Part One

Metal, smooth and unyielding. Consuming. Too heavy to move, too thick to break ... and she’d tried. Goddess, she’d tried. Sharp pain lanced through her fingers, and she knew her blood stained the tiny grooves her nails had managed to make - nothing but a feeble gesture! - but not that, not the aching of her cramped muscles, not the raw feeling in her throat after her voice had given out, nothing compared to the pressure against her chest, crushing her. The dark, the cold ... stealing her air, bit by bit, as sneaky as any thief, and as relentless as any enemy. It was running out ... her time, her breath, her sanity. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It was too dark to see and too easy to let go ... she knew she couldn’t fight it. Not then, and not now. And just like before, another had died ... in her mind she could feel his cold flesh beside her, and see his life's blood, branding her. As before. As always. She was panting now, sucking in the tiny bits of air as she could, but soon even that would be gone. All of it would be gone ...

* * * * *

“Catch.�

With barely a glance at the younger man Wolverine swiped the bottle out of the air one-handed, twisting off the cap and downing half of the piss-poor excuse for a beer in one swig. He’d long since given up trying to enlighten these people on their alcohol choices. It just meant more of the good stuff for him. And besides, what did it really matter? The best he could hope for either way was a few minutes of numbness.

“Thanks.� He held the bottle up in a mock salute, and didn’t protest beyond an arched eyebrow when Scott took a seat beside him on the stone bench.

“No problem. Figured you could use one.� Logan watched out of the corner of his eye as Scott, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, rolled the bottle between his palms and sighed heavily. “We both could.�

A grunt was his only answer, and Logan returned to staring blankly across the expertly groomed mansion grounds, watching as the afternoon sun edged closer to the horizon. He never would have thought it possible, but somehow he had grown to tolerate One-Eye’s presence ... even expect it. After the boy’d learned to shut his mouth and stop trying to talk about things that shouldn’t be talked about, anyway. Everyone around here might think him thick as a brick, but Logan could read between the lines well enough. Despite whatever mask Scott might wear in front of the kids or even some of the other teachers, Logan knew better. After all these months Junior was still as lost as a stray puppy, and hell ... if it helped to hang out and have a beer once in a while, so be it.

Logan took another swig, scowling again at the taste, then turned a critical eye to Scott. It was usually next to impossible to figure out how he was feeling from a simple glance - like it or not, being unable to look into someone's eyes did leave most people at a severe disadvantage. But, of course, Logan wasn't most people. “How’re you doin’?�

Not so long ago that would have been a loaded question, but enough time had passed that not every little thing had to do with that damned lake. Scott didn’t even flinch before answering. “A little sore still, but nothing I can’t handle.� He rolled his shoulders as if that proved his point. “Hank ran some tests to make sure nothing got screwed up,� he added, tapping his visor. “At least, not more than it already is.� A wry smile. Not so long ago, that would not have been possible, either.

“And the kid?�

“Fine. Lucky,� Scott amended after a moment. “Turns out he actually has family who gives a shit about him. He just panicked and ran away, got caught up with the wrong crowd. The professor arranged for him to go home this morning.� He snorted laughter, straightening up and taking another, deep pull on his beer. “Who’d have thought there were still parents like that out there, huh? Wonders never cease.�

This time it was Logan who curled his lip, shaking his head at One-Eye’s attempt at humor. The kid could pretend, but Logan knew he bought into Xavier’s little fantasy hook, line and sinker. Hell – they all did, to one degree or another, for one reason or another, or they wouldn’t still be here.

“What about ‘Ro?�

Scott’s eyes might be covered, but that did nothing to hide his startled reaction to Logan's question. “She's fine. Why wouldn’t she be fine?� He spoke slowly, and Logan knew he was thinking back over the last few days, trying to remember if anything had been out of the ordinary. And if it had been anything obvious, Logan had no doubt the kid would have remembered – though he’d never admit as much out loud, Summers had earned Logan’s respect on the attention-to-detail front.

But this wasn’t anything obvious. Even the great Wolverine, for all his vaunted senses, hadn’t noticed anything at first. At least nothing specific. Fuck ... he didn’t think he’d ever forget the scene that greeted him and the Elf when they'd finally gotten through the rubble – and he wouldn’t have thought there was anything left in the world that could shock him – but everything had returned to what passed for normal around here so quickly that she’d managed to fool him for a while. And everyone else, apparently.

“I know you were catchin’ forty winks when we found ya, Slim, but ain’t ya put two and two together by now?� Logan gestured toward the sky, where thin, sometimes angry-looking gray clouds had been skating along what should have been flawless blue for days now. He watched, eyes narrowed, as Scott seemed to notice the change for the first time. “We found you two under fuck-knows how much steel and concrete. And it took us half a day to get there. I know I ain’t been here long enough to earn a gold watch for time served, but even I’ve managed to figure out that’s not exactly the ideal situation for ‘Ro to get caught in.�

Scott’s brow furrowed, and Logan felt a sharp surge of irritation. One-Eye was the flamin’ leader, and he claimed to be her friend. Maybe he had a lot of crap rolling around in his head these days, but couldn’t he get it out of his ass long enough to see what was going on? Logan shouldn’t have to be the one to point these things out. He barely even knew the woman.

“She would have said something to me,� Scott said, though his stoic face was still turned toward the sky, the telltale muscle in his jaw twitching. His voice sounded self-assured, but to Logan’s ears it rang false. “We’ve trained for that type of situation, for years now.� Ororo’s claustrophobia wasn’t a secret to anyone on the team – it couldn’t be, if she was to work in the field, and Logan knew she’d be the first one to say as much. “She has better control than you give her credit for, Wolverine.�

Logan just grunted, then finished off what remained of his beer. “You didn’t see her, Cyke.� He was tempted to describe it in vivid detail, to show Summers just how wrong he was. To explain how he and Kurt had found them, flashlights piercing the darkness and dust to reveal a woman who barely seemed like Ororo shivering and close to hyperventilating, one hand curled in Scott's uniform in a death-grip, clutching his unconscious body close. Maybe he should tell Scott about how her nails had been shredded and bloody, how she had barely responded when Kurt stroked her hair, trying to calm her. How her eyes had been a stark, unsettling white as they carried them out, her skin cold as ice, and she hadn't seemed to recognize any of them ...

But regardless of how much Logan usually enjoyed getting a rise out of Summers, this wasn’t the time, and he had a feeling ‘Ro wouldn’t appreciate him discussing her business - especially business she probably didn't even realize he knew. “All of us got control issues. I’m not sayin’ she’s got a problem far as that’s concerned. That don't mean she can't lose it once in a while.�

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sharp sound of Logan cracking his neck. He could almost hear the wheels in Scott’s head turning, picking apart this revelation like it was one of his damned puzzles. There wasn’t really any answer to be found, though, and to be honest Logan wasn’t even sure why he brought it up. Confirmation that he wasn’t losing his mind, maybe. Sometimes his enhanced senses were more of a curse than anything else, and it was rarely a simple thing to figure out just what the hell he was picking up. And to make it worse everything had felt out of sorts since they’d gotten back from rescuing the would-be rescuers ... even the air felt heavy and restless, like the pregnant pause before a thunderstorm that never came. It was making him feel uneasy, off-balance - surlier than usual - but it was some small consolation to find out that it was more than just a product of his own messed-up head.

“She would tell me if there was a problem.� Logan rolled his eyes. All that thinking, and that was the best Summers could come up with? Scott turned toward him, the ever-present worry lines seeming more pronounced, and Logan felt the faintest pang of guilt. When something seemed so patently obvious, it pissed him off that everyone else couldn't see it. “She needs her privacy, that’s all. She likes to work things out on her own.�

“I’m sure yer right.� Logan wasn’t sure of any such thing, but he couldn’t have explained why. “You know her a hell of a lot better than I do.�

Scott nodded at that, thoughtfully, and with a deep sigh Logan stood and stretched. He’d been sitting on that damn bench way longer than he should have, and his muscles ached in protest. That feeling of unease made him even more restless than usual, and he couldn’t sit still for any length of time. “Thanks for the beer, Slim.�

“Yeah. Anytime.� Scott's voice was distant, distracted, and though his intention had been to give Scott something to think about, Logan hoped the kid didn't decide to turn right around and interrogate 'Ro on her mental state.

Shaking his head at the unsettling thought of an unseasonable blizzard, Logan just waved vaguely in response as he strode back into the mansion and away from that eerie sky.

* * * * *

Ororo resisted the temptation to throw the pen across the room in frustration, at the last second managing to set it down carefully next to the stack of papers on her desk instead. She had been at this for hours, and yet it didn’t seem she’d made a dent in her work. No matter what she tried, she couldn't seem to focus for more than a few minutes at a time.

Pushing back in her chair, Ororo folded her arms on her desk and lowered her head, giving her eyes the rest her body seemed unable to accept. She tried to keep the same, familiar routine after she came home - was brought home, she reminded herself - retiring to her room shortly after dinner and rising with the sun. But the instant she closed her eyes she was back in that place ... less than a week ago or more than 20 years in the past, it didn't matter ... the images blurred and overlapped, building one over the other until it felt as if she were suffocating ...

Abruptly Ororo sat up, jerking out of the light doze she'd fallen into, her chest feeling tight and her breathing labored. The pen fell to the arboretum floor with a clatter, the high ceilings magnifying the sound in the dark silence. She flinched, even though she knew it was far too late - or early - to be disturbing anyone.

"Can't sleep?"

Ororo gasped, one hand flying up to her throat as a seemingly disembodied voice floated to her from the darkened doorway. It was even more disorienting that the door wasn't where she expected it to be - since her return her office had felt too confining, and Ororo had taken to working in the arboretum instead, large and open and surrounded by windows and sky and fresh air whenever she desired. However, it also meant that people could walk in on her whenever they wished. "Who's there?" she demanded as she rose to her feet, eyes narrowing, though there was only one real possibility at this time of night.

"Just me." Logan detached himself from the shadows, dark eyes glittering at her in the filtered moonlight. His gaze left hers long enough to take in the desk, her papers, and her disheveled appearance. Absently Ororo brushed her long hair out of her eyes. At one point it had been pulled back in a ponytail, but had since fallen loose. "Don't mean to intrude, but seein' as we're the only two prowling around this time of night, I figured we might as well do it together."

"I am not 'prowling,' " Ororo pointed out, folding her arms over chest. But she did nothing to stop his slow, steady approach. His grace seemed to be unconscious ... something she'd certainly noticed before - how could she not? - but here in the quiet darkness with nothing to distract her, it was even more enthralling. She shook her head slightly to clear it.

Logan shrugged, the corner of his mouth drawing up into a smile that looked more like a snarl. "Still up in the middle of the night for no good reason. Sounds like prowling to me."

"I am grading papers, lest you could not tell." Ororo gestured toward her desk, but didn't turn from his penetrating gaze.

"Looked more like sleeping on 'em."

Instead of stopping at her desk he continued past, deeper into the arboretum and among the riot of ferns and flowers and palm trees. She watched him for a moment, puzzled and more than a little irritated, then followed out of curiosity, their bare feet silent on the cold floor.

"You were spying on me?"

"Darlin', you're not exactly hidin' in here." He glanced back at her and grinned again, flashing sharp white teeth. "Y'know, if you're so tired, you could always give your bed a whirl."

He stopped a couple of feet short of her orchids, then dropped down to settle on the tiled floor, leaning back on his arms with his legs splayed before him. "Make yourself at home," Ororo muttered, knowing he could still hear her. Nevertheless she found herself lowering to the floor beside him, legs crossed. The full, bright moon hung directly in front of them, its light obscured by the restless shifting of clouds. "And besides, you are a fine one to speak of sleeping in one's own bed."

If she expected him to be offended at the double entendre, it didn't quite work. He snorted laughter. "You got me there."

They were quiet then, but it was comfortable between them ... it usually was, and even though Ororo had always found it odd that she could be so at ease around a man she barely knew, it didn't change the fact that it had almost always been that way. More than once she'd found him loping along beside her when she took a walk in the woods, or perched on the roof above her attic loft, staring off into the distance ... even more so after what had happened at Alkali Lake. Rarely did they speak more than a few passing words to each other, but Ororo could not deny that she found a solace in his presence that she couldn't quite seem to find with anyone else.

This time, however, Ororo wasn't completely content with their usual silence. She watched his profile, jaw tense and eyes foreboding even now, when he seemed otherwise at ease. It didn't seem he ever let down his guard ...

"What keeps you up tonight?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, though there was no one around to overhear.

Logan shot her a glance. "Same thing that always keeps me up."

Ororo nodded slowly, offering him a small smile even though she knew it wasn't any comfort. They all knew of his nightmares, but with the hours she kept Ororo suspected she was the only one who knew of their frequency. Some were of Jean, she had little doubt - that was one they all shared - but there was more to it than that.

"And you."

This time it was Ororo who was startled, her brow furrowed. "Me?" she echoed, searching his shadowed face for an explanation that wasn't there.

"Ya really think you can keep your little late-night adventures from me?" he countered.

Ororo tensed. She hadn't thought to keep her restlessness from him, or anyone else, but it wasn't something she could control - and regardless, it was a personal matter. She'd stay in her room if she could, but lately she could barely even tolerate a roof over her head. And her lack of focus and sleep truly was affecting her work - her only hope of catching up was these late-night grading sessions.

"I - "

"And don't think I haven't noticed the weather jumpin' all over the place, either. More subtle than a hurricane, maybe, but you can't fool me on that one, darlin'." Reflexively Ororo glanced outside, her eyes narrowing. Goddess, she hadn't even noticed ... "While I can't say's I blame ya, you haven't been at the meals with the others lately, and Kitty missed ya at movie night last night."

"What I do or do not do is not your concern, Wolverine." The mention of Kitten pained her, and the guilt brought an edge of anger to her voice. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the children, even if it was just a movie night. She prided herself on being someone they could depend on, especially now after they'd lost so much, and now she was starting to let them down.

"No, it ain't, except without you as a buffer I got the rugrats climbin' all over me." She had expected an argument, and the abrupt shift made her laugh despite her mood - and earned her another wolfish half-smile in return.

"I do apologize for that," she conceded, and after a moment sighed softly. She had been told that Logan and Kurt were the ones who found her and an unconscious Scott, hours after the building had collapsed around them while they were searching for the missing child (whom Logan and Kurt later managed to track down and retrieve safely), but she remembered nothing until they'd returned to the medbay. Until now no one but the professor had even remotely broached the subject with her, and even he had backed off when she refused his counsel. Just the thought of how she must have appeared, what Logan must think of her now … she was thankful that the darkness could hide her face now. "I will work through this. I have to. I am just having a ... difficult time."

Logan shook his head. "Hey, I hear ya, darlin'. I don't like people crawlin' around uninvited in my personal business, either. Just pointin' out a few things, is all."

Ororo nodded again, then bit her lower lip and turned back to the night sky. Closing her eyes she reached out, sensing for the first time the sky's turmoil that she knew reflected her own. It was subtle and superficial, but she still should have noticed it ... her focus had been turned too much inward as she fought to regain her control. Even now that she was concentrating it was more difficult than it should have been, balancing the pressure and soothing the winds, but this much, at least, was within her power to fix ...

After a few moments Ororo opened her eyes again, not surprised to find Logan's dark gaze trained on her. It was intense, as always, and equally as unreadable. There was concern there, she could detect that much, which touched her more deeply than she cared to admit - and an awareness that was as disturbing as it was surprisingly reassuring. She smiled, and for the first time in more than a week it was almost genuine. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Logan," she whispered, gripping his shoulder lightly as she rose gracefully to her feet, then left him behind in the now unimpeded brilliance of the moon.

Part Two

The days melted into weeks, fall quickly sliding into winter. Anyone who spent any time in New York state knew enough to be leery of what was to come, but many of the students at Xavier's were new to either the school or the area and thus gleefully anticipated the oncoming winter as nothing more than one months-long snow day.

Hands on his knees, taking a moment to catch his breath after his morning run, Logan scowled as he watched yet another delicate maple leaf twist off its branch, carried to the ground by a gust of wind. To him the change in the seasons was bittersweet, calling up memories that mingled the familiar with the unknown. He had grown accustomed to the biting cold of Canada, after a while even taking solace in it, but thinking of that place only reminded of him of all that he didn't know. Everything, at least in his waking mind, was surrounded by snow. Over the years it seemed the chill had seeped into his bones, into his blood, leaving him frozen and empty in the process. At least until he'd inadvertently taken a certain Southern charmer under his wing and then thrown his lot in with these misfits.

Fuckin' soft, that's what he was now. Hiding out here as if the rest of the world didn't exist. Hiding from his past, from his secrets. Any contentment he might sometimes feel was a sham, a pretty lie he told himself because he was too afraid to face who he was.

The mighty Wolverine, scared of his own shadow.

He growled at nothing and everything, lip curling up in a snarl as he jerked himself upright and headed toward the back of the mansion, no real destination in mind as dead leaves crumbled underneath his feet. It was what he was best at anyway, right? Running from his issues? Pretending everything was just fan-fucking-tastic while rage and confusion always simmered, threatening, just underneath the surface ...

The first thing that broke through his self-flagellation was her scent, cinnamon and vanilla and indefinable flowers, always surrounded by the faintest, stirring trace of ozone. A heartbeat later he rounded the corner and spotted her, back to him as she bent over her garden, jeans smeared with dirt and long hair pulled into a ponytail that swung over her shoulder with each fluid movement. White as the first snowfall; pure, before it could be tainted. Logan came to a sudden halt, not sure whether he should be pissed or relieved that she'd derailed his train of thought - however unintentionally. Crossing his arms he leaned against the brick, content for the moment to go unnoticed.

Truth was, he'd found himself watching her more often than could be called coincidental these days. Ever since that mission, really, but especially since their talk that night in the arboretum. Logan couldn't have said why if anyone asked - and as far as he knew, Ororo hadn't even noticed - but there was something about her that spoke to him ... he knew her, in some fundamental, instinctive way he couldn't have explained to anyone else, and barely understood himself. And she was still suffering. He knew that, too, without needing to be told. Oh, things were better than they'd been at first and she functioned well enough, showing up for every class, making the token appearance in the kitchen or the expected comments during staff meetings. She knew just what to do to deflect attention or avoid rousing suspicion. To Logan her little game was as obvious as a neon sign in Times Square, but apparently it was enough to pull the wool over everyone else's eyes.

Idiots.

"Are you going to stand there staring all day, or are you going to help?"

She hadn't stopped what she was doing or glanced in his direction, but her soft, accented voice was clear as crystal. Logan arched a brow, impressed, then shoved off the wall and strode toward her.

"Depends on what you're doing," he drawled. "I was rather enjoying things from where I was standing."

This time she did toss a look over her shoulder, expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. She straightened, brushing her hands on her jeans. "Winter is fast approaching." She was stating the obvious, but her tone was so full of authority he could believe the change in seasons was caused merely by her own force of will. "I must get these plants covered before the first frost, or I will lose them. It would go much faster with another pair of hands."

She smiled at him then, just a small curve of her lips, and despite his earlier, dark mood, Logan found himself returning it. "Is anyone ever able to say no to you?" he groused, but with a heavy sigh he skirted the edge of her garden and picked up the handful of stakes she'd indicated. It didn't take long to catch on to what she was doing and they soon fell into a rhythm, hammering the stakes into the ground and then fastening the tarp to the stakes. Together the work would go quickly, but Logan thought it would have taken her all damn day to do herself.

Ororo was intent on her work - or intent on ignoring him, Logan couldn't be sure. Every once in a while a breeze would tug on the tarp, earning a faint frown and dismissive wave of the hand from its mistress, but even that smallest of gestures impressed Logan. Such fine control ... the action was barely a conscious act, an instinctive reaction, but it made sense to him. If he was anger and fury and destruction, then she was subtlety and grace - but for both of them, their mutations were more than simply having some sort of ability or power they could turn off like a light-switch. It was tied to everything they did, everywhere they went. Inescapable, even for a moment, and if they hadn't found their own ways to contain it, it would have consumed them. Still might. Maybe in a lot of obvious ways they were polar opposites, but Logan was starting to think they had far more in common than he ever would have believed.

"What is the saying?" Ororo broke the silence, turning her dirt-smeared face toward him as she crouched down. " 'Penny for your thoughts?' "

"Ain't worth that much." Logan knelt beside her, holding the tarp taut as she looped the string around the stake. "Just thinkin' how little you've been around."

The smile faded, just a shade. "What do you mean? I have not gone anywhere."

"Guess that depends on your perspective, then." He swiped his arm across his forehead, sweating a little despite the cool temperature. "From where I sit, not much has changed since our little talk a couple'a weeks ago. Hell, I'm startin' to get used to seein' you around in the wee hours."

It was a feeble attempt at a joke, and it wasn't enough to fool Ororo. He felt her stiffen - and if he didn't know better, even the air seemed to grow a bit heavier. "Since you seem so fascinated with my sleeping patterns, Logan, perhaps I should inquire about your own." She pounded the stake a bit more vigorously than was needed, the toned muscles in her arms tight. "What is it that keeps you skulking about the mansion's halls? Nightmares, I presume?"

"Watch it, 'Ro." Logan growled lightly in warning, his mood rapidly darkening as he didn't expect their conversation to take this turn - at least not so damn quickly. Ororo, however, ignored him completely.

"But you so dearly want to know my own secrets, yes?" She yanked on the tarp's string so hard that it snapped, and Logan could have sworn that he heard her curse under her breath. And he also could have sworn the wind had suddenly kicked up, sending ripples along the canvas. "I hardly think that is fair."

"I ain't tryin' to snoop around on ya." Clearly they were done with the garden now. Logan stood and sent the remaining stakes tumbling noisily to the ground. "But I ain't stupid, either. Don't forget that I'm the one who found you there, darlin'. I'm the one who had to talk you back long enough to drag your ass out. I'm the one who listened to you cryin' about someone bein' dead, and about some sort of cold - which made no fuckin' sense. It was hot as a furnace down there, and Cyke just had a bump on the head." His voice was rising despite his intentions, driven by the challenge of the blank, chilly look in her brilliant blue eyes. "I'm not some fuckin' telepath, and I don't know half the shit Jeannie knew, but I know panic when I see it. I know fear. And you, darlin', are full of it."

She was standing ramrod straight now, seeming to grow taller with every word, her fists clenched at her side. There was no question the wind had wrapped itself around them both, pulling her hair free of its ponytail and tugging at her well-worn, Xavier-issue T-shirt. It whispered in his ear as it whistled past, words he could not understand. White warred with the blue of her eyes, and above them the sun faded, obscured by the sudden arrival of dark clouds. He was right - he knew he was right - but still he started to wonder if he'd gone too far. Anyone who said memories faded were full of shit - he knew better than anyone that they held the power to bury you. If someone had just done this to him, they'd probably have a gut full of adamantium right now.

Still silent, Ororo closed the distance between them until all he could see were her tortured, fascinating eyes. Her power engulfed her, and Logan could feel it licking against his own skin, thrilling and disturbing. She might be able to kill him, he realized for the first time. With his metal-laced skeleton, a mere thought from her could melt his bones, and there'd be nothing he could do to stop her. But it wasn't fear he felt ... awe, maybe. Respect. And the beast stirred within him, rising at the lure of the wildness just out of its reach ... arousal. Oh, yeah ... as Logan steeled his gaze and met this formidable woman without flinching, he knew that, too.

"You wish to know what I am feeling, do you?" she whispered, voice quiet but full of ice, not touching him but commanding his full attention. "Then I shall tell you. The darkness holds me down. In my room. Every time I close my eyes. The darkness steals my breath and crushes me, keeps me still so I cannot move. Renders me utterly helpless. The darkness, the small, stole my parents when I was but a child, leaving the cold, lifeless body of my mother over me as a reminder of its power. In that place where you found me it was all I could see, all I could feel. Her blood, dried on my skin. The sound of her rattling breath echoing in my ears. My throat raw from screaming for help that never came. The metal that would not move and the dust that coated my lungs. I wanted to die when I was still that child and I wanted to die in that building. I was trapped and alone, then and now. The only time I am free from that is when I can feel the sun on my skin, see the freedom of the sky."

Ororo took a deep, shuddering breath. Logan didn't move, didn't speak, too stunned to do much of anything but stare into her eyes, shining now with unshed tears. A lock of her now-unbound hair whipped against his face, soft as a caress. "Tell me, Logan. It has been more than 20 years since that fear was first born inside of me. Now that it has reawakened, I am asking you. Just how do I find a way to sleep through the night again? How do I learn to tolerate the confines of the rec room on an evening when it seems every student at the school is packed into it? The metal prison of the elevator? The cold, dead steel of the subbasement? You seem to know so very much, Logan, why do you not tell me that?"

They stood like that for a long moment, locked in on one another so completely Logan wasn't sure another attack by Stryker could have distracted them. Rage welled inside of him and he fought it back - rage against himself, and the pain he could see and smell and feel ... he hadn't been in that place with her, but he knew her story. He had lived it for fuck knew how long. Her words made the skin surrounding his blades itch, the hair along the back of his neck stand up. Why was he pushing this? Sometimes he thought he'd sacrifice anything to banish the horrors that taunted him in his dreams ... he'd never wish the same on anyone else. Especially not someone he cared about.

Ororo exhaled sharply, breaking the pregnant silence, and blinked rapidly as the passion seemed to fade a bit. Embarrassment began to edge out the fury, and standing this close to her there was no mistaking the blush that crept into her cheeks. Logan wanted to reassure her - make some sort of gesture or say something that would make him seem less of a complete asshole, but he did nothing.

"Please forgive me," she finally said, and to Logan her voice sounded as small as a child's. "You are clearly correct - I am not handling this as I should. I cannot be so quick to anger." Her eyes slid shut, hiding her from him, and she stepped away - a moment later the wind had once again settled into a soft breeze.

"Thank you for your help with the garden." The words were hollow and awkward as she was clearly looking for an excuse to leave. Logan raised a hand as if to stop her, but she effortlessly sidestepped him to gather up her supplies. "If I do not hurry, I will be late for my classes. Perhaps I will see you at lunch, yes?"

And with that she was gone, disappearing into the mansion's garage and leaving Logan alone with newfound guilt and self-loathing. What right did he have to push her that way? All he'd done since he arrived here was destroy things. He'd brought his enemies to their home, allowed his fascination with an unavailable, unattainable woman help get her killed, and in the process destroyed the two people here Ororo called her friends. Who did that leave her to turn to when she needed help? Him? Logan snorted derisively. Hell of a lot of good that was doing her.

His claws unsheathed themselves of their own accord, and clenching his fists Logan tilted his face into the sun, unimpeded once again. I'm sorry, Jeannie. So goddamned sorry ...

* * * * *

Ororo didn’t make it to lunch that day, or dinner. The scene with Wolverine in the garden had shaken her badly, and outside of the obligation of her classes she tried to avoid anyone and everyone. She even postponed her yoga session with Rogue, which she was loathe to do. They had been making real progress toward getting the teenager to open up, to be more trusting around others, and Ororo was hoping that they’d soon be able to make inroads on controlling her mutant gift. But today there was no hope that she’d be able to regain her focus, and if Rogue noticed anything amiss Ororo wasn’t feeling up to deflecting questions.

Sequestering herself to her room, however, wasn’t exactly working, either. It was the only place in the mansion she could be sure to avoid any company, but it did nothing for her restlessness. Frustrated with herself and her lack of control with Logan earlier, Ororo dropped back onto her bed, arms splayed and hair an unkempt tumble.

What bothered her the most was why she had lost it so completely. She had spoken the truth to Logan, but she had never revealed to anyone what had happened to her parents – nothing beyond the fact that they had died when she was very young. It was all anyone needed to know, and the rest was irrelevant. Even in her own mind, she had tried to lock it safely away so it didn't creep into her waking thoughts. Jean had tried once to get her to open up about it, shortly after Ororo arrived at the mansion, but gave up once she realized she wasn’t getting any response. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her teammates, but it was hard to break a habit that had been so integral to her life for so very long. Weakness could be exploited. And perhaps even worse, her emotions compromised her control ... and she didn’t have any right to be so selfish as to give those emotions free reign and damn the consequences.

So why Logan?

Ororo rolled to her side and tucked one arm beneath her head, staring blankly at the bedroom wall across from her. If she was especially quiet, she thought she could hear voices from the floor below – a sure sign that dinner was over and the students were starting to separate into their respective corners and cliques. Sometimes she couldn’t help but envy them ... movies and malls and friends and crushes and sleepovers, all things she’d never had, never even really knew existed until she was too old to enjoy them. It would probably be hard for any of them to understand, her intense need for privacy. But pride was all she had owned for most of her life, and asking for help - needing anyone at all - had never been a luxury she could afford.

Her mind wandered then, skirting over parts of her past she hadn't actively thought about in years. Life before the mansion, before the X-Men, seemed so distant, but Ororo knew it was because she needed it to be that way. New Orleans, Kenya ... Cairo ... if she concentrated, she could feel the echo of the blazing sun against her skin, the sand that got in her hair no matter how short she cut it or how carefully she covered it ... her first heist, just a wallet from a tourist but Goddess, how she'd eaten that night! ... Achmed, teaching her how to survive, trying to force her past her fears ... small cold can't breathe ...

She awoke with a gasp, arm aching from its awkward position, and it took her a moment to realize that she'd dozed off. The mansion was truly quiet now, and a glance at her window verified that it was well past the students' bedtimes. Frustrated with herself, Ororo climbed off her bed and went straight to her dresser, yanking out a T-shirt (emblazoned with something in German, borrowed from Kurt and never returned) and track pants. She pulled them on hastily. She needed to work this out, force these feelings away before they consumed her. And there was only one place she could do that safely.

On silent, sneakered feet Ororo made her way down the stairs, past the students' rooms, past the classrooms ... the television in the rec room threw ghostly light onto the ceiling as she passed, but it earned nothing more than a passing glance. Someone had either left it on or couldn't sleep. Nothing unusual. She passed the kitchen and her stomach growled, a reminder she'd once again skipped dinner, and she thought perhaps if she felt better after her session she might see what she could swipe from the staff kitchen.

There were no stairs to the lower level - something Ororo had grown accustomed to but which now terrified her once again. She didn't pause to think about it, striding into the elevator and punching the button for the subbasement before she could stop herself. Closing her eyes and gripping the railing, Ororo focused on breathing until after what felt like an eternity the metal doors opened and she could step out into the marginally more welcoming metal hallway.

Normally she would pause to check the Danger Room records to see if anyone was inside, or check the observation tower, but it was late now, and she was driven. Her status on the team allowed her, along with Scott, to override anyone's code. It was a safety precaution implemented by Scott after the first time they'd found Robert and Rogue trying out one of the Danger Room's more lethal programs without permission.

So it was that Ororo walked in on something that looked like it was straight out of one of Robert's horror movies. With a small gasp she stepped back against the door she'd just walked through, hand over her heart, and blinked rapidly, trying to decipher what was happening.

Sentinels ... or that was the name on the file the professor had somehow managed to obtain from the government. Prototypes of machines designed solely for the capture and restraint - some documents suggested the destruction - of mutants. Allegedly the project had lost its funding and support after what happened with Stryker, but none of them wanted to take any chances, and they'd recently incorporated the machines into their team sessions. It took Ororo a moment to see past the blinding brightness of the lasers, the mangled metal and sparking circuits from disembodied arms and legs - some the size of tanker trucks - littering the floor, to find exactly who or what the robots were fighting ...

And it really wasn't a surprise, once she did.

Wolverine, bare-chested and sweating from exertion and, she could see even from this distance, covered in long, erratic slashes of angry red. The injuries, she presumed to be from flying shrapnel, were healing before her eyes, but still Ororo had to resist the urge to run to his aid. He was furious, screaming things she could not make out and moving with a lightness that she wouldn't have thought possible with his weight, leaping and striking before the monstrosity could get its bearings and fight back. This was the first time she had seen him go after them by himself ... and despite the fact that as second-in-command she should probably reprimand him for running a program without the safeties, she also didn't think it was wise to disturb him now. And as much as she abhorred violence, and knew she should be revolted by this display, she couldn't help but be impressed. Often she felt Logan was holding back from them - she would catch it sometimes, in a glance or a seemingly casual comment - but seeing him like this, when he didn't have to be concerned about protecting others or working as a team, was breathtaking. Wolverine had just single-handedly taken down an entire platoon of Sentinels and was going to walk away, virtually unscathed, as if he had done nothing more this evening than take a stroll in the garden.

With a final shower of sparks the last remaining Sentinel started to tip over - or rather, its body started to follow its head, which had just tumbled to the Danger Room floor with the cringing sound of tearing metal and dying circuits, hissing and angry. Wolverine stood atop the chest of another felled Sentinel, claws extended and chest heaving, never taking his eyes off his opponent until the last bit of electricity flickered out.

Silence filled the cavernous room then, broken only by Logan's harsh panting and the occasional creak of simulated metal as it settled and shifted. Still in awe, Ororo nevertheless stood tall and tried to appear stern - though she doubted after that workout that Logan would see her as any sort of threat. With a vigorous shake of his head Logan cracked his neck, and for the first time turned toward her, dark eyes peering out from behind sweaty, disheveled black hair.

"Can I help ya with somethin', darlin'?"

Ororo was surprised by how subdued his voice sounded, strange amidst all this destruction. Gracefully he bounded off the evil thing's corpse and crossed the few steps over to her, ignoring his surroundings and clearly unabashed by the fact that he was half-naked ... a fact that Ororo herself was finding surprisingly difficult to ignore.

She did, however, manage to keep her eyes from wandering, which was no small feat. "I did not realize you were here," she answered, impressed by how calm she sounded herself. "Otherwise I would not have intruded. However ... " Suddenly nervous, Ororo crossed her arms and tried to brace herself. She couldn't let the opportunity pass - as strange and unexpected a setting as it might be - but she hadn't rehearsed what she might say, either. "Since I did happen to run into you, I want to apologize for my ... episode in the garden. I am not truly angry with you. I know you were just trying to help - or at the very least, you were not trying to offend - and I should not have reacted as I did. If anything, you proved your point in spades." She laughed, but it was short and empty and without real humor.

Logan's hard, dark gaze seemed to burn a hole in her, and Ororo shifted under its intensity. She got the distinct impression that he was analyzing her - every scent, every movement, every breath ... it was unnerving, and at the moment she could completely understand how some people could be so intimidated by him.

"I can't pretend I didn't hear what ya told me." He didn't even blink, but his voice was surprisingly soft.

"I am not asking that, but it is not your burden and I had no right to put you in such a position."

Logan continued to study her, his breathing having already returned to normal. He had not moved an inch since they started talking, but Ororo sensed some sort of change between them, subtle but almost palpable. He was staring at her, unflinching, but his eyes were not without emotion. Something lurked there, shifting and calculating, behind the dark blue.

"My nightmares are of heat." Ororo found she was holding her breath when he finally spoke, barely more than a growl. "Everything's full of fire. When they ripped into my skin. When the metal first hit my bones. When the rage slams into me with all the force of an exploding sun, and all I can see is red. It feels like my veins are on fire. I can't control it - can't even hold it back. There are people I remember killing, 'Ro, every fuckin' detail. Too many to even count. Enemies, marks, people who thought I was their goddamn friend, it doesn't matter. I can feel their blood and flesh on my hands and taste their fear. It drives me. Battles and places and lives that I can't fully recall and I can't forget - and even behind that I know there are years of violence and anger I can't begin to imagine. I dream of dragons - flamin' dragons, and I think it's Japan, but I don't fuckin' know. I think I might've had family there once, maybe a wife or kids, if you can fuckin' believe that, but the instant I try to hold onto that image it explodes again and all I can register is screaming and pain. And maybe it's a lie - maybe the whole goddamned thing is a lie, but that doesn't stop it from comin' every time I close my eyes."

There was nothing Ororo could say, no words that were even remotely adequate. Unshed tears filled her eyes at his tortured expression, knowing how much it cost him to tell her even that much ... she knew, because she might have had the same look on her face when she faced him just hours before. It was a wound, as real and raw as anything physical, and the one part of himself that Logan wasn't able to heal. His jaw was clenched, as was his fist at his side, but otherwise he stood as if frozen - in time, in memory ... in fear?

"So I can't tell ya how to destroy your demons, darlin', and I know you can't destroy mine. Like it or not, it's always goin' to be part of who we are. But I got a few years on you, a little more experience, and I can tell ya that when someone comes into your life who's willing an' able to share that 'burden,' you gotta take it. You trusted me, an' now I'm trustin' you back. Deal?"

Ororo felt one traitorous tear escape as she nodded, not even flinching when Logan shocked her once again by reaching out to wipe it away with startling tenderness. It wasn't that she didn't trust her friends, her teammates ... they were the closest thing to a family she'd had since her parents passed, and they held her life as dearly as she held theirs. But there were parts of her she couldn't explain, couldn't even really understand herself, and by the grace of the Goddess here was someone who not only saw those parts of her but embraced them, without hesitation ...

"Why'd ya come down here, anyway?"

Logan barreled on as if nothing unusual had passed between them, sparing her the impossible task of coming up with either sympathy or thanks, and Ororo quickly blinked back her tears.

"Oh ... I was just hoping to release some pent-up energy." She quirked a smile at him, amused by her own understatement after what she had witnessed from him. "I thought that if I tired myself out enough, I might be able to sneak in a few hours of sleep before dawn."

"Heh. Sounds like a plan. Hope you don't mind some company?"

"Not at all." Her smile had grown, and she even got one in return. It was sly and wicked, as it always seemed to be, but now Ororo thought, perhaps, there was something private in there just for her. "First, allow me to clean up your mess. Computer?" she called out. "Start new program." Instantly the robots disappeared, replaced by the impossibly smooth and undamaged metal of the Danger Room. "Run Storm, Setting 218, Level 6."

It took just a couple of seconds, then the pair found themselves in a hot, crowded street, surrounded on all sides by bartering vendors and jostled by stray children and dogs dashing around people's legs. The air around them was tainted by windblown red clay, and the relentless sun beat down on them. It seemed to take Logan a heartbeat to realize where they had to be, and once he did he arched a brow at her, intrigued. Suddenly gunshots broke the barely controlled chaos and soldiers were running toward them, scattering the suddenly panicked crowd.

Seeing the predatory anticipation etched into Logan's rugged features, Ororo couldn't help but laugh a little. "Make that Level 8," she amended, earning a muttered "that's my girl" from Logan before she threw herself into her winds.

Part Three The winter was long and lingering, to the point that even the smallest children had lost their fascination with the frequent snowfalls, but it had also been blissfully quiet.

The only activity resembling a mission had been a couple of student pickups and a few consultations with parents - a task that usually fell to Jean, but one which Scott and Ororo now had to take on. She rather thought Kurt would be the best at that sort of thing, but after some convincing reluctantly agreed that sending her dear friend would probably not create the most productive first impression, as ridiculous as that notion seemed to her.

Not much had changed between her and Logan - nothing dramatic or obvious to anyone else, at any rate. Their mutual confessions seemed to have torn down some sort of wall between them, one which Ororo hadn't truly realized had existed, and while nothing like that had happened again, Ororo could not deny that there was ... something deeper between them now. Things were more relaxed. Easier somehow. Sometimes Ororo thought she had never felt so comfortable around another person before, but that thought was more disquieting than anything else, so she tried to simply enjoy their relationship for what it was.

As always seems to happen, however, their winter peace was shattered one bitterly cold morning as Scott called an urgent meeting in the War Room. The sudden call to action - or merely the anticipation of some sort of action - was met with everything from excitement to irritation. Ororo, naturally, hoped whatever issue was at hand could be solved peacefully and easily - the violence was, unfortunately, often necessary, but not preferred.

For Logan, on the other hand, the thought of finally seeing some real action was practically orgasmic - filling the gap by starting brawls in the local bars and beating up Sabretooth wannabes in the Danger Room was starting to lose its charm.

"Thank you all for coming so quickly." Slim stood tall before the small gathering, hands behind his back and exuding all the stern authority that Logan had rebelled against when he first arrived. But instead of being irritated now, he felt almost ... proud? Huh. Weird. But there was no denying that the Cyclops briefing them now wasn't the same Cyclops of six months ago - or even a few weeks ago. Glancing at Ororo, who was elegantly seated in the chair next to his with the Elf perched in his usual spot on its arm, he knew she saw it, too. From Scott's serious tone this was obviously going to be more than a pickup, but she was practically beaming at the fearless leader - she'd once told him Scott had been like a brother to her, especially after she first arrived, and Logan was forced to amend his opinion of the stick-in-the-mud.

Slightly.

And only to himself.

"Some of you are aware of a group of mutants known as the Morlocks." Logan suspected the 'some of you' bit included just Scott and 'Ro, but whatever. "For those of you who are unfamiliar, they choose to make their home in the subway and sewer tunnels underneath the city. Most of them - or at least the ones we've encountered - possess a physical mutation that they believe keeps them from living above ground, among 'normal' society. For some of them, this is literally true." Logan saw Kurt stir out of the corner of his eye, but Scott held up a stalling hand. "We've approached them in the past, offered them a chance to come to the school or at least to accept our assistance, and we were thoroughly rebuked." He gave 'Ro a wry smile.

"They have created their own society down there," Ororo picked up, blue eyes lighting upon each one in turn: Hank, Kurt, even Marie and Bobby now (not a development Logan was particularly keen on). When she met Logan's eyes she offered a fleeting smile, which Logan returned - though it grew more pronounced when he caught Scott looking at him, jaw set in disapproval. "Their own family of sorts. And they are fiercely independent. However, out of necessity they must occasionally visit the surface to steal what they need, and once or twice they have attracted unwanted attention."

Scott nodded sharply. "And now it seems they've attracted the attention of the FoH." He paused for a moment, probably to let that sink in. Logan may not know anything about these Morlocks, but he knew more about that damn hate group than he ever wanted to know. They all did. The ignorant rednecks had grown from an annoyance to a real menace in a disturbingly short amount of time. "As you all know the professor is in Washington now, but this morning he contacted me with some information that came into his possession. It seems the FoH caught one of the Morlocks above ground and got some information out of him before he managed to escape. Now the FOH is planning a strike of some kind, though the professor believes they did not retrieve enough information to know exactly what they're looking for."

"Anything for the chance to blow shit up, eh?" Logan commented, his words a slow drawl.

"More or less. What they seem to have is a suspicion that there is some kind of 'mutant activity' in the tunnels, but no real proof. Apparently they plan on killing first and asking questions later." Scott's lip curled in disgust.

"But if they don't want our help, what're we supposed to?" Rogue spoke up, her softly accented voice catching Scott's attention. Logan may not like her being involved in this shit, but this time there was no denying his pride. The kid was really coming into her own, and he knew he owed 'Ro for helping out with that. "Cheer from the sidelines?"

"What we are hoping to do is divert their attention," Scott explained. "The Morlocks may not ask for or want our assistance, but they're not prepared to take on the FoH - especially when they don't even know they're coming. If all goes well we shouldn't even need to engage - some misdirection, and sooner or later they should get bored and give up."

"They do not seem to be renowned for their superior intellect," Hank agreed.

"So basically our job is to crawl around some sewers and play cleanup crew?" Logan didn't even try to hide his disappointment - he'd been looking forward to gutting some brain-dead, prejudiced pricks.

"Of course it would be easier simply to fight them off, but we don't want to give them any more reason to make a return visit, looking for the mutants who kicked their asses - so, essentially, yes." Scott didn't even try to hide his canary-eating grin. "No one wear their nice shoes."

* * * * *

Logan growled for the hundredth time as he stepped into yet something else that was wet and slimy and probably sentient. His senses in the confined space were going haywire, the barrage of smells and echoing sounds grating his last nerve. And it was even worse that he'd been relegated to fuckin' backup - with Cyclops, of all people. Storm, 'Crawler and Beast were somewhere ahead, trying to head off the pack of FoHers who'd somehow managed to get themselves and a small armory down here in the muck. It hadn't been much of a hunt, either - the assholes had all the subtlety of a Mack truck, hollering at each other and shooting at anything that moved. All Storm had to do was use her winds to discourage progress down certain tunnels, or redirect the Morlocks' scent from the tracking dogs, while the Elf and Beast bounced (or 'ported) around, creating false leads and dead ends. From Storm's whispered reports their efforts were effective if slow, but the FoHers were steadily making their way farther in - if they pushed it too far, he and Cyke would be the first line of defense.

Which of course the Morlocks he and Cyke had talked to - especially some loud-mouth bitch named Callisto - weren't happy about, even if they accepted the help readily enough. Ungrateful bastards.

"Storm says they're getting closer," Cyclops said in a low voice at his shoulder.

"No shit." Logan narrowed his eyes in the darkness, but while he couldn't see anything yet he could hear 'em, all right. Shouts and splashing and curses - sounded like there were a thousand of them down here, even though Storm and the others estimated it at only 20 to 30. "Bout damn time, too. Startin' to get impatient." He felt Cyke's pointed look and grinned, baring his teeth.

Suddenly a strong breeze blasted them from up ahead, surprising them enough to push them back a step. Logan snarled, unsheathing his claws only to pull them back in a second later. It was 'Ro - he caught her unmistakable scent a heartbeat before he saw her, borne by her winds and looking shockingly out of place in these dark, dank tunnels.

"Some of them have retreated." She'd started her report even before she fully landed, and Logan's brow furrowed when she seemed to falter on her feet. "About half. Some push on, but they are discouraged. Nightcrawler and Beast continue to frustrate their efforts."

"Excellent." Scott clasped 'Ro on the shoulder before moving in the direction she'd come, toward the mouth of the tunnel, one hand poised on his visor. Logan moved to follow, but hesitated. Something didn't seem quite right ...

"You doin' OK?" She didn't answer - didn't even meet his eyes, and Logan stepped closer and grasped her arm. "Hey, 'Ro ... look at me. You holdin' up all right?"

He could feel her body trembling beneath his fingers and swore - he had been worried this might happen. Had even tried to talk her out of coming along on this one, which of course had fallen on deaf ears, as he knew it would. But they'd been down here for maybe a couple hours now, and when she didn't seem to be having any problem, Logan had let his guard down.

"I'm all right." Her whispered words were for his ears alone, and Logan glanced up to where Scott stood at the ready, practically invisible in the darkness beyond the faint ruby glow from his visor. Logan would move if he had to, but right now Cyke had it covered.

"No, yer not." In response her body shuddered again and one hand clamped down on his arm. Not for the first time, Logan thought she was a lot stronger than she looked. "But we're almost done here, darlin', then we'll be out in the sun again. Just try to relax."

"Is it smaller back here?" Ororo was still whispering, but her tone had become urgent, breathing more erratic. "It feels like the walls are closing in ... "

Her words didn't surprise Logan, not anymore. He'd heard it all by now. Not long after the night she'd walked in on his little Sentinel session she'd asked him to help her face this thing of hers head-on - and night after night that's exactly what they'd done, speaking of it to no one else. It always ended the same, with Ororo edging toward panic and Logan having to shut down whatever program they were running, but each attempt was better than the last. She couldn't have held herself together this long when they'd started the sessions, but now he could see all the fears she'd managed to hold at bay were threatening to overwhelm her. She'd never really explained to him what it was all about - and Logan didn't push because if he understood anything, it was the need for privacy - but he knew it had to do with her childhood, how her parents had died. And every once in a while, when he got to thinking afterward about what he'd seen and heard, he wondered if having no memory at all was sometimes better than the alternative.

"Walls ain't budgin', 'Ro, I swear it." He thought she might have nodded, but couldn't be sure. "Jus' hold onto this ol' Canuck, and we'll be out of here in no time."

Logan felt the air shift and his body tensed, but out of the familiar burst of rolling smoke not three feet in front of him appeared a clearly agitated Nightcrawler. Cyclops whirled around in alarm, and dimly Logan wondered how close the Elf had just come to getting blasted all the way back to Boston.

"Bombs!" Kurt exclaimed, yellow eyes wide as he gestured back the way he came.

"What?" Cyclops barked.

"Or canisters of some sort." Kurt glanced back at Cyclops, then at Logan and Ororo, his tail lashing the air. "They are giving up, but said something about 'smoking them out.' Hank - I mean, Beast is watching them."

Wolverine growled, his arm tightening reflexively around Ororo. "You think those fuckers would use nerve gas?"

"They can't be that stupid." Cyclops' voice was surprisingly steady. "It could easily get to the surface through the vents, even from here. Who knows how many people that could affect. And any explosion could be devastating."

"But we already know they ain't the brightest bulbs." Logan's nostrils flared as his anger grew, but right now they needed to think, not act. Not yet. "And there's no flamin' way we can get everyone out of here in time."

"Our adversaries are taking their leave of us." Hank's voice crackled to life over their communicators. "But if Nightcrawler has found you, you know they have left some parting gifts."

"Timers," Logan growled. "Has to be, to cover their retreat. Lead us there, Elf. I can disable 'em." He fell in behind Nightcrawler, hauling 'Ro to his side. He couldn't leave her behind, but he couldn't let her fall apart on them now. He had a feeling they were going to need her before this was over, and silently he thanked whoever was listening that she seemed to sense that. His sharp ears picked up on her shallow breathing and her hand had become a claw digging into his arm, but still she kept up.

They didn't have far to go and no longer had to be quiet about it, though with all the twists and turns they had to backtrack twice. By the time they reached Beast, frustration and anticipation had stretched Logan as taut as a bowstring.

"There." For once Beast didn't waste any words, pointing to where three canisters had been propped against a shelf of concrete. They were clearly homemade, and crudely so, but that didn't mean that whatever they contained wasn't lethal.

"Elf." Kurt snapped to attention, and was at Logan's side in an instant. "Take her."

Without question, Kurt pried her hand from Logan's arm and wrapped it around his own. Maybe he didn't understand entirely what was going on, but Logan knew she and the German had soft spots for each other a mile wide. He could trust Kurt to take care of her, and be quiet about it.

"OK, Cyke, be ready." Scott was already adjusting something on his visor, having caught on to Logan's plan. Once upon a time, he might have taken offense at Logan acting as if he was in charge, but a lot had changed. A good leader knew when to delegate or step back, and as much as Logan might not want to admit it, a good leader ol' One-Eye had become. "And Storm." She responded to his voice, lifting her head and fixing on him with her now white eyes. "Listen to me - we're gonna need you here, darlin'."

That had to be enough to clue Beast and Cyke in to what was going on with their teammate, but there was nothing to be done about it. 'Ro'd understand - and if she didn't, he'd apologize when they got out of this mess.

He strode over to the closest canister, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. There - the timer was small, hidden, but its display was unmistakable. Three minutes and counting. Fuck.

"Contain the other two, 'Ro." He didn't think they would take long to disarm, but there was no way to know for sure and the others could go off in the process. Whatever these things contained, she had the best shot at slowing the explosion and keeping it from spreading. But when he got no response from her he glanced up sharply. "Now, Storm."

He heard Kurt whisper something to her, but her eyes didn't leave Logan's and still she did nothing. Shit ... what if she was too far lost in her own head to even hear him? He was tempted to tell the Elf to bamf the others out of there, if he thought they wouldn't waste their time arguing about it. "Darlin', if you don't do this people're gonna die. The Morlocks have no way out of here. And those walls? They really are going to come down."

She flinched as if he'd slapped her, and Logan felt it like a punch in the gut. Jesus, he could be a world-class asshole ...

But there was no more time to spare. Maybe he got through to her, maybe he didn't, but if he didn't get these wires cut it might not make any difference what any of them did.

With all of his attention on the mass of circuitry in front of him, calling on skills he hadn't tapped in fuck knew how many years, he didn't notice the shift at first. The thing was made by an amateur, no question, but sometimes that was even worse. The wiring didn't follow any pattern he was familiar with, and one wrong move could set it off. But the odd whistling sound grew louder, seeping into his subconscious, and finally he glanced up ...

The other two canisters hovered in the air to his left, caught immobile in the tight spiral of a mini-cyclone that parted the sludge beneath their feet and stretched to the ceiling. It was crafted with exquisite control, he could see that, the wind not jostling the sensitive explosives or impeding his work. Logan shot a glance to his other side to find her, eyes shut tight, fists clenched on outstretched arms, breathing labored and sounding painful. He could see her body trembling from here and had no idea how she was staying upright. His dark eyes shifted to Kurt, standing just behind her with one hand gentle against her back. "I have her, mein Freund."

Logan nodded and swallowed hard, forcing back whatever inconvenient emotion was trying to make itself known. He was so close with this thing, he could feel it ... there! With a quick flick of one razor-sharp claw the wire was severed, and with a growl Wolverine ripped the detonator out and tossed it in the air, trusting Cyke to take care of it.

And he did, his optic blast pounding the device past Logan's ear and smashing into the wall behind them. But Logan didn't spare a glance or even a word, intent on snatching the next explosive out of the air the instant 'Ro released the winds' hold.

The last two went much faster now that Logan had figured out how they'd been put together, the group of them working in seamless tandem. He didn't know how close they cut it, refusing to look at the timer on the last device, but he figured they were probably better off not knowing.

"OK, that's it," Logan announced as the last timer was smashed into oblivion, courtesy of Cyke. "Let's get out of here."

As the last of Storm's winds died away, Logan turned back to the team just in time to see her collapse as if her legs had been cut out from beneath her. Scott shouted and Kurt lunged forward, catching her before she could completely fall into the muck. Logan didn't hesitate - in three long steps he was at her side, sweeping her from Kurt's arms into his own. Whether it was exertion or stress, or both, he had no idea, but Ororo was unconscious, her face looking oddly peaceful in the dim, murky light overhead.

"What happened?" Cyke ran up, reaching out one hand to cradle her head. "Is she all right?"

"She'll be fine once we get out of here," Logan answered gruffly, shifting her into a more comfortable position. At least, he hoped she would be. He didn't want to think that he might have pushed her too far. "We are getting out of here now, right?"

"At your leisure," Hank answered, bounding up beside them with the remains of the explosives. "We will take these back to the mansion and dispose of them properly." His eyes grew wide when he caught sight of Ororo, almost dropping his haul in his sudden concern.

"Check her out when we get back," Logan practically growled, now as eager as she had been to put this disgusting rat-trap as far behind them as possible.

"Right," Cyke confirmed. "Let's move, people."

Logan fell in, letting their Fearless Leader pick their way back through the tunnels and focusing instead on the still woman in his arms. In the darkness no one probably saw him, but either way Logan didn't give it a thought. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her forehead, whispering against her cool skin.

"We're goin' home, darlin'."

Part Four

Ororo smiled as she swept through the mansion's main hall. Spring had arrived, at long, long last, and after much toil and many whispered blessings she'd entered her garden this morning to find the Goddess had finally rewarded her efforts. Almost overnight everything seemed to blossom, so much so that for the sake of pruning she could excuse clipping off a few blossoms - daises, roses, sunflowers - and currently was depositing them in every available bowl and vase she could find. On an impulse she tucked the very last daisy - a vibrantly purple bloom - behind her ear, which made her feel surprisingly girlish.

The truth was, there was an ulterior reason for her exceptional good mood this weekend day. A plan - a thank you, of sorts - had recently come to fruition, and the subject of that plan was just beyond the front door.

With a flourish she opened the front doors, stepping out into the warm sunshine and allowing herself a quick spin in the lazy breeze, her long prairie skirt brushing her bare legs. Goddess, it felt wonderful out here ... every season held its own unique magic and she reveled in each one, but she doubted there was any feeling more transcendent than that of the few true weeks of spring, as it chased away the last of winter's icy grip.

"Good afternoon, Logan!" she called out, almost instantly spotting him across the lawn. Or rather, she spotted the car he'd been working on every weekend for ages now. Its massive hood was up, again, and Ororo had little doubt as to who was hidden behind it. Honestly, it seemed to her that it might have been easier to build a vehicle from scratch than to spend any more time on this helpless cause. She had little knowledge of cars - or any reason to acquire such knowledge - and to her, this vehicle seemed nothing more than an oversized, outdated, barely moving scrap heap, regardless of how often Logan and Scott tried to convince her otherwise.

"Just a sec, 'Ro." His deep voice was muffled, punctuated by the suspicious sound of metal banging against metal, and she was forced to amend her initial thought. A helpless cause it might be, but for whatever reason Logan clearly loved working on the thing. His own personal garden, she mused, only this one grew oil spots and gear shifts.

"Somethin' you find amusing?" Ororo glanced up to find a deliciously sweaty, grease-stained Logan peering out at her, one eyebrow sharply arched, as he wiped his hands on an equally stained rag.

"Not at all," she replied, bare toes curling in the cool grass as she made her way over to him, offering in hand. "Merely enjoying the beautiful day. And since you have been out here since breakfast, I thought you could use a break."

"Ya read my mind, darlin'." With a genuine smile he swiped the cold beer from her and swallowed most of it within seconds. She smiled, pleased that she'd managed to find one of his favored Molsons from the basement refrigerator. Kurt must have made a point of stocking up.

"Can you stop for a few minutes?" Logan lowered the beer and squinted at her in the dazzling sunlight, but didn't answer. "There is something I wished to discuss with you."

He studied her for a moment, but she did her best to appear completely innocent. "Least I can do after you brought me this, eh?"

"The very least," she agreed, throwing him an impetuous wink as she turned on her heel and started toward a more private area, safe from wandering, eavesdropping students. She didn't look back, trusting him to follow. Exactly when that instinctual trust came to exist between them, Ororo couldn't have said, but it was there nonetheless and was something she had come to treasure.

When she found an open clearing far from the mansion that she was satisfied with she abruptly sat, turning as she folded her legs beneath her billowing skirt. Ororo tilted her head into the warm sun, closing her eyes briefly as she waited for Logan, grunting with feigned annoyance, to lower himself to the ground beside her.

"I'd think this was some sorta bad news, 'cept you look way too happy for that." He leaned back on his arms, comfortably close, and Ororo couldn't help noticing that he seemed almost as pleased with the day as she was. Perhaps he didn't sense the changes in air pressure or the delicate sheen of moisture clinging to the air around them as she did, but Ororo had no doubt that the breeze whispered to him of freedom, the sunlight beckoned with possibilities. And perhaps, even, hope ... though of course, hope for what was partially the reason she had sought him out this day.

"Oh, no, not bad news at all, thank the Goddess. At least, I do not intend for it to be." Now that she was about to speak it aloud, she was beginning to wonder at the wisdom of it. In making the plans she'd thought her idea absolutely perfect, fitting for who he was and what he'd given to her, but what if he found it too intrusive? Ororo pressed her lips together, suddenly nervous, but did her best to push it away. What's done was done, and even if Logan didn't appreciate or accept her offer, ultimately that wasn't the point. She wanted to help him, yes, but it was the gesture that was the important thing - as long as it didn't insult him in the process.

"So ... you gonna tell me what's goin' on, or just sit there with that ... " Logan narrowed his eyes at her, then smirked playfully. " ... blissed out look on your face?"

"I apologize. I did not mean to offend you with all my inordinate amount of 'bliss,' " she sniffed indignantly, but Logan wasn't buying it and she didn't have it in her today to even pretend to be in a bad mood.

"All right, Logan," she conceded after a moment. "Here it is."

Ororo shifted on the grass to face him more fully, skimming her palms across the soft blades - a bit of a stalling tactic. Her knees brushed against his jean-clad leg as she looked down into his face, marveling at how young his hardened face appeared in the natural, bright light. Neither one of the flinched from the contact. "There is a ... project I have been working on. I did not mention it before because I couldn't be sure it would come together, and now that it has, I am not certain you will welcome it."

"Can't welcome it if I don't know what it is, darlin'." He smirked at her again, and she rolled her eyes.

"A while back, you told me something," she continued, her smile turning into something more thoughtful. There was no one around to hear, she was certain, but still she lowered her voice. "Confided something in me, more specifically. Just as I did with you."

"Yeah, I remember," he said slowly. He hadn't moved and his tone had not changed, but Ororo sensed a tension in his words, almost a thickening of the air. She could hardly blame him. "What about it?"

Ororo licked her suddenly dry lips. "You have helped me a great deal in the last few months, Logan. I'm not sure you know how much. And it is more than just the claustrophobia. You have taught me how to trust again, something I would not have thought possible. You have given me a safe place to open my heart, to be true to myself - even if that was not your intention." She offered a gentle smile, and could have sworn the corner of his lips turned up in response. "And while I know you would never expect it, I have been trying to find a way to show you just how much that meant to me."

"Not lookin' for some sort of payback, 'Ro." He didn't seem offended, but his eyes seemed to darken somewhat.

"I know that," she said quickly, reaching out to lay a hand on his thigh. She was tempted to linger there, the material warm from the sun and his body. "I do not mean to imply as much. But nevertheless, I wanted to make some sort of gesture."

She sighed deeply, gathering her courage. No turning back. "I have an ... acquaintance, from my time before I met the professor. Her name is Yukio. We crossed paths for the first time while I was still living in Cairo as a girl. She moves frequently and contacts me from time to time, always unexpectedly, and usually to tell me of the grand adventures I am missing out on." Ororo smiled again, though this was less for Logan and more for the memory of her outrageous friend. "Out of nowhere she called me last week, and as it turns out, she currently has business in Japan. Her homeland."

Ororo paused, allowing that information to sink in, but Logan showed no outward reaction. "She is a ... well, a thief and an adventurer, among other things. No one knows Tokyo better than she does. Her connections are impressive and discretion is of the highest priority with her. I did not tell her anything specific, but on an impulse I asked whether she could provide a place to stay, and perhaps a guide, if a friend of mine needed to spend some time in the area. She agreed."

Still Logan said nothing, but Ororo had a hard time believing he hadn't made the connection himself. The silence was unnerving, however, so she barreled on. "The friend I am referring to is you, as you have probably concluded. Of course, whether you take her up on the offer is completely up to you, and there is no problem or inconvenience to Yukio if you do not. And ... there is one more thing, if you think you might be interested. If not, believe me, I understand. But I thought that if you decided to take Yukio up on the offer you might want some company. Some help, perhaps." No reaction. Ororo stopped rambling and took a deep breath. "I spoke with the professor, and he said they could spare me for the summer as well. Right now he thinks I am simply requesting an extended vacation."

Continued silence, and Ororo had to bite her tongue to keep from pouring more words into it. She had given him a great deal to absorb, certainly a lot more than Logan had been expecting, and she must give him time to process.

"Let me get this straight," he finally said. Ororo could read nothing from his voice, which was flat but not laced anger, or disappointment, or anything else she could discern. He might as well have been reciting a grocery list. "I tell ya about a few memories I think may have something to do with Japan, about people I may or may not have actually known there - people I may not even want to remember - and from that you take it on yourself to set up some sort of reconnaissance mission, just the two of us, with the help of some woman I've never met, all without my agreement. That right?"

Put that way, the entire thing sounded patently ridiculous. Deflated, Ororo merely nodded, eyes lowering to her lap. It had sounded like such a wonderful opportunity in her head, and she'd actually managed to convince herself that he'd welcome the chance, possibly even thank her for it. But clearly she hadn't thought this through properly. She had made a great many assumptions, and while she hadn't betrayed his confidence it still might be too close for comfort for a man like Logan. How could she have been so -

Her thoughts were cut off, driven away by the sudden, unexpected feeling of fingers snaking into her hair followed a hearbeat later by lips pressing against hers, soft but insistent. Ororo froze for an instant, startled, but instead of stopping like the fantasy or momentary lapse of sanity she assumed it to be, the kiss only deepened ... tentatively she began to return the gentle pressure, ignoring her confusion as her eyes slid shut in undeniable pleasure ...

This was the very last reaction she could possibly have anticipated - the very last thing she could allow herself to even contemplate, now or ever. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this ... Logan's thumb stroked the pulse of her neck, just barely, and Ororo couldn't stop herself from curling her fingers around the taut muscles of his arm, sighing in rare contentment. Oh, in fleeting moments she'd wondered what it might be like to kiss the mysterious Wolverine, more often as they grew closer, but never in her wildest dreams did she think she'd ever have the chance to find out. Never thought she'd come to know how his barest touch made her stomach clinch, her breathing erratic ...

... everything's full of fire ...

And while it was truly the furthest thing from her mind at the moment, she couldn't help but wonder, distantly, why was this happening now? Just a moment ago she'd been so certain that he was furious with her.

His hand cradled her head and he pressed the tiniest bit closer, opening his mouth to taste her. Ororo welcomed it, unable to stop the soft cry that slipped from between her lips. Though she could still feel the sun warming her, taste the ever-present flavor of tobacco and alcohol and smell the impossibly intoxicating scent of sweat dried against his skin and clothes, Ororo still half-believed that she was dreaming, that any moment she'd open her eyes to her familiar, empty room. And after an endless, blissful moment it did end ... but she did not come back to reality to find herself alone.

Logan pulled away, slowly, only far enough so she could see into his eyes, his fingers still tangled in her hair to keep her close. Ororo drew a shaky breath and had the good grace to be somewhat embarrassed at how obviously he had affected her, but there was nothing to be done about it. Instead she met his intense gaze without wavering, searching their dark depths for some sort of understanding but finding none.

Ororo would have called it passion that she saw in his eyes, but she was afraid to believe that. She could feel it in herself, burning in her soul and charging the air around her almost against her will, but she was not foolish enough to assume there was anything more to it. All she could do in her confusion was wait for some sort of explanation, whether or not she really wanted to hear it ... and as she waited, file away every glorious detail.

"No one's ever done anything like that for me before." It was more a growl than a whisper, and this close she could feel his voice roll straight through her, warming her. "Why would you do that?"

"I - I told you," she stammered, uncertain of how to answer. Absently, her hand began to stroke his shoulder. "You have given me so much, I just wanted to give you something, too. But I did not mean to invade your privacy, and I would not be insulted if you don't want to go ... "

"Oh, I'm goin'." And this time, when the wicked smile touched his lips there was no denying the intent. Ororo still felt lightheaded with surprise and sudden possibilities that were unthinkable just five minutes ago, but she managed to smile in return, fingers touching his jaw, his mouth, in something like wonder. "And you're comin' with me. Unless you wanna leave me alone with this Yukio chick."

Mentioning Yukio somehow made this whole thing suddenly seem real, and an almost giddy laugh bubbled up from her chest. Ororo reflexively covered her mouth but Logan pulled her hand away, pressing a kiss into her palm as naturally as if this was a habit between them. And the thought that it actually could be just made her laugh again. This had not been her intention - none of this had been her intention. She cared about Logan - and yes, she loved him. He had become her best friend, her confidant. And yes, she could admit to feeling drawn to him in unexpected, even decadent ways - as had most women in the mansion, if one listened to gossip. But romance? It was a notion she simply did not entertain for herself, with Logan or anyone. It was an unattainable ideal. Beyond her.

But all that rationalization didn't change the fact that she was currently curled in the warm grass on a glorious spring day with Logan's lips mere inches from her own, his fingers grazing her scalp and eyes blazing with a private mischief. Did either of their intentions really matter now? Maybe this hadn't been her plan - or his - but she had trusted him and their relationship this far. What if he was giving her one more thing ... and what if it was within her to return the gift?

"Not a chance," Ororo whispered. Her breathing was more or less under control now, and she gave Logan a bright, genuine smile. "Yukio may be my friend, but I do not think she has any idea how to recognize a boundary."

"So we got boundaries now? Huh. Don't know how I feel 'bout that, darlin'."

Ororo thought he was joking, but nothing seemed certain anymore. "Oh, no, Logan, I just meant - "

He leaned in, lips brushing her and capturing her protest between them. "You gotta learn how to take a joke, Ro," he murmured, kissing her again, swiftly, then pulling back. His hand left her hair to take hers, and his eyes dropped to where they were joined. "Look, that was ... I was just bein' impulsive, I guess. 'Thank you' seemed kinda stupid to say. Not big enough, maybe. But I can't say I haven't thought about doin' it before. And I wouldn't mind doin' it again." He lifted his head again and gave her a crooked grin. "But I'm not tryin' to scare ya or push anything, just so ya know. Not that you seemed to mind too much."

Instinctively Ororo stiffened at the challenge and made a valiant attempt to steel her expression, but it was hopeless and they both knew it. There was no pretending she hadn't enjoyed that kiss, and Logan would know if she was scared or uncomfortable without her having to say so. And on top of that, she found that she didn't want to pretend ... which in many ways was the most frightening thing of all.

"There is nothing wrong with being impulsive," she said, diplomatically. "If I had known that would be how you would respond, I might have done something like this ages ago. And I think it fairly obvious that I was neither offended nor repulsed by your actions." Logan snorted laughter and she had to smile. Gently she shifted her hand so she could hold on to him, and squeezed. "I cannot say how happy it makes me that you like my idea ... and that you want me to go with you. Whatever ... whatever it may lead to."

The deeper meaning was blatantly obvious to them both, but Ororo didn't care. She felt oddly ... powerful all of a sudden. She watched as Logan moved, pushing off his arm and stretching a leg to one side of her, elbow propped on his knee. He traced his knuckles along the column of her neck, leaving a trail of fire along her skin. "Well, then." His voice sounded like a purr as he leaned in, and Ororo parted her lips in anticipation at the feel of his warm breath. "Sounds like we have a date."