There was no sound as the library door was opened, however crouched in the shadows, lock pick in hand, Ororo Munroe froze in the act of opening the small desk beside the fireplace. Someone was in here with her.
With a gathering sense of dread, she rose slightly on her haunches, her vivid blue eyes peering over the very top of the ancient oak, across the darkened room.
The man who had entered so silently stood in the deep oil black shadows beside the door, his arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest, and though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he was wearing one of his self assured smirks. Ororo bit her lip, debating on fully revealing herself or not.
“Ya know I can smell ya,” the figure in the door stated as if reading her mind.
Ororo gave up all pretense and stood, glaring icy blue daggers at him. “I’m close, aren’t I, Logan?”
“Yer not gonna find it, babe.” He shrugged one shoulder, stepping away from the door after clicking the brass lock. He strode towards her casually, his swagger both arrogant and smooth. A predator, a hunter born and bred. He grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the shadows, a devilish glint in his glittering eyes.
Ororo frowned. “I’m not giving up,” she said quietly, her breath leaving her as he approached. Her body immediately tingled with awareness. He always had that effect on her, probably always would.
“I didn’t think ya would.” he assured her. He moved closer still, forcing her to step back against the desk, the top pressing her upper thighs. He trapped her between his arms, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. “Mmmm. Ya smell good, darlin’.”
Ororo took a shaky breath. “No fair,” she hissed.
He licked the slight line of her collar bone revealed by the off shoulder neckline of her misty gray colored top. “I never said I played fair,” he acknowledged with a light nip.
A low moan trembled from her lips. She couldn’t think, could only feel as his hands roamed her back, slid along her front, cupped her breasts through the fuzzy gray material of her winter sweater, kneading gently. He trailed his lips along the graceful column of her neck, taking his time, moving with infinite patience and practiced skill. He knew every spot to touch, and just how to make her shiver. His mouth settled over hers and she didn’t miss the lustful glint in his eye. His tongue demanded entrance, stealing her breath and will at the same time. She clung to him, her arms circling his thick neck and he pressed her back onto the desk, his arm sweeping out and scattering the scant contents atop the oak to the carpeted floor.
Warm hands danced along her thighs and Ororo realized he had already found his way beneath her long black skirt. She tilted her head back and gave a soft cry as he stroked her through her white lace. “Logan…oh, Goddess, Logan…”
He smiled against her mouth. “Ya like that?” he growled.
Ororo lifted herself against him.
“Hm?” he grunted. “Say it.”
“Yessss. I like that.”
“Good.” He pressed his thumb to her clit and rotated it in fast circles. Ororo shrieked. Logan chuckled. Damn, she was responsive. He loved that about her. He lost his next thought as her hands gripped the edges of his gray and blue flannel, yanking it open and pushing up his tee to bare his chest to her heated gaze. He groaned as she pressed her hands to his skin, her fingers curling in his thick mat of hair.
“So hairy. Just like animal,” she said in a thick Russian-esque accent. “Grr, baby.”
Logan laughed. “No more Austin Powers fer you,” he vowed.
Ororo grinned. “Do I make you horny, baby? Randy? Do I?”
Logan rubbed against her and her grin was replaced by a look of passion. Feeling his thick arousal through the denim of his pants she sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“No, darlin’. That’s a ‘hell yes’ .” He gripped the thin edges of her panties, lowering them down her smooth thighs. At the sight of her snowy curls he growled low and deep. “Fuck, baby. I can’t wait.” He jerked open his jeans, freeing his turgid erection and yanking her across the desk so that her buttocks rode the edge. He entered her in one swift thrust, making her gasp and himself groan. “Christ.” he rasped, feeling her inner muscles tighten and flex.
Ororo rolled her head back and forth as he began to pump a furious rhythm into her, his body demanding and giving, making her pant and grunt. It was wild, this taking, and Logan felt his climax building quickly. They moved together forcefully, her hips rising to meet his every thrust, the momentum building. He grunted into her ear, bending over her as his movements became quicker, harder, deeper…deeper…oh fuckfuckfuck….
Ororo barely suppressed her scream as he reached between them, smearing her own juices over her flesh and teasing her slick folds, tugging on her hidden pearl. Her legs locked against the small of his back and her fingernails scored his chest. “Looooogaaaannnn!!”
“Yeah, baby, that’s it….uhn…fuck!!” He pounded into her then his entire body went rigid, the tendons on his neck standing out in stark relief. “Jesus,” he gasped moments later.
Ororo smiled, her breathing to erratic for speech. She was leaning up to kiss him when the door knob rattled. After a moments jiggle a hard pounding began.
“Open up in dere, Stormy! Da ot’er team already won.” There was a long pause. “Stormy? Merde. If da Wolverine is in dere wit’ you… Cheater!”
Logan grinned, calling back. “All’s fair, Cajun.”
Ororo tried her best to look angry but couldn’t pull the look off, still flush from their lovemaking. “So, where was it?” she asked.
Logan adjusted his clothing, then hers, helping her from the desk. He bent to the drawer she had been about to open and unlocked it, revealing the red and green checked box that had been the last item for her team to collect in the scavenger hunt.
“Cheater.” she accused lightly.
Logan shrugged. “I take winnin’ very seriously.”
“I see that.”
He kissed her neck, lingering over her pulse.
“Mmmm….” Ororo’s eyes drifted shut and she unconsciously leaned into his touch. “We should get back to the others. Besides, Jubilee probably needs a break.”
Logan grunted. “She likes ta watch Chance.”
“I know, but I miss him.”
“Ya’ve been away from him all of forty minutes.”
Ororo nodded, her face earnest. “I know.”
Logan kissed her softly, his gray eyes holding hers.
Ororo smiled. “We’d better head back. Jubilee really is probably ready to launch.”
“That kid’s always ready ta launch.”
Ororo laughed. “I can’t wait to see her face.”
Logan took a deep breath. “Truth be told, ‘Ro. Neither can I.”



Family Room

Ororo retrieved Chance form Jubilee and made her way to Ali’s side, where her dark haired friend was rocking one of the two Lebeau twins. As she approached Ororo noted it was baby Abigail that Ali held, which meant baby Luke was with his father. “Hey.” Ali looked lovely, Ororo noticed, her black hair combed forward, the bangs and sides longer than the back. She wore a pair of loose fitting green trousers and a long sleeved white turtleneck. Her aqua eyes glowed with pride and contentment.
“Hey.”
Ali smiled warmly. She shifted on the couch, making room for Ororo and Chance. Ororo sat, cooing at the auburn haired, red eyed baby on Ali‘s lap. “Uh, Stormy?”
“Yeah?”
“How’re you feeling?” There was genuine concern in Ali’s voice.
“Fine. Why?”
“You look a bit flushed.”
Ororo coughed delicately. “Oh, uh…”
Ali grimaced with a good natured grin. “Never mind.”
Charles Xavier chimed a silver bell, quieting the room. “Merry Christmas, my X-Men.”
“Merry Christmas.” Those that remained through the holidays replied in unison. Most of Xavier’s students returned to their parents during the winter break, but there were those like Ororo and Logan that had no family to return to, so they celebrated at the mansion.
“I believe now would be a good time to exchange presents.”
Jubilee shot up from her seat beside the tree. “’Bout time!” She grabbed a small box and raced to Logan’s side. “It ain’t much, but…” she said, surprisingly shy.
Logan took the small box from Jubilee, and gave her short, dark hair a quick ruffle. He peeled the red paper and revealed a sleek black rectangle shaped container with the initials JLH scrawled in gold across the top.
“It’s for your cigars,” she explained when he remained quiet.
He gave her a long look, strong emotion catching him off guard. “Jubes.” He touched her cheek. “This is great, kiddo.”
She beamed proudly.
Gambit approached Ali, Luke cradled in his arm. He nodded to Ororo who stood, opening her free arm to take Lucien from Remy. Once free of the tiny bundle Gambit knelt in front of Ali, adjusting the collar of his deep green shirt. “Alison Blaire.” He reached for her hand. “Je t’aime. More den you can possibly know, ma petite bella. Marry me?” He produced a beautiful diamond ring from his pocket, holding it out to Ali who was staring at him, mouth agape, tears swimming in her ocean eyes.
“Remy…” She paused, catching her breath.
“Cherie?” he smiled his charismatic, devilish smile.
“Yes.”
Applause broke out all around them as Gambit slid the ring on Ali’s hand, leaning forward to kiss her slowly.
“Ya know about this, darlin’?” Logan asked, strolling up beside Ororo.
“Of course. Who do you think picked out the ring,” she laughed. She gave Ali a watery smile. Ali laughed, her eyes spilling as she and Gambit embraced again.
“Wow. Nothing’s gonna top that,” Jubilee smiled, giving a sharp whistle.
“Well, maybe not top it, but…” Ororo nudged Logan.
Jubilee watched him excitedly as he picked up a slim box and handed it to her. She grabbed it and shook. It was very, very light. She ran the slim box under her nose, inhaling.
“Just open it,” Logan growled.
“Shh, Wolvie. This is a delicate process.” Jubilee admonished. She untied the elaborate gold bow, smiling at Ororo. “I know you wrapped it. Ol’ man Slice’n Dice over here doesn’t have the patience.”
Logan grunted. That was true.
Jubilee pulled out a framed document, her brows furrowing slightly. “Uhh, guys…?” her voice shook. She raised wavering chocolate brown eyes to both Ororo and Logan.
“It’s legit, kid.”
Jubilee looked back at the frame in her hands, silent for long moments. Ororo cleared her throat, handing Chance to the Professor, surprised by how nervous she was. “Jubilee--” she began but was interrupted as the younger girl launched herself at them, pulling her and Logan into a fierce hug. Jubilee was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Kiddo?” Logan glanced at Ororo.
Jubilee lifted her tearstained face. “For real?”
“Fer real.” Logan assured her.
Jubilee was shaking. “A mom and dad.” She laughed. “That want me.”
“Very much,” Ororo confirmed.
Jubilee grinned, giving the adoption certificate in her hand another once over, her humor returning. “So, you were like ten when you had me?” she teased.
“Eight.” Ororo stated dryly, tears misting her own eyes.
“Pappy Logan and Mama ‘Ro.” Jubilee grinned. “This is the best f’ing Christmas ever!!”
Several more presents were exchanged, Kurt receiving earmuffs from Jubilee and the collected editions of every Star Wars movie from Ororo and Logan, and a letter from Kitty who was away with her mom celebrating Hanukkah. Colossus also received a letter, but from his mother and sister in Russia, and from Xavier a plane ticket and leave to visit for a week. Jubilee gave him a container of Shining Silver polish, to which he handed her a large stack of bubble gum. Jean and Scott had exchanged more kisses then gifts, but neither seemed to mind. Ororo and Logan had chipped in and bought the Professor a new state of the art wheelchair. For Gambit and Ali they gave them a duel stroller and carriers. For Chance they bought every toy and baby thing under the sun. For each other they exchanged wish cards. Redeemable for one wish at the time of their choosing.
They were in the middle of clean up when the front door chimed.
“Hey, Storm. Looks like you got an admirer.” Colossus strode through the still open double doors, carrying a dozen long stemmed, snow dusted red roses and a garment box, wrapped in velvet red ribbon.
Logan’s head snapped up.
Ororo shrugged at him, indicating she had no idea who the mysterious present was from. She took the lowers from Peter, searching for a card. None. Hm… She laid the box of the floor, tugging the ribbon free. What was inside made her gag.
Laying atop a catholic school girl’s uniform was a heart, rotted and covered in maggots. A black card read: Happy Holidays, my heart remains yours. SS.
In the commotion that followed no one seemed to notice the intense look exchanged between Alison and Jean.
*It can’t be.* Jean sent.
*It very well can be.* Ali responded mentally.
“I suggest a DNA analysis on the heart,” Jean said before Logan could toss the offended box and it’s contents into the fire.
He gave her a strange look and she lifted her chin.
Ororo shivered, her arms tightening around herself. She closed her eyes, but the image of the rotting heart was etched in her brain. She tried to shake it away, but it held firm.
Jubilee grabbed her stomach, her skin tinted an unhealthy green. “So much for wanting figgy pudding.”

Ororo gently stroked the soft tufts of ebony hair that crowned her son’s sleeping head. He was so perfect, she thought with a tender smile. Such an amazing gift. With a whispered goodnight and a touch of her lips to his baby smooth cheek she left the nursery, careful to leave the door open a crack, even though the monitor was in the living room with Logan.
Who was pacing the floor when she emerged from the hall. “Logan, sit down,” she said lightly. “Relax.”
“Relax?” He looked at her like she’d just grown a third foot from the center of her forehead. “How exactly do ya expect me ta relax, darlin’ when yer getting body parts fer Christmas presents.”
She crossed the room to where he stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I must admit the whole rotted heart was a bit disconcerting, but Hank will examine it tomorrow, and until then there is no sense worrying about it.”
Logan tangled his fingers in her unbound hair. “’Ro, this fucker threatened you. I can’t let that slide.”
“We’re not even sure it was Sebastian Shaw. I’ve met the man. He doesn’t seem the type for such a trivial prank.” Ororo said, turning her face into his palm.
He was distracted for a moment by the feel of her lips on his skin. “A prank would be TP-ing the Institute or putting green food coloring in yer shampoo. This is not a prank, Ororo. It’s a threat, and I’m takin’ it very, very seriously.”
“I can see that. Then I have nothing to worry about,” she smiled at him. “Let’s go to bed.”
“I’ll be up in a minute. I wanna make a phone call.”
“Logan-”
“I’ll be right up.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss.
Ororo didn’t argue, instead making her way up the staircase to their bedroom, her fingertips noiselessly trailing the banister. The upstairs was dark, and for a moment Ororo hesitated at the top of the stairs, a cold chill dancing along her spine, making her wrap her arms about herself in an attempt to ward it off. Foolish, she chided herself. This was her home, no way was she letting some sicko scare her into being afraid of the dark. She walked through their bedroom door with determined strides.
Once inside she flicked on her bedside lamp, a low wattage bulb casting the room in an amber glow. She pulled her fuzzy gray top over her head and unzipped her long black skirt, letting the thick material slide past her hips. A quick flick of her foot sent the garments across the carpet to the wall. She stretched her arms behind her, unclasping her white lace bra and flinging it with a careless toss.
After a quick face wash and a brush of her teeth Ororo left the newly added upstairs washroom, and made her way to her vanity in the corner of the bedroom. She sat on the small bench, reaching for her comb. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the bristles on her scalp.
“Beautiful.”
Ororo’s eyes snapped open. Behind her in the mirror stood Shinobi Shaw, his sensual lips twisted in a hateful smile. Her heart stuttered and her hand shook. No. He was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Sliced to ribbons by Wolverine.
The bedroom door creaked and the image vanished. “Hey, darlin’.” Logan walked into the room. “I got Fury lookin’ in on Sebastian Shaw… Ororo?”
“You didn’t see him?” she whispered.
Logan looked around the room. “See who?”
Ororo swallowed. “No one. Nothing.” She took a shaky breath.
Logan moved to her side, pulling her into his arms, her bare skin rubbing his flannel. He stroked her back soothingly. “Who’d ya think ya saw?”
Ororo tucked her face into his neck. “Shinobi.”
Logan growled. “He’s dead, darlin’.”
“I know. I guess I’m a bit more shaken than I thought I was.”
“I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt ya ever again, baby.”
Ororo smiled lifting her head. “The same goes for you.”
With a low growl Logan captured her pouty lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss. He nipped her full top lip, and then licked along the seam of her minty fresh mouth. “I love ya, darlin’.”
“I love you.” She returned, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. “I need you.” She kissed him, her tongue brushing his teeth, teasing his canines and tasting the faint remains of a recently smoked cigar.
He groaned her name, pulling her from the bench and tossing her gently onto the bed. He removed his own clothing hurriedly, wanting to press himself against her with nothing between them. Once naked he lowered his head, his mouth skimming her silken skin from ankle to ear. “God damn, yer sexy,” he growled at her, his eyes dilated in his need for her.
Ororo laughed throatily. He made her feel sexy. She lifted her hips beseechingly. “I need you, inside of me,” she whispered into the dark hairs at his temple.
Logan grunted, parting her thighs and carefully sinking into her warm, wet center. He felt the blood rush from his head in a mad descent to his groin and the air left his lungs in a rush of pleasure. Christ.
Ororo moaned, her fingernails digging into the muscles on his shoulders. Logan. Her heart. She lifted her legs, locking him to her. “Do you feel that, love? How hot and wet you make me?” she asked huskily.
A short grunt was the response he managed. He began to move in slow, unhurried strokes, pulling nearly free, then sinking deep. Home. He was home when he was with her.
It only took moments for the friction and pressure to build and the slow pace evaporated under the scorching passion that flared to life between them. Breathless gasps mingled with harsh grunts as their mad dance reached its crescendo and the world exploded around them.
“I love you!” Ororo cried, her back arched, her nails scoring the taught muscles of his back and her mouth opened in cry of wonder as ripples of ecstasy washed over her.
Logan couldn’t respond every muscle in his body tensed as he emptied himself into her, pressed so tightly into her it felt like he was bruising her. He rested his damp forehead on her shoulder, his breathing ragged.
“Some day this will fade, right?” Ororo teased, panting.
Logan growled in her ear, causing her to shiver anew. “Don’t count on it, babe.” He kissed her cheek, rolling from her and pulling her into the familiar position across his chest. Once their breathing had returned to normal and the night breeze had cooled their sweat dampened skin Logan bent his head and kissed her softly. “G’night, angel.”

Morning

“There is no mistake. The heart belonged to Shinobi Shaw.”
Ororo couldn’t quite help the flare of relief she felt at Henry McCoy‘s proclamation.
“Okay, so that tells us what we already knew. Shinobi Shaw is dead. But now we need to know who left it.” Cyclops said from his position leaning against the white wall of Hank’s lab.
“It’s a pretty safe bet it was that fucker’s old man,” Logan said. “The initials were SS.”
“Yes, but the card read: my heart remains yours. Sebastian Shaw had nothing to do with Ororo.” Henry pointed out, removing his white lab coat and hanging it on a silver hook beside Cyclops.
“He could just be messing with her mind.” Scott suggested.
Henry nodded. “That is a possibility. The Professor was trying to contact Mr. Shaw this morning to see what information, if any, he could get out of the elder Shaw. He seemed very intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery. He is very fond of Ororo, after all.”
“And Chuck thinks Shaw’s just gonna willingly play a round of twenty questions? The guy is threatening my wife. Let me talk to him.” -SNIKT-
“We’re all fond of Storm,” Cyclops said. “But seeing as to whom we’re dealing with, there is a level of decorum needed and the Professor is best suited for the task. He’ll do whatever he can to protect Storm.”
“Could you maybe quit talking about me like I’m not in the room,” Ororo asked with a frown.
Logan squeezed the back of her neck reassuringly. “Sorry, babe.”
She relaxed slightly, leaning into his side. He wrapped one arm around her back, his warm hand resting on the soft swell of her hip.
“Until the Professor gets some answers, we’re just going to have to wait. Storm, you aren’t to leave the Institute,” Cyclops said firmly.
Ororo rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to let whoever is behind this scare me into hiding.”
“’Ro.” Sturdy fingers tightened on her hip in warning. She crossed her arms stubbornly.
“Perhaps a compromise,” Beast suggested, sensing tension brewing.
Ororo glanced at him. “Such as?”
“No leaving the Institute without an escort.” he suggested with a hopeful shrug.
Ororo nodded. “That sounds reasonable-”
“No. No leaving without me,” Logan amended.
“Fine.” she sighed, knowing that stubborn set of his jaw far too well to argue.

Rec Room

“Mom!” Jubilee shot up from her seat in front of the big screen TV where she and Bobby Drake were playing some video game, a wide grin on her face.
“Well, she adjusted to that rather well,” Ali commented. She and Ororo were on their way to the new nursery to pick up the babies for lunch, when Ororo had suggested they track down Jubilee and see if she wanted to join them.
Ororo laughed. “It would seem so.” She smiled at the petite brunettes racing towards her. “Hey, Jubes.”
Jubilee grinned, snapping a bubble. “What’re you two up to?”
“Just going to get the kids,” Ali said.
“Oh, yeah?”
Ororo inclined her head. “Mmhm. Thought we’d take lunch in the kitchen as opposed to the cafeteria, seeing as how there’s hardly anyone here now. Want to join us?”
“You bet. Let me tell Bobby where I’m going.” Jubilee turned to leave.
Ororo gave a half smile. “Logan’s not going to like that.”
“What? Jubie with Frosty?” Ali waved her hand. “Pfft. The kid’s harmless.”
“Ok, then you tell him.”
Ali laughed. “No thanks. I like my head attached to my shoulders.”
Ororo grinned. “Oh, he’s not that bad.”
“Right. And it’s safe to swallow razors.”
Jubilee returned a moment later, a smile on her pretty face and a rosy hue to her golden skin.
“Jubilation Lee!” Ororo gasped as Jubes shrugged into her ever present yellow slicker. She tilted the girl’s head to the side. “Is that a hickey?”
Jubilee blushed. “Uhhh…”
“You’d better pray your father doesn’t see that.” Ororo scolded.
Ali chuckled. “You’re pretty good at this Mom stuff.”
“Oh, yeah. A natural. I let my teenage daughter out of my sight for thirty seconds and she comes back hoovered. Swell parenting skills.”
“Could be worse,” Ali supplied.
“I fail to see how so.”
Ali‘s grin broadened. “She could be dating someone like Gambit and have a tattoo or two.”
“True.” Ororo chuckled.
“I ‘eard dat, chere.”
Ororo turned, smiling warmly at her attractive brother. “Still eavesdropping I see, brother dear?”
“Not at all, Stormy. Jus’ came t’ see what my favorite women were up t’.”
“Lunch.” Ali supplied, brushing a soft kiss on is lips.
“Sounds like a good idea. Jean be looking for you,” he said casually.
Ali tensed. “Did she say why?”
“Non. But she seemed jus’ as upset as you jus’ got, ma petite bella.” Gambit’s red on black eyes narrowed speculatively.
Ali tried to look nonchalant. “I’m not upset. Just wondering what Pom-Pom wants with me. I’d, uh, better go find out.” She backed away from the group. “I’ll catch you later, Storm. See you at dinner, Rem.”
“Sure t’ing, cherie,” Gambit said, quietly musing. “Is it jus’ me, or is Alison actin’ strange?”
“You mean more so than her usual freaky self?” Jubilee asked. “Nope. Odd as ever.”
Ororo watched her friend’s hasty retreat. “A bit,” she agreed with Gambit.
“Well, looks like it’s jus’ us for lunch den.” He ran one gloved hand through his auburn hair, his gaze still on the doorway Ali had disappeared through. Ali had barely slept all night, tossing and turning. At first Gambit thought she was simply upset over the disturbing present Stormy had received, but now he wondered if something else was bothering his new fiancé.


Boathouse
Later

Lucien cooed playfully at his father, who was at that moment, making ridiculous faces at the twins. Unlike Luke, Abigail seemed indifferent to her father’s antics, her red eyes watching Chance crawl across the floor.
“Uh-oh, chere. I t’ink my little girl already ‘as a crush on yer boy.” Gambit teased.
“Understandable,” Ororo replied. “He does look so much like his irresistible father.”
Gambit groaned. “Puh-lease, chere. If Chance gets ‘is looks and charisma from anyone, it be ‘is beautiful mot’er.”
Ororo leaned over and kissed his Whiskered cheek. “Ever the charmer,” she murmured.
Jubilee munched a dill pickle thoughtfully. “Y’know, Gamby may be right. Chance does look an awful lot like you, Mum.”
A flash of joy surged through Ororo at Jubilee’s repeated reference to her as her mother. She had been worried that Jubilee wouldn’t accept her as easily as she would Logan, especially considering how close they were in ages. “You think so?”
“Mmhm.” Jubes crunched the last of her pickle and began working on her macaroni salad.
Chance crawled up to Abigail’s pink and white bouncy seat and proceeded to make small grunting sounds at the curly topped girl. Abigail laughed and squealed happily.
Gambit picked up the precocious crawler, lifting him over his head. “Not so fast dere, little Romeo.” he teased.
Abigail let out a hearty wail and Gambit hurriedly placed Chance in front of her again. Ororo laughed as Abigail’s cry hushed instantly and she swatted aimlessly in Chance’s direction.
Lucien gurgled delightedly as Ororo spooned some banana baby food into his open mouth. She ran one finger over his cute little button nose. “If anyone’s going to be a charmer, I think it’ll be you, right, little man?” Lucien opened his mouth and a little burp escaped. He was adorable, Ororo mused, with his slightly darker auburn hair and his red on black eyes, so like his father’s, hidden behind a pair of baby sunglasses. He apparently also shared his father’s light sensitive eyes, whereas Abigail didn’t.
Ororo turned her attention to the curly haired girl who was gripping her father’s finger in fascination. Abigail had Remy’s red irises, but not the black background. The whites of her eyes seemed to glow faintly at all times. Her little bow lips were curved in a curious smile and Ororo thought maybe she and Remy were both mistaken. Perhaps the newest heartbreaker was a little girl with mischief eyes and a heart shaped mouth.
“Where’s Wolvie?” Jubilee asked after awhile. She was reluctant to give up her favorite nickname for her new Pappy, it made him seem more hers, her being allowed to call him that and no one else could.
“I think he’s in the Danger Room,” Ororo said with the smile she always got when thinking about her beloved husband. “Working off some steam.”

Danger Room


“Yeeaaarggg!!” The robotic head of the simulated Shinobi Shaw was torn clean off his shoulders, red and blue wires snapping and sparking. Wolverine held it up in front of his face, then with a snarl he sent three deadly claws through the black orb eyes. This was the fourth Shinobi he’d gutted and destroyed in the past hour, and still he wasn’t satisfied.
He had wanted to call forth a Sebastian Shaw simulation but found they had none on file. Damn. He wanted to gut that fucker too.
As much as she feigned nonchalance Logan knew Ororo was disturbed by recent events. If he hadn’t felt her tossing and turning all night, then the increased snowfall and blustering winds would have told him that she was upset.
With a disgusted snort he tossed the robotic head across the room and called up another program. For a moment there was no response, no change in the scenery, then the room flickered and a visual shimmered into being around him. Wolverine tensed. This was not the program he had called up. The Danger Room suddenly resembled Shinobi Shaw’s bedroom, the mirrored walls reflecting a very agitated looking Wolverine.
“I will have her.”
Wolverine whirled, the accented voice echoing through his mind. Shaw. No one was behind him. Not that he really expected there to be. The fucker was dead, gutted and castrated by Wolverine’s own hands. He sniffed the air, but caught nothing of the man he’d killed.
“I will take her from you, Wolverine, and there is nothing you can do to stop me, you pathetic little man.”
Logan shifted position, his body coiled and ready top strike. This was no Danger Room program, this was something else entirely. “End Program,” he commanded on a growl.
The room flickered and faded, but not before Wolverine heard low, male taunting laughter. He marched from the room, his angry strides taking him down the corridor and to the elevator. Time to have a little one on one with Xavier.

Headmaster’s Office

“When did this happen?” Charles Xavier asked, a worried frown on his face.
“Just now,” Wolverine growled.
The Professor nodded slowly, as if digesting what Logan had just told him. “My attempts to reach Sebastian Shaw have been unsuccessful. He has means and money, perhaps he has found a way to hack into our computer system. I will send for Shadowcat, and perhaps she can decipher what happened.” He rolled to the large window behind his desk, staring out at the swirling snow. “In the meantime, Wolverine, stay close to Ororo.”
There was an underlying tension in Xavier’s tone that raked over Logan like nails on a chalkboard. For the first time since he’d met the man, Professor Xavier looked completely unsettled. It was not something Logan had ever expected to see, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit.
“Ain’t no one getting near ‘Ro, Chuck.”
Xavier flashed him a quick glance. “I trust you to make certain of that, Wolverine. By whatever means necessary.”

Xavier Institute
Boathouse/ late night

Silken strands of winter hair threaded through blunt fingers, catching the faint moonlight streaming through the open skylight and glinting like polished silver. Logan watched his wife’s sleeping face, a swell of love rising in his chest. She was such an unexpected and beautiful gift to his life, and he couldn’t imagine living without her.
With infinite tenderness he brushed his firm lips against her soft ones. Even in sleep Ororo responded to him, her full lips parting on a soft sigh. Never one to refuse an invitation, Logan molded his mouth to hers, tasting her slowly, savoring her. She always tasted fresh and sweet, her inner recess a damp paradise for his tongue to explore, which he did now.
Ororo’s eyes fluttered, her arms finding their way up her husbands chest, her fingers tugging the short, dark hair at his nape. She sucked on the tip of his tongue, pulling on it in familiar rhythm. Logan growled, low and long and deep, the sound rumbling from his chest and making Ororo tingle all over. Goddess how she loved this man. She clutched his thick mane in tight fists, raising herself so that she lay atop him, between his parted legs, the hard evidence of his desire pressing into her abdomen.
Soon Logan’s unhurried kisses changed. Desire and passion swamping them as it always did. Hungrily they fed on each other, their lips devouring, sucking and licking in near wild abandon. Logan growled, rolling Ororo beneath him, burying his hands in her hair, tilting her face up to his. “I love ya so much, baby,” he whispered. “Yer my heart. My everything.”
“Logan.” There was a wealth of feeling in his name, a longing and a love that went beyond words and was voiced instead by the rumble of thunder over head and the flashes of white lightening across the midnight sky.
With a soft moan, she pressed herself along Logan’s hard body, swinging one long leg over his hips, pulling him down to her.
“Love you,” she whispered, raising herself so that he could adjust his erection against her slick opening.
“Love ya,” he groaned back as he pushed himself into he in a slow, smooth glide.
“Ohhhh.” Ororo smiled, her inner walls clamping on him like a vise.
“Jesus, woman.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath hitching.
With a careful lift of her hips and a controlled flex of her innermost muscles she made her husband jerk, a labored breath kissing between his clenched teeth. “Fuck, ‘Ro. When’d ya learn that little trick?”
Instead of answering she repeated the clench and delighted in Logan’s unrestrained reaction. His lips curled in a snarl of pleasure, his eyes closed tight as he fought for control. Deciding she wasn’t in the mood for control Ororo clenched again, her fingernails scoring Logan’s back.
“’Ro,” he growled, his hips snapping forward of their own accord, unable to hold still a moment longer.
“Yes, darlin’?” she mimicked his drawl.
“Yer a minx.” He gave a choked laugh that turned into a throaty groan when she bent her head and her soft pink tongue flicked his flat nipple, followed by the brief graze of her teeth. “Yer asking for it,” he warned.
“No,” she whispered, her breath fanning his ear as she caught the lobe between her teeth. “I’m begging for it.” She locked her legs around his hips and undulated against him, her bottom leaving the mattress.
“Ask and ye shall receive…” Logan gripped her hands, pinning her to the bed, thrusting in and out of her.
“Oh, Goddess, yes!” Ororo bit his shoulder.
“That’s my girl.” Logan released her hands to grip her hips, holding her firm as he pounded her, his eyes heavy lidded as he watched his cock sinking in and out of her sweet, wet heat. “Fuck.” He grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs wide as he plunged himself into her again and again and again. The mad tattoo of the headboard against the wall echoing each thrust and grunt he made.
With a ragged moan Ororo pulled the pillow over her face, afraid her frantic cries would wake the baby. She sobbed in pleasure when she felt the firm tips of Logan’s fingers probing her glossy folds, brushing her clit over and over.
Logan jerked the pillow out of her hands, tossing it onto the floor. “I wanna see ya,” he said. He rotated his hips, pressing her clit as he did.
Ororo bit her lip, a broken cry escaping.
“Like that?”
She nodded mutely, unable to open her mouth for fear of screaming.
Logan thrust harder, and faster, filling her to the hilt, his flesh slapping hers. Ororo closed her eyes, tears of pleasure slipping through dark lashes. “Logan. Oh, Logan…”
“That’s it, baby. Come fer me. Soak me in yer sweet juice.”
Ororo pushed at his chest. He sat back obediently and Ororo turned onto her stomach, lifting her backside into the air. “Make me come.” she demanded.
“What’d you have fer dinner, darlin’? Cuz we’re havin’ it every night.” He joked as he pulled her back and slid into her.
Ororo gasped, the feeling of him filling her up momentarily stealing her breath. “Oh, my…”
“Yeah.” Logan’s fingers bit into the smooth muscle of her buttocks and he bent over her, his teeth nipping along her back and neck. “Tell me what ya want…”
“You.”
“Hnh.”
“Hard.”
“Hngh.”
“Hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Deep.”
“Like that?”
“Uhhhnn…deeper.”
“Here.”
“Oh. Oh, Goddess, yesss.”
“Fuck.”
“Uh-huh. Like that.”
Logan slammed into his beautiful wife, fisting her hair in one hand, and holding her shoulder with the other as he took her to the brink and beyond. She writhed against him, her orgasm crashing through her with such force that she almost passed out. Logan followed, the corded muscles on his neck and shoulders standing out as he threw his head back and groaned her name, his body jerking reflexively as he came and came and came.
After several minutes Logan groaned. “Sweet Jesus, yer gonna be the death of me.”
Ororo laughed huskily. “ I sincerely hope not. I plan on many more nights just like this.”
Logan rolled from her back and pulled her down on top of him, kissing her slowly. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmmhmm.” she nodded.
“Who knew you were such a sex crazed little minx.”
She swatted his arm playfully. “Well, if you find my demands too taxing for you-”

Logan silenced her with a thorough kiss. “Shut up.”
Ororo smiled. “I love you.”
“I know.”

Morning

“Morning, Mum, Pappy.” Jubilee sauntered into the kitchen, yawning. She tightened the knot on her bright robe and opened the fridge, pulling out a container of orange juice. She snapped open the carton, placing it to her lips.
“Jubilee.” Ororo raised one eye brow over Chance‘s head. “We have cups.” she said, spooning rice into Chance’s open mouth.
Jubilee sighed, opening the cupboard. “Pappy drinks from the container.”
Ororo gave Logan a dubious look.
“Tattletale,” he grumbled, opening the newspaper.
Ororo smiled. “So, what are your plans today, Jubilee?”
“Not much. I was going to go shopping with Kitty, but I think she made plans with the blue hottie. I’ll just catch a movie with Bobby.”
At this the newspaper went down. “I don’t think so.”
Ororo ducked her head, hiding her grin.
Jubilee frowned. “Why not?”
“How about the hickey yer sportin’ as a ‘why not’,” Logan said in a deep growl.
Jubilee touched her neck self-consciously. “What? Like you didn’t get hickeys when you were a teenager,” she said with a huff.
“No.” he answered. “I didn’t.”
“Yes, he was much older,” Ororo quipped, still grinning.
Logan growled at her.
“Mom?” Jubilee looked at Ororo for support, thinking she had found an ally.
“Don’t look at me, hon. I didn’t date.” at Logan’s pointed look, she added, “but if I had, I’m sure it would’ve been hickey-less dating.”
“Riiight.” Jubilee finished her orange juice. “If the sounds I heard coming from your room last night are any indication as to what you two are like, then--”
“Don’t ya have a movie ta go watch,” Logan interrupted.
Jubilee grinned. “Thanks, Pappy.” She raced from the room, afraid he would change his mind.
“Where are you going?” Ororo asked a moment later when Logan reached for his jacket.
“Ta have a talk with Popsicle.” The door slammed behind him.
Ororo gave the cooing Chance a teasing smile. “I hope you weren’t too fond of uncle Bobby…”

Danger Room
Later

Kitty scrolled through the program files, her deep honey eyes scanning for any abnormalities. She’d been at this for hours, and her head was starting to pound.
“Anything?”
“No. Nothing.” she answered her blue furred boyfriend.
Kurt leaned over her shoulder and Kitty was momentarily distracted by his warm, fresh scent. Without thinking she leaned towards him, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. When she opened them again she found Kurt staring at her, his eyes glowing faintly. She blushed. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be.” His dark head bent and his silken lips teased hers. “I like that you enjoy my scent.”
“I enjoy everything about you,” Kitty whispered.
“Ja?”
“Ja.” she answered. With trembling fingers she traced the long lines of his ears and Kurt closed his golden eyes, a deep shudder coursing through him.
“Leibling.” he whispered, kissing her again, this time deeply.
Kitty slid her hands up his shoulders, pulling his head closer as she met his kiss, pouring her heart into the embrace. She gasped when he bit her lip and he chuckled.
“We’d best get back to work,” he said, slowly pulling away.
“Uhh, yeah.” Kitty fanned herself.
After another hour passed she shook her head. “Nothing. Everything looks fine.”
“Hmm. What about the security tapes?” Kurt asked, his accent turning the what into Vat, and making Kitty smile. She loved his voice. She loved him.
“What about them?”
“Well, if no one hacked the system, maybe someone was here. Messing with stuff.”
Kitty nodded. “I’ll check.”
“Do you want me to ‘port us to the control room?”
“Not at all, sweetie. Where there’s a computer, I have a way,” she grinned. With a few nimble key strokes Kitty pulled up the security records for the past week. For a long while there was nothing unusual. Footage of the rec room showed Colossus and Jubilee playing pinball, and then Bobby and Jubilee making out. Kitty chuckled. To think she’d once found Bobby attractive.
The outside footage showed Wolverine and Gambit patrolling the Institute, both smoking, beer in hand, their arrogant swaggers almost mimicking each other. Other angles showed the usual outdoor winter activity of the students, nothing out of the ordinary. Kitty fast forwarded until something caught her eye. Ali and Jean in the lower corridor, engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation. Kitty rewound and played back the ten minute exchange.
“Can you get sound?” Kurt asked.
“I think I can.” Kitty’s nimble digits danced along the keys and then she played the footage again.
“We have to tell them.” That was Ali.
“We can’t. You know what will happen if we do. We’ll be kicked out for sure.”
“Jean, we’ve got to. He sent her a fucking heart. A heart! C’mon.”
“We don’t know that it was even him.”
“Like hell we don’t.”
“Alison-”
“We’ve got to.”
“Where will you go when the Professor boots us? Where will you take your babies, Dazzler?”
Ali threw up her hands in frustration. “Well, we can’t just sit back and do nothing. We have to warn them.”
“I’m not suggesting we do nothing. We’ll fight if we have to. But they can never know what we did.”
“We saved her life. I‘d do it again!”
“I know. So would I.”
“Sebastian promised to keep him under control…”
Jean shook her head. “We both knew he could’ve been lying. There was no guarantee.”
“But Tessa would’ve warned us. I mean, she promised, so why wouldn’t she…?”
Both women looked away from each other.
“Tessa’s dead,” Jean said flatly. “That much should be obvious.”
“You think it’s her heart?”
“No. It was far too large to be hers.”
“Damn it, Jean. What are we going to do?”
“We wait.”
Kitty sat back in her chair, her mouth slightly agape.
“What did they do?” Kurt whispered.
Kitty shook her head. “I don’t know. And I don’t know if I want to know.”
“We should give this to the Professor.”
Kitty chewed her lower lip. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Or maybe we should talk to Jean and Ali.”
Kurt nodded. “And Storm and Wolverine.”
“All right.”

Boathouse

Ororo tilted the watering can, humming softly under her breath, a contented smile on her face. She glanced out the window to where Logan was playing with Chance in the snow. She laughed quietly at Chance’s delighted squeals as his father tossed him up it the air. Never in her life had she dreamed she could be this happy, this fulfilled.
Warm breath stirred the hairs on her neck. “Not that you deserve it.”
Ororo tensed. Shinobi. She would never forget his voice, not ever. She whirled, around quickly, but there was no one behind her. Keep it together, Ororo. You’re still just a little creeped out by the heart. He’s dead.
Fingertips brushed her cheek, making her flinch. “Soft as silk.”
“You’re dead.” she said aloud.

“Do I feel dead?”
Ororo felt like someone was pressing against her. She staggered away from the window, moving towards the kitchen. She turned on the tap, running cold water, splashing her face. Relax. It’s all in your head. He’s dead. Just keep telling yourself, he’s dead.
“Yes, just keep telling yourself that.” Shinobi’s voice whispered in her head.
“Leave me alone.” Ororo said, holding her ears.
“Never. I‘m always going to be with you. Watching you.”
With a strangled cry she pushed away from the counter and made her way into the living room. This wasn’t real. Stress. That’s all it was. Stress. She thought of Logan and Chance outside and she relaxed a bit. Her family.
“Storm…”
She ignored the voice.
“Storm.”
She fluffed the throw pillows that lined the couch.
“Storm!”
She took a deep breath, but forced herself to remain relaxed.
“Do not ignore me!!”
Suddenly she was shoved forward, her knees banging against the coffee table.
“You are mine, whore.”
Ororo raced for the front door. She needed to get out, needed to be free of the confines of the house. She needed fresh air. She yanked open the screen door and screamed. “LOGAN!!”
Logan had been heading back towards the house, noticing the swift approaching storm heading their way, and wanting to check on ‘Ro, when her scream rent the air. He held Chance tight against his chest, breaking into a run.
Ororo stood in the open doorway of their home, her face ashen and clearly shaken.
“’Ro?” He slowed, his eyes searching the area for immediate danger, his stance predatory and protective. On the front steps to their porch lay a dozen long stem red roses and on top of them sat a square black box. Logan stepped over them, handing Chance to Ororo. “Get in the house,” he ordered.
“No,” she said. “I can’t go back in there.”
Logan gave her a questioning stare.
“I can’t,” was all she said.
He nodded. “Turn away.”
Ororo did as she was told and Logan picked up the black box, flipping open the lid. Inside lay two deep brown eyes, split open by adamantium claws. Logan swore.
“What is it?” Ororo whispered.
“Eyes.”
Ororo turned, keeping Chance faced over her shoulder, away from the box. “Where’s the card?”
“I don’t see one.”
“There’s a card.” she sounded certain.
Logan dumped the eyes onto the ground, lifting the bottom out of the box. Sure enough there was a small card. “I am always watching you.” he read aloud.
Ororo gave a short humorless laugh. “He needs to work on his originality.”
“I ain’t finding this funny,” Wolverine growled. He was unnerved by how someone slipped by him to leave another ‘gift’ on their porch. “Whoever this fucker is, he’s wearing my last fuckin’ nerve.”
“Logan. Language,” Ororo corrected, almost automatically, tiredly.
“What happened, ‘Ro?” he asked, noticing her haggard expression.
“I thought--I thought I heard Shinobi. I know, it’s crazy-”
“No, it ain’t. I thought I heard him the other day in the danger room.”
Ororo’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me.”
“Didn’t want ya ta worry.”
“What in the world is going on?” she whispered, stepping into his arms.
“I don’t know, but I aim ta find out.” he vowed.
*BAMF*
“Maybe we can help.”

Loft

Gambit stretched, watching Ali with narrowed eyes. “What’s on your mind, bella?”
“Huh?” Ali barely glanced at him, continuing to chew her nails, a sure sign that she was upset.
Gambit sat up, running one hand through his sex tousled hair. “Dere be somet’in up wit’ you, chere.”
Ali feigned a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Alison, don’ lie. Not t’ me.”
Ali sighed. “I did a bad thing, Rem.”
“How bad?” he asked, gut tight.
Ali laughed, sensing his thoughts. “Not that kind of bad, Yummy. I’m a one man woman.”
Gambit’s shoulders relaxed a bit. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, massaging the tension from her, watching her with hooded, unreadable eyes. “Talk t’ me, bebe.”
“Jean and I…we did…” she swallowed. “We did what we had to do.”
“Dat don’ tell me nuttin, cherie.”
“For Storm. We did what we had to do to save her, and I don’t for one second regret that. But there are consequences to what we did, Etienne. And they are far greater than we anticipated.”
“Dis ‘ave somet’in t’ do wit’ Stormy’s Christmas present?” Gambit’s voice held a slight edge.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Ali took a deep breath. “Shinobi Shaw is alive, and Jean and I are the ones that saved him.” There. She’d said it.
“What?!?” Ororo stood in the doorway, her eyes glowing white.

Ororo’s face was disbelieving, not wanting to believe what she had just heard spill from her best friend’s lips. Giving truth to the lie. Shinobi was alive? No. Please, no.
Ali stood up, her long green tee shirt brushing her upper thighs. “Storm-” she began, her eyes wide with remorse and a touch of fear.
Ororo’s eyes flashed angry white. “He’s alive?” She strode into the room, slamming the door behind her with jarring force. The hinges creaked in protest and Ali jerked. Ororo crossed her arms, her mouth set in a grim line. “Start talking.”

Elsewhere

“Start talkin’, Red.” Wolverine stood in the lattice work archway of the Professor’s arboretum, his presence surprising Jean when she turned from the hybrid tree she was currently taking notes on.
Green eyes widened fractionally, but she held her composure well. “Excuse me?”
Wolverine stalked forward, his stride anything but casual. “Want me ta spell it out? What in the fuck did you and Alison do? And what does it have ta do with the weirdness going on now?”
Jean took a step back. “Wolverine…”
“Don’t try that tone with me, Jean. What the fuck did ya do?”
Jean clamped her jaw. “What we had to.”
“And what exactly was that?” he snarled, his tension and anger mounting exponentially to how long she drug her answers out.
Sensing this, Jean took a hasty step back. “Wolverine, calm down.”
-SNIKT- “I am calm.”

Loft

“Stormy, chere, calm down,” Gambit stood, wrapping the sheet from the bed around his lean waist, trying to head off the confrontation he saw brewing.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLE!!
“I am calm.”
“Obviously.” Gambit rolled his red on black eyes.
Ali sighed heavily, rubbing her dark hair. “Rem, it’s fine. She has every right to be pissed.”
Gambit took in Storm’s volatile expression. “Non, I don’ t’ink pissed covers it, bebe. Stormy, be reasonable.” he said, trying his smooth placating tone.
Storm flashed him an annoyed look. “Reasonable, Gambit? The bastard that tried to rape me and had me mind-maniped for months is apparently alive and well, courtesy of my sister, my best friend, and I’m to be reasonable?!?”
KRAKKA-BOOM.
She turned back to Alison, her normally beautiful blue eyes still glazed white in her fury. “My first question is how? How is that rotten bastard still breathing? I watched Wolverine gut that sicko. I saw his insides spill out onto his tacky bedroom carpet, so how? How is he still alive?”

Arboretum

“His body was dead. Is dead,” Jean stated, answering Wolverine’s question as to how Shaw survived being gutted like a fish.. “But the night you killed him, there was a telepath in his house. Emma Frost. A blonde haired strumpet and Shinobi’s personal plaything.”
Wolverine said nothing, vaguely recalling the cloying scent of Dior all around the room when he had exploded through the door, scant seconds before Shaw violated his beautiful ‘Ro. At the time he had been too consumed with rage to pay much attention to it.
“She heard you come in. She heard screaming, and when Shinobi reached out to her with his mind in his last seconds of life, she latched onto him.” Jean ran both hands through her red hair. “She stripped his psyche from his body and absorbed it into her own mind.”
Wolverine grunted, acknowledging that he understood. “So this blonde bimbo absorbed Shaw?”
Jean nodded. “More or less, yes.”
“That still don’t explain what the hell you and Alison were doing gettin‘ mixed up with Shaw.”
“To save Storm.”
“Hank and Chuck did gene therapy on Storm.” Wolverine stated.
Jean exhaled. “Yes, and it was useless. She was too far gone for the treatment to do any good. If I could have done anything else, I would have, Wolverine. Believe that. But I had no choice. If Storm was to live, I had to…”
Wolverine’s eyes narrowed. “Had to what?”
“What does it matter. Shinobi himself had nothing to do with helping Storm. Sebastian Shaw provided the cure.”
“How very benevolent of him,” Wolverine snarled. “Where’s the catch?”

Loft

There was a long silence as Ororo digested the information Ali had just given her. “So you went to Sebastian Shaw?” Ororo asked, completely astounded.
Ali shook her head. “Yes. We did. Jean approached me with this plan...”
“Come again?”
“I know it’s hard to believe. I had a hard time believing it when she came to me with the idea, but it’s true. Sebastian Shaw is incredibly wealthy an powerful, and word on the street was that he was looking for a powerful psychic. The money he was offering was mind boggling. Jean knew she could take whatever job he had lined up.”
Ororo clenched her teeth. “She went to Sebastian for money?”
Ali shook her head. “No. For a cure, for you.”
“But why?”
“The therapy wasn’t working, Storm. You were dying. It was obvious.”
“Is dat why she got well so quick?” Gambit asked. “You bought some cure wit’ da money Shaw gave you?”
“We didn’t need the money. He had the cure.”
Ororo frowned. She had met Sebastian briefly. He didn‘t seem the humanitarian type. “What? How?”

Arboretum

“Shaw Industries Bio-lab created the virus that Storm was injected with. Sebastian Shaw has several contracts with the government, using his power and influence to keep the members of his Hellfire Club protected. He would naturally have the antibody needed to counteract the virus.” Jean was saying. “When I heard he was looking for a psychic, I approached him.”
“How?”
“Through Ali.”
“How does Alison come into play?”
“Alison’s family is very wealthy. They run in some of the same social circles as the Shaws. I thought maybe we could use her connections to make contact. I was right.”
Wolverine raised one brow. Ali was rich? “Then what?”
“We arranged a meeting.” Jean began to pace. “To discuss what he needed a telepath for.”
“I’m listening,” he prodded when she paused.
She gave him a pleading look. “Surely you can see where this is going?”
“I ain’t likin’ it,” he said flatly.
“Would you rather I let her die, Wolverine?” Jean demanded.
Wolverine growled. “Ya know damn well the answer ta that question. But what ya did, what you and Alison did, was open up a can o’ worms that we have ta deal with. And ta deal with it, I need ta know exactly what the fuck I’m dealin’ with!”
Jean winced at his feral tone. “Sebastian and Shinobi never saw eye to eye, but he was still his son and Sebastian wanted him back. Unfortunately Shinobi was trapped in Emma’s head.”
“So you peeled him out?”
“Yes.”
“And did what?”
“Put him in another body.”

Loft

“Merde.” Gambit reached for his cigarettes.
Ororo felt the pressure in her chest building. “So, not only is he alive, but he’s walking around in a brand spanking new body?”
Ali ducked her head. “Yes.”
“Do you know what he looks like?”
“No. I never saw him.”
“Jean.” Ororo frowned. “Why would she do this?”
“For Wolverine.” Ali supplied. “He was devastated without you. We all were.”
Ororo softened a bit at that. “I know you did what you thought was right, Ali, but to bring Shinobi back…” she shuddered. “He’s dangerous.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be. Tessa, Xavier’s liaison, had convinced Sebastian of Shinobi’s duplicity and he had informed us that although Shinobi would be alive, he would be under control. Handled, so to speak.”
“And you believed him?”
“We had nothing to lose.” Ali defended.
“Alison.” Storm approached her friend. “We have everything to lose. Shinobi is clever, and cold, and calculating. It is painfully obvious he has his twisted little mind set on revenge.”
“I know. I see that now,” Ali nodded. “I swear, Storm, all I wanted was to save you. I didn’t give a shit about the consequences. I love you, and you were dying.” Ali’s lips quivered. “I would do it again.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
Ororo sighed. She knew Ali’s heart was in the right place. But the consequences…
“Well, if ’e is bein’ kept under control, den ’ow did ’e send da ’eart?”
Ali grimaced. “We’ve tried to reach Sebastian and Tessa to no avail. It’s safe to assume they aren’t going to be getting back to us.”
“Why not?” Gambit asked.
“They’re dead.” Wolverine said from the door, Jean beside him.
Ororo turned to her husband, relief reflected in the blue depths of her gaze. She was afraid, and loathe to admit it, but he could feel it. Shinobi had invaded her mind, violated her body and made her doubt herself. Wolverine opened his arms and Ororo stepped into their protective circle, laying her head on his shoulder.
Jean and Ali exchanged long looks, neither speaking. The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Gambit.
“What is it?” he asked, taking Ali’s hand in his and bringing her fingers to his lips.
Ali’s eyes watered at his tender affection. “I never saw the body Jean put Shinobi into. But it wouldn’t have mattered if I had.”
“Why’s dat?”
“It was a shifter.” Ali stated flatly.
“Jesus Christ,” Wolverine growled. “Ya couldn’t have put him in a normal body? Ya had ta stick him in a mutant, and a fuckin’ shape shifter at that. Priceless, Jeannie.”
Jean glared at him. “It’s not like I got to choose the damn body, Wolverine.”
“Stop.” Ororo said quietly. “It’s done. It can’t be undone.” She kissed Wolverine’s cheek before turning to Jean and Ali. “Thank you both.”
Mouths drooped open in stunned silence.
“I appreciate what you did, don’t for one moment believe I don’t, because I do. However, you both kept this hidden from all of us. This secret deed that you did. In doing so you left us vulnerable to attack.”
“We know now who we’re dealin’ wit’.” Gambit said. “No need ta panic. We jus’ take ‘im out, but for good dis time.”
One corner of Wolverine‘s mouth quirked up. “I like the way you think.”
Gambit shrugged one muscled shoulder. “What can I say? You be rubbin’ off on dis Cajun, non.”
Some of the tension eased from the room.
“So. Now what?” Ali asked.
“Now, we leave so Gumbo can put on some pants. Then we go see Xavier.”

Headmaster’s office

“Chuck?” Wolverine pushed on the partially opened door. The office looked ransacked, the desk flipped over, papers strewn everywhere. -SNIKT- “Stay back,” he said over his shoulder to the three others in the hall. He sniffed the room, picking up several scents, and not being familiar with the entire student body he couldn’t discern which one didn’t belong.
He circled the room. No sign of the Professor. “Jean, see if ya can get a hold of Wheels.” He stepped from the room back into the hall, retracting and grabbing Storm’s hand.
“What’s up?” Alison asked. She tried to see past him.
He shook his head, waiting for Jean.
*Professor?*
*Yes, Jean.*
*Where are you?*
*With Scott. We are in the lower science lab. Why?*
“He’s with Scott,” she told Wolverine.
“Is he sure it’s Scott?” Ali asked, getting the idea that Wolverine was reluctant to voice.
“He’s the most powerful telepath on the planet, Dazzler. Yeah, I think he knows,” Jean said.
*Jean? What is the matter?* Xavier repeated.
She looked at Wolverine, who nodded. *We think Shinobi Shaw is in the mansion.*
*…*
*Professor?* Jean was hesitant, sensing the disapproval in his mind.
*I feared as much.*
*We’re sorry, Professor-*
*Yes, Jean. I know. We will deal with a proper punishment later. Now we must deal with this new threat.*
Wolverine tensed and Ororo followed his steely gaze.
“Hey, Storm.” Warren’s golden head bobbed around the corner and he was waltzing down the corridor, a dozen roses in his arms and a gold box on hand. “These just came for you.”
Ororo felt her hands go clammy, her fingers tingling. She tried to pull free of Wolverine’s grasp, but he squeezed her hand, holding her firm.
He nodded to the younger mutant. “Set it on the floor, Boy, and leave.”
Warren looked confused.
“Just do it, War,” Ali said softly.
“Ok.” Warren placed the flowers and box on the floor and backed away from the four of them, watching them all like they’d grown second heads.
Wolverine bent and picked up the genuine gold box. It was engraved with Egyptian symbols and had a very elaborate looking lock.
With trembling fingers Ororo reached into her hair, pulling free the solitary bobby pin she wore behind her left ear. She gestured for the box.
“Darlin’…”
“Wolverine. The box,” she said flatly.
He handed it to her reluctantly. Ororo slid the in through the small opening and within seconds she heard a faint click as the lock gave. Wolverine took the box back, opening it. Inside lay the preserved remains of Shinobi Shaw’s castrated dick.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ali gasped on a gag.
Jean turned away, holding her mouth.
Gambit smirked. “Well, least we know why da man’s so pissed off all da time.”
Ororo looked at Logan. “The card?”
He shook his head. None.
Ororo glanced at the flowers on the floor. Without a word she picked them up, unfurling the tissue paper and sending red roses and maggots spilling onto the marble floor. She sifted through the leaves and bugs, looking for his card. There was always a card. Where was the damn card?!? She was frantic.
“’Ro.” Wolverine touched her shoulder. “Baby.”
“There’s always a card.” she said breathlessly. “Where is it?” She tossed petals aside. “Where?”
“Stormy,” Gambit was worried. He’d never seen Storm so agitated.
Wolverine pulled her from the floor, turning her in his arms. “Darlin’. Stop. Just breathe.”
Ororo shuddered. “He’s dead. He’s supposed to be dead.”
“Sshh. He can’t hurt ya, babe. I won’t let him.”
Ororo nodded, her eyes glittering with determination. She was with Logan and together they could do anything. She stepped away from him and smiled reassuringly.
*BAMF*
“Hey.” Kitty greeted. She glanced at the four very tense people in front of her. “Is everything all right?”
“No!” they said in unison.
“Ok.” Kitty backed into Kurt, who wrapped his arm across her shoulders protectively.
Ororo raised one silver brow at the pair, a sudden fear clawing at her gut. “Where’s Chance?”
Kitty shrugged. “Jubes wanted to take him for a walk.”
Storm tensed, her breath hitching and labored. “Was Bobby with her?”
Kitty shook her head. “No, why?”
Ororo rushed forward and roughly grabbed Kurt by the front of his shirt. “Bamf me NOW!!!”
*BAMF*
“Storm!” Wolverine reached for her, but his fingers only closed on the faint cloud of brimstone left behind by Nightcrawler’s teleportation. “SONUVABITCH!!” He took off down the corridor, Gambit and Ali hot on his heels.
Kitty looked at Jean. “What the hell was that all about?”
Jean simply closed her eyes, tears coursing down her pale cheeks. “Dear, God, no…”

Boathouse

*BAMF*
“Leave.” Ororo ordered the second they touched ground. “Now. Get Wolverine.”
“Be careful, fraulin.” *BAMF*
“Where are you, you bastard?” Ororo asked, looking around the white landscape. A flutter of paper on her front door caught her attention. She stumbled up the step in her haste, ripping the posted letter from the door.

Storm, or do you prefer Ororo?
I prefer Mystery. Leaves something to the imagination, doesn’t it?
You and that worthless mongrel you let rut between your thighs took away my chance for having a son of my own. Now I have taken yours. There is a karma to life, Mystery. A beautiful balance. You took away my future and now I have returned the favor. All you had to do was be mine and none of this need to have happened. Think of all the pain you could have prevented. He could have been our son. But, alas you turned out to be no more than a stupid whore, unworthy to be my queen. Even as I write these harsh words, my foolish love for you will not die. Life can be so tragic. Goodbye, Mystery. Say farewell to your heart.

The screaming was relentless and heartbreaking.
Wolverine crested the snow covered hill, racing down the slope towards his home when the most awful scream he’d ever heard filled the sky, echoing in the clouds, thunder booming so loud it was deafening, but still he heard the scream.
“’RO!”
Lightening slammed into the snow, sending plumes of white fluff fifty feet in the air. Winds swirled and thunder growled. The sky was a black cauldron of violence and power. Trees were being sucked from the ground, torn up by their roots, spinning in the cyclone roaring a mother’s agony overhead. Boards rattled and the side of the boathouse tore loose, tumbling across the ground, nearly taking Wolverine in the head.
“ORORO!” He could make out her kneeling, screaming form, but couldn’t get to her, the winds pushing him back. He grunted as a tree limb sent him backwards. Snow and sleet lashed his face, drawing blood, the temperature dropping to dangerous lows. Ice was forming along Storm‘s face and shoulders, thick layers, caking her. “Storm!!” He dug his claws into the snow, crawling his way to her, his stomach scraping ice and rocks the closer he got to her. “Storm! Baby, stop!”
Ororo blinked, her scream dying into a hoarse croak. Everything stopped. Trees and debris fell to the earth. She looked at him and Wolverine wanted to die. That fucking bastard had done it. She was broken.
“Baby.” He made his way to her. “Show me.” His heart hammered. God, could he face seeing the body of his son? Could he handle that?
Ororo held out a crumpled piece of paper.
Wolverine read it twice, the beast inside brutally pushing it’s way to the surface, and only one thought kept it at bay. Chance was alive. Somewhere, Chance was alive. He dropped to his wife’s side, pulling her into his shaking arms. “We’ll get him back, ‘Ro. I swear.”
Ororo sobbed into his neck. “My fault. All my fault.”
“No, darlin’. This sick fuck is ta blame. Don’t ya ever forget that. Not you, ‘Ro. Never you.”
Ororo gripped his leather jacket tightly. “…Make him suffer.” she whispered.
Logan tilted her face. “What?”
She wiped her eyes, her deep sapphire chilling to ice blue. “We will make him suffer.”
“That’s my girl.”

There was so much blood. A pool of it at his feet, a scarlet river flowing down his chest. There was pain. So much pain. Would it ever stop? A thousand cuts, a thousand burns, taunting laughter telling him it would never end.
He couldn’t believe he was so fucking helpless. His power and strength drained from him, leaving him limp and broken. Reduced to such a pitiful state. A state of perpetual agony. Agony that continued, went on relentlessly. No breaks, no reprieve. Just endless pain. Suffering.
A madman wielding a knife and blowtorch with maniacal pleasure against his charred flesh. He knew he was supposed to be looking for something…someone… but the memory was curiously fading beneath the pain…the endless pain….
***
“Bastards!!” Storm slammed her fists into the wall, her shoulders heaving as she screamed and screamed. Her son, her husband. Gone. Taken from her. NO! NO! NO! “AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!” She slammed herself against the wall again. “Let me out!!! I have to find my son!!! Let me out!!” She pounded the bullet proof glass of the mirror that lined the wall.
On the opposite side of the two way mirror Shinobi Shaw smiled.
“Shh. I know, Mystery.” He soothed, even though she couldn’t hear him.
The flats of Storm’s hands slapped the glass, and she seemed to stare right at him. “I’ll kill you.” she swore. “Every last one of you.”
Shinobi reached out tentatively and touched the cool glass with the tips of his fingers. “Storm…”
***

He was paralyzed. He couldn’t move, not even his vocal cords. He was helpless, completely vulnerable to the people tearing him apart. He heard the taunts of a man he knew he should know, but couldn’t place. He heard the laughter when he vomited. But he refused to acknowledge it, refused to acknowledge the pain that was being inflicted on him.
Death. God, what he wouldn’t give for death… But he’d be damned if he’d succumb like that. He’d live just to spite them. Fuck ‘em.
He watched his tormentors with ice cold eyes, predator’s eyes, his gaze unblinking, focused, promising brutal retaliation. Time held no meaning for him now, his mind worn by the never ending torture.
He smelled butane, then heard the soft whoosh and hiss of the blowtorch being lit. White hot heat licked his face, the pain beyond reason, his lips peeling back from blackened teeth as they burned his flesh away…
In the swirling madness threatening to engulf him, he felt her. A woman. He had no idea who she was, only that the idea of her soothed his pain, eased his suffering. He tried to remember who she might be…was she important to him? She must have been for him to think of her now, while his eyeballs boiled in his skull. He futilely tried to hold onto his thoughts of her, but the pain poured out of him now, a raging torrent that he was powerless to stop…

***
Ororo lay curled up on the bed in her small room. Sweat beaded on her skin as she fought against the crushing emotional pain welling up inside of her. The pain was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. It went on and on--hours at a time, unending. Pain tore through her and she felt as if someone had punched a hole through her chest and ripped out her heart.
*Ororo.*
*Stay out of my head.*
*Ororo, you need help.*
*What I need is for you to LET ME OUT!*
*I know this is difficult for you…*
*You don’t know shit. Let me out.*
*Ororo, you’re sick.*
*Let me out. I need to find my son.*
*Ororo, you have no son. You never did.*
*Liar!*
*We’ve been over this. You have no son. It is all in your head.*
*Lies!! My son is Chance. My husband is Wolverine!*
*Your husband is Shinobi Shaw. You have no son. You miscarried and you had a mental breakdown.*
*GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!*
Ororo rolled onto her stomach, holding her hands over her ears as she screamed and screamed, until her voice was raw and the horrible voice in her head stopped.
***

Gut-wrenching agony. Fuck!
Long tubes of heated metal were shoved into his abdomen, impaling him. He roared as they were twisted, the pain making him black out.
A short time later he blinked half healed eyes open, the room a foggy blur. Blood covered everything, making the room a red haze. A man stepped forward, his smooth cultured tones grating on his nerves like the glass they ground into his back. The man pulled the tube from his abdomen with a vicious jerk and he heard himself scream with agony. He bared his fangs, a feral growl echoing in his chest, even as blood bubbled from his lips.
“You are a fool.” The voice of his tormentor hissed in his ear.
He lunged forward, but his wrists were manacled at painfully awkward angles making it a useless exercise, only serving to reopen old wounds and cause himself more pain. But pain was good. Pain meant he was alive.
Days passed and hunger entered his world of pain. Agony and hunger. Nothing else existed for him. Endless moments stretched out before him and he could remember nothing but agony and hunger. Agony and hunger.
The dreams were the most terrible part. In the brief moments of reprieve, when the blackness claimed him, when his body could no longer stand the razor blade inflicted wounds or the blazing pain of fiery needles, he dreamt of her. A woman. He knew her. He knew her. Who was she? With her snow white hair and crystalline eyes. Who? He would call to her in his dreams, beg her to come to him, but she never did. She was always just out of reach.
And soon, anger at this invaded his world of agony and hunger. He began to hate. A hatred that fed him, even as his body starved. In the place of the man, a monster grew. A monster that thrived on pain and hate…
***

Ororo jerked awake, blinking rapidly to bring the room into focus. Bedding was scattered everywhere, her pillow shredded by her own hands. Feathers and fabric littered her room, her cell. Her prison.
She ran one hand through her short sweat dampened hair, trying to recall the dream that woke her. A man. With a thick mane of ebony hair and dark eyes, with a touch of cruelty around his sensual mouth, as if hardened by life.
She rose and walked around the room, rubbing her scalp in agitation. She paused, her fingers sore. Pulling her hand away from her head she looked at her fingertips. They were slightly scabbed, as if the skin had been rubbed off.
She frowned. Why would she have done such a thing? She gave the room a long look and noticed splotches of blood leading under her bed. Slowly she lowered herself onto her stomach and crawled along the floor, looking under her bed. There, on the floor beneath her mattress, scrawled in her own blood was one word: Logan.
Slowly she got to her knees, the pain in her chest returning. A lump formed in her throat. Logan? She closed her eyes. Who was Logan?
He must be important to her…right?
Logan? Lo-gan?
Ororo wanted to scream in frustration.
She wandered over to the sink and toilet in the corner of her room, turning of the water and splashing her face. There was no mirror, as the last one had been removed after she had tried to slit one of the guards throats as he delivered dinner, but she knew she looked like hell. She felt like it. She dipped her head under the faucet, wetting her short locks. She had toothpaste, but no brush, again removed when she had sharpened the end and tried to stab another guard. She used her index finger, cleaning her mouth.
*You are awake.*
*Go away.*
*How are you feeling?*
*Go away.*
*How are you feeling?*
*Who is Logan?* She tested the name.
*Hm. There is no Logan. You are Ororo Shaw, wife of Shinobi Shaw.*
*You are lying.*
*Ororo, please, you must stop this. You are only hurting yourself and your husband.*
*Lies. Who is Logan?*
*There is no Logan, Ororo.*
* I want…Logan.*
*There is no Logan.*
*Logan!*
*There is no Logan!*
“LOGAN!”

***

The scream brought him from his sleep, his head snapping up. He cocked his head, but the only sound he heard was his ragged breathing and the faint pounding of his struggling heart. He was starving to death, his body eating itself, slowly…very slowly. For some reason his wounds kept healing. Much to the delight of his tormentors.
“Awake?” A gruff voice asked. “Good.” Gasoline was poured over his head. “Smoke?”
“AAAUGGHHH!!”
***
The door to her room opened with a faint creak.
Ororo backed further into the shadows, watching warily. It wasn’t dinner time. No one usually came at this hour. She pressed herself against the back wall, watching.
A man stepped into the room, moonlight from the small slit of a window she had overhead illuminating his ruggedly handsome face. He had dark hair and deep eyes. He was the man from her dream.
Ororo gasped. She stepped forward involuntarily. “Who are you?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t you recognize me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“It’s me. Logan.” He stepped towards her, his dark eyes glittering in the faint light.
“…Logan?” Ororo rubbed her forehead. “I was told you weren’t real.”
He smiled, his canines gleaming at her. “Oh, I’m very real.” He opened his arms to her.
Without thought Ororo ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace. Faint flickers of memory lighting in her head. Wolverine?….X-Men…?
“Easy, darling. I have you.” His arms closed around her.
Ororo nuzzled her face into his neck, inhaling. Suddenly she stiffened. Something didn’t feel right…
“Logan?”
“That’s right, Ororo.”
She tilted her head, looking at him. He looked exactly like the man in her dreams. As she studied him he lowered his head to hers, kissing her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth greedily. He pressed her closer, grinding against her.
Ororo tried to pull away. “Wait!” she cried.
“You always were a cock tease.” he snapped, tearing at her thin gray top.
“Stop that.” she pushed at him.
He slapped her.
Ororo cradled her cheek. “Get out.”
“You asked for me, bitch.” he laughed. “Now you’ve got me.” He grabbed her shoulders, shoving her onto the bed. He followed her down, covering her body with his.
Ororo clawed at his face, and was rewarded by a punch in the mouth. “You want this, whore.” he laughed, tearing her top open. He squeezed her breasts roughly on his hands.
“Get off,” she hissed.
“I intend to,” he leered.
Ororo lifted her knee, catching him in the groin. He groaned and she shoved him off of her, scrambling from the bed. He staggered to his feet.
“Cunt.” He charged her, slamming her into the wall. He punched her in the gut over and over, knocking the wind from her and making her gag. “You like it rough, bitch?” He kneed her in the crotch. “How’s it feel?”
Ororo sucked in a ragged breath.
He slapped her. “Remember you wanted this, whore. You asked for Logan. I am Logan.”
Ororo stared at him blankly.
He licked the side of her face. “You like Logan, don’t you, you slobbering bitch?” he taunted, groping her. “Do I make you wet?” He tugged at her loose sweats.
Ororo head butted him. “Get out of here.”
He laughed, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m going to fuck you good, Storm.”
Storm? Ororo backed away from him warily.
“You had your chance to do this the easy way.”
Chance! She had a son!!
A fist caught her off guard, dropping her to the cool tiled floor. She glared up at the man towering over her. He unzipped his pants, smiling at her. “You’re going to suck my cock, whore.”
Ororo’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll bite it off,” she swore.
“I’ll make you scream my name, bitch,” he taunted, stroking his erection as he stood over her. “You wanted Logan, cunt. You’ve got him.” His lips parted, revealing fangs.
Ororo lashed out with her foot, slamming into his engorged member, making him scream. She rolled to her feet, grabbing his head in her hands and slamming his face into her knee.
The man on the floor rolled back and forth, cupping his aching balls.
“Get up.” she demanded. “Come on, get up.” She stomped on his side.
Suddenly three guards burst into her room, slamming her into the wall. She struggled against them, noticing the still swinging open door. Fists and wands hit her in the head and chest. Freedom. She screamed, trying to crawl over the men holding her down. Chance!!
She screamed again as hit after hit was inflicted upon her, blood oozing from her nose and mouth, her eyes rolling towards the back of her head. She heard a crunch and knew her arm was broken, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get out. Be free. Several kicks took out her right knee and an elbow caught her temple, making her see stars. Still she struggled, hitting and kicking and biting at the men holding her down. One guard grabbed a handful of her shorn locks and slammed her head back against the wall. Once. Twice. Three times.
They released her and she slid down the wall, too weak from the pounding to stand.
The man known as Logan stood over her. He grinned at her, then with callous disregard he pissed on her. When he was done relieving himself, he leaned down, kissing her bloody lips.
“Just remember how Logan loves you, Ororo.”
***

He was an animal. Trapped. Lost . Confused.
A man was walking towards him and to his astonishment, the man was changing shape right in front of him. Going from rugged and stocky to taller and elegant. The man brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder, his cultured tones mocking.
“How does it feel to be helpless?” he asked. “To know I have so much power over you.” One elegant hand rested on the blowtorch. “To know I can make you scream and cry?”
Predatory eyes gleamed in the stillness.
“It’s so fascinating, watching the two of you struggle for reality.”
Two of them?
“Poor pathetic creatures. You I can torment endlessly, but I fear you won’t last much longer in your current state.” the man moved forward. “Wasting away.” He tsk-tsked. “Such a pity.”
The animal sniffed. There was a scent on the man, a familiar odor that rekindled feelings of…warmth. Mate. They had his mate?
The shape changing man grinned. “You smell her, don’t you?” He stepped closer. “Breath deep, because this will be the last time you scent her. She is mine, you filthy animal. Mine!”
Pain!! He flame ignited and the skin on his chest bubbled and charred, the stench making him gag. Ah, fuck, the pain!!
The shape shifting man rippled and standing before him now was a beautiful woman with snow hair and laughing eyes. Her wide lips parted in a gentle smile.
“Poor baby,” she crooned. Graceful fingers caressed his jaw. In his pain hazed mind he saw her and he wept inside. He knew her, but he didn’t. She was lost to him. “It’ll all be over soon, love. You will be dead and I will be letting Shinobi fuck me. I love his big, thick cock,” she cooed. “You are nothing to me. A distant blip on my life. A mistake, generously removed from existence by my true love.”
This pain was worse, he decided. His heart was breaking. He didn’t know why, he couldn’t remember her, but his heart was breaking, his will to live leaving him. Seeping out of him as quickly as his blood was pooling on the floor.
“Wolverine,” she whispered in his ear. “Bleed for me…” She stabbed him in the throat with a slim blade.
***

Ororo groaned softly. She was shivering, something that seemed all together foreign to her. She was in pain. Her body aching. She rolled off of her bed onto the floor, clutching her stomach. Something was happening inside her body. She was cold, and felt like she would never be warm again. Wave after wave of pain tore through her body. Her abdomen felt like it was on fire. She rocked back and forth, a faint sheen of perspiration covering her in a sticky film. She writhed and moaned, the pain relentless. Goddess, what was happening to her? She rolled to her knees, trying to crawl to the sink. It was then that she felt it, a warm rush of fluid between her thighs as crimson decorated her sweats and floor.
Ororo moaned, rolling into the fetal position. Tears stung her eyes. Oh, the pain…


Xavier Institute
The silence was deafening.
Not a soul moved in the war room, barely a breath stirring the air. They waited, in baited silence for the Professor, and for a miracle.
Gambit glanced at Ali who was seated beside him, her face an impassive mask, but he knew she was afraid. Hell, so was he.
Remy wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, massaging the tension from her, watching her with hooded, unreadable eyes.
Ali cast him a look and the torture in her ocean eyes ate at him. Chance, their beautiful nephew was gone. Taken by a madman. And Ororo and Logan as well.
The door opened and immediately the room breathed a collective breath, the tension thickening until it was palpable.
Xavier shook his head. “I am still unable to locate them.”
Ali’s fingers curled into fists.
Remy closed his eyes.
Jean stood up. “What about Sebastian Shaw’s former Hellfire Quarters?”
“I scanned the region.”
“Yes, but Shinobi employs several powerful telepaths, including Emma Frost.”
Charles gave her an indulgent look. “Child, I am the most powerful telepath on the planet. I think I would be able to manipulate her defenses.”
“Where?” was all Gambit asked.
“The Club's headquarters, known as The Hellfire Club mansion, was once a museum and amphitheatre, and is located at what is now Fifth Avenue on Manhattan's East Side, only a few blocks away from the Avengers Mansion.” Cyclops said.
“Fascinating.” Ali said standing, followed by Gambit. “I’m going.”
Xavier rolled to the table. “It’s highly unlikely Shinobi would be in such an obvious place. And if he had, we still don‘t know whether Ororo and Wolverine are there.”
“I think it’s worth a shot.” Alison added. She looked at Gambit, their fingers interlocked, with her squeezing so tight her knuckles were white. “I remember the way Shaw looked at Storm. I can‘t sit back and do nothing. It‘s been weeks since he took them.” Ali took a deep breath. “For all we know they’re dead, but I can’t not know.”
Cyclops nodded. “It’s worth a shot. I’ll check Club Hellfire first, then the original mansion.”
Gambit turned to Ali. “I don’t want you going.”
“We go together.” she said.
“Non. I go.” Gambit said, a look of dark retribution on his normally smiling face. “If dey be dere I bring dem back.”
“I am so sorry I wasn’t able to find him.” Kurt said quietly.
“Not your fault, fuzzy man,” Jubilee said, her brown eyes teary. “You tried to get to them.”
Once again the room was silent, thinking back to that fateful day when Chance had been taken by Shinobi, who had shifted to appear like Jubilee. Storm and Wolverine had reached the boathouse first, a forceful gale testimony to Strom’s grief, the winds forcing the others to maintain their distance. It was in that brief moment when the winds had died that Shinobi had struck. He had wired the boathouse with explosives. The explosion was felt all the way to the mansion. It had taken hours to sift through the rubble, only to realize Ororo and Logan were not there. They were missing.
It was Kurt that had felt the ripples from another teleportor. He had followed the trail for a distance, then realized it was futile. Whoever had ported Ororo and Logan had set up numerous false trails, and Kurt grew exhausted, his heart laboring with the numerous jumps. He had nearly died in his effort. That had been nearly three weeks ago and still no luck in locating their fellow X-Men.

***
Ororo sipped the glass of water in her hand carefully. She stared at the woman n front of her guardedly.
“There, now. How’s that?” The dark haired woman placed a heating pad behind the small of Ororo’s back.
“Fine.” she said flatly.
“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, Mrs. Shaw.”
Ororo nodded, handing the water back. “I’m not thirsty any more.” she smiled faintly. She studied the woman in front of her. She was mid-thirties, with dark brown hair, a few grays and light brown eyes. She was pleasantly plump, as though she enjoyed a decent meal and she had a friendly smile on her otherwise plain face. She was dressed in a light top and loose pants. She appeared to be a nurse of some sort.
“You should drink t all,” the woman encouraged.
“I am not thirsty.”
“Very well.” The woman placed the glass on the night stand.
Ororo glanced around the plush room, her brow furrowed. Flashes of another room, with a cot and torn bedding slipped in and out of her mind.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” the nurse asked.
Ororo nodded. “My husband.”
The nurse waited. “Your husband?”
“Yes,” Ororo demanded. “Shinobi Shaw.”

***
The pain would never end, of this he was certain. Hours and days ran together, time holding no meaning. Images flitted through his tormented mind, fleeting and unfocused, but he held the impressions for as long as he could. Warm, feminine laughter. Happiness. Love. A baby crying. Family. And he tried, God how he tried, to hold onto those moments, but then another wave of red hot and blinding pain would wash over him, obliterating them.
It was almost always her now, that tortured him. The angry angel with the white hair. She toyed with him and tormented him like no other. Her taunts were cruel and vicious, and the wounds she inflicted were even worse. She flayed him with glee, her laughter cut like her blades over his worn skin.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him, holding a raw and bloody steak in one hand, walking in front of him, clad in barely-there leather and fishnet stockings. She waved it around with relish as his stomach ached with emptiness, the growling and rumble loud in the small room.
With deliberate movements she teased him with the potential meal, sighing with satisfaction. “Mmmm. So good.” She leaned close to him, letting him smell the meat and blood on her hands.
He growled, but it came out low and weak, his body severely dehydrated and deteriorated from him ceaseless torture and lack of food.
Long fingers held his face as she leaned close to him. “Beg me to end your suffering,” she whispered.
“…Fuck…you…”
“No. Not ever again,” she chimed merrily. With almost cheerful enthusiasm she picked up a thin, curved blade and began to work him. She sliced his throat, the blood gurgling in his mouth. She touched the tip of the blade to his newly regenerated eye and flicked, slicing it open and removing the eyelid. “Beg,” she commanded.
“Go…ta..hell.” he panted, crimson dribbling along his chin and over his bare and wounded chest.
She grinned. “Ah, no, this is heaven.” another long slit and he grit his teeth.
*Shinobi.*
*I’m busy.*
*This is important.*
*It had better be.* Another slice of skin and a splash of scarlet.
*Your wife is asking for you.*
Wolverine’s head lolled. The woman in front of him grinned. “I must go, pet.” she said, kissing his cheek. “More pressing matters require my attention, but when I return, I will make you beg.” she promised.
Wolverine watched her go. He hated that white haired bitch with every ounce of his being. He blocked out the pain of his body by fantasizing all the ways he was going to kill her.
***

Ororo smoothed the soft, plush green and gold blankets over her bare legs, a carefully controlled vacant look on her face as she watched the bedroom door. In a few moments Shinobi Shaw would step through that threshold and it would take every ounce of her self control not to lunge at the fucker and rip his throat out with her bare hands.
She took a shaky breath, keeping her mind and face carefully blank. The telepaths would sense something wrong if she let her anger get the better of her. She needed to play this just right, if she had any chance of finding her husband and her son. A brief stab of pain momentarily stole her breath. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, Logan…
Last night when she had been crawling on the floor, pain making her nearly delusional, she had known that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He was real, and he was hers, and they had a son together. A beautiful baby boy with dark hair and deep eyes and stubborn little chin. Chance…
She heard the door creak open. “Ororo.”
With deliberate slowness she allowed her lids to lift, revealing deep blue eyes. She gazed at the man in front of her, impressed with her own ability to look at him impassively. She tilted her head, a rueful smile on her full lips. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” she asked quietly.
The man approached the bed, his dark hair pulled into a neat queue, tied at his nape. He wore a light gray, perfectly tailored suit and a gold watch. The band glinted as he strode towards her. “You don’t recognize me?” he asked, a touch of false concern on his cultured voice.
She shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid not,” she replied. “I was waiting for my husband. Shinobi Shaw. Do you know him?” Please, oh, please let her be believable.
“I am him.”
Ororo gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “I-I am sorry,” she said, eyes slightly wide. She studied him, her gaze taking in every inch of him. Shinobi. He looked exactly how she remembered him. Tall, good looking, sensual and charismatic…how she loathed the sight of him. With a slight tremble, that she didn’t have to fake, Ororo reached for his face. He leaned towards her, his brown eyes closing when her slender fingers stroked his chin. “Shinobi?”
He groaned a bit, making her feel ill. “It is good to hear you say my name,” he said, capturing her hand and kissing her fingertips.
It took every bit of will power she had not to jerk away and ram a few thousand volts of nature’s fury up his smarmy ass, but she refrained, her absolute focus on finding her family.
“How is it that I don’t know you?” she asked. She touched her bruised lips. “And why am I so battered?” she tried not to sound accusatory, but a hint of it tinted her voice.
Instead of being suspicious, Shaw immediately tried to soothe her. “You were attacked, my love.”
She frowned. “Attacked?”
“Yes. A man attacked you, he hurt you. He caused you to miscarry our child.”
At this, genuine tears filled Ororo’s eyes. Oh, Logan…our baby. I didn’t even get a chance to tell you… “Yes,” she whispered. “I remember the blood.”
Shinobi cradled her jaw. “Sshhh. It’s all right, love. You’re safe here.”
Yeah, right. “I want to remember you…” she murmured, feigning confusion. “My head hurts.”
“Shall I send for something? A sedative perhaps?”
“No!” she nearly shouted.
Shinobi frowned.
“I-I’m sorry,” Ororo covered. “It’s just I feel so out of it, as it is, and I don’t like it. I want to remember you.” She touched his face again, trying not to flinch. “To remember us.”
He smiled, sickeningly sweet. “You will, love. In time I am certain you will remember.”
Ororo looked around her room. “Like this place, for instance,” she continued. “I don’t recognize it at all. Where do we live?”
Shinobi gave her a probing glance, but Ororo kept her face carefully blank. “In my ancestral estate,” he supplied.
“Oh.” She ruffled her short locks. Short? “Um, what happened to my hair?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
She lifted one bare shoulder. “I mean, I get the impression it was longer once.”
“Ah. Yes, it was.” he stated, offering nothing.
Ororo closed her eyes, trying to remember. She remembered a tall man, with a disturbing gift for disorientation, and a teleporter that grabbed her. She remembered a needle being shoved in her arm, and the blurry image of Logan as he was also ported with her, drugged heavily. She remembered feeling helpless as the darts had embedded in their skin after their home had exploded. Oh, their home…gone… But nothing after that.
“Are you all right?” Shinobi’s voice caused her to open her eyes.
“Yes.” she lied smoothly. “Who attacked me?”
Shinobi sat on the edge of the bed, lifting her hand in his. “I’d rather not discuss the vile creature. He has been dealt with accordingly.”
Ororo’s heart stopped. “He’s dead?” she whispered, her throat closing.
“He very well wishes he was,” Shinobi said with angry satisfaction, his sensual mouth turning white at the corners.
“Is he…in jail?” she asked.
Shinobi’s brows lowered. “Why so interested?”
Ororo lifted her chin. “This monster killed our child, you said. I want to know that he is being dealt with.”
Shinobi smiled, but the speculative gleam did not leave his eye. “Rest assured that he is.” He opened the drawer to the nightstand behind the bed, pulling out a gold circlet. “It is time you put this back on,” he said softly.
Shinobi lifted her left hand and for the first time, Ororo noticed that the her wedding ring was missing.
Logan. Ororo squelched the riotous emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She could not risk the telepaths picking up on her longing. “You must be a loving husband,” she said, with false sweetness. “To be so generous.” She watched as the gold and diamond band circled her third finger.
“This is only a fraction of the riches I will bestow on you, Ororo.” He leaned forward, his lips touching hers.
Don’t vomit, don’t vomit, don’t vomit…
She pulled away when she felt the flick of his tongue on her lips.
“Ororo?”
“I’m sorry, I just…well, I don’t remember you,” she said, hoping he bought it. “Maybe you could tell me of our life together? How long have we been married?”
“Not long.” He answered vaguely.
“Oh. Well, could I get a tour of our home?” she asked. “Perhaps something will come back to me.”
He looked ready to refuse, so she pulled his head to hers and kissed him. “Please,” she said softly.
“I could use a little more persuasion,” he said idly.
She smiled and kissed him again. She felt his hand tug the blanket away from her and his hand cup her bare breast.
It is just my body…It is just my body…
“You have lovely breasts,” he groaned.
Ororo was silent, trying to maintain her careful control.
Shinobi bent his head and licked her nipple. “I am going to take you now,” he said, pulling off his jacket.
“But..wait…” Ororo protested.
“Why?” he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.
“I am still recovering from…everything.”
“When you are recovered then,” he said.
Ororo struggled to keep her smile. “O-of course.”
“You should sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. And Ororo?”
“Yes?”
“You are quite a good liar, but your eyes are a dead giveaway. I will break you in. In the meantime, I shall take great pleasure in mutilating your worthless pet.” Before she realized his intent he pulled a syringe from his pocket and jabbed her upper arm.
Ororo didn’t reply, couldn’t reply, instead she simply closed her eyes before he saw the tears shimmering there. Logan…Chance…Hold on, I’ll find you…

***

“YEEAARGGG!!”
“Music to my ears.”
Wolverine blinked, his vision blurred by pain. He growled at the white haired woman walking towards him and his current tormentor.
“Oooohhh, I’m shaking,” she mocked.
“…Bitch…” he spat.
“The name’s Storm.” she leveled a gun at him. “Remember it!” Bang!
Wolverine jerked as the bullet hit him. He bared his teeth. “I will,” he vowed.

***

“Marvel Girl to Cyclops. I got nothing.”
“Copy, Marvel Girl. Same here.” There was a distinct note of frustration in the X-Men’s Red Leader’s voice. This was the third Shaw residence that they had staked out in the past two weeks, to no avail. Currently he and Jean were in front of Shinobi Shaw’s Manhattan Estate.
“Gambit?”
“Not’in at da club neither.” The Cajun sounded down right pissed off, which he was. Some fuck had his Stormy, his padnat and it was all he could do not to lose it. If it weren’t for Ali and the babies he didn’t know what he’d do. The thought of losing any of them made him hurt. He could only imagine the pain and anguish Stormy and Wolverine felt, knowing their baby was in the hands of a madman, hell bent on revenge.
“Let’s head back to the mansion, maybe the Professor has picked something up on cerebro.” Jean suggested. She too felt the pain of her teammates loss. At one time she believed herself in love with Wolverine, however, seeing him with Storm had shown her what kind of love she really wanted, and could have with Scott. Although beginning as enemies, she and Storm had forged a bond that was solid and true. Jean considered the white haired beauty one of her dearest friends, and knew Ororo had come to accept her the same way.
“You and Cyclops can ‘ead back, chere, but Gambit gonna stick it out a bit longer.”
“I’ll stay as well,” Kurt’s accented voice came over the comm.
“Very well.” Cyclops confirmed. “We’ll be back in two hours to pick you both up.”
“D’accord.”
“Ja.” Nightcrawler agreed. “We must not gve up hope,” the blue furred mutant said. “Storm and Wolverine are the strongest people we know. They can overcome anything.”

***

There was so much blood, and a baby was screaming.
She struggled to sit up, but found she was strapped to a stretcher, her arms and legs bound tightly so she couldn’t move.
Bright lights whizzed past overhead and she heard voices, droning on in rapid medical terms.
Logan? Where was Logan? And Chance? Was that him crying? Did he need her? Goddess, please, let her get to her baby.
Where was she?
A needle stabbed her arm, a fiery liquid entering her bloodstream. “No!” she screamed.
“All will be well, Storm. You are where you belong.” A dark voice whispered from the fog clouding her brain.
“…Loooogaaannn…” Her tongue was thick, his name sticking to her.
“There is no such person.”
“Lies…”
There was a faint buzzing sound and she felt her long tresses pulled tight as clippers sheared her silken locks.
*Logan!*
*There is no Logan.*
*Please…*
*Shhh. Shinobi will take care of you.*
*He can rot in the deepest pits of hell!!*
A scalpel in the light, it’s sharp blade making her blood run cold. The blade pressed to her temple, following the faint scar left by the implantation of her former neural inhibitors.
“Stop.” she mumbled, drugged.
“This will only hurt for a minute, darling.”
*Don’t call me that!!!*
*Touchy, aren’t we?*
*I’m going to kill you all. Every last one of you.*
*Hahaha…save your idle threats, Mrs. Shaw.*
*My name is Ororo N’Dare Munroe Howlett. My husband is the Wolverine and he is going to gut every last fucking one of you!!!*
Agony as pressure increased in her temples, blood pouring from her nose.
Soft thuds sounded the approach of the man she hated most in her life.
“Hello again, Mystery.” Shinobi Shaw stood beside her strapped in form. “I have waited a long time to see you broken.”
“Where…is my…son?” she rasped.
“You have no son.” he smiled. “At least not any more.”
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Ororo bolted upright in her bed, a scream lodged in her throat, her chest heaving and tear streaks on her face. She took great gulping breaths, trying to regain her composure. She was thankful that she was relatively clear headed, whatever sedative Shinobi had given her, not lasting. Although no where near the extent of Wolverine’s, Ororo herself possessed a healing factor that kept her from catching colds, and scarring and from being effected by drugs for any great length.
She glanced out the small window across the room and a frown marred her grief stricken face. Through the slit she saw that the sky was crystal clear, the stars twinkling in the night sky.
Cautiously she rose from the bed and walked towards the window, her frown deepening as she realized that she could no longer feel the elements around her. She could feel the pull of the planet, as she always had, and she could see the patterns in the wind, but she felt nothing. Fear clawed at her. That bastard had taken everything!! Her son, her husband and now her powers.
With a soft cry Ororo fell to her knees, the weight of everything suddenly too much to bear. Logan!!! Chance!!!
*Mrs. Shaw?*
Ororo laughed bitterly, sobbing harder.
*Mrs. Shaw?*
*Where is my husband?* Ororo demanded.
A flash of a dark basement grazed her mind before the telepath could completely block it. *Shinobi is occupied.*
*I meant my REAL husband. *
*Are you ill?* The telepath changed the subject.
*Is that you, Emma Frost?* Ororo stood, wiping her face and making her way towards the adjoining room door, careful to keep her intentions hidden. She had a feeling there was someone on the other side.
*There is no one by that name here.*
*Don’t give me that.
*There is no Emma Frost.*
*Uhn-huh. Just like there‘s no Logan.* Ororo moved closer to the door. *Tell me. Have you ever heard the adage about a mother and her cub?*
*Excuse me?*
*Knock-knock!* Ororo yanked open the adjoining door, rushing into the room, startling the guard and the blonde telepath sitting in the center of the room.
The guard tried to grab her, but Ororo spun, lifting her elbow and catching the large man in the jaw, followed by a jab to his nose and a palm thrust. With the quickness of a street thief she snatched his gun from its holster as his lifeless form fell to the floor and rammed it into the soft spot under Emma’s chin. “Don‘t even blink,” she snarled.

Emma opened her mouth, her pale blue eyes wide with surprise and more than a touch of fear. The woman glaring down at her looked like a demon possessed, or an avenging angel. “Sto--”
“You blinked.” Ororo slammed the butt of her newly acquired pistol into the back of the faux blonde’s head, causing the shorter woman to slump in her seat, and her eyes to flutter closed. Wasting no time, knowing what was at stake, Ororo rushed to the small dresser beside the door, yanking open the drawers. She gave a disgusted grunt at the skimpy, barely there white lace and leather get up in the drawers.
Ororo snatched a pair of white leather pants, slit and tied at the sides and a white lace top, that offered minimal coverage, but she supposed it was better than running around naked. She hurriedly donned the White Queen’s garments, hopping on her bare feet and lacing the pants. “Blessed Goddess, woman, learn to eat,” she said to the unconscious Emma as she passed.
With quick, efficient moves Ororo turned the body guard, knowing he was dead, but unable to feel a shred of remorse at the killing, and searched his pockets. She found a clip and a small knife, which she took, slipping the blade between the small of her back and the tight, but stretchy leather pants. She reloaded the gun and made her way to the door. She had no idea as to how many guards were in the hallway, but she could hear footfalls near the door.
“Yo, Frank. Your shift is up.” A deep voice came from the opposite side of the ornate door.
Ororo tilted her head, staring at the gold swirls and dragons etched into the wood. Shaw really did live in excess, she mused. Pushing such meaningless thoughts aside she focused on the door, backing up a step as the handle turned. She’d have to take this guy down fast and hard. If she could prevent firing her weapon she would, not wanting to alert anyone of her impending escape.
“Frank, dude, what the fuck--Ugh!”
Ororo kicked the door shut in the new guard’s face, then jerked it open again, lunging into the hall, and plowing the guy into the wall, her knee raised, slamming into his groin. Ororo thwacked her bare heel into his face as he doubled over. “My son,” she hissed, wrenching his short brown hair. “Where is he?”
“L-lady…I don’t kn..know what the fuck--”
Ororo held his head and kneed his face. She was rewarded by the crunch of cartilage and scarlet spatter on her pants. “My son. Where?” she repeated, her voice like ice.
“I donnnknowww!!” the guy yowled.
“Too bad.” With a quickness that would have rivaled the Wolverine Ororo grabbed the guards ears and bashed his head into the wall. She couldn’t risk leaving him conscious. Witnesses were a liability and reduced her odds of finding her son and her husband. She repeated the motion for good measure, then bent and searched him for potential weapons. She removed his gun from its holster. She yanked his shoes from his body, unthreading the laces and tying his hands behind his back. It was a flimsy hold, but it would slow him down if he woke.
Ororo looked both ways, her mind frantic. Where would Shinobi have Chance? She bit her lip to prevent a mournful moan from escaping. She had to find him, and fast!
Logan. If anyone could find Chance he could. She only hoped she could find him.

***

Dripping.
Hnh.
He could hear dripping, echoing in his mind like a gong with each drop of blood into the pool at his feet. He was bleeding to death, his body not healing from his latest bought of torture.
Hnh.
‘Bout fuckin’ time…
Death. He closed his flat eyes. Death was a blessing at this point. He almost smiled. So close now…The pain was fading…

***

Shit. Ororo pressed against the wall, having run through three corridors, her bare feet flying across the carpet, only to realize she had gone in a circle. Calm down, Storm. Think. Focus. What do we know… Shinobi is a sick SOB. Check. This mansion is huge with a hundred plus rooms. Check. You are a very pissed off Mama. Check. Wolverine is alive. (Please.) Check. Shinobi was in a basement…Check. Move!!
Setting her jaw, Ororo sprinted down the corridor, this time taking a left instead of a right. She nearly cried when she spotted a flight of stairs. Down. Down. Down. Ororo raced as fast as she could, her chest tightening with every step. Someone would find the guards soon and Shaw would know she was loose.
Ororo jerked at the flash of pain in her temples. She slammed into the wall, holding her head. Keep moving. Down. Find Logan!

***

“Anything, Professor?”
Professor Charles Xavier shook his bald head at Jean, removing the silver helmet that was his connection to cerebro. “No. I am still unable to locate them. I thought I felt Storm for a moment, but the connection was too faint and too abruptly severed for me to be certain.”
There was a weighty silence following that statement.
“Professor, it has been so long now, perhaps we should stop and consider the possibility that they are dead.” Cyclops said, voicing a hard truth none of them wanted to face.
“Fuck you,” Ali blurted. “We are not giving up on them!”
“Easy, ma petite bella,” Gambit soothed, one partially gloved hand rubbing her back through her green tee.
Ali shook her dark head, tears flashing in her eyes as she addressed Scott. “If it was your precious Jean, you’d be knocking down buildings to find her, so don’t you dare tell us to give up! Not on Storm. And not on Wolverine. And never on Chance!” With that she turned her face into Gambit’s shoulder, trying not to cry.
“You do not have to,” Xavier said, closing his eyes. When he opened them the first smile any of them had seen in weeks graced his face. “We have a new arrival. To the foyer my X-Men.”
The lobby was empty when the four X-Men and Xavier exited the elevator.
Ali gave a grumble. “What are we doing? We should be planning our next--oh, my God!!” Ali clutched Gambit’s arm, her knees suddenly weak.
Jubilee came running through the front doors, her pretty face blotched red from crying. She was hugging a squealing Chance in her arms. Following her inside was a tall woman with black hair and a half smile on her bruised face.
“Tessa,” Xavier greeted. “you made it.”
“Barely.“ The woman nodded in acknowledgement.
“Gambit don’ understand? Where’s Stormy?” He moved to look over the woman Xavier greeted as Tessa’s shoulders for a glimpse of white hair or a puff of hazy smoke, telltale signs of his two best friends. “Or da Wolverine?”
“They are not with me,” came the cool, clipped reply. “I was only able to get the child.”
“Who the heck are you?” Ali demanded, rubbing Chance’s head as she and Jubilee cried over the cherubic child.
“Her name is Tessa Niles, Alison, and she works for me.” Charles supplied.
“Gambit seen you before, non?” Remy studied her face. “At da Club Hellfire.”
“Yes. I was employed by Sebastian Shaw to monitor his wayward son, Shinobi Shaw. I believe you know him.” Came Tessa’s smooth reply.
Ali released Chance and fisted her hands. “You work for the Shaw’s?”
“No, I work for Charles. I was spying on the Shaw’s.”
Several startled eyes swung to Xavier.
“You sick, miserable, cripple!” Ali ground out. “You had a spy already in place and you sent Storm in anyways!! She never needed to get close to Shinobi!”
“Alison, hold your tongue and remember who you are speaking to.” Xavier commanded.
Gambit’s eyes flashed red. “I suggest you do da same, homme.”
“Everyone, just calm down,” Scott said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
“I’m gonna take Chance away from all this drama,” Jubilee said quietly. “We’ll be in my room, and none ya’ll come near us if your spouting trash. He’s been through enough.” She turned to Tessa. “Lady, thank you for my brother back.” To Xavier. “Find my Mom and Pappy, Professor X, whatever it takes, because that’s what they’d do for you. All of you.” Jubilee climbed the stairs, her head bent as she crooned to Chance.
Jean inclined her head towards Tessa, “You’re a telepath,” she stated.
“Low level. Nowhere near Xavier or your skills, but yes, I am a telepath. That is how I was able to fool Shinobi into thinking he had killed me along with his father.” Tessa was wobbly on her feet.
“Maybe we should sit,” Cyclops said, grabbing her by her forearms. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Tessa nodded. “Just a bit weary.”
“The library? For privacy.” Jean suggested.
Once in the library and everyone was seated comfortably, Ali said, “Start talking, lady.”
“I am sure you are all aware of how Shinobi was resurrected from the grave,” Tessa said, gratefully taking the glass of brandy Xavier had poured for her.
“Yeah.” Cyclops looked between Ali and Jean. “We know.”
“Sebastian, against my sound advice, allowed Shinobi to be removed from Emma Frost’s psyche and placed into a shifter. After a few weeks of recovery Shinobi was well enough to start using his new powers. He approached Sebastian as me and slit his father’s throat, he then approached me as Sebastian. He…used me, then beat me. I wasn’t able to prevent the attack, but luckily I was able to fake my death. When Emma scanned my mind to make certain I was dead, I was able to feign it. They stayed in Sebastian’s house that night. I could hear them, in his father’s room. But I also heard another sound. A baby crying. I had no idea that it was an X-Man’s child. All I knew was that neither Shaw had infant’s and that I had to get that child away from there.” She sipped the amber liquid. “Once I was certain I was relatively safe I contacted Charles. He helped shield me from Emma and Shaw’s other telepaths. Until I could get here.”
Jean raised one copper brow. “So, you knew Chance was alive?” she asked the Professor.
“Tessa was taking a great risk in rescuing Chance. I did not want to get your hopes up if she was to fail.”
“What about Storm and Wolverine?” Cyclops asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his tan khakis.
Tessa shook her head sadly. “Shinobi has an unhealthy obsession with your Storm friend and a reservoir of anger for Wolverine. I don’t know where they are, but it’s a safe assumption they aren’t enjoying themselves…”

***


Whump. “Hurgh!” Another guard down.
Ororo followed the hall she had spotted the guard in, moving as quickly as she could, while still being cautious. This was the bottom floor, no more stairs that she could find and she wanted to scream. She knew she had caught a glimpse of a basement before Emma had completely shielded that thought.
She turned, doing a slow full circle. Damn! Her throat tightened and she fought against the tears building. Crying would solve nothing. It wouldn’t help her find Logan any faster and it was a waste of time.
A low hiss caught her attention and she watched as the far wall shimmered and Shinobi seemingly walked through it. Given his original mutant powers that would have been possible, however she knew he did not have that skill now. She pressed herself into the shadows of one doorway, hoping against hope he would not look her way and see her or the fallen guard.
She breathed a relieved sigh when he made his way up the stairs at the opposite end of the hall. As soon as she was fairly certain he was gone she ran towards the spot he emerged from, running full tilt, crossing her fingers that she wasn’t about to put a dent in the wall.
“Ah!” she tumbled through the holographic wall, landing with a thud, the palms of her hands slapping cold cement. She lifted her head slowly, taking in the dim room. It appeared to be more cellar than basement, the walls made of crumbling earth and stone. It was probably the original cellar of the mansion, not disturbed for years, until recently. It was nearly empty, save for what looked like mechanic tools and a small television.
“Uhnn…”
Ororo jerked at the low groan, rolling and leveling one of her two guns in the direction the sound came from. What she saw made her drop the weapon and gasp.
Ororo lay frozen for a moment, unable to breathe or even think. Was this tortured, mutilated creature her husband? He was so bloody she could barely recognize him, half of his face burned away, only a charred mass remaining. She closed her eyes briefly trying to shut of the pain that seeing him flayed and beaten and burned caused her. Tears welled up in her eyes at the pain she knew he must have endured. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look.
Her beloved husband. She covered her mouth with trembling hands. Her fierce warrior, her beloved Logan, her Wolverine was helplessly strapped to an upright table, his hands shackled overhead, his body was covered in thousands of cuts, some shallow and some very deep. He was slumped as though defeated. What he must have suffered! Rage consumed her, followed by fear. Why wasn’t he healing? Had Shinobi taken his powers as well?
“Goddess…Logan.” Ororo scrambled to her feet. Grief was threatening to overwhelm her, but she stomped it into submission. Help him now, grieve later. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his matted and bloody raven-black hair gently.
She looked around the small room and spotted a small line of wire. It only took her a moment to fashion a makeshift lock pick and get to work on the manacles shackling his arms.
A low growl was her only warning. Black eyes snapped open and Ororo was staring into fathomless pools of venomous hatred. The second the shackle opened a hand fastened around her neck, cutting off her airway. Everything swirled black, then white. Her eyes locked with his and something sparked in his depths. She smiled tremulously at him, despite his death grip on her throat. His fingers tightened and she winced.
“Stop,” she croaked. “It’s me…”
He bared his fangs.
“..smell…me…”
He pulled her face closer to his, his nostrils flaring. Suddenly his eyes widened and he curled his fingers into her hair. “..’Ro…”
“Hey, love.” Her lower lip trembled.
“Ya’ve…got ta..run…”
“Not without you,” she said, pressing her forehead to his.
“Darlin’…I knew…I knew it wasn’t…you…”
Ororo bit her lip, her fears confirmed. Shinobi had tortured Wolverine guised as her.
“…tried ta…make me… hate ya. Couldn’t. Love ya…too much…” He was panting from exertion. “Always love…ya…my only…”
“Sshhh. It’s all right now. I’m here.”
“Hnh.” He closed his eyes. “Not..healin’…”
Ororo nodded, her eyes overflowing. “I know.”
“…not much…longer now…”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, clutching his face in her palms. “Logan.” He made no response. “Logan?” She jostled his head. “Logan!” No!! No!! NOOOOO!
Frantically she undid the second shackle, his three hundred pound body slumping onto her. She grunted, lowering him to the floor. “Please, Logan” She pinched his nose, breathing into his mouth. “Please.” Nothing. With a strangled sob she pressed her face to his bare chest. “Please don’t leave me…”
Once again a sharp pain stabbed her in the temples and she jerked upright, holding her head. Unexpectedly an image of clippers shearing her hair at the temple invaded her mind.
Shinobi had implanted something in her head, blocking her powers. Perhaps he had done the same to Logan. Frantically, Ororo brushed his hair to the side, letting out a small sound when she noticed the shaved patch just above his ear.
“Hold on, baby,” she said, getting to her feet. She hated what she was about to do, or attempt to do, but she had no choice. She pulled the small knife she had confiscated from the dead guard from the back of her pants. She held the blade over Logan’s freshly shaved spot, but hesitated. What if she royally messed this up? What if she damaged him? Unwilling to use him as a guinea pig, she rose to her feet and raced to the table in the corner. She knew she had seen a mirror when she entered. Shaw always had to have a mirror nearby, plus she was certain he delighted in showing Logan his ravaged face.
With grim determination Ororo leaned the mirror against the table and wall, and brushed her soft curls aside, holding the razor sharp blade against the faint scar she bore at her temple. “Here goes…” she took two deep breaths and slit along the ridge, gritting her teeth. Thin rivers of ruby flowed, but she continued, pressing the tip under the flesh, prodding for a piece of metal or plastic. Anything that she could remove.
*Stop!*
One of the telepaths shouted into her head. Ororo grimaced. They knew now. Time was up.
*Stop now, Storm!*
*Fuck you!* She jerked the blade, flaying the skin and reveling a delicate looking microchip. She cringed at the pain, but smiled when she dug the small inhibitor out. It was a miniature model of the one’s Xavier had designed for her. Immediately she felt the hairs on her neck rise and the earth sang to her, and she could feel the approaching storm in her blood. She was once again Storm, mistress of the elements, daughter of nature.
She glanced at Wolverine, who lay motionless. “Hang on, honey, please.” She crouched beside him, gouging where she believed the chip to be, crying as she prodded, hating the fact that she was cutting him. She knew he could not feel it, but it sickened her to do it.
She pried the small chip free with her thumb and forefinger. Nothing happened. “Logan, please,” she said, pressing her lips to his cracked and scabbed ones. “Come back to me…”
~Logan-san~
~Huh?~
~Hello again, beloved.~
~M’iko.~
Soft laughter. ~Ah, you remember me at last.~
~I do. I’m dying, huh?”
~Yes.~
~Ororo.~ Logan felt warmth invade his body. Ororo. Storm. His One.
~Yes. Your One. Your soul mate.~
~Is she here?~
~No, she is not amongst us. She is fighting for you and your son.~
~Chance.~ Fierce waves of protectiveness.
~Yes. Go now, Logan-san. She needs you.~
~Why are you doing this? I killed your father? I am the reason you died…~
~No. You gave me moments of beauty in a desolate world. You loved me, and I you. But you are meant for her, and I was destined for this. To guide you. To help you.~
~I did love you.~
~I know, but not like her. There are legends among my people of two souls destined for each other, never whole until they meet. Sometimes it takes many lifetimes of loneliness to find the Other, but you have found yours, Logan-San...Go, now.~
“come back to me…”
He could feel himself being pushed back towards the pain.
~Thank you.~
“…Please…”
“uuhggh.”
Ororo lifted her tear dampened face from Logan’s chest, watching as his wounds slowly began to heal. Much more slowly than usual, but healing…
“Logan!” Ororo cradled his head in her lap, laughing and sobbing at once.
“…rrrruuunnnn…”
“Logan?”
“How touching.” Shinobi Shaw walked through the holographic wall, his face a dark scowl, a gun in his hand. “You can die together.”

“Got them!” Jean cried out triumphantly, opening her vivid forest green eyes. She was seated on one of the two tan, cozy loveseats beside the dwindling fire in the library.
Cyclops sat up straighter beside her. “You got them?”
“Yes!” Jean grabbed his arm excitedly, clenching the gray wool of his sweater between her fingers. “I can feel them both.”
“Where?” Ali asked, tossing off Gambit’s trench, and shaking Remy awake.
Jean shook her head. “I don’t know. I can only sense them, but they are both alive!”
“We need t’ tell da Professor, non?” Gambit gave Ali’s thigh a reassuring squeeze.
Jean tapped her right index finger to her temple. “Done.”
Scott stood, pulling the red haired telepath to her feet. He kissed her softly on the cheek and whispered, “Good job,” in her ear.
A smile of pure joy settled on Jean’s pretty face. For hours she had left herself completely open, trying to find traces of Ororo or Logan. Though it was a relatively safe exercise given the mansion’s telepathic security, it was an exhausting one. “Thanks,” she grinned up at Scott. “Let’s go see if the Professor can locate them.”

***

Involuntarily Ororo’s fingers tightened on Logan, the sight of Shinobi in his trademark white suit, making her blood run cold. This was the man that had hurt her and her family so much, the man that tried on more than one occasion to kill her, or worse, to take her husband, and had kidnapped her son. This thing in front of her had caused her much pain and for the first time in her life, Ororo Munroe knew what it was to hate.
She watched Shinobi through narrowed eyes as he approached, a sick smile on his handsome face, his gun leveled at her chest.
“…rrroo…” Wolverine groaned.
“Ssh, love.” Ororo soothed, cradling his head in her lap. “Rest,” she whispered.
Shinobi’s lip curled. “Pathetic,” he sneered.
Ororo felt her anger mounting. She gave the gun in Shinobi’s hand an assessing glance, asking mildly, “Tell, me, Shinobi, do you think you can fire that weapon before I ram a few hundred thousand volts through your body, or no?”
Shinobi laughed. “Nice bluff, Storm, but you see, your powers are ineffectual.”
With great satisfaction Ororo held her hand out, slowly opening her blood stained fingers, revealing the two small chips she had removed from her and Logan. With a distinct sizzle, lightening flared in her palm, frying the small microchips. “You were saying?” Before Shinobi could fire, a blast of artic wind tore the gun from his hand and pushed him back through the holographic wall forcefully.
With great care, Ororo lowered Wolverine’s head to the floor, her fingertips lingering over his forehead. “Rest, Logan. Heal.” She kissed his cracked lips tenderly.
“Nnnoo…’Ro..” Logan tried to sit up.
She felt a faint stirring in her mind, but quickly slammed up her psychic shields, not wanting Shaw’s telepath’s in her head again.
“Ssh.” She pressed Logan’s shoulders gently. “Be still, my fierce warrior. I love you.” Gripped by a vengeful anger and grim determination, Ororo reached for the knife she had carelessly discarded on the ground and rose resolutely to her feet. “SHAW!!!”


***

“Japan.” A glowing blue three dimensional grid map flickered above the table in the war room. “Just outside of Sendai.”
The woman now known as Tessa nodded. “Shinobi’s mother.”
Cyclops swiveled his chair towards her. “Huh?”
The dark haired beauty gestured to the map. “Shinobi’s mother is from Sendai. He has an ancestral mansion there.”
“Ororo is blocking me and I dare not force my way into her mind,” Charles continued. “But from what I could glimpse they are, as Jean said, alive and together.”
Ali and Gambit reached for each other under the table, their fingers intertwining. “When do we leave?” Ali asked.
“Immediately. Kurt and Kitty are prepping the jet, Warren and Beast are gathering medical equipment.” The Professor stated.
“Shaw’s homes are exceedingly well guarded,” Tessa added. “It won’t be easy.”
“Not’in’ ’round here ever is” Gambit replied, getting to his feet.

***

A bolt of lightening sizzled through the holographic wall, shorting out whatever image inducer Shinobi had set up to project the false image.
“Shaw!!” Ororo yelled, realizing the hall was empty, and Shinobi was nowhere to be seen. “Coward!”
Taking cautious steps backwards, Ororo bent over Logan, checking his condition. Even with his wounds healing, he was, on the whole, very weakened by his weeks of starvation and torment. His chest was a series of raw, gaping wounds, several showing early signs of infection. No telling how long Shinobi had tortured him, or how long he’d been without his healing factor. She tenderly brushed his hair from his face. “Hey.”
“Gotta…get out…” he panted. “Chance…”
“Easy, love.” She smiled reassuringly. “We’ll find him.”
“…thought I was…done…need you…”
Storm smiled, tears brimming. “We’re together now.”
He blinked his hazy eyes. “Yesss…”
Storm felt her chest tighten. Logan was in her arms now! Where was her son? Bright Lady, please let her son be all right! …Chance…
*Safe*
Storm gasped. Was that Xavier? She didn’t know, her mind still rocked by the repeated psychic attacks. She tried to simultaneously block and read the impression sent to her.
*Home*
Ororo gripped Logan’s hand. “Do you hear that?” she asked quietly.
“…Chuck…”
A sob escaped her throat. Only Charles was able to penetrate Logan’s defenses. If he could hear him, then it was Xavier…and Chance… “Oh, Goddess, thank you…”
Logan reached out a trembling hand, his blunt fingertips caressing her soft cheek, capturing the tears as they flowed. His gray eyed gaze was full of love and tenderness. “Safe,” he growled.
Ororo nodded. “Home,” she whispered.
“’Ro, darlin’…”
“Hush.” Ororo commanded, her eyes swirling from blue to solid white, their faint glow eerie in the shadows. “Hold onto me.”
Logan grimaced, gripping the arm Ororo extended to him. Every hair on his body rose as the air around them crackled. He could hear the winds howling outside and the rumbling growls of thunder, growing louder and louder. The winds within the cellar rose, whipping about them.
“’Ro?”
Storm made no reply, her total focus on calling forth the fury of nature itself, her angry thoughts centered on the one man that had caused her so much heartache. Her expression was impassive, her white eyes glowing cold fire and unblinking.
This monster had touched her husband, hurt him, wounded him, used her image to inflict as much pain as possible. This bastard had tried to kidnap her child, had tried to make her forget that he and Logan had even existed. Shinobi Shaw did not deserve the life granted him. All he did was cause pain and suffering.
“…Darlin’…”
Ororo waved one hand. The foundation of the house shook.
“No more,” Storm seethed. Wolverine shifted so that he was closer to his wife. Snips of lightening flashed from her eyes. Flames leapt along the walls as bolt after bolt of white-hot heat crashed around them. The tables and instruments around them rattled, jostled by the forces battering the house that had, up until tonight, been their prison.
Wolverine watched as objects lifted from the table and debris flew around them in a cyclonic pattern. Ororo never even flinched, her expression unchanged, even when several sharp blades flew scant inches past her face. She concentrated solely on the task at hand. Make Shinobi Shaw suffer.
Wolverine heard snapping and realized that the walls surrounding them were bending, being torn asunder by the force of Storm’s fury. The winds rose to a thunderous pitch in the small cellar, the roar was damn near deafening. Debris and instruments of torture whirled above their heads in a funnel. The winds rose, spinning faster and faster, and Logan realized that the mansion was being lifted slowly away from them. Wires snapped and wood splintered as a dark black funnel cloud screamed in angry torment overhead. The black clouds spun faster and faster, sucking everything and everyone up into it’s center. Several Shaw employees screamed in fear, frantically scrambling, trying to get out of the house that was literally being ripped apart.
Ororo bent and linked her arms around Wolverine’s bare chest, careful of his still healing wounds. “Hold on,” she whispered. Lightening slammed into the earth around them and suddenly the entire mansion shuddered, falling apart as Ororo shot her and Wolverine through one of the holes her repeated bursts of heat and light had rendered in the ancient home.
Ororo held them aloft with powerful gales, her colorless eyes searching the grounds for the one she sought to punish. “Shinobi!!”

***

“Oh my stars and garters!”
“What is it Beast?” Cyclops asked from his position as pilot.
“Weather report.”
“Yeah?”
“Northern Japan…Four massive tornadoes. Off the scales.”
Gambit exhaled. “Stormy.”
Jean went to where Beast was scanning the net for updates. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Kitty demanded, phasing through her harness and joining Jean and Beast.
“She’s out of control,” Jean breathed.
“How far away are we?” Ali asked.
“Our proximity will matter not, Alison. We will by no means be able to get anywhere near our captive teammates with the windstorms that our powerful Storm has whipped up.”
“We have to reach them!” Ali protested.
“Perhaps I could teleport in?” Kurt suggested.
“Too soon to formulate any attack plan,” Cyclops said. “Let’s just hope Storm doesn’t wipe out the country.”

***

The earth groaned. Rain lashed the ground. Lightening split the sky.
From the air Storm raged. “Shinobi!!”
From the rubble on the ground guns fired.
“Ugh.” Ororo jerked as two bullets hit her, one in the thigh and one in her abdomen.
“’Ro!”
Ororo pressed her hand to her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers. She grimaced, lowering herself and Wolverine quickly to the ground, behind a thicket in what used to be a garden. She winced as her leg hit, the pain in her thigh was intense.
“Storm,” Shinobi Shaw called from his hiding spot in the rubble that was once his ancestral home. “It didn’t have to be this way!”
Ororo lifted her head. “Where is he?” she asked Logan.
“Bout ten feet south. Probably behind…that slab of concrete.” Wolverine grunted, trying to see her injury. She waved him off.
The winds slowly died down, until gone altogether.
“’Ro?” Wolverine reached for her, concerned.
“Ssh. He needs to think he’s won,” she whispered, leaning into Logan, pressing her forehead to his.
Logan wrapped one hand around the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair. “What’re ya thinkin’, angel?”
“Revenge.” she said, her voice like ice.
Wolverine shook his head, feeling the same, but not wanting Ororo to suffer the emotional trauma that came with exacting revenge. “Babe…”
“Shush.” Storm kissed him, her soft lips like petals on his battered ones. For a brief instant it was possible to forget where they were, forget the pain and the hurt. They were together. “I have to,” she said raggedly. “For you. For Chance.” With that she shoved herself away from him, and staggered into the open.
“Storm!” Wolverine called, crawling towards her, his body still ravaged by hunger, too weak to even stand.
Ororo stumbled, falling onto the damp ground, holding her bleeding abdomen. She grunted, spitting blood.
Shinobi’s taunting laughter sounded in the quiet. “Poor, poor, Storm.”
Ororo rolled onto her back, gazing at the now clear sky. Soon Shinobi’s smug face filled her vision as he leaned over her. He toed her with his expensive Italian loafers, pressing his foot into her stomach.
“Hurts, don’t it, sweetheart?” he crooned.
Ororo grimaced in pain, lifting her hands and latching onto Shinobi’s ankle. “You tell me.” Thunder boomed.
Shinobi flinched, pointing his gun at her head.
“Do you fear me, Shaw?” she asked sweetly from the flat of her back. She smiled slowly. “You will.” Long legs scissor out, catching Shinobi off guard, taking him down. He fired as he fell, but the bullet went harmlessly into the air.
Ororo rolled as Shinobi fell, her heel lifting and slamming forward, shattering his nose. She followed the momentum, one leg bent alongside Shaw’s tall for, the other pressed into his arm, keeping his gun planted on the ground, her fist striking him in his already broken nose.
Rain poured from the sky, cold and relentless, the water slicing flesh. A thick fog pooled.
“Aaauuuuhhhh!!” Ororo screamed, striking over and over. Lightening slammed the ground.
Shinobi swore, using his free hand to punch Ororo in the stomach. “Bitch!”
Ororo gasped in pain, blood trickling from her chin. She fell back, away from Shinobi.
“Ororo!” Wolverine roared her name over the howling winds.
Shaw rose to his feet, brushing his dirty suit, his face a mask of disdain as he glared at the woman curled up in front of him. “You are unworthy,” he sneered.
Ororo laughed, a chilling sound of humorless mirth. “I was thinking the exact same thing,” she snarled.
Light exploded all around.
Ororo soared into the air, her arms spread wide, her palms upturned. When she spoke her voice was fire and ice, a merger of heaven and hell. “You dare touch what is mine!” Splinters of wood lifted into the air, spiraling around the two figures in the fog. “You are unworthy!” she threw his words back at him, and as she did, long splinters shot towards Shinobi, piercing his flesh and sending him flying, but not far as Ororo caught him in a gale, holding him aloft. Blood dripped from his face as he stared at her in horror.
“X-Men don’t kill,” Shinobi cried.
“No, they don’t,” Ororo agreed. A steel rod lifted and she caught it in her hand, the tip a perfect angled point. She weighted it and studied Shinobi.
“If-if you k-kill me, you’ll never g-get your son b-b-back,” he vowed, trying to pull the splinters from his body and frantically looking for a way down.
Storm tilted her head to one side. “You think?”
Realizing that Ororo somehow knew he no longer had Chance Shinobi shifted, painfully, into the form of Wolverine. “Go ahead, then, Storm. Kill me,” it taunted.
Ororo hesitated. “Change back,” she ordered.
“No. Kill me,” he spread his arms wide.
Ororo screamed at him. “Change back!”
The Wolverine form laughed. “Fuck you, darling.”
Ororo smirked. “It’s darlin’, prick!” With that she sent the steel rod soaring through the air, propelled by winds in excess of two hundred miles per hour. She flinched imperceptibly as the shaft plunged through Shinobi and propelled him backwards.
Feeling drained, Ororo landed in the wet grass. She tread cautiously to where Shinobi lay, twitching on the ground, three feet of steel protruding from his gut. As she watched his form shifted, becoming a woman that she didn’t recognize with blue skin and red hair. Blood gurgled from Shinobi’s lips.
Storm placed her hand around the metal dowel, curling her fingers and pressing it down. “May you find peace in death,” she whispered, lifting her left hand to the sky and summoning a streak of lightening forth.
“YEEEAAARRRRGGG!!!”
Ororo collapsed.
The smell of charred flesh wafted to where Wolverine lay, tying to crawl to his wounded wife.

***

“It’s stopped.” Jean whispered, casting Beast an anxious look.
“That could mean a lot of things,” Beast said softly.
Jean closed her eyes. “I can’t feel them…”
Ali reached for Gambit.
Kitty clung to Kurt.
“ETA fifteen minutes, people.” Cyclops said from the cockpit.
Kurt kissed the top of Kitty’s head and softly began to pray.

***

“’Ro…” Wolverine reached her side, pulling her off the blackened remains of Shinobi Shaw.
“…”
“Baby.” He fell back with her on his chest.
Ororo shuddered, threading her fingers through Logan’s wet hair. “Logan…”
“Here.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.” He let out a faint chuff of laughter as he heard the familiar screech of the blackbird in the air. “The cavalry…”
Ororo sighed. “Chance…”
Logan used the last of his reserves to wrap his arms around Ororo and pull her as close as possible. He turned his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. Home.

Xavier Institute


“I can’t believe how he‘s grown,” Ororo whispered over her shoulder as she leaned above her son’s sleeping form, knowing instinctively that Logan had entered the room, though he had not made a sound. They had arrived back in Westchester over a month ago, both needing serious amounts of medical attention. Upon arrival they had been greeted by their children. Jubilee had been on the platform, holding Chance in her arms.
Both Ororo and Logan had openly wept from their stretchers, uncaring that they, the two most emotionally reserved X-Men, were laying their souls bare as they clung to each other and their children. Their family.
“It’s good to be home,” Ororo continued.
“Hnh.”
Letting her fingers trail Chance’s dark wavy locks Ororo turned, a curious look on her face. “What?”
Logan approached her, wearing a gray sweatshirt and faded jeans, his feet bare and his long hair still damp from his shower. “Been thinkin’.”
Ororo stepped to him. “About?” She twined her arms around his neck, thankful and blessed to be able to do so. Strong arms enfolded her and she heard her husband’s distinctive rumble as he inhaled her through her hair.
Logan sighed heavily. “The cost of being an X-Man.”
Ororo tilted her head, but remained silent, studying his set features.
“I never questioned it before,” he said quietly, his thick timbre lowering further. “Never needed ta. It was a job. If I got hurt, so what…but now…” he shook his head. “I can’t lose ya, darlin’. I just can’t.”
Ororo took his hand, meshing their fingers together. “Let’s talk in our room.” She led him from the small adjacent room that was temporarily Chance’s nursery. They were once again staying in the mansion, since the boathouse was destroyed.
“What is it you want, Logan?” she asked softly, settling on the end of their bed. “To leave the X-Men?”
He exhaled a pent up breath. “Would that be so bad? To have a life of our own, away from this place.”
Ororo was surprised. “Logan?”
“I ain’t the type ta walk away from a fight, ‘Ro. Ya know that, but it ain’t just you and me at stake no more.” He sat beside her. “All I know is that I can’t stomach the idea of you, Chance or Jubes being hurt. It‘s dangerous here.”
“It’s dangerous anywhere we go.” She smiled gently at him. “The world is full of people that hate us,” she murmured, caressing the nape of his neck. “For no other reason than that we exist. There will always be danger, love, no matter where we are. But at least here, we can give our children a fighting chance, a place that they are safe, where they can be free to be themselves without fear of persecution. It is a small measure of safety, but it is the best we can offer.”
“Yeah, real fuckin’ safe,” he grumbled, unconsciously leaning into her touch.
Ororo moved into him, kissing the side of his perpetually whiskered face. “Logan, you need to stop blaming yourself.”
Logan raised one raven brow, though he shouldn’t have been surprised that his beautiful wife saw through him to what was really eating at him.
“I trust you with my life, Logan, and with the lives of our children and future children.” Slowly she reached for his hand and placed it over the gentle swell of her stomach.
Logan cocked his head.
“Right here,” Ororo whispered, “is our newest miracle.” She laughed softly as Logan’s mouth dropped open slightly.
“’Ro…?”
She nodded. “I knew Christmas Eve, and I was going to tell you, but then all the craziness with Shinobi happened…and I never got around to it. During our captivity Shinobi had his telepaths manipulate my mind into believing that I had lost our child.” Her voice shook. “But when we returned and Hank did an ultrasound to locate the bullet lodged in my abdomen, we saw her. Our daughter.”
Logan’s breathing hitched. “She’s all right?” His fingers flexed.
Ororo nodded. “She is perfect. The bullet completely missed her.”
“My God, ‘Ro.” He shuddered.
“This is our home, Logan. Jubilee and Chance, Ali and Remy, the twins and Xavier. Kitty and Kurt, Jean and Scott, Peter and Bobby…are you getting this? They are all our family, and our place is beside them. We may never achieve the dream of peaceful coexistence, but I believe it’s worth fighting for. A future worth giving our children.”
Logan chuckled ruefully.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” He turned so that they were facing each other, cupping her jaw between his warm palms. “I’m just remembering the girl I saw one summer afternoon in faded jeans and a ‘Mutant’s Do It Better” shirt, a rebellious tilt to her chin and a chip on her shoulder. Not wanting to be here any more than I did at the time…”
A wistful smile touched her full lips. “We’ve both changed.”
“That we have, darlin’.” His thumbs caressed the lines of her cheekbones. “Ya’ve given me so much.” His lips brushed hers in a tantalizingly brief caress. “Love.” Another light kiss. “My son.” His fingers grazed her abdomen. “Two daughters.” his teeth nipped her chin. “A future.”
“Our future,” she confirmed with a sigh as he captured her mouth in a heated kiss. Strong fingers threaded through her shoulder length white tresses, pulling her closer, holding her steady as he plundered her moist recess.
“Yer my everything,” he whispered, his graveled voice causing her blood to turn molten and liquid heat to pool heavy between her thighs.
“Ohh, Logan…”
He grunted. “I still love the way you say my name,” he lovingly pushed her back onto the soft tan comforter, deftly untying the knot at her waist, allowing the fuzzy material to fall open. Logan growled. Ororo was a magnificent sight to behold. He ran the flat of one hand from the base of her throat to the juncture of her smooth thighs. “Perfect,” he groaned.
“I love you,” Ororo whispered, holding his hard gaze. “Wherever you are, Logan, I am.” she threaded her fingers into his thick hair. “Always.”
“Always,” he asserted, lowering his head to hers.
They kissed with every ounce of feeling they possessed, their souls laid open for each other. “My fierce warrior,” Ororo whispered, her bottom lip trembling.
“My only,” Logan returned.
With shaking fingers Ororo gripped the bottom of Logan’s loose sweatshirt and tugged it over his head. She smiled tenderly into his darkening eyes, her thumbs brushing the flat heads of his copper nipples. He jerked reflexively, his lip curling in a beautiful snarl. She loved when he looked like this-- so passionate--so feral. Hers. She tightened her fingers in his thick mane of hair, holding him almost desperately.
Logan dropped his head protectively over hers, his breathing ragged with desire. “Yer my everything, ‘Ro.”
She burrowed closer, pulling him fully onto her, moving sinuously against the bulge in his jeans.
Logan tightened his arms, sheltering her. His mouth moved over her silken skin, leaving a trail of moist fire along the slender column of her throat and over her collar bone, until settling on one taut peak.
Ororo arched off the bed, his name a reverent cry on her lips.
Logan smiled, a truly genuine smile of happiness. Goddamn, he loved her.
She lay her hands on his hips, tugging the waistband of his jeans. “Off,” she said huskily, staring at his sensual features. Very slowly she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him slowly, deliberately, thoroughly. Completely. Her tongue swept into his mouth, teasing him, cajoling him.
Logan groaned, feeling the familiar wrenching deep in his heart. She did things to him no one had ever done before, made him feel…alive. Not the dead, hollowed out monster he had believed himself to be before she had brought her light into his dark world. His wife. His precious ‘Ro.
He found her neck again, and trailed kisses along the side. His teeth scraped her shoulders. “Off?” he teased.
Ororo raised her head, her blue eyes earnest. “I need you.”
Logan growled. He needed her as well. Fiercely. Hungrily. He levered himself away from her for a moment, jerking his pants from his hard body.
Ororo gave a faint gasp at the sight of his arousal. No matter how many times they were together, she never got over her awe of him. Her fingers brushed his skin and she delighted in his uninhibited response to her. She trailed her fingers over his hard belly, smiling when she felt him suck in his breath.
Long, elegant fingers wrapped around his hard length and Logan shuddered with pleasure. He caught her head in his hands, pulling her closer. He was in full need now, aching with it. “Jesus, baby, what ya do ta me.” He ground between clenched teeth as her hand stroked.
Ororo gave a throaty chuckle, rolling so that she was levered above him. “We’ve only just begun,” she whispered, lowering her head. Her breath teased the velvet tip of him, making his hips surge off the mattress. Her mouth was hot and wet.
“Cripes!”
Ororo leaned up and laughed, her fingers still working their magic.
She looked lush and sexy in the dark, an erotic gift, just for him, he thought, watching her with eyes heavy lidded with desire. He cupped her full breasts in his hands, kneading them with great care. With only his touch he urged her forward, nudging her legs apart with his knees so that she straddled him.
“Put me in,” he commanded gruffly.
Ororo sighed with heady pleasure, feeling his hardness twitch against her slick folds. “Sometimes, love, you can be very demanding,” she teased.
“Mmhm.” He squeezed her buttocks, urging her on.
Slowly, Ororo lowered herself onto his heavy fullness, her breath hissing from clenched teeth and a low moan escaping her parted lips.
There was a dull roar and Logan wondered if all the blood was rushing to his head, but he soon realized it was the wind picking up. It sang outside the windows, heralding an approaching storm. Logan grinned.
He surged upward, gripping her hips and pulling her firmly down on top of him. Together they were magic. Nature itself responding to the fire they created together. Logan’s hands roved, his mouth hot on her skin as he sucked her finger into his mouth, nipping at her knuckle.
She was his light, his angel. She drove away the demons of the past, took away his darkness and loneliness, and gave him more than he ever believed he could have. Home. She gave him such happiness and pleasure, there were times he honestly wondered if he would survive it.
Her inarticulate cry was muffled as he rolled them again, driving deep into her. She was so hot, incredibly tight and exquisite in her passion. She wrapped her legs around his hips, arcing into his thrusts, wrapping him in her velvet sheathe. She whispered to him in a language he didn’t understand, but the meaning was clear.
Ororo cried out as Logan buried himself to the hilt, rocking her into the bed. He was hers, and hers alone, and he showed her using his body, how much he worshipped her. “Logan,” she moaned.
His body continued to take her in demanding possession, each thrust punctuated by a throaty growl and a breathless cry. A bolt of lightening sizzled and danced across the sky. Ororo sobbed as he took her. He was making her crazy. Desperate.
Logan curled his fingers into her hair, bunching the silken strands in his fist, his thrust harder and more demanding. A wildness was settling about them. A need to be together as they truly were…daughter of nature and feral.
“…’Ro…?” he questioned, his teeth gleaming in the dark.
“Yes.” she panted, a catch in her voice. “Don’t hold back…never hold back…”
Logan cried out hoarsely, already in ecstasy, but pushed deeper, taking Ororo as his true self. The man with the wildness of a beast inside, but because of her, still and always a man. He kissed her, without restraint, without barriers between them.
Electricity arced overhead, making his hairs stand on end. White hot and sizzling around the room.
Ororo grunted and cried as the friction continued to build and build. Her fingernails scored the broad expanse of his sweat slicked back, her throaty cries urging her husband into a frenzy.
Logan anchored her hips as he thrust into her, their bodies slamming together fiercely. Savagely beautiful. He threaded his fingers into her damp hair, tilting her head back so that he could stare into her eyes.
Ororo held him tightly, their lips skimming each other as they moved, her soft grunts mixing with his dark growls.
Logan pressed a flurry of light kisses on her chin and jaw.
Ororo licked her lips, drawing his molten gaze back to her mouth. “Mark me, Logan.” she said hoarsely.
Silken lips curled back to reveal sharp canines. “Yer mine,” he snarled, latching onto her exposed throat in the curve beside her shoulder.
“Always,” she exclaimed, the brief flash of pain his teeth created mixing with the exquisite pleasure he was giving her elsewhere making her insane.
Logan thrust into her wildly, uninhibited, completely untamed and then they were both exploding, fragmenting in each other’s arms. Logan lifted his head, his guttural cry of release torn from the very depths of his soul.
“Logan!!” Ororo screamed his name, thunder shaking the mansion and rattling the windows.

A long while later…

Logan glanced down at the top of Ororo’s silky head resting on his chest and let the emotions she invoked wash over him. Just watching her sleep brought him a measure of peace he had once believed impossible. “You are my world,” he whispered, his fingers stroking her temples. Ororo gave a contented sigh and snuggled closer. He smiled down at her, thinking of their earlier conversation. She was, of course, right. Their future would never be certain with society dogging them, and anti-mutant agencies like the FoH out there. But with their combined strength and determination, they could make their future what they chose it to be. He could face anything with her at his side, and he knew she felt the same.
A broken cry rent the air and Logan’s smile broadened. Chance.
Ororo stirred but he shushed her, slipping his jeans on and telling her to rest. With predatory silence Logan made his way unerringly through the shadows to his son’s room.
Chance sat in the center of his crib, a disgruntled scowl on his cherubic face.
“Hey, kiddo,” Logan whispered, lifting him.
“Daaddaa.” Chance swatted at his father.
“Holy shit.” Logan felt his heart swell. “Don’t repeat that,” he said quickly. “Yer mama would have my hide.”
Chance cooed. “Mmmamammamamamama.”
“Uh, yeah.” Logan laughed. “So what’s yer issue, Bub?” he asked, sniffing, knowing his son was still dry.
“Ppppbbbbllllppp!” Chance gurgled, then squealed delightedly.
“Uh-huh. What say me and you go grab ourselves a brew. Well, a brew fer me, milk fer you,” Logan shifted Chance to his side, quietly exiting the room.
Once downstairs in the kitchen Logan set Chance in his high chair and settled beside him, popping the top of his beer and handing Chance a sippy cup with milk. Chance grumbled, reaching for the can in Logan’s hand.
“I don’t think so, buddy.” Logan smiled. “This is a Daddy drink.”
“Daddaaa.”
“Right.”
Ppppfftftfpp.”
“Ya make a good point, but the answer’s still no.”
Chance gripped the handle of his cup and banged it on his tray.
“Ah, hell, ya would get my temper.” Logan chuffed, taking the cup away from the giggling baby.
“Pppbbblll.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say. I’ve mellowed in my old age.”
“Mamammmamama.” Chubby little arms waved frantically.
Logan smirked. “Yer mama is one in a million, bucko. Why she ever chose me, I’ll never know, but you just be thankful she did. I’ll keep ya safe, Chance. Ya got my word. Until yer old enough ta handle yerself. Hell, even then I’ll be lookin’ out fer ya. I’ll always have yer back, kiddo.”
“As we’ll always have yours,” Ororo said softly from the archway.
Logan looked up, a bit surprised to see her there. Chance squealed, giving his father an ‘I tried ta tell ya’ look.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Ororo padded across the room. Logan pushed his chair back, making room for her on his lap. Chance cooed happily. Ororo handed him his sippy cup and this time he slurped it greedily.
"What the heck is going on?" a sleepy voice asked over a yawn.
"Did we wake you?" Ororo asked a groggy Jubilee.
"You mean with yer earthquake like sexcapades and viscous thunder? Naw, slept through it."
"Kid," Logan warned.
Jubilee waved her hand. "Just playing, Pappy." She settled herself in the seat to Chances right, crooning to him.
“Thank you,” Logan said to Ororo after a short time had passed.
Ororo pressed her lips to his temple. “For?”
One large hand settled over her abdomen and the other gripped Chance’s little hand. “A life worth living and a dream worth fightin‘ for.”
Ororo pulled Chance from his seat and nestled herself against her husband. She reached across the table and enfolded Jubilee's hand in her own. Together, cocooned in the love they shared for one another and their children, Ororo and Logan watched the sun come up over the horizon and welcomed a brand new day.