try to persuade her to get treatment, and she couldn’t. Not yet. Soon…maybe…
“Evn’in, Padnat.”
Ororo turned, a startled look on her face. “Good evening, Remy.”
Gambit flicked his cigarette aside with his thumb and middle finger. The red centers of his eyes were glowing faintly in the shadows, giving her ample warning that he was upset. “You’re sick,” he accused.
Ororo said nothing.
“Not even gon’ deny it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Gambit glared at her. “It be more den dat, chere.”
Again silence was her only response.
Gambit strode forward, determination etched on his handsome face. “I can feel it now, Stormy. You do a good job in da day, I’m impressed, but now, you be tired and I can feel it.”
“Gambit--”
“How bad?” he interrupted.
Ororo gave him a small sad smile.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
She held her hand out to him. “Come here, Remy.”
Gambit twined his fingers with hers, pulling her into his arms, seating himself behind her. He rested his whiskered chin in her soft hair and inhaled. She always smelled good. Gambit remembered being a teenage boy and teasing her that she always smelled girly. She had tried so hard to work up a sweat and get dirty, to be one of the boys, but somehow she always managed to smell soft and sweet and feminine. “Tell me.”
Ororo shook her head. “You will hound me endlessly won’t you?
Gambit nodded. “Ev’ry day.”
There was a long pause before she spoke, her voice heavy with heartache. “During my and Cyclops’s capture we were interrogated.” She altered her position so that the back of her head leaned into his shoulder. “Mr. Smith injected me with what he called, ‘the cure for your retched kind’.”
“A cure?” Gambit was confused. “For what? Bein’ a mutant?”
Ororo gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t think he meant ‘cure’ in the literal meaning, brother. Whatever he gave me was a virus, a disease of some type.” she took a deep breath. “It’s not good.”
Gambit’s arms tightened around her. “Tell me,” he urged again.
“It’s a disease that is attacking me from a genetic level. It’s disrupting my system.”
“Ah, da loss of control over your powers.” he said softly.
Ororo nodded. “It’s destroying me slowly, from the inside out.” She tried to smile again, but failed.
Gambit kissed the top of her head, hearing the tears in her voice. “Is dat how you are able t’ ‘ave a bebe?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know how exactly. And neither does Henry. His best guess is that Wolverine’s child has a healing factor as well, and is fighting my powers.” she shrugged. “But now that my body is also rejecting my powers it makes the odds of a successful pregnancy that much higher.”
“What did da good doctor say ‘bout you, chere? Is dere medicine or treatment?”
Ororo bit her lip.
“Padnat?”
“There…is.”
Gambit grinned. “Great. Den you’ve already taken care of it.”
“Yes.”
Gambit stiffened. “You jus’ lied t’ me.”
Ororo frowned. Boy, Logan was right, she sucked at lying to those she cared about. “There is a treatment that Hank thinks will help with the disease.”
“Why do I get da feelin’ der’s a big ‘but’ comin’ up?”
“But the medicine and treatment puts the baby at serious risk.”
Gambit was quiet, then, “Der will be ot’er babies.”
Ororo jerked away from him. “You don’t know that. And what makes his life,” her hand cradled her abdomen, “any less valuable than mine?”
Gambit pulled her back into his arms. “What aren’t you telling’ me?”
Ororo pressed her face into his shoulder, tears staining her cheeks. “I can’t…”
Gambit closed his eyes. “You’re not jus’ sick are you? You’re dying.”
“Yes.”
Gambit couldn’t breathe. “What…what about after da baby is born? Den we could get you started on da treatment, den we could--”
Ororo touched his cheek. “Remy.”
He grit his teeth. “Non.”
“Remy. Look at me.”
He opened pained eyes.
“In all likelihood, I won’t make it full term, which isn’t much longer now. I’m farther along than I look. He’s tiny, but a fighter, and I need to help him. I’m giving this child a fighting chance, brother. It’s the least I can do…”
“Stormy…”
“Oh, Gambit.” Ororo felt her walls crumbling, the weight that had been bearing down on her finally breaking her. Her lower lip trembled and teardrops sparkled on raven lashes.
Gambit felt his chin quiver and he knew, knew that this moment was the hardest moment he had ever faced. To try and be strong for her, his baby sister, while all he wanted to do was scream and wail in rage and anguish.
“I’m ‘ere for you, padnat.” Gambit leaned his cheek into her hair.
“I’m glad, Remy…” Ororo closed her eyes.

Undisclosed location

“Wake up.”
Cold water sluiced along his face. Wolverine opened his eyes, the overhead light making him wince. Damn. He had a fucking headache from hell. He pressed his finger tips to the bridge of his nose, fighting to focus.
“You clear headed, Wolverine?” Nick Fury stood in front of him, glaring daggers with his one eye.
“What the fuck, Fury?” Wolverine growled from the seat he was occupying on the jet. “Where the hell am I?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Wolverine noticed the gun in Fury’s hand, his face grim with determination. “What’s goin’ on, Nick?”
Fury scowled. “You’ve been compromised.”
Wolverine scowled back. “Say again.”
“You have been compromised. By an elite team of Japanese assassins known as the Hand. They wiped out the Yashida clan as well as did serious damage to the Yakuza and several other smaller clans. ”
Wolverine shook his head. “No…I was just there.” He frowned. The smell of gas, flames, Betsy screaming… “Where’s Psylocke?”
“Psylocke is being detained for questioning. It was her that pulled your ass out of the flames.”
“Sunfire? Silver Samurai?”
“MIA.”
Wolverine swallowed. “Mariko?”
Fury looked away. “No.”
“I see.” Wolverine ran a hand through his hair. “Did you know?”
“About you and her? Yes.”
“Hnh.”
“I owe you a few. So, I’ve removed any traces of you from the Yashida house.”
Wolverine acknowledged this with a grunt.
“General Fury, ETA is ten minutes.”
“Thank you.” Fury answered the messenger without turning. “Psylocke has resigned with SHIELD. I suppose it would be too much to assume you are doing the same.
Wolverine thought of Ororo. “I’m goin’ home ta my wife.” His only.
Fury smirked a little. “With a wife like that. Don’t blame you.”

Xavier Institute
Boathouse
Dawn

“Hey, kiddo.”
Jubilee groaned groggily, rolling over to peer up at the man standing above her in jeans and leather coat. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes.
“Wolvie?” she whispered.
“Yeah, pumpkin. Whatchya doin’ on the couch?”
Jubilee sat up, yawning. “Iwokeupcouldn’tfindSormwantedtowaitforher.”
Wolverine tensed, his voice a soft growl. “Couldn’t find her? Where is she?”
The screen door opened and Gambit strolled in carrying a sleeping Ororo. “She’s ‘ere, homme.”
Wolverine straightened, his heart rate doubling at the sight of his beautiful wife, curled content against Gambit’s chest. Her hands fisted in his shirt, her hair slightly damp and curling around her face. She looked peaceful. He moved towards them, holding his arms out to take her.
Gambit took a step back, pulling Ororo tighter against his chest. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet…
“Gumbo.” Wolverine growled the warning softly.
Gambit strived for a nonchalant smile, “She’s been out like a light for awhile.” He relinquished his hold, two fingers pressing his lips, then hers. “G’night, Stormy.” He cleared his throat and left the boathouse like he was being chased by the hounds of hell.
“What’s up with him?” Jubilee asked, not missing the look on Gambit’s face as he left.
Wolverine didn’t reply, he was staring down at Ororo. He had missed her like nothing else, wanting her near him. He had really wanted her when he had learned he was responsible for Mariko’s condition. He had felt like a monster of the worst kind, and he knew his Ororo would banish the darkness.
“Mmmnn…” Ororo snuggled in his arm. “Must be… dreaming, Remy. I could swear you were Wolverine.”
He bent his head, his mouth brushing her ear. “That’s Logan to you, ‘Ro.”
Ororo opened her eyes, a small gasp escaping her supple lips. He was here. He was home. She smiled, one hand raising to stroke his whiskered cheek, her sky eyes dancing into his dark grays. “Logan,” she breathed.
“Much better,” he rumbled, lowering his head and claiming her lips. She parted for him on contact, their tongues meeting in a duel of love and possession.
“Weeellll…That’s my cue to scoot…” Jubilee grabbed her slicker from the couch, and headed for the door. “No, no, don’t trouble yourselves…I’ll see myself out. Stay? No, wouldn’t want to be a bother…Okay, bye-bye now, bye-bye…” She rambled all the way through the door.
Logan tightened his hold on Ororo, his teeth nipping her lower lip. He growled in longing and she whimpered against his lips. “Logan.” She whispered his name, clung to him. Her slender arms circled his neck and she deepened their kiss.
His body was trembling, she could feel it. She impatiently pushed at his clothes, demanding that he be rid of them, needing to feel him against her. Her own clothes felt suddenly heavy and burdensome. Logan walked with her in his arms up the stairs, his mouth never leaving hers. He lowered her to the bed, both of them stripping each other hurriedly, a blend of restless hands and fiery kisses until they lay naked before each other.
He felt so good, so right in her arms. She nestled closer, wanting to crawl inside of him, wanting him buried deep inside of her. Logan trailed hot kisses along her neck and down over her collar bone, taking one chocolate nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. Ororo tangled her fingers in his dark hair, arching her back, moaning his name.
“Fuck, I love how ya say my name,” he groaned. He gripped her hips firmly in his hands, and for a moment contemplated the wonder that was the woman before him. Firm muscles, and soft skin, caramel skin and snow white hair, the smoldering sexiness of her sapphire eyes, the rose petal softness of her lips. He trailed one hand along her body, curving against the new swell of her stomach. He smiled. A baby. Their baby. Nestled right here, another tie that bound her to him for eternity. She was such a miracle to him, such a beautiful blend of light and goodness, and for a moment tears shimmered in his eyes before he could blink them away.
Ororo saw them and pulled him to her, kissing him with wild abandon, reminding him that she was also a creature of the night, as wild and hungry as he was. His other half. His hands tightened possessively on her tight bottom, pulling her against his hardness. Her heat beckoned him, called to his inner animal, her wild scent intoxicating, driving him mad with lust and longing.
His body was hard and aggressive, pushing her into the soft cushion of their mattress, his hands parted her silken thighs, wrapping her long limbs around his waist. His teeth grazed her neck, her name a ragged growl/groan as he slid into her tight velvet sheath. He pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was raw and aching. She shuddered against him, and he smirked. Goddamn, she felt good. So hot. So tight. His.
Ororo moved her mouth over the muscled wall of his chest her tongue flicking against his skin, tasting, urging. She caught one of his nipples between her lips, rubbing her teeth back and forth over the tight nub, making him jerk. Flames licked along her body as he pressed himself fully into her, holding her tight, rocking slowly. Ororo bit his neck, a tiny nip, but a mark just the same and her name burst from his lips in a hoarse plea. Ororo smiled, her pearly teeth sinking into the corded muscles between neck and shoulders, claiming him.
Logan was blinded by searing pleasure. Holy fuckin’ Christ. She had just marked him. He growled, thrusting harder, his own teeth sinking into her shoulder. He heard thunder rumble in the distance, the rolling sound coming closer with every passing second. He felt the sting of her nails across his back, felt her body clench around him. He heard his voice shout hoarsely, unable to stay silent. He buried one hand in her hair, locking eyes with her, the other curved around her buttock, pulling her tight as he thrust over and over. The deeper he drove the more she responded, the wilder she became, her body gripping him and releasing him, excruciatingly erotic…
“Logan. I love you.”
He flashed her a smile. “I love ya, too, baby.” He grabbed her wrists, locking them over her head, stretching her so that he could have undeterred access to her flawless breasts. She cried out when he brushed the very tip of his tongue over her taut peaks, making her quake with need. Logan responded by burying himself deeper, riding her harder.
“Logan, please…” Ororo felt her body coiling tighter and tighter. “I can’t take it, please. Please,” she begged for release.
His mouth moved over her throat, his teeth nipping, his tongue soothing. He trailed kisses along her chest, along every inch of exposed flesh. She tried to free her arms so that she could pull him to her, to hold him, but he held her fast. He thrust deeper, the lines on his face etched with indescribable hunger. The wildness was on him now, and he was raw heat and need. He rode hard, surging into her over and over, making her whimper and sob with pleasure.
“Just like this, ‘Ro. Always like this,” he surged harder. “I want ya so much. I need ya, darlin’. So wild and hungry, that ya can’t think.” He lavished her breasts with another series of kisses, pulling on them hungrily. He was so hard and thick, swollen with need for her. He felt her tightening around him, heard her cry out as her climax overtook her and she exploded, shock after shock ripping through her as she rode out the endless orgasm he had brought her to.
“Ahhhh, Goddess, Logan. I never want this to end…” She was crying now.
He kissed her tears, licking them from her cheeks, still moving, nuzzling her throat. “I want ya like this, crying out fer me, needing me ta release ya. Pleading with me ta end this, but never wanting it ta stop.”
Lightening slammed the ground outside the boathouse, the winds rattling the windows, thunder booming and echoing as Logan took her completely, staking his claim on her heart and soul. She locked her legs around him, lifting herself into each thrust. His hips pumped furiously, again and again and again. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain as he came, pouring himself into her endlessly, her name roaring from his lips between clenched teeth.
Logan tangled both hands in her silvery hair, kissing her slowly, lingering over her plump lower lip, drugging her with his lazy seduction. “I missed you,” he confessed, still slightly rocking his hips, moving slowly against her.
“I can tell,” she whispered back, smoothing his hair from his brow, her eyes alight with tenderness and love.
Logan shifted his weight from her, pulling her against him so that she lay draped over his chest, her moonlight tresses tickling his sensitive skin.
“How was your trip?” she asked after their breathing had slowed to near normal. Logan sighed, a heavy sigh, and Ororo hugged him. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
He kissed her fingertips. “Not now,” he said. “
“All right.” She lay listening to the steady drum of his heart. Soon she felt his breathing deepen and even out, a soft rumble as he shifted, asleep. Ororo pressed a slow kiss to his slightly parted lips before slipping from the bed.
She padded quietly to the stairs, then down to the kitchen. After downing a glass of cold water Ororo made her way to the bathroom. Her entire body ached, and she knew it wasn’t from Logan’s lovemaking, and she needed a hot bath. She turned the handles, adjusting the temperature. Splotches of crimson splashed on white porcelain. Ororo glanced in the mirror, angrily wiping the blood from her nose. A long bath and some meditation and she would feel better. She ran one hand over her slight swell. “Not much longer now,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, wishing the wistful dreams of a mother that knew she would never know her son.

Logan rolled, reaching across the cool mattress for Ororo only to come up empty. He opened one gray eye, noticing that even her pillow was barely indented. Where ever she was, she’d been gone for awhile. With a frown he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing his hastily discarded jeans from the night before and tugging them on. He moved silently through the boathouse, wondering if she was in the bathroom suffering from morning sickness. He had no idea how long that was supposed to last. Hell, he didn’t even know how far along she was, he’d left with Fury before he could find out.
“’Roro?” he called. The bathroom door swung open easily, and the room was empty. Huh. He glanced at the overhead clock. It was just a little past six, so she was probably outside. Logan made his way outside, along the taller grass of the lake shore, towards the large Oak tree with tire swing that sat behind his and Ororo’s house.
Ororo was floating in the air, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. A gentle breeze stirred her snowy locks, lifting wispy tendrils and dancing with them. He stood in the shadows a few feet away, watching her, unable to move as he was completely arrested by the sight of her. So beautiful. So much a part of nature herself. He was in awe of her ability to control the elements. No other mutant on the planet had that ability as far as he knew. She was unique, even amongst their kind.
The wind picked up and Logan stepped forward, a frown on his face as he noticed how tense she had suddenly become. Lines of strain etched along her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration. He could see tiny tremors coursing through her body. Suddenly her head snapped back, a low sound of distress coming from her, lightening snapping from her fingertips. She dropped the few feet to the ground, her body arcing and tensing.
“’RO!” Logan ran to her, kneeling beside her. She didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes were rolled back in her head, her slender frame jerking with harsh spasms, blood was flowing from her nose in thick trails. Her body wracked so hard it was hard for him to hold her. *CHUCK!*
*Hank is already prepping the lab and Nightcrawler is en route, Wolverine.*
Logan tried to cradle her close to his chest, to keep the spasms contained. He could smell the ozone crackling in the air around them. Building. The wind increased, and the sky darkened into a swirling mass of rolling thunder clouds. “I’m here, baby…” he tried to soothe.
*BAMF*
“You have to let go, Wolverine.” Kurt said gently, reaching for the convulsing Storm in his lap. “I’ll get her to the lab faster without you.”
Wolverine growled, but relinquished his hold. *BAMF*

Med lab

Ororo sat up, rubbing her eyes. She had a splitting headache.
~Welcome back.~
Ororo removed her fingers from her eyes, looking for the source of the voice. ~Charles?~
~You’re giving Wolverine quite a scare.~
Ororo pressed her forehead. ~I’m not awake, am I?~
~No.~
~What happened?~
~Seizure.~
~How bad?~
~It wasn’t pleasant, if tat is what you want to know.~
~You sound strained, Charles.~
~It’s hard to maintain contact when your mind is constantly trying to kick me out.~
~Sorry.~
~Old habits…~
Ororo smiled, remembering the very first day at the institute. ~Old habits.~ She glanced around. She was in the boathouse. ~Why can’t I see you?~
~You are where you are most comfortable. It is a place I do not belong.~
~Oh.~ She closed her eyes, concentrating. When they opened again she was in Xavier’s office and he was seated behind his desk.
~Impressive.~
~Jean’s been helping me.~ She sat in one of the chairs. ~It’s bad, huh?~
~Yes.~
~Will I wake up?~
~…~
~The baby?~
~Feel…~
Ororo closed her eyes again, seeking within herself. Warmth. Peace. Innocence. A fighting spirit. Definitely his father’s son… Ororo gave a startled hiccup sob. Her son.
~How’s Logan?~
~He is furious.~
~When isn’t he?~ She teased.
Xavier chuckled. ~True. You have been a great soothing balm for him.~
Ororo fought the tidal wave of sadness washing over her. ~He’ll need someone…Keep Jubilee near him.~
Charles nodded. ~Henry is prepping the lab now.~
~You’re taking him?~
~It’s the only way.~
~But, it’s so soon.~
~He has a great will to live, Ororo. He will pull through.~
~He’s so small…~
~You are small, Ororo. The baby is relatively healthy.~ Xavier stood. At Ororo’s surprised expression he smiled. ~In the mind I am anything but crippled.~
~Can I…Can I see Logan?~
~Of course. I will bring him to you.~

“She is asking for you,” Xavier said opening his eyes, looking at Logan.
“What the fuck is going on here, Chuck?” he demanded angrily. “What happened while I was gone?”
“Not while you were gone. While she and Cyclops were detained by Weapon X.”
At the name Wolverine’s lip curled back. “What’d those fuckers do ta her?”
“I can explain.” the double doors hissed open and Beast strode through, wheeling an IV stand and monitor. “Storm was infused with a virus that I breaking her down on a cellular and genetic level.” Beast slid the pole beside Ororo’s head, hooking the monitor up to her arm. “In essence this virus is attacking her body, eating at her.”
Logan’s hand tightened on Ororo’s. “So what’d we do?”
Beast looked away.
“Ya’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!!” Wolverine exploded. “We can save the goddamn world from destruction, take out the most powerful mutant fucks on the planet, save yer furry ass with illegal medical practices, save norms that hate us, want us dead so bad they have fuckin; committees, but we can’t save the one person on this worthless rock worth saving?” He was panting, his teeth bared in a look of savage anger.
“We wanted to help her, Wolverine.” Beast said softly. “She refused.”
“What?!?”
“The treatment put her pregnancy at great risk,” Xavier explained.
Wolverine wanted to throw something. He glared at Ororo. How could she make that decision without talking to him? He growled, “Take me in. And then get the fuck outta the way.”

~Ororo.~
Ororo lifted her head from the cloud she was resting on. ~Logan.~
~How could ya, darlin’?~
~I had no choice.~
~You should’ve talked ta me.~
~You had enough to deal with.~
~Don’t do that, Ororo. We’re supposed to be married. Together.~
Ororo narrowed blue eyes, a flicker of anger in their depths. ~Like you tell me everything.~
~I have never kept life threatening information from you! You seem ta make a fuckin‘ habit of it!!~ He was pissed.
~Logan…~ she whispered his name.
He closed the empty space between them pulling her into his arms, lifting her. He was trembling, she could feel it, all of his anger dissolving the moment they touched. She lifted her face and saw stark terror reflected in his black depths. He pressed his mouth to hers. ~Ya can’t leave me, ‘Ro. I need ya.~ He tightened his thick arms around her.
~I know. I know.~ She pressed closer. “I’m sorry, Logan. So sorry.~
~Don’t say that, ya never have ta be sorry fer wanting ta save our baby.~
The air around them crackled, the white fluffy clouds swirling and darkening.
~I need ya here with me.~ His mouth moved over hers again with a mixture of fear and rising desire. ~Ya can’t leave me alone, I need ya ‘Ro. I need ya so damn much.~
~I don’t want to leave you.~ She was crying, her hands sliding under his shirt to touch his solid chest. It was all in her head, she knew, but if this was all they had, she wanted to embrace it. Whips of lightening flashed and thunder cracked and boomed. She circled his neck with her arms, taking comfort in his shoulder. He was hurting, she felt it radiating from him, deep and intense, along with the terror gripping his soul. She lifted her face into his for a kiss, wanting to comfort and be comforted. He took possession of her mouth and the heavens opened up, drenching their suddenly bare flesh.
Logan was consuming her, devouring her, his mouth everywhere, licking up the rain on her bare skin. It took Ororo a moment to realize that he was still enraged, the terrible ferocity of the storm raging around them was his doing, reflecting the blackness of his mood. In her mind they were linked, sharing everything.
~I need ya ta stay with me, angel. Fight fer me. Without ya I have nothing, no reason ta live.~
~Our son.~ was her whispered reply.
Logan closed his eyes. ~I need ya.~ he repeated. He lifted her against him. ~Put yer legs around my waist.~ His teeth scraped her frantic pulse. ~Right now!~
Ororo obeyed almost blindly, enveloping his hard body with her softness. His hunger was intense, the psychic storm increasing in intensity, a good indication of his emotional turmoil. He rocked into her, deep and aggressive.
~You can’t leave me alone to live in this empty world, with no light. No laughter.~ His mental voice was raw.
Ororo clutched his head. His hair was soaked, thick ebony strands hanging in his eyes. He looked wild and untamed, he looked what he was; dangerous. Ororo sobbed. The thought of never being with him again tore at her. She clung to him, driven by a mind numbing urgency to meld with him. The storm intensified, lightening slashing through their bodies, but doing no harm, only heightening their feelings. Tears were streaming down her face, strangled sobs wracking her as she clung to him.
His arms were like steel, holding her tight as he took her aggressively, yet his mouth moved on hers so heartbreakingly tender she was assailed by a fresh bout of tears.
~Please, don’t cry, baby. Please.~ His hips moved with the fierce intensity of the storm. ~I can’t bear it when ya cry.~
Jagged bolts of lightening danced overhead. ~I love you, Logan. I love you so much. I love you.~ She held him close. She felt him tremble and shudder, felt his tears in her mind, heard the mournful howls of agony he was keeping locked inside. She covered his face with kisses and held him like she was never going to let him go, but that was a lie. She was going to have to leave him…
~I ain’t letting’ ya go.~
~I’m sorry.~ She kissed him softly, opening herself completely so that he could feel everything she felt for him.
Logan staggered under the emotions she let him see and feel. God, she loved him so much. He could feel it and it humbled him. He clutched her to him, burying his fingers in her sodden tresses, squeezing her like he could keep her locked to him.
~I love you.~ Blinding white light.

“ORORO!!” Logan roared.

Warm breeze danced in the tall reeds and long lakeside grass, the crickets singing their sweet life song into the dusk. Logan leaned his black tee shirt covered back against the rough bark of the oak tree that was currently being used as a makeshift chair. He shifted position, lifting the small bundle in his arms a bit higher, once again marveling at the deep gray eyes so much like his own. The baby blinked up at him, one hand swinging aimlessly in the air, a disgruntled coo coming from the tiny bundle as if in protest of the disturbance his father’s movement had caused.
“Ya’ve got yer Pappy’s temper.” Logan chuckled.
“Great. Like we need two of ya,” Jubilee teased from her position on the tire sing. This had become their nightly ritual over the past few months. Walking to the oak, watching the sunset behind the horizon, welcoming the blanket of evening and watching the stars. Logan would rumble stories to his son, naming constellations, telling tall tales and always, always telling him of his beautiful mother. Tonight, instead of just the three of them as it had been, Jubilee had invited the others to join them.
“Two of who?” Ali asked, waddling towards them, Remy in tow.
Wolverine smirked at the sight of her. Ali was huge, her belly protruding out so that it was hard for her to walk at times, and only five months along, but he supposed twins would do that to a person. She and Gambit had reconciled over Storm, both realizing how short and fragile life was. She looked like a punked out blimp.
To Remy Ali had never looked more beautiful. She glowed with an inner light. Her normally spiked hair, grew quickly, and was a deep ebony wave to her shoulders, her aqua eyes were always alight and she smiled frequently. He remembered well the day she had decided to give him another chance.

***
The hall was empty when Gambit had stepped out of Storm’s room, he had been in that room for the better part of two hours, saying his goodbye to the woman who had been his best friend, his sister and his greatest love. He staggered against the wall, bracing himself with one gloved hand and the other covered his face as he sobbed brokenly. He bit into the leather on his knuckles to keep from screaming, his chest heaving, each breath more labored than the last.
“Rem…?” Ali had entered the hall from the elevator. She had become increasingly worried about him when he hadn’t returned to the upstairs, where the would be mourners were gathered. Seeing him there, braced against the wall, his entire being exuding infinite sadness, Ali was struck by how much she loved him, loved him like she could love no other. She had approached him slowly, almost afraid to startle him, he was so consumed. As she got closer he seemed to sense her but all he did was lean against the wall with one shoulder and slide to the floor. “She’s dying…” Ali heard him say in a raw whisper. “My padnat…”
He had looked up into her eyes then and the despair in his broke her heart. “I can’t lose you too, Ali.”
“You won’t,” she had whispered, lowering herself in front of him and opening her arms. “I’m here, Etienne.”
She had held him all through that night, neither one talking. They had gone up to the loft, a place of shared memories for them as well as a reminder of the sister they were losing. It was dawn, the first rays of the sun creeping through the skylight when Gambit had murmured into her hair, “Je t’aime, Alison.” To which she had replied with a slow kiss, telling him in the language he knew best that she loved him as well. Long hours later they had fallen asleep, still locked in each others arms, her face pressed to the hollow of his throat and his hands tangled in her short ebony locks.

***

Jubilee pointed towards Logan, saying, “Two Wolvies,” breaking Remy’s daydream.
“Lord ‘ave mercy on us all.” Remy walked over to Wolverine’s opposite side, staring at the baby in the older mutant’s hands with obvious adoration. “’e gots Stormy’s nose.”
Logan grunted. “Yeah. He does.” He touched his son’s soft cheek with the tip of his index finger. “He’s perfect.”
“’E be Stormy’s bebe. Did you expect anyt’in less?”
“No, Cajun. I didn’t.” There was a gruff edge to Logan’s voice and all became silent. Logan grit his teeth against the waves of pain he felt against the still raw wounds he had thinking about ‘Ro. His ‘Ro…gone…Fuck.
The baby cooed in gleeful happiness, bringing him from his dark thoughts, reaching for the rim of his father’s cowboy hat.
*BAMF*
“Are we late?” Kitty asked.
“No. Wolvie hasn’t even started the fire yet.” Jubilee said, kicking against the tree and swinging back and forth.
“I’ll take care of de fire, non.” Gambit said with a wink at Ali.
“You certainly make me hot,” she said with a smile.
“Okay, eeewwww. Honestly.” Jubilee scrunched her face. “You’re all preggers and stuff.”
“Pregnant women are the most horny women in the world.” Ali said. “Trust me.”
“Lalalalalala,” Jubilee covered her ears.
“I think we got the point, Al,” Logan said with a tilt of his lips.
Kitty stepped towards him. “Can I hold him?”
“Sure, Sprite.” Logan stood, gently handing his son to Kitty.
Kitty cooed, rubbing her nose against the baby‘s. “Ooohhhh, he’s so tiny.” A little fist came out and bopped her in the nose. Kitty raised her head, one brow quirked. “And so much like his father.”
“May I see?” Kurt stood next to her, smiling down at the boy. He and Kitty were now moving forward, slowly, but together. He slung one arm over her shoulder, his long tail wrapping around her waist in a surprisingly possessive gesture. Kitty smiled at him, a dull blush creeping along her freckled cheeks. She thought of how close they’d gotten in the past two months.

***

“Come now, Katzchen. You must open the door. You need to eat.” Kurt pleaded, rapping one large knuckle against the wood of Kitty’s dorm room.
“Go away! I don’t must, gotta or wanna do anything! Go away!!” She was crying into her pillow so her voice was muffled, but Nightcrawler had heard it just the same. He sighed. They were all hurting since Storm’s departure, but Kitty seemed to be taking it rather hard.
“Katzchen--”
“Go away!”
*BAMF*
“Kurt?”
*BAMF* He stood inside her dim room. “Kitty.” He walked to her bed, where she sat on the edge, her copy of the Vegas wedding picture in her hands.
“It’s not f-f-fair.” she had cried.
“I know, liebling.” He sat next to her, offering the broad expanse of his sweatshirt clad shoulder. He stroked her thick chestnut hair, trying to ease her suffering.
Kitty clung to him, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “It’s not fair!” she cried harder.
“Sshh.” Kurt kissed her forehead.
Kitty looked up at him, her honey and brown eyes glittering against the shadows. Tentatively she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his silken blue ones. When he didn’t pull away she pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Katzchen?” Kurt pulled back slightly.
“I just want to be held.” she whispered.
“Then I will hold you,” came his slightly thickened accented response. He pulled her tighter against his chest and began to sing a familiar hymn. Kitty had stayed in his arms for a long time, listening to him and sniffling.
“I love you, Kurt.” She said after a long while, when the shadows had deepened to night and the last of the light faded from the room, the only illumination coming from Kurt’s glowing yellow eyes.
“Kitty, the urge to be close and say things out of grief is under--”
“Shut up.” She pulled his mouth down to hers. “I love you.”
“Oh, Katzchen…”
***

“C’mon, Gumbo, lets get the pit lit.” Wolverine strode a few feet away where they were going to build their bonfire. It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, the stars twinkled like diamonds on a blue-black velvet sky. Logan inhaled deeply, taking in all the scents, and for a moment, just a moment he thought he smelled her. Innocence and vanilla, flowers and the coming rain…Storm, his ‘Ro. He felt it, that horrible kick in the gut he always felt when he thought of her. So painful it was hard to breathe, unable to move.
He glanced over his shoulder at Kitty and Kurt, still holding his son. Chance. Alison had told him Storm had wanted to name him Chance. He cursed inside. He should have known that. It should have been something they did together. He should have been there. But no. He was off in another country, hunting down a past that seemed so less relevant now. Hell, he should have known months ago that she was pregnant, and he was certain if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own shit, he would’ve. His left hand clenched, his ring biting into the flesh on his finger. Two months she’d been gone and it hurt worse than ever…

***
“ORORO!”
“Wolverine.” The Professor was in front of him, they were alone in the lab.
Logan looked around frantically, his lip curling back. “What happened?”
“Calm down, son, and I’ll explain--”
“Don’t take that fuckin’ condescending tone with me, Chuck, and don’t call me son. For all we know, I’m twice yer fuckin’ age. Just give it to me straight.”
“Very well, Wolverine. Storm‘s dying.”
Wolverine glowered. “I know she’s sick. I know it’s bad.”
Charles shook his head sadly. “I mean right now. She is…” he closed his eyes. “Her mind is gone.”
“I don’t believe ya.”
“Wolverine. I’m sorry.”
“No.” As if he could simply command it not to be.
The doors hissed open and Jean walked in, glancing uneasily between the two men. She exchanged a few mental words with the Professor before giving Wolverine a heartfelt look.
Xavier cleared his throat. “You can see your son now.”
Wolverine stood dumb. “My…”
“Son.” Xavier finished for him. “He survived. Storm’s sacrifice was not in vain. You two have brought forth the next generation in our family.”
For a long moment Wolverine remained frozen, his black eyes glittering with repressed emotion. “Chuck…If ya wanna live…GET THE FUCK OUT!!!” He swept his arm across the counter, bottles and vials smashing onto the floor. His claws slid in and out of his hands, blood splattering the ceramic tiles with the intensity and veracity of each extension and retraction.
Charles left without another word.
Wolverine raged.
If rage was a physical being it would have been him in those moments. He had roared before, many times, but he had never screamed and he did so then. With rage and longing and raw heartache. He slashed and kicked and punched holes in the wall. The pain seemed unending and relentless and he would have continued like that for days if not for the feeling of fingertips against his neck and the fresh scent of the earth washing over him, soothing him.
Logan had opened his eyes, taking in the destruction to the small room. Needing to out of that place, he left the med lab, intending going to the infirmary, his sole purpose to see his son, when he noticed Henry rolling Storm from the OR into one of the rooms. He raced down the hall.
Hank had spotted him and waited, a empathetic look on his blue face. “My condolences and congratulations,” he murmured.
Wolverine ignored him, lifting Ororo’s limp hand in his. “She’s still alive,” he rasped.
“Her body is.” Hank clarified. “She’s comatose. Her brain is…not functioning.”
Wolverine gave him a narrow look a low growl issuing from his very depths. “She’s alive.”
Henry wisely chose not to respond.
It was that night, laying beside Ororo when Wolverine had the first dream.
~~~
Their phone was ringing.
~Ignore it.~ Logan grumbled, licking his wife’s delicious collar bone.
~It could be important~ Ororo said softly, her velvet voice teasing his ear. ~I need you to wake up.~ She gently pushed against his chest.
Reluctantly Logan rolled off of her, picking up the phone. ~Hello?~
~Hey, Fuckface.~
~Hiya, Wolverine.~ He answered himself.
~So, how’s Storm? Did you kill her yet? Like Mariko?~
Logan glanced at the bed where Ororo sat, a soft, sad smile on her face. She was alive, right? He turned his attention back to the phone. ~Wolverine?~ No answer.
This was wrong. Something was wrong. How had he gotten Ororo in his bed? Wasn’t she elsewhere?
Logan hung up the phone. Wasn‘t he the Wolverine? ~Is this real?~
~Who is to say what is real.~
Logan stretched with animal grace, his smile darkly sensual. Never one to argue with good fortune he shrugged. ~C’mere.~
Ororo shook her head. ~I can‘t.~
~You can.~ he growled.
Ororo hung her head, blood spilling across the sheets in scarlet ribbons.
Logan felt his heart rate double. ~’Ro?~
Ororo looked up and smiled. ~You were my only. I loved you more than the sun and rain.~ Orchids drifted across the bed, dancing up her arms.
The phone rang again.
Logan growled as he picked it up. ~What the fuck do you want?!~
Bright white light. Pain. Holy fuck, the pain!
~~~
He had jerked awake, sweat dripping into his eyes. Their son was crying, his plaintive wail having awakened Logan. He rose from the bed, lifting the tiny bundle, uncertain as to how to handle a baby. His son immediately ceased his crying the second Logan’s strong hands had enfolded him. He walked back over to the bed, laying down beside Ororo again, with the baby nestled between them. “This is yer mama. Ye’ll get ta meet her real soon. She’s just a little sleepy now.” He felt his throat tighten. “She wanted ya real bad, Chance. Wanted ya so much that she’d have moved heaven and earth ta have ya. Yer mama loves ya, buddy, and so long as I’m here, I ain’t never gonna let ya forget that.”
***

That had been two months ago and Ororo wasn’t improving, and the nightmares were getting worse.
Henry had begun the gene therapy on Ororo immediately upon Chance’s birth, but the odds, he was honest, were severely slim. Still Wolverine had held hope that she would recover, and had remained steadfast by her side until Jubilee had gone to see him one day and lectured him on fresh air and life. He grinned a bit. His firecracker girl, all of fifteen years old, lecturing him on life.
“Don’t you think Chance might like to see the sun?” Jubilee had asked. “If he’s anything like Storm, he needs to be outside, Wolvie.”
Using Storm as motivation was clever on Jubilee’s part, because it got him motivated quickly. He set up a play area, and changed the guest room of the boat house into a nursery. Well, not him so much as every female at the mansion. Flamin’ chicks had swarmed on the room like vultures on dead meat. A fuzzy blanket here, a Noah’s ark toy there, Baby Einstein and Winnie the Pooh crap all over.
However, it was Jubilee and Ali that had finally put the room together. The ceiling had been painted sky blue, with clouds, done by Colossus, and a beautiful Canadian mountain scene taking up one wall. The windows had been redone and childproofed, and Kurt had given Chance a ‘bamf’ doll. A mini version of the Fuzzy Elf that the damn kid had to have in the crib every night.
“Hey, Elf. Quit pretendin’ interest in my kid just ta get near Sprite and toss me a brew.”
Kurt complied, flipping a tall bottle towards Logan. Wolverine snatched it easily from the air, popping the top off with a flick of one claw.
“See, told you der was a million and one uses for dem t’ings.” Gambit said to Ali.
Ali laughed. “I’d watch it Rem, you two might be heading for another DR session from hell, if you keep that up.” Although she said it in jest Ali remembered all too well the panic she felt when she couldn’t override the Danger Room to get Gambit and Wolverine out and away from each other.

****
The elevator doors dinged open and Gambit strolled down the hall. He was restless, agitated and angry. He needed some release, and not the kind Ali could provide. He needed to make something hurt.
He made his way t the danger room and once inside the sterile looking room he commanded, “Exercise 27-J, opponent: Wolverine.”
As the program started, the ground and room shifting before him Gambit cricked his neck, and snapped his staff to full extension. He immediately went on the offensive, charged cards flying from his fingertips and his bo twirling with eye defying speed. It felt good, but not satisfying. The DR Wolverine wasn’t as cunning or as agile as the real one and Gambit grew frustrated.
“How ‘bouts ya try those fancy twirly moves on the real McCoy, Gumbo.” Wolverine stood in the open door way, ankles and arms crossed, watching the tall Cajun repeatedly whoop his imaginary ass.
Gambit straightened. “Why ain’t you wit’ Stormy?”
Wolverine moved away from the wall. “She’s in treatment.”
Gambit nodded. “Jus’ wonderin’ when you was gonna walk out on ‘er again.”
Wolverine’s eyes narrowed. “Ya got a problem, Cajun?”
“Wit’ you? Absolutely.” Gambit collapsed the bo and shrugged out of his trademark trench, stretching his arms wide, the black spandex of his top going taut over tight muscles.
“Well, quit yer preening, pretty boy and come get some.” -SNIKT-
“Wit’ pleasure, homme. Wit’ pleasure.” Gambit charged three cards, whipping them from agile fingers.
Wolverine dodged easily, launching himself from his doorway position into the room. He crouched low, moved fast, and was on top of Gambit before Gambit knew what hit him.
Gambit swore violently as the top of Wolverine’s head smashed into his, making him see stars. Two claws punctured the steel beside Gambit’s head the third only partially extended. Wolverine grinned with feral intensity.
“Yer a bigger pussy than Scooter.”
Red on black eyes glowed angrily. “And you’re a dumb Canadian fuck.” Gambit slid a card into Wolverine’s pants pocket. “I ‘ope dey don’ grow back.” He smiled.
Wolverine jumped off of Gambit, slicing the pocket open just as the card exploded, singeing the hair on his legs and burning skin. “Ya keep yer filthy Cajun hands away from my package, ya fuckin’ fruit.” Two quick punches rendered Gambit semi-conscious. “This is gonna hurt,” Wolverine smirked. He lifted his leg and brought his heel down on Gambit’s chest, not hard enough to break bone, but hard enough to hurt. Like hell.
Gambit groaned, trying to roll away from Wolverine.
“Where ya goin’, Gumbo? Not havin’ any fun?” Wolverine followed, his voice a menacing taunt.
With a quick flick of his wrist Gambit snapped open his staff once again, swinging it in a smooth arc, catching Wolverine in the knees, taking his legs out from under him. Gambit levered himself on one hand and kicked, his heel crunching the cartilage in Wolverine’s nose. Blood spurted across the floor and Gambit smirked. “Looks like your not unbreakable after all, non?”
Wolverine was on his feet in an instant, wiping the back of his hand across his face. “Naw. Not unbreakable, but a real quick fix.” Already the blood was slowing and the tissue repairing itself.
“Wit’out dat ‘ealing factor, you’d be a bigger pussy den Scooter. What Stormy ever saw in you is beyond me.”
Wolverine‘s teeth bared, his longer canines gleaming. “Keep pushin’, Gumbo.”
Gambit shrugged, skirting a few feet away, regrouping. “I wonder if she jus’ didn’ feel sorry for your hairy, worthless ass. She was always tryin’ t’ fix t’ings for people. Maybe she thought she could fix you. It’s ironic, no? Dat da angel falls while da devil roams free.”
Wolverine could feel the blood thrumming in his head, his vision going red. “Shut up.”
“You and Stormy. Fuckin’ joke.” Gambit spat on the floor. “Too goddamn busy t’ see. Too goddamn self absorbed t’ know she needed you.”
Wolverine growled. “We talkin’ ‘bout me here, Cajun? Or you?”
Gambit grit his teeth. “Both.” He flung several charged cards, and Wolverine stood still, taking each hit like he deserved them. As the flesh burned from his chest and arms he grimaced but remained silent. “She needed you!” Gambit hollered, rushing forward and launching himself with help from his staff. Both feet connected solidly with Wolverine’s chest, sending him back against the wall. Gambit spun the staff, striking viciously and repeatedly, blood spraying the walls and floor. “She needed you!!” Gambit’s anger was intense, and Wolverine bore it stoically.
Gambit took a step back, panting, his gaze resting on the very bloody man in front of him. Wolverine stepped away from the wall. “Ya done? My turn.” His foot caught Gambit under the chin, sending him flying. Wolverine stalked forward, growling, his eyes blazing black fire. “Ya don’t get ta be righteous with me, Fucker.” He lifted Gambit by his shirt front, head butting him, bloodying his lip and cracking his nose. “What about you, you bastard. Ali needs you. She needs you now. And here ya are playing rock ‘em sock ‘em with me in the Danger Room.” Wolverine flung Gambit over his shoulder. He turned, following. “Take care of yer own!”
Gambit rolled onto his knees. “Stormy is my own.”
“No. She ain’t.”
“Fuck you.” Gambit kicked weakly. Wolverine stomped on his ankle, pinning his leg to the floor.
“Stop.” he growled. “I don’t wanna hurt ya, Cajun. Storm would never forgive me.”
“It’s not like she’ll know, Wolverine.” Gambit twisted, locking his other leg around Wolverine’s waist and dragging him down.
-SNIKT- Claws brushed Gambit’s inner thigh. “I know yers ain’t growin’ back.” Wolverine growled. “Now stop. I hear yer girl, Gumbo. She’s freakin’ out.”
Gambit looked up at the turret and sure enough Ali had been standing there, slamming her hands into the glass, yelling for them to, “Cut the fuckin’ shit!”
Gambit slowly untangled himself, moving away and wiping his still bleeding nose. As both men rose, Gambit realized the Wolverine hadn‘t even broken a sweat, wasn‘t even breathing heavy. “You were letting me score.” he said quietly. “You could’ve taken me at any time, non? You were just toyin‘ wit‘ me.”
“Ya needed ta get it out,” Wolverine grumbled. “Besides, I don’t want ta tangle with Ali if I break you, I don’t think I could handle that kinda hurt.”
Gambit chuckled.
“She didn‘ wanna fix you.” He said as they were leaving.
“Huh?” Wolverine was removing his tattered shirt.
“Stormy. She didn’ wanna fix you. She loved you.”
Wolverine nodded, quiet.

****
“Where are all the damn marshmallows?” Jubilee grumbled, lifting the tops off the coolers.
Wolverine put the discarded top back on the red and white cooler. “What’re ya gripin’ about?”
“The marshmallows. We can’t make s’mores without them.”
“Here they are!” Kitty exclaimed, waving the bag over her head. “I can’t believe you’ve never had s’mores before,” she said to Kurt with a kiss on his cheek.
“Ja. Well, fur and sticky in general are not a good combination.” he said with a wink.
“Boy ‘ave you led a dull life,” Gambit said with a sultry smile directed towards Ali.
“Geez, Ali, can’t ya get that boy a muzzle?” Jubilee walked by them, punching Gambit in the arm playfully.
“Easy, chere, Gambit might like.”
“Pervert.” Jubilee rolled her eyes.
Wolverine glowered at the tall Cajun. “Flirt with ‘em if their drinkin’ age, Gumbo, and only if ya dare.”
“Yes, Rem. Only if you dare.” Ali said from her seat on the front stoop where she was holding the baby, one foot tapping.
Gambit held up his hands in mock surrender. “Jus’ a little funning’ wit’ da petit.”
“Yeah, well ‘da petit’ is off limits, Bub.”
Jubilee laughed, pushing her ever present sunglasses through her dark hair. “I’ll be sixteen in a couple months, Pappy. Can’t keep me from dating forever.”
“Wanna bet.” Wolverine grumbled, walking across the yard to where Ali was cradling Chance. “Looks good on ya, darlin’.” he commented.
“What does?” Ali glanced up.
“Motherhood.”
Ali blushed. “Thanks. He’s out, should I go put him down.”
“Nah. I’ll do it.” Logan reached for the tiny bundle, his normally fierce features softening instantly. “You go keep Gumbo in line.”
Ali gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s a full time job.”
Inside the boathouse Logan walked with Chance to the nursery. He carefully placed him in the crib, turning the mobile so that the faint tinkering sounds of ‘Hush Little Baby’ filtered through the room. He then turned on the monitor and latched the portable onto his belt. As he closed the door he flicked on the nightlight that spun stars along the ceiling. “G’night, little man.” Again he caught he scent of freshly fallen rain with a trace of vanilla. Damn.
He returned outdoors where the others were seated around the bonfire, roasting marshmallows and laughing. Storm would have loved it. Her family together and happy. Wolverine pushed the wave of anguish swelling in his chest down.

Later

“You heading up to the Mansion?” Jubilee shoved the last of garbage into the trash can, cleaning the yard. She noticed Logan on the front porch, cigar in his mouth, pensive frown on his face.
“Yeah. If ya don’t mind watchin’ Chance fer a bit.”
Jubilee smiled, and gave an exaggerated moan. “Oh, no. Anything but spend time with a cute boy who drools all over me.”
“Thanks, kid.” He strode over the grassy incline separating them from the mansion, a look of grim determination on his face.
“Good luck, Wolvie…” Jubilee sighed.

Infirmary

Logan pressed Ororo’s lifeless hand to his cheek. It felt cold, the pulse in her wrist barely discernible. He rubbed it against his stubble, breathing her in.
“I love ya, ‘Ro. I love ya so much.” He had repeated this to her thousands of times in the past few months, at times so much so that his voice went raw. For months she hovered on the brink of death. She had left a will, saying she didn’t want machines to keep her alive, so none were used, yet here she lay, clinging to life. Logan kissed her palm, watching her with shadowed eyes. With each shallow breath she took his heart ached more because he always wondered when would be the last, when would she breathe no more.
A painful knot lodged in his chest. It was his fault, all his fault. He should have seen, should have known, should have…done…something…anything. He took a deep, shuddering breath, bowing his head over her hand. “I know yer in there. I knew it before and I know it now. Come back ta me, ‘Roro. I know I ain’t perfect. I’ve done things…terrible things, that I regret, wish I could change…but not you, darlin’. Yer perfect. My angel. I’ve failed ya time and again, ‘Ro. I know this, but because of you I’m different now. I’m a new man, a better man. I know I don’t deserve ya. But I can’t lose ya. I won’t. Come back ta me.”
Logan sat back, releasing a painful sigh. He felt like roaring when she gave no response, not even the faintest twitch in her slender fingers. She lay still, a goddess frozen in time. He wanted to scream and cry, but Ororo didn’t need that. She needed his love to bring her home. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Calm strength and love. That’s what he’d be for her. Calm strength and--
“You will not die! Ya hear me in there, Ororo Howlett!! You will not leave our son without a mother!” he raged, pacing the floor. “Open those big blue eyes you stubborn witch!”
She didn’t move.
Wolverine continued to pace, his strides taking on a predatory lope. “I’m tired of arguing with ya. Yer stubborn and willful, and never listen ta a goddamn thing I say, but ya bet yer sweet ass yer gonna listen now. Wake the fuck up!”
She didn’t wake.
“I love ya, ‘Ro. Chance needs ya…I need ya.” He was growing weary, his anger fading in his sadness. “I’m tired, ‘Ro. So fuckin’ tired of bein’ alone. It’s dark without ya, baby. I need my light. I’m sorry I wasn’t here fer ya, but I am now, and I need you ta be here fer me. Please, I love--” He was going to say more when he realized her eyes were open. He’d finally snapped, gone over the deep end.
“Say it…” she whispered, snapping him back to reality.
Logan dropped to his knees beside her, shaking. “I love ya. I’ve loved ya since ya took me inta the woods and made lightening dance. Maybe even before that.”
“I’m not going to die,” she assured him. She said it with conviction.
Logan smiled. God, he’d forgotten how good that felt. Smiling. “No ya ain’t, I won’t letchya.”
Ororo beamed. “Can I see my baby?” she asked.
Logan gave a short laugh. “In a minute. Let me just have this moment.”
“Okay.” She gazed up at him. She reached for him, touching his lips, his nose, his cheek. “I saw you. I felt you. Thank you for brining me back.” she smirked. “Again.”

One month Later

“Ororo! Damn it woman, get yer ass back down here!”
“Logan!” Ororo protested, flipping through the air. “I feel fine.”
“I don’t care how ya say ya feel. Until hank gives ya the all clear, yer grounded.”
Ororo rolled her eyes. “Papa’s such a grumpy pup, isn’t he?” she cooed at the little boy in her arms.
“Dammit, ‘Ro. Is Chance up there with ya?”
“Yes.” She lowered herself to the ground, her bare toes wiggling in the grass. It was late evening, the silence of the night broken by the croaks of frogs and the chirps of crickets, and the growls of an irritated Wolverine.
Logan pulled her into his arms the second her feet touched the ground.
“You need to lighten up,” Ororo murmured, pressing her lips to his in a feather light kiss. “You’ll give yourself an ulcer.”
“Now is not the time ta be flippant, darlin’.” he growled.
Ororo held chance up in her arms. “He’s all bark, Chance. No bite. Can you grr, baby boy?” Ororo playfully bared her teeth at chance and to her and Logan’s astonishment he mimicked the act. Ororo laughed and Logan let it wash over him. God he loved her smooth voice and silky laugh.
Chance yawned, blinking bleary eyes. “I’ll put him down,” Logan offered.
“No, I’d like to. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” Ororo took Chance inside, laying him in his crib. She leaned against the rail, brushing her snowy hair over her shoulder as she spoke.
“Mama’s going to tell you a story, little man. It’s about a beautiful princess and her mighty warrior. Once upon a time there was a princess with dark flowing hair and pale skin. She had kind eyes and a warm smile. Her name was Mariko. Mariko lived in a faraway land of dragons and legends, of warriors and noblemen. It was in this faraway land that Mariko met a brave warrior named Wolverine. Wolverine was a fierce and loyal fighter, but his loyalties were not with Mariko’s family. She loved him anyways, even though she knew he would have to do something not nice to her. Princess Mariko’s daddy was not a nice man. He was bad, bad, bad, and hurt many people. It was the Wolverine’s job to stop the bad man from hurting more people. Mariko knew this. She accepted it. But still, in her magic garden when she saw the warrior in his animal form, she became frightened and turned away from him. This hurt the warrior and he left his love. But he never lost her. She was always in his heart, even when he didn’t know it, and he in hers. Princess Mariko was brave and noble but sadly, the princess never got to tell her warrior how much she loved him, and would always love him. One day another woman fell in love with the warrior and they were wed. The new love of the warrior was hurting, she was sick and was forced to rest, like sleeping beauty. She was pulled far away from her Wolverine. So far away that she feared never getting back to him, or their handsome prince. All alone this spirit was, lost and afraid, but she fought on, needing to get back to her warrior. She swore to tell him that none of it was his fault. That he was brave and true, and honorable, and that he was loved.”
Ororo straightened from her long asleep son and slowly turned, already knowing he was behind her, hearing everything.
Logan stood in the doorway, clad in his jeans and nothing else, his face reflecting wary hope.
Ororo walked towards the door, slowly closing it behind them. “I don’t know how, but for a while I was in your mind,” she whispered. She had no idea what it meant, and from the look on Logan’s face he didn’t either.
To his credit Logan didn’t look skeptical or disbelieving, he instead looked as vulnerable as she had ever seen him look. “I love you,“ Ororo said. “Hold me.“ She went to him and slid her arms around his neck, pressing her soft figure to his.
Heat slid through him, making his body rock hard in an instant. It had been too long since he’d had her. “Ah, hell, ‘Ro…” Then he was kissing her, taking her mouth tenderly, his tongue slipping past her parted lips and dancing with hers. He was shaken by just how close he’d come to losing her, really losing her.
“Logan,” she whispered his name on a note of longing.
“I’ve missed ya, darlin’. Every day was sheer hell without ya.”
She pressed closer so that he could feel all of her through her long nightdress.
“I need ya,” the words were harsh with barely contained desire and longing. He captured her lips again, this time hard and demanding. She kissed him with equal urgency, making the fire in his blood blaze. With a groan he lifted her and carried her to the couch in the living room, lowering her gently. He didn’t remove her clothes, he wanted her far too badly for that. Instead he slid her nightdress over her slender hips, unbuttoned his jeans hurriedly, found her hot core and sank himself in.
He groaned as her heat gripped him. He was where he belonged, where he so desperately needed to be. She slid her fingers through his wild hair, pulling his hed down to hers for a kiss.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. I want you so much.” She lifted her hips against him and he gripped her hips tighter. His body clenched, making him harder still. Christ.
He wanted to be gentle with her, afterall she had been damn near dead for two months. His muscles shook with restraint and sweat glistened on his body.
Ororo sensed his urgency, locking her legs around him and moving against him in wild abandon. He cupped her breasts, teasing her coffee nipples, a ragged sound tearing from his throat. “Make me yours, Logan,” Ororo moaned.
Pounding into her he drove harder and faster, the rhythm increasing, the animal lust sweeping over him until he could no longer think and he claimed her, marking her between her neck and shoulder, rocking forcefully. Their releases came together, both swirling in a bottomless pool of pleasure.
Logan stayed buried in her long after they were finished, unwilling to let her go. He inhaled her scent, a smile on his face. “I love ya, ‘Ro.”
“I know.” she grinned. “I love you too.”

Morning

“I can’t explain it, but the virus is completely gone.” Henry went over Ororo’s chart with the professor. “The gene therapy was effective, but not to this degree. Her brain was in effect dead for two months. I can’t figure it out.”
“I don’t think miracles are meant to be figured out,” Jean said from her seat at the conference table.
“Miracles. Come now, Jean. We’re scientists.” Hank said with a raised bushy eyebrow.
“Well, you just said yourself science couldn’t explain it. Maybe we should just take it on faith.”
Xavier gave her a long look, his brow furrowed. Jean had been quite attentive to Ororo during the last few weeks of her coma. “Faith.” Xavier repeated. “We’ll see. You are both dismissed.”
In the hallway, Ali met Jean. “Well?”
“I think the Professor suspects.”
“Are you serious?’ Ali hissed.
Jean shushed her. “Well, yeah. Storm was damn near dead and all the sudden she’s all better. Yeah I think he’s suspicious.”
“Let’s hope not because if they ever find out what we did to get that cure…”
“There’s no need for anyone to ever know, Ali.”
“Yeah, right. You know what they say. No good deed…”
“Yeah.”
On the front lawn the girls stopped to observe Ororo and Logan on a blanket with baby Chance. They looked happy and peaceful and blissfully in love.
“It was worth it.” Ali said quietly, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling she and Jean had opened Pandora’s box.