The Amazon / Dead of Night

Ororo Munroe, the X-Man codenamed Storm, plunged headlong through slick underbrush, sliding along a slippery incline at breakneck speed. Her normally luminescent white hair hung around her shoulders in dirty, sodden ropes. Wet leaves slapped her face, causing her to spit out several green leafy bits. Lightening flooded the night sky and the earth trembled beneath a jarring boom of thunder.

Torrential rain drenched the forest, rendering even the thick leaves and vines of the rainforest’s natural canopy ineffectual protection against the wind-lashed deluge. The terrible weather was an environmental response to her emotional state she knew, but she was too exhausted to do anything about it now. She slid against a small sized tree, wrapping her arm around its slick trunk. Cocking her head to one side she listened to the sounds of the forest, straining to hear any noise that would indicate her target’s current location.

Ororo turned her face up to the rain, opening her mouth and capturing reflective droplets on her tongue. Despite the dire circumstances she now faced, she longed to give herself up into the exhilaration of the night, to the fury of the storm, her storm. She could feel it, like it was a part of her; the pounding of the thunder, the streaks of white-hot lightening, and the cool hit of rain pelting her heated flesh. There was no time, however, to immerse herself as she desired. There were lives that hung in the balance and she couldn’t afford such a selfish indulgence.

With a grim look of determination Ororo unlocked her arms from the slender trunk and once again began her mad descent along the rain forest’s muddy incline. She was sliding much faster now than before and she felt a burst of fear as she realized that she was dangerously close to the edge of a sheer fall. With a grunt she threw herself backwards, her fingernails digging into the rich soil, searching for something--anything-- to grab onto.

Normally a fall from a cliff, sheer or otherwise, wouldn’t have been an issue, she could fly after all; however, she was afraid that she may be too drained now to summon strong enough winds to support her and a fall from this height would be devastating if not fatal. Storm began to swear under her breath as she skittered down the muddy hillside, unable to clasp onto anything more substantial than loose leaves. Finally, as panic was beginning to swell, her nearly numb hand found exposed roots from a dead tree and she gripped them for all she was worth.

Taking great gulping breaths, Ororo rested her cheek in the cool mud. Damn it, where was he? Slowly she crawled to her knees, holding the root with her right hand as she once again tried her communicator. “Storm to Cyclops, do you copy?” The crackling hiss of static was her only reply. Damn. Thunder rumbled overhead, weaker this time. A quick flash of lightening illuminated the ground below the drop off and she sucked in her breath.

Below her, on the ground thirty feet down, a man lay prone, his limp form surrounded by six murky shapes, all carrying weapons. One man raised his arm and Ororo could see an outline of a rifle resting against his elbow just before the man fired round after round into the prone form, the lifeless body jerking with each hit.

“Wolverine!” she screamed.

All caution forgotten Ororo flung herself down the hill, spewing through the mud slicked leaves and freefalling towards the ground below.

An earsplitting scream roused a semi-conscious Wolverine from his stupor. He twisted on the ground, six adamantium laced, razor sharp claws emerging from the backs of his hands, splitting skin and tearing muscle as they erupted between his knuckles. The night exploded in a blur of sound and movement. With hardly a blink to betray his motion Wolverine swung his arm in an arc, slicing the end off of the rifle pointed at him. One of the other men fired and the acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the bitter scent of his own blood filled his nose. With a savage snarl he turned on the soldiers, his unbreakable blades sinking true and deep, as the Wolverine became lost in a ruthless killing frenzy that was over in seconds.

Blood bubbled and gurgled from one young soldier’s mouth as he fell. With the last remaining strength in his body, the nameless soldier pulled the pin on one of the cylinder grenades strapped to his green combat suit. The resulting explosion was immediate and forceful. Wolverine was thrown back, landing hard, his ankle twisting behind him with a sickening snap and crack, the tendons tearing. Fuck!

Wolverine felt blood seeping along his front, soaking his torn shirt, his body literally riddled with wounds. He was losing consciousness rapidly. Shock was settling in and his teeth began to chatter. Over the dull roar of blood in his head, he thought he heard the sound of a freight train and he blinked groggily. A freight train? In the jungle?

Hurricane force winds were suddenly howling around him. Good. Great. Perfect. Survive months of torture and hell, take out half an army to escape and he’d be done in by the fuckin’ weather. Brilliant.

Surprisingly, just as quickly as it had begun the winds ceased and the night was still once again, save for the patter of rain against heavy leaves and the distant rumble of thunder as the unexpected storm tapered off.

Wolverine lay still on the wet ground, his mind a foggy blanket of hazy pain. Rain washed into his mouth choking him. He tried to sit up, tried to focus. Had someone really screamed his name? He closed his eyes, hearing a voice that reminded him of smoky bars and black satin sheets. Stupid. It couldn’t be her. She was thousands of miles away with the rest of those goody-goody X-brats.

Forcefully he opened his eyes, the harsh reality of his situation returning. He was laying in muddy goop, his body battered and beaten beyond recognition, his healing factor getting the workout of his life, and he was alone. The only building for hundreds of miles was the fucking torture palace he’d just escaped from. Waves of weariness crashed over him. The night could’ve gone better, but he was free. At least until they sent more troops after his sorry, broken ass. He was too weak to run right now, but he had to. He needed to move--they would be coming for him…they always came for him.

Wolverine swore viciously, angry that his plans had failed so dramatically. He had planned this escape for two days, taking into account the soldiers routines, who would be guarding him, and even the weather. The damn monsoon had been completely unexpected.

Wolverine grunted again as he levered himself up on one elbow to peer through the rain and he froze. A few feet away from him in the mud sat Ororo Munroe, her head was bent forward and her long tresses were hanging in sodden ropes over her face as she heaved in labored breaths, seemingly oblivious to the rain. And to him.

He cleared his throat pointedly. Ororo lifted her head and faced him. Their gazes locked. Her eyes immediately narrowed.

Ororo pushed her tangled hair from her face and crawled over to where Wolverine lay. “How bad are you hurt?” she asked with sharp practicality.

“I’ll survive,” he growled. He tried to get up but his leg throbbed, his ankle giving way beneath his massive weight.

Ororo reached for him and despite his struggles she held fast, her strength surprising him. She propped her shoulder under his arm and helped him stand, her mud streaked face impassive. “We need to move. Find shelter.”

He simply grunted.

Together they trod through the thick foliage, making their way slowly through the dense jungle. Wolverine would occasionally extend his claws, cutting through the thicker parts on their makeshift path. After a time they came across a shallow stream and Ororo halted, listening. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

Wolverine nodded. “Yeah. Waterfall.”

Ororo shifted his weight, preparing to move again. “Let’s go there.”

Wolverine’s ankle struck a jutted rock and he staggered, pulling her down with him into the cold water. Ororo landed on top of him with a soft oomph, her wet hair slapping him in the face. She pulled it back over her shoulder, rolling from him and trying to get him to get up.

“Leave,” he barked angrily.

“I don’t think so,” she snapped in return. “I didn’t fly all the way down here to find you and leave you.”

He growled at her, his upper lip curling away from feral fangs. “Why did ya fly down here?”

“That bald headed crank in a wheelchair that supports us misses his favorite pet,” she glowered at him.

Wolverine snorted. “Obviously ya don’t share Chuck‘s dilemma.”

Storm’s answer was flat and honest. “No. I think rescuing you is of waste of time and energy.”

“Then why the fuck are ya here?” he demanded, his pain making each word more growl than syllable.

“Because I’m an X-Man and it‘s my job. Something I take pride in,” she responded, trying again to rouse him.

“Just leave me.” He said again, resisting as she tried to pull him to his feet.

“I can’t. What kind of X-Man would that make me?” She tugged harder, her hands sliding up his mud slicked skin and she fell backwards, splashing into the rocky stream.

“A fuckin’ smart one.”

Ororo didn’t respond, instead she simply sat in the water staring at him stubbornly, her black uniform tattered and torn in several spots, her hair a muddy mess, the dirt mixing with the blood trickling down the side of her face.

“Yer hurt,” he said, almost accusatory.

She shrugged indifferently. “Part of the job.”

Wolverine frowned. He didn’t like the idea of her hurt. He snorted disdainfully, what the fuck did he care if she was hurt? He didn’t ask for their help. Didn’t want it.

“Well, too bad, Wolverine. Now get up.” Storm demanded. “There’s a rock wall behind that waterfall, I noticed it when we flew in. We can take shelter in the cave.” She stretched out one muddy arm. “Come on.”

Wolverine met her determined gaze. She was just as stubborn as he was, and he could see that she wasn’t about to bend. He tilted his head into the rain. Being in a dry cave as opposed to a wet stream did seem like the better of the two options. “Fine.”

The cave was deep and roomy and partially hidden by the waterfall, which was beneficial giving their current circumstances. Ororo released him immediately upon entering the dark cave and he slid unceremoniously to the hard floor. “You came alone?” he asked after a brief silence.

“No. I got separated from the others after an explosion.”


*****

Undisclosed Military Facility / Dead of Night / One hour ago...

“Status, Storm?” The still silence of the balmy summer night was broken by a hiss of static and the commanding voice of the X-Men’s young, but disciplined leader, Cyclops. He and his team of renegade fighters were stationed near a lone outpost in the middle of an Amazonian rainforest. Although clearly a South American territory, the outpost was US Military manned.

Storm’s silken, sultry voice responded to his request. “Four guards front gate. Three on north wall, same on all sides. Six grounds patrols, with dogs. Possibly hostiles on the inside, I can‘t make anything out from up here. They seem to be searching for something…or someone.”

Cyclops took the information in, running it through his quick mind. “Marvel Girl, do a thermal scan of the building. See if we can narrow down his location before we go plowing in there.”

“I’m on it.” Jean Grey replied. She dropped her heavy black pack and pulled out a pair of night vision goggles, modified by the late Hank McCoy. As she strapped them to her head she felt a brief sting of sadness, remembering their recently murdered teammate and friend.

There was a moment of quiet, then, “This guy we’re after must be pretty special for Xavier to risk all of our necks like this.” Alison Blaire, former lead singer of the punk rock band Dazzler, commented.

“He’s the most dangerous mutant on the planet,” The large Russian mutant known as Colossus confirmed, a trace of pride in his deep accented voice.

“He’s a waste of our time.” Storm said with quiet conviction. “I for one think we should let Xavier’s little pet rot.”

“Whoohoo. I detect some hostility.” Alison whistled. “So who is this guy exactly?”

“His name is Wolverine. He was a government assassin until he came to the Institute. He signed up under Professor X and became an X-Man. The best X-Man we‘ve ever had.” Colossus rattled off.

“This dude’s an X-Man?”

“Was.” Storm said shortly.

“What happened?”

“He and Cyclops had a ‘falling out’.” Bobby Drake, Iceman, said with a chuckle at his own joke.

Alison came back. “I don’t get it, Snow job. What’s so funny?”

It was Storm’s ice cold voice that replied. “Wolverine attempted to kill Cyclops. He threw him over a cliff in an effort to have our beloved Marvel Girl all to himself.”

“No shit,” Alison said with a touch of disbelief. “And we’re rescuing this guy?”

“Apparently.”

“Cut the chatter.” Cyclops came back on the line, his voice edged and hard. “Storm, give us some cover.”

Immediately the night air became a bit cooler and a thick blanket of fog rolled across the ground, enveloping the team and the outpost. The X-Men pulled on their multi-functional goggles, needing to be able to see in the thick mist, readying themselves for the upcoming skirmish.

“Angel, you and Colossus take out the front gate on my signal. Iceman, Dazzler and I will follow, formation Alpha Zulu Gamma. Marvel Girl, keep the jet ready. Storm, stay airborne and Nightcrawler be ready for extraction.” Cyclops barked the orders, quick, succinct and efficient. It was easy to see why he was the leader of the X-Men. Upon confirmation from his teammates, Cyclops shot off a quick optic blast into the fog, the ruby red glow distracting the guards.

Warren and Colossus took off immediately. Warren, aptly codenamed Angel due to his Adonis appearance and the massive white wings sporting from his back, flew high and fast, carrying the large Russian towards the front gate. “Ready?”

“Just say the word!”

“Now!” Warren released Peter Rasputin, watching through the red tinted goggles as warm amber flesh glinted pink steel and crashed through the barricade like a human wrecking ball.

Before the dust and debris even had a chance to settle the other X-Men piled through the gate. Iceman immediately sent a wall of ice and snow up, freezing the gate guards and preventing them from firing their weapons.

A high pitched alarm sounded, the shrill shrieking blaring through the night, sending the guard dogs into a frenzy. “Thank you. The louder you get the more you get!” Alison raised her arms over her head, bright light lasers shooting down her tattooed arms and out towards the charging canines.

From a close proximity to Alison, Cyclops questioned, “Marvel Girl, location of target?”

“Thermal scan shows nothing, but there is a lead lined wall at the back of the building. Maybe there.”

Bullets ricocheted off the ground near Cyclops’s feet. He turned, firing short, powerful optic blasts in the direction of the gunfire. “They know we’re here now, Storm. Clear the air.”

The winds picked up and the fog dissipated, melting away like it had never been. “Cyclops. Helicopters. Closing in fast.” Storm warned from her aerial position.

“Can you handle them?”

A rumble of thunder was his only response and despite the tense circumstances, Cyclops smiled. And they called him stoic. His smile faded as he recalled the reasons behind Storm’s closed off demeanor. Hank. Their friend and brother in arms so recently taken from them. Storm had taken it harder than anyone, Hank had been her very best friend, and the result had been a complete emotional shut down from her. No laughter, no anger, no anything. That was until tonight, until they had been ordered to come down here and rescue Wolverine. Then she had finally shown something.

High above the lone building and the confrontation between her fellow X-Men and gun wielding soldiers, Ororo watched the two approaching Comanche helicopters with glowing white eyes. She hovered in the air, patiently waiting for them to get closer, her white ponytail flying behind her in the wind.

As soon as the copters were in range she sent gale force winds under their bellies, pushing them away from her. Flashes of lightening snapped from her fingertips, narrowly missing the black transports, but she didn’t care, not like she should have. The urge to ‘slip’ was nearly overwhelming, but she fought it down. With barely a conscious effort she sent bolts into the tails of the helicopters, forcing them to crash land into the dense foliage of the jungle. Satisfied that the helicopters no longer posed a threat, she performed a midair flip and flew back towards the still under siege outpost.

Closing in on the fighters she caught sight of Cyclops as he used his powerful gaze to punch a hole through the cement and mortar of the building that they believed was the current housing for the Wolverine.

Inside the small building Cyclops and Colossus raced through the corridors, towards the back of the building. A large iron and lead gate and door stood in their way. “Take it down.” Cyclops ordered.

Colossus ran forward, his metal feet slamming into the ground, denting the linoleum. He hit the door with his right shoulder, busting through it with the effort most people would use to bust out of a paper bag. Inside the sealed room sat a cage, the door swinging open on broken hinges, three soldiers lay on the floor, entrails spilling from one, and the two others beheaded.

“Christ.” Cyclops said entering the small, foul smelling room. He counted hundreds of bullet holes along the wall behind the cage, the gray stucco decorated with crimson splotches. There was urine and fecal matter everywhere, sprayed and thrown on the cage. It was obvious that the people that had captured Wolverine took pleasure in humiliating the man and for the first time in their acquaintance Cyclops felt genuine sorrow for the trials the feral mutant had to endure. “Those sick bastards.”

Colossus roared, gripping the bars and pulling for all he was worth.

“Colossus, stop. Stop!” Cyclops commanded.

Colossus grunted, straining on the adamantium bars.

“Dude, you’re about to give yourself an aneurism. They’re adamantium. You aren’t going to break them.”
Cyclops adjusted his headset. “Wolverine is gone. Looks like a breakout. Storm, I could use an aerial visual and sweep.”

“And I could use a stiff drink. We don’t always get what we want, now do we?”

“Storm,” Cyclops began.

“Oh, lighten up,” she said. “I’m on it. The things I do for you guys.” Storm muttered as she rose high above the tree line. She scowled without realizing it, her generous mouth turned down at the corners. “There’s a lot of activity in the forest. I can’t make out details, but the animals are going nuts, Cyclops.”

“Could be him. Mount up, team. Storm, follow him if you can, but do not engage. We have no idea what his mental state is.”

“Oh, I’d imagine it’s the same as it always is. Crazy.” Storm flew ahead.

Cyclops smirked a bit. “Probably. Marvel Girl, see if you can pick up anyt--”

KA-BOOOOOOOOM!!


*****
Currently

“Here.” Ororo removed her vest, folding it twice. With quick, efficient movements she propped Wolverine’s ankle on it. He grunted, but was otherwise silent. “I’ll look for something to start a fire.” She started to rise but his hand cupped her arm in a firm grip.

“Why did ya really come for me, Storm?”

She jerked her arm away, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll be back.” She made her way towards the cave opening.

“Everything’s soaked. Ya won’t find anything worth burning. ‘Sides, I thought you didn‘t get cold.”

Storm didn’t reply, instead she simply walked from the mouth of the cavern into the pouring rain without looking back.

Wolverine closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the stone wall. He was exhausted, but knew he wouldn’t sleep until she returned safely.

Ororo walked a short distance, lifting thick foliage, searching for dry branches buried beneath. After a short time she had gathered enough for a small fire and she smiled a bit in satisfaction. When she returned to the cave she noticed Wolverine had his face turned and his eyes closed. She assumed he was sleeping, and moved quietly, hoping not to disturb him. She gave his wounded form a cursory once over before settling down to make a fire.

Ororo was wrong. Wolverine wasn’t sleeping. As soon as he heard the distinct sizzle of lightening meeting kindling he opened his eyes half way, his glittering gaze following her every move. She stretched her arms over her head, the black spandex of her uniform top rising to reveal her well toned abdomen. She sighed quietly, cricking her neck and rubbing one hand along its base. She sat beside the small fire wrapping her arms around her drawn up knees and resting her chin atop them, a pensive look on her mud streaked face. Storm turned her head, her eyes resting on him for a moment before she turned back to the flames, a soft sigh passing her full lips.

Wolverine had the absurd wish to be a telepath in that moment. He wanted to know what she had been thinking, what she was thinking now. Ororo was an enigma, a puzzle to him, and to many others, he knew. She had been before he had left the team and she was now. She was one of the few people he could read accurately.

Ororo grimaced as time passed; her clothes were beginning to dry on her, stiff with mud. She glanced back over towards Wolverine, noting that he was still asleep. Even so, she shifted away from him as she tugged her top over her head.

Wolverine raised one thick eyebrow. Her clothes were soaked and caked; it was only natural that she wouldn’t want to wear them. What wasn’t natural was his immediate and strong erection at the sight of her exposed back. Her back for fuck’s sake! He shifted a bit, his cock throbbing almost as badly as his ankle. It was comical. Here he was, shot to shit, broken and half dead on a dirt floor and he had a hard-on from hell.

Ororo turned again, folding her shirt and resuming her previous seated position, her ample breasts pressed into the front of her still clothed thighs. The firelight illuminated her supple curves and Wolverine thought how much that tight top hid from the world. Ororo Munroe had the best tits he had ever seen. Generous and firm, rounded and natural looking. He wondered what her nipples looked like and stifled a groan.

Ororo moved again, running her fingers through the tangled mass of hair on her head, pulling leaves and twigs from the slightly curling thickness. Her hair was as unique as she was, normally, when not caked with layers of mud; it was a thick, luminous fall of snow hanging nearly to her waist. She’d cut it since he’d seen her last, he mulled.

The warmth of the fire enveloped Wolverine and his eyelids grew heavy, Ororo’s simple motions were lulling him. He tried to keep his eyes open but it was futile, he was going under…

Ororo pensively chewed the end off her third fingernail. She gave Wolverine another look. He was still asleep. She should check on him. She started on another fingernail. Why she was so bothered by him was beyond her. She didn’t even like the guy. She sighed, unable to believe Cyclops’s willingness to allow Wolverine back on the team should he choose to join them.

Scott had been through hell. A month of suffering, nearly every bone in his body broken, lying at the bottom of a gorge in the Savage Land, eating his own gloves and insects to survive. Survive a betrayal by a teammate, someone that was supposed to have his back, not stab him in it.

Ororo shot the sleeping man a dark look. Bastard. Why they had bothered to track his worthless ass down… But she knew why. He had been an X-Man, and the X-Men took care of their own.

With a reluctant sigh she pulled her top back over her head and crawled to where Wolverine was propped against the cave wall. She gave him a quick once over, noticing the holes in the formerly white t-shirt he wore, and the dark rust colored stains that decorated it. He was of average height, but the breadth of his massive shoulders made him appear bigger than he was. She let her gaze travel to his face and her mouth went dry. His ebony hair was badly in need of a trim, thick locks falling over his brow, brushing the bridge of his straight nose. She reached out to brush them back from his face before she realized what she was doing. She snatched her hand back as if touching him would burn her.

With a careful eye, she studied his features. His normally burnished sun warmed skin was paler now. His low set brows were furrowed even in sleep, and she wondered if he ever truly relaxed. A thick fringe of lashes rested on slightly hollow cheeks and Ororo noticed how marked his weight loss was since she’d seen him last. Shallow lines bracketed his mouth and creased his forehead. If she didn’t know that he was in fact far, far older, she’d have guessed him to be near thirty.

The firelight played with his sullen mouth like a lover. Ororo cocked her head, watching the shadows. It really was a wonderful mouth, she mused. Firm and well formed, the slant of his jaw tightened it into a sulky pout that was capable of devastating any woman. Ororo wondered what that mouth would look like if he smiled. She leaned forward, momentarily enthralled by her own musings, the tips of her fingers reaching for his lips.

“Sapphires.”

Ororo jerked back, startled by the rough cadence of his voice, her gaze darting up to his wide open steel eyes. She didn’t say a word, not daring to breathe.

“Yer eyes,” he said groggily. “Look like sapphires.”

Ororo sat back on her haunches. “I wanted to make sure you were still alive.” She ignored his comment on the color of her eyes.

Wolverine reached out, his quick hand catching a still damp rope of her hair. He watched her silently as he rubbed the strands between his fingers. It was as soft and as heavy as it looked, he noted. He had never touched her hair before. Hell, he couldn’t remember ever really touching her before. She sat still, like she was waiting for him to strike and that thought brought a cynical tilt to his brooding mouth. “I’m cold,” he lied. He scooted until he lay flat on the ground. “Lay down with me. You need to rest.”

“I’m not tired,” she responded immediately.

“Yer a shitty liar too.” He tugged her hair. “I can smell it on ya, Storm. Yer exhausted.”

She gripped her hair, trying to wrest it from his firm grasp.
“Ya’ve got nothin’ ta worry about, darlin’. I’m harmless right now.”

“Wolverine, I doubt you can ever be considered harmless,” she said flatly.

He snatched her wrist with his other hand, pulling her towards him. “I’m cold.” he insisted. “Body heat will prevent shock. Ya can’t be that heartless.”

Ororo frowned. What if he really was going into shock? She surrendered, slowly stretching alongside him. Wolverine slipped his arm beneath her shoulders, his embrace casual. After a few minutes with no movement from him, Ororo relaxed a bit, the events and effort of the night catching up to her and she felt lethargy seeping into her.

Wolverine felt her body relax, her breathing even out and he turned slightly to study her. He frowned faintly when he looked at her. It was like he was looking at her for the very first time. When had she become so unbelievably gorgeous? And that she was. Not the Barbie doll pretty of the buxom blondes he’d had, or the slender woman-child beautiful of Jean, but gorgeous. Breathtaking and mind-numbing.

Her skin was a flawlessly smooth combination of caramel and cinnamon. Her now closed eyes were, as he had just noticed, the colors of the purest sapphires, deep and true. He had been entranced by their seemingly endless depths. She had a slender nose, slightly turned up at the tip, and fine cheekbones. But it was her mouth that caught his hungry gaze and held it. Full to the point of being obscene, her lush lips begged to be kissed. Wide and full and slightly parted in sleep, revealing the perfect pearls sheltered within. She was exquisite.

He pulled his arm from under her and propped himself up on his elbow. His head was bent over hers before he himself recognized his intentions, and he touched his cracked lips to her wonderful mouth. He brushed against her lightly, almost tenderly, with each pass slightly deepening the pressure, melding his mouth to hers as if it was meant to be there.

Ororo sighed in her sleep, opening her lips under his. Wolverine cupped her chin, his thumb tugging her lips apart further, smothering her small moan with the swift invasion of his tongue. His hand tightened reflexively on her jaw as pleasure washed through him, more excruciating than the pain he had just endured. His tongue swept across her teeth and deeper still, tasting her, and being sure to drink his fill. He kissed her until he couldn’t say where one kiss ended and another began.

With a growl he ran one hand over her torso, cupping one perfect globe through the stiff fabric of her uniform top, teasing her nipple into an aching peak.

Ororo moaned, her eyes slowly blinking open, reluctant to wake from her dream. She sighed, momentarily unaware of what was causing her hazy pleasure. She focused sharply and turned her head away from his, shoving at his chest. “Stop it!” she snapped.

Wolverine smirked, his mouth touching her cheek as his fingers swirled against the tip of her nipple. “Ya don’t mean that. I can smell it on ya. You want me.”

Ororo punched him in the face. Although from the flat of her back and their awkward angle it was an ineffectual blow, it got her point across. “I mean it.”

Wolverine rubbed his jaw. “Ya hit like a girl.”

Ororo glared at him. “Move away from me.”

Wolverine caught the scent of ozone. The air fairly crackled with it. He rolled away from her, adjusting his tattered pants against the bulge there. “Happy now?” he grumbled.

No. Ororo barely bit back the reply. She staggered to her feet, moving to the opposite side of the cavern. She ran her hands over her front, smoothing away his touch.

Wolverine watched the motion and glowered at her. A tingle against his foot caught his attention. “Yer vest is vibrating.”

Ororo went to his side immediately, jerking the vest from beneath his foot.

Wolverine grunted. Good thing he was mostly healed. That would’ve hurt like hell otherwise. Bitch.

Reaching into the side pocket Ororo pulled out her communicator. “Cyclops?” she asked.

Static crackled, then, “Storm?… Hallelujah …Troops…took ’em out…injured… Where are…?”

“Cyclops, I can barely make you out.”

“Location?” he came back clearer.

“Waterfall. About four miles south, south west of the outpost.”

“We’re on our way…Wolverine…?”

Ororo glanced over at the man in question. “Alive.” She shut the comm. off, shoving it back in the vest before sliding it on and snapping it in the front.

Wolverine watched her calm efficient movements and he had the urge to bare his teeth at her. How could she just brush off what happened, while he lay on the floor, his body still rock hard and raging.

“Professor X wants you back on the team.” Ororo said making a show of adjusting her vest. “We are to extend the offer to you.” She was relatively confident that he would refuse the offer, after all if he had wanted to be an X-Man, he would still be there. She had said as much before they had left for the Amazon to rescue him.

Wolverine cocked a brow. “Ya want me back, eh?”

“Xavier does. Personally I hope you decline and then find the nearest short pier and take a long walk.” She created a small rain cloud over their fading fire. The flames went out with a momentary hiss of complaint and a billow of gray-white smoke.

Wolverine rose slowly, his dark gaze not leaving hers. “I guess this means the honeymoon’s over,” he commented as he heard the scream of the Blackbird closing in on them.

Ororo grimaced. “Time with you is more like purgatory, Wolverine.”

He flashed his teeth. “Well, get ready fer some hell, little girl. I’ll be takin’ Ol’ Chuckie up on his offer. So, come on, Sugarplum, get yer panties outta their bind and let’s get ourselves back ta New York.” He strode from the cave, his arrogant swagger taunting her.

Ororo watched his back angrily as she slowly counted to ten, then fifteen, then twenty. “Asshole.”

From his short distance away Wolverine sent her a feral smile, telling her that he heard her muttered comment.

The Black Bird, the X-Men’s primary jet, hovered in the sky overhead, unable to land near the waterfall. The side hatch hissed open. “Well, where’s the damn ladder?” Wolverine mumbled.

“We don’t need one,” Ororo said quietly, her eyes glowing faintly. Summoned by their mistress the winds increased, lifting both Storm and Wolverine from the ground.

“Christ!” Wolverine’s claws popped in automatic response.

“Relax.”

“I ain’t much fer flyin’.” he grumbled. A gentle swell of wind sent him through the open hatch. “That’s a new trick,” he commented.

Storm lowered herself to the jet floor, closing the hatch behind her. “We’re in, Scott.”

Wolverine gave his surroundings an instinctive perusal. A small table lay under a large silver lamp, two harnessed seats were directly to his left and cabinets of medical supplies lined the walls.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” Wolverine’s brows rose.

Storm gave a small huff. “Your shirt. Remove it so I can take a look at your wounds.”

“Where’s Jeannie? Ain’t this her thing?”

Ororo straightened to her full height, her blue eyes snapping. “Marvel Girl is up front, co-piloting the plane, with her boyfriend, but if you would prefer someone else, Kurt Wagner is an excellent medic. I’ll get him.”

Wolverine snagged her arm as she tried to maneuver her way around him. “You’ll do.”

Ororo narrowed her eyes. “Shirt. Off.”

Suddenly Wolverine’s eyes took on an entirely different gleam than before. “I’ve never been one to refuse a lady.”

A short derisive snort was Ororo’s only response to his statement. She turned away from him quickly, her breath catching when she realized Wolverine had torn the remnants of his tee from his body. Taking a deep, steadying breath she turned to face him, her composure once again placid. She instructed him to lift his arms so that she could see the full extent of his injuries.

Wolverine sucked in a breath while her slender, strong fingertips probed around his almost healed wounds. “We should clean these out.” She leaned past him, her shoulder brushing his chin and on impulse he leaned forward, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

Oblivious to his sniffing, Ororo moved with practiced efficiency. A quick jerk opened one of the drawers behind Wolverine revealing a clear bottle of alcohol, tape and gauze strips. “Some of these look pretty bad.” She pulled on the purple medical gloves and laid out her supplies.

Wolverine sat back, caught off guard by her voice. He glanced down at his chest and shrugged. “Been through worse.”

Storm shook her head, unable to imagine living with such horrific acts done to her. She immediately quelled the surge of sympathy she felt towards her former teammate. Xavier had offered him a home and made him part of a team, and how did Wolverine repay them? By tossing one of their own off of a sheer cliff. Whatever horrors had been done to him, there came a time for him to accept responsibility for himself.

“Easy there, darlin’.” Wolverine jerked against the alcohol soaked pad Ororo placed over one of his still open wounds. “Leave ‘em. They’ll heal.”

With a snap, Ororo removed her gloves, tossing them into the receptacle. “Fine.”

Wolverine snatched her wrist, his thumb skimming the pulse at the base. “What’s yer issue with me, princess?”

Ororo met his stare coldly. “I don’t trust you.” She yanked her hand away and walked through the sliding door that led to the cockpit.

Smart girl. Wolverine smirked, his eyes glinting silver.

Xavier Institute

The east library was quiet save for the crackle of flames against popping logs. Wolverine stood in the center of the grandiose room, impatiently waiting for Xavier. He studied his surroundings, the inlaid marble floor, the gilded mantle over the fireplace, the paintings lining the walls. The room screamed opulence. He shook his head. How in the hell had he ended up here? He didn’t belong here. He never would.

When he had arrived at the Institute, it had been under false pretenses. His mission was simple. Infiltrate, recon, assassinate. However, once inside the X-Men’s home, Wolverine had found himself listening to Xavier, and wanting to be a part of the telepath’s dream of a united world. Not to mention his deep and abiding attraction to a certain redhead. In the end, his attraction for Jean had caused him to do a regrettable deed.

Wolverine chuffed softly. Not like he could change it now. Slowly he made his way towards the fireplace, leaning against the wall. Throwing Cyclops from a cliff had been an impromptu decision. Opportunity had reared it’s head, and Wolverine had pounced.

The tall, engraved double doors swung inward, pulling Wolverine away from his inner reflections, and Professor Charles Xavier wheeled himself into the large room. The bald headmaster of Xavier’s Institute of Higher Learning looked every inch an educator with his gentle features. He paused midway into the room, watching Wolverine carefully, studiously, almost as though he expected some reaction from him.

Wolverine remained positioned where he was, leaning beside the mantle on one shoulder, his left hand in the denim pocket of newly adorned jeans, a look of bored indifference on his shadowed face.

“Wolverine.” Xavier greeted. He rolled forwards until he sat directly in front of the small fire, which was where his deep gaze rested, watching the dancing orange flames as though fascinated by them. He spoke without looking at Wolverine. “Welcome back, Logan.”

Wolverine grunted in acknowledgement.

“I must admit to a certain amount of surprise at your easy agreement to rejoin the X-Men.”

“Hnh.”

“Care to share the reason behind it?”

“Care ta share why the hell ya want me back here after I nearly off’d yer pencil necked squad leader?”

Xavier‘s mouth twitched. “Truth is, bringing you back was Scott’s idea.”

This surprised Logan, but he hid it well. “Scooter a masochist?” he grumbled.

“Hardly.” Finally Xavier turned his deep hazel eyes on Wolverine. “He’s a leader. Being such is not something he takes lightly or without responsibility. Scott joined my cause to help those he thought needed it, not for his own personal benefit. As he pointed out, perhaps you need this place more than anyone.”

Wolverine repositioned himself against the mantle so that the flat of his back pressed the warm bricks. He crossed his arms in front of him, the seemingly permanent scowl on his face deepening. “Somehow I ain’t buyin’ that’s yer angle, Chuck.”

Charles Xavier, addressed by his students and X-Men as either Professor or Professor X, let Wolverine’s lack of formality slide. “Make no mistake, Wolverine. I much prefer the idea of the world’s deadliest mutant fighting alongside my X-men as opposed to against them.”

Wolverine gave his all too familiar grunted response.
Xavier inclined his head, his stare speculative. “You have yet to answer my question.”

Wolverine flashed a dark look at Xavier. “This place amuses me,” he provided.

“Hmm. I think it is more than that.”

“Does it really matter? I’m here.”

“True enough. But for how long?”

Logan shrugged, a barely perceptible shift of his powerful frame. “As long as it suits me.” After a pause he asked. “How’d you guys find me?”

“General Fury.” Xavier supplied without hesitation. “He called and informed me that he had sent you to the jungle on assignment but had lost contact with you. Since it was an unauthorized job he couldn’t very well send his own soldiers to retrieve you.”

Fury, a longtime contact and soldier was one of the few people Wolverine respected enough to work for. “Hnh.”

Charles rolled away from the fire. “You are welcome here for however long you wish, Wolverine. There is, of course, the condition you don’t try to kill any more of my students.” A small smile hinted at the humor behind Xavier’s statement.

Wolverine nodded. “I won’t try again. Next time I’ll make damn sure they’re good and dead.”

“Wolverine--”

“Relax, Chuck. I ain’t gonna gut pretty boy or anyone else. I didn’t come back fer that.” A slight scratching sound caught his attention and Logan’s gaze moved to the closed doors. His lip curled.

Professor Xavier sent a small telekinetic push and the door opened slightly. There was a meow as a rust colored cat darted through the semi-open library doors, landing on Xavier’s lap, hissing at Wolverine.

Wolverine raised one brow. “Well, there’s one reason I came back,” he muttered.

Charles gave Wolverine’s back a questioning look as he strode towards the door.

“The cat?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Wolverine shook his head. “Pussy, Chuck. Pussy.” Wolverine closed the door behind him, amused by Xavier’s disbelieving expression.


Rec Room

“I can’t believe he’s back,” Kitty Pryde exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than normal. “I mean, he tried to kill-- KILL-- Cyclops.” She threw herself onto the brown leather couch that sat in the back of the room near the big screen television and pinball machines. Her chestnut curls bounced with the motion.

“No one has forgotten that, Katya,” Colossus said with a frown. “But obviously both Scott and the Professor find him redeemable.”

“I for one think the guy was kinda hot,” Ali stated with a smirk. She clicked the silver stud in her tongue against her front teeth absently. She folded her slender tattooed arms behind her head and sighed. “Definitely doable.”

Kitty rolled her brown eyes. “Who wouldn’t you do?”

Ali lifted her middle finger. “I wouldn’t touch you.”

“Thank heaven for small miracles.” Kitty shot back.

Bobby Drake entered the room, sipping a coke. He inclined his blond head at the two glowering females. “Cat fight?” he asked Peter.

“Fuck off, Frosty Freeze.” Ali snapped.

“Yup. Cat fight.” He kept walking.

“C’mon, Petey. You agree with me. Short, dark and hairy has got some major sex appeal,” Ali continued.

Peter ran one large hand along the back of his neck, shrugging one massive shoulder. “I am not one to judge.”

“Riiight.” Ali sat up, leaning one elbow on her combat fatigue clad leg, slapping Peter’s thigh with her other hand. “Like you don’t check out the buffet around here. See who’s packin’ sausage and who’s got the foot long.”

“I don’t care to continue this conversation.” He was red faced.

“You are not quite right in the head, are you?’ Kitty said to Ali with a snort.

“Piss off, Spaz. The grown ups are talking.”

*X-Men. I require your presence in the conference room.*

Colossus rose quickly, heading for the door at a near run.

Ali stood and stretched, her white tank riding up as she did, revealing the Celtic tattoo circling her navel and the skull and cross bones belly button ring she wore.

“Is there any part of you that’s not pierced or marked?” Kitty asked, unabashedly curious.

Ali shot her a grin. “Nope.”


Conference Room

There was the dull, muted echo of a dozen small conversations taking place at the same time when Wolverine stepped through the hydraulic powered sliding door. Most of them ceased upon his arrival. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room, but met each stare of those brave enough to momentarily meet his steel gray eyes. There were several new faces at the table and he groaned inwardly. Newbies. Fuckin’ swell.

Cyclops approached him. “You look recovered,” he said neutrally.

Wolverine gave him a cold once over. “What’s the deal, Scooter? Chuck tells me bringing me back was yer idea.”

Scott nodded, the ruby of his visor winking under the overhead lights. “The team needs someone like you.”

Wolverine cocked a brow. “Someone like me?”

Scott’s mouth was a grim line. “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.

“How’s Jeannie?” Wolverine asked deliberately, scanning the room for his former playmate.

At the mention of the beautiful redhead Cyclops stiffened, his tall frame tense. “She’s fine. I‘m sure you two will cross paths.”

“Hunh.” Wolverine shouldered past Scott. As he made his way to the long table in the center of the large room, two slim legs dangled in front of him from the ceiling. He paused in his trek as Katherine Pryde dropped through the ceiling above to the floor.

At the sight of the glowering man in front of her Kitty skidded back, her hand going to her throat as she gasped, “Wolverine.”

“Shadowcat.”

She moved hastily away from him, watching him warily. She had been with him and Scott on the mission to the Savage Land, having stowed away in the jet. A part of her still felt guilty for leaving Cyclops alone with Wolverine, hanging from the sheer side of a cliff, but she had gone back to the Blackbird for rope, only to be joined moments later by Wolverine, claiming Scott had slipped from his hands and fallen to his death. The fact that he had let Scott purposefully fall wasn’t revealed until months later when Cyclops had shown up on the Institutes front steps and blasted Wolverine through three walls on sight.

None of the X-Men had ever seen their stoic leader unleash a blast like that and they had all stared in dumbfounded shock. Jean had stood stock still, her large green eyes disbelieving and her mouth trembling. “Scott…“ she had whispered.

Scott had only snarled four words as he passed her and mounted the stairs. “I want him gone.”

Wolverine had left as soon as he was conscious and no one had tried to stop him. His betrayal had come as a complete shock, though it probably shouldn’t have, and it was painful for those that had begun to accept the feral mutant into their lives. Seeing him now brought that hurt back to Kitty and she didn’t want to be near him.

Wolverine didn’t seem bothered by the distrust, in fact he seemed rather comfortable with it. He pulled out one of the cushioned chairs and sat, propping his booted feet on the table. He listened to the whispers, his superior hearing picking up even the faintest undertone.

“…Killer…”

“Six Claws…from his hands…”

“Cyclops…Jean…jealous.”

“He’s scary…”

“…Sexy.” That one caught him by surprise.

“I think he can hear…”

“Shh…”

“Anyone seen Storm?” This caught his attention. For the first time since walking through the sliding door he took in the entire room and realized that indeed the white haired witch wasn’t among those present. He should’ve known immediately, her unique and fresh scent was nowhere in the stuffy room. Instead there was the cloying scent of several perfumes and colognes mixing with body odor and perspiration. He tilted his head, listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, I saw her earlier. She was in the garden.”

“Well, where is she now?” That was Scooter. “The meetings about to start.”

A familiar soft feminine voice answered. “Where do you think?”

Jeannie. Wolverine sat up in his chair, his eyes narrowing on his target.

Jean Grey. She was as beautiful as he remembered, maybe more so now that her shining red tresses were longer, brushing against her shoulders. She was standing besides Cyclops, her pale hand on his uniform clad shoulder, her porcelain face turned up towards his, her soft pink lips parted.

Wolverine frowned a bit. Where was the familiar kick in his gut? The flickering of desire he’d always felt for her? All he felt now was a mild interest in her looks. She was attractive, sure. Beautiful even. But not gorgeous. Not like--

“Good morning, X-Men.” Xavier rolled through the door at the rear of the room, the one adjacent to his office.

The others took their seats along the table, most of them careful to avoid sitting beside Wolverine. Colossus took the seat on his left, a welcoming smile on the handsome Russian’s face.

“It is good that you are back, Logan.” Colossus clapped one large hand on Wolverine’s back. “You were sorely missed.”

“Don’t get all flowery on me, big man. I just may blush,” Wolverine said with a smirk.

A woman with dark spiked hair that he didn’t recognize took the seat to his right. She leaned towards him with avid interest, her light blue-green eyes searching his face.
He met her gaze and she blinked, a bit caught off guard by his direct stare. A slow smile appeared on her face. “You’re intense,” she said, a little huskily.

Wolverine leaned forward until their lips were almost touching, his eyes never leaving hers. “You have no idea,” he growled, a low rumble from his chest.

Alison grinned. “Wanna show me?”

Wolverine cocked his head. “I’d break ya.”

Ali laughed throatily, undaunted. “If skinny Jean can take you, I have no doubts I could.”

“Hm.” He bared his teeth. “I doubt it.”

“I’m Alison.”

“Ahem.” Xavier cleared his throat.

“Party pooper,” Ali muttered. She winked at Wolverine, then reclined against her seat, waiting for the Professor to begin.

Charles took in the room, noticing the seat on his left was empty. He sent out a mental call, and frowned as it was purposefully ignored. After a repeated attempt he sighed. “Kurt, if you would be so kind as to fetch Ororo.”

“Ja. Where is she?” A blue furred mutant rose, another Wolverine didn’t recognize. He was well built, Wolverine noticed, muscular and lean. He carried himself with a confidence in his movements, a natural grace. With proper training, that one could be a helluva a fighter, Logan thought.

Xavier’s gaze was somber as he responded to the young man. “With Hank.”

Wolverine watched the exchange with sudden interest. So Ororo and Big Blue had finally hooked up? Logan had thought Henry McCoy had a thing for Storm back before he’d left the team, but nothing had seemed to come of it.

Apparently things were different now, and he was surprised by the brief flash of anger that he felt. What the fuck did he care if Beast was stickin’ it to Storm? Wasn’t any of his damn business. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his dark scowl darkening even further as he thought about Ororo with Beast.


Cemetery

Ororo carefully laid the bundle of flowers she had in her hand against the gray marble of Hank’s tombstone. She had picked them earlier, arranging them just so, and making certain the scent they created together was appealing. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she bent forward, absently sweeping aside the dried leaves resting on the headstone. She traced the engraved name with her fingertips.

“Oh, Henry. I miss you so much,” she whispered. “I picked you some flowers today. I know, I know, flowers are such a girlie thing, but…” She sighed, trailing off. She seated herself so that her back rested on the cool slab. A light breeze picked up several silvery white strands of her hair, lifting them against her cheek and for just a moment she allowed herself to believe it was Hank touching her face. Her throat tightened painfully and she blinked back her tears, the sky already darkening in her sadness.

“Wolverine’s back,” she said at last.

The rustle of leaves in the wind was the only response to that statement.

“We went to the jungle to get him. The patterns in the air down there were beyond beautiful,” she continued. “Like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was very dangerous to use my powers, though. So much climate to play with and manipulate. I could have lost myself in the storms down there. But I did what you suggested and stayed focused, and thankfully we made it out alive… I’m sorry,” she took a deep breath. “I’m trying, Henry. I’m trying so hard not to hate you right now.” She pressed her hand to her eyes. “I feel so alone now, Blue. I can’t…can’t believe you left me like that. Damn you. You never even listened to me…”

The winds around the Institute began to increase in response to Ororo’s mood. She let the weather wash over her, enjoying the rush of the wind and the first splashes of rain against her face.

*BAMF*

“Guten tag, Ororo.”

She didn’t open her eyes. “Hello, Nightcrawler.”

Kurt Wagner glanced at the swirling clouds over head, noting their dark color and rapid spin. “Your presence is required in the conference room,” he said gently.

“No, it’s not.”

“Uhh, ja. I believe the Professor would like very much for you to be there.”

“He’ll deal.”

Kurt sighed. “Ororo. This is not healthy,” he said at last, saying what no one else had dared say. Everyone at the institute had noticed her frequent visits to the cemetery. In fact, when Hank had first been buried there had been several occasions when Ororo had been found asleep atop his grave. It was a disturbing habit she had developed, and was unnerving to her teammates.

She opened glacier eyes. “Mind your own business, Nightcrawler.”

“You are my friend, Storm. That makes you my business.” he said, undaunted. “Hank’s death was not your fault.”

Ororo’s ice blue eyes faded and two glowing white orbs glared up at the handsome German. Thunder rumbled overhead, the sound echoing across the cemetery. “Leave me alone.”

Kurt’s own eyes glowed yellow. “Nein. I was sent to bring you back to the mansion.”

Lightening arced from cloud to cloud.

Nightcrawler remained undaunted, his gentle smile unchanging. “You won’t hurt me, Storm. I’m your friend.” Kurt held out one three fingered hand to her and Ororo felt her anger melting away. He was her friend, and she would not hurt him, she’d never hurt another friend again. She took his hand.

“Very good, leibling.” Kurt’s smile broadened, his teeth very white next to his dark blue fur. “Is this where I am to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Don’t push it,” Ororo said with a half smile. She gave Hank’s headstone one last look before Kurt teleported her to the mansion.

*BAMF*

“Nice of you to join us, Ororo.” Xavier greeted, his tone neutral.

Ororo nodded her head, but said nothing. She took the empty seat to Xavier’s left and immediately felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She tipped her face, her eyes going down the long table to rest on the man at the end, his self assured smirk making her grit her teeth.

Wolverine watched Ororo through semi-hooded eyes. Her blue gaze was turned on him and his muscles tensed. She always looked like she could see right through him. Her blue eyes cutting through his bullshit layers and seeing him for what he was. It was not a pleasant feeling.
Unconsciously his lip curled at her, flashing his canines.

She turned away from him, disinterested, returning her full attention to Xavier.

“The document that is being sent down the table is a rough draft of a proposed Mutant Registration and Containment Act proposed in the Senate last week.” The Professor waited until everyone had a copy in front of them. “The law is pending decision and revision. However, in the mean time, the Sentinel program has been reactivated as well as a mutant task force. The standing orders now are to prevent mutant activity by any means necessary, as well as the retrieval of information, with the same standard.”

“Being a mutant is no longer just a bad stigma? Now it’s a crime?” Jean asked, more than a bit incredulous as she read the paper in front of her. “Professor, they can’t be serious. I thought after your recent meetings with the president things would improve.”

“As did I, Marvel Girl.” Xavier said. “Apparently there are bigger forces at work than I had foreseen. All this means for us, my X-Men, is that we must fight that much harder for the dream.”

“Why bother?” Ali tossed her copy of the proposed bill onto the table with an angry flick of her wrist. “They hate us. That obviously ain’t gonna change.”

“Our dream has become a goal, and it became such the moment we took action to follow the path of homo-sapiens and homo-superior coexistence,” Xavier admonished. “We can not give up simply because an obstacle blocks the path.”

Ororo leaned forward in her chair. “Somehow a bunch of sanctimonious wackos have managed to legalize the torture of mutants, and you still want to prattle on about living in harmony with these bozos? Forgive me for saying so, Professor, but sometimes I just get tired of all the verbal diarrhea around here. It’d be nice if everyone just shut the hell up and did something.” With that she slid her chair back and got to her feet.

“I have not excused you, Storm,” the Professor stated.

She arched one frosty brow. “I didn’t ask for your permission.” She moved away from the table.

“Storm--!” Cyclops called after her.

*Let her go, Scott.* Xavier sent. *She needs some space.*

Wolverine watched Ororo walk past, his eyes narrowed in speculation. She had changed in the months he’d been away. Ororo had always been street smart and a wise guy, but there was an edge to her now that hadn’t been there before. He wondered briefly what had happened. Did her new boyfriend have anything to do with it? And where the hell was the Blue-Boy anyways?

“The second item I want to address today is a much more personal one. We have begun expansion of the training facility based on the designs and work started by Beast. I need volunteers for labor and testing.” He paused, his gaze resting on Wolverine. “It could be dangerous.”

Wolverine cocked his head. “Dangerous? I‘m in.”

“And me as well,” Colossus added.

A few others volunteered and Xavier nodded. “That will be all, X-Men. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” There was a general commotion as everyone got up to leave.

Wolverine remained seated, casually watching the others pass, taking stock of each person. Calculating.

“They find it unnerving when you do that,” Xavier said as the last of the students filed from the room.

Wolverine shrugged. “Don’t much care. So when do we get started on the dangerous exercises?”

“The Danger Room modifications are being implemented as we speak, and the facility should be completed in a week. Testing will commence then. In the mean time you are always welcome to help with the manual labor.”

Wolverine nodded. Working with his hands was something he enjoyed, one of the few things that gave him a sense of pride.

“If you wish to help with the building, speak with Storm. She is overseeing the operation.”

Wolverine scoffed. “Miss prissy attitude is overseeing construction?”

“This is her project. I‘m sure she would appreciate any help you can provide.”

“Hnh.”

“Once again, welcome back, Wolverine.” With that Xavier rolled himself from the room and back into his office.


Backyard Construction Site

Wolverine cricked his neck, giving a satisfied grunt as the bones popped. He had changed into a white muscle shirt and a pair of faded jeans and boots. He adjusted his beaten cowboy hat and scanned the worksite for Ororo. He spotted her leaning over a small table, blueprints laid out in front of her, her head bent in concentration. He took the moment to study her in the sunlight.

She had changed as well, no longer in her uniform, instead in a pair of denim cutoffs, with a Harley Davidson tank and Redwing boots, her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was currently dangling across her shoulder. She was gnawing her full bottom lip pensively. She had great skin, he thought, enjoying the way it shimmered in the sunlight, a fine hint of perspiration giving her a healthy glow. She tensed and slowly her head came up, her vivid blue eyes locking on him.

He made his way towards her. “Chuck told me ya could use an extra pair of hands.”

She studied him for a moment, then, “Grab a hammer, make yourself useful.”

He smirked. “Anywhere in particular?”

She sighed. “I don’t know.” she sounded frustrated.

“What’s the trouble, darlin’?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ok. What’s the trouble, princess?”

She glowered at him.

“Ya never had a problem with me callin’ ya darlin’ before.”

She returned her gaze to the blueprints. “I‘ve changed.”

Wolverine leaned over the opposite side of the work table. “Yeah, I noticed.”

There was a subtle shift in his graveled voice that sent chills racing along Ororo’s spine. She leaned away from the table. “Are you here to help, or antagonize me?”

He grinned; a devilish tilt of his wonderfully sexy mouth. “Both.” he answered honestly.

Ororo didn’t appear amused. “Well, so far you’re succeeding in one area.”

Movement out of Wolverine’s eye caught his attention, a scant second before a cry of warning went up. The scaffolding had been knocked by a beam and was falling.

“Hit the dirt!” Wolverine dove, pulling Storm underneath him and rolling them under the table. The scaffolding crashed around them, bending the sturdy work table, but not crushing it. Dust and debris flew in the air.

Ororo was breathing heavy, but not from the near miss. She tried in vain to calm her racing heart and ignore the welcome weight of the man on top of her. Wolverine’s face was mere inches away, his hot breath teasing her parted lips, one arm was bracing his weight, the other curved around her back.

“Damn,” he growled, his head lowering.

Ororo was lost the moment his mouth touched hers. Heat and desire flooded her body and she was helpless to stop it. She didn’t want to feel this. Not for him. She turned her head away, but that only gave him access to the vulnerable line of her neck, which he took full advantage of. She gasped when she felt his moist lips on her skin, and she shivered when his tongue licked along her pulse. Goddess, give her strength…

“You guys okay?” A Russian voice called. Ororo nearly laughed with relief.

The scaffolding creaked and Ororo caught a glimmer of silver. Peter. The table was lifted off of them and Wolverine helped her to her feet, his gray eyes nearly black and his heated gaze telling her she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“We’re fine.” Ororo said.

“Of course you are fine. Wolverine was there to protect you,” Colossus said with a grin.

Ororo rolled her eyes. “Y’know, Peter. That hero worship thing is grating on my nerves. I can take care of myself.”

Wolverine winked at her.

“And you,” she turned on him. “Wipe that cocky smile off your face and get to work. Peter can show you where you are needed.” She brushed dust from her cutoffs, walking away.

Wolverine watched her walk away, not unappreciative of the gentle sway of her hips or her well formed backside. Once she was out of sight he looked at the massive construction going on. “So this is gonna be the new danger room?”

Colossus nodded. “Yes.”

“Pretty big project.”

“Yes, but it holds a lot of meaning. Especially to Ororo.”

Wolverine glanced at the larger man, pulling out a damaged cigar and lighting it. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“This is to be Hank’s memorial.”

Wolverine paused mid-puff. “Beast is dead?”

“Yeah. Killed by the Brotherhood.” Colossus’s voice became thick with emotion and rage. “They beat him to death in a dirty alleyway in the city.”

Wolverine swore. “When the fuck did this happen?”
“Two months ago.”

“Why?”

“No one is certain exactly. All that is known is that Beast left the Institute to meet with an internet flame and she turned out to be the Blob. It would be comically ironic, if not so tragic.” Colossus shook in anger. “I’ll never forget that night. Not as long as I live.”

“You find him?”

Colossus shook his head. “No. Storm did. Never have I seen such grief. It took both the Professor and Jean to stop her.”

Wolverine pushed the cigar to the opposite side of his mouth. “Stop her?”

“Yes. She raged, and so did the earth.”

Wolverine thought about that for a moment. “They were a couple?”

“Nyet. Although Henry clearly wanted to be. All he said to me on one occasion about the situation was that she had feelings for someone else. It never came up again. It was shortly after that conversation that Henry was murdered.”



“Me again.” Ororo sat cross legged on the grass. She plucked several blades absently. “Mind if I nap with you today?” She curled up on the ground, her head resting on the curve of one arm, the other touching gray marble. Slowly she allowed the steady beat of her heart to lull her to sleep.

~Hey.~

~Hey.~ Ororo glanced up at the man in front of her.

Henry McCoy lowered his large blue furred frame beside her. ~You sure you want to rehash this now?~

~I’m sure.~

~All right.~

*****

Two months ago…

Henry McCoy could never be accused of being a ladies man. Never be misconstrued as a ‘player’ of any sort. He was a large man, covered in thick blue fur courtesy of a life saving operation, and had feet the size of Texas. His voice was a deep, rich baritone that Ororo found tremendously pleasing to listen to. She was listening to him now. “What are you reading?” he asked.

Ororo lifted the book, revealing the picture on the cover; a long haired, bare chested man on a horse. “Smut.”

Hank laughed. “Enjoyable?”

“Yes.” Ororo shifted so that she was leaning against him. He placed one hand alongside her thigh, cuddling close to her.

“What are you doing out? I figured you’d be tinkering with the new vehicles Professor X had shipped in.” she asked.

“As tempting as that is, you are far more appealing, my dear.”

Ororo chuckled. “That’s sweet.” As usual, their conversation was easy and natural, speaking of classes and events, of training and other students. They shared a couple of off color jokes and teasing comments.

“Uh, Ororo…” Hank began after a moment of comfortable silence.

Ororo tilted her head. “Yes, Henry?”

Hank lowered his head, his lips touching hers softly. For a moment Ororo was too stunned to move, then she bashfully turned her head away. “Henry…You‘re my best friend and I value that--”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

She looked confused. “Him?”

“Wolverine.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Wolverine. You want him. I saw the way you used tolook at him. The way you would follow him with your eyes.”

“Henry are you insane?” Ororo demanded. “If I followed him with my eyes it’s because of self preservation instinct. Never turn your back on a predator. The guy’s a loose cannon and murderer. For crying out loud he tried to kill Cyclops.”

Henry had moved away from her. “And yet you still want him. More than you want me. I thought that since he was gone, that maybe, just maybe you‘d be open to--to me.”

“Henry, you’re not making any sense. You and I are friends. Where is this coming from?” She reached her hand towards his face.

He caught her wrist, his grip mildly painful. “I find it tremendously difficult to believe that you had no inclination as to my feelings for you.”

“We’re best friends,” she said softly.

Henry gave her a frustrated look. “Friends is not all I want to be with you, Ororo.”

The world as she had known it had changed in that instant. Her best friend was no longer her best friend, because he wanted more than she knew she could give him. Ororo had felt terrible, not wanting to hurt him, but needing him to understand that that was all they were ever going to be.

“Henry. I care about you very much-”

“Spare me the ‘friends’ speech, Ororo.” He rose to his feet, his hulky form surprisingly graceful. “I get it. You’re the street thief, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and no one but king of the bad-asses will do for you.”

Ororo had shaken her head in mute denial. “It’s not like that,” she protested. “I don’t want anyone else. Especially not some wack-job freak like Wolverine.”

Hank had laughed, short and humorless. “You know, I almost think you believe that.” He turned away from her, his strides long and purposeful.

“Henry!” Ororo stood, calling after him. “Henry, please, wait!”

*****

~You left that night, Henry. To go meet your internet girlfriend.~ Ororo wiped tears from her cheeks angrily. She clenched her jaw so tight her teeth creaked. ~Only it was a trap. You big, blue idiot. A trap. The Brotherhood.~ She leaned her head forward, her cloud colored hair floating on the imaginary breeze. She would never forget that night, not for as long as she lived. She could still hear the frantic command from Xavier that the X-Men go into the city, where Henry lay in a dark and dank alley way. Beaten to a bloody pulp by the Brotherhood. She could still smell the blood and urine and the sickening sweet smell of garbage. She had been the first to arrive on the scene and she had nearly lost all control right then. Hank had been semi-conscious, blood pooling around his still body. He was beaten so bad she could barely make out his face.

*****
Two months ago...

“…Ororo…”

“I’m here, Henry.” She had cradled his head in her lap, smoothing his hair, trying not to hurt him. “Don’t move, sweetie. The others are on their way.”

“Too late…liver is punctured…another…few minutes…”
“Ssshhh.” Ororo had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a fighter. You’ve beaten the odds before.”

“so sorry…I made…an ass…”

“Sh. Henry please, save your energy.” She had been shaking so bad the words almost didn’t come out.

“Have to…” His chest rattled and blood trickled from between his lips. “So sorry…I love you…could..you..could you have…loved me..?” His eyes had glazed in that moment, death taking him from her before she could answer.

“NNNNNOOOOOOOO!!!” The sky had split open and the earth itself had heaved. Ororo’s eyes glowed angry white and she screamed her throat bloody. Only the Professor’s and Jean’s combined efforts had shut her down and prevented the worst natural disaster in history from hitting the east coast.


*****

~I did love you.~ Henry said quietly.

Ororo looked up, her eyes spilling silver tears. ~I know.~

Hank brushed his finger against her cheek. ~You deserve to be happy, Ororo.~

~I killed you.~

~Is that what you think?~ Henry sighed. Of course that’s what she thought. ~Storm, you aren’t responsible for my actions.~

~But if I had told you…~

~You mean if you had lied?~

~It wouldn’t be a lie, Henry. I do love you.~

~I know.~ He caressed her cheek. ~But not as I wanted you to.~

~I’m so sorry, Henry.~

~Don’t be. I’m not.~

~But you’re dead.~

~Hm. Yeah, that part sucks.~

Ororo gave a choked laugh. ~I miss you.~

~And I you, little Wind-rider.~

~Is this real?~

~No. Just a guilt reaction from your psyche in response to your feelings for Wolverine.~

~Figures.~

~Be happy, Ororo. It’s what I would want for you. Stop mourning me and live. Live life to the fullest, because if you aren’t going to live life to it’s full extent, then what’s the point in having lived it?~

~I’ll be back tomorrow.~

~I know.~

Ororo sat up slowly, yawning. The sun was setting behind the Institute. She stretched her arms over her head, glancing at the tombstone, feeling more at peace in that moment than she had in months. “Good night, Henry.”

From his vantage point on the partially built roof, Wolverine watched Ororo follow the cobblestone path from the small cemetery where Hank and David Xavier resided, her steps a little lighter than when she had left earlier.

Kissing her in the Amazon had ignited something in him that wouldn’t die. An ache and a need to possess her that was driving him mad. She was a challenge, that was it. That explained his need for her. He’d always been able to have whatever woman he wanted, and she refused him. Why he wanted her was beyond him, hell, he didn’t even like her. Then again, he didn’t have to like her to want to be behind her while she was naked and touching her toes. His lips twisted in a feral grin. Truth be told, he rarely liked the women he fucked. Why should she be any different?


Night had fallen on Westchester some time ago, its coming heralded by the sky darkening from azure to indigo and the temperature cooling from sweltering to a breezy balmy and it currently found Ororo sitting in a corner booth of Harry’s Hideaway, sipping her tall mixed drink slowly, savoring its refreshing tang, trying her damndest not to think.

Just over an hour ago she had been seated on the front steps of the Institute, making a list of supplies she needed to have delivered for construction. She had noticed, with passive interest, several parents and potential students as they walked by her, on a Jean Grey guided tour of the mansion. Some of the adults wearing speculative looks on their faces and some looking flat out relieved that they had a place to send their ‘special’ children. It always irked her, the parents putting on a show of debating whether or not they would be sending their kids to Xavier, when in reality most not only sent their kids, but handed over guardianship as well. Hypocrites, the lot of them.

“Man, Harry’s is hoppin’ tonight!” Alison Blaire said, elbowing her way across the small, but packed dance floor, her beer in one hand, a shot of tequila in the other. Harry’s was a small bar that was a popular hangout for those of the mutant persuasion.

“Mmm.” Ororo murmured noncommittal, taking another drink. She brushed her hair off of her bare shoulder and stared across the floor, taking in the couples and relative strangers bumping and grinding against each other, performing the same tired mating ritual they performed weekend after weekend.

Ali slammed the shot back before she took her seat across from Ororo. “Whoo!” She shook her head against the bitter taste. “That shit is hot.” She studied Ororo for a moment, then, “You’re awfully quiet. Tired or something? Not sleeping much?”

Ororo shrugged. “I blame it on the evil clowns living under my bed.”

Ali raised one pierced eyebrow. “Say what?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Storm sipped her drink, a half smile flirting with her generous mouth. “Just a few little Bozo’s and one pissed off midget.”

Ali cracked up. “And they call me the weird one.”

“Only those that don’t know how utterly sane and mellow you are,” Ororo said gently with a friendly pat on Ali’s tattooed arm.

Ali beamed, opening her beer. “You’re in a mood tonight, huh?”

“Yes. I just want to relax. Have some fun.”

“Sounds like a swell plan.” She took a swig. “I still can’t believe crotchety Mr. Clean let you take one of the SUVs after what we did to the last one.”

Storm was silent.

Ali paused mid-drink. “He does know we have the car, right?” Still nothing. “Storm? The Professor knows we’re out, doesn’t he?”

Ororo lifted one shoulder. “He should. If he doesn’t then he’s not much of a psychic now, is he?”

Ali’s face split in a devilish grin. “Ah, hell, Storm. Your gonna get us in a world of shit.”

“Probably.”

Ali laughed. “Who knew you were such a cheeky monkey.”

Xavier Institute

*Wolverine.*

“Damn, I hate when you do that.” Wolverine grumbled. He was laying on his bed, propped semi-upright against the wall in his room, clad only in a pair of unbuttoned jeans, without the lights on. The tip of his cigar gave a faint orange glow as he puffed on it.

*Forgive the intrusion, but a couple of students have seen fit to break curfew.*

Wolverine exhaled a cloud of smoke slowly. “Yeah, so?”

*I was hoping you would be so kind as to go retrieve them.*

“I ain’t no babysitter.”

*Of course not.*

“Send Scooter.”

*Normally I would, but I have given him and Jean the night off.*

Wolverine’s teeth ground against each other. “Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it. The price of leadership and all.”

*That isn’t the only reason I am not sending Scott. I don’t believe he’d be able to persuade Storm to return.*

That got his attention. “Storm?”

*Yes. And Alison Blaire.*

Wolverine sat up and swung his feet over the side of his bed. “Where are they?”

*A bar outside of the city. A place called--*

“Harry’s. Yeah, I’m on it.” Wolverine stood, scratching one hand across his bare chest. He made his way to his dresser, neatly stocked with black tees and jeans. He’d have to go to town at some point and buy clothes, but for now these would do. He pulled on a snug black tee and grabbed his boots.


Harry’s

The first thing Wolverine noticed upon arrival was that the bar was busier than he could remember it being. The second thing was that he couldn’t immediately see Storm. He gave the room a predatory once over, searching for the white haired hell cat. He could smell her, he’d know her smell anywhere, a hint of sandalwood and spice, of flowers and sun, all mixed with the heady aroma of the earth after a storm.

He made his way to the bar, not needing to shoulder his way through. The patrons parted easily as he passed, moving away from him as though they could sense the danger on him, the animal, the hunter just beneath the surface. Barely contained and unbelievably lethal.

A dark spiky head caught his attention and he approached Ali from behind, tapping her on the shoulder with one finger. She didn’t bother to turn from the tattooed man she was conversing with, instead lifting her left hand and extending a solitary finger. He tapped again, harder.

Ali swiveled on the barstool, her face a dark scowl. “Look, fuck-face… Oh, hey.” Her lips parted in an uneasy smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yup. Fancy that.” He ordered a beer. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

He leveled a hard stare at her. To her credit Ali simply blinked at him, waiting.

“Storm. Where is she?”

“She’s not at home?” Ali asked innocently, swallowing the shot in front of her.

“Don’t dick me around, kid. I ain’t in the mood.”

Ali leaned towards him, her arm brushing his on the bar. “What are you in the mood for?” she asked huskily, her short, dark lashes partially veiling her shadowed blue-green eyes.

Wolverine grabbed her face in one hand, squeezing her jaw painfully. “Sleep. And seeing as how I can’t get none until I haul yours and Storm’s asses back to Xavier’s I’m really not in the mood fer games. Now, tell me where Storm is, or I get grumpy.”

Ali glared at him, but realized she wasn’t breaking his grip when she tried to pull back. “She’s on the floor with the Vin Diesel look alike,” she finally mumbled.

Wolverine released her and turned on his stool, grabbing the beer the bartender set down.

Ali rubbed her jaw. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

Wolverine ignored her, his primary focus was finding Storm. The bodies on the floor were jumping and grinding to a song that he was thankfully unfamiliar with. Through a brief gap in the writhing forms, he caught sight of Storm in the center of the floor. Her long hair was damp with sweat, sticking to her face and neck as she moved to the throbbing music.

He took a slow drink from his bottle, watching her, taking her in. Her hair was unbound, and the tendrils sticking to her body were a startling contrast of white on caramel. She was wearing a spaghetti strapped white laced top and a pair of black leather pants, held up by a silver looped belt. Every time she raised her arms over her head he caught a glimpse of her toned midriff and small navel. After a brief study he realized she wasn’t alone in the throng of people. The guy she was dancing with was tall and muscular, sporting a shaved head and dark sunglasses. He was wearing a white muscle shirt and dark denim jeans. And he was dancing far too close to Ororo as far as Wolverine was concerned. He chugged on his beer.

Ororo gyrated to the beat and swung her head back and forth, the music pounding in her blood. She was having a surprisingly good time tonight and she was loathe for it to end, but she knew they needed to get back to the Institute soon. She opened her eyes and noticed that a man was dancing right on top of her.

“So, where’re you from?” The guy dancing in front of her asked.

Ororo shook her head, not catching what he said. “Huh?”

He moved closer, one hand resting on her hip as he leaned in. “Where are you from?”

“Oh. Here and there,” she answered vaguely.

He smiled. He had a nice smile. She returned to dancing.

“I’m Derek,” he hollered over the music.

Ororo nodded.

“Aren’t you going t tell me your name?”

“No.”

He laughed. “You play hard to get?”

“No. I don’t play,” she said stepping back. He followed.

“How about I buy you a drink?”

“Thanks, but I’m all set.” She turned, still dancing, hoping he would get the subtle hint.

She felt strong arms slide around her waist and Derek ground himself against her backside in time to the music. Ororo placed her hands over his, trying to dislodge him without making a scene. He bent his head, whispering in her ear. “You’ve got an incredible body.”

“Thanks for noticing,” she drawled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get going.”

“What’s the hurry?” he asked, pulling her back against him.

Ororo gave him a cold look over her shoulder, all pretense of being civil gone. “You make me nauseous.”

Derek’s smile faded slightly, but not altogether. He was a good looking man, he knew that. Women always hit on him. “You do like to play hard to get, don’t you?” he leered, one hand sliding from her hip to the underside of her breast. “That’s ok, I like the chase.”

Feeling a wave of cold, hard anger wash over her Ororo contemplated kneeing him the groin or breaking his nose. The decision was taken out of her hands however as Derek was physically pulled off of her and a large fist smashed into his jaw, sending him stumbling and crashing into and through several dancers, until finally falling back over one of the small round tables littering the bar.

“Get up.” Wolverine stood over the man whose legs were sticking up over the table top at awkward angles.

Derek wiped his hand across his bloody mouth, spitting out his front tooth. “Jesus fucking Christ, dude…” He looked up at Wolverine, taking in the ferocious looking man that had just landed him on his ass and the rest of whatever he was about to say died in his throat. It wasn’t that Wolverine’s fists were still clenched, or even his rugged build that stopped Derek’s words, it was the glint in the other man’s eyes. The barely contained ferocity that shimmered below the surface, begging to get out.

Ororo, not having the vantage point Derek did, heedlessly grabbed Wolverine’s shoulder. “Hey!”

He barely glanced at her, his dark eyes locked on his prey.

“I could’ve handle this,” she stated, shoving his shoulder.

This time he turned. “Yeah, well, it’s handled. Get yer shit, we’re leavin’.” He looked back at the bar and motioned for Ali to come.

Ororo glared at him, her sapphire eyes biting. “You going to make me?”

Wolverine’s lips parted in an unquestionably feral grin and he looked her dead in the eye. “With pleasure.”

Without another word Ororo turned on her heel and made her way for the door, where Ali stood waiting.

Xavier Institute

Obstinate. Bully. Jackass. Arrogant. Vulgar. Sexy. Pigheaded. Prick. Mulish. Wait…had sexy been in there? Ororo punched her pillow, tossing it onto her bed. Damn him and his overbearing, conceited, assholic ways. Was assholic even a real word? Well, it was now. She punched her other pillow.

With a deft jerk she yanked back her burgundy comforter and forest green sheets and climbed into the cool bed. She clicked off her bedside lamp, muttering under her breath all of the personality traits she loathed about Wolverine.

There was a faint knock on her door and she tossed the covers back, surprised it had taken this long for her friend to show up. She padded quietly to the door, unmindful of her scant attire. She pulled it open without hesitation. “Ali--”

“Ain’t her.”

Ororo gasped softly without intending to. Immediately she tried to close the door, but a bare foot shoved between the door and the jamb stopped her. She shoved harder.

“Y’know, that don’t feel that great,” Wolverine growled.

“Then move it.”

Instead of removing his foot, he placed his hand flat on the door and pushed. Ororo stumbled back. He entered and silently closed the door behind him.

“What do you want?” she crossed her arms over her chest, supremely conscious of the skimpy top and silk shorts.

He stared at her in silence for a minute. “Why are you so hostile towards me?” he asked finally.

“You tried to kill Cyclops,” she answered automatically.

“Naw, that ain’t it.” He leaned against the closed door, crossing his ankles in front of him. “You and Scooter were never all that tight.”

Ororo snorted. “You really don’t get what it means to have friends, do you?” She glared at him. “The X-Men are my friends and my family. What you do to one of us, you do to all of us. We take care of our own, it’s what holds us together. It’s a concept you obviously don’t understand.”

That much was true. He’d never had to rely on anyone else to deal with his shit. His shit was his shit, and that’s how it should be.

“You threw Cyclops off a cliff, Wolverine, and for what? A piece of ass?”

He shrugged. “A really good piece of ass,” he drawled.

Ororo gave an exasperated sigh. “This is pointless. Get out.”

“No.”

“Get. Out.”

Wolverine stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “You want me.”

Ororo gave a short laugh. “You’re delusional.”

Wolverine shifted, moving away from the door and stepping towards her. Ororo tilted her chin up, determined to hold her ground. Once he was scant inches from her he bent his dark head, his wild, unruly hair brushing her chin, as he sniffed, inhaling deeply. When he lifted his head again there was a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I think not,” he rumbled.

Ororo sidestepped and moved to her dresser, where she pretended interest in the scattered contents atop the tall piece of furniture.

Wolverine stepped behind her, his hands resting on her hips, his breath teasing the short hairs on the nape of her neck, revealed due to her hair being upswept in a large clip. “Why are ya fighting this?” he asked huskily. His lips grazed her skin as he spoke. “We could be so good together.” His fingers flexed and Ororo bit back a moan. “Can’t you feel it?”

Ororo shuddered. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him. He was crude, and mean, and cold, and ruthless, and sexy, and hard, and hot and…No!

“Leave,” she whispered, her voice strangled with restrained desire.

“Ya don’t really want that, darlin‘.” Warm, moist lips pressed along her shoulder, strong hands slid up her torso, kneading her full breasts through the silk of her top.

“I mean it.” Her voice struggled for it’s familiar ice cold even as she unconsciously pressed her chest forward.

“Liar.” Wolverine flicked his thumbs over her taut nipples. He groaned softly, his erection nudging at Ororo’s curved backside through his jeans. “Say you want me,” he encouraged huskily, pressing more fully against her.

Ororo‘s mouth parted on a breathless gasp. “I--”

“Hey, Storm, the door was unlocked--! Oh. Hello.” Ali paused just inside the door. Her face split in a knowing and devilish grin. “Oh. Um, I’ll come back…”

“No!” Ororo pushed away from the dresser and Wolverine. “Stay.” Her eyes pleaded with Ali. “Wolverine was just leaving.”

Ali nodded, then widened the door opening, waiting.

A deep growl echoed in Wolverine’s chest and rumbled to his throat as he passed Storm and made his way out her bedroom door. He slammed it behind him, uncaring that it was two in the morning, or who it might wake.

Storm raised one eyebrow. “Did he just growl at me? I mean, honestly, all ’Grr’ and shit?” She looked incredulous.

“I think he did.” Ali smirked at Ororo.

Ororo made a show of fluffing her pillows and straightening her bed. After a minute she glanced at Ali to find her friend still staring at her, that knowing tilt still on her pretty face. “What?”

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Ororo Munroe. You spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.”

“Fuck you and eighteen generations of your ancestors there’s nothing to spill. I come in here and Mr. Machismo himself has got the girls in his hands and your neck in his mouth.” Ali threw herself onto Storm’s bed.

“Let’s drop this.” Ororo said.

“Nnhn. No way.” Ali propped herself up on one elbow. “Is he a good kisser?”

“What? No!” Ororo waved her hand.

“That’s a yes.”

“Alison.”

“Ororo.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ororo climbed into bed beside Ali. “He’s dangerous.” she said after awhile.

“So I’ve heard.” Ali seemed intrigued by that. “So, it’s true? He tried to off Cyclops to get into Jean’s Smurf panties?”

Ororo shook her head. “He’d already been in the panties. He wanted her back, I guess. No one really knows for sure what he was thinking, but I think he was trying to hold onto the only good thing he’d had in his life.”

Ali scoffed. “Miss high-n- mighty-my-shit-don’t-stink-Grey? That was the only good thing in his life? You sure he ain‘t just bonkers or evil?”

Ororo sighed. “I’d like to think he’s not evil. That having been twisted by years of cruelty and humiliation he didn‘t know what else to do to hold onto his happiness. That it was a brief lapse that caused him to betray Cyclops and all of us. Years and years of black-ops training can‘t just be undone... But at times….” Ororo shook her head sadly. “Sometimes I think I’m wrong.”

“Wow. Intense.” Ali rolled onto her back, folding her arms under her head. “So that’s true too? He was some kinda assassin.”

“The best in the world,” Ororo confirmed. “But much more than that. He’s a weapon. Born and bred to be the perfect weapon. Lethal and damn near indestructible.”

“Do you know how many he’s killed?”

“Too many.”

“Hmm…”

“Alison, why do I get the feeling this is turning you on?”

“Oh, because it is.”

“Ali!”

“What? Bad boys make me hot!”

“Get. Go to your own room.” Ororo playfully pushed her from the bed.

“All right.” Ali jumped up from the floor. “You should play with him.”

Ororo shook her head laughing. “No thanks, I know better. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?”

“Nah. She gave me scissors and told me to run.”
“Right.” Ororo smoothed her blankets.

Ali gave her a surprisingly serious look. “You need someone.”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “Ali…”

“I’m not saying Wolverine. But someone.”

“I have you.” Ororo laid back on the pillows. “Good night, Ali.”

“Yeah. G’night, Storm.”

In his room down the hall, Wolverine lay on his bed, his acute hearing picking up every word of the two women’s conversation. His claws extended and retracted in his agitation and undiminished desire. His cock was still rock hard, and he had barely touched her.

Seeing her in her pale blue satin nightclothes had aroused him to a fever pitch on sight, something that had never happened to him before. Not even Jean in her black and red laced teddies had gotten him that hard, that fast.

There was something about Ororo that drove him mad and excited him at the same time. Maybe it was because she looked like no one else on the planet. Maybe it was the way she met his gaze directly, head on. Maybe it was her killer body. Or maybe it was because he hadn’t had a woman in months and was about to explode. Who the fuck knew. All he knew was that he wanted her, and wanted her bad. And she wanted him. He had smelled it n her, faint but there, and he had felt her shudder at his touch. She was fighting it, but she wanted him. Content with that thought, Wolverine closed his eyes.


The sound of hammering echoed in the morning air and the whine of several drills sang out in dismal harmony. Ororo tied her red and white bandana around her head and tugged on her leather work gloves.

*BAMF*

“Guten morgen, Ororo.”

“Hey, Kurt.” She took the thermos of coffee he was holding out to her gratefully.

“Mmm. Perfect.” she sipped. “You do know how to spoil a lady.”

He smiled giving her a wink . “Where am I to be working today?”

Ororo pointed to the highest portion of the Danger Room dome. “All the way up there.” Kurt was the most agile man she had ever met and ran along the upper beams of the construction site as freely as she would run along the ground.

“Gutte.” He kissed her cheek before bamfing away.

Ororo unfurled the rolled blueprints she had carried with her, placing several rocks along the edges to keep the papers flat. She glanced at the fast progressing building and couldn’t help but smile with a bit of pride.

Renovations were going on all over the Institute. New dorm rooms, the new Danger Room, a new pool and even new course curriculum. Though Xavier’s was set up as a place of learning, due to recent events, they had all come to view the Institute less like a school and more like a training facility.

None of them wanted a war between mutants and norms, or with other mutants, but it was quickly becoming crystal clear that a vast majority of the rest of the world did not share that sentiment. The filtered glass of naiveté had been torn from all of them when Hank died. His senseless and tragic death changing them, and changing the way they viewed their jobs as X-Men. No longer were they messengers of a dream. No, now they were its protectors and the defenders of those that believed in it.

“What’s got you so occupied this morning?”

“Oh, hey, Scott.” Ororo greeted the tall man walking towards her.

“It’s progressing nicely,” Scott commended, taking in the nearly complete exterior.

“It is.” Ororo agreed. “It’s been a real team effort.”

“Hank would be pleased.”

Ororo cleared her throat. “I’m sure he’d be done by now.”

Scott chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re probably right.”

Ororo decided to change the subject. “What brings you out today? I thought you and Jean had today off.”

“We do. We got a break last night, and we have this evening off as well.”

She nodded, sipping from the thermos. “You guys deserve it after all you’ve been through.”

Scott smiled. “I think we all could use a break.”

“Now there’s some wishful thinking,” Ororo teased.

“The reason I stopped by was to thank you. I know you weren’t exactly thrilled with having Wolverine back on the team, but you risked your neck and brought him back to us.”

Ororo placed the thermos on the small bench she was seated on. “Just doing my job.”

Scott nodded, squeezing her shoulder. “Well, I’m off to take Jean to breakfast.”

“Have fun.” Ororo smiled. She watched him walk away and felt a swell of admiration. It took a big man to go toe to toe with Wolverine and an even bigger man to let the person that tried to kill him back into their fold, because he believed in the dream that much.

“Mornin’, darlin’.” Speak of the Devil.

Ororo groaned inwardly. She turned, and spotted Wolverine only a few feet away from her. He was dressed in a gray ribbed shirt and worn jeans. His thumbs were hooked in his belt as he rocked on his heels, watching her.

“Wolverine.” she inclined her head in greeting. Damn, the man was sexy, even first thing in the morning, with his unruly locks and grizzled cheeks, his muscled chest rising and falling with each stead breath. His wonderful mouth curled ever so slightly.

“Where do ya want me?” he asked.

Ororo blinked. “Huh?”

His smile broadened. “Where am I working today?”

“Oh…uhhh. How are you at laying brick?”

“It ain’t rocket science, ‘Ro.”

“Okay, then that’s where you--”

*X-Men to the war room.*

“Never mind.” Ororo tore off her leather gloves.

“He wants ta say ‘X-Men Assemble’,” Wolverine grinned at her. “I can feel it.”

Ororo couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t that copyrighted by the Avengers.”

“Probably.”

War Room

“What’s all the hubbub, bub?” Bobby Drake asked, doing his best Wolverine impression, puffing out his chest and swaggering. The imitation was made all the more comical by the younger man’s lanky appearance and lack of bulk.

“Ahem.” Kitty cleared her throat pointedly.

Wolverine stood in the doorway, one ebony brow cocked and a nasty smile on his face.

Bobby froze, his smile forced. “Oh, uh, hey, Wolverine. Didn’t see you there.”

“You really ought ta consider IQ tests as a requirement,” Wolverine said to Xavier.
“I’ve been giving it serious consideration.” The Professor said matter-of-factly.

“So, what is the situation?” Cyclops asked, forgoing breakfast to take his role as leader of the team.

“I received a distress call just moments ago.”

“From?”

“Rogue.”

“Who’s Rogue?” Ali asked.

“Another former X-Man.” Kitty supplied. “Looks like they’re just crawling out of the woodwork.”

“You don’t sound like you like her,” Ali commented.

“Kitty and Rogue have issues,” Kurt said.

“Then I like her already.” Ali smiled.

“Enough banter,” Cyclops scolded. “When do we leave?”

“Immediately.”

“Is that filthy piece of gutter trash still with her?” Wolverine asked, deadly soft.

“No. Gambit was apparently killed in an altercation with the Juggernaut several weeks ago.” Xavier replied. “There is Sentinel activity in the area. Be prepared, my X-Men.”

“Hnh.”

“Uh-oh, Wolverine’s grunting. Someone break out the ice and the iodine. Somebody some where’s gonna need it.” Kitty said.

“Let’s roll, people.” Cyclops ordered.

“So much for your day off,” Ororo said as they made their way through the corridor.

“I’ll survive.”

“Where’s Jean?”

“She didn’t feel comfortable.” Was Scott’s only response.

“Can we gossip later?” Wolverine growled. “We got places to be.”

A warm breeze stirred the muggy afternoon air as Cyclops, Wolverine and Storm strode through the crowds on the Las Vegas Strip, having left their avionic masterpiece cloaked in the desert. The city was alive with people, making their search for their former teammate all the more difficult.

“Any idea about what Rogue got herself into?” Storm asked, dancing around a puddle of Goddess knew what on the asphalt sidewalk.

“Not really.” Cyclops replied, holding up the small locator he carried in the palm of his hand. “But if she called for help, then she‘s in real trouble. We need to find her and get her to the Bird fast. I‘m picking up incoming Sentinels.”.

Ororo raised one hand over her sparkling blue eyes, peering through the crowd, looking for any sign of Rogue. Hearing of Rogue’s Cajun companion’s death had made Ororo subtly withdrawn. Tall, and lean with thick, wavy auburn hair, blessed with the face of an angel and devil eyes, he had been a striking man, and from what Storm had seen of him in battle, he was a fighter. Street tough and hard. She had felt a connection to him almost immediately. Kindred. Street urchin knew street urchin. His death served as a grim reminder of what her fate could have been if she had remained on the streets.

“Whatchya thinking about so intently, darlin’?”
Wolverine rumbled, jolting her from her thoughtful trance.

She gave him a veiled look. “What’s his face,” she said with a wave of her hand, aiming for nonchalance. “The guy our girl Rogue took off with.”

Immediately Wolverine’s scowl deepened. “What about him?”

“Nothing in particular,” she shrugged, her gaze lingering over his solid frame. The three of them were dressed in their uniforms, and she had always admired how he looked in his. The black synthetic material stretched taut over his broad chest and thick, muscled arms like a second skin. She turned away, a flush creeping up her neck to bloom in her cheeks.

From the corner of her eye, Storm caught sight of a glint of metal in the afternoon sun. She turned towards it mere seconds before Wolverine shoved her aside roughly and deflected three razor knives heading straight at her with a deft -SNIKT-.

“I think we’ve been made,” he snarled, his stance all at once predatory and ready.

“Get down.”

Storm found herself once again momentarily distracted by Wolverine. Sunlight sparkled off his dark sunglasses as he turned to face their unseen enemy. His upper lip curled back, ever so slightly, revealing his stark white teeth and longer incisors. He looked feral and sexy.

Wolverine scented the air, a growl rumbling from deep inside, spewing forth a single statement that made his two companions tense further. “Weapon X.”

Storm raised her head, searching the rooftops of the casinos and restaurants. “I can’t see anybody.”

“You wouldn’t.” Wolverine snarled, his entire stance predatory. He was lethal. In every sense of the word. She would do well not to forget that, she reminded herself, with a shake of her head.

“Well, Wolverine, can you narrow it down?” Cyclops asked, pressing against the brick side of the building behind them.

Wolverine sniffed, scenting cooking grease and rotting garbage, sweat and money. He gave a short snort telling his frustration. “This whole damn city smells. Can’t make heads or tales of what belongs where.”

Cyclops lifted the locator, giving the green blinking dot a once over. “Storm, get me an aerial view,” he ordered, dodging as yet another set of blades was hurled at them.

Storm peered towards the sky. “Oh, yeah sure. I’ll just float on up overhead while highly trained soldiers, with a penchant for mutant mad-ons, take aim at me with their high powered scopes and blast a nice hole in my head. Good plan.” Blue eyes clouded white as she called forth a thick, dense fog.

“Now we can’t see them,” Cyclops complained.

“We couldn’t see them before, but at least this way the odds are a bit more even.” Storm countered.

Wolverine shifted, catching movement in his peripheral vision. “Both of you, shut up,” he growled. His shoulders hunched forward and his lip curled even further.

Noticing the shift in him, Cyclops asked, “What do you got?”

A slow smile spread on Wolverine‘s face and caused Scott‘s blood to cool. He had seen that smile once before…

“Prey.” Wolverine took off down the street, people screaming and running away from him and his six blades.

“Wolverine!” Cyclops hollered. He sighed in frustration. “That man doesn’t know the meaning of the words ‘team work.’”

“Oh, Ah don’t know. Ah get the feelin’ there are a lot of words Wolverine knows, he just don’t like tah use ‘em.”

Storm whirled around. “Rogue!”

The young girl stepped forward, the fog parting to reveal her haggard form, and something unexpected. Ororo gasped. Rogue’s eyes glittered back at her, a devilish red on black that Ororo had only seen once before. Rogue ran a hand through her chestnut and snow hair, giving Ororo a half smile. “Storm.”

“Are you all right?” Storm reached for her, but Rogue pulled back, a look of wariness on her pale face. Ororo held up her hands, revealing the black gloves encasing her fingers. “Okay?” she reached for Rogue again. “What happened?”

Rogue winced. “Some people are aftah me.”

“Why?”

“They think I have something of theirs.”

“Do you?” Storm asked.

Rogue smiled wistfully. “Not anymore.”

Overhead the sudden roar of what sounded like rocket ships echoed. Sentinels.

Storm maneuvered Rogue behind her. “Cyclops, we have Rogue. Let’s go.”

Cyclops looked frustrated. “We need to get Wolverine.”
Storm shook her head. “He’ll manage.”

“Storm, take Rogue back to the Blackbird, I’ll try and track down Wolverine.” Cyclops opened the locator he still carried.

“Good luck with that, pal. He looked like a man on a mission,” Ororo mumbled.

“He’s gone aftah the people aftah me?”

Cyclops nodded. “He thinks they’re Weapon X soldiers.”

Rogue swore. “Then Ah’m going too.”

“Halt mutant!”

Storm and Cyclops turned to see a giant robotic mutant hunting Sentinel lower itself to the ground, stirring up heated blasts of air. They glanced at each other, then at Rogue, noticing that she was in civilian clothes, detectable by the DNA scanners of the Sentinels.

“Move!” Cyclops barked, firing a red-hot optic blast at the towering monstrosity.


Elsewhere

A wounded soldier leaned against the postal blue mail box, trying to catch his labored breath. He glanced behind him, but couldn’t see anyone tailing him. He closed his eyes, giving a weary sigh. He knew better, he knew that the Wolverine was hot on his tail. He had been cocky, careless, uncaring if the filthy mutant had seen him. After all they were just going to capture it again and cage it like the animal it was.

Originally the plan was to take in the southern teen mutie that could absorb powers and shit, and interrogate her about what information she had absorbed from the Cajun thief she had been traveling with; However, there had been a change in plans, the Wolverine was too good of a prize to pass up.

Brown eyes snapped open when he heard a faint growl and a subtle -SNIKT- from behind him. He turned slowly, guardedly. “Easy, friend…”

“I ain’t yer friend.” Wolverine strode forward, his eyes hidden behind his shades, but the soldier got the distinct impression he was being stalked. “Where’s Rogue?”

The man took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wolverine cricked his neck. “Ya must be new, so I’ll give ya a little heads up. I can smell a lie. Rogue. Where is she?”

“Easy. I-I-I don’t wanna--wanna fight.” Up close the intensity of the feral was overwhelming.

“Hnh.” Another step closer.

Wolverine watched the soldier through narrowed eyes. The guy was shifty, and he didn’t trust him, knowing all too well that the most innocent in appearance were often the most deceptive. It was apparent this soldier was of lower rank, and useless to him by means of information. Wolverine felt his blood boil in anticipation. One corner of his mouth tilted up as he thought about the beating he was about to deliver.

Seeing the tilt on Wolverine’s lips the soldier closed his eyes. He knew he stood no chance. “Wolverine? Right?” he asked, maneuvering away. “Look, just walk away. I won’t t-tell anybody I saw you.”

Nothing from Wolverine.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The young man raised his handgun.

“Can’t say I share the same sentiments, Bub.
”
A dark stain appeared on the soldiers dark pants.

Wolverine smirked.

A sudden rumble of thunder alerted Wolverine that all was not well with his teammates. He turned quickly, seeing one of the governments building sized robot firing towards the ground. Sonofa--!

A bullet slammed into his chest. With a viscous snarl he turned on the soldier, slicing through flesh and bone, rending the man’s arm from his torso.

“AAAAAAUUUUUGH!”

“Better learn ta wack off with yer left hand.” With that Wolverine took off towards the explosions.

“Nice of you to join us,” Storm said to Wolverine as he rounded the corner. She reached down pulling Rogue to her feet. The broken, smoldering metal form of the US government Sentinel lay in a heap a few feet from the two women. Cyclops was on his cell, most probably relaying the events of what happened to Xavier.

“What happened?” he asked.

Ororo raised one brow, gesturing to the fallen robot. “It’s a neopet gone awry. What do you think happened, Wolverine? We were attacked, and as usual you were off playing lone soldier.”

“Look--” he began, but Storm was already walking away.


*****

Cemetery

“Hey.” Ororo sat on the grass, leaning against the marble tombstone that marked her best friends grave and opened the book on her lap, uncapping her ball point pen. Rogue’s retrieval had been chaotic to say the least, but eventful, making for a good journal entry…except it wasn’t the Sentinel battle on her mind.

She chewed the end thoughtfully, trying to formulate the words to convey her confused and swirling emotions from mind to page. Ever since she was a little girl Ororo had loved to write, had loved words. She had been fascinated by them, intrigued with how very powerful they were. It was one of the many things she had loved most about Henry. The man was a walking dictionary. Words she had never even heard of before spilled from his lips in fluid sentences that made even the most paltry phrase and topic seem mesmerizing. His extensive vocabulary combined with the deep baritone of his voice made him her favorite thing to listen to.

~I’m flattered.~

Ororo closed her eyes, picturing Hank in her mind, leaning her head back. “Hi.” she whispered.

~Hi. You seem troubled.~

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

~I take that to mean you do not have the inclination to verbalize your current vexation?~

She smiled at that. “Not particularly.”

~Care if I make a conjecture?~

“Could I stop you?”

~I’m certain you could if you so chose. I am, after all, a figment of your imagination.~

“Hm. Good point.”

~As far as imaginary friends go, you have impeccable taste.~

“When did you get conceited?”

~There is no conceit in self worth.~

“Are you about to get all philosophical on me?”

~When am I not?.~

“Should it concern me that I’m talking out loud to a dead guy?”

~Probably. Of course you could always cool down the mansion and run room to room whispering ‘I see dead people’ with that neat little puff of breath hovering in the frigid air.~

“Yes, people think I’m spooky enough.”
~You are not spooky.~

“Thank you.”

~You’re weird.~

“Henry.”

~Wolverine.~

“What?” That caught her off guard.

~Wolverine is headed this way.~

“Now why’d you have to go and ruin my mood.” Ororo opened her eyes and sure enough Wolverine was striding up the cobbled path towards her. He had changed from his uniform into a plain white t-shirt under a beaten denim jacket and a pair of faded jeans. His face was shadowed from his cowboy hat, but she could see the burning tip of his trademark cigar, and a beer can in his hand.

With a feeling of unease she slowly got to her feet. “Wolverine,” she greeted, knowing even at a distance he could hear her. “What do you want?”

“Came ta pay my respects ta Beast.” He replied when he was closer, his eyes moving from her to the tombstone. “Fer what it’s worth, I thought he was a good man.”

Ororo nodded solemnly. “He was. The absolute best.” She ran her fingertips lightly over the cool headstone, saying a silent farewell.

“You two were close?” he commented when she started away.

“Henry was my best friend,” she responded tightly. “But you knew that.”

“Look, ‘Ro. I know ya got a stick up yer ass about me givin’ Scooter the heave -ho, but could ya cut me some slack. I didn’t come up here to fight with you.”

She sighed heavily, the days events and her emotional turmoil making her tired. She and Wolverine had never really been friends but she had been all about giving the former assassin a second chance, but that was before he had betrayed the team and before Henry’s death. She remembered all too well the last conversation she and Wolverine had shared before he and Scott took the assignment in the Savage land. The one assignment that had changed everything.

*****
Several months ago...

Ororo was seated on the brown leather couch in the rec room beside Wolverine watching comedian Dane Cook on the television.

“It’s so wrong that I find this so funny,” she said, her face sore from smiling.

“Ya do seem ta be getting a kick outta this,” he had commented.

She lifted one shoulder. “It’s good to laugh, Logan. Reminds me that I’m still human and more than an obligatory action figure in Professor X’s dream of a brighter tomorrow.”

Wolverine gave her a lingering once over, taking in her white tank and short black skirt. “I ain’t never seen an action figure look like you, darlin’.”

Ororo laughed. “Would you have played with it?”

“There’s a loaded question.” Wolverine took a long drink of beer.

Ororo punched his arm playfully. It was then that Jean and Scott had entered the room, holding hands and fawning over one another. Wolverine had become very tense, his gray gaze deepening to black as he watched the young couple. -SNIKT- He had growled low and forcibly retracted, trying to control his rage.

“Must be hard watching the woman you love with someone else,” Ororo commented softly.

“Love,” he grumbled glaring at Scott and Jean’s cuddling backs. “Who the fuck needs it?”

Ororo took his hand, the one his claws had extended from. She rubbed his knuckles, her finger tips removing the faint trace of blood the extension caused. “I think you need it more than anyone.” She stood, deciding to give him some privacy. “Good night.”

Wolverine and Scott had left the next morning for the Savage Land.

*****

Thinking back now, Ororo wondered if maybe she should have seen the danger Wolverine posed to Cyclops. Knowing that such questions and ponderings were useless and ridiculous she recapped her pen. “I don’t want to fight with you either, Wolverine. If we’re going to be forced to work together, then I think a civil relationship would be best.”

He gave her a long stare. “Whatever happened to Logan?” he asked, referring to her only calling him Wolverine.

She met his stare with a weighted one of her own. “I could ask you the same thing. Excuse me.”

Logan watched her go with a mixture of emotions he didn’t want to deal with. He turned to the headstone. “So,” he said after taking a drink of his beer. “Yer dead.”

Leaves tumbled across the ground.

“Sucks ta be you.” He walked away from the grave.


“Goooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllll!!!” Inside the Mansion’s recreation room, Bobby Drake lifted his arms over his blond head in a victory ‘V’ and raced around and around one of two foosball tables.

Kitty gave him a disgusted look, angrily spinning the handle of her goalie. “You suck,” she told the little inanimate object.

“Aww, play nice, Kitten,” Ororo teased strolling into the room. “You’ll hurt the little man’s feelings.”

“Ororo!” Peter rose from the oversized recliner he was seated in, smiling in welcome. It had been awhile since Storm had joined them in the rec room, or anywhere else, for that matter.

“Peter.” She acknowledged. “What’s everyone up to this evening?”

“Well, Katya and Bobby just finished a rousing game of fake soccer, and Alison is currently whomping Kurt in Tekken.” He gestured to the carpet where Alison lay on her stomach and Kurt sat cross legged beside her, video game controllers in hand. “And I am reading.”

“Fascinating.”

“It is good to see you here,” he said sincerely. He looked around, as if expecting someone. “Where is Wolverine?” he finally asked.

Though they had just parted ways, her response was a flat, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” Ororo plopped herself onto the couch, one arm flung over her head, her long hair trailing to the floor. She yawned as she stared at the large screen television and the Tekken match taking place there.

“I’m right here, Petey.” A low rumble caused all activity in the room to momentarily cease. Ororo sighed, knowing it had been a futile wish to get some time to veg. No way could she relax with him around making her stomach somersault and her heart beat pound so hard her teeth clinked.

“Hello, comrade. Are you up for a game of pool?”

Wolverine gave nod making his way to the dark green felt covered table. “Sure. I got nothin’ better ta do.”

“You do now,” Cyclops said, walking into the room, with Jean beside him. The lovely red-head cast Wolverine a wary look. In response he grinned wolfishly, causing her to gasp and look away. “You and Storm are wanted in the Professor’s Office.” Cyclops continued. “Now.”

Wolverine replaced the pool stick he had just removed from the wall. “Looks like it’ll have ta be another time, Pete.”

“Why?” Ororo asked Scott, unmoving from the brown leather couch.

“The Professor didn’t say,” Jean answered. “He just told us that he wanted to see you and Lo-- Wolverine.”

Ororo grunted, sitting up and running a hand over her hair. “I don’t suppose I could call in sick?”

“Why not? Cyke and Jean get days off to fuck.” Alison said from the floor.

“Alis--” Cyclops began.

“Bite me, Visor boy.”

Wolverine smiled. “I’m starting to like her.”

“Gee, you like me? Wow, now I’m giddy as a school girl.” Ali guffawed in thick hillbilly accent.

“Alison, what have I told you about that kind of behavior?” Ororo admonished.

Ali hung her head, pouting slightly. “It’s not nice to mock the stupid?”

Ororo smiled, pleased. “Good girl.”

“Enough you two.” Cyclops said, clearly exasperated. “Storm, Wolverine, the Professor wants you. Alison, shut up.”

Ororo and Ali winked at each other, untroubled by Scott’s reprimand; it was a usual enough occurrence. With a resigned sigh Ororo stood, stepping over Ali and Kurt, giving Nightcrawler’s tale a gentle pull as she passed. “Whoop our girl’s butt good for me, okay?”

Kurt laughed. “I’ll try, but no promises. She tends to cheat.”

“I do not!” Ali protested, gently shoving Kurt.

“Doing the same combo over and over is not cheating?” He playfully pushed her back.

“Not when it works,” she retorted. “Now shut up and play.”

Ororo could hear Ali’s triumphant yell as she and Wolverine made their way through the long corridors. Never had the school seemed so large as it did now. Walking through the building, alone with Wolverine was disconcerting.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and Ororo knew he was studying her. She stopped abruptly, casting him an annoyed look over her shoulder. “Do you mind?”

Logan rocked back on his heels, his smile smug. “Not at all.”

Ororo frowned, turning and continuing down the hall.

“You have a great ass.” Logan murmured, just loud enough for her to hear his lust tinted voice.

Ororo shivered, her stomach clenching. Damn him! And his ridiculous effect on her!

Once outside the Professor‘s door, there was no need to knock. “Enter.” Xavier called.

Logan pushed open the door, stepping around Ororo, brushing her arm with his as he did so and she literally felt electricity course between them. His steel eyes flickered as he looked at her. He had felt it too.

“Wolverine. Storm. Please be seated.” Charles indicated the two chairs in front of his small hearth, a cheery fire crackling. The man certainly liked fire, Wolverine thought.

Ororo sat, crossing one leg over the other, patiently waiting for Xavier to continue.

“What is it ya want, Chuck?” Wolverine asked, still standing, but he moved behind Ororo’s seat, placing his arm along the back.

“I have an assignment for the two of you.” Charles said without preamble.

Before he could continue Ororo shook her head. “No thanks, Professor. Last time you sent Wolverine on a mission he threw Cyclops off a cliff.”

Wolverine snorted, leaning down so that his breath tickled her ear. “Relax, darlin’. You can fly.”

Charles cleared his throat. “This assignment is non negotiable, Ororo, so I suggest you get used to it.” Xavier telekinetically sent them each a manila folder. “Inside is a dossier on a man known as Victor Creed, aka, Sabertooth. He’s a dangerous mutant and I believe he is being recruited.”

Ororo flipped open the file, sifting through the papers. “By whom?”

“At this time I believe it may be Weapon X.” Xavier’s gaze locked on Wolverine.

“Hnh.”

“I need as much information as you can gather. Photos, location, movement. All of it. This information will be highly valuable for me as well as for General Fury.”

Wolverine snapped his folder shut. “I can handle this solo, Chuck. I don’t need Princess Doom and Gloom comin’ with.”

“Good.” Ororo said, standing.

*Sit.*

Ororo sat, compelled to do so.

Xavier stroked the prone feline on his lap, his voice firm as he continued. “I hand out these assignments for very specific reasons. I do not pull names from a hat and send you off willy-nilly--”

Ororo barely suppressed a smile at the Professor saying willy-nilly.

“In this case you and Storm are ideal for the job. Locating Creed will be difficult; thus far no one seems able to do it. With your tracking and numerous other skills, Wolverine, you are our best bet at locating him.”

“Yeah, so what’s Storm for?”

“Attraction.”

Both Ororo and Logan leaned forward. “Excuse me?” Ororo said, clearly surprised.

Xavier looked them straight in the face. “Ororo, you are a very beautiful woman, with intense power. It will attract him.”

“No.” Wolverine shook his head.

“There is a good chance Creed once worked with Magneto and his Brotherhood,” Charles added quietly, almost absently, but it had the desired effect.

“When do we leave,” Ororo asked, her voice frozen.

“Tomorrow. You’ll be traveling by car. The details of your assignment are in the folder. Read it, know it, get the job done.”

“Where we headed, Chuck?” Wolverine asked, irked by the stunt the man in front of him had just pulled.

“Somewhere you’ll be quite comfortable with, Wolverine. Canada.”


Ororo tossed her duffle bag onto her bed, cramming clothing inside, grumbling the entire while. Her ramblings becoming faster and more agitated with every article of clothing shoved into the open mouth of her bag.

“Ofalltherottenstupidluck--GettingsentintothefrigginwoodswithwackoWolverine…”

“Knock, knock.”

“Come in, Ali.” Ororo called, sliding the zipper open on one of the smaller pockets.

“Holy hell!” Ali said immediately upon opening the door. “What’d you do to piss off Mr. Clean? Sending you out alone with Wolverine? He wants you off’d, don’t he? I knew stealing the SUV again was a bad idea.”

Storm paused mid-stuff. “This isn’t funny, Alison.”

“Maybe not for you, but I think it’s damn hilarious.” Ali jumped up onto the bed, bouncing up and down. “Can I sleep in your room while you’re gone?”

Ororo frowned up at her. “What? Why?”

Ali pouted. “Cuz I’ll miss yoooooou.”

Ororo couldn‘t help but chuckle. “Freak.”

“You know it.”

“You really want my room?”

“Yes, you lucky bitch. Getting a single when I have to share with perpetual crush-girl.”

Ororo smiled, opening her underwear drawer. “Kitty can’t be that bad.”

Ali groaned, then mimicked. “Oooohhh, Spidey is soooo amazing and soooo super cool. And Iceman. Oooooh, he’s soooo dreamy. Fuckin’ gag me.”

“All right, I get it. I get it.”

Ali plopped onto her butt, jostling the duffle. “So. Where you headed?”

“Canada.”

“Ooooh, fun.” Ali rolled her eyes. “Why can’t there ever be an assignment in Hawaii, or the Bahamas?”

Ororo’s mouth twitched. Ali always put her in a good mood. There were many at the Institute that found Ali abrasive and hard to deal with, but once you got past the exterior spikes and gruffness, the girl had a heart of gold.

“Sooo…” Ali prodded.

“Sooo… What?”

Ali leaned forward, her voice lowered. “You and Wolverine… Alone. Un-chaperoned…”

Ororo dropped her hairbrush, then quickly retrieved it, casting Alison a sharp look. “What of it?”

“Oh, come on? I saw you all hot and bothered the other night.”

“Ali, have you been sniffing glue again?”

Ali threw a pillow at Ororo’s head.

“The man is a walking weapon. I have more sense than to get involved.”

“Pfft. Who said involved? You just need a good, solid fuck.”

“Alison!”

“Well, you do. You’re wound tighter than a..a…well, something wound fuckin’ tight. You need some release.”
Ororo shoved several pairs of socks and underwear in her bag, trying to ignore the flush creeping into her face. “Could we talk about something else?”

“Ummmm…” Ali tapped her index finger against her chin, pondering. “ No.”

“Ali.”
“Ugh. Fine.” The dark haired girl flopped back on the mattress. “So, isn’t Kurt really hot?”

“Wow, we diverged so far.” Ororo rolled her blue eyes, trying her darndest not to laugh.

Ali shrugged. “Just stating the obvious.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe I’m not the one who needs some release.”

Ali laughed. “That’s why I have Big Earl.” She stated, referring to her vibrator.

“I’m glad for you. Now get your skinny, flat ass off my bed and help me pack.”

“Okay, okay.” Ali stood. As the two packed Ororo’s duffel they fell into companionable silence, moving around each other easily. When they were finished and the two bags were piled beside the door, Ali finally asked, “So, Stormy, you going to be okay?”

Ororo shook her head. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

“You cold?” Logan asked, watching Ororo rub her arms. They had been driving for hours without a stop and the silence was beginning to grate on his nerves.

She didn’t even glance at him. “I don’t get cold.”

“Hnh.” He adjusted the rearview mirror, for no other reason than for something to do. He was restless, more so than usual, and it had a lot to do with his fierce attraction to his white haired passenger.

After another long silence Ororo glanced at the map on her lap, running a finger along the route they should be taking. “You sure about where we’re headed?”

“Yes. There are dozens of caves and old hunting cabins in these mountains,” he answered, reaching for his cigars on the seat between them.

Ororo grimaced. “Do you have to?”

“Yes.” He snipped the tip.

Ororo glanced at the map again when they passed an intersection. “I think you missed--”

“You wanna drive?”

“No,” she said, folding the map, then very calmly rolling down the window and chucking it out.

Wolverine raised one brow. “I thought ya were all about recycling and environmentally conscious.”

“I am.”

“Hnh.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“Grunting. It’s annoying.”

“Hnh.”

Ororo turned to gaze out her side window. Asshole.

Wolverine glanced at her and was momentarily distracted by her profile and the graceful curve of her neck as she watched the scenery. How come it was only now that he saw the smooth texture of her skin, and the dancing radiance of her brilliant eyes, or wondered how her silvery hair would feel in his hands. He had no answer to those questions, all he knew was he was getting hard just looking at her and the urge to pull over was damn near overwhelming.

“You were Black Ops, right?” she asked, surprising him.

“Huh?”

She turned towards him in her seat, curling one leg beneath the other. “Before the X-Men? You were Black Ops?”

Wolverine studied the road, suddenly intent on his driving. “I was a hired assassin before the X-Men, Black Ops before that.”

“Did you like it?”

He seemed confused by that question. “Never thought about it.”

“Hm.”

Wolverine puffed his cigar thoughtfully. “What about you? What’d you do before Xavier took you in and converted ya? Model, waitress, aspiring actress?”

Ororo smirked a bit at that. “I ate from trash cans and picked pockets.”

He looked at her speculatively. “Really?”

“Really. Then I got into carjacking and taking jobs… Hey, a restaurant. Let’s stop, I’m starved.”

Wolverine nodded, pulling off the road into the graveled drive of a small diner. He could go for some grub himself, but he found himself reluctant to let go of the conversation, finding the little tid-bit he’d just learned very interesting. Ororo Munroe had secrets.

The roadside diner was relatively empty when they entered. An old country song was playing on an old jukebox in the back. There was a young couple with a baby in one of the booths and two long haul truckers at the counter, drinking coffee and talking shop.

A skinny waitress approached them the moment they slid into their booth, holding a coffee pot in one hand and two mugs in the other. “Joe?”

Wolverine smiled cordially, a firm believer in treating wait staff respectfully. It lowered the risk of unwanted contents in one’s dinner. “Fill ‘er up.”

“You miss?”

“Is it fresh?” Ororo asked.

The waitress sniffed the top of the pot. “Not really.”

“How about strong?”

“It is that.” the waitress, whose name tag read: Rebecca, replied.

“Me too, then.” Ororo nodded with a smile. She took a drink the moment the pot was lifted away from the mug. She winced at the bitter taste, but enjoyed the warm heat. After a silent deliberation they ordered. Cheeseburger and fries for Logan, bloody, with a beer. Cheeseburger and potato for Ororo with a coke.

Fingernails began drumming the tabletop in an abstract rhythm. After a minute Logan’s hand reached out, covering hers. “Stop that,” he said.

Ororo jerked her hand away as though he’d burnt her, his touch sending fire along her arms and through her body, pooling in her stomach. Goddess, the man was sexy. She looked at him through lowered eyes. His ebony hair was windblown and in familiar disarray, with several locks falling over his forehead. His silver and steel eyes glittered with a predatory gleam that made her want to run and melt all at once. Though he was not handsome in the typical way, she had always found him pleasing to her. Handsome was too ordinary a word for him. He was… raw… animalistic… primal. Ororo shook her head in order to scatter those very distracting thoughts.

“Sorry.” she muttered, referring to her finger tapping. Then, “Wait. Why the hell am I apologizing?”

“Because you should,” he smirked. “That was damn annoying.”

The glare she sent him should have peeled the skin off of his face. His smirk widened into a grin. He drank his coffee, noticing the darkening sky through the wide window they were seated beside. He glanced at her.

“Not me,” she mumbled, sipping her bitter coffee. “Rain,” she said flatly, “and hail.”

“Not pleasant for driving.”

She shrugged. “It’ll be gone before we head out.”

“Ya’d make a helluva weather girl,” he commented.

Ororo rolled her eyes. “Never, ever have I heard that before.”

Wolverine relaxed against the hard back of his bench seat, studying her.

“Why are you staring at me,” she hissed.

“Yer nice ta look at,” he answered plainly.

“Well, stop it.”

“No.”

Ororo looked out the window, trying not to let him bother her. She decided she‘d had enough of him rattling her cage, maybe he could use some discomfort. “You were Canadian covert too,” she said watching the rain fall. “That’s how you met Fury.”

He gave her a sharp look. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I broke into Xavier’s office and read your file.”

“Ya did what?” He seemed to be having trouble believing her.

“I read your file,” she repeated, enunciating each word carefully. Ororo watched him take a breath and knew he was trying to keep his temper under control. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He looked ferocious. Ferocious and sexy. Storm, get a grip, she told herself. “So what exactly did you do?” she asked him, looking him in the eye.

“Don’t ya know?”

“Parts of the file were highly classified.”

“I just bet they were.” His tone was snide.

Ororo added a packet of sugar to her coffee. “I don’t suppose anyone taught you to be obnoxious?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Just lucky and born that way. Yer one to talk. You’ve got the alienation ‘this is my personal space’ crap down pat, darlin‘.”

Ororo slowly stirred. “I’m an open book. You’re the one with the dark and shady mysterious past.” Her tone was mildly condescending.

Wolverine’s eyes narrowed into silver slits. “Leave it alone, Ororo. I don‘t like people pryin‘ inta my shit.”

“You don’t scare me.” She sighed, leaning back. “But I’ll drop it.”

He smiled. Maybe he didn’t scare her; he couldn’t smell it on her. She was different than anyone he’d known before. Challenging. And he liked a challenge. His teeth gleamed. “Did ya read the dossier Chuck gave ya?”

Ororo nodded, sipping from the ceramic mug in her hand. “This Creed guy apparently has severe violent tendencies.”

“He’s dangerous.” Wolverine acknowledged.

“I can’t imagine the Professor wanting a guy like that on the X-Men.”

One brow cocked.

Too late she realized the faux pas of that statement. Saving her from having to say anything to further exacerbate her blunder, the waitress approached with their meals. Immediately she lifted her burger and took a hearty bite.

“You were hungry.” Logan commented.

“Told you,” she replied, swallowing.

“So ya did.”

They ate their meals in silence, eating unhurriedly, but quick enough to get back on the road before nightfall. After the tab was paid and a more than generous tip left, they made their way outside, and true to Ororo’s word, the rain and hail had stopped.

Back inside the SUV, Ororo asked, “If Creed doesn’t want to be recruited, what then?”

Logan turned the ignition. “We eliminate the threat.”

Ororo’s mouth fell open. “You’d kill him?” she asked, incredulous.

Wolverine glanced at her. “I thought ya said ya read my file. It‘s what I do, princess. I‘m the best there is at what I do, and what I do ain‘t pretty.”

“I did. Cover to cover. But apparently I missed the part where you kill people for not wanting to become X-Men.”

“What the fuck d‘ya expect me to say?” he cursed. “If Creed is half as dangerous as his file indicates, then we have to be prepared to make the tough call.”

“This is unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. “I know the Professor wants us to learn many skills, but killing?” she shook her head again. “Not me.”

Logan gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. “I think ya can handle it.”

“Excuse me?”

“From what I’ve seen, yer two different people. There’s Storm, the X-Man, and then there’s Ororo, the woman.” The way he said woman sent a shiver of excitement along Ororo’s spine. “Storm is hard and cold, but in the end she gets the job done,” he continued. “The others, they let their emotions get in the way. Become too involved. Yer detached when on a mission.”

Ororo shifted in her seat. “I kinda have to be.”

He simply continued to look at her.

“My powers are tied into my emotions. If I’m not careful, people…well, people get hurt.” She turned her eyes away from his direct stare.

“I know the feelin’.”

She cleared her throat. “I just bet.”

“Hnh.”

She rolled her eyes. Wolverine pulled onto the road. They had traveled a mile before he spoke. “So, yer an open book, huh. Tell me about yourself.”

She countered. “Tell me about that time you went to California?”

Wolverine’s head snapped around. “What the fuck do ya know about that?”

Ororo flinched. “Only that you went as a favor to General Fury to take care of a threat. A mutant threat.”

“How the hell did ya get that little piece of info, darlin’? Chuck don’t even know about that.”

She looked away. “Henry. He hacked into the Justice Department records. It was a thinly veiled file, and your name was never mentioned, but we got the gist.”

“Oh, yeah? And what is it ya think I did?”

Ororo directed her gaze towards his ticking jaw. “I think you killed a fifteen year old boy to prevent him from unwittingly killing another few hundred people with his mutation. The chemical plant spill was a nice cover story, but the Mutant Underground all knew it was you.”

“Mutant Underground?”

“It’s a bunch of mutant teenagers mostly. Trying to deal with mutation on top of all the teenage bullshit life hands them. ”

Wolverine considered this. “Well informed teenagers.”

Ororo shrugged. “Must have been tough, killing that kid,” she said quietly. “Even for you. Having to murder someone just because they’re a mutant. Kind of goes against everything the X-Men are fighting for.”

Wolverine grunted, but made no verbal response.

“What makes this Fury guy judge, jury and executioner, anyways?” she asked.

Wolverine flicked on the headlights. “He does what needs ta be done. What the other bureaucratic pussies are too chicken shit to do. He takes care of his own.”

“How do you figure in? You scratch his back, he scratches yours?”

“This is the point at which this conversation is officially over,” he growled. “You hacking into the Justice Department could’ve gotten ya into some serious shit.”

She seemed unconcerned. “Probably.”

“No probably about it. Just be glad ya weren’t traced.”

“Or what? It’d be me you‘d have to take care of?”

Wolverine didn’t comment, but the set of his jaw told her she hadn’t wanted the answer anyway.

After another silent few hours and seemingly endless miles later, on a road more dirt than pavement, Logan flipped on the heater, “I don’t want to have ta worry about ya out here. Yer gonna have to listen ta me, every single step of the way. You got that?”

“You want blind obedience?”

“Exactly.”

Ororo pursed her lips, his tone irritating her. “I can handle myself.”

“How much survival training have you had?”

She chose to ignore his well placed point. “I have skills.”

“I just bet you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Yer an open book, remember.”

Of all the stupid people on the planet to be stuck with, she had to be partnered with the most obnoxiously arrogant man of them all. She said as much and was rewarded by a deepening scowl that could have been chiseled in stone.

“I didn’t ask fer yer company, sugarplum, and I sure as hell won’t stop ya from running back ta Chuck.”

“Forget it, Wolverine. You’re stuck with me.”

Suddenly the SUV veered left, causing Ororo to grab onto the ‘Oh shit!’ bar. “What?” she asked.

Instead of answering Wolverine slammed the vehicle into reverse and backed up, the tires spitting gravel. “There.” He pointed to a small store, down a narrow dirt road, about half a mile into the dense woods. She could just make out the small rustic building through the trees. How he had spotted it driving she had no idea, but Ororo saw it now.

“That’s the only store fer miles. If this Creed fella is in these woods, he’ll have stopped in there.” He pulled in front of the small store that had a sign in the window ’Cabins for Rent’ and unhooked his seatbelt. “Wait here.” he told her, opening his door.

“Absolutely not. If I’m to be the sexual bait for this guy, I need to be seen.”

Wolverine glowered. “What did I just get done sayin’?”

“Fine.” She glared back at him. “What exactly are you going to do?”

“Go hunting.”

For fifteen minutes Ororo sat in the black and silver SUV, waiting. She was just about to head into the store, despite Wolverine’s adamant protest, when the driver’s side door opened and Logan slid into the truck. She never even heard him coming.

“He’s close.” He started the engine.

Ororo raised a silver brow. “How close? Like hiding behind a tree or bush close?”

Logan shook his head. “The owner of the store wasn’t talking, but he knows something. Wouldn‘t even rent me a cabin after I asked about Creed.”

“How do you know it has anything to do with Creed?”

He stared intently out the window. “Because the guy in there picked up the phone not twenty seconds after I stepped outta the store. He’s callin’ someone, and dollars ta donuts it’s Creed.” He rolled the truck back, making it look like they were leaving, but instead of hitting the road, he drove behind some trees.

Ororo frowned. “So, now what?”

“I’ll give him five minutes, then go back in.”

“For what?”

“Licorice.” He gave her an exasperated look.

“Well, before you go in all slicing’ and dicing’ maybe I could talk to him? I mean, he hasn’t seen me, yet. Couldn’t I go in and…I don’t know, ask to use the phone? Strike up a conversation?”

Logan contemplated that. “All right.” He opened his jacket and pulled out a handgun. “You know how ta use one of these?”

Ororo nodded, but didn’t take the weapon.

He nudged her with the butt. “Take it.”

“I have powers,” she reminded him.

“Goodie fer you. Take it.”

Ororo grabbed the pistol, shoving it in the back of her jeans and using her jacket to cover the bulge. “I hate guns.”

“Yeah, well, deal with it,” he told her as she hopped from the vehicle.

The store was small, filled with mostly beer and canned goods. Ororo made her way to the counter where a man in a red and black flannel stood, titillating his intellect by reading the articles in a Playboy magazine.

“Excuse me,” Ororo said as she approached. “Could I use your telephone?”

He didn’t glance up. “Ya gotta buy something’ first.”
Ororo reached the counter, leaning forward, her arms crossed in front of her. “I’m out of gas. If I could just use your phone to call AAA?”

The man behind the counter swiveled on his stool, the dark glower on his face evaporating when he saw her and instantly his mouth drooped. “I..uh..I, umm…Hoo boy.”

She smiled, “So the phone?”

Seven minutes later Ororo opened the passenger door of the SUV. “He rented us a hunting cabin about thirty miles south of here, a place called Eagle‘s Crossing,” she said. “Turns out you were right. Victor Creed spends a couple of months a year out here.” She tossed a small map onto the seat, the directions outlined in black sharpie.

“How in the fuck?” Logan asked incredulously.

“To quote Julia Roberts, they’re called boobs, Wolverine.”

“Yer not comin’ with me,” he said flatly.

Ororo sat straighter, buckling her seatbelt. “Oh, yes, I am.”

“Listen to me,” he ordered. “Stay here, grab a bite from the snacks, I’ll call in Xavier ta come get ya.”

“You want me to sit here and munch on Cheetos-- after I practically flashed Elmer Fudd to get these directions-- while you go to Eagle’s Crossing?”

“Yes. If I go alone there’s a good chance I’ll find a good spot ta ambush him. I don‘t have time to baby-sit you.”

She gave him a narrow look. “I don’t need a babysitter. This guy has potential information that I need, and if you kill him, I won’t get it. So, I’m going with you. When I get what I need, then you can do your thing and I won‘t say boo.”

He snorted at that. “Ye’ll just slow me down. Besides, there’s a good chance Chuck’s full of shit and Creed don’t even know who the fuck the Brotherhood are.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

He was adamant. “We don’t even have a good bead on the guy, this could take hours or days.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You go without me, and I’ll follow you. I’ve seen the map, I know the way.” He was silent. “The longer we argue, the more likely a sudden rain will wash any scent or tracks away,” she added with a smug smile.

Wolverine pulled out a cigar. “Yer a piece of work,” he muttered.

“And you’re an obstinate, opinionated jerk. What of it?”

“Fine. The second ya slow me down I’m leaving ya.”

Ororo nodded. “I’ll keep up with whatever pace you set.”

“We’ll see.” He said as they pulled onto the narrow dirt road.

They traveled in relative silence, the only sound in the cab of the pickup was the faint squeak of the wiper blades as they passed back and forth across the windshield.

After a while he glanced at her and asked. “Is it real?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Yer hair. I’ve never asked before. Is it real?”

She gave him a perplexed look. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Curiosity.”

“The carpet matches the curtains, if that‘s what you‘re asking.”

He chuckled. “Colored contacts?”

“No.”

Curiosity seemingly satisfied Logan once again focused on navigating the bumpy trail. Ororo watched his profile thoughtfully. He was sexy as hell. No sense pretending she didn’t notice, but she didn’t have to like that she found him so attractive.

“What?” he questioned.

She hastily looked away. “Nothing.”

The self assured smirk on Logan’s face reappeared. “Hnh.”

The forest became thicker, drowning out the last remnants of the afternoon’s fading light. “This is it.” Logan said as they approached a rustic log cabin.

Ororo leaned forward in her seat, peering through the windshield at the single story cabin. As far as judging cabin’s went she had very little experience, but she assumed the structure she was looking at was good enough. For a girl who’d spent over half her life sleeping on the streets, she’d slept under and in worse.

The inside of the cabin was sparsely furnished with only two recliner chairs and a small table to mark a sitting area. A black iron fireplace/stove marked the kitchen. The walls were adorned with animal heads and varying sized antlers.

“Cozy.” Ororo muttered, dropping her bags and focusing her flashlight along the walls.

Wolverine elbowed past her, shutting the screen door behind him. “It ain’t meant ta be the Holiday Inn.” He set his one small duffel on the table.

“You pack light,” she commented.

“Only the essentials.” He pulled out a six pack of Molson and a fresh cigar, making himself comfortable at the kitchen table. He looked around the cabin, nodding his head every once in awhile. “Not bad. Ain’t as nice as mine, but--”

“You have a cabin?”

Logan popped the tab on one of the six beers, slurping up the foam. “Yup.”

“Oh.” Ororo glanced around the open room. “I suppose it would be too much to assume there is indoor plumbing and a bathroom.”

Logan chuckled. “It ain’t that rustic, angel. I’m sure there’s a bathroom. Hell, there’s even a light switch right behind ya.”

Feeling like a complete moron, Ororo flicked the switch she had overlooked. An old iron chandelier flickered to life, illuminating the room in a soft golden hue. It was then she saw something that made her breath catch. In the darkest corner of the cabin, pressed along the back wall was a horrific sight. A narrow bed. One single, narrow bed.

Following her gaze Logan felt his body thrum to life. Desire raged instantly, pooling hot and hard in his groin. He slowly rose to his feet, walking back towards her, towards his tormentor.

Ororo felt her insides tremble at his approach. There was no mistaking the glimmer in his dark eyes, nor the way his pants seemed tighter than before. She shook her head slowly, unable to voice anything due to the tightness of her entire body.

Fathomless black orbs glittered at her. “’Ro…” Logan growled. Large hands framed her face, his thumbs skimming her bottom lip. “Let me taste you.”

Heatedly their mouths merged, and Ororo couldn’t say who actually initiated the kiss, because it was like being consumed and engulfed in flames. The passion was intense.

His hands moved and his blunt fingers traced the line of her jaw, down along the slender column of her neck, dancing along her collar bone until they skimmed over her breasts through the cotton of her shirt.

Ororo tried to form a coherent thought, but failed miserably, her body moving restlessly. The sensations sweeping through her were new and unexpected.

Logan leaned back, his midnight gaze holding hers. He cupped her breast through her shirt, his thumb flicking her nipple. Ororo moaned, her body arching into his touch. He smiled, slow and lazy, and knowing. “You want me,” he groaned. “No use denying it, Storm.” He leaned in close, his mouth skimming hers with each word of harsh truth he gave her. “I can smell it on ya. You want me ta fuck ya.”

She gasped at his crude remark, and onceagain as his hand found it’s way beneath cotton to touch bare flesh. Logan pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the erect nub back and forth. “Go ahead. ‘Ro. Deny it. Lie ta me.”

She weakly tried to push him away, frustrated that her entire body felt like melted wax . “I don’t want…” She was unable to finish as her words and breath were stolen as Logan’s hot mouth replaced his hand on her breast. Involuntarily she reached for him, her fingers threading through his thick ebony hair holding him to her.

Logan laved her toffee colored nipple adoringly, nipping the tender bud between his front teeth, exhaling a slow puff of air, cooling her then licking again. The throaty little sounds she was making were driving him mad. Lifting his head reluctantly from her tantalizing chest, he pulled her face to his, baring his fangs at her in warning before claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue demanded access and she was helpless to resist him, the pleasure his touch caused, scorching her.

He groaned, pulling his jacket off and tossing it aside hastily. “I tried,” he muttered, to no one in particular.
“Heaven help ya, ‘Ro, I tried not to want this.” He pressed her against the door frame, letting her feel his thick erection pressed into her abdomen.

Ororo was lost in a sea of sensual pleasure. She had no idea what Logan was saying, and to be honest, she didn’t really care. His teeth nipped at her lower lip and he growled at her, his dark eyes locking with hers in a battle of wills. He tugged her shirt over her head, baring her upper body completely to his heated gaze.

“Christ, ya’ve got the most incredible tits,” he breathed, his palms lightly skimming the tight peaks.

Ororo struggled for sense, for rationality, but all she could find within herself was a raging desire to be his. “Wolverine…I can’t. I need…to think…”

His response was muffled against her neck. He bit her along the tendon, nipping her shoulder and lower, his days growth whiskers scratching the over sensitized skin of her stomach. -SNIKT- Her belt was sliced away. One long, solitary claw traced the seam of her pants, rending them apart. He gripped the sides of her revealed panties, tearing the lace garments off in his haste.

Logan’s cock jerked compulsively at the erotic sight Ororo presented. With her long snow hair, and earthy skin and scent of rain she was the physical personification of nature. A wood nymph, sent to lead him to his doom, and fuck if he cared. The sight of her snowy curls against her dark skin sent waves of excitement through him. He reached out with slightly trembling hands and cupped her sex, his thick fingers probing her moist nether lips.

Ororo’s hips moved on their own, her body undulating into his palm, and strange foreign sounds of lust and want were coming from her throat. Her brain screamed at her to stop this, to stop him, but as he nudged her thighs apart all she could do was open eagerly for him, like a flower to the dawn. She cried out brokenly as he stroked her, causing a slick heat to pool in her groin.

“Fuck, baby, yer so fuckin’ wet,” Logan grunted. Unexpectedly she felt him against her sex, his mouth and tongue probing, lapping her most secret place
aggressively. “Taste…so good.” His whiskers tickled her thighs.

Ororo shuddered uncontrollably. She could feel her defenses wavering, her carefully constructed walls of preservation were coming down and every known and unknown repressed feeling she’d ever held for him in the darkest recess of her mind were spilling forth, tearing at her heart.

Logan made a low sound, and he pulled Ororo’s knees over his shoulders, pressing her back firmly against the wall. At her shocked gasp he grinned against her soft curls. “I wanna feel ya come on my face,” he rumbled.

Ororo shivered with need, but managed to shake her head. No. This wasn’t right. But then why did it feel so damn good? “Y-yes.”

Logan knew a momentary triumph. She was beyond ready for him. He could smell her, with his nose buried in her silky curls. She smelled like earth and rain, and now the spicy tang of a woman in heat. He licked along her clit, and she jerked violently. It was an involuntary response on her part, he knew, but it was a damn pleasant one. He repeated the laving process over and over, lapping her sweet juices, and causing her body to writhe in uninhibited passion. He almost came in his pants as she rode his face, lifting and sitting away from the wall in time with his tongue.

Ororo was mindless, the pleasure she was feeling almost painful. She made a defeated sound, somewhere between sob and moan. “I can’t…” she moaned.

Logan rubbed his fingers over her slick folds, saturating them in her essence. He slid them along her crease, his index finger probing the tight opening at her rear.

Ororo stiffened.

He slid his solitary digit in and out of her as his tongue stroked. “Come fer me, ’Roro. Come on my face,” he commanded.

And mindlessly, she obeyed. “Logan!!” she bucked and screamed.

“Yes,” he grunted in satisfaction, his teeth clamping on her engorged clit, making her cry out in pain. He locked his arms around her thighs when she would have retreated. He tugged the little pearl, grunting as her fluid drenched the lower portion of his face.

Ororo was still trembling with her first orgasm when Wolverine lifted her and roughly placed her face down in the floor, jerking her hips into the air. With an impatient grunt he unfastened his jeans, not bothering to remove them completely, instead jerking them to his thighs.

She only had time enough to glance over her shoulder and see his lips draw back in an brutal snarl as he ravaged her body in one excruciating, quick thrust, tearing her. She screamed at the unexpected invasion, trying to crawl away from him.

“Too late now, babe,” he grunted, thrusting in and out of her, his pace hard and frantic. He fisted her long hair in one hand, holding her upper body down, while the other hand locked on her hips, keeping her ass end raised to his plunging cock.

Ororo’s nails tore splinters from the wood beside her cheek. Tears began streaming along her cheeks as she felt his balls slapping her ass as he pounded and pounded into her, his growls of pleasure making her stomach tighten. Her mind and body warred with each other. Despite her fervent wish otherwise, her body delighting in his piercing possession, while her conscious shrieked at her. Her heart also warred, the darkest part wanting to believe that something that felt this good and this right must mean more to him as well. It wasn’t just a fuck. It was more, right?

Logan had never felt anything like being inside of Ororo. The scent of her release as well as the fresh scent of blood drove him on. He hammered, and thrust. Deeper, harder, faster. Fuck, she was tight. So fucking tight and wet. And hot. Like paradise. He grunted, and growled, his teeth bared. He wanted more. He was fucking her as har and as fast as he had ever fucked anyone and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to take her as himself.
Completely. He almost laughed out loud at the sheer idiocy of such a thing, but he was unable to make any sounds aside from the rough growls of pleasure emitting from his chest.

With a savage snarl he gripped her throat, yanking her back against the hard wall of his chest, his heated breath rasping in her ear. “I could fuck you forever! Yer so-hur-tight-ughn-so-hur-fuckin’ perfect.” He reached around, holding her jiggling breasts as his thrusts became even more powerful, threatening to cleave her in two. He latched onto her shoulder, his fangs piercing her skin and he came forcefully as Ororo’s coppery fluid teased his tongue. Jesus! His upper lip curled, revealing his sharp canines, still red from her blood, as his muscles tightened and corded as he orgasmed for what felt like an eternity, but was over far too fast.

Ororo moaned, her tender passage sore, but he continued to slam into her, and the Goddess forgive her, she didn’t want him to stop…

His voice was as hoarse and guttural as a wild animal as he ground out, “Yer the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.” He slowly withdrew from her body, then padded silently towards what could be assumed was the bathroom.

Ororo lay unmoving on the floor, her breathing still labored and tears still flowing. She closed her eyes, welcoming the dark s she faded into blissful oblivion.

Ororo opened her eyes to a low lit room, made cozy by a warm fire in the black iron stove. She lifted her head little by little from it’s cushioned resting place, seeking out Logan, who was no where to be seen. She was confused to find herself lying in the small bed in the corner of the cabin, with worn but clean blankets covering her naked form. She held the covers to her chest as she sat up, wincing at the lingering soreness between her legs. Cautiously she raised the blankets covering her, not really clear as to why she expected to look any different, but she certainly felt it. The first thing she noticed was that she was clean. No blood or semen marked her thighs. She flushed. Logan…must have--? The screen door rattled shut causing her to hastily pull the blankets to her chin.

Logan shook his dark head, dislodging the light powder of snow that was covering his hair and shoulders. He placed a brown paper bag onto the kitchen table and tugged off his leather jacket, hanging it from a small set of antlers on the wall. He pulled out a frying pan and several miscellaneous food items before sensing that he was being watched. Slowly he turned towards her, a probing look on his face.

Ororo once more felt a heated flush creep along her skin and she averted her eyes.

Logan cleared his throat. “I got some grub. You hungry?”

She was about to decline when she felt her stomach rumble. “I, um, I could eat.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer. He gave her a curt nod before returning to unpacking the rest of the bag’s contents.

Once his back was to her, Ororo rose from the bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. She grabbed one of her two duffels from the floor beside the bed and hurriedly headed for the bathroom.

Logan busied himself putting the food away, trying not to look over his shoulder at the enchantingly disheveled and thoroughly ravished Ororo Munroe as she made her way down the narrow hall.

The passion that had flared between them earlier had not been entirely unexpected, after all, he had wanted to fuck her since he saw her wet and dirty in the Amazon. What was unexpected was his actions towards her. It wasn’t their bout of rougher than usual sex, in fact, he was known for being borderline violent in bed. Jeannie could attest to that. It was what he had done on a subconscious level that prompted his need to get away from her. He had marked her.

As he had come down from his intense climax, Logan had noticed the bloody teeth marks on her shoulder and tasted the tangy sweetness of blood in his mouth. He had withdrawn immediately and gone to the bathroom. Leaning over the stand alone sink he had rinsed his mouth with cold water, not wanting to think about the implications of his instinctive action.

He’d playfully nibbled countless women, nipped skin and left lovebites, but this was different. Ororo’s mark was no playful lovebite. It was a statement. He had laid claim to her on some primitive level that he himself didn’t fully comprehend.

When he had emerged from the bathroom he had been concerned to find Ororo still lying limply on the floor. He had rushed to her side, cursing himself for his callous treatment of her. She had been a virgin for fuck’s sake and he had used her like a two dollar whore. When she hadn’t responded to his voice he had rolled her over and swore anew when he saw the tear tracks on her skin. He had lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom where he had washed her while she rested on his lap. She had stirred but not awoken when he had gently cleansed between her legs. He tucked her into the bed and started a fire before leaving her to head back to the small store they had stopped in earlier for supplies. He had left her not only to get supplies, but he needed to clear his head and to remove himself from temptation. Even though he had just had her, he had wanted her again. His body grew thick and heavy as he watched her sleep and he knew if he had stayed she would have woken with him inside of her.

He turned the steaks in the frying pan over with a fork, and as he heard the bathroom door click open he wondered what she was thinking. He cocked his head, studying her approach from where he stood. She had donned a light blue sweater and faded jeans; her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and he frowned. He preferred it free from constraint, wild about her shoulders.

Though she was extremely attractive with flawless skin and a thick mass of uniquely colored white hair, Ororo never preened, never flaunted her looks. Not once could he remember her tossing her hair or batting her lashes with a ‘come hither’ attitude as Jean had done. Never once had he seen her act as though she was too good to mingle with anyone else.

When first they had met, he had been so enthralled with Jean that he hadn’t paid Storm much attention, but looking back he realized she was as much a mystery now as she was then. Who was Ororo Munroe? What secrets did she keep? She was a complete enigma, a puzzle that he suddenly very much wanted to piece together.

Ororo shifted subtly under Logan’s gaze. “What?” she asked, mildly defensive, crossing her arms.

It was his turn to shift uncomfortably. “Food’s almost ready.” He evaded with a grumble.

She nodded, but kept her defensive posture.

Shortly Logan removed the pan from the burner.
“Plates?” she asked still not meeting his eyes.

“Paper ones in the bag.”

Ororo pulled out the plates and the plastic utensils. She tore the wrapping from the plates and set them on the table. She reached back in the bag and pulled out some napkins and a bottle of green tea. She raised her eyebrow, giving Logan a questioning glance.

He shrugged. “That’s the shit ya drink, right?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She finished setting the table.

Logan watched her careful movements and once again silently cursed himself. She was nervous and obviously uncomfortable as a result of what had transpired between them. Why that bothered him so much, he didn’t know, but the fact was it did. “Look, ‘Ro.” He reached for her wrist, clasping it in a gentle, but firm grip. “About what happened earlier--”

Ororo’s jaw tightened painfully. “What happened was a mistake. It never should have happened. It won‘t happen again.” She kept her face turned from his. “Can we eat now?”

Although he had been prepared to admit that he had been rougher than he should have been, even prepared to apologize, Storm’s flat out dismissal of what happened angered him. He reached out, cupping her face in his free hand and forcing her to look at him. “Don’t kid yerself, darlin’. It’ll happen again. And again. And again.” As he spoke he leaned closer to her, his breath fanning her lips.

Her eyes widened slightly. “No,” she breathed.

“Oh, hell yes,” he countered on a growl. Logan lowered his head even as he struggled to lessen his uncontrollable reaction to her. He didn’t want to scare her away, she was as skittish as a wild doe. Ororo’s lips were like silken petals beneath his, soft and moist and slightly parted in surprise. With a low rumble, he deepened the kiss, searching her mouth with his tongue, fanning the smoldering flames of their passion. A soft, plaintive sound came from Ororo and Logan pressed himself fully against her.

Ororo strove to ignore the delicious sensations flooding through her body. Her heart thundered in her head and her legs shook like rubber. “Please…” she pulled back. He was regarding her heatedly, his gaze focused intently on her swollen mouth. It was difficult to form a coherent thought with him staring at her like that.

Under his intense look her mouth grew parched and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Logan bared his teeth in a sensual smile, his pupils darkening and dilating even further. One large hand curved around the back of her head, tugging her back to him.

Expecting another kiss, she was startled to feel his teeth capture her earlobe. She repressed a moan as his tongue flicked the sworls.

“This is…ahhh. a mistake.”

“Mmm.” Teeth scraped her neck.

“We shouldn’t…” Ororo clenched her fingers into his thick hair, a soft sigh escaping.

Very lightly, in the faintest of touches, Logan skimmed the backs of his fingers down her cheeks, unconsciously following the trails her tears had made earlier. His light touch ignited a deep yearning within her. She closed her eyes, inhaling a tremulous breath.

Logan’s seductive mouth moved languorously across her face until he once again claimed her lips. He kept his heated kisses somewhere between chaotic and controlled, rocking her senses.

Ororo felt helplessly intoxicated. She cursed her traitorous body, and him. “This is wrong,” she protested.

Logan nuzzled her throat. “It sure feels right ta me, darlin’.”

Ororo shook her head, her blue eyes earnest. “I don’t want to feel this for you,” she confessed brokenly.

He lifted his head and gray eyes flashed in the shadows. “That feeling is mutual, babe.” He answered honestly. He didn’t want to feel for her either, and he wouldn’t, he told himself. She was just a fuck. Keep it simple, Bub.

Ororo lifted her mouth for his kiss in silent invitation. He needed no further urging. Logan began laying feather light kisses on the corners of her generous lips. They parted with minimal urging and Logan shuddered with desire. He needed to regain control. He could feel it slipping through his fingers. The urge to take her again was pounding in his head, singing in his blood.

Luckily or unluckily, he couldn’t say which, Ororo’s stomach decided to pronounce it’s hunger.

He raised his head slowly, his lips and tongue lingering. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” He pulled out a chair for her.

Ororo sat numbly, placing her fingertips to her still tingling lips. She watched Logan move about the kitchen, fascinated by his natural grace and the way his black shirt hugged and stretched over his muscles.

“Ya keep lookin’ at me like that, and I guarantee dinner will be cold.”

Ororo blushed furiously.

They ate in relative silence, both uncertain as to what the other was thinking.



“No. No contact yet.” Logan paced the floor, speaking into the satellite phone Xavier had sent with them. He glanced at Ororo who was seated in one of the recliners, writing in what appeared to be a journal of sorts. Curious, Wolverine paced behind the chair, only to have Storm turn the book over in her lap and give him a disgruntled look. “She’s fine.” Logan commented, rolling his eyes. “You want verbal confirmation? Are you shittin’ me?” With a half-growl, Logan pulled the phone from his ear and placed it against Ororo’s. “Tell Chuck I ain’t killed ya.”

“Not yet,” she said into the phone. “Give him time.”

Logan tugged on her ponytail, surprising her with the playful gesture. After a few more noncommittal grunts and a few ‘yups’ Logan finished his conversation.

“Well?” Ororo asked. “What’s the plan?”

“There ain’t no plan, darlin’. We wait.” He placed the satellite link-up back into the knap sack he brought it out of. “If Creed isn’t on his way here yet, he will be soon. We just gotta be patient.”

Ororo frowned. “How do we know he isn’t just going to make a run for it when he learns that two people are looking for him?”

Logan sat in the opposite recliner, lighting a cigar. “Couple reasons.”

“Do enlighten me.”

He smirked. “Well, fer one this is his territory. He’ll wanna know who’s on his turf and why.”

“Okay, that’s one.”

Logan tilted his head, his dark eyes steady. “Then there’s you. If Elmer gave him the slightest hint of what a looker you are, he’ll be doubly interested.”

Ororo gnawed her lower lip, contemplating. “I don’t know. I still think we should go look for him. Take the initiative.”

He chuckled. “We ain’t just gonna sit here and twiddle our thumbs, ’Roro, but we aren’t doin’ anything tonight, so relax.”

Relax? With him right across from her, looking unbearably dangerous and sexy? Right.

“I’m gonna do a quick walk around.” Logan stood. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d swear there was genuine concern in the gruff Canadian’s voice. “I’m fine,” she said.

He shrugged. “Have it yer way. You still got the gun I gave you?”

“It’s in the truck.”

“Good place for it.” He was sarcastic.

Ororo narrowed her eyes into sapphire slits. “I don’t like guns. I grew up on the streets of Harlem and didn’t need a gun. I don’t need one now.”

That was her second mention of growing up on the streets. Logan paused in tugging on his jacket. “How long were you on yer own before Chuck found ya?”

Ororo rose from the recliner, she seemed
uncomfortable with the new turn of subject. “Since before I can remember.”

“Hnh. I remember Jeannie tellin’ me that yer folks were gone, but that was about it.”

“Really?” She placed her journal on her duffel. “I’m surprised.”

“What? That Jeannie would tell me?”

“No. That you’d cared enough to remember.”

Logan grimaced. He deserved that he supposed. Truth was at the time he hadn’t cared; had actually brushed the comment off dismissively, pulling Jean underneath him for another bout of feverish sex. He wasn’t about to tell Ororo that though. He finished shrugging into his jacket. “I’ll be back shortly. Don‘t open the door for anyone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not--”

“Anyone.” He interjected before she could argue. He was out the door in the next second.


The cabin was dark when Logan returned from his perimeter sweep. He had made a large circle around the cabin, making certain to touch trees and leave marks. He wanted Creed to know they were there. From the file Xavier had given them, Logan knew that Victor Creed was a feral with some clandestine military training and an issue with authority. Sounded all too familiar to Logan, but he pushed aside his aggravation over his own unknown past and focused on the task at hand. In a little over an hour he had made a five mile circle around the cabin.

Logan didn’t bother with the light. His night vision was more than enhanced enough to make the pitch black no more troublesome than hazy gray afternoon light. He took in the cabin, noticing that Ororo had fallen asleep in one of the recliners. He made his way over to her slumped form. He was reaching out to jostle her awake when he spotted her unattended journal on her duffel.

Straightening, Logan gave the book wary consideration. Reading it would be a blatant invasion of Ororo’s privacy… He flipped the book open.

Journal Entry October 3
Spoke with Henry today. It would seem he has an interesting theory as to why I visit him so often. It amazes me how such a brilliant man can be so unbelievable dumb at times. He can be so very obstinate.

Logan glanced back up at the date. October third. Two days ago. His brow furrowed. He turned the page, slightly confused.

Journal Entry October 5
There comes a time in every person’s life when they must question their sanity. For me, now is that time. I lost my virginity. Well, not so much lost, as I am well aware of who took it, but needless to say it is gone. In all of my romantic fantasies, never in my twenty-two years did I envision myself being taken doggie-style on a dirty floor in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for my first time. I could lie and say I’d never envisioned myself with Wolverine. But I won’t, because that particular fantasy had crossed my mind. Mine and every other breathing female the man has ever crossed paths with I‘m sure. But that was a long time ago. Before Wolverine and Jean were official and before…well, before Hank.
I guess Blue isn’t so crazy after all. I don’t know. I’m confused. I feel completely lost. And so alone.

The entry stopped there, presumably interrupted by his and Xavier’s phone call, and apparently Ororo had decided not to continue it. Logan returned the red leather journal to the top of Ororo’s duffel. He wiped his hands on his jeans before reaching out and shaking her shoulder. Ororo unconsciously leaned into his touch, rolling her face towards him.

Logan tensed, a jolt of heat sliding into his groin, making his cock twitch to life. He took a long, slow breath of air, finding it difficult to breathe. Fuck. He shouldn’t want her this much, it was ridiculous. Even as he thought it, he was crouching beside the chair, finding her parted mouth in the dark.

Ororo sighed contentedly. Logan. She felt a familiar thrum of awareness run through her body. She smiled faintly. As dreams went, this was a nice one. It wasn’t until she felt the slick heat of his tongue, complete with the faintly bitter taste of cigar did she realize that she was not dreaming. “Wolverine…” Ororo grasped his shoulders, her voice distressed.

“I thought we agreed on Logan,” he rebuked, tugging at her lower lip. He started to kiss her again and after a moments hesitation he felt her kiss him back. The strokes of her soft tongue were making him even harder as it dueled with his. Logan heard himself groan, and he reached underneath her legs to knead her tight rear. “You’ve got a great ass,” he murmured. He was pulsing with desire, throbbing with his need for her.

Ororo moaned. “Logan, stop.”

Panting, Logan pulled away from her, but didn’t release her. “What?”

Ororo trembled, shivers racing up her spine at his graveled tone. “What’s happening?”

Logan grinned wolfishly. “I woulda thought that was pretty obvious.”

She shook her head, her blue eyes deeply troubled. “I mean between us. What is this?”

Logan exhaled a pent up breath. “Honestly, darlin’, I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.”

Ororo blinked. She hadn’t really expected him to answer, much less acknowledge that there was indeed something between them.

He continued. “I want you,” he murmured. “You want me. Why overcomplicate it?”

Ororo chewed the corner of her lip pensively. She should protest, shouldn’t she? Wasn’t casual sex something she was against? But there was nothing casual about the way Logan made her feel.

Sensing her vulnerability Logan whispered, “I want ta taste you again, darlin’.”

Ororo shuddered, damp heat entering her core at his heated and sinfully sensual words. Uncertainty warred with desire, with desire the victor. Ororo nodded, nearly imperceptible, but Logan saw it. He smiled up at her reassuringly with more than a hint of mischief.

They made it to the bed in the slow, awkwardly graceful dance of removing each others clothing. Logan gripped the bottom of her sweater and yanked it hurriedly over her head. She did the same to his dark, long sleeved black top. Their pants and other impediments soon followed.

“Take yer hair down,” he rasped against the smooth swell of her breast. He rubbed his whiskered cheek back and forth across the sensitive skin, causing her to inhale sharply at the erotic contrast.

Ororo hastily removed the elastic from her hair, shaking the tumbling mass about her bare shoulders.

“Just like a wood nymph,” he muttered, filtering moonlit strands through his fingers.

Ororo’s own fingers were threading through the crisp black hairs covering his broad, muscular chest. Her hands slid over his skin, sending desire rippling through them both.

His palms massaged their way up her back, his strong fingers invigorating and soothing. He stroked her neck, easing tense muscles. “Relax, baby,” he encouraged. Strong white teeth captured her upper lip playfully, suckling. It was a side of Logan that Ororo was completely blindsided by. Tenderness. It made her want to be more for him than just a screw in the woods on a cold, lonely night. But how? She had no experience, save one.

Ororo swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. “I…I don’t….I may not be any good at this.” She was clearly frustrated by that prospect.

“Hush.” He moved against her, his erection pressing into her bare stomach. “Feel this? I want ya real bad, darlin’. Yer plenty good.” As he spoke his hands continued their soothing circular motions on her back and shoulders until she eased into him, her body soft and pliant. His fingers tangled in her hair.

Growling, he held her immobile as he laid siege to her lips in thorough, erotic exploration. His lips covered her face, from forehead to eyelids, the tip of her nose, even stopping to suck lightly on her chin.

“Ya smell like rain,” he commented, laying her onto the mattress.

His words tickled the curve of her neck as he trailed downward, giving her chills. He dragged his moist tongue down her collar bone, then along the swell of one breast, until he reached a taut peak, which he took into his mouth to lave avariciously.

Her hands threaded through his unruly hair, clutching him to her intimately. “I want to touch you,” she whispered wantonly, surprising herself, and clearly taking Logan off guard if his startled jerk was any indication.

Ororo reached between their bodies, clasping his thick cock in her hand. She blindly moved her fingers along his length, delicately tracing the thick throbbing vein .

Logan grit his teeth, hissing a labored breath. Fuck.

His excitement excited her and she increased the pressure of her grip.

He buried his face in her hair, moaning. “’Ro…”

She wrapped her fingers around the pulsing head of his dick but her placed his hand over hers, halting her movements.

Logan could hear his blood thrumming through his veins, and the dull thud of his heart echoed like thunder in his head. She was bringing him back to the brink, and he needed to stop her. He was too close to the edge as it was.

“We’re gonna take this nice and slow, darlin’.” He changed position, parting her thighs and settling between her long legs. He moved against her, the thick head of his shaft rubbing her opening. Ororo gasped, biting her lip. “Ya like that, don’t ya?”

Unable to restrain herself Ororo curved against him, silently begging for his entry. He drew back, teasing her, making her writhe as he flicked his fingers over her.
“How about this?” he slid two fingers into her, easing them in and out in slow, steady strokes.

Flames licked up her body and Ororo clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. She reached behind his head, pulling him down to her, kissing him aggressively, her teeth nipping his lips.

She took his breath away. With a growl he pressed himself forward. “I’ve got ta have ya, ‘Ro.” He pushed against her, sliding his heavy length inside her, stretching her and filling her to bursting.

As Logan began to move, the full feeling expanded as he buried himself to the hilt. Ororo clutched at his shoulders, lifting her hips from the bed to meet each of his deep strokes.

Logan increased his rhythm, thrusting deeper, relentlessly driving towards their goal.

Small sounds of lust were breaking from her lips as a tightness coiled inside her, a tension that mounted and mounted, making her want to sob with frustration. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it for one more minute of it, her entire body clenched, the coil releasing and waves of fire washed over her. Indescribable pleasure rippled over and over and over her.

Logan continued his deep thrusts, and was rewarded when Ororo arched beneath him, a second orgasm making her claw his back, leaving crimson streaks as she screamed his name.

Ororo trembled in the aftermath of the white hot pleasure that brought tears to her eyes and had wrung Logan’s name from her. She felt him stiffen then, his thrusts deep and hard as he found his own release. She felt a shudder run through his powerful body as he roared her name into the night.

After which both were left speechless. They lay in the dark; neither willing to break the silence; neither willing to let go of the other.

“Look alive, darlin’.”

Ororo peeked up from her belly flat position on the floor, where she had several maps laid out, as Logan entered the cabin, the first fingertips of gray dawn visible over his broad shoulder. She was momentarily struck speechless by the ruggedly handsome picture he presented with his days growth beard and his well worn jeans fitting like a second skin over thick muscled thighs, a look made complete by his faded leather jacket. The man was way too appealing by far, she decided. “What is it?” she asked clearing her throat.

Logan dusted his shoulders before removing his weather beaten hat. “Victor Creed.”

She sat upright. “He’s here?”

“Not yet. ‘Bout two miles south, southeast. Headin’ this way.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I can smell ‘im.”

Ororo raised a brow. “Really?”

Logan smirked at her curious expression. “Really.” He gave the maps a glance. “What’re ya doing?”

“Studying the area.” She returned her gaze to the maps. “I like to know my way around.”

“Hnh.” Logan crouched beside her. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I won’t let ya get lost.”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “Trust a man to follow directions? No thank you.”

Logan’s teeth appeared in a seductively feral grin and his graveled voice took on a lustful rumble. “I can take directions real good. Remember last night? When you were panting in my ear ‘harder, Logan, faster, Logan…’.”

Heat flooded Ororo’s face, which only made him chuckle. She held up her hand, her index finger and thumb nearly touching. “I am seriously this close to hating your guts,” she told him, striving to remain unflustered by his close proximity.

He snorted back another chuckle as he stood. “I’ll deal.”

Ororo saw his grin broaden before he turned away and she bit back an answering smile as well as several cuss words. The man certainly enjoyed irritating the shit out of her.


~~~~~~~

Two miles southeast of the rustic cabin that Wolverine and Storm had made camp in Victor Creed, better known as Sabertooth, pulled a long range walkie-talkie out of the dark green pack he was carrying. “He’s here.”

Static, then. “You’re sure it’s him?”

Sabertooth ran his hand along the rough bark of a weathered tree, noting the claw marks. His lips curled back, revealing jagged teeth and long canines. It was a blatant challenge if ever there was one. “I’m sure.”

There was a long silence from the other end. “Bring him in.”

“He ain’t just gonna come quietly.” Sabertooth stated a nasty snarl on his face.

“No he won’t. You have your orders, soldier. Take down Wolverine, by any means necessary. We‘ll do the rest.”

“Why don’t ya’ll just fly in and napalm his ass?”

“You scared, Creed?”

“Fuck you.”

“We can’t fly in because he’d hear us coming long before we could get to him. We put a lot of effort getting that freak Xavier to come looking for you. You should feel honored he sent Wolverine.”

“Whatever. I don‘t see what‘s so fuckin‘ special about the guy.”

More static, and then a new voice on the line. “Do not make this a pissin’ contest, Sabertooth. Yer a piss poor match up for Wolverine. Be smart. Do not go hand to hand with him or we’ll be pickin’ up little bits o’ your sorry ass for days. Ya hear me?”

Sabertooth fought for self control. “I hear.”

“Good. Now, stop asking questions and go do your fucking job. Over and out.”

Sabertooth crushed the walkie-talkie in his hand. “Pussies,” he growled. Tossing the remains of the communicator aside, he picked up his rifle and loped into the dense forest, a savage smile on his lion-like face.

~~~~~~~

Logan swallowed a mouthful of beer, re-reading the dossier on Victor Creed. He could feel an inking of remembrance twitching in the back of his mind, a feeling all too familiar and frustrating. He crushed the can in his hand.

Sensing his mood, Ororo stood. “Well, I don’t know about you but I don’t want to be closed up inside here all damn day.” She opened her cabin door and a cold blast of air greeted her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of freshly fallen snow.

Logan watched her predatorily and felt his gut clench.

“Is it always so beautiful up here?” she asked softly.

For a moment he didn’t answer.

She turned towards him and he was struck by the vividness of her baby blues. “Logan?”

“It’s nice enough up here.”

She smirked. “But not as nice as your cabin, right?”

He pulled out a cigar. “Maybe I’ll show ya sometime and you can judge for yerself.”

Ororo’s mouth fell open slightly, but then she lifted one shoulder indifferently. “What makes you think I would even want to see your cabin?”

Logan grunted, fighting the urge to laugh. Honest to God, the woman was as infuriatingly pig headed as he was. Being with Ororo was like being in a sparring match, and she was intent on not letting him gain an inch.

She yawned into her hand, still not fully awake. “How long before--”

“Sh.” Logan stood, his eye narrowing as he peered past Ororo; he heard movement and caught a glimpse of glowing yellow through the leaves about thirty feet away. His shoulders tensed. “Move away from the door, Storm.”

Ororo didn’t have time to react to his words. One second she was enjoying the cool breeze on her face and the next she was flat on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs and her head cracking against the floor under Wolverine’s tackle.

“Wolverine!” She struggled beneath his heavy weight.

Bullets hit the ground, splintering the wood beside her head, spitting bits into her hair. Wolverine reached around her, rolling them and kicking the door shut. “Stay down,” he growled into her ear, leaning over her, shielding her.

Glass shattered to their right and Ororo was horrified to see a grenade bounce along the floor, rolling to a stop under one of the recliners.

“Fuck! Go, go, go!” Wolverine jerked her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her, throwing himself backwards through the kitchen window as the grenade exploded with substantial force, sending them tumbling along the snow covered ground.

Ororo cried out as pieces of broken wood and glass embedded themselves in her thigh and arm. The explosions separated her and Logan she realized, rolling to her stomach and peering through the fallen strands of her hair to where Wolverine was rising, all six claws extended.

Logan glanced around, sniffing the smoky air, picking up a multitude of mixed smells. The fucker was using some sort concealing spray, jumbling his scent. Whoever it was, and he assumed it was Creed, firing on them was close; he could hear them crashing through the brush.

“You still alive, Wolverine?” A rough voice called out just before another barrage of bullets struck the cabin. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” There was a lengthy pause. “I guess Floyd wasn’t lyin’. You ain’t alone, eh? That ain’t just yer blood I’m smellin’.”

Wolverine gave Storm a startled look. She grimaced as she rose to her knees, blood soaking through her jeans. She shook her head, mouthing, “I’m fine.”

Ororo watched Logan’s face and she felt her muscles tense. She wasn’t liking the look of grim determination appearing on his blood smeared face. He was going to make a stand, she could feel it. He was not about to back down. A bullet hit him in the chest, knocking him back a step. His only response was a muffled grunt and then he straightened, sniffing the air. Two more bullets found a home in the sinewy muscle of his leg.

Ororo scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain lancing through her thigh, reacting automatically. She started to run towards Wolverine, unable to watch as he was riddled with bullets. Sensing her movement, Wolverine whirled, grabbed her about the waist, and pulled her against him, using his body as a shield to protect her from the hail of bullets being fired at them.

“Stay down!” he barked, bringing them both down to a crouch.

“Creed?” she asked breathlessly.

He grunted in response. He maneuvered her around a large maple tree beside the cabin. “Go deep into the woods. Stay hidden.”

“I’m as in this as you are,” she said determinedly.

Another grenade exploded, causing one of the walls to completely crumble in on itself. “Don‘t argue, Storm, just fucking do it!” He glanced over his shoulder at the smoldering remains of the cabin. “Trust me, this won‘t take long. I’ll find ya.”

On impulse Storm leaned forward and kissed him forcefully on the mouth. “Be careful.”

He grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m the best there is at what I do.”

Storm staggered to her feet, sprinting into the thicker foliage of the forest. Once she was clear from his line of sight, Wolverine made his way towards the front of the cabin, his movements silent and predatory. Whoever this Creed fucker was, he should consider himself gutted.

Logan made a complete circle of the burning cabin without any sign of the other mutant. A few yards into the woods he found a dumped satchel and dozens of shell casings, but no other sign of the person firing upon them. He picked up the discarded satchel… -Click-

“Fuck!” The world exploded into a fireball of pain.

~~~~~~~~


Her lungs were on fire.

Ororo clawed feebly at the large hand clutching her throat in a death grip, the pressure threatening to crush her larynx and choke her into oblivion. Her vision blurred, causing the snarling face of the angry mutant dangling her off the ground like she was no more than a child to become distorted from lack of oxygen.

Unconsciously her eyes faded white, panic causing the clouds above her to whirl and writhe across the sky. Thunder rumbled overhead.

Sabertooth growled, pulling her face close to his, his fetid breath moistening her lips. “Yer a feisty little piece ain‘t ya, doll baby?”

Though her feet dangled inches from the ground, not allowing for substantial leverage, Ororo kicked out nonetheless, connecting solidly with the soft spot between Creed’s thighs and arching her back to try and break his hold.

“Bitch.” He grunted, his grip on her esophagus lessening slightly and she managed to struggle free, dropping to the ground in a heap, rivulets of blood trickling from the long scratches his claws had made as she escaped.

Ororo heaved great gulps of air into her tortured lungs, the relief making her eyes water. She rolled away quickly, her survival instincts kicking in. The pieces of glass and wood buried in her thigh and arm dug deeper as she stood, but she ignored the discomfort, focusing all of her attention on the lumbering feral stalking her. “Where is Wolverine?” she demanded.

Sabertooth grinned. “Dead.”

She gave a sharp laugh. “It would take more than you.”

The hulking brute tensed. “I’m seriously gonna enjoy teachin’ ya some manners, frail.”

“We just came to talk,” she said, eyeing him warily.

Long incisors glinted as he sneered. “I ain’t the talkin’ type.”

Ororo blinked sweat from her eyes. She needed to render him inoperative as quickly and efficiently as possible and return to the cabin for Wolverine. Clouds rolled overhead, churning and frothing.

Sabertooth looked up, his eyes narrowing, finally noticing that the weather pattern wasn’t a natural one.

“I am asking you to surrender. I don’t want to hurt you,” Ororo demanded as the wind picked up, lashing the trees and howling around them.

Sabertooth cocked his head curiously, almost amused. “Ya gonna huff and puff, and blow me away?”

“Something like that,” she answered. She’d have preferred a lightening strike, but so far in the woods, she didn’t want to risk a forest fire. She’d just have to make due.

A savage roar ripped from Sabertooth as his feet were knocked out from under him by a hurricane gale. With the agility of a great cat he flipped in the air, sinking his talons deep in the ground, grimacing as he was forced farther back, hail striking him in the face, breaking skin in dozens of tiny, annoying cuts. Slowly he reached for his belt, removing the small 22 automatic holstered there. He jerked it and fired as the winds tossed him.

Ororo fell back, the bullet taking her in the shoulder.

Taking advantage of the distraction the hit caused Ororo, Sabertooth took immediate action. With preternatural speed, he lunged forward, clearing the distance separating him from Storm, gripping her by the hair and smashing her face into his knee.

“Playtime’s over.” His smile was triumphant as one beefy fist slammed into Storm’s stomach, doubling her over. He yanked on her hair, leaning into her face, licking the blood trickling under her nose. “Mmmm. Victory tastes so sweet.”

White eyes glowed defiantly. “Fuck you.”

“Now there’s an idea.” One large hand squeezed her breast, his talons digging into the soft swells painfully.

Ororo had never known fear like the terror that flooded her body at his low taunt, his harshly spoken words freezing her blood.

“I see I have yer attention now, don’t I?” He yanked her head back so hard it brought tears to her eyes. “I can smell his stank all over you. Did he fuck ya good, baby? Did he make ya scream? I‘ll make ya scream.””

“Asshole.” she ground out, wincing.

He chuckled. “Defiant, eh? I like that.”

Tilting her chin, Ororo refused to close her eyes as Sabertooth’s large fist descended and cracked against her jaw, rendering her unconscious.


~~~~~~~~~

Blood. Swirling pools of scarlet that painted the walls, clouding his vision until it was all he could see. A crimson veil over his tormented eyes.

Death and darkness.

Waves of rage lapped at him in tides, surrounding him, trying to suck him in. Animal.

Voices rose up, but he couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t make out their muffled words. Agony swamped him, white-hot and burning, more horrific than the depths of hell he was sure. It enveloped him, making him writhe in anguish, in an agony that seemed endless.

Then there was the laughter. Low and mirthless, driving him towards the limits of his sanity.

Pain. There was so much pain. He couldn’t take one more second of it…

Jesus.

Wolverine’s eyes snapped open, a barely repressed roar trapped in his chest. His heart was pounding, echoing in his ears. He lifted his head slowly from the ground. The smell of his own burnt flesh heavy in his nostrils. Fucker set a bomb. Shoulda seen that comin’. Growling against the immense pain shooting through his smoldering body, he stood. In the distance he could hear the steady whump-whump of approaching helicopters. “Good one, Charlie. Send us straight into a fuckin’ trap.”

The dull rumble of thunder drew his gaze skyward, where the once faint grey sky was a writhing mass of angry black clouds. “Storm.” Just as he started in the direction that the clouds spun in, they dissipated, filtering away as though they had never been. An unfamiliar feeling surged through Logan at that sight. Fear.


~~~~~~~~~~

Ororo gradually opened her eyes, blinking as she focused. Everything hurt. Her face felt like it was the size of a watermelon, and she couldn’t move her jaw. Broken, she assumed.

She was still in the woods, she noted, not far from where Sabertooth had originally ambushed her. She tried to turn her head, but realized she was strapped tightly to the trunk of a tree, a thick nylon rope was knotted around her arms, forcing them behind her, as well as wrapped around her throat, keeping her head facing forward. She winced against the dull ache in her shoulders. The bark scraped her skin when she tried to tug against the restraint.

A rough voice right behind her ear stopped her movements and turned her blood cold. “I gotta say, yer spirited fer a frail. Most of the other chicks I meet are whimpering and begging by now. But not you, eh, sweetness? Yer tough as nails, eh? Or so ya think. Ya just wait, doll baby. Ye’ll beg. They all beg.” His low voice was almost soothing, and had his words not been so disturbing Ororo may have enjoyed the sound, much like she enjoyed Hank’s deep, rich voice.

Sabertooth’s right hand reached around the trunk one claw tracing a painful line along her jaw, drawing blood. He brought his finger to his lips, sucking the red bead from his tip and moaning. “Ah, hell yeah.”

Ororo closed her eye, taking a deep nasal breath. Don’t think about gruesome. Think of a way out of this. Focus. You need to get out of this alive, by any means necessary.

When her eyes opened again, they sparked white fire and lightening shot from a clear sky, striking the tree directly above her head.

“Damn it!” Creed snapped, jerking away from her as the bark smoldered. “Big mistake, witch.” His fist slammed into her cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolverine crouched low, running his fingers over the trampled snow. He sniffed, moving forward until he saw bright crimson and dirt on white. He lifted his hand, staring at the stain on his fingers. ‘Roro’s blood. Whether from her leg wound or new ones he couldn’t be certain; either way, the fucker that hurt her was dead. Smothering the impending roar building in his chest, he began stalking his way through the woods, focusing solely on following Storm’s scent.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“It looks like a damn war zone down there,” Ali said, gazing out the window of the Blackbird towards the still smoldering remains of a rustic hunting cabin. One wall was completely blown away, wood and debris scattered into the woods, and the other three had collapsed in on themselves.

“Oh no.” Kitty had covered her mouth with her hands, tears welling in her large brown eyes as she stared out the jet’s window in horror at the wreckage below.

“Mein Gott,” Kurt whispered, crossing himself.

Marvel Girl swiveled in her seat, casting the team an irritated, but worried look. “You guys need to calm down. I can’t focus with so much yelling in my head.”

“Jean--” Cyclops gestured toward the window.

Two black Comanche helicopters flanked the hovering jet.

“X-MEN, this is General Nick Fury.” A deep baritone voice sounded over the Blackbird’s radio. “You are in S.H.I.E.L.D jurisdiction. Remove yourselves.”

“No fucking way, buddy.” Ali muttered.

“Immediately.” Came the repeated command.

Jean gave Scott a worried look. “What now?”

“Get a hold of the Professor, Jean. I’ll try and buy us a few minutes.” Cyclops spoke into his comm. “General Fury, this is Cyclops. We require confirmation of your credentials.”

“Son, I am the head of S.H.I.E.L.D, I answer to the President of the United States directly and only to him. Now, remove yourselves from the area or we will be forced to view your incorporation as a hostile act and remove you ourselves.”

“We could be of assistance,” Cyclops replied.

“This is a S.H.I.E.L.D matter, son, and it is none of your concern.”

“With all due respect, General, we have teammates in the area, and we are making it our concern. Until their whereabouts and safety are confirmed my team will remain here and combat ready. Acknowledge.”

Ali whistled. “Those be some new brass balls you’re showing off, Cyke?”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t get us blown up, “ Bobby commented.

After a longer than comfortable silence from the helicopters, Fury’s voice came over the speakers. “Acknowledged. You have permission to find and extract your teammates, should you be able to locate them.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ororo came awake to the sound of rending cloth. She flinched when she realized that her right breast was bared , her shirt shredded and Creed was flicking his thumb across her nipple as he hovered over her, his grunts sickening her.

“Gonna fuck ya good.” She heard him growl as he yanked her pants down her legs, further aggravating the wound she had there. “Make ya beg.”

She tried to scream, but couldn’t. Everything seemed foggy, and dreamlike, yet terrifyingly crystal clear at the same time. Stop! She felt tears in her throat as her underwear was ripped away, the elastic gouging a faint line into her hip.

“Holy shit,” Creed groaned, his hungry gaze on her snowy curls. He rubbed himself through his pants, closing his eyes. “I can already feel ya, doll. Bet yer fuckin’ sweet.”

Ororo kicked her feet weakly, trying to scramble away from the hands reaching for her ankles. “Get off of me!” she yelled, her voice finally working. She struggled ineffectually beneath his massive frame.

Creed grinned at her. “Ya gonna beg?”

Ororo immediately closed her mouth, her tear-filled eyes meeting his amber ones boldly.

He leaned close, his claws piercing her as he jerked her legs apart, his tongue swirling against the blood on her thighs. “Mmmm. Gonna fuck ya good and hard.” He laughed again.

Hot tears spilled over the gashes on her cheek, the salty droplets stinging. Nonononononono…Please, no….please…stop…please… She sat silent, internally begging for the mercy she would never ask of the monster unzipping his pants.

Sabertooth’s teeth shone in the dense shadows as he stroked his thick erection. “Do me a favor and scream,” he growled looming over her.

NO! NOOOOOOOOOO! This is not real, this is not real, this is not real!

Feeling helpless Ororo screamed, raw and broken, as she felt Creed enter her.

“Ah, yeah, babe. Scream fer me. Daddy likes.”

Lightening! Fry his ass! Do something! Her body seemed unwilling to obey her mind‘s insistent commands, instead she went slack, closing her eyes. Logan! I’m sorry I‘m not stronger, Logan…I love you… The world went dark.

“Ororo!”

The massive mutant pinning Storm to the ground was brutally torn away from her by the three hundred pound man that had launched himself forcefully at him, all six claws slashing.

Never in his life had Wolverine wanted to kill anything or anyone more than he wanted to the man laying on the blood soaked ground in front of him. Seeing this animal on top of Ororo had snapped something in him. Wolverine extended and retracted his claws, as though flexing.

Sabertooth growled, blood dribbling along his chin as he struggled to keep his intestines in his gut. “She was…tight…must have a small…cock…runt…”

All pretense of composure was lost in that instant and Wolverine was completely consumed. Consumed by a rage that both exhilarated and terrified him. Claws slashed and blood sprayed; Snarls were met with grunts and growls with roars. A haze of red settled over Wolverine, his mind completely berserk as he slashed and slashed and slashed.

His chest was heaving when he stopped, blood and meat dripping from his claws. Wolverine gave the mass of hamburg looking man at his feet a contemptuous sneer. A soft sound broke his killing haze and he turned to see Ororo laying limply against the tree, several ropes holding her down.

Wolverine took a step towards her, his face tightening. He wiped shaking hands on his tattered, burnt jeans before he crouched beside her, cutting the ropes in one clean slice. He swore raggedly, tearing the nylon away from her neck. Logan wrapped her close, holding her as he fought the urge to scream. “I’m sorry, ‘Roro. So sorry.” He whispered into her hair.

It wasn’t until he heard the click of guns being readied did he realize they were not alone. He shifted position, blocking Ororo from view. He gave the men standing at the ready, guns pointed at his chest, their laser lights dead center a single word warning. “Leave.”

“Stand down, men.” Nick Fury said with quiet authority, coming up behind the soldiers, flanked by Cyclops and Jean. “Logan.”

“Fury.” There was no shift in Wolverine’s stance, giving the men pause.

“Here.” Nick pulled a gray blanket from one of the men’s packs and held it out to Logan. “For the girl.”

Not even a twitch in posture.

Jean took the initiative, grabbed the blanket and started forward.

“Lay it down, Jeannie. And leave. All of you.” He ordered.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Fury said. “We need to collect what’s left of Creed.”

Wolverine snorted. “Ground chuck. Now beat it.”

“Creed was inside Weapon X,” the General said smoothly. “Given his mutant abilities and military connections, I’d say you two have quite a bit in common, including an unprecedented healing factor. He may survive. I‘d like to question him if he does.”

Seeing Wolverine’s dark look, Jean telekinetically sent the blanket behind him to where Ororo was hidden by his bulky frame. “Gentlemen, surely you can afford them some privacy.” She gave the bloody mass that once must have resembled human a glance, turning away quickly as her stomach rebelled. “I don’t think your Mr. Creed is going anywhere, General.”

Fury looked at Logan.

“You owe me,” Logan growled.

Nick nodded. “Five minutes.” He and his soldiers turned away, walking back the way they came.

Jean grabbed Cyclops’ arm. “Come on,” she said quietly.

“But--”

Jean shook her head, her green eyes imploring. “Trust me.”

***

Jean glanced up from her task of meticulously removing shards of glass from Ororo‘s arm when she heard the hydraulic doors hiss open.

“How is she?” Logan asked. He had showered and changed into clean clothes, not wanting to see Ororo stained in her attackers blood.

Jean exhaled, placing the tweezers she was using into a silver dish filled with antiseptic. “As well as can be expected.” Jean removed the mask she wore and the cap from her head, standing.

Logan inhaled sharply at his first clear look at Ororo’s injuries. Her entire face seemed swollen and bruised. She had a nasty split lip, a gash on her left cheek and dark circles forming under her eyes from her broken nose. The arm laying across the white blanket covering her naked form was scraped and bruised. A visual of Ororo screaming beneath Creed filtered through his mind, making him pause. Logan cleared his throat. “Did he--?”

Jean rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “There was trauma that would indicate… rape, but no fluids.” She had a hard time saying the words.

Logan nodded, his fists clenched at his sides. “What else?”

“She took substantial blunt force trauma to her head, fractured arm, stitches needed in her thigh and neck, two cracked ribs, broken nose, dislocated jaw, lacerations to her wrist…” Jean listed the injuries automatically, tiredly.

“You should get some rest, Red.” Logan said, his gaze never leaving Ororo. “I’ll stay with her.”

“She’s been heavily sedated,” Jean said, indicating the IV drip in Ororo‘s arm. “But call me if she wakes.”

Jean was at the door when she turned and gave him a long look. She pressed a finger to her temple. “Logan,” Jean whispered, then so softly he almost didn’t catch it. “She was screaming for you.” The doors hissed shut.

Logan felt his stomach kick in a mixture of guilt and an as yet unidentified emotion. He pulled the swivel stool Jean had vacated alongside the bed, absently brushing his fingers through Ororo’s long, silken hair. His dark eyes glittered in the under the lights. He ran the tips of his fingers gently over her face, touching her ear and the pad of his thumb caressing her lower lip. Even battered she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Today’s events had made one thing very clear to him. His feelings for Ororo Munroe were based in far more than simple lust.

“I’m here, darlin’.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yer safe.”

Deep in her unconscious state, Ororo retreated further into the dark.

Wind rustling leaves.
Snow on the ground.
Heartbeat.
Someone stalking her.
It was happening again.
Terrified.
Helpless. Helpless. So helpless.
Violated.

A boom of thunder jarred Ororo awake. She winced against the bright flash of light filtering through unfamiliar lace curtains. The thunder finished its raucous rumble, rattling the windows. She pressed her head back into the pillow and covered her eyes with the back of one hand, for a moment refusing to move.

She was shaking and soaked with sweat. Just a dream, Storm. Get a grip. Only a stupid dream.

She hated reliving her helplessness, the dreams robbing her of her of any defenses, forcing her to relive that stark terror, her weakness.

Wearily she glanced up at the clock on the wall; 9:15 pm. Damn it. She had asked the desk clerk for a 7 pm wake up call. With an resigned groan, Ororo shifted position, gasping at the razor-sharp twinge in her side that soon progressed to a full scale body ache. She leaned over the bed, fumbling for her small black and silver duffel and the bottle of painkillers stuffed inside.

Shakily she twisted the cap, and hurriedly pushed two Vicodin past dry lips, following them with a swig from the lukewarm bottled water that sat on the bedside stand. With a soft oomph she lay back on the rumpled bed sheets, waiting for the pain in her face and ribs to lessen.

When the hurt became tolerable she rolled to her feet and padded barefoot across orange pile shag carpet towards the small, standing room only, bathroom of her motel room. She closed the door behind her out of habit, not bothering to flick on the overhead light. She knew what the mirror above the sink would show her. She didn’t need the physical reminder of her own frailty. She tossed the small duffel onto the toilet seat.

Leaning against the wall she took several deep breaths, concentrating on the exhale. Her entire body shook with the strain of remaining upright. Two weeks had passed since her attack in the woods and still she felt no stronger than she had the day she had awakened in the med lab. With unsteady hands she managed to pull her sweat dampened shirt over her head, panting with exertion by the time she was done. Such a simple task, yet it completely drained her, forcing her to slide limply to the floor. She cursed her own weakness for the hundredth time, swearing softly into the shadows.

Her head made a soft thump against the wall as she leaned it back, blinking her eyes rapidly, trying to dislodge the lump forming in her throat. God how she missed them. Especially Ali. Ali and…Logan…


***
Two weeks ago

Why the hell was she so sore? Ororo blinked, confusion furrowing her brow, then unwelcome, reality stepped forward and bitch slapped her in the face, causing her to stifle a scream of rage and fear. Slowly she calmed herself, making an effort to regulate her breathing and keep the lingering darkness at bay. Focus.

She wasn’t in the woods.
She was back at Xavier’s.
She was in the med-lab. She was on a bed.
She was…not alone.
She turned her head, gazing at the room’s other occupant.

Logan was seated bedside with his head bent so that his whiskered chin rested on his chest, asleep. One muscular arm was curled across his middle, while the other was stretched out towards her, his large, warm hand clasping her limp one.

She removed her hand slowly.

Logan jerked awake, his eyes immediately and intensely focused on her. “Hey,” he said after a moment, for lack of anything else.

Ororo tried to move, finding it difficult to do so.

“Easy, darlin’.” Logan reached for her, helping her sit upright. “Here.” He poured her a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the nightstand, tilting the cup to her parched lips.

She gulped the water greedily, lifting her hands to take the glass from him. She swallowed painfully, her throat unusually dry.

“Drink slow.” He recommended. “Yer probably gonna be a bit woozy with all the shit Jeannie’s got ya doped up with.”

She finished the contents in the glass. “Thank you.” Was that her voice? So scratchy?

He nodded. “How ya feelin’?”

She gave him a dubious look.

“Ok, dumb question.” Logan reached out to move a silvery lock hair behind her ear, a familiar gesture that he had performed several dozen times in the past twenty four hours, only to have her shy away from him. His hand dropped to his side.

An uncomfortable silence descended between them.

Logan cleared his throat, his hands curling in on themselves. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Uh, ’Ro--”

“I’d like to be alone.” She interrupted quietly, staring at the far wall. “Please,” she added when he made no response.

He nodded reluctantly. “All right, darlin’, I’ll go let Jeannie know yer awake.”

He glanced back at her over his shoulder before walking from the room, concern evident in his rugged features. Concern and sympathy.

Ororo pressed her lips closed, fighting against the urge to call him back.

***

Present

Ororo rinsed her mouth, swishing away the last remnants of Colgate. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips, straightening. Reluctantly she met her own shadowed gaze in the dim reflection in the mirror. Coward, the girl staring back accused.

Ororo tilted her head to the side, running the tip of her index finger along her jaw, tracing the fading white line that denoted one of Creed’s many claw marks. She flinched, her mind momentarily trapped in pervasive limbo, and Creed’s throaty groan echoed in her ear, amplified in memory. She could still see him sucking her blood from his finger.

Angrily Ororo let her hand fall from her face. Weak. She gripped the edge of the sink. She was so weak. Too weak to save Henry when he needed her, too weak to save herself.

Turning away from the accusing eyes in the mirror, she cranked the knob of the shower. The water was cold, but it didn’t matter. Bending her head forwards she placed the palm of her hand against the smooth beige tile of the shower stall, welcoming the cool cascade of water over her aching muscles. She lifted her face towards the spray, letting the icy water numb her bruises, but even the cold sting wasn’t enough to numb her mind. She blinked droplets from her lashes, wishing she didn’t hurt so much.

***

Twelve days ago

“You sent us into a fuckin’ trap!” Wolverine was snarling as he paced the Headmaster’s Office, his upper lip curled, revealing sharp canines.

Jean and Scott exchanged tense glances.

“Yer supposed to be the most powerful fuckin’ telepath on the planet and you didn’t see that coming?”

“That’s enough, Wolverine. We are all understandably upset by the tragedy that has befallen Storm--”

“Ororo.” Wolverine turned on the man in the wheelchair, his graveled voice deadly soft.

“Excuse me?”

“Her name is Ororo. Not Storm. Storm is some impersonal codename ya slapped on her to make yerself more detached, so ya don’t have ta give a shit when fucked up things like this happen to the kids yer sending out to do yer dirty work.”

Charles folded his hands across his lap. “Ororo,” he inclined his head. “Made her decision. She chose to accept the assignment. As did you. No one could have foreseen such a horrific outcome.”

An adamantium fist slammed into the bricks beside the fireplace, dislodging several.

Scott rose to his feet, but sat when Jean placed a gentle hand on his arm. *What if that was me?*

*I’d never let that happen to you.*

*Scott.*

*I’d probably punch a hole through the moon if that was you, baby.*

*I love you.*

*I love you, too, Jean.*

“She chose?” Wolverine scoffed. “You manipulated her to get the response you wanted. I believe you termed the assignment as non-negotiable.”

“The moment Ororo agreed to become an X-Man, she took on certain responsibilities--”

“Yer actually gonna give me that spiel?” Wolverine’s voice was borderline growl. “I remember Jeannie here telling me that she busted ‘Ro outta jail, so it ain’t like ya gave her a lot of choice back then either. Join or jail. Helluva a lot of options.”

Jean spoke for the first time since the meeting had started. “Wolverine, Sabertooth was an unknown. A potential threat or a potential recruit--there was simply not enough information to know for certain one way or another.”

“Chuck knew enough about that fucker to choose Ororo to lure him. I notice he didn‘t send you into the lion‘s den.”

“Hey!” Scott stood again, his face becoming mottled red. “We all care about Storm. You aren’t the only one wanting to rip someone’s head off, but stop laying the blame on the Professor! It’s not like she was alone. She was with you! You were supposed to protect her!”

All of the fight immediately left Logan in that moment.

“Oh, Logan,” Jean stood, her eyes wide. “He didn’t mean it like-”

He waved her off. He ran one hand through his hair, adding to its disarray. “My apologies, Chuck. I know ya wouldn’t have had her hurt if ya could‘ve helped it.” He turned and walked from the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Below, in the med lab, Logan watched Ororo sleeping for long minutes through the observation glass. He strode through the doors quietly, careful not to wake her. Once at her side his hand hovered over the bare flesh of her arm, but he didn’t touch her.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, darlin’. I know there ain’t no words I can say to make right what was done to ya.” He heaved a weighty sigh. “By that monster…or by me. Just know that I’ll be here to take care of ya, kiddo. I’ll keep ya safe from now on. Rest well, ‘Roro.”

Ororo had waited until she heard the doors hiss shut again before opening her eyes. Kiddo. She cringed against the impersonal nature of that. He thought she needed to be taken care of? Kept safe?

She took a shaky breath., one unwelcome thought persistently dogging her throughout the remainder of the night. He thought she was weak.

The following days had passed in a blur. Visits from Ali and Kurt, flowers from Kitty, Jean and Xavier poking and prodding both physically and mentally, and Logan’s ever constant vigil outside of her room.

He was always there. Attentive and considerate. Kind and platonic. He was the nicest she had ever seen him be, including his time with Jean. She should have been thankful.

She hated it.

***

Present

Ororo grit her teeth as she secured the bandages around her mid section. She exhaled a pent up breath, wiping wet strands of hair off of her shoulders and away from her forehead.

She gripped the edge of the sink, fighting a wave of nausea. Broken ribs sucked.

With a jerk, she opened her bag and tossed the remaining bandages back inside, she then removed one of several maps stored inside and the wad of cash Alison had given her. She sat on the closed toilet seat, running the bills through her fingertips, a faraway look in her cerulean eyes.

***

Ten days ago

“Take it.”

“Ali, this is like three grand.”

“Thirty five hundred. It’ll get you by for awhile.”

Ororo shook her head. “I can’t take your money.”

Ali smiled wanly. “You aren’t. It’s from my parents. Their usual monthly ‘we-feel-guilty-for-having-a-mutant-daughter-that-we-can’t-stand’ allowance.”

“I’ll pay you back.” Ororo said as she wrapped the money in a brown paper bag, placing it on top of her folded clothing. She took a deep breath, her nerves on edge. It was one o’clock in the morning and she was in Ali’s room, preparing to depart.

It had been easy enough to convince Xavier that she didn’t want to be in the med lab anymore, and that she hadn’t wanted to be alone. Both of which were not far from the truth.

Evading Logan had been the hard part. The man was always around. But a call from General Fury a few hours earlier had given Ororo the opportunity she was looking for. Logan wouldn’t be back until morning.

Ali shook her head again, refusing the offer of payback. “Don’t worry about it. Just be safe, Stormy.”

Ororo nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I think you’re a fucking retard for doing this.”

“Then why help me?”

“Because you’re my retard, and I love you. If this is what you need to do to get over what happened, then this is what you need to do.” Ali embraced her carefully. “Be safe,” she repeated.

“I’ll call when I can.” Storm pushed open Ali’s large bay window. She gave Ali an impromptu kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Alison Blaire. You do far more than Dazzle. You radiate.” With that she was gone.

Ali watched Ororo float away, wiping her eyes. She gave a disbelieving chuckle. “Damn bitch made me cry,” she shook her head. Man, she needed a drink.

***

Present

The main room was pitch dark when Ororo finally emerged from the bathroom, the dream evoked thunderstorm long passed.

She set her small bag beside the door atop her larger duffel for easy access while she mentally reviewed where she was heading next. Satisfied that she knew the way, she patted her back pocket, ensuring that her calling card was there. She’d call Ali from the payphone on her way out.

“What the hell are you doin’?”

Ororo went still, afraid to turn around. She did so slowly. In the pitch black darkness she could barely see the bulky form straddling one of two kitchen chairs. Silent as a predator he sat in the shadows, watching her. “Wolverine.”

There was a faint swish as Logan swirled the beer in the bottle dangling from his fingers. “Y’know, I never figured you for the type ta tuck tail and run,” he said almost nonchalantly.

Ororo stiffened. “What are you doing here, Wolverine?”

The scrape of wood on tile told her that he was standing. “Takin’ you home.”

Ororo turned and fumbled for the door knob. If she could get outside, she could fly--SLAM! Her head shot up as a muscular arm appeared alongside of her, slamming the door shut, and Logan’s hard unyielding body blocked her backwards retreat.

“Let me out,” Ororo said between clenched teeth.

“Talk to me.” Logan’s breath stirred the hair beside her ear and for the briefest instance he closed his eyes, inhaling her unique scent. He doubted most people even noticed how she smelled. It wasn’t overt, but subtle, beneath the sandalwood and vanilla, there lay the scent of earth and rain.

Breathing seemed difficult for her. He was close, too close. She wanted to turn into those warm strong arms and cry. To hold him and let him hold her. To bury her face in his neck and know that she was safe…

Weak.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She kept her gaze on the door, her hand on the knob.

“Like hell.” Logan growled. “Why’d you leave?”

“All right, let me rephrase that. There is nothing I want to talk about.”

He tried to turn her away from the door. “Look at me.”

“No.”

He relented, but didn’t back away. His voice was softly gruff when he spoke. “I can’t even begin to understand what yer goin’ through, darlin’. But that don’t mean I can’t listen. Come back to the school, ‘Roro. Ya don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not.”

Logan moved around her and leaned into the door, pressing his back to it. “You don’t have ta pretend.” Unexpectedly, he reached to touch her hair, his fingertips gentle as he brushed it away from her face.

Ororo slapped his hand away, her composure faltering. “You want to know why I left? That’s why!”

Logan took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t think. I won’t touch you--”

Ororo’s voice shook. “Stop apologizing to me. And for crying out loud, stop being so fucking nice!”

Logan appeared startled by the vehemence in her voice. “Come again?”

Ororo spun around, walking to the bed and sitting on the corner. “You.” She waved her hand accusingly. “Stop it.”
He shook his head. “Ya’ve lost me.”

Ororo rubbed her temples wearily. She never should have opened her mouth.

“It’s understandable that you’d be upset after…what happened to you.”

“You mean being raped?”

Logan flinched. “Yeah. But that fucker can never hurt you again. He died.”

Ororo nodded. She had figured that much out on her own the day General Fury called for Logan. After what Jean had told her Logan had done to Sabertooth, she wasn‘t surprised. “The reason I left had nothing to do with Sabertooth.”

Logan ran one hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “Then what the fuck are ya doin’?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

A low rumble came from the shadows. “Ororo. I am trying to be patient, but yer pushin’ it. I’ve spent the past week and a half trackin’ yer ass down, and I’m tired and hungry. Now get yer shit, and let‘s go.”

She rose shakily to her feet. “No.”

“Damn it, ‘Ro. You can barely fuckin’ stand.” He held one hand out towards her. “Come home so I can take care of you.”

Lightening flashed outside and Ororo’s eyes took on an eerie glow. “I don’t need you to take care of me!” she shouted, her composure splintering beneath his gentle concern.

“Calm down.”

“Leave, Wolverine.”

Wolverine snarled, his patience gone. He had spent too many sleepless nights hunting for her, plagued by horrible images to simply shrug and say ‘oh well’ and go back home empty handed.

His heart had damn near exploded from his chest the night he‘d gone back to the Institute only to find out that Ororo was staying with Ali and he was unable to check in on her. The next morning he had been jolted awake by Cyclops bursting through his bedroom door, exclaiming that Ororo was missing.

Dread had warred with anger for the better part of the past week and he was in no mood to have Ororo pull this shit. He stepped directly in front of her. “Not without you.”

She shoved at his chest. “I don’t need you!” Thunder rumbled outside.

“Ya ever think maybe I need you?” he demanded
harshly, gripping her upper arms, surprising both of them.

Ororo blinked. “What?”

Logan released her and took a step back. They stared at each other in the dark. He slowly walked along side of the bed. Ororo followed him with her eyes. She felt the bed dip behind her under his weight, then his arms were slipping beneath hers, circling her waist and his legs moved against the outside of hers. He had enveloped her.

Ororo trembled, her back ramrod straight.

“I think I must have been a good man once.” Logan murmured. He rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling behind her ear. “I don’t remember much, but I think I remember that.” His voice was tinged with faint bitterness. “It’s never been something I talk about. I figure, fuck it, can’t change it, right? Why dwell on it. But then the nightmares come.”

Unwittingly Ororo allowed herself to lean back against Logan, listening to the rough timbre of his voice. “I hate the nightmares,” she whispered.

“Me too.” Logan admitted. “It’s never a good feeling, feeling helpless.”

Logan felt helpless? The Wolverine, mutant of legend, felt helpless?

“In my dreams, I am surrounded by fuckers that torture me, but I can never make out their faces. Just fuzzy blobs. All I can smell is blood, all I can hear is the sound of my on screaming. Sometimes I think it will never end.”

Ororo bit her lip, her chest tightened and her heart ached for the stoic warrior that was willing to bare his soul to help her heal hers. “I hate feeling like that. Helpless and terrified. When Sabertooth attacked me I wanted to fight. I did want to, but instead I...I just gave up.” She pressed her face into his neck. “I was willing to lay there on the ground and die. I felt…so weak. So small.”

“The man was a highly trained killing machine, darlin’. Not many people would stand a chance against that.”

“I could have fried him,” she argued. “I tried to call down lightening, but I missed. I was so scared. All I could hear was my heartbeat pounding in my head. Then he was touching me. Hurting me. I couldn’t move. The ropes were so tight. Then I could feel him…inside…and I felt so helpless. Like my body was no longer my own. I just wanted to die…I think I tried to.”

Logan‘s breathing had become more agitated as she spoke, but otherwise he remained silent as she recalled.

“I should have been more prepared. It’s my fault.”

Ororo tilted her head back against his shoulder, her eyes swimming. “You are not to blame.”

Logan traced his fingertips along her face gently. “Neither are you.”
“I’m supposed to be an X-Man. I’m supposed to be strong.”

“You are.”

“I’m weak.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Look at me, sitting in the dark, crying.”

Without a word Logan laced his fingers through hers, lifting her hand to his whiskered cheek, and the moisture there.

The last vestige of reservation crumbled and Ororo felt deep shudders wracking her body as she cried.

Logan turned her in his arms, swinging her legs over his, cradling her and rocking slightly, all the while holding her close, not saying a word, simply being with her in the dark.

Rain splattered the windows, and wind howled. Thunder rumbled and lightening flashed.

As the last remnants of the storm faded into the night Ororo, who was still cradled in Logan’s arms, whispered. “You're still a good man.”

Ororo lay motionless, in a state of semi awareness, her head resting comfortably on Logan’s broad chest. She must have fallen asleep on his lap. As she recalled the previous evenings events she could feel a dull flush creep over her face. She was mortified to have cried her heart out to Logan the night before. Oh, God.

“Mornin’, darlin‘,” breaking her reverie, Logan’s deep husky voice rasped in her ear, it’s timbre made rougher from sleep.

Ororo wiped her hand across her mouth, sitting up. “Uhm, morning.”

Logan watched her through hooded eyes. “How’re ya feelin’?”

She leaned away from him, her hair falling over her shoulder to veil her face from his view. “Honestly? I feel a bit foolish. I shouldn’t have laid all my baggage on you like I di--”

“Relax, ‘Ro.” Logan propped himself on one elbow, his hair standing about his head in wild points making him seem boyishly endearing and sexy all at the same time. “Ya didn’t lay nothin’ on me that I didn’t want laid there.” He yawned widely getting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. “I gotta piss.”

Ororo felt her lips twitch. He was letting her off easy by not making a big deal about her emotional breakdown. “Logan,” she said as he reached the bathroom door.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Hnh?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded once and entered the bathroom.

When he emerged a few moments later, bladder relieved and mouth rinsed, it was to find the motel door wide open and no sign of Ororo. “Son of a bitch!” With a fierce snarl he raced through the door and out into the parking lot, skidding to a halt when he saw her loading her bags into his Jeep. She gave him a curious look, one silver eyebrow raised.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine,” he grunted.

“Good.” Ororo opened the passenger side door. “Can we stop and grab breakfast? I’m starved.”

Logan scratched the back of his head. “Sure.” He made his way to the Jeep and climbed in. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She gave him a semi smile.

Logan turned the ignition. “Then let’s roll.”


Twenty minutes later

“You missed our exit.”

Logan glanced sideways at Ororo, who at the moment was chewing her egg McMuffin and pointing her thumb back towards a large green sign they had just passed.

Logan rolled his eyes. The woman was a side-seat driver of the worst sort.

“Did you hear me?” She asked between bites of sausage when he didn’t respond. “We just missed our exit.”

Logan reached one hand across the leather seats, wiping a piece of English muffin from the corner of her mouth. “No we didn’t.”

“Uh, yeah, we did.” she countered, a small furrow appearing between her finely arched brows. A sign of irritation on her part. “New York’s two days drive thatta way, big guy.”

Logan smirked and adjusted his sunglasses. “I know. Trust me.”

Ororo gave him her patented enigmatic smile. “If you say so.”

Giving in to temptation Logan brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek before returning his gaze to the road. It was the first intimate touch he’d given her in weeks, and just that small, momentary contact stirred him. He inhaled slowly, clearing his head. She needed to make the first step. It was her call.

Last night in the motel, seated on the single bed with Ororo’s head tucked under his chin and talking until the wee hours before dawn, Logan had made a decision of his own. He had decided that the two of them needed some time. To heal. To bond. To be.

Ororo had poured her heart out to him, confessing between strangled sobs how hard it had been for her to feel helpless. It had broke his heart to hear the catch in her voice as she described how terrible it had been for her in the woods with that animal.

He had been more than a little surprised to learn that the rape itself was not what was most traumatic for her, but it was the ropes, tying her down, holding her immobile, making her feel weak and useless.

He understood that feeling all too well. The feeling of things beyond your control. And he knew the danger of losing yourself in that fear, the desire to crawl so deep inside yourself that you were never found. Ororo was still struggling with that.

That revelation coupled with the fact that she in no way blamed him for what had happened that fateful day in the woods had sparked something long reserved in Logan. He hadn’t delved too deeply into self examination, however, he had decided that the institute wasn’t where they needed to be.


Somewhere in Canada


“We’re here.” Logan reached across the seat and unbuckled her belt, his scent tickling Ororo‘s nose. He smelt warm and male and welcome. She was oddly soothed by that.

Ororo’s lips parted on a soft gasp. In front of her, perched on the edge of a cliff sat a well maintained, beautifully rustic, log cabin, complete with porch and swing. Alongside the cabin was a snowmobile and a covered ATV. To the right of the cabin was a large clearing, and a sizeable pond, all surrounded by a dense tree line. The scenery combined with the afternoon sunset was breathtaking. “Your cabin?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yup.” Logan opened the back of the Jeep, pulling out her bags. “Figured we could hang here for awhile. Give ya some time to get back on your feet, so to speak.”

Ororo didn’t know what to say. That he would make such a gesture for her was…unprecedented. “I don’t want to intrude--” she began.

“You ain’t.” He set the bags on the porch steps, then returned to the Jeep for her. “Comin’?”

Ororo gave him a pensive look, still uncertain of her footing where he was concerned. “You’re sure?”

“Would you just get yer ass in the cabin.” Logan grumbled, nudging her gently along.

Once inside, Ororo took the time to gaze around the interior. The cabin’s décor was somewhat of a surprise to her. Although Logan’s presence was clearly felt with the large meat filled freezer, and kegs of beer on the floor, and masculine colors, the place was, in fact, surprisingly quaint and cozy.

The main room was large with several comfy looking pieces of furniture, a dark oak coffee table, two lamps and an overhead fan as well as a fireplace outlined in hand laid brick. Above the mantle sat a pair of criss-crossed black and silver sai blades.

“Gift from a friend.” Logan said, seeing her curious expression. “C’mon, I’ll show ya where yer room is.”

She nodded, following him up a semi-circle stair case to the second floor. At the top of the stairs Logan pointed out a bathroom and a small closet with towels and shampoos.

“It ain’t completely stocked yet. I wasn’t planning on coming back until February. We can grab some chick supplies and stuff tomorrow if you feel up to it.”

Ororo tilted her head. Logan seemed…disconcerted. She wondered if he was uncomfortable sharing is obviously private space. He was talking again before she could ask him.

“And this,” he flicked on a light, “is yer room.”

Stepping past his wide frame, Ororo took in her new temporary dwellings. A good sized bed with a handmade quilt and several pillows sat against the right wall. A small carved dresser and matching nightstand were the only other furnishings in the room, but it was more than adequate.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She didn’t know what else to say.

Logan shrugged nonchalantly. “Ya may not be thanking me in a couple days when yer sick of my company.”

“True.” Ororo agreed, trying to sound light.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Ya need any help getting settled?”

“No. I think I can handle it.”

Logan felt like there was something meaningful that he should say to make her feel at ease, but no words came readily to mind, so instead he settled on, “Ok. I’m gonna go start a fire and kick back. My ass is killing me.”

Ororo nodded. “You know, you didn’t have to do this. You‘re not responsible for me.”

Logan gave her a long stare. “’Ro, I admire yer stubborn determination to prove you‘re self sufficient, but I think just this once you should pack the brass balls away and relax.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Ignore me, Logan, it’s just me being under medicated.”

He was beside her quickly. “You need something?”

“My Vicodin would be nice.”

“I’ll grab it.”

“I can--”

“You just relax.”

“…Okay.”

At the door Logan turned back to her. “’Ro.”

She looked up. “Yeah?”

“I want you to feel at home here.” His tone rumbled a bit. “Yer safe here.”


***

Two weeks later

“No, Ali, I am not ‘shitting’ you.” Ororo said with a patient sigh, She maneuvered herself so that she could see the Jeep from her position at the payphone. Logan was still at the pump, filling the tank. “I really am fine. That poly-synthetic stuff that Hank invented healed me up good as new. The man was a revolutionary genius.”

“And one hell of a limbo player.”

“That too.”

“So where hell have you two been? You were supposed to call regularly.” Ali reminded her, her tone mildly irritated.

“I know. I would have called sooner, but there‘s no reception up here and this is the first store we‘ve been to with a working payphone. But I’m good.”

“Well, you’d better be. I don’t want to have to bust someone’s shit up if you aren’t.” Ali’s voice held a hint of humor and more than a bit of seriousness.

“How are you?” Ororo changed the subject.

“How am I? Fan-fuckin’-tastic as always. How else would I be?”

“Pissed off, annoyed, indifferent, callous, moody, morose--”

“Okay, okay, smartass.”

Ororo could almost see Ali roll her eyes. “How’s the team?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Visor-boy and Jean are tiffing ‘cause she wants action and he wants to be all stiff and stale. Kitty has given up on Bobby due to his renewed interest in the new chickie Rogue. Mother Russia is as he always is. Quiet and gorgeous. Professor X is shady to say the least. War is tweaking--I think he’s molting, but what the hell do I know. And Kurt…is delicious.”

“Alison! You didn’t?”

“I most certainly did.”

Ororo gave a startled but joyful laugh. “You and Kurt?”

“Yep. And let me tell you, there are things that boy can do with that tail…”

“Oh?”

Ali sighed happily. “Mmmmhmm.”

Ororo’s face hurt she was smiling so wide. “I think Kurt will be very good for you.”

“Yeah, well, you do have a soft spot for the blue-boys.”

Ororo’s hand tightened around the phone. “Speaking of blue boys--”

“Already done. Put flowers out this morning and cleared the headstone.”

Trust Ali to be one step ahead. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.”

“I mean that, Ali. You really are the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Stop, you’ll make me blush and as pale as I am, it’ll look splotchy and hive-like. Not a good look.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey, not all of us are statuesque beauties that could be super models and send men into a wild frenzy of mad passion--and I am a fuckin’ idiot. Crap, Storm, I didn’t think…I am so sorry.”

“Stop.” Ororo rebuked gently. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t be kind. You can say it. Say ‘Alison, you insensitive, unthinking bitch, I was just man handled like a month ago and you are a moron.’”

Ororo laughed. “Seriously, all set on that.”

“No, no. I insist. Call me a douche. I’m a douche.”

“You’re a freak”

“True.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Also true.”

“I’m not fragile, Ali. I’m not going to fall apart every time someone mentions sex, or the word rape.”

“Good thing. I know I’ll be mentioning sex an awful lot. Did I mention that Kurt was endowed?”

“Uh, no. I believe you left that out.”

Alison laughed on the other end. “He’s huge. I don’t think I will be walking straight for the next week. Oh, hey, Professor. What‘s up?”

Ororo laughed so hard she snorted, picturing Xavier rolling by Ali’s doorway, hearing the tail-end of the conversation. She was assailed by more giggles at the thought of ‘tail-end’.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped, holding her side. Ororo caught Logan’s wave out of the corner of her eye as she wiped away tears of mirth. “I gotta run, Ali, but I’ll call you soon. I think we‘re heading back next weekend.”

“Sure, sure. Take care of yourself, Stormy. And take your time.” Ali’s melodic voice was soothing and gentle. “I miss you, but I’ll survive.”

Ororo wished she could hug her friend. “Thanks.”

“Love ya.”

“You too.”

Logan gave her an assessing once over as she approached. “What’s so funny?”

Ororo shook her head, still smiling. “Alison.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

Logan slid into the driver’s seat, his own mouth curved at the corners. “Nuthin’. Just glad to see that smile back on yer face.”

Ororo tilted her face towards the sky, the clouds parting to let the sunshine through. “Yeah,” she said with a happy sigh, “it does feel pretty good.”


Blood.
Fire.
Fire in blood.
Pain.
Blood and fire and pain.
Screaming.
Blood and fire and pain and screaming.
Make it stop. Please, God, make it stop.
Death.
Darkness.
Pain.
Fear. Clawing. Terrifying. Helpless fear.

Logan bolted upright in bed, three claws tearing through tendon and muscle, slashing at an invisible, long forgotten memory.

He closed his eyes, heaving a ragged breath. He pressed his fingertips to his temple, the throbbing pain in his head slowly fading as his healing factor kicked in, removing the headache that memory surges caused.

Minutes seemed endless as he tried to calm himself down. He knew it would take several, he’d suffered these nightmares far too long not to know that.

The cool night air felt good against his sweat dampened skin, the gentle breeze was refreshing, helping to chase away the last gray ghosts of his nightmarish past. It took him a moment to remember that his bedroom window wasn’t open.

Slowly he looked up, towards his bedroom door, and there she stood.

His salvation.

Silhouetted against his door, her sheer diaphanous nightgown rustling in her self generated breeze and silver moonlight caressing caramel skin, she looked like an angel come to deliver him from the foulest pits of hell.

“’Ro…?” His voice was raw, as though from screaming.

She padded silently forward, her blue eyes luminous in the dark. Without a word she approached him, finally coming up alongside the bed. She eased the sheet away from him slowly and carefully slid into the bed beside him, tenderly urging him into her arms.

Logan held himself stiff and reserved, completely uncertain as to what she was doing. He could feel the wounded man inside himself reaching for her, wanting to embrace her and melt into her. The desire to lose himself in her warm acceptance and gentle comfort was fierce and consuming, but there was another part of him was terrified to do so.

She molded against him naturally, pressing his head against her shoulder, her slender fingers curled into his thick hair. She stroked along his temples, her motions rhythmic and peaceful.

With a choked sound Logan folded his thick arms around Ororo‘s waist, burying his face in her snowy tresses, inhaling her soothing scent and letting her presence ease away his torment as nothing in his life had ever been able to do before.

Eventually ragged breathing eased and tension ebbed away, replaced by something else. Something deep, and abiding and growing. Smoldering passion was flaring to life in Logan and he was helpless to stop it.

As if possessed of their own volition his lips caressed the soft curve of her neck, moving languorously across the silky texture. She tasted sweet on his tongue.

Ororo felt Logan’s mouth brush against the pulse of her neck. The brief contact caused her breath to hitch in her throat, and her fingers to involuntarily tighten around the ebony strands in her hand.

She shivered when she felt his tongue swirl against her skin, his mouth slowly moving to cover her shoulder in lingering kisses. He was wreaking havoc on her senses, causing the most delicious sensations to course through her body. Warm fingers slid along the curve of her shoulder, dancing along the spaghetti strap of her nightdress.

Logan moved so that he could see Ororo’s face, gauging her reaction to his touch. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back slightly, revealing the slender column of her throat. Her mouth was parted as short, shallow breaths passed her supple lips.

Adoringly he ran the palm of one hand along that column, feeling the blood flow just beneath her silken skin. She radiated life and vitality, yet at the same time she was so incredibly delicate and fragile. He could snap her neck like a twig if he chose, ending her life between one breath and the next. He had that power, and she knew it.

Before he could contemplate the why of it, he was hugging her, breathing her in and feeling her tremble with a disquieting fear. “Tell me what to do, baby.” His voice was whisper soft against her ear. “Tell me to stop…”

Ororo shook her head, her trembling was both fear and excitement. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

Logan nuzzled her neck before lifting his head and meeting her sparkling gaze. He skimmed her lips with the tip of his tongue, mapping her texture. He covered her mouth fully, kissing her slowly, savoring every sensation, relishing the taste of her on his mouth, content to do no more than this, if it was what she wished. He repeated the kiss again and again. A swirl of tongue, a caress of lips, his hands rising to cradle her face.

Ororo’s eyes fluttered. Never had she been kissed like this before. She felt…cherished. He was deliberate, and slow and unbearably erotic.

Logan shook with his restraint. He wanted inside. He wanted her in every way possible. After his nightmare he felt raw and open and dangerous, his emotions a volatile cocktail of unpredictability, yet he would castrate himself before he rushed her in any way.

After the hell she had been through, the fact that she was allowing anyone, least of all him, to touch her humbled him.

He pressed his thumb against her moist lower lip, completely opening her mouth to him. His tongue plunged deep inside, swirling in ardent worship. She moaned and he felt her shudder, her slender frame pressed tightly to his.

Ororo clung to Logan, her breathing ragged and broken. He was overwhelming her; devouring her. His taste was intoxicating, drugging her and her fingers clenched in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to absorb him into her. She was barely aware of him laying her back onto the bed, only aware of his strong arms surrounding her, drawing her close. Her entire being centered on the passionate web he was weaving around them.

Logan whispered her name in between reverent kisses.

“Logan…” Ororo weaved her fingers through his hair. “I love you.”

Startled, he pulled back, searching her face with dark eyes.

Ororo met his scalding gaze, her eyes growing hazy with passion. “I just wanted you to know…”

Her eyes no longer held fear, but instead smoldered up at him wantonly and he was transfixed. She had never been so unguarded with him.

Something changed in that instant. Something primal and erotic and pure. Logan devoured her full lips in voracious, intense kisses. He nipped at her mouth, immediately soothing the small bites with his tongue, over and over again, as his warm, firm hands skimmed her now writhing body. With deliberate skill he stroked her, pressing against her swollen breasts, teasing her nipples through the near sheer material with his blunt fingers, groaning as they peaked. He circled and stroked, then slowly lifted the hem of her nightgown, pulling the garment over her head. When she lay completely bare beneath him he growled appreciatively. When her hand tentatively reached out to stroke his rock hard abdomen and lower still, he dropped his head onto her shoulder and grit his teeth.

Ororo was on fire. A miracle if there ever was one. For the longest time after her attack she feared that something within her was broken. She had no desire for sex. No want to be close to anyone. Even being alone in the cabin with Logan hadn’t sparked desire. Companionship, certainly, love, most assuredly but desire seemed an ember smothered by fear and self doubt. Until tonight.

Moaning Logan’s name, she raised one leg, brushing her satin skin against the coarseness of his thigh, moaning his name in earnest plea. She lifted her hips, unconsciously rotating against his exploring hand, her soft gasps sounding in the stillness of his room. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as he stroked and teased. She nuzzled his cheek, kissing the rough hairs, whispering his name over and over in a litany of love and desire.

“God, ‘Ro.” His voice was deep and rumbled with pent up desire. “Ya don’t know what ya do ta me.” Warm lips fastened to her shoulder, moving along her damp skin, his hot tongue flicking out, tasting her, sliding across her collar bone and over the soft swell of her breast. He captured the tip between his teeth, rolling her erect nipple between his canines, tugging gently, enjoying her startled gasp. He laved her with his tongue, cupping and squeezing her perfect globes, his eyes taking on a feral gleam in the moonlight.

Logan lowered his head, moving down her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The scent of her arousal was driving him, calling him, beckoning him to her center.

At the first touch of his sensual mouth against her soft curls, Ororo arched her back off the bedding, her fingers splayed on the quilt. “Logan!”

He was doing such wicked things to her. Things that were unexpectedly driving her mad. She trembled while he swirled his tongue around her sensitive skin. His ministrations were gentle and thorough, ensuring her utmost pleasure. She felt his fingers stroking just below his wonderful mouth, sinking deep and sliding back out, stretching her, readying her for him. Pressure was building, moving within her, pleasure a living thing crawling through he body, pooling low in her abdomen. “Oh, oh, please…please, Logan…” Long strands of hair stuck to her cheeks as she tossed her head back and forth mindlessly in ecstasy.

Logan lifted his head briefly, flashing her a wolfish grin. “You taste like summer rain,” he murmured, the very tip of his tongue tasting her. He cupped her in his hands, pulling her closer, burying his face between her thighs, growling when she squirmed. “Easy, baby,” he grunted when she gripped his hair, holding him in place as her hips surged and she writhed against his face.

She was fragmenting! Ororo screamed into the night, her cry drowned by the booming thunder overhead. She sobbed for him to stop, threatened his life if he did and allowed herself to be carried on a wave of sheer ecstasy.

As she came down and her gaze focused, she felt tears slip past the corners of her eyes. “I thought…I thought I was broken,” she whispered raggedly.

Logan smiled gently at her. “You are not broken, ‘Roro.” To illustrate his point, Logan ran his hand down her well toned stomach and slid it between her thighs, probing her slick heat, making her arch off the bed into his touch.

With an urgent passion that had been held on a very short leash, Logan moved back up her body, slowly easing into her, pressing to the hilt. Both of them moaned.

“Jesus.” His jaw was clenched tight, the pleasure beyond reason. He closed his eyes, trying to remain still, relishing her fading tremors and the sweet heat from her release. Bit by bit he began to move, his hips rocking into her pelvis in a dance as old as time, but never before so beautiful to him. In that instant he allowed himself the luxury of her love. Feeling the waves of it flowing from her into him. Surprised, he felt his throat tighten.

Ororo clutched his shoulders, her hands roaming his back and chest as he drove into her in deep, long, slow strokes. She circled his hips with her legs, moving against him, trying to draw him ever closer. “You feel so good,” she rasped, her smoldering voice wreaking havoc on his over sensitized body. “So right.”

“Yes,” he hissed. He knew what she meant. Being inside Ororo was like being home. Unable to hold himself in check any longer, Logan gripped her hips, his fingers nearly biting into her flesh, but not. He reared away from her, watching her face as he drove home, his thrusts slightly more aggressive. His lip curled and his canines gleamed as he drove into her tightness. He watched with hooded eyes, the erotic visual of his cock sliding in and out of Ororo. “Tell me if I hurt you. I couldn’t stand hurting you,” he confessed on a growl.

“You won‘t,” she moaned. “Never.” She bit her lip when he flicked her nipples with his thumbs. “I want all of you. Please, Logan. I won’t break. Please.”

“You sure, Beautiful?” He pressed her firmly into the mattress, looming over her.

“Yessss…” She bit his earlobe, pulling the soft skin between her lips and sucking.

“Good.” He bit her shoulder, thrusting harder. “Yer so tight.” His grunts were harsher, his hips pounding faster. “Aw, hell, oh, fuck, fuck!” Logan pinned her down, slamming into her with borderline bruising force, consumed.

“Yes!” Ororo scratched his back, raking her nails over his sweat slicked skin, drawing blood.

“That’s my girl,” Logan grinned, hefting her higher, panting as they collided ever faster, ever harder. Fear of hurting her held him in check, until she gripped his face between her hands, her eyes snapping snips of light, and she commanded, “Harder!”

With a baring of fang he pinned her hands beside her head, submitting her to his fierce possession. Skin slapped skin. Eyes locked. Blood was drawn. Winds raged.
Lightening lit the sky outside the window. Ororo shuddered. Logan trembled.

“Say the words, ‘Ro,” he murmured into her hair. “I need ta hear them.”

The pleasure of him inside of her, filling her, drowned her other senses, but she heard his gruff plea a moment before she shattered. “I love you!”

Watching her as she came was like watching a falling star. Beautiful and bright and elusive. He wanted to hold that moment forever.

Logan followed her into oblivion, his hoarse, guttural shout was torn from the deepest part of his body and he shook as he emptied himself into her womb in long, hot spurts.

Leaning slightly away from her, he propped himself on one arm, watching her exquisite face in the silver light. She looked ravished, and desirable, and vulnerable. He leaned forward, nuzzling her neck and nipping along the curve. He’d never laid himself so open with anyone before, and he was reluctant to meet her eyes.

Ororo blinked her glowing eyes, the stark white changing into deep sapphire jewels. She searched his face, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Logan?”

A rare, gentle smile curved his lips and he traced the line of her jaw with the back of his knuckles. “Ororo.”

A slow, hesitant smile tugged at her mouth and he kissed the corner of it, pulling her in his arms.

Curled on her side, Ororo’s eyes fluttered open to faint sunlight streaming through dark curtains. Her brow furrowed momentarily, then she remembered she was in Logan’s room. Ororo hid her smile in her pillow. She had been uncertain of the consequences of approaching Logan last evening, afraid that she would freeze or that he would push her away. Yet here she lay, back to Logan’s front, content and utterly fulfilled.

“Mornin’.” Logan leaned up on one elbow, the corner of his sensuous mouth lifted in a faint smile. A light breeze filtered through the now open window, caressing the free flowing strands of his ebony hair.

She rolled over slowly, deliciously tender from the night before. She drank in the sight of him, casually naked, his muscles rippling as he leaned towards her.

His gray eyes wandered her features, taking in her seductive disheveled appearance, and kiss swollen lips.

“Sleep well?” he asked, brushing a silky strand of hair from her forehead.

“Yes,” her voice was soft, lulled by his touch. “Been awake long?”

“Mm.” He lifted her hand from where it lay on his shoulder, pressing his scorching lips to the mad pulse at her wrist. “Long enough.” he mouthed against her skin. He swirled his tongue.

Ororo inhaled sharply.

He held her wrist up, his mouth moving unhurriedly along her inner arm, moistening her sleep warm skin with his playful, erotic kisses. He nuzzled her, just below her ear.

She gave a breathless nervous laugh to his touch.

Logan paused, lifting his lashes to meet her eyes.

Ororo’s heart stuttered. There was such a seriousness about him, like nothing she’d seen from him before.

Purposefully, he pulled his bed sheets away from her, his eyes darkening further still.

“Oh!” Ororo gave a startled moan when she felt Logan sink two fingers deep into her waiting warmth. She instinctively lifted her hips.

“Yer already hot and ready fer me.” There was gruff male satisfaction in his voice. “So fuckin’ hot,” he rolled her to her back, his face taut with passion. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he leaned close. “Do ya have any idea what you do ta me?” Not waiting for a reply, he sealed his mouth over hers, teasing her lips apart with his tongue.

She moved restlessly against him, her gaze as hot as her body. She moistened her lips. “Tell me,” she whispered, slightly awed that she affected him at all.

He chuckled in that low, sensual way of his. “How ‘bout I show ya.” He pulled her head from the pillow, tangling his fingers in her thick hair as he covered her mouth with his own. He slanted kiss after kiss on her, teasing her lips apart and dueling his tongue against hers. He groaned when he felt her nails dig into his shoulder and she kissed him back, full on, and aggressive. A part of him roared in triumph. She was no longer timid and unsure, but instead was meeting him full measure. It was leaps and bounds forward.

When he felt her gentle touch on his erection he almost lost his fragile control right then. “’Ro,” he ground out. Her thumb rubbed the head of his cock, slicking his juices over the tip.

He hungrily kissed her soft, sweet mouth while his knee nudged her thighs apart. He gripped her ass in both hands, watching her exotic face as he pressed forward, filling her with his heavy thickness.

Ororo arched up to meet his thrust, her sultry moan causing Logan to bare his fangs. Jesus Christ! Never in his miserable life had anything felt as good as being buried inside of Ororo Munroe. He panted, sliding out and sinking back in, making every effort to keep his thrusts long and slow.

“Logan,” Ororo cried out as he touched her reverently. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, squeezing him tight, her teeth tugging at his earlobe and her fierce little growl drove him crazy. She moved under him in wild abandon, her nails scoring his back as she met his thrusts passionately.

Despite his initial intentions, their lovemaking became uncontrolled, almost savage, and Logan was completely consumed by it…by her.

His guttural grunts were met by her short gasps, their increasing tempo slamming the bed into the wall and knocking the bedside lamp to the floor.

Waves of undiluted pleasure coursed through Ororo’s body as she clung to Logan. She gave a startled cry when he reared back, lifting her from the mattress and holding her against him. He nuzzled her throat and his teeth scraped her chin as he allowed her to adjust herself to straddling him while he sat on his haunches. Warm, calloused hands cupped and teased her breasts and Ororo closed her eyes, tilting her head back, as a pleasured moan escaped from her.

Beads of perspiration broke out on Logan’s forehead, his body was shaking with barely restrained lust. She was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than to flip her over and dominate her.

Instead, fighting the urge, he shifted his weight, pulling her tighter against him. “Ride me,” he commanded on a aggressive thrust, his tone harsh with restrained desire.

Driven to near madness with passion, Ororo locked her ankles around his back and then, using his thighs and her hands as leverage, she lifted herself and lowered herself on his throbbing erection. “Like that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Fuck, yeah.” He growled through grit teeth.

Ororo arched back, rotating her hips.

“That’s my girl,” Logan ground out. “Ride me, baby.” His hands gripped her hips and he pulled her down as he surged upward.

Ororo moaned, “Logan!” Strong fingers gripped the back of her head, and she found herself the recipient of a bruising kiss. She cried out as he plunged into her again, deeper. “Harder,” she demanded, bouncing on him.

Logan couldn’t help the surprised chuckle that escaped. “Hellion.” Never one to disappoint, his grip on her hips became borderline brutal as he lifted her in time with his thrusts, driving into her as hard and as deep as he could.

Ragged sounds of pleasure tore from Ororo’s throat. Her entire being became centered around the building pressure between her thighs. So close…

“I can feel it, darlin’. Yer close. Come fer me, ‘Ro.” He rolled his hips, his mouth latching onto one jiggling breast.
Ororo bucked, feeling slick heat seep from her body, her mouth open on a cry of pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, yer beautiful,” Logan groaned, leaning back, watching her face as she came apart on top of him.

When the last of her tremors subsided he lay her back against the mattress pushing strands of damp hair from her face with trembling fingers. When she would have moved against him he gripped her hips firmly, holding her still. He shook his head. “Just feel, darlin’.” She whimpered softly as he kissed her, his tongue thrust into her mouth, robbing her of her breath.

Logan’s sexual energy engulfed her; surrounded her as surely as his arms themselves. Slowly, lovingly, Logan mated his tongue with hers, showing her with just his kiss how much he wanted her.

Something was happening to her. Ororo felt the air crackle and thicken. She heard Logan’s intense growl. She felt him deep within her. Neither had moved, not one inch, yet she felt like he had driven straight through her to her heart.

His breaths were sharp, ragged, as if he too felt it.

Ororo trembled.

Logan shuddered.

The air sizzled.

He kissed her. Hard and deep.

The faint copper of blood filled her mouth and she wasn’t sure which one of them had bit the other. Logan mashed his mouth to hers and she welcomed his invasion.

Her body clenched.

Tight. God, she was so tight. Logan felt his control slipping.

“Do it.” She read him.

Logan blinked lust clouded eyes. “’Ro?”

“I want you to. Make me yours, Logan.”

“Babe…”

“I’m sure.” She gently but firmly pushed him away from her so that she could turn over onto her stomach.

Logan growled low and deep, pulling Ororo tighter against himself, her slender hands caught by one of his, stretched out over her head, his other arm snaking around her middle, hugging her to him. With a snarl of pure satisfaction he slid into her, his hiss of pleasure blending with her startled gasp.

With more force than he intended, he plunged home, threatening to cleave her in two with his hard thrust. He held her close, watching their joined bodies with hooded eyes, driven to higher plateaus of possessive pleasure; the sight of his thick erection sliding in and out of her, becoming slicked with Ororo’s personal dew caused his heart to tattoo uncontrollably.

Logan could feel his impending orgasm building and his grunts became more animal growl than man. His grip shifted so that he was cradling her hips, holding her steady as he let himself go completely. “’Ro!” He shouted her name as he found himself in her in long, hot splashes.

“Logan!” Ororo leaned back, reaching behind her to hold him, shuddering.

“Don’t let go,” he rasped against her ear. “Not yet.”

Immediately Ororo’s arms tightened and she pressed her face into his neck, tears stinging her eyes. “Not ever.”

***



The remaining week at the cabin passed in a blur, and in that time something entirely unexpected had happened. Between the recuperation, kickboxing lessons, meditation and explosive bedroom bouts, they had become friends.

Logan shook his head in wry amusement. Finding Ororo attractive was easy. She was damn fine to look at. But, fuck if he didn’t actually like the stubborn, gutsy, determined, opinionated, funny, sweet, and sometimes downright snarky chick. Ororo touched a part of him that he had once believed long dead. The simple truth was that she inspired him.

Her tenacious spirit, determination and sense of loyalty were amazing attributes, but it was her heart that he most admired. Life had handed Ororo Munroe more than her fair share of raw deals, and yet despite it all; despite her parents deaths, being homeless, on the run, arrested, tormented, ousted, used, and most recently raped she still carried within an inner tranquility and essence that was indefinable, yet somehow achingly familiar.

“What’re you thinking about so intently?” Ororo’s dulcet tone broke his reverie. She stepped onto the porch where he was seated, a mug of steaming green tea in her hand.

“Beer.” Logan adjusted himself on the steps, making room for her.

“Ah.” Ororo nodded, as if that made perfect sense, taking the offered spot beside him. She inhaled deeply the crisp, clear mountain air. “I’m going to miss this,” she murmured, sipping from her cup.

Logan curved one arm along her back. “Me too.”

Ororo tilted her face towards his. “I know I’ve said it before, but, thank you for this, Logan.”

He brushed her mouth with his, simmering passion stirring at the brief contact. “Yer welcome, ‘Ro.”

Ororo tucked her head on his shoulder, content.

Logan rested his cheek on her hair. “You sure yer ready to head back?”

She nodded. “As much as I am loathe to leave this place, yes. I’m ready to go back to New York. I’m surprised you’re not crazed by lack of action,” she teased.

Logan smirked in her hair. “I don’t know, we get plenty of action just you and me.”

Ororo blushed to her roots. “Pervert.”

Logan chuckled.

“You should laugh more.” She commented. “You have a nice laugh.”

He paused momentarily. “Y’know, I think I only laugh with you.”

Ororo nuzzled his chin in an unconscious imitation of his frequent gesture. “I’m sorry for that,” she murmured. “I’m also sorry for the way I treated you when you first came back.”

He shifted against her. “Don’t, apologize. I deserved it for what I did to Cyclops.”

“You’ve changed since then.”

Logan closed his eyes. Had he? He had thrown Scott off a cliff to be with Jeannie. That was nothing compared to what he’d be more than willing to do in order to keep Ororo.

“I think I’m going to meditate for awhile,” he said standing. He held his hand out towards her. “Join me?”


Logan’s meditation room was a small, sparsely decorated room adjacent to his bedroom. Once inside Logan lit several scented candles, a new addition to his meditation procedure due to Ororo.

Ororo took time to admire the way the candle light played on Logan’s bare body, particularly his chest and broad back as he moved about the room. He almost always meditated in the nude, a practice she herself had taken too after a few sessions. At first she had wondered if it wasn’t some coy attempt on his part to divest her of her clothing, but then she realized that he was serious. He was also right. Being naked was liberating and made the meditative experience that much more successful.

They took familiar positions on the floor, facing one another, he on his knees and her in a more comfortable Lotus position.

Logan couldn’t have said how long they were in deep trance when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, but the moment they did he opened his eyes, his body on full alert.

Ororo was still seated cross-legged in front of him with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly parted in deep, even breaths.
He cocked his head, tensed and ready. He couldn’t hear anything, but he felt something. What, he couldn’t say exactly.

He was just about to try and regain his peaceful state when Ororo emitted a soft sound. He returned his attention to her. She gave another soft sigh, her features softening further. It was a look of utter peace and seeing it he felt oddly grateful to witness this moment from her.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open, bright and glowing white. Within the small confines of the room wind gusted, swirling around the two of them.

“’Ro?”

“Logan…can you feel that?” Her voice was full of wonder. She placed her hands on skin, one over her stomach, the other over her heart.

Thunder rumbled outside the cabin.

“It’s…beautiful…” Tears spilled down Ororo’s cheeks, a confusing contrast to her wide smile.

“Uh, Ororo?” Logan gave her a blank stare. “What is?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, her hair floating on her self contained winds. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I feel…connected.” A laugh bubbled forth. “I can feel everything.”

Logan wasn’t altogether certain as to what she meant. He knew from experience that in a deep meditative state that he felt more connected to everything, but he wasn’t sure that was the same thing Ororo was experiencing.

The wind velocity in the room increased dramatically, blowing the candles out and knocking Logan away from Ororo. With a grunt and a -snikt- he embedded three claws into the floor boards, his steely gaze centered on Ororo, whose entire body seemed to be glowing.

Flickers of lightning danced from the tips of her fingers, racing along her arms and down her back. She gave a startled cry, the lightning burning into her skin. She glanced at Logan, confused. The winds died down and as quickly as the unexpected event happened it was over.

Logan was beside her instantly. “What the fuck was that? You all right?”

Ororo gave him a befuddled, but strangely happy look. “Yes. I-I don’t know what that was.”

He ran his hand over her wind tousled hair. “Looks to me like someone found their inner enlightenment.” His tone was gruffly teasing but underlined with mild concern. He caught her hand in his, lifting her burned wrist. “’Ro, you see what I see?”

Ororo peered at the red lines along her cocoa skin. “Weird,” she muttered. “Almost looks like writing.”

Logan pressed his lips to the rising marks. “Let’s get these taken care of. Ya sure yer ok?”

“Yeah.” Ororo smiled brightly. “It was so amazing, Logan. Like I could see patterns everywhere and even feel the tides in my womb. Probably my imagination, but it felt so wonderful.”

“I’m glad, baby.” Looking at her animated face, Logan wondered about his momentary feelings of unease. He tried his best to shake it off but it remained with him for the rest of the night.



Something soft was touching her cheek.
Lifting her hand, Ororo brushed away the silky entity and opened her eyes gradually, rolling onto her back. Bright blue and streaming sunshine decorated the sky overhead. A light breeze wafted through the open field that she lay in and once again something soft caressed her cheek. Petals on the wind. Dancing and swirling around her, flittering delicately against her skin.
Slowly rising to her feet, Ororo took in her surroundings. She was in a large, open field of wildflowers, their vibrant hues made all the more vivid by a sea of deep greens. The sky was the clearest blue and the sun glittered on morning dew. It was an artist’s dream.
Ororo began walking, the gossamer material of her long white dress brushing her calves in much the same way the petals brushed against her cheek. She could not remember how she got to this beautiful place, nor did that seem all that important at the moment. The fresh scent of flowers and earth floated over her, her deep breathing bringing even more of the intoxicating aroma into herself.
Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, savoring the warm sunshine and cool breeze. She raised her arms, a wide smile spreading across her face, the feel of the wind against her skin was like a soothing balm to her very soul. She spun in a circle, her dress twirling around her. She laughed joyously, the sound echoing in across the serene field.
A drop of moisture struck her cheek and she brought her fingertips to her face, surprised to feel warm stickiness as opposed to cool water. Another drop struck and she opened her eyes, gasping at the dark crimson on her hands. She looked up at the sky and barely contained a scream. Black clouds rolled against a backdrop of scarlet. Bloody droplets fell from the heavens, splattering splotches of crimson on the flowers, their petals shriveling and dying on contact.
The wounded sky bled heavily, gory beads soaking Ororo’s snowy hair, plastering it to her head and face, rivulets of red running down her neck and along her arms. The beautiful scenery changed dramatically, the flowers hissed and died, turning to ash beneath her bare feet, and over the wind she could hear strange chanting; a sound both melodious and terrifying. The sound grew and grew, until the singsong voices drowned out the world.
She wanted to run, but found herself held immobile by ropes. They coiled around her legs and wrists, pulling her to the blood-soaked ground.
Helpless. They made her helpless…


Ororo jerked awake, her mouth open as though to scream, but thankfully no sound came out, save for the dry rasp of her breathing. It took a moment for the room to come into focus. She was once again in Logan’s room.

“Bad dream?” His rough grumble was a welcome sound.

Ororo pressed her chin into her shoulder, glancing at Logan sitting up beside her. She didn’t have to answer, he knew. Better than anyone he knew what it was to suffer from horrific dreams. This was the first such nightmare since she had begun sleeping with Logan.

“Wanna talk about it?” The back of his hand smoothed strands of hair from the side of her face.

“No.”

“No?” He leaned forward, placing a lingering kiss on the nape of her neck.

She sighed. “It’s the ropes,” she murmured quietly. “I can’t explain it, but it’s the ropes.”

Logan ran his hand along the gentle curve of her spine.
“I can’t get past that. Such a stupid, stupid thing.” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, fighting tears.

“Not stupid, darlin’. You were bound against yer will. That’s not something easy to get over. Trust me.”

Ororo sighed. “I hate it, Logan. I hate feeling like this.”

They sat in the dark shrouded in silence.

“I’ll be right back.” He swung his feet over the bed and padded naked from the room. When he returned moments later Ororo tensed a bit. Hanging around his neck was a long white corded rope.

“Logan?” She raised searching eyes to his.

“I need you to trust me,” he said approaching the bed. He set the length of rope on the nightstand.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

He pulled her to her feet. “Replacing the bad with the good.” His teeth nipped her shoulder. “Just breathe, baby.”

Ororo shivered.

“Just look into my eyes.”

She did as he said.

“I’ve traveled around the world,” he murmured. “Discovered customs and learned new things everywhere I went. Some places were more deviant than others.” Lips touched lobe causing a familiar heat to sear Ororo. “I picked up items on my journey. Like this silk rope.” He placed the ends in her hands. “Feel how smooth and soft?”

She nodded, unable to speak past the uneasy lump in her throat.

“Some places I visited had arts of the bed-chamber that made the Karma Sutra look like novice tips.” As he spoke he began drawing the ends of the cord beneath her arms and crossing them at her back.

He wrapped the cord about Ororo’s waist and moved slowly around her, before pulling a bit and securing her wrists together. "Of course, I didn’t get a chance ta learn them all. But I did learn some skills."

Logan almost smiled in approval as he scented some of her unease leaving as he spoke.

He took up the other lend of the cord and set about securing it, from nape to waist and between Ororo’s thighs, binding it to the knot at her wrists.

Ororo shifted her shoulders experimentally, feeling the friction of the cord between her legs. The tension on the cord caused the silken length working its way between her nether lips to tighten, making her gasp.

Logan smiled his wolfish smile. “We’re not done yet,” he murmured, seeing the realization slowly entering her troubled eyes.

He set about finishing, binding her ankles together, and running the cord back to her wrists. No matter how she moved, the cord grew taut between her legs, slipping back and forth, teasing her swelling clit.

Logan stepped back, observing his handiwork. “Do you feel helpless now, ‘Ro?“ His smile was seductive.

Ororo was momentarily stunned as she realized that no, she didn’t. She felt a bit awkward, but not helpless. With each move she made, tension ran along the silk, giving her pleasure.

She gazed at him, searching for an answer to her unasked question. How did he know?

“Kneel for me,” he whispered.

Slowly Ororo sank to her knees, biting her lip as the rope rubbed enticingly.

Logan stepped closer, his thick erection eye level. “Touch me,” he requested, his voice rough and hoarse.

Ororo lifted her bound hands, griping him, and in doing so making the rope go taut. “Oohh…” She shuddered. As she moved her hands on him, the rope moved on her. She closed her eyes, panting. She tossed her head back. Desire was building. Acting on instinct alone she leaned forward, taking Logan’s cock into her mouth.

“Jesus!” Logan shook, his fingers griping her hair involuntarily.

Bound and tethered, Ororo serviced Logan and in doing so serviced herself. Each move she made was dictated by her, and each tug was giving her unimaginable pleasure.

Unable to contain it Ororo felt her orgasm overtake her. She closed her eyes, climaxing with Logan still in her mouth.

Restraint be damned, Logan lifted Ororo to her feet, slicing the rope from her in one quick motion. He tumbled them back onto the bed with him beneath her.

Ororo slid her hands along his muscled abdomen and across his chest, over his shoulders and around his neck. With her natural grace she swung one leg over his two so that she was straddling him. She lifted herself and rubbed against his heavy erection wantonly.

He sucked in his breath.

She ran her fingers through his ebony mane, massaging his scalp, bringing him slightly closer to her. “I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Logan pulled her face to his, sucking her lower lip into his mouth, bringing his hands down her shoulders to cup her full breasts. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for trusting me”

Ororo made a low sound deep in her throat. Her lips crashed into his in a surprisingly demanding kiss. She massaged his tongue with her own, sighing into his mouth.

Logan moved to his knees, careful to keep Ororo still straddled over his thighs. He ran his thick hands along the sleek curve of her back, pressing his cock against her damp entrance, rubbing the head along her slick seam. “You want me, darlin’, then you put me in.”

Ororo threw her head back, clutching his broad shoulders with one hand, her breath catching when she wrapped her other hand around his pulsing thickness. Slowly she adjusted herself over him and little by little she lowered herself over the fat head of his dick, gasping his name.

Logan’s breath hissed from between clenched teeth. He palmed her back, pressing her closer. “God damn, darlin’, you feel fuckin’ good.”

“Mmmm.” Ororo nodded, unable to articulate a verbal response, her entire being throbbing around him. She braced her feet behind his back on the mattress, lifting up then back down, again and again and again.

“That’s good, baby. So good.” Logan grunted, the planes of his face harsh and stark in the shadows, drawn tight in pleasure.

Ororo’s fingernails dug into his shoulders and she rolled her hips in a way that she had learned accidentally, but that excited Logan beyond reason.

Involuntarily his hips lifted from the mattress, impaling her further onto his turgid cock.

“Ah…” She cried out a bit.

“You can take it, baby.” Logan assured her. “Take all of me.” He gripped her hips, pulling her completely down onto him, so that their bodies were flush.

Ororo closed her eyes, the feeling of fullness a pleasure that bordered on pain. “Logan,” she breathed, rolling her hips again, grinding against him, stimulating herself through the friction.

He kissed her voraciously, sucking her tongue into his mouth, filling himself with her flavor, feel and scent.

“Yes!” She lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped, lifted and swiveled her hips, groaning with each impalement.

They writhed against each other wildly, recklessly pagan in their joining.

Thunder shook the room. Claws popped. They were out of control.

Momentum was building and with boisterous cries to their respective Gods they found simultaneous release.

“Logan!” she screamed into the night.

“’Ro…” Logan bucked underneath her, coming in hot spurts.

Ororo collapsed onto his chest, completely undone by their lovemaking, her hair spilling across her face. “Damn,” she whispered.

Logan chuckled. “Yeah.” One hand came up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through sweat slicked strands. He allowed himself to fall back onto the bed, bringing her with him.

Ororo smiled. Laying on top of Logan, his strong heartbeat thudding solidly beneath her ear, it was easy to imagine that everything was all right. That life was perfect and that no matter what everything would turn out for the best.

It took several minutes for their breathing to return to normal, but when it did, “What’s bothering ya?” Logan asked, breaking her pleasant haze.

Ororo sighed inwardly. She should have known he’d smell it. “How could anything be bothering me after that?”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“No, it didn’t.” She raised herself on one arm, studying the mysterious depths of his eyes. She traced her fingertip along the edge of his mouth. She was rewarded when one corner tilted up, revealing an all too rarely seen dimple.

Logan lifted his head nipping her fingertip. Ororo laughed softly, a sultry sound that rippled over him.He gripped her shoulders, rolling her underneath him.

Ororo tugged his mouth down to hers, brushing his lips in slow tantalizing caresses.

“Miss Munroe are you tryin’ ta seduce me?”

Ororo licked along his chin, right up to his nose. “If it’ll get you to shut up.”

“Wench.”

“Mmhm.”

“What is, darlin’?” He touched the tip of her nose with his finger.

“Will we still be like this…in New York?” she wondered. It was a question that had been troubling her for several days. Would the bond they’d forged here in the wilderness be diminished, or worse, destroyed when they returned to the X-Men.

Nudging her thighs apart Logan settled between the cradle of her hips, another erection already on the way. “No.” He answered honestly. “It’ll be harder to find time for this.” He moved against her slowly, undulating his hips. “But we’ll manage.”

Ororo nodded, “It’s definitely worth a shot.”

Logan groaned when she moved her mouth along the tendons on his neck, suckling gently, her thumbs skimming his flat copper nipples. “Definitely,” he agreed on a growl. “We’ll make it work.”

Ororo moaned as Logan once again took possession of her body, driving away her doubts with his hot, demanding domination.

A long while later Logan lay staring at the ceiling, cradling Ororo‘s sleeping form across his chest. Fuck, he hoped he was right. He kissed her snowy crown. “No force on earth is gonna make me give you up, baby,” he vowed. “No way.”

The door to the Institute flung open and an excited Ali pulled Ororo into the mansion before Ororo even had a chance to remove her keys. “Welcome back!” Tattooed arms squeezed around her middle, making Ororo puff a surprised breath.

“Easy, tiger,” she teased Ali. “Those be my oh so fragile ribs.”

Ali rolled her aqua eyes, completely unsympathetic. “Suck it up, baby.”

Scott and Kurt were in the foyer as well, both looking uncertain as to how to greet her. Ororo took pity on them and embraced both in gentle hugs. “Hi guys.”

“Hey.” Scott rubbed her shoulder hesitantly. “Welcome home.”

“Ja!” Kurt agreed. “Welcome home.” He kissed Ororo’s cheek quickly before stepping back beside Ali.

“So, did Wolverine take good care of you?” Ali gave Logan, who was stepping through the door, carrying Storm’s bag, a narrow eyed look.

Ororo felt a flush creep into her cheeks. “He was--amazing.”

“Amazing?” Ali echoed, her pierced eyebrow shooting up as well as one side of her mouth. “He was amazing?”

Ororo’s color deepened. “Um, unbelievable.” Ok, that was even worse. What in the heck was wrong with her?

Logan came up behind her, his warm breath on her nape and two roaming hands, hidden from view, stroked her backside through dark denim. “Unbelievable?” he murmured against her ear.

She swatted at his hands ineffectually. He seemed to have developed an utter fascination with her butt. “He was very attentive,” she told Ali, trying to remain focused.

Ali’s smirk widened into a full on grin. “Just how attentive?”

Ororo felt herself melting as strong, warm hands meandered upwards until they settled just beneath her breasts along her rib cage sliding over her flat stomach as Logan’s two well muscled arms wrapped completely around her, holding her.

“She was in good hands,” Logan answered for her.

Ali’s eyes glittered with devilish amusement. “I just bet.”

Scott tilted his head to the side, an appraising gesture. Ororo and Logan‘s closeness not going unnoticed. “Wolverine.”

“Cyke.” Logan returned.

“Is that Storm?” Jean rounded the second floor corner, pausing at the top of the stairs, her green-eyed gaze flickering over Logan’s possessive hold around Ororo’s waist.

Ororo’s blush further deepened. She hadn’t been sure how Jean would take her and Logan together and if the thinning of the pretty redhead’s lips were any indication, she wasn’t thrilled about it.

“Hallo, Jean.” Ororo tried unsuccessfully to disentangle herself from Logan’s embrace. He gave her a small rumble of warning, tugging her closer, telling her without words that he wasn’t quite ready to relinquish her just yet. She felt much the same way he did, so she settled back against his chest, enjoying the scent of his worn leather and familiar musk.

Jean descended the stairs. “Welcome back,” she said with genuine warmth. Ororo just wasn’t sure who the comment was directed at.

Ali stepped forward, grasping Ororo’s hand. “Okay, Wolverine. You’ve had her all to yourself for waaaaay too long, stop hogging. We have serious girl shit to catch up on.”

Logan looked ready to argue the point when Xavier rolled through the hall, entering the foyer. “Wolverine. Storm. It is good to have you back home. If you have a moment, Ororo, I’d like to speak with you.”

“Actually, Chuck, she’s got serious girl shit to catch up on,” Logan interrupted, nudging her towards Ali.

Giving Logan a puzzled look Ororo said to Xavier, “Maybe later.”

Charles nodded. “Of course. Take your time.”

“I’ll catch up with ya later,” Logan told Ororo, his fingers giving hers a comforting squeeze.

“’Kay.” She gave him a slight nod.

When Ali and ‘Ro had exited the room, Logan turned to Xavier. “She’s still recovering.”

“From Sabertooth, or you?” The question spilled forth from Jean before she could stop herself and she mentally cursed.

Logan gave her a quick glance, his brows raised. “What was that?”

Deciding it best to diffuse the situation before it became one, the Professor spoke. “No need to worry, Logan. I have no intention of making Storm do anything she isn’t ready for.”

“That’s just it, Chuck. She’ll want you to push her. She wants to be doing something.” Logan turned his attention back to the man in the wheelchair.

“Is that a problem?” Scott asked crossing his arms. “I mean, don’t we want her actively participating on the team?”

“Of course,” Charles said.

“She seems fit enough,” Jean added. “Storm isn’t the type to sit on idle. Obviously.”

“No. She isn’t.” Xavier agreed. “I appreciate your concern, Logan, and rest assured Storm will set her own pace, but I will not limit her.”

“I don’t want ya to. But she doesn’t need to go out full throttle either.”

“When did you get all big brother towards Storm?” Jean asked mildly, earning a sharp look from behind ruby quartz.

Logan nearly choked. Brotherly affection was the last thing he felt for ‘Ro. Passionate, possessive obsession maybe, but brotherly, no way.

“I will take what you say under careful consideration,” Xavier said before Logan could respond. “In the meantime you have several messages on your private line.”

Logan cocked his head. He had a feeling no line in the institute was all that private. “Thanks.” He picked up Storm’s bag from it’s position on the floor beside his booted feet, intending to drop it by her room on the way to his.




“So.”

Ororo glanced at Ali from the corner of her eye. She leaned back against the wall beside the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. “So?”

“You and Wolverine seem a lot closer than when you left.” Ali flounced herself into one of her many bean bag chairs.

The two women were in Ali’s room, listening to the White Stripes and catching up. It felt really good to be back with Alison, Ororo thought. “Yeah, and?”

Ali rolled her eyes in her familiar manner. “And…I think there’s something going on between you two.”

“You do?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, chickie. I know you. You’re…different.”

Ororo fought the twitch of her lips. “Different, how?”

“For the love of--!” Ali threw one of her nearly decapitated stuffed bunnies at Ororo’s head. “Would you just spill!”

Ororo laughed, deflecting the poorly thrown rabbit. “It’s not like you to beat around the bush, Ali. What is it you want to know?”

With a huff Ali leaned forward so that her forearm rested on her bent knee. “Did you two fuck?”

“Ali!”

“You asked what I wanted to know, and that’s just question one.” She shifted position. “The way he was looking at you, I’d say that is a definite yes.”

Ororo flushed. “And exactly how was he looking at me?”

“Like he was a fat chick and you were the last slice of cheesecake in three states.” Ali said with a grin. “To put it bluntly, Stormy dear, the man looked like he wanted to eat you.” She took a moment to study Ororo’s darkening color. “And from your reaction, I’d say he already has.”

Ororo shook her head. “You are so wrong in the head.”

“Mm. Yeah. My therapist says I am clinically ‘indefinable’. Whatever the fuck that means. But stop evading. Did you?”

“Why?”

“So we can compare notes. What do you mean why? This is the shit best friends share with each other. Geesh.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. So answer damn it. Don’t make me tackle your ass. We both know I’d hate to put a hurt on you, you being so fragile and all.”

It was Ororo’s turn to roll her eyes. “Right.”

Ali stared, unblinking, her face placid. Waiting.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Yes. Okay, yes. Happy now?”

Ali gave an excited squeal, launching herself from her position on the bean bag to Ororo, tackling her back onto the bed. “I am so happy for you!” She straddled Storm’s legs.

Ororo couldn’t help but smile.

Alison laughed, rolling to the side so that they both lay staring at the ceiling. “Was he good? Or unbelievable?”

“Definitely the latter.”

“Oh, my.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with him?”

Ororo thought about that for a long minute, reviewing everything that had transpired between her and Logan at his cabin, and before. She turned her head, brushing her hair from her face. “He’s…different than I expected.”

“Oh?” Ali’s curiosity was peeked.

“Mm.”

“He seems intense.”

“He certainly is that.”

“Y’know, I thought he was definitely doable when we picked him up in the Amazon.”

“So you mentioned. Repeatedly.” Ororo teased.

“Yeah, but that was before me and fuzzy.”

“You and Kurt. I really didn’t see that coming. How is that going?”
It was Ali’s turn to flush a bit beneath Ororo’s steady stare. “One word: prehensile. Mmmmm. He makes me happy.”

“That’s good.”

Ali nodded slowly. “Yeah, but sometimes he’s just too good, y’know.”

“I don’t think I understand. How can he be too good?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Ali propped herself up on her elbow, one strap of her tank slipping to hug her upper arm as opposed to her shoulder. “It’s like he’s overcompensating. And that bothers me, because believe me, the boy has nothing to compensate for. He’s bright, beautiful and built. All my favorite B words.”

“Have you mentioned this to Kurt?”

“No. It sounds stupid, but I don’t want him to get scared away. I get the feeling he is waiting for me to roll over and say, ‘oops, I didn’t realize I was screwing a blue furry mutant, my bad. Go away.’”

Ororo could tell by the set of Ali’s jaw that this really bothered her. “Kurt hasn’t really been treated with warmth and affection in his life, Al. It’ll take some time for him to adjust to a relationship--especially with you.”

“I know that, and that pisses me off to no end. He’s the sweetest, kindest, bravest, most selfless person I have ever known and that people only see his demonic appearance just makes me wanna scream and throttle them on the mere grounds of overwhelming stupidity, and I hate the fact that he doesn’t see himself worth anything, or that he isn’t what he really is, and…what?”

Ororo was beaming, her blue eyes sparkling. “Alison Blaire, you’re in love.”

Ali groaned. “Don’t I know it.”

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

Ororo sat up, running her hand through her hair, straightening it. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one.” Ali corrected, sitting upright. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Forgive the bluntness, but are you sure you’re ready for someone like Wolverine?”

Ororo felt her defenses rising. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, are you fully prepared? Are you equipped to deal with Captain Intensity.”

“I can handle myself just fine, Al.” Ororo’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh-huh. So I take it you have a full stock of supplies.”

That brought Ororo up short. “Supplies?”

“Yeah, Handcuffs, whipped cream, paddles, collars, crops, spurs, ropes; y’know, supplies.”

At the mention of ropes Ororo’s gut tightened, but not in fear as it would have before, but instead it tightened in delicious anticipation and with the fluttering effect of an erotic memory. She could hear Logan’s gruff, heated voice in her mind. Replacing the bad with the good.

Ali didn‘t seem to notice, instead continuing. “I’ve searched your room before, so I know for a fact you don’t have any toys, or any sexy nighties for that matter. So, it looks like we’re going shopping.” Ali bounced up from the bed, tugging Ororo with her.

“Ali--” Ororo protested but to no avail. She stumbled behind Ali, both girls laughing into the hall.




Later

Ororo glanced up from the novel in her hands, a light rap on her bedroom door catching her attention. She tossed the covers back and scooted from the bed, her heart thudding unexpectedly, wondering if it was Logan on the opposite side.

“Evn’in’, darlin’.” And there he stood, leaning one arm against the door frame, a smirk on his rugged face and a six pack of beer hanging from the hand by his hip. He looked sinful in his tight black Harley Davidson T-shirt and worn jeans.

Ororo felt a warm stirring within her chest. Loathe as she was to admit it, coming back to the Institute was harder for her than she cared to admit. The sympathetic smiles, the uncertain glances from the others, the feelings of inadequacy that lingered just beneath the surface.

She had thoroughly enjoyed her day of shopping with Alison, and had found herself relaxing and feeling more at ease with each passing hour, however, when the darkness began to fall and people began to retire to their rooms, Ororo had to fight down waves of longing and loneliness.

She hadn’t seen Logan but once since their return, and that was only to wave a hasty goodbye as Ali practically shoved her into her small car. She hadn’t realized how very much she’d come to rely on his strong presence until it wasn’t readily available to her. She was thankful, more than words could say, that he was there.

“Hi.” She took a step back, allowing him entrance. It was the first time he’d set foot in her room since the night he had told her how good they could be together.

Logan turned to face her as the door clicked closed, his eyes darkening as he took in her attire. She was wearing a man’s plaid shirt. His plaid shirt to be more specific. She must have taken it from the cabin when they left. Slowly he sat on the corner of the bed, setting the beers by his feet, removing one bottle. He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Nice shirt.” He snapped the cap off the beer with a flick of one claw.

Ororo tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “You don’t mind, do you?” She hadn’t planned on taking the shirt when they left, it had been a spur of the moment decision.

“Not a bit.” Logan pulled on his beer, swallowing the cool liquid. “How ya holdin’ up?”

“Good.”

“I heard you and Sparkler went shopping.”

“Dazzler. Preferably Ali,” Ororo commented with a slight smile. Ali would bludgeon him if she heard him refer to her as Sparkler. “And yes, we did.”

Logan pressed the bottle to his lips again, his eyes wandering over her long, toned legs. “Have a good time?”

Ororo cleared her throat. “It was…interesting.”

Something about her tone caught his attention. He raised his brows. “Interesting?”

Ororo looked at her bare feet. “To say the least.”

Logan set his opened beer on the floor, rising fluidly to his feet. “Where’d ya go?”

Ororo tried not to meet his eyes. “Pandora’s Box.”

He faltered in stride, his groin tightening painfully, knowing full well what Pandora’s Box was. “What’d ya get?” Was that his voice, raw and aching like that?

Catching his shift Ororo lifted her eyes to his. “A black thong,” she blurted.

Logan’s teeth gleamed. “Are ya wearin’ it now?”

She nodded slowly.

“Can I see?” He was directly in front of her now. Again she nodded. Logan gently cupped her shoulders, turning her. She didn’t protest, but moved willingly. He pressed his hand along the back of his shirt, tracing down her spine, past the curtails and over the smooth globes of her ass. He lifted the shirt and his breath left in a rush of air. “Goddamn, darlin’.” Two thin pieces of lace converged directly below the small dimple of Ororo’s back, then disappeared into the sweet recesses of her buttocks. Logan traced their path with his finger, making her gasp. He leaned against her, whispering in her ear. “What else ya got?”

There was a hesitant silence. “I can’t possibly show you what Ali bought.”

Logan’s grin was feral against the nape of her neck. He massaged his hands under the flannel, along her back. “Sure ya can. It’ll turn me on.”

She gave a breathless chuckle. “Everything turns you on.”

He shook his head. “Only you, baby.”

Heat flooded her body at his simple statement.

“I wanna see,” he encouraged.

“Fine.” She pushed herself away from him, bending beside her dresser to pull the shopping bag shoved underneath it out.

Logan rocked back on his heels, admiring the view.

“Here.” She shoved the shopping bag at him.

Logan gave her a wicked smile, pulling the bag open. Mesh and leather lay atop some other items. He raised glittering eyes to her. “You’ve got ta put it on for me.”

Ororo shook her head. “No way.”

Logan ignored her denial, peering into the bag. “What else ya got?”

Ororo cringed. “Uhm--”

He pulled out a pair of leather covered handcuffs raising one eyebrow, followed by a small vibrator and flavored body creams. “Looks like we’re in for a long night.”

Ororo wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Why oh why couldn’t she have Kitty’s phasing power…

“Put it on for me,” he repeated.

She stood motionless, his gaze hot and intense, holding her in place. She reached out one hand, taking the bag. Without another word she turned, going into her private bathroom and closing the door.

Inside the bathroom she inhaled several shaky breaths. What in the name of the Bright Lady had she gotten herself into? She held up the corseted piece of leather and mesh stockings, making a mental note to kick Ali’s ass next danger room session.

“You comin’ out, ‘Roro, or am I comin’ in ta get you?” His voice sounded gruff and sensual.

Ororo pulled his shirt over her head and proceeded to lace up and strap into the risqué outfit Ali had purchased for her. She took another calming breath before opening the bathroom door and stepping back into the bedroom.

Logan lay on her bed, unabashedly naked, his thick cock standing up amidst dark hair. He was so thick and well endowed, Ororo couldn’t help but stare, moistening dry lips. At the foot of the bed lay each toy and tickler that had been purchased from Pandora’s, as if Logan were a sexual surgeon, intending on using each and every one. From the feral glint in his eye, Ororo didn’t doubt that was exactly what he had planned.

Logan felt his heart kick and his balls tighten at the vision before him. Clad in skimpy black leather and moonlit hair, Ororo was the embodiment of sexual fantasies made real. The black leather corset pushed her breasts high, leaving her chocolate nipples exposed, the material not quite reaching her navel, leaving her bare until the thong, followed by mesh stockings on endless legs.

“Come here.” He held out his hand. He’d been with other women in his life, too many to count, but none effected them like this. No one else made his body shake with want. No one else drove all rational thought from his head and caused his blood to plummet and pump straight into his groin. Not one other person made him want to let go and share everything.

Ororo was everything he could ever want in a woman. Fierce, strong, beautiful, smart and loyal; and she terrified the fuck out of him.

She couldn’t breathe. He was looking at her in a way he’d never looked at her before. His face was etched in familiar desire, but there was a light in his midnight eyes that hadn’t been there before. She placed her hand in his and was immediately yanked down into his waiting arms.

Logan tangled his fist in her thick hair, tilting her head and slanting his mouth over hers, catching her soft sigh. He kissed her over and over, unable to quench his thirst for her. Leather brushed the tip of his cock and he growled. “Christ, ‘Ro.”

His mouth left hers, searing a path along her neck down to the soft swells spilling from her corset. Ororo cried out as he suckled her nipple into his mouth. “Does that feel good?”

She blinked hazy, passion filled eyes at him. “You know it does.”

Logan rolled her beneath him, pulling at the thin scrap of thong covering her. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Ororo lifted herself off the bed, making it easier for him to remove her panties. “I want you.”

“Good answer,” his grin was wicked and sexy. He lowered his head, inhaling her scent. “Tell me,” he rumbled as she instinctively parted her legs for him. His fingertips brushed her mound, his breath stirring the hair there. “Tell me what to do.”

Ororo wondered at her lack of shame. Instead of feeling shy and insecure, she felt wanton and womanly. “Taste me.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Logan pushed his tongue fully against her in a long deliberate stroke. He flicked and stabbed, sucked and teased until he felt the muscles of her stomach contract and her plaintive cry sounded in the dark.

“I need to be inside,” he growled, pulling her against his probing erection.

Ororo nodded, lifting her hips encouragingly. “Yes.”

“Fuck, baby. Yer so goddamn tight.” His breath hissed as he surged home. He lifted her legs so that her ankles rested on his shoulders, pistoning forward, his thrusts hard and demanding, yet fulfilling and giving all at once. With each stroke Ororo made a small grunt/growl that drove him closer and closer to oblivion.

“Logan…Oh, yes…” She bit her lip.

He could feel control slipping as he watched her full breasts dance with each thrust, her eyes whitening with her approaching orgasm and her inner walls clenching like a fist around him.

With a snarl he unsheathed a solitary blade, slicing up the laced corset, baring her completely to him. He bent his head, latching onto one jiggling breast, groaning as he felt slick heat wash over him as Ororo came apart in his arms.

His own release followed, it’s intensity made more pronounced by his inability to articulate anything more than a silent roar as he came in rushing torrents.

Ororo wrapped her arms around him, her legs slipping from his shoulders to circle his waist as they held one another so tight neither could breathe.

“My god, ‘Ro.” Logan gasped. “That was fuckin’ amazing.”

“Yeah,” she giggled. Giggled. What was this man doing to her?

She shifted position, removing the leather corset from beneath her. “Well, don’t think I’ll be wearing this again,” she murmured.

Logan lifted his head, his gaze contemplative. “Naw. No need. I prefer ya naked.”

“Mm?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

He reached towards the foot of the bed, lifting one of the cream containers. “Although decorated may be nice.” He popped the top, dipping his finger into the caramel glaze.

Ororo gasped as she felt his finger on her thigh, drawing a smiley face. “Logan, what are you doing?”

His smile was once again sinful. “Midnight snack.” He licked the cream from her skin.

“Ohhhh….”

“Like I said, this is gonna be a long night.”

Ororo didn’t have time to respond as Logan flipped her onto her stomach, strong, deft hands drawing on her skin, followed by the heated feel of his tongue swirling on oversensitive flesh. The man was going to kill her, she thought as she splintered under his expert fingers, clutching the bedding and riding her orgasm as wave after wave washed over her. She screamed his name twice that night, once into her pillow as he mated and marked her, then again in the wee hours before dawn as he took her with such sweet, slow intensity it made her openly weep.

As she lay spent and exhausted she didn’t feel the brush of his lips on her temple, nor his whispered, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Ororo.”

Logan on the other hand lay awake until well past sunrise, not wanting to surrender the night to the coming morn. Unconsciously he tightened his hold on Ororo, nestling her beneath his chin.

Logan sat propped against the painted wood of the larger of the three windowsills, clad only in his red boxer briefs, his bare back pressed to cool glass as he silently observed the woman sleeping not three feet away from him. He took a long drag off of his cigar, savoring the taste before a slow exhale, the blue-gray cloud filtering through the slight opening of the window, drifting into the snow swirling morning.

Ororo was much like a fine cigar, he thought, wincing slightly at the unromantic analogy, but it was true. She was strong and bold, rare and best savored slowly, her taste lingering on his pallet. He shifted against the sill, propping his leg and resting his forearm across his knee, the cigar dangling from loose fingers.

Ororo rolled onto her side and her long hair spilled across the bed in a snowy cascade. He loved her hair. Soft, softer than any silk he‘d ever felt, it flowed about her face like a sleek cloud, its color and texture defying description.

She defied description, he corrected. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he’d run across every sort of person one could run across in his time. Her stubborn pride and determination were akin to his own, but where he was a loner by choice, and avoided close relationships with people, Ororo was fiercely protective of those that she considered friends. She was duty bound to the X-Men, and he knew that she would fight for Chuck’s ideology fiercely, but more than that she would fight for those that she referred to as her family. She was loyal to a fault, and it humbled him to think that she loved him.

She was mumbling in her sleep, as she had done for most of the night. He knew she hadn’t rested well, tossing and turning until well after dawn. He pondered what plagued her dreams, keeping her from sleep.

Logan tossed the burning remains of his cigar out the window before returning to the bed. He was about to lay back beside her when he heard the muffled buzzing of his cell phone vibrating against the floorboards through his carelessly discarded jeans.

With several muttered words, he picked up his pants, pulling the phone from the front pocket. “Yuh.” He answered. “No.” He turned away from the bed, lowering his voice. “Look, I said I’d get there when I get there. No. I ain’t yer beck and call boy, so yer just shit outta luck. Yeah. Fine, whatever… When I‘m damn good and ready.” He snapped the phone shut, running a hand over his face and expelling an irritated breath.

“Problems?” Ororo was propped up on one elbow looking at him, her sleepy blue eyes showing concern.

For him, he realized with a surprised clench in his gut. He couldn’t remember the last time a person looked at him like they cared about what was going on with him. Even Jeannie, who he was certain had loved him to a degree, had like so many others, assumed he didn’t want to be cared about.

“Nothin’ for you ta worry about.” He yawned, an almost roar-like sound coming from him. “What?” he asked when she laughed.

“Nothing.” Ororo smiled.

“Hnh.”

“Oh, no. Not that again. I thought we were passed the grunting phase.”

She should have known what his response would be, but it gave her chills regardless when his lips curled and his canines flashed. “We ain’t never gettin’ past the gruntin’ phase, darlin‘.” He crouched low and lunged at her.

Ororo squealed, laughing out loud as he pinned her to the bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets. “You are such a pervert,” she teased.

His eyes flashed and his mouth curved in the sexiest of smiles. The man literally exuded sex appeal. “You have no idea.”

Ororo wrapped her arms around him, her fingers threading through thick ebony strands. “Show me.”

Logan was just about to do just that when they were interrupted by pounding on the bedroom door. “Wake up, lazy ass!”

Ororo stifled an amused groan. Ali.

“She’s busy, Sparkler! Go away!” Logan called over his shoulder. He sniffed. “You too, Elf!”

“Logan!” Ororo couldn’t believe he just announced his presence in her room like that, so nonchalantly, like it was perfectly normal for them to be interrupted mid foreplay.

“What?” He glanced down at her.

“I didn’t think we’d be broadcasting where you spent the night is all.”

“I’d think that thunderstorm this morning was broadcast enough.”

Ororo blushed, remembering the blinding flashes of lightning filling her bedroom as Logan had shown her how fun handcuffs could be.

She wiggled from beneath him, tugging the sheet and wrapping it around her torso. “That’s not the point.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then what exactly is the point?”

“I just don‘t think we need to make our relationship gossip fodder--”

“You ashamed?” He interrupted suddenly, his voice was more growl than anything.

“What? No! Of course not. I just thought it best to give everyone time to adjust…give us time to adjust, Logan. We don’t even know how this will work…or how it will affect other people.”

He gave her a heavy look. “You mean Jean.”

She tensed at that. “Well, you and she do have history.”

“Yeah, and it’s just that, ‘Roro. History.”

She cast him a speculative glance. “If you say so, Logan.”

He sat up, clearly frustrated in more ways than one. “Just what in the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Ororo turned her face away, wishing she hadn’t opened her mouth.

“Well?” he prompted when she remained silent.

She sighed, returning her gaze to his. “It means I saw the way she looked when she saw us together last night, Logan. And I know you saw it too.”

“So what?”

“So what? So, this is a woman you were willing to kill for not a year ago, you can‘t tell me those feelings have completely died off like they didn‘t exist.”

He chuffed, but didn’t confirm or deny that statement. “I repeat, so what?” There was a rough edge to his voice and Ororo wondered if she’d somehow hurt him.

“Logan--”

“Look, darlin’, I ain’t gonna go around pretending anythin’ for anyone. If Jeannie has issues with you and me then too fuckin’ bad.”

Ororo‘s brows crowded each other. How much of that was because Jean hadn’t cared how her and Scott had effected him, she wondered.

As if sensing her inner thoughts Logan swore aloud. “What brought this on?” he demanded. “We were doin’ just fine last night.”

She ran her free hand through her disheveled hair. “We still are.”
“Funny, but you don’t smell fine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Nice.”

He stalked towards her, his movements fluid and graceful as always, the muscles rippling in his chest and abdomen. “Whatever it is yer uncertain about ‘Ro, don’t be. I’m exactly where and with who I want to be.” His fingers wrapped around her upper arms, hauling her closer. “We clear?”

Ororo tilted her head, studying his serious expression, feeling tension slowly ebb from her body at the intensity she saw there. He meant it. “Clear.”

“Good.” He kissed her quick and hard. “Now let’s get nekked.”

Ororo gave a breathless laugh. “We can’t lounge about naked all day, Logan.”

“Sez who?” He cupped her breasts through the sheet.

More insistent knocking. “Says them.” Ororo said with a regretful smile.

With an aggravated snort Logan strode past her, yanking open the door before she realized his intent. “What the hell do ya want?” he snarled.

Charles Xavier raised an eyebrow at the growling man in the bedroom doorway.

“Oh, hey, Chuck.” Logan ruffled the hair on the back of his head. He should have smelt the different person, but his mind had been elsewhere. “What’s up?”

Charles made no immediate reply, instead his eyes flicked from Logan’s face to tight boxer briefs and back again, then he peered past Logan‘s broad frame towards a startled looking Ororo.

Ororo maneuvered herself so that was pressed back behind the door, glaring at Logan. Instead of feeling contrite or embarrassed, Logan grinned from ear to ear.

Xavier cleared his throat. “You have guests.” He stated simply.

Logan frowned, immediately on alert. “Who?”

“I believe General Fury and several friends would like a word with you.”

From his tone Logan gathered that the “friends” were armed, and probably scaring the shit out of everyone. “I’ll be right there,” he growled. Fuckin’ Fury!

Xavier nodded. “Nice to see you up and about, Ororo.”

Behind the door Ororo buried her face in her hands, shaking her head.

When the door closed she raised her head, giving Logan a curious look. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ fer you to worry about.” He yanked on his jeans.

“Mmhm.” Ororo moved to her closet, pulling out one of her black knit tops and leather pants.

“Where you goin‘?”

“With you, of course.”

“I already said--”

“At what point in our relationship have I ever listened to you?”

“Hnh. Good point.” He felt a swell of possessiveness at the word relationship.

She smiled cheekily.


The lobby was crawling with S.H.I.E.L.D agents and people in lab coats. A fact that immediately set Logan on edge and made him ornery.

“What the fuck is this, Nicky?” He growled fiercely the moment he saw the tall general.

Nick Fury was not a man easily intimidated. His solitary gaze never wavered from Logan’s steel eyed glare. “I didn’t have time to wait for you to come to us when you were ‘damn good and ready’, so we came to you.”

Logan shook his head, disbelieving at Fury’s audacity. “You had no right. Now, take yer goons and go before I forget what ‘pals’ we are.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, Wolverine. I need to run these tests ASAP.”

“Why?” Ororo stepped beside Logan, glaring white fire at Fury.

“Confidential.”

“Then I suggest you piss off.”

Logan glanced at her, a smirk barely suppressed. Seeing her stare down Fury in his defense and Nick’s look of surprise was priceless. Surprise didn’t last long and was quickly replaced by cold, calculating authority.

“We can do this the easy way, or…” The General let his voice trail off as his men raised their weapons. “I’m sure Xavier, much like myself, would prefer the easy way.” He glanced at Charles who was seated behind Logan. “Isn’t that right, Professor?”

“Cooperation would be best.” Xavier held Fury’s eye. “But not required.”

Logan curled his lip. It wasn’t unusual for Nick to be difficult, but this went beyond his usual steamroll tactics. “Fine.”

“I believe our med lab will suit your purposes, General.” Xavier’s tone was seemingly indifferent, but there was a hard edge just beneath the surface.

“Very well.” Fury gestured to a couple of guards and lab coats. “Lead the way.”


Medlab


“Excuse me, Mr. Logan,” A slender, attractive blonde nurse approached him. She gave him an appreciative once over, her mouth parting slightly. She cleared her throat. “I’ll need you to remove your shirt please.”

“Not flamin’ likely, lady.”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Wolverine? You never were the shy type.”

Logan swiveled his head, following the accented, seductive voice of one of his many former mistresses as she strode through the hydraulic doors. “Natasha.” He glanced over at Ororo who was leaning against the far wall, her pose deceptively casual. She seemed uninterested in the conversation going on around her but he had picked up on the slight inclination of her head in his direction.

Ororo tried not to look but she couldn’t help herself. The woman approaching Logan was stunning by mild definition. Her blood red hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and her curvaceous figure was sinfully accented by her black leather uniform. Her full lips were a vibrant smear on an alabaster face. As she passed Ororo noticed the red hourglass on Natasha’s back. Natasha Romanov, The Black Widow. Nearly as legendary as the Wolverine. Great. Ororo thought with a narrowing of white eyes. Another damn redhead.

“Long time.” Logan acknowledged when Natasha stood directly in front of him.

“Not long enough.” Her voice was cold.

One side of his mouth kicked up. “Still sore are we?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His eyes drifted to where the red haired assassin’s hand rested on the hilt of the knife at her hip. “Gonna stick me?” He asked mildly.

“Considering it.” She smiled acid sweet. “One good poke deserves another.”

“Hnh.”

“It’s funny how we keep running into each other.”

“Yeah; real laugh riot.”

“Why you’re so damn important to Nick is beyond me.”

Logan didn’t say anything.

“Take your clothes off.”

“I thought it was just my shirt.”

“We’ll need to do a full examination.”

“Ya always were eager to get me stripped down.”

Natasha gave a small bark of bitter laughter. “Some things never change. Still as arrogant and cocky as ever.”

He gave his patented feral snarl. “I’m the best there is at what I do.”

“Debatable. Strip.”

“No.”

“As you’ve just so gentlemanly pointed out, it’s not as if I’ve never seen you naked before, Wolverine.” She reached forward, snapping buttons from his shirt.

Across the room Ororo made a short snort, crossing her arms over her chest.

The hydraulic doors hissed again allowing Cyclops, Jean, Warren and Alison entry. Ali approached Storm. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Ali leaned against the wall beside Ororo. She shoved her hands in her pockets, jingling the silver chains at her waist. “So, what the fuck’s going on? Xavier just mind wired us into coming down here. I was in the middle of…something. Talk about an annoying jumpstart.”

Ororo cocked her head, smiling slightly despite her growing foul mood. “Any particular reason you’re using jacking analogies?”

“Just so ya can relate better to my trauma,” Ali said dramatically.

“Mmhm.”

“So what’s really going on?”

Ororo shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I don’t have a clue.”

“Something to do with Badger-boy, though right?”

“Naturally.” A short pause, then, Badger-boy?”

“He started it.”

“Ah, yes, Sparkler.”

“Hey, you I’ll smack.” Ali warned. She turned towards the milling about soldiers and apparent doctors. “Who’s the S&M broad?”

“The Black Widow.” She said through closed teeth.

Ali raised a pierced brow. “Do I detect some hostile intentions, Stormy girl?”

“Only if that tart doesn’t step back about two feet in the next ten seconds.”

From his position across the room Logan winced. Natasha’s hearing was damn near as good as his own. No way she didn’t hear that.

“Are you referring to me?” Natasha asked, placing her hands at her hips.

“Easy, ‘Tasha.” Logan interceded.

“Don’t you ‘Tasha me.” She snapped. “If you have something to say little girl, then come say it to my face or I suggest you be silent.”

“Oh dear.” Ali murmured as Ororo straightened away from the wall.

Logan turned towards Ororo. “’Ro, this is--”

“I know who she is.” Ororo’s eyes snapped snippets of electricity.

Natasha smiled thinly. “I unfortunately can’t say the same. You are?”

“Ororo Munroe.” Nick Fury’s deep voice interrupted. “Weather manipulating mutant, team member of the X-Men, appropriately codenamed Storm, master thief, carjacker and illegal immigrant.”

“You forgot weekend stripper,” Ali added.

Ororo elbowed her in the side. “Former thief.” She raised her chin.

“We’ll see.” Nick turned his attention to Natasha. “Isn’t there somewhere else you need to be?”

“No.”

“Widow.” There was subtle warning in Fury’s tone.

Without another word the tall, statuesque woman turned and strode away from them without so much as a backward glance.

“She’s still angry about Russia.” The General said.

“Figured.” Logan grunted.

“What happened in Russia?” Ali asked impishly.

“Nothin’.” Logan glared.

Fury glanced at his watch. “The sooner you start cooperating, Logan, the sooner we’re out of your hair.”

“Fine.” He shrugged out of his shirt.

Pretty blonde nurse dropped a handful of glass tubes, blushing profusely.

Ororo rolled her eyes. For the love of--!

Logan cocked his head, interested in the scent Ororo was giving off. Possession. She was jealous. He grinned devilishly. Deciding he liked irking that little green monster he stretched, purposefully flexing as he did, giving the women quite a show. “So, who wants to examine me?”

Ororo grit her teeth as several female doctors and one male nearly tripped over each other trying to get to him. “You’re obviously going to be well taken care of, so I think I‘ll go where I‘m needed.” Her voice was sedate, and for anyone that didn’t really know her they’d assume she was laid back and relaxed, but Logan knew better.

Before she could take a step his hand shot out, grasping her wrist. When she lifted her eyes to his he murmured, “I need you here.”

Warmth spread through Ororo. She felt Logan’s thumb stroke against her pulse point. “Ok.”

Fury looked between the two, his dark gaze speculative, his mind running on overdrive. “If we’re set, then let’s begin.”



Two hours later


“You were jealous.”

Ororo paused mid-bite, her sandwich gripped in both hands. “What?”

Logan rocked back in his chair. They were seated in the kitchen, eating for the first time that day. “You were jealous of ‘Tasha.”

Ororo set her sandwich back onto her plate carefully. “I was no such thing.”

“You were.”

“No. You are mistaken.”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows on the table, smiling. “And yer full of shit.”

Ororo sighed. “That obvious?”

Logan chuckled. “It was…unexpected.”

“Yeah, for me too,” she admitted. “Sorry.”

“I ain’t.” His eyes darkened. “Ya really amaze me sometimes.”

Ororo blushed. “Yes, getting insanely jealous and wanting to scratch out eyes is very amazing.”

Logan pushed his chair back, moving around the table so that he crouched beside her chair. Ororo turned towards him and he settled between her thighs, wrapping his thick arms around her waist. “Yer good fer me, baby.”

Ororo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” Logan lifted the bottom of her shirt, running his hands along her bareback and over her toned midriff.

Immediately Ororo felt herself melting. Then she was squealing in the most unladylike manner as Logan mercilessly pressed his whiskered face to her belly, blowing against the skin in a wet rumble.

Logan!!” Ororo tried to wiggle from his grip, her peels of laughter washing over Logan like warm rain.

He lifted his head, laughing. “Beg fer mercy!”

“Never!” She shrieked again as his fingers tickled her ribcage and his tongue assailed her navel. The chair wobbled, sending them crashing to the floor. In that moment the kitchen doors swung open and Scott, Jean and Xavier filled the entryway.

Logan picked his head up, his eyes dancing. Ororo tilted back, blowing strands of hair from her face. “Uh, hi.” She couldn’t remove the smile on her face.

Logan adjusted Ororo’s shirt, his own grin undiminished by the intrusion. “Afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Wolverine, Storm.” Xavier greeted smoothly as if seeing his two most reserved and independent X-Men laying in a giggling heap on the kitchen floor was an everyday occurrence.

Logan helped Ororo to her feet, before lifting the fallen chair and righting it. “Just having some lunch,” he informed the three onlookers.

As if to verify his statement Ororo grabbed her sandwich, holding it slightly aloft as though for observation. She caught Logan’s eye out of the corner of hers and she knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet by the wicked gleam in his. “Excuse me,” she murmured hurriedly, dropping the sandwich back onto the plate and sprinting for the back door.

Logan growled, giving chase, the door slamming shut behind him.

Jean, Scott and Xavier stayed motionless for a moment.

“Weird.” Scott said finally. “You know I didn’t even know he could do that.”

“What?” Jean asked, still a bit flabbergasted.

“Laugh.” Scott supplied.

Xavier remained silent, his thoughts turned inward.



Later


Ororo lay in bed her heart thundering in her ears. Nightmares had once again invaded her sensual dreams and left her feeling cold inside. Cold…and scared. There had been blood, so much blood. And the screaming. She shuddered. She didn’t think she’d ever get the sounds of the screaming from her ears.

She rubbed her arms absently, listening to the sound of Logan’s breathing.
He lay on his side, one arm slung around her waist possessively, his hand resting under the swell of her breast. Just that small gesture sent her heart into fluttery overdrive. Feeling slightly cramped she shifted position. The moment she did the arm snaked about her waist tightened. “It ain’t even light yet, darlin’.” His voice was gruff from sleep.

She loved that sound, savoring the rough timbre. “It’s almost dawn,” she whispered.

“Hnh.” He rolled onto his back, his eyes drifting moodily over her face. “Something happened.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

She scooted upright, leaning forward so that her hair fell in a shimmering curtain between them. “Yes.”

Logan stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. When it became apparent she wasn’t going to without a nudge he too sat up. “What is it?” He brushed her hair aside.
Without a word Ororo held her arm out to him.

For a moment he didn’t understand, then he saw. “’Ro!” He gripped her arm firmly, but carefully. From wrist to shoulder burn marks were swelling, darkening against the smooth caramel of her skin.

She felt her chin quiver, hating that, and she took a deep breath. “There’s more. I’m seeing…differently.”

Logan cradled her face. “What do you mean?”

Ororo lifted her shoulders a bit defensively. “It’s hard to explain. I see…energy. I think that’s what I’m seeing. It’s different waves.” She turned towards him. “I can see the electrical synapses in your brain, Logan.”

“This hasn’t ever happened before?”

“No.” She shivered. “And I’m cold.”

“You don’t get cold.”

“I do now.” She bit her lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll go wake Chuck.” He moved towards the edge of the bed.

“No!” Ororo grabbed his shoulders.

“’Ro. You said yerself ya didn’t understand. Maybe Xavier will.”

She knew he was right. “Okay. But in the morning, at a respectable hour.”

He wanted to argue, but decided that he’d take the small acquiesce. He lifted her wrist, tracing the burn marks with puffs of cool air. “These hurt?”

She shook her head. “Not much.”

He pulled her towards him, stretching out so that she could curl against his chest. He stroked wisps of hair away from her face.

She tangled her fingers through his. “I killed you.” Her voice was tired.

“Hm?”

She snuggled closer, like she was trying to press herself inside of him. “In my dream. I killed you.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “It was just a dream, baby.”

Ororo closed her eyes, trying not to think about the dream. Trying not to remember the blood and screams…trying to dim the horrors of her mind, but most of all, she lay pressed against Logan, shivering, trying desperately to forget how good it all felt.

“Aaawww…” Ororo held her mouth open obediently, allowing Professor Xavier to peer past her depressed tongue.

“Good.” He tossed the stick into the trash, clicking off the penlight he held before sliding it into the front pocket of his lab coat. Dexterous hands pressed at her glands, moving along her throat to her collar bone. “Any fever?”

She shook her head. “Just chills.”

“Hm.” He lifted a file folder from the bench, making a note. “When did you first experience the burns?”

“At Logan’s cabin. While I was meditating.”

Again a quick scribble. “And the vision change?”

She pressed her hands beside her legs, leaning forward, swinging her feet over the end of the examination table. “Recent.”

Xavier cast her a sidelong glance. “How recent?”

“This morning.”

Scribble. “Before or after you noticed the burns.”

“After.”

“May I?” He gestured towards her arm.

Ororo rolled her sleeve, wincing as the fabric brushed the markings. They hadn’t blistered as she had feared they might, instead darkening nearly black, laying flatly against her skin, almost beneath.

The Professor snapped on a pair of vinyl gloves, running his nimble fingers along the design. “If it is all right with you, Storm, I’d like to photograph the marks, for documentation and reference.”

“Uhm, sure…”

Xavier noted her hesitation and the wayward flick of her eyes.

“Is there something the matter?” Charles asked, being certain to keep his voice neutral for her benefit.

“No, not really.” Ororo knew it was futile to try and hide anything from Xavier, he could peel her mind like a fruit if he chose. “It’s just that there are…more.”

“More marks. Where?”

Ororo hopped from the table, pulling her long sleeved shirt over her head and holding it to her chest. She turned, exposing her bare back to Xavier. She kept her head down so that her hair fell forward, away from the insignia taking residence across her shoulders and down her spine. It was a defensive posture, yet one that revealed a vulnerability normally hidden.

Silently Xavier picked up the digital camera from the counter, snapping several pictures in rapid succession. He studied the design closely. One long straight line across the breadth of her shoulders, several smaller, angular lines feathering down to converge at her spine where they merged again into a solid line disappearing beneath the waist band of Ororo’s pants. “When did these occur?” Charles asked, snapping a few more pictures of her arm.

“This morning while I was in the shower. All set?” She asked when the clicking stopped.

“Yes, you may put your shirt back on.” Xavier set the camera down, once again picking up the file folder. “The first time this happened, you were in Canada. Where are the marks from that?”

Ororo shrugged back into her top, smoothing her hair. “They faded.”

“The marks just vanished?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “After a couple of days they were gone.”

“Mm.” Xavier bent his head jotting into his notes. “I trust you were in good hands in Alberta. Wolverine seems very protective of you. It’s refreshing to see him making some emotional progress as well, I think you two are very good for one another.”

Affectionate warmth filled Ororo at Charles‘ observation. In all honesty she had never thought of Logan as the protective, caring type. Possessive, sure. Protective, not so much. Yet here she was, being examined by Xavier and instead of going out in the fresh air, or honing his skills in the Danger Room, Logan stood outside the med lab door, exactly where he had been since she had come down an hour ago.

“I don’t think I ever heard Wolverine laugh until recently.” Xavier continued nonchalantly. “Then again, I’d never seen him in his boxers before either.”

Ororo choked back a startled laugh, blushing furiously. “Uhm--about that…”

He lifted amused blue eyes to hers and waved a hand. “You’re young, healthy and beyond consenting age, Ororo. I’d be an utter fool to believe that everyone in this Institute that goes to their room at night, remains in their room.” Charles closed the file on his lap, capping his pen. “Now, back on track.”

“Yes.” Ororo gave a grateful sigh.

“The good news is that I truthfully I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Mutation is still complicated and mysterious. Often times, mutants that exhibit one power or certain powers are limited to those powers, however, there are many mutants that have latent mutant gifts, mostly undiscovered. I think the signs you are showing and the visionary changes are a part of your mutation.”

“Please explain,” Ororo said, wary of feeling relieved, but wanting to be so.

“Henry was working on just such a study before his untimely death.” Charles said. “We discovered that being mutated in one area did not make you necessarily mutated in other areas. Take telepaths for instance. Some of the most powerful telepaths show no signs of telekinetic skills. Then there are those with powers that defy all known research, like Jean. Scarlet Witch, Magneto’s daughter, is another prime example. She has tremendous mental gifts, yet carries none of the magnetism potential or speed of her father and brother. Mutation is still in the early stages of research; there are a lot of unknowns.”

“But you’re pretty certain that I’m just coming into another set of powers?”

“Not even to that extreme. I think your gifts are evolving is all. You see energy patterns and electrical impulses. Considering your ability to manipulate the weather I’m not surprised by that. How did you create a tornado before?”

Ororo shrugged. “I just did. Sometimes I have no control over it, you know that. It’s directly tied into my emotions.”

The Professor nodded sagaciously. “Yes. A unique fact in and of itself. But when you do it consciously, what happens?”

“Well, I can just kind of feel the weather around me. Then I kind of mold it into what I want it to be. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

“That’s good. Because I think that your being able to fully see those patterns as opposed to simply feeling them is an upward step in your mutation. A maturation if you will.” He gave her a gentle, concerned smile. “My only real concern are the burn marks.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “What are those?”

“I, again, think the markings are directly related to your mutation,” Xavier said. “The burn markings, from what you told me, come from lightning scorching you. Lightning that you control.” He waited for the words to sink in before continuing. “I think that these marks are psychological on your part, Ororo. I think that you are subconsciously seeking to hurt yourself. And that worries me.” Xavier didn’t mince words. “I know you blame yourself for Henry’s death. I also know about your frequent visits to his grave, and the ‘visits’ you have had with him. Couple that with the trauma you received at the hands of Sabertooth, and the rolling emotions I feel inside of you right now, and you have a recipe for disaster.”

Ororo shook her head, “I wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps not consciously, Storm. But these marks appear when you are not fully aware. Sleep, meditation…tell me, were you daydreaming in the shower this morning?”
She had been, she realized. She had been mentally revisiting her dream from the night before. Could Xavier be right? Could it all be in her head? Was she crazy?
Xavier waited before continuing, feeling her subtle tension.

After a moment she asked, “What are you suggesting, Professor?”

“Counseling.”

“No.” Ororo denied hastily. “I don’t want you or anyone else here traipsing through my mind.”

Charles looked somewhat offended by that, but recovered quickly. “Then perhaps an outside counselor. Emma Frost is an old colleague and a reputable therapist. I am certain I can set up a meeting--”

“I’d rather not.”

“Storm, you shouldn’t be so quick to refuse.”

She turned narrowed eyes on him. “Would you go?”

“We aren’t talking about me,” he evaded.

Sensing Ororo’s rising ire Charles decided it best to relent for the moment. “Why don’t you take some time to think on it, Storm. But I do strongly encourage you to speak to someone about what it is your feeling. In the meantime I‘ll give you a mild sedative to help you get a restful sleep.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Charles patted her knee, one of his rare gestures of affection. “We all just want what’s best for you.”






“Neat.” Alison ran her painted fingertips down Ororo’s back. “Can ya do me?”

Ororo adjusted her shirt. “I don’t think it works like that. I’m pretty sure a few hundred thousand volts of electricity wouldn’t agree with you so well.” The girls were once more in Alison’s bedroom, spending some time together.

“Figures.” Ali said. “So, Mr. Clean suggested seeing a mind manip?”

Ororo knew well Ali’s disdain for psychiatrists. When she had first started to rebel against her parents they had sent her to a doctor that, as Ali put it, took a moderately screwed up mind and fucked it up like a two dollar whore on thirsty Thursdays. Whatever that meant. Sometimes even Ororo’s Ali-nese was off.

“Yes. Professor Xavier thinks I am in need of counseling.”

“What does he know?” Ali peeshawed. “He hardly knows any of us. We’re little blips on his mental radar. Tiny little toy soldiers he sends ever marching off to war. We are, we are the youth of the nation.” Ali leapt onto her bed, her voice raised in song, her fisted hand in the air.

“You are such a goober.” Ororo yanked the bedspread, felling her friend.

“Goobers are lame. I’m an everlasting gobstopper, baby.”

“See. My point exactly.”

Ali flipped up her middle finger. “Sit on it dry, chica.”

“Pleasant.”

“Menh. So where’s the Wolvster now?”

“In the garage. Jean needed him to look at her coupe.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Ororo lifted her hands. “I have to be. If I can’t trust him, then I shouldn’t be with him.”

“Good point. Besides, it ain’t like Jean can compete with what you offer anyways.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Ali made an explosive gesture with her arms lights flashing. “Crash, boom, rafter shaking sexcapades!”

Instead of being overly embarrassed Ororo simply rubbed her hand over a bubbled paint scorch on the wall above the headboard. “And what’s this?” she teased.

“That?” Ali grinned. “Was when I was sitting on Kurt’s face.”

“Ali!” Sometimes the girl was just too open.

“You asked. Don’t ask if you don’t wanna know. Freak.”

Ororo flopped backwards onto the mattress, bobbing as the springs adjusted. “Ali?”

“Hm?” Alison pulled out her bottle of ultra hold mega gel, readying herself to spike her hair in the mirror. Xavier had given them all the night off, telling them all to go into town and have fun. It was an unexpected, but not unappreciated offer.

“I’m really scared.” Ororo said, whisper soft.

Ali slowly put her bottle of gel down. She turned towards Ororo. “Okay, Stormy. What aren’t you telling?”

“I hear screaming.”

“What? Right now?” Ali frowned, concern making her lips tighten.

“All day.” Ororo confided. “It hasn’t stopped since this morning. It‘s ever present in the back of my mind.”

“And lemme guess, you didn’t think it relevant to mention that you could hear someone screaming in your head to the Professor?” Her mouth opened in disbelief.

“Not just someone, Al. It sounds like….hundreds of voices. They terrify me.”

Alison sat slowly onto the bed. “That’d scare the shit outta me too. Freaky voices screeching on the inside can’t be cool.”

“No.” Ororo sat up, holding her head between her hands. “I don’t know what is happening to me. I feel so out of sync.”

“Maybe you just need more fiber.”

“Funny.”

Neither one laughed.

“Maybe…Hmm….?” For the first time in their acquaintance Alison seemed at a loss for words.

“I’m probably just tired. Or crazy.” Ororo tried to smile.

“Doubtful. The crazies don’t know they’re crazed.” Ali pointed out. “So as long as your questioning it, then you aren’t nuts.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Hey, I do what I can.”

“You do enough.” Deciding it best not to wallow in self pity Ororo stood, brushing her hands along the front of her pants. “So, what have you got for me that will make Logan drool?”

Pushing down a wave of concern for her friend Ali grinned impishly. “Feeling naughty are we?”

Ororo winked at her. “You must be rubbing off.”

“I tend to do that.” Ali pulled open her closet door. She gave Ororo and assessing glance over her shoulder. “Lavender, maybe blue, definitely black, and definitely leather.”

“What are you doing?”

“Mentally cataloguing.” Ali pulled out a spaghetti strapped lavender top. She held it up against Storm. “Mmmm. No.” She tossed it aside. A black shredded tee was next. “Blech.” Ali’s nose curled.

After several more tries and tosses Ororo asked, “Is this going to take long?”

“Silence.” Ali chastised. “This is art. You can’t rush art. I am a visionary. I will peer deep into your soul and pull out the inner you and display it for all the world to see. Hmmmm…” Ali leaned closer, peering into Ororo’s eyes. She leaned back, feigning surprise. “Hello Kitty? Your inner self is ‘Hello Kitty’? Odd.”

“You know, Al, you get weirder exponentially.”

“Thank you. Now let‘s get moving. There‘s a sexy blue furred B.A.M.F waiting for me.”

“B.A.M.F?”

Ali grinned. “Bad ass mother fucker.”

As they dressed Ororo felt herself relaxing. It felt good telling someone about the voices in her head, and it felt even better that Alison didn’t act any different towards her. Maybe that was all she needed to do was tell someone and now things would get better.





“Stop fidgetin‘, Elf.” Logan growled. He and Kurt were seated at a semi circular booth, along with Jean, Scott, Kitty, Peter, and Warren. Ororo and Alison were on the dance floor shaking their asses and Bobby and Rogue had decided to catch a movie.

“I can’t help it.” Kurt said. “I’m not used to being out in the open like this.” His yellow eyes flickered in the shadows.

“Relax, Bub. Take a look around, you ain’t the strangest lookin’ person in the room.” Logan pointed out, sliding a fresh beer towards Kurt. His gaze perused the club, taking in the occupants, calculating, assessing, making certain he was aware of every person that may represent any type of threat.

“Yeah, Kurt, relax.” Kitty poked his shoulder good naturedly. “Alison is way stranger than you any day.”

Kurt’s tail curled around the beer, lifting it to his mouth smiling at the reference to Ali.

Two female passerby’s stopped, watching him drink. They gave him flirtatious smiles and waves to no avail.

“Hi.” One of the two approached the table, deciding to make a more pronounced attempt. She was tall and shapely, clad in a low cut red leather dress, her curly brown hair falling about her pretty face in thick ringlets. “Would you like to dance?”

“I don’t dance,” Warren interjected.

The curly haired woman blinked. “I was asking him.” She pointed at Kurt.

Warren flushed.

Kurt looked confused.

“You want to dance with me?” he asked for clarification.

“Oh, definitely.” The brunette said huskily. “To start with.”

Logan leaned back against the bench, adjusting his cowboy hat, a smirk on his face. Waiting.

“Step off, Suzie Q, unless you want to be gargling teeth.” Alison’s booted foot swung over the back of the bench, as she climbed over the wall separating the tables and the dance floor, sliding in beside Kurt. “He’s taken.”

The curly haired vixen was not easily swayed. “He’s not wearing a ring.”

Ali fairly growled.

Kurt seemed completely at a loss. Women were fighting over him. Over him.

~Put your arm around Dazzler.~

Kurt jumped a bit at Jean’s voice in his mind. He curved his arm across Ali’s shoulder. “Thank you for the offer,” he said. “But I am spoken for.”

Ali’s mouth curved. “See? Taken. Now shoo.”

“That’s too bad.” The brunette murmured. She turned her sultry gaze towards Logan.

“He’s gay.” Ali spoke up.

Logan shot her a narrow look.

“Yes. He too is taken.” Peter slid closer to Logan, his thick arm resting along the back of the bench.

“Tin can, yer about two seconds away from being scrap metal.” Logan growled under his breath.

Ororo approached the table, drawing the attention of just about every male in the bar as she sashayed her hips to the music as she walked. “Hallo.” She gave the unknown brunette at their table a smile, then turned to Logan. “Dance?”

“Don’t bother. He’s gay.” The brunette supplied before walking away.

Ororo blinked rapidly, then she caught Ali’s grin and almost laughed out loud. “Oh. Well, in that case I’ll take Birdman.” Ororo reached for Warren’s hand.

“Ye’ll do no such thing.” Logan was out of his seat. “Let’s go.”

“But you don’t dance,” Jean commented sipping her Blue Hawaiian.

Logan shrugged. “Things change.”

“And some things don’t,” Scott muttered watching Jean watch Logan. In the months that they’d been together things had been good, great even, but ever since Wolverine’s return to the team Jean had been different. Nothing overly dramatic, but subtle differences that ate at him. Like her not holding his hand when Logan was in the room. Or her moody sulkiness for the month Logan had taken Ororo to Alberta. When he had asked her about it she had become defensive, calling Logan an ‘unpredictable psychopath’. Sometimes Scott wondered if Jean chose him because she loved him, or because Wolverine scared her.

“What does that mean?” Jean demanded, frowning.

“Nothing.” Scott said.

Jean gave him a haughty glare. “Lying to a telepath is a bit ridiculous. If you have something to say, Scott, then say it!”

“I think that’s out cue to go,” Logan murmured against Ororo’s ear.

“I think you still want Wolverine. There I said it.” Scott scowled angrily.

Logan groaned. Ororo tensed.

Ali leaned forward, rubbing her hands together. “This is better than Soapnet.”

“Guys, is this really the place for this?” Kitty interjected, trying to be the voice of reason.

Jean sloshed her drink. “That’s crazy.”

“I don’t think it is.” Scott countered. “You’re always telling me to be more direct, more spontaneous, more passionate. It’s like your trying to make me more like him.” Scott pointed an accusing finger at Logan. “It’s his name you call out in your sleep.”

“Well, this is awkward.” Kitty murmured, sitting back, no longer trying to diffuse the impending bomb, instead, like everyone else at the table, waiting for the explosion.

Jean stood, knocking over her drink. “For God’s sake, Scott, I can’t help what I dream!”

Scott stood as well, his voice dangerously soft. “How about when we have sex? We share a mind-link, remember?”

Jean spluttered, her face becoming dull crimson. She glanced uneasily between Scott and Logan.

“I think this conversation needs ta end now.” Logan said. “Go home, Scooter. Take Jeannie and go sleep it off.” He could feel the hairs on his neck rising, the only indication as to how upset Scott’s careless words actually made the silent Ororo.

“What’s the matter, Wolverine? Afraid I’ll tell Ororo I saw you and Jean kissing?”

Ororo felt like she’d been sucker punched.

“Whoa.” Ali was suddenly less amused by the drama unfolding.

“Logan?” Ororo stepped away from him and turned to face him.

“It was nothin’, ‘Ro.” Logan cursed himself. He had thought it best to leave well enough alone, not realizing Jean’s impromptu kiss in the garage earlier had been witnessed.

“It sure as hell didn’t look like nothing.” Scott pointed out. “It took you a full minute to come up for air.”

Logan swore. He had been surprised by the lack of emotion he felt with Jean in his arms, and the curious absence of desire in their kiss. He had been so caught up in the thoughts of how unaffected he had been, it had taken him a moment to break the kiss. But he had broken it, and told Jean that he was not interested. “Jean was just thankin’ me for fixing her car.” He growled.

“Well,” Scott said, a hard edge to his voice. “’Ro bought the drinks tonight. So I guess thanks are in order.” Before anyone guessed his intentions Scott’s arms snaked around Ororo, pulling her against him as he lay his mouth over hers in a deep kiss.

-SNIKT- Logan saw red. Immediate, angry, blood lust, red. “Don’t!” He reached for Ororo.

Ororo knew she shouldn’t play with fire, but Logan’s betrayal hurt. It hurt more than she was willing to admit. Closing her eyes, she lent herself up into the kiss full measure, wrapping her arms around Scott’s neck and allowing the kiss to continue rather than slap him. When they parted Scott looked a bit dazed. “You’re welcome.” Ororo said, glaring at Wolverine.

Logan stared at her, his canines flashing as he panted, fighting against the desire to eviscerate Scott right then and there. He growled, low and deep in his throat, close to losing the fight with himself. Scott stared at him from behind ruby shades, his mouth set in a grim line, his jaw tilted, not backing down, almost daring Logan to come at him.

Never one to back down from a challenge he drew back, claws extended.

Screams rent the club interior, for a moment drowning out the thrumming bass of the floor music, as the ceiling shook and the roof off the club was torn away. Dozens of red laser lights scanned the occupants of the club.

“Halt, mutants!”

“Holy shit!” Alison yelled covering her head as the disco balls throughout the club came crashing down. “Sentinels!”

“Move, move, move!” Cyclops ordered.

Smoke bombs dropped into the club, filling the room in acrid blinding blackness.

“Status!” Cyclops demanded. “Call out.”

“Shadowcat.” Kitty’s voice came out of the smoke.

Followed by, “Colossus.”

Then, “Nightcrawler.”

“Angel.”

“Marvel Girl.”

“Where’s Ali?” Storm demanded. “Kurt? Where is Ali?”

“I can’t see her.” Came Kurt’s frantic return.

“Wolverine?” Storm called out. “Can you smell her?”

“The smoke’s too thick. Can’t smell shit.”

“Everyone find cover!” She stood.

“’Ro, what the hell ya doin’?”

“Clearing the air.” Palms turned upright, Ororo lifted her hands and immediately the dust and debris swirled, clearing the smoke and allowing the team to assess the situation. “Does anyone see Ali?”

“Mein Gott!”

“Kurt what is it?” Storm was damn near panicked. “Did you find her? Kurt!?”

With the room cleared Logan could smell it. Blood. Lots of it. And some of it was Ali’s. He swung his gaze to where Storm stood, her blue eyes pleading with someone to answer her. “Darlin’…”

“No!” she screamed. “NO!” Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the walls in much the same way the Sentinels had.

“Hostile mutant.”

“You haven’t seen hostile!” Lightening flashed in her eyes, dancing along her fingertips. She took to the air on a powerful arctic blast.

“Storm!” Wolverine bellowed. “Damn it!” he grabbed Warren. “Get me up there.” He pointed through the gaping hole in the roof, sparks raining from the severed wires.

Warren shook his head. “Can’t.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” Wolverine snarled.

“I really can’t.” Warren tried to spread his wings, nearly screaming in agony.

“Everyone get clear. Let’s get outside!” Cyclops ordered. “Kurt, you got her?”

“Ja.” Kurt’s voice shook with anger and remorse. *BAMF*

Once outside the team watched in startled wonder as night turned to day, streak after streak of white hot lightning whipping across the sky, sizzling in the rain. Black clouds swirled, frothing over one another and growling like angry living things.

“She can’t possibly drop them all, “ Jean called out. “She’ll burn herself out.”

Wolverine grabbed Colossus. “You got a decent throwing arm?”

“What?”

“Throw me.”

“You can’t be serious.” Kitty said.

“Very.” He locked eyes with Peter. “You up to it?”

“I am strong.” There was a strange rippling sound as Peters skin shifted, transforming from smooth flesh to pristine steel in a fraction of a second.

Clang! Logan hit the first Sentinel between it’s glowing eyes. “Howdy.” He sunk his fists into the machine, then pushed himself downward, splitting the titanium shell.

On the ground Cyclops blasted another set of metal monstrosities. “Marvel Girl, send Kitty to get the van.”

“Already done.”

“Good. We’re leaving.” He could see tanks rumbling towards them. “Looks like we got more company. Fall back!”

~Wolverine. Get Storm, we’re falling back.~

“Any suggestion as to how?” He demanded. Storm was still high above them, whipping lightning bolts at the remaining six Sentinels.

~I’ll levitate you up to her.~

It was a weird feeling being picked up telekinetically. “’Roro!”

Storm didn’t glance at him.

“’Ro!”

“LEAVE!” Thunder boomed and lightening slammed into the ground. Ororo raged, her soaked hair shielding her face from him.

The sky opened up and a torrential downpour spilled from the heavens, the full concentration of it directed on one singular location; the remains of the fallen Sentinel that had torn the roof from the club. Flashes of white hot heat split the sky. The clouds began to spin, faster and faster overhead. A dull roar, like the one Logan had heard in the Amazon rumbled through the air. Civilians screamed.

The X-men glanced uneasily up at their raging friend, then between each other.

Logan‘s voice was harsh. “Jeannie.”

~Yes?~

“Shut her down.”

Jean nodded once, closing her eyes.

Up in the sky Ororo could feel Jean nudging her way into her mind, but didn’t care. All she wanted to rip everything apart. The feeling was overwhelming and welcome. The screaming in her mind sang in approval. Destroy. Hurt. Kill.

“I can’t!” Jean called. “I can’t get in.”

“Then get me closer.”

“Wolverine, she wants to kill.”

“No shit.” His feet touched the pavement. “What now?”

*BAMF* “Maybe we can help.”

So caught up in the fury of the storm she was creating Ororo almost missed the spectacular lightshow on the ground, but as she was about to let loose completely she caught a flash of aquamarine out of the corner of her eye. Hardly daring to believe, she lowered herself slowly to the ground.

“Jesus Christ, Freakshow.” Ali called from the warm sanctuary of Kurt‘s embrace. “I ain’t dead yet, and I’d like not to be, so can we go?”

“Al?” Ororo raced forwards, falling onto her knees in front of her friend. “You’re okay?”

“A bit banged up and bruised, but otherwise fine.” Ali nodded. “Stop fretting. I take more of a beating at one of my concerts.”

Ororo gave a hiccup sob and hugged her.

“Okay, okay.” Ali sniffed. “I love you too, tweaker.”

Tires squealed and the black Xavier Institute van skid through the parking lot. “All aboard!” Kitty called.

“Please, someone tell me she isn’t driving!” Ali said. “I’ll take my chances with the two ton robot.”

“Let’s go home.” Scott said.

“Yes.” Jean approached him, her green eyes wary. He held his hand out. She threw herself into his arms.

Logan watched the exchange, feeling and odd sense of relief. He let his gaze wander to Ororo, who was helping Ali limp into the van. Would they be all right? That question plagued him all the way back to the mansion, as he trailed the van on his bike.

Alone.

Medlab

“Stop fussing. I’m fine.” Ali griped, rolling her eyes when both Kurt and Ororo ignored her. She hissed a quick breath as a cold cloth was pressed to her swelling cheek.

“See, you are not fine.” Kurt admonished, his yellow eyes still ablaze with repressed anger and concern. He adjusted the cloth. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Ali smiled tenderly up at him from her temporary bed.

“Here.” Ororo moved to stand behind the head of the bed and ran her fingers through Ali’s dark hair, picking out shards of disco ball mirror.

“I feel like a primate,” Ali grumbled.

“Mm.” Ororo was noncommittal, her hands shaking with the aftermath of everything that had transpired.

News of the sentinel attack had reached the Institute before they had and Xavier had greeted them at the front doors, immediately taking Alison to the medlab to be looked at--despite Ali’s repeated protests and complaints.

Ororo had followed, needing to assure herself that Ali was indeed fine. It had been slightly amusing to watch Xavier examine a very cranky Alison while at the same time trying to work around Kurt, who had refused to relinquish Ali from his arms.

Although relatively certain that Ali was out of any significant danger, Xavier had ordered her to sleep in the infirmary where he could monitor her overnight. Ali had argued but a three fingered hand over her mouth and an “Of course, Professor,” from Kurt had silenced even that rebellion. It was hard to resist Kurt, Ororo mused. He was just too warm and fuzzy and downright attractive.

His playful humor did nothing, however, to disguise his genuine distress over Ali being wounded in the Sentinel skirmish. He had yet to leave her side even for a moment. Not that Ororo could blame him; the attack had left them all shaken. The reminder of their own mortality at the hands of government machines designed for the sole purpose of mutant annihilation was a grim one.

Noticing that Ororo’s fingers had stopped combing, Ali leaned her head back. “You all right, sunshine?”

Ororo cleared her throat. “Sure.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, well…I almost lost you , Ali.” Ororo dropped a handful of mirror into the small wastebasket under the counter. “Forgive me if I find that prospect a bit disconcerting.”

Al waved a hand, giving a dramatic laugh. “It takes more than an oversized Go-Bot to take me out.”

“Not funny, Al.”

“Agreed.” Kurt’s tail swished. “You do not know what it was like to see you laying on that floor, covered in blood, Alison. I do not think I will ever get that image from my head.” His voice shook and a dark streak appeared in the fur of his face.

“I’m right here, Fuzzy.” Alison tugged his hand, pulling him down to her.

Crouched beside her, Kurt pressed his forehead to hers, taking care to mind her cheek. “You scared me to death.”

“Sorry.” Alison whispered.

Deciding that she was one more person than was required in the room, Ororo kissed the crown of Ali’s bent head and ruffled Kurt’s hair. “I’ll see you in the morning. Get some rest.”

Ali turned her head. “You too. And, Ororo…”

Ali rarely used her name, making her pause. “Yes?”

“You were a little scary yourself.”

Ororo didn’t know what to say so she sidestepped the comment. “Goodnight, Ali. Take care of her, Kurt.”

“Always,” he vowed, his golden eyes never leaving Alison.





The mansion was unusually somber Ororo noticed as the elevator doors slid shut behind her. Given the events of the evening the shroud of disquiet that settled around the Institute was not unexpected, but it was still unsettling.

Slowly she made her way along the corridor, heading away from the classrooms and lobby towards the bedrooms. Small amber motion detector lights flickered to life as she strode the hall, their warm glow lighting her way. Not that she needed them. She would have known the way in the darkest of darks. An old habit of hers, she supposed. A desire to know where she was at all times, to know the terrain, map the buildings and keep it all mentally catalogued.

As she ascended the staircase, her hand resting lightly on the polished banister, her thoughts turned towards Logan, wondering where it was he had gone. He had not returned to the Institute with them and she wondered what he was thinking, and if he was coming back for her at all.

She inhaled a stuttering breath, trying in vain to push thoughts of him aside. It still hurt to think of him with Jean, kissing; the visual made worse by her imagination. In the van Jean had tried only once to speak to her, but a projected image of Ororo punching her hand through ribs and ripping out Jean’s still beating heart had effectively stopped Jean from attempting again.

Her room was cast in shadow, only a sliver of moonlight on her bedspread offered any relief to the gloom. With deliberate movements Ororo made her way to her dresser, removing the long earrings from her ears, pulling off the black bracelets on her arms, laying them carefully atop her vanity. Each motion was slow, methodical and meticulous; anything to prevent her mind from wandering back to Logan.

Once divested of all her clothing, save her white lace panties she crawled atop her bed, determined to sleep. She wasn’t going to think of Logan, she wasn’t…




***



Ororo was weeping. Logan’s stomach knotted. The sound was soft and muffled, most likely by her pillows, but he heard her and it broke his heart. In all his life, Wolverine never imagined that the sound of a woman weeping would tear him up the way Ororo’s soft cries were. He should have come to her immediately instead of riding to clear his head, and to rid himself of still lingering adrenaline.

He stood frozen outside her door, his head cocked, listening and debating with himself. What the hell was he going to say to her? ‘Hey, baby, sorry I didn’t tell you the one woman you’re insecure about was cramming her tongue in my mouth earlier, and even though I once tried to kill her pencil necked boyfriend, this kiss did nothing for me, pinky swear.’ Yeah, right, like she’d even let him get a single word out before sending a lightning bolt straight up his ass.

Another muted sob reached his ears. To hell with it, he thought with a grimace, turning the handle, mildly surprised to find the door unlocked.

Logan stopped short upon entering the room, momentarily frozen by the sight Ororo presented laying facedown on her bed in a pool of pale moonlight, her silvery hair shimmering and her bare back shaking with gentle force as she cried.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his side, uncertainty warring with fierce desire. He wanted to soothe her, to take her pain and make it his own. Silently he tugged off his weather beaten leather jacket, setting it atop his removed boots, followed by his shirt and jeans.

Still oblivious to him Ororo sniffled, cursing his name into the cotton of her pillow, garnering a small self derided smile from Logan. He lowered himself onto the bed, pulling Ororo back against him before she registered what was happening.

“Logan!” She gave a startled cry, trying to remove the steel band arm around her waist, immediately attempting to move away from him,.

“Easy, darlin’.” He murmured against the soft skin directly behind her ear.

Ororo shivered, cursing him again for his effect on her. “Let go.”

“No.”

After a few ineffectual moments of struggling she finally lay still, slightly panting, waiting.

He nuzzled the crook of her neck. “I hate when you cry.” His voice was gruff.

Ororo stiffened. “I know, it’s a waste of time and weak. I know.”

Logan shushed her, turning her to face him despite her resistance. “It ain’t that, darlin’.” He cradled her face, forcing her to meet his gaze, his eyes glinting like polished steel, hers swimming like cerulean pools.

“Then what?” she whispered, captivated by the smoldering intensity in his eyes.

“Ya tear apart my insides,” he confessed in a low voice. “I can’t stand that yer hurtin’ and that I’m the cause of it.”

Still defiant, despite the kick in her heart his words caused, Ororo tilted her chin. “I’m upset about what happened to Ali.”

Logan’s thumb traced the contours of her cheek, smearing the tears there. “No doubt,” he murmured, his voice thickening as he watched her tongue moisten her lips.

“Don’t.” She said quietly as he pulled her closer, his fingers playing with swirls of her ear, their absent motion causing her to close her eyes.

“I need to,” he replied huskily. He lowered his head slowly, rolling Ororo onto her back as he did so that he lay propped above her.

Ororo moaned, unable to help herself, relishing the taste of him on her tongue as he plundered her mouth. It was a kiss that demolished any defenses that she thought she had against him. Heated and deep, filled with passion and tenderness, it lasted a small eternity, and by the time it was over she could feel a telltale dampness between her legs and the firm hardness of Logan’s erection against her thigh.

Ororo pressed the flat of her hands against his hair covered chest, leveling him a searching look. “Logan--what happened with you and Jean?”

He gave a short puff of air, sitting back on his haunches, regarding her sprawled form. “Nothin’.” He stated flatly, running his palm over her flat stomach. Her skin was soft, like silk and warm.

She placed her hand over his, halting his exploration. “Not nothing,” she said sharply. “You kissed her.”

Logan growled slightly, a low rumble of sound, showing his displeasure. “First off, ‘Ro, I didn’t kiss her. I haven’t kissed anyone but you in months. She kissed me.”

“Oh, there’s a difference I suppose?” Ororo raised a brow, her tone scathing.

“Yeah, there’s a goddamn difference.” He snapped. “You kissed Cyclops.” His face contorted briefly, then he shook his head, as if ridding himself of an unwanted image.

Ororo flinched. “You kissed Jean first.”

“Woman,” he snarled. “Listen when I speak. I did not kiss Jean, she kissed me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Logan ran his free hand over his face, letting out a long sigh. “Because, ‘Roro, there was nothin’ to tell. She kissed me, I told her I wasn’t interested and we left it at that.”

One snowy brow rose. “You told Jean that you weren’t interested?”

He gave her a look that begged the question are ya stupid? “Ain’t that what I just said.”

Ororo fidgeted, drawing Logan’s gaze to her bare breasts. “But it was Jean.”

He snorted, his eye line still directed on the steady rise and fall of her chest. “Yeah. And?”

“Logan, I know how much you loved her.”

His eyes snapped up to hers. “When the fuck did I ever say I loved Jean?”

Ororo blinked. “Well, I assumed--”

“Do us both a favor, ‘Ro, and stop assuming.” He gripped her outer thighs in his hands, rising up on his knees, tugging her towards him.

“Logan, wait.” Ororo gasped as he parted her legs, bringing them on either side of his hips.

He gave her a frustrated look, clearly wanting to be moving on to other forms of discussion.

“Why are you here?”

“What the hell kinda question is that?”

“A pretty simple one.” She said, ignoring the way she ached being so close to him, separated only by lace and cotton. “I don’t want you here if it’s just for…for this.” She lifted her hips slightly to emphasize her statement.

Logan bit back a groan and the urge to tear away the thin lacy barrier she wore like a shield at the moment. His fingers flexed on the muscles of her thighs, then slowly he moved away from her.

Ororo felt her chest seize. He was leaving. She took away the sex and he was leaving--“What are you doing?” She asked as he slid beside her, draping his thick arm over her middle, hugging her to him.

“Holdin’ you.” It was such a uncomplicated statement, yet one that sent her mind and heart into a wild turnabout.

“Holding me?”

“Yeah.” He levered himself up on one elbow, one ebony brow raised. “Did you take a knock ta the head tonight?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He chuckled. “That was rhetorical, darlin’.”

“Oh.” She blushed.

“’Ro?”

“Mm?” She slanted her face towards his.

“We ok?” He looked so grave and yet so vulnerable.

She rolled, facing him fully. “You really don’t want Jean?”

He touched her forehead, sliding silky strands from her eyes. “I really don’t want Jean. Or anyone else. Just you.”

Ororo couldn’t help but smile. “Only me?”

Logan grunted, his mouth curving. “Only you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “Fer what?”

“Kissing Scott.”

Logan growled. “Ya don’t know what that did ta me. Seein’ him touch you.”

Ororo slid her hands along his chest to curl around his neck, snuggling closer.

Logan buried his fingers in her hair, fisting her long tresses. “I wanna be inside ya,” he whispered huskily, his eyes on hers.

“I want you too,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the base of his throat.

Logan groaned, rolling onto his back, pulling her atop him.

Ororo’s eyes danced as she watched his face, her mouth moving along his chest slowly, her tongue finding a flat nipple unerringly, flicking out to taste.

“’Ro.” His hands flexed in her hair, drawing her closer still.

Swinging one leg over his two, Ororo straddled him, her mouth still busy on his warm, salty skin. Tentatively Ororo undulated her hips, teasing his erection through his underwear obstruction. Logan’s growl was music to her ears.

“God, baby.” The tendons on his neck stood out in stark relief as she moved again, rotating her hips in a slow, rhythmic circle. Leisurely she traced her fingers through his thick chest hair, moving along his body, causing the muscles of his abdomen to flex and jump until she came to the spot where her body rested against his. Watching his shadowed face, Ororo moved her hands along her thighs, touching herself through the lace before sliding up her rib cage to cup her own breasts.

Logan shuddered beneath her.

“You like that?” she asked saucily.

“Fuck yeah.” He reached for her hand, bringing it back down to her lace panties. “There.”

Ororo smiled wantonly, surprising herself with her audacity. With deliberate relish she teased the elastic along the lace with her fingernails before sliding her hand between skin and lace. It was a unique experience, feeling her slick folds, hot and ready beneath her fingertips and Logan watching her with his hooded, dark eyes.

Hard. Fuck he was so hard. Logan growled, focused on the dark hand moving beneath white lace. Ororo moaned aloud, the sound inexplicably erotic, driving him to the point of madness and the very brink of his control.

Unable to keep himself in check any longer, Logan gripped Ororo’s rolling hips in his hands, flipping her beneath him and tearing her panties away in one fluid motion. “Need you,” he panted, yanking his own underwear off.

“Yes.” Ororo arched her back, a broken cry flying free into the night as Logan plunged home, deep and sure. “Logan, yes!”

“Goddamn, darlin’.” He ground his hips into hers.

She cried out, her body holding his within herself, so tight he groaned aloud. He drove deep, a long slow stroke that had him buried to the hilt. Her hand went to his hip, her fingers digging into the muscle there as he slid in and out of her.

“I want all of you. Give me all of you,” she panted.

He sank into her, felt a roaring heat rush through him, hammers tripping in his head as his blood pounded, begging him to let go. Just let go. With a snarl he pulled her hips closer, lifting her legs over his shoulders and began to ride her hard. Long, deep strokes that went faster and faster, causing his balls to slap her ass and sweat to break out over his body. He adjusted position, the angle allowing him to penetrate her as deep as possible while maintaining a constant friction against her most sensitive spot.

The walls surrounding his cock clamped with ferocious intensity. Ororo screamed, bucking beneath him, pulling him right over the edge with her. Logan’s mouth opened on a silent roar, his orgasm the most explosive he’d ever experienced, beginning in his toes and rushing through him like a tidal wave of excruciating pleasure. He quaked to the center of his being as he emptied himself into her.

He collapsed over the top of her, careful to lay the full bulk of his weight on her, burying his face in her hair. He closed his eyes, savoring her scent, her taste, the way she held him so tightly. She had drove him beyond control, but more than that, she had drove him beyond the man, beyond the animal, to a place he had never before been. It had been sex and lust and love all mingled together in an explosive combination and he hadn’t wanted it to end. He had wanted forever--he wanted forever still.

“I love you.” It came out of nowhere. He hadn’t intended on saying it. But there it was. Three little words that may just save his soul.

She went still, the breath catching in her lungs with an audible hitch. “Logan?”

Now that he’d said it, it felt right. He raised himself up, his face tight with lingering desire. “I’ve never loved a woman like I love you.”

Ororo cupped the side of his face in her hand, her thumb sliding back and forth across his stubble. “That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He grinned, looking suddenly years younger. He dropped a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. “I’m starving.”

She laughed. “And they say romance is dead.”

He nipped her ear, rumbling a playful growl. “Be silent wench and fetch me some food.” He swatted her backside.

Ororo shrieked in mock outrage. “You dare!”

Logan’s mouth curved wickedly. “Oh, I dare.”

“You know, now that you mention it, I’m kind of hungry too.” She sat up, brushing sweat dampened hair from her shoulder.

“Let’s grab some grub.” He pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her back and kissing her slowly. “Or…”

“Or?”

“Or we could wait awhile longer.” One broad hand cupped a weighty breast. “I think I need to work up a bit more of an appetite.”

Ororo’s breathless laugh tickled his ear. “Again?”

“Oh yeah, again.”

Soft sighs and guttural moans once more filled the bedroom and it was well past dawn before they made their way downstairs to the kitchen.




War Room



“Project Wideawake,” Xavier said gravely, “has been approved.”

A stunned silence filled the room and uneasy looks flickered between the X-Men. “They can’t be serious.” Jean said angrily. “I mean, Project Wideawake’s sole goal was to hunt down, capture, and study mutants. I thought that was squashed when the senate began debating the Registration Act instead.”

Xavier nodded. “So it was. Apparently that is no longer the case.”

“Yeah, apparently,” Ali commented with her trademark eye roll. “Hence the Sentinel smack down last night, huh?”

“Yes.” Charles sounded tired.

“So, what does this mean, exactly?” Kitty asked.

“It means that being a mutant is as it ever was,” Ororo said contemptuously. “An abominable state of being that makes tight wadded, anal retentive government officials squirm in their bed sheets at night and an out and out crime against humanity that must be squashed and done away with.”

Kitty opened and closed her mouth. “Oh.”

“That’s a bit more dramatic than I would have put it,” Charles said with a warning glance at Ororo.

“But pretty damn accurate,” Logan added. He handed Ororo a mug of coffee, taking the seat beside hers.

“Thanks.” She crossed her legs under her long black skirt, tapping one boot edgily against the floor.

“What about the Institute?” Scott asked, frowning. “What does this mean for us?”

“We are still effectively hidden from most government agencies.” Xavier said. “With the exception of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Logan grunted. “And you think they won’t hand this place over on a silver platter?”

“Not for now,” Xavier stated. “Right now, we serve a purpose. We are a unique line of defense against mutant terrorists.”

“Yeah, until they proclaim us as mutant terrorists.” Ali argued. “What’s to stop them from seeing us as dangerous enemies as opposed to useful allies and activists? It isn’t like there’s a frikkin’ distinction between the two.”

“But there is, Alison.” Charles said. “It is the cause for which we fight.”

“Pfft.” Ali folded her arms over her chest. “You think a bunch of nut jobs that wanna round up mutants for study and isolation are going to see coexistence as non-threatening? Please. We’re a disease to them.”

“Great.” Kitty moped, placing her chin in the palm of her hand. “And just when I was getting used to sleeping through the night.”

“So what happens now?” Warren asked stepping forward. His wings were bandaged together to help heal the broken cartilage suffered at the club.

“We go on as though nothing has changed,” Xavier said. “You are the X-Men. It is your job to protect innocents, and maintain the hope of a peaceful coexistence between mutants and normal humans.”

“Forgive me for saying, Professor, but it is really hard to maintain that hope when one sees it as a dying ember,” Kurt murmured sadly.

“A dying ember but needs a fresh breath to ignite again, Kurt,” Xavier said. “I have every confidence that the dream shall endure.”

“Yes, but will we?” Jean’s soft voice asked.

Another silence descended over the room.

Logan stood, pushing his chair back. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough, eh, Chuck?” He cocked his head. “You comin’ in, Fury?”

The War Room door opened allowing Nick entrance. “Logan.” He greeted. To the others he nodded.

“Ya come here to give us a pep talk?”

“Not at all.” Fury stood in the front of the room, his jaw set. “I’ve come to inform you that Xavier’s is now under SHIELD jurisdiction. You work for me now.”

“Professor?” Cyclops gave the wheelchair bound man a questioning look. “What is he saying?”

“He’s sayin’ SHIELD just got themselves some new weapons, ain’t that right, Nicky.” Logan said, his face tight with barely contained ferocity.

“I am saying that in order to prevent this place being crushed under a sentinel boot heel I have taken the proper precautionary measures.”

“Hnh.”

“I don’t expect any of you to like it, but the fact is unless you want to be detained in a government holding cell, this is the only option you’ve got.”

“So a metaphorical cage versus a real one?” Ororo said snidely. “Lovely options.”

Xavier’s voice echoed in all their minds. ~Silence.~ “I believe General Fury when he says that this is the only recourse available to us at this time.”

“And yer just steppin’ up for us outta the goodness of yer heart, eh?” Wolverine smirked. “What’s the real deal? How are the X-Men scratchin’ whatever itch you got, Fury?”

Nick leveled Logan a solitary stare. “Magneto.”

“What about him?” Warren asked. “Don’t you guys have him in a nice padded cell somewhere?”

“We did.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Ali demanded. “You lost Magneto?”

“When?” Jean asked, gripping Scott‘s hand.

“A few days ago.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t suppose SHIELD’s screw up is the reason behind Project Wideawake.” Logan was sardonic.

Fury placed his palms on the table, leaning forward. “Project Wideawake is the direct result of mutants becoming overly hostile and making threats upon the US government, among other things.”

“Overly hostile?” Ororo echoed. “How would you react, General, if you were persecuted and attacked simply for who you were. Your life threatened daily and never ending amounts of hate flung at you constantly. Wouldn’t that make you a wee bit hostile, or are you going to look me in the eye and proclaim sunshine and rainbows would still be shooting out of your ass?”

Ali snorted. “Nice.”

“Look, Miss Munroe--”

“No, you look.” Ororo stood. “Last night people nearly died. Mutants, assuredly, but people. I don’t think you see that. For some reason mutant and person are not synonymous for you people. You can’t just march in here and proclaim the X-Men as government weapons to be used at your discretion. We’re people not property.” Thunder boomed outside and the lights flickered overhead.

Logan placed a hand on her arm. “Easy, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Munroe, but ordinary people can’t do what you just did. Like it or not, your powers make you a dangerous threat, and it is my job to deal with threats by any means necessary.” His hand rested on the gun holstered at his hip.

“You haven’t seen dangerous,” Logan growled. “But threaten her again, and you will.”

Cyclops and Jean stood, ready to defend as well. Followed by Ali and Kurt.

“Will my X-men please settle down.” Xavier said, trying to diffuse the situation.

“But ain’t that the rub, Chuck. We ain’t yer X-men anymore.”

“Wolverine, please just--” The shrill sound of the main alarm sounded and the War Room screens flickered to life, displaying a world map and a blinking red dot in the middle of the Pacific ocean.

“What the hell is that?” Fury demanded.

“That would be your mistake,” Logan muttered.

“Magneto,” Charles stated. “It appears he is somewhere near the island of Genosha.”

“Shit.” Fury swore.

“What’s on Genosha, Nicky?” Logan asked, watching the other man’s guarded expression.

“Classified.”

“Hnh.”

“Get your gear and come with me,” Fury ordered pointing to Logan, Ororo, Scott, Jean, Kurt and Ali.

No one moved.

“That’s an order!”

Again not a muscle twitched.

Xavier sighed. “You will do as he says.”

Slowly Scott stepped away from the table. “Let’s move, team.”

Jean and Kurt trailed him.

Ororo turned to Fury. “I am going because I choose to go. Not because you ordered me to.”

“She’s a brassy one,” Fury muttered.

“You got no idea.” Logan said moving to follow Ororo out.

“Wolverine!”

Logan paused in the doorway.

“I need a word with you when we get back.”

With a grunt Logan left the room, jogging to catch up with Ororo, who was stomping her way onto the elevator. He caught her about the waist and swung her in a circle.

“Logan!”

“I like it when ya get all sassy.”

“How do you do it?” she asked when he put her down.

“What?”

“Let them treat you like a weapon. Like a thing.”

He shrugged. “It never really mattered. I used them, they used me. I need answers, some of them Fury has. Others, he knows who does.”

“So he uses pieces of your past like bargaining chips?”

“Pretty much.”

Thunder groaned.

“’Ro?”

“That past is rightfully yours! How can he keep it from you like some sort of--of doggy treat for a mission accomplished? It’s disgusting!”

Logan had never seen her so worked up before, her blue eyes completely white and glowing, snippets of electricity crackling from her hair. She looked royally pissed, and incredibly attractive.

Without warning his hand shot out, slamming the emergency stop button.

“Logan?”

He growled, lifting her skirt to bunch at her waist. He knelt in front of her, his mouth moving along her thighs and teasing her center through her panties.

“I don’t know why you bother with these,” he grumbled, sliding them down to her ankles. He stood, unsnapping his pants and dropping them to his knees, turning her against the wall. He moved behind her, sniffing her neck and slamming into her in one hard thrust.

“Ah.” Ororo moaned, arching her back. “The others…”

“Can wait,” he panted. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Ororo lifted her eyes, catching their reflection in the mirrored back wall of the elevator and she was held entranced by the picture they presented. Logan followed her eyes, also captivated by their reflection.

Her with her full mouth slightly parted in frantic pants and long hair falling about her face with each forceful thrust from Logan.

Him with his lips curled in an expression of ecstasy, his dark head bent close to her snowy one.

“God, yer so fucking perfect,” he groaned, pulling her hips back and bunching her skirt at his wrists, pounding into her.

“Harder,” she demanded.

Logan growled, fisting her hair, pulling her back, his orgasm approaching quickly as his tattoo increased, harder and harder. “’Ro. Fuck, fuck!”

Ororo spread her legs wider, moving his hand between her thighs.

“So wet.” Logan closed his eyes, trying to stave his approaching climax. “So hot.”

“For you,” she rasped. “Only for you.”

“Come for me.” He rubbed his thumb aggressively around her clit in alternate time to the thrusts from his cock.

Tightness coiled in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. “Logan!!” Ororo’s scream was deafening as she shattered, rocking against his hand, soaking him. She sobbed, her knees giving way. “Siet ala amiweih. Soku! Soku!”

Logan tightened his arm around her waist, holding her upright, allowing his orgasm to finally wash over him. He jerked her head to one side, his mouth clamping over the junction between neck and shoulder to stifle his own roar of release.

Unwelcome, reality came back into focus. Realizing that the others were probably wondering where the hell they were Logan stood, adjusting his clothing, then helping her with hers.

Both satisfied and relatively calm he set the elevator in motion once more.
Logan pulled Ororo tight against him, kissing her slowly. “What was it screamed at the end there?”

Ororo blinked languidly, still pleasantly sedated from their lovemaking. “Hm?”
“Uh, Soku, something or other.”

Ororo frowned. “I have no idea.”

Logan raised a brow. “Really?”

“Really.” She nodded. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Well, hell, darlin’, it ain’t everyday a man makes a woman speak in tongues. Were ya touched by the holy spirit?”

She swatted his arm, amused and annoyed at once. “I was touched by something.”

His grin was devilish. “That ya were.”

The elevator doors slid open revealing the gangplank to the Blackbird.

“What took you?” Scott demanded from the hatch.

“Can it, One-Eye. We’re here ain’t we.” Logan smirked at Ororo. “That’s a mighty fine flush you got going on.”

Ororo glowered at him. “Oh, do shut up.”

His genuine laughter surprised everyone on the plane. “What are ya waiting for, Cyke. Let’s motor.” He said as he passed, moving to the back of the Blackbird where the uniforms were stored.

Ali tossed Ororo her uniform as she stepped onto the plane. “A little love in the elevator?”

Ororo mumbled a few choice words, slamming the bathroom door shut. Removing her clothes Ororo splashed cold water on her face, tying her hair back in a long ponytail. She gasped, seeing Logan’s bite mark on her shoulder, a warm flutter in her stomach at the sight. She touched her skin reverently, her eyes misting. Soku…

The sound of hot water hissed from the silver showerhead, its constant sound lulling and soothing Ororo. Bending her head forwards she placed the palm of her hand against the smooth beige tile of the locker-room shower, welcoming the hot cascade of water over her aching muscles. Clouds of steam rose from the scalding stream washing over her, misty tendrils wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth.

Sighing softly, she turned and tilted her head back, running her hands over her face, slicking her hair away from her forehead, her thoughts once again straying to the recent mission. A complete and utter waste of time, in her mind. Aside from the treat of the island itself, a beautiful tropical paradise, the mission had been one big wild goose chase.

They should have realized that catching Magneto wouldn’t be as simple as all that. He had been long gone by the time the team had arrived, the only sign of his passing was a large Sentinel factory left in a smoldering ruin, completely destroyed. A fact that Ororo had trouble finding cause to be upset about. There were times that she felt perhaps Magneto had the right idea.

She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? Magneto? That wasn’t who she was. Was it? She frowned, thinking of how she had felt that night at the club, the desire to kill so strong she could taste it, the urge to unleash completely and show no mercy nearly overwhelming…

Ororo was jarred from her thoughts when the warm spray raining from the showerhead abruptly turned frigid, a layer of frost and ice covering the walls and floor, causing the locker room to shift from balmy to bitterly cold in a fraction of a second.

Gasping against the shock of freezing water on her steamy skin, Ororo jerked the knobs of the shower sharply, their squeaks echoing in the empty locker room. Yanking a towel from the silver bar outside the curtain she wrapped it around her body hastily, shivering against the cool cotton. She yanked the curtain aside, stepping from the stall. “Robert Drake, so help me, if that is you--”

A voice caressed her ear, so faint and convoluted she barely heard it. Cocking her head to one side, she stood listening, water dripping from her sodden tresses. The water droplets splashing onto the floor like drum beats, the sound amplified abnormally. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Only silence.

“Bobby? If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing. I--” The rest of that sentence went unfinished, her feet slipping from underneath her, sending her sprawling to the floor, jarring her elbow and cracking her head against the tile. “Ow!”

She rolled to her side, rubbing one hand along the back of her head, wincing at the lump already forming. “Smooth, Storm. Real smooth.” She pushed herself up onto one arm, her breath catching in her throat when the tile beneath he hand cracked, jagged splinters racing along the now frosted white floor. The entire surface beneath her was cracking like a sheet of ice, tiles shattering around her hand, their snaps sounding loudly in her ears. The locker room blurring, snow swirling through the enclosed room and before she could completely comprehend what was happening, Ororo found herself in the center of a full scale snowstorm.

She looked around frantically, her mind in chaos. She couldn’t rein it in; she was alarmed by the fact that she had no control over what was happening.

“Who’s there?” she demanded. Wind howled. Towels and shower curtains were torn from their holdings.

Shaking uncontrollably, the water beads from the shower freezing to her skin and her soaked hair turning into a tendrils of ice, Ororo pulled her knees to her chest, her teeth chattering non stop, an event that had never before happened to her. This made no sense, she thought, hugging her legs. The weather did not affect her. She did not get hot or cold as others did. So why then was she cold? Why were her teeth snapping together? Why were her fingertips turning purple? What was happening?

“This isn’t f-f-funny.” She blinked snow encrusted eyes. Her limbs began to lose feeling.

Locker doors clattered open, slamming into each other in the swirling gusts. The faint voice in her head grew until it sounded like thousands upon thousand of voices screaming and crying and raging at her.

Clutching her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut, covering her ears Ororo screamed. “Stop!”

Silence.

Ororo waited, the only sound in the room her harsh breathing.

“Yoo-hoo, Storm? You in here?” Ali‘s voice filtered through the haze. “Ororo?”

Ororo sagged in relief. “In h-here.”

Alison rounded the corner. “What the hell is up Wolverine’s ass? I just asked him about Fury and he--uh, Storm?” Ali moved forward hurriedly, concern on her face. Storm sat huddled in the shower stall, her lips trembling. “Storm, you okay?”


Ororo clutched her sodden towel tighter. “I, uhm, honestly don’t know.”
“What the hell happened?” Ali asked, noticing for the first time the opened lockers and scattered towels.

“I was thinking about Magneto, and I got upset. I fell, I think.” Ororo supplied, rubbing her head.

“Uh-huh. You think?”

“I know that sounds flaky,” Ororo shook her head, “but it’s all kind of fuzzy. Like a dream.”

“You dozed off?”

Ororo looked around. “Maybe.”

“Y’know, babe, I think so’s and maybes will only work for so long with me.” She reached down to help Storm to her feet. “Holy hell, Storm, you’re a friggin’ Popsicle,” Ali gasped, rubbing her hands up and down Storm’s arms.

“The water turned cold.”

Ali glanced up at the still steaming showerhead, her expression dubious. “Uh-huh.”

Ororo followed Ali’s gaze, a frown on her face. “Weird.”

Ali nodded, seating Ororo on one on the benches, sitting beside her. “Look, I ain’t the type to get all motherly. You’re a big girl, and a smart one at that. I figure you know how to take care of yourself, but is there anything you wanna talk about? Like why you’re not sleeping at night and falling asleep in the shower? I mean aside from reasons such as Wolverine and his kung-pow cock.”

Ororo snorted back a laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, Ali.” Ororo leaned her head onto her friend’s shoulder. “But I’ve already talked to the Professor, and he’s certain there’s nothing to worry about.”

Alison kissed the top of Storm’s head before nudging her aside. “Ok, enough ‘after school special‘ for us.” Ali stood. “You need to get dressed. You have a mission. “

Ororo raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yup. There’s a very feral looking Canadian roaming the property and he’s scaring the younguns.”

“He’s upset?”

Ali lifted her shoulders. “Who can tell?”

Ororo smirked. “Well, obviously you think he is, or else you wouldn’t have come to get me.”

“I don’t think he’s liking having the government smack dab in the middle of his life again, but that’s just my take on it.”

“He was really withdrawn,” Ororo commented, realizing for the first time that Logan hadn’t said more than two full sentences since Genosha.

Ali gave an indifferent shrug.

Ororo stood, dropping her soaked towel, reaching for one of the scattered ones on the floor.

“Hey babe, y’know you got another tattoo?” Ali commented, tousling her dark hair in one of the mirrors.

Ororo cast her a bewildered look over one shoulder. “What?”

Ali turned, nodding. “On your lower back.”

Ororo made her way to the full length mirror, turning and trying to see what Alison was referring to. Sure enough, at the base of her spine, just above the curve of her backside, two symbols were etched into her skin. Semi circular and linked together, they were similar to the other markings that had appeared and faded.

“Ororo?”

“Huh?” One coffee hand moved over the slightly raised markings.

Ali worried her lower lip. “Maybe you should talk to the professor again.”

Ororo turned slowly. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Al.”

Ali sighed, not pushing, but just as sure that it was something.


***


The evening air was cool and crisp as Ororo made her way across the back lawn of the Xavier Institute, towards the longer grass, and the man seated on an incline, half hidden in the darkness. As she approached she took the time to study his shadowed profile, the rugged contours of his face, and the way his forearm muscles flexed as he extended and retracted his claws. Even though she knew he could sense her approach, she greeted him quietly. “Hey.”

He tipped his familiar, worn cowboy hat in greeting, but his gaze never met hers.
Ororo stopped a few feet away from him, her arms crossed over her chest, an automatically reserved pose. “Want to talk?”

He gazed out at the lawn indifferently. “What’s there ta talk about?”

“About what’s happening with SHIELD, Fury, you…anything.”

“Ain’t nothing ta talk about.”

Ororo frowned. “It doesn’t bother you? Having them parade in here like they own the place?”

He gave her a hard stare. “It‘s the natural order.”

That caught her by surprise. “Hunh?”

With a semi growl, Logan cocked his head and reiterated the statement. “The strong dominate the weak. Nick’s doing his level best to keep this place from being swallowed whole by people that’d love nothin’ more than our collective heads on a platter. Chuck forgot for a moment that he wasn’t invincible, or untouchable, and now all of you are paying the price fer that.”

Ororo’s eyes narrowed. “All of us?” she repeated incredulously. “There you go again, setting yourself apart from the team. The perpetual loner. Never needs anyone for anything, right?”

Logan stiffened, and then abruptly turned away from her, grumbling.

Ororo uncrossed her arms, her hands moving to her hips. “Let me make this real simple for you, you are a part of this team. A part of this extended screwed up family that Xavier’s got going on here. You are wanted. You are valued. For more than your ability to slice and dice, mind you. They,” she gestured in the direction of the school. “Need you. I--mmmph.” The rest of her rant was cut off as Logan lunged to his feet, pulling her against him and devouring her mouth is swift and fierce possession.

Logan’s arms tightened reflexively around Ororo’s waist, keeping her upright when her knees would have buckled. “You don’t know what ya do to me,” he mouthed against her lips, his tongue flicking hers. “You make me crazy. I don’t wanna need ya like I do.” His breath warmed her as he talked a moist trail across her cheek to her ear.

She exhaled a shaky breath when his sharp canine bit her tender lobe. She trembled, turning her head to give him better access to continue the wicked things he did to her. “I need you too, Logan”

He seemed to loosen at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit beneath her fingers. “Say yer mine,” he commanded gruffly, his teeth skimming along the line of the throat.

She gave him a veiled look from under dark lashes. “You know I am.”

Logan took a step back, cradling her face, his eyes dark and once again unreadable. “I love ya, darlin‘,” he said. As he said the last, his mouth took hers, his lips moving over her, brushing softly, sharing breath. “Mine.”

Ororo blinked against the unexpected tears in her eyes. “Yours,” she affirmed with a nod.

Logan inhaled against her damp hair, closing his eyes.

Ororo smiled against his neck. “I want you,” she whispered huskily.

“You don’t gotta ask twice, darlin’.” He reached for her hand, to lead her towards the Institute, but she shook her head, running her fingers through her thick mass of snowy locks, letting it all free in a winter cascade.

“Right here.” She reached for him, grabbing his belt loop and drawing him closer, before tugging his shirt from his pants. “Now.” Her nimble fingers worked the buttons.

“Fuck, yes.” Logan shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the ground, moonlight touching tense muscles.

Ororo laughed at his eager expression.

His thumb skimmed her bottom lip. “Yer full of surprises, ain‘t ya?”

Ororo grinned at him, reaching for his cowboy hat and placing it atop her head. “You have no idea.”

Logan’s eyes darkened further, his breath rasping hungrily. He took a step back, admiring. “Wear the hat fer me.”

Ororo nodded and began to unlace the ribbons of her white top. Logan halted her hands, placing his over hers, shaking his head slowly back and forth. Ororo lowered her arms to her sides, mesmerized by the dark tan fingers gently untying the knots of her lacy top. Her breath hitched as he parted the silky material and his thumbs caressed her wind chilled nipples.

“You’ve got the most gorgeous tits,” he murmured, lowering his head to take one peak into the hot, dampness of his mouth.

Ororo gasped at the warm sensation, her fingers threading through his thick, unruly hair. Logan was no poetic wooer, but he got his point across just the same, and her heart still kicked. “Logan,” she sighed, his name an ache from her very soul. She tilted her head back, savoring the feel of him in her arms.

Logan’s arms tightened around Ororo’s stomach, pulling her closer as he laved her breasts in lingering kisses. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the once clear sky began to darken with thick, swirling clouds, the stars winking a farewell to the heated lovers.

He moved his mouth down her chest, along the flat line of her stomach, flicking her belly button with his tongue. At the waistband of her black skirt he looked up at her. “I wanna taste ya.”

Wrapped in a sensual spell, Ororo nodded slowly, her blue eyes clouded over with passion.

Strong hands skimmed smooth thighs as Logan gently pushed her knee length skirt to her waist, the soft material bunching at his wrists, bringing them both back to that heated moment in the elevator earlier when passion had flared, undeniable and hot between them.

With tender reverence he nuzzled her black lace panties, inhaling her arousal, the scent making his cock twitch in his pants. Slowly he pulled one of her long legs over is shoulder, her bare foot resting against the base of his back. “I gotchya, darlin’. Just relax,” he instructed, moving the panties aside and nibbling on the tender exposed flesh.

Ororo’s fingers bunched reflexively in his hair. He swirled his tongue against her over-sensitized skin, again and again. “Logan. Oh, Logan!”

“Let go, baby. Let go.”

“I can’t…Oh, oh, Logan….!!” Ororo’s hips rocked forward.

“Good. Just like that, ‘Ro. Let go.” Logan flicked his tongue faster, sensing her approaching orgasm. He grinned at the slight pain her fingers caused as she yanked on his hair. Deliberately he increased the pressure of his tongue, lingering over the tight nub of skin that was the epicenter of her pleasure.


Ororo opened her mouth on a silent scream, her body trembling as she convulsed in the throes of completion.

Watching her with hooded, hungry eyes, Logan felt his chest tighten. “My God, yer beautiful.”

Ororo’s eyes fluttered and a sensual smile played along her full mouth. She gave him a smoldering look, sliding the heel of her foot along his spine. “Your turn.”

“’Ro. You don’t--Jesus!” Logan couldn’t prevent his body’s involuntary jerk as Ororo’s eyes flashed, electricity dancing along the seams of his clothes. Within a fraction of a second Ororo had disintegrated their remaining clothing. “How--?”

“Easy. It’s making the clothes that requires concentration.” She ran her hands along his thighs, enjoying the hardness of the muscles bulging beneath skin.

Logan inhaled between clenched teeth. “You can make clothes? Outta lightening?”

“Sort of. More of electirical molecular manipulation. Henry worked with me on it.” She gave him an amused glance. “Do you really want to talk science, Logan?” She leaned forwards, poking her tongue into the head of his erect cock. “Or shall we continue?”

His breath and answer were stolen the moment her mouth covered the tip of his erection. Ororo moved on him almost reverently, licking and kissing his length. She cradled him in her hand, massaging and stroking.

“Christ!” Reluctantly he cupped her chin, lifting her face. “Ya gotta stop, darlin’.”

With a devilish gleam Ororo disregarded his urging and returned her mouth to his silk over steel cock.

“Ororo,” Logan groaned, closing his eyes, his fingers flexing in the grass, ripping it out in handfuls.

“Let go, Logan.” Her husky murmur against his shaft was his undoing.

With a growl he buried his fingers in her hair, losing himself in her mouth and the sweet oblivion of release, his muscles corded to the point of pain.

He gasped, his heart thundering in his chest. “Jesus.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “”Ro…no one--”

“Shh.” She stood, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I wanted to. I--Augh!”
Ororo jerked as a flash of pain lanced through her abdomen.

“Ororo?”

Ororo sagged against Logan. “I’m fine.”

Logan held her, his gray eyes searching her face. “What’s going on?”

What could she say? That for a moment it sounded like there were a thousand voices screaming simultaneously inside her mind? “Really, Logan, I’m fine.” She said, straightening to her full height. “Just some stomach cramps.”

Logan’s thick arm tightened further. “Like hell,” he grumbled, but didn’t push. His warm breath stirred against her ear and she was comforted by the press of moist lips against her skin. Logan leaned back, still keeping one arm possessively draped around her waist. “You can talk ta me.”

Ororo pressed her face into the warm comfort of his neck. “I know.”

“’Ro…”

“Honestly, I think I’m just a little tired.”

Logan curled his fist into her hair, brushing his mouth over hers in a slow dance. “Well, then let’s get you to bed.”

Ororo chuckled. “It’s only eight thirty, Logan.”

Another slow, tantalizing kiss. “I didn’t say we’d sleep.”

“Oh.”


Two hours later


Logan growled under his breath, quiet knocking waking him. He glanced over at Ororo who lay in peaceful slumber, her mouth parted slightly, her already plump lips still swollen from his gentle and not too gentle bites.

Swearing a colorful litany of foul words Logan tugged on his jeans, padding to the door. He paused, sniffing. Fury. He opened the door a crack, just enough to peer into the dim hallway. “What ?”

“I told you before you left I needed a word.” The General commented.

Logan glanced behind him.

“It concerns her.” Nick said.

Logan’s head snapped around. “You leave her out of anything you got fer me. You hear?”

“It can’t be helped. She’s already involved.”

“Spill it.” Logan growled stepping into the hall and closing the door.

“Is there another place--”

“Just spill it, Nicky. It ain’t like ya to be so namby pamby about anything.”

Nick leveled him a steady look. “We ran tests on the samples we took from you.”

“Yeah,” Logan grunted. What else was new. They were always running tests on samples from him.

“This may be rather hard for you to accept, but know that it’s the truth. I had the tests run three times to confirm.”

“Jesus, just fuckin’ tell me.” Logan said irritated.

“Victor Creed was your son.”

If the earth had split open and a magical fey leprechaun had sprung out and handed Logan a pot of gold he would have been less stunned by that than he was by the staggering blow Fury had just dealt him.

He swallowed harshly. “What?”

“Sabertooth, Victor Creed, was your biological son.”

Logan leaned heavily against the cool wood of his bedroom door. “Bullshit.” He said finally.

“I said it would be hard for you to accept.” Nick stated.

“And I said bullshit.” Logan growled. “No fuckin’ way.”

“I thought you should know. SHIELD isn’t releasing his body for burial--”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Logan snarled. “That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a burial.” His head was pounding. No. No it couldn’t be true. His son. His son had raped Ororo.

“I thought you might want to know, given the circumstances.” Fury’s eye flicked towards the door. “Better from me than someone springing that on you in the future.”

Logan nodded, otherwise unresponsive. “That it?”

“Yes. For what it’s worth Logan, I’m sorry that this has happened.”

Logan ran his hand across his mouth. “Who was…who was the mother?”

“An as yet unidentified female. As far as I’m aware Creed was bred in a lab, created from extracted DNA.”

“Hnh.”

Fury watched the dark eyed feral warily, wondering how much a man could take before he snapped. To have your life torn from you, over and over, then to find out you had a child, a child that you murdered. He shook his head. “Good night, Wolverine.”

Logan stayed in the hall for several minutes, running over everything that Fury had told him. With a heavy sigh he opened the bedroom door.

“There you are.” Ororo yawned, smiling a sleepy smile at him. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

Logan’s gut clenched. She was looking at him with such open adoration, her blue eyes dancing in the faint light. He couldn’t breathe.

“Logan?” Ororo stood, mindless of her state of undress. “What is it?”

“’Ro…” He shook his head. My son is the man that violated you, and I am such I monster I feel no remorse in ending that fuckers life…

“What’s wrong?” She stood in front of him , her hands resting on his shoulders.

Unable to vocalize anything beyond a deep growl Logan pulled her into his arms, holding her almost unbearably tight, his face in her hair. “I love ya, baby.” he ground out.

“I love you too,” she smiled. “Come back to bed.”

“I will in a bit. I need some air.” He kissed her forehead.

She watched him curiously. “All right. Should I wait up?”
“No, get some rest, darlin‘.”

Something was wrong, she could feel it. “Wake me when you come back, okay?”

He caressed her cheek. “I will.”

She grabbed his hand. “I do love you, Logan.”

He swallowed. “I know ya do.”

Ororo bolted upright in bed, one hand lashing out wildly to fend off an invisible attacker. “No!” Her broken cry startled her into full wakefulness a fraction of a second before she hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud. “Shit.” She lay on the flat of her back, covering her forehead with the crook of her arm, her breathing labored, her lungs feeling unnaturally tight. She lay in the haphazard shadows of the room for a few minutes waiting for the cloudy, fading remnants of her dream to whisper farewell.

With a grunt she rolled onto her side, leveling herself up so that her arm rested on the rumpled sheets. She blinked, glancing at the bedside clock’s glowing green digits: 3:15 am. She frowned. Logan should have returned by now.

Ororo rose from the floor and grabbed her folded clothes from the top of Logan’s bureau. She moved about the dim room, hopping up an down on alternate legs, tugging her pants on.

Once slipped into her faded jeans and hooded ‘Xavier’ sweatshirt Ororo pushed open the bedroom window. She scooted off the sill, floating quietly to the ground below. Pulling her hood over her hair, she walked barefoot across the yard, unmindful of the alternating patches of snow still covering the grounds.

She stretched, effectively removing the remaining kinks from her restless body. She sighed heavily, wondering what had Logan so upset. He was very good at hiding his inner turmoil, and if she was anyone else, she would have taken this mood as just one of many swings he was known for. But she wasn’t anyone else. She was the woman that loved him.

She paused in her trek, then glanced over at the garage. Following her instincts she turned and made her way to the adjacent building. Leaning against the side wall Ororo tilted her head heavenward, watching the stars blink down at her. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they were watching her, knowing something she didn’t.

Shaking her head at her own wandering thoughts she placed her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. Beneath the blind face of the moon Ororo waited.
He was coming. She could feel it.

Sure enough, not a full minute passed before the quaking rumble of a well kept Harley Davidson engine broke the silence of the night.

Logan’s heart thudded in his chest as a solitary slender outline came into view, brought into full relief by the glow of his headlight. He pulled his bike up to the garage slowly, switching off the ignition. He didn’t dismount though, instead he sat in shadow and stared at the flaxen haired angel that had entered his life and changed his entire world. She was everything any man could ever want, and she loved him. He was undeserving of that, especially considering what his life had wrought upon her.

Ororo regarded him in equal silence, her blue eyes heavy with concern.

“I was thinking about leaving.” He said gruffly, unexpectedly.

She blinked rapidly, caught off guard. “What?”

He nodded, his gray eyes intent. “There are a couple of SHIELD operations that could use an experienced man--”

“No.” It was flat denial.

He shifted his weight, leaning the bike. “’Ro-”

“Whatever it is you think you’re protecting me from by running, you aren’t. You’ll only hurt me more by leaving me.”

“You don’t know that. There are things about me, Storm…dangerous things….”

“I’m not afraid of anything about you, Logan.” She continued.

He looked away from her earnest expression. “Maybe you should be.” His voice was a rough growl, laced with bitterness.

“Stop it.” She moved so that she was beside him. “I won’t let you try and scare me off.”

“I’m dangerous. It‘s dangerous for you to be with me. I‘ll only bring shit and misery into your life.”

“Are you listening to yourself? Look at me. Look at our lives. We trudge through shit and misery on the regular, Logan. But when we’re together we’re happy, right? That’s more than a lot of people get. So what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He kept his gaze straight ahead, leaving her to stare at his shadowed, whiskered profile.

“Whatever it is, Logan, I don’t care.”

He leveled her a hard stare. “You may not care, but I do.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, this is never gonna work.”

Ororo swallowed the rapidly swelling lump in her throat and posed the question, “What’s never going to work?”

He shifted on the bike. “You and me.”

“Logan, don’t--”

The ache in her voice tore at his heart. “All I’ll bring to you is grief, Storm. It‘s better this way. Trust me.”

She shook her head. “I do trust you, but not in this. Whatever has you spooked, we can face together.”

“I’m sorry.” He dismounted, placing the bike between them.

Ororo couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Logan wanted to end things? Hadn’t that been his bed she’d rolled out of? Wasn’t that him groaning her name in her ear earlier in the evening? Was she in some sort of screwed up limbo reality?

“I never took you for a coward,” she whispered harshly.

Logan’s head snapped up. “You don’t understand.”

She held out her hands. “Then make me understand, Logan, because you’re right, I don’t. You said you loved me. Was that a lie?”

He grit his teeth together. “This is just the way it has to be.”

“Why?” She demanded, hating the catch in her voice.

“Because it is.” His hands clenched into fists. “It just is.”

“I’m not letting you do this.” Thunder rolled across the sky, heralding a frothing mass of clouds. Lightning flashed, a bright white streak reflected in baby blues. “I love you.”

“You wouldn’t if you knew.”

“Knew what?” She wanted to scream in frustration. “Talk to me. Please. Whatever it is, let me decide.”

Logan growled. “I can’t, ‘Roro.”

“Why not?” she demanded. The first fat drops of rain splashed on the Harley’s leather seat.

“I couldn’t take you hating me.” His voice was so soft she almost missed it.

“Hating you?” His unexpected vulnerability tugged at her heart. “Logan, I could never hate you.”

Logan closed his eyes against the soft sincerity of her voice. During his hours riding, all he could see in his mind’s eye was Ororo’s battered, abused form, laying limp against the roots of a tree, tied and bloody, knowing it was his son, a part of him that did that to her. He hated himself. How could she not?

He turned away from her. “I’m sorry.” An abrupt gust of wind lifted Logan off of his feet. “Hey!”

Ororo raised herself a few feet into the air alongside him. “Stop this. You are out of your damn mind if you think I’m just going to shrug and cry a few tears and let you tuck tail on us. No way, Logan! Not now, not ever.” She grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him to her, forcing him to meet her glowing gaze. “What is it that you are so certain will make me hate you? Government agents? Another woman? A long lost wife? Just say it!”

“’Ro…”

“Just say it!”

“Sabertooth was mine!” He snapped.

Ororo blinked, not following. “Your what?”

“My son, my kid! There, I said it.” He growled, waiting for her revulsion. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Oh no.” They hit the ground hard, the winds ceasing altogether. Ororo stepped away from him, shaking her head. “No.”

Logan would have sworn he was immune to most pain, but seeing Ororo back away from him dug at him deep. He wanted to grab her, but he remained stone still.

Ororo covered her mouth with her hand. No wonder he wanted to leave her. Because of her, he had killed his only real family. Lost his only link to his past. How he must hate her!

“What?” Logan cocked his head, certain he misheard her muttering.

Her eyes were wide. “Because of me…” Thunder groaned loudly, a long mournful rumble that echoed over and over.

Ororo felt behind her for the wall, missed and sat heavily on the asphalt. She placed her head in her hands, shaking. “I am so sorry.”

Logan crouched in front of her, his dark brows furrowed and his gray eyes narrowed in concern. “’Ro, what the fuck are you sayin’?”

Ororo looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Large hands cradled her face. “’Ro? Baby, answer me.”

“Because of me, you lost you son.” She ached for him. “Forgive me.”

Logan jostled her slightly. “Ororo, damn it, answer me.”

She frowned, confused. “Logan, can’t you hear me?”

“Christ.” Logan lifted Ororo off the ground, swinging her up into his arms. “Storm, say something.”

“Logan? Why can’t you hear me?” Was he deaf?

“Look at me, Ororo.”

“I am looking at you.”

“Damn it! Professor!” They were moving towards the mansion, with Logan holding her close to his chest.

“Logan, what are you doing? I don’t want to go inside.” She tried to poke him. Weren’t they just talking about something? Something important?

“Hang on, darlin’.”

“What? Hang on? Are you insane? I’m fine. You, on the other hand may need mental help.” She rolled her eyes. A flash of blue out of her peripheral caught her attention. “Oh, Hank, thank the Goddess. Would you please tell Logan that I’m fine.”

The form of Henry McCoy shimmered in shadow, his intelligent gaze grave with concern. He held out one furred hand, as if reaching for her.

“Logan slow down. I can’t reach Henry.” She glanced up at Logan who was staring down at her intently. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Be okay, baby, just be okay.” He kicked open the mansion doors.
“Somebody!”

“What the hell is all the commotion?” Ali’s voice, groggy with sleep held more than a trace of annoyance.

“Ali! Finally, will you please talk some sense into Logan.”

“Get the Professor,” Logan said shortly.

“Storm!” Ali rushed forward. “What happened?”

Instead if answering he demanded. “Just get Xavier, Alison!”

“Kurt’s already on it,” she snapped back. She pressed her hand to Storm’s head. “She’s burning up.”

“Has everyone gone completely mad?” Ororo wanted to scream. “Logan, Ali! Look at me. Listen to me!” She turned her head. “Hank, tell them.” But Hank was gone. Ororo scrunched her face in confusion. What was happening? Why couldn’t anyone hear her? She struggled to sit up in Logan’s arms.

A faint burning sensation began in the pit of her stomach, growing rapidly until she felt like something was alive and trying to claw its way out from her insides. Pain! Indescribable and intense washed over her with the force of a tidal wave. She felt lost, torn apart by the fire raging through her body.

“Christ! She’s seizing!”

Logan’s rough, worried voice sounded convoluted and faraway. She tried to focus on his face but she couldn’t seem to see anymore, the room suddenly black. “Logan…” Shrieking, all she could hear was the horrible shrieking. Talons of pain and fire tore at her, rending her into screaming pieces.

Logan jerked with the force of the spasms rocking Ororo’s body. Fear was an emotion he was unaccustomed to, but he felt it now, and it nearly strangled him. Just as quickly as the paroxysm started, it ceased, leaving Ororo laying limp and still in his arms; her vacant eyes remained open, and her pale lips parted in faint, erratic breathing.

“Wolverine, what is happening?” Professor Xavier rolled from the elevator, flanked by a pajama clad Jean and Cyclops and a concerned Kurt.

Logan barely looked up, his worried gaze locked on Ororo‘s face. “It’s ‘Ro. She’s having some sort of attack.”

“What type of attack?” Scott asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Logan snarled. “I’m not a doctor.”

“Does she have a condition?” Scott asked Jean.

Jean shook her head, moving to kneel beside Logan and Ororo. “Not that I know of.” She placed her fingertips to Ororo’s wrist. “Pulse is thready.”

“Help her,” Logan said to her, his voice gruffer than usual.

Jean nodded, speaking as she felt under Ororo‘s chin, pressing the glands there. “It could be a number of things, Logan. An allergic reaction or a fever. Since this hasn’t happened before I see no need to worry,” Jean tried to reassure him.

Ali gnawed her lower lip, then with a ‘fuck it‘, she blurted, “This isn’t the first time.”

Several pairs of eyes swung towards her. “What?” Logan growled, his lips curled.

“Something similar happened to her in the shower earlier. I found her laying on the ground.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Jean asked incredulously.

Ali squared her jaw, comforted by Kurt‘s warm arm about her waist. “Ororo’s a big girl. She doesn’t need me to play Mommy. Besides Cue ball told her there was nothing to worry about.” Ali sent Xavier a sharp look.

“We can play lay the blame later,” Logan bit out. “Right now, someone had better help her.”

Without warning lightning sizzled in the air. The windows of the main hall shattered with the force of the winds buffeting the mansion walls.

Instinctively Logan hunched over Ororo, trying to shield her from the falling shards of glass. He grit his teeth at the unexpected pain of thousands of volts of electricity lancing his sprawled form.

“Logan!” Jean cried out, thrown back across the marble floor.

Ororo turned her head towards the winded red head. “Aeir d‘eai, aeriate nemieweih! Sliviette!!” The walls shook.

“Storm!” Logan hollered, trying to keep Ororo pinned to the floor.

“N’yuni moto, mvua, mvua. Caedo liefhe.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan ground out through the pain.

“Heads up!” Ali hollered, diving to the side, pulling Kurt with her, as a small uprooted tree smashed through the broken window skittering across the floor.

Xavier placed his hands to his temples, focusing his renowned mental control fully on Ororo. ~Rest, child.~

For another moment the winds howled and lightning flashed as she resisted his urging, but then Ororo blinked heavy lidded eyes, the winds ceasing their screams and the rain fading from downpour to light drizzle.

She rolled her head back towards Logan, her fingertips caressing his jaw. “Soku...” With that she closed her eyes and slept.



Medlab

Logan felt restless. Blunt fingers stroked lily white strands of hair as he waited for Jean or Xavier to give him some news on Ororo‘s condition. He watched her chest rise and fall in deep, even breaths, comforted by the sight. She looked so fragile. He knew she wasn’t, but still, everything male in him rose up to want to protect her, which was ironic, because when she had him riled and worked up, everything in him wanted to dominate her.

There was no two ways about it, Ororo brought out the most extreme emotions in him. She made him angry, she made him frustrated, she made him rock hard with a glance, she made him laugh, point of fact was that she made him feel alive.

He straightened in his chair, his senses telling him that Xavier was on his way…with Fury.

The hydraulic doors hissed apart and the two men entered the room.

“Wolverine.” Nick greeted.

“So, what’s the matter with her?” Logan asked, ignoring the greeting, moving straight to the business at hand, and what mattered to him.

For a moment neither man answered.

Logan’s gaze flicked between the two men. Something wasn’t right. He set his shoulders, all senses on overdrive. “Chuck?”

“There is nothing physically wrong with her,” Xavier finally stated.

“What the hell do you mean? You saw her.” Logan demanded. “Something happened to her.”

Xavier rolled forward, regarding Ororo speculatively. “Yes, indeed.” He then turned towards Logan, saying, “I believe that Ororo has just reached a point where she needs a break. Too much has happened to her recently. She is…taxed.”

“And the marks on her? The seizure?” Logan asked, his hand resting on Ororo’s.

Xavier met Logan’s steady stare and Logan tensed at the uneasiness in the Professor‘s eyes. “I believe this is all self induced and inflicted. General Fury has told me of your recent revelation, and given the nature of yours and Storm’s relationship I assume you informed her.”

Logan remained stoically silent.

“I think that was, for lack of a better term, the straw that broke the camels back.”

Logan flinched. “You think knowing that Sabertooth was my kid snapped her? Drove her crazy.”

Charles shook his head slowly. “Not at all. I think she’s stressed, and emotionally unstable which is understandable considering.”

Several other scents filtered through the doors and Logan stood slowly, realizing soldiers were lining up outside the room in the hall. “What’s going on, Chuck?”

It was Fury that answered. “Stressed or crazy doesn’t matter to me. The girl is dangerous.”

Logan’s eyes darkened warily. “I’m dangerous,” he growled.

Nick nodded somberly. “I know.”

Logan’s upper lip curled away from his teeth, revealing his canine like incisors. He did a quick assessment of the room and his options.

“Don’t, Wolverine.” Xavier said softly. He projected an image of the soldiers lining the hall into Logan’s head. ~For Ororo’s sake, do not attempt anything…at least not yet.~

Without betraying the message in his head, Logan moved closer to Ororo’s bedside. “What are you saying, Nicky?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m saying.” Nick stated flatly. “She needs to be controlled.”

“You mean caged.” There was a definite growling edge to his voice.

“Term it however you want, Wolverine, but she needs to be monitored and contained.”

Logan shifted so that he was primed for motion. “She’s where she belongs.”

Nick straightened his shoulders. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Logan.”

“Funny.” -SNIKT- “I was thinking the same thing.”

~Logan, no!~ Xavier rolled between Logan and the door. ~The men have orders to shoot to kill. You may survive, but Ororo won’t.~

Logan couldn’t prevent his startled gaze from flickering over the Professor then back to Fury. The doors parted and armed soldiers strode through. Fury motioned Logan to step aside.

“It’s for the best,” Nick said. “This way she’s kept secure.”

Logan’s entire body shook with the desire to gut everyone in that room. Fear and rage boiled within. “Don’t do this, Nick.”

“I’m sorry, Wolverine. My hands are tied.” Nick’s voice was tinged with a trace of regret.

One of the soldiers moved towards Ororo.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch her!” Logan whirled, grabbing the soldier nearest to him and pointing his extended claws scant inches from the soldiers face.

“You won’t like where this leads…just calm down, Wolverine.” Nick held up his hands placating.

“Get out. Get your men and get the fuck out,” Logan snarled, his face contorted in rage.

Clicks of rifles readying were muffled by roaring thunder, the sound effectively stilling the occupants of the room. All eyes shifted to the woman on the bed.

“C’mon, baby, wake up.” Logan whispered. Ororo however remained unmoving.

Twap. Logan jerked as a small dart struck his neck. With a slurred growl he reached up, pulling the tranq from his skin. It was heavy duty, most likely designed specifically for him, causing his vision to begin to blur and the room to tilt. Twap. Another struck his thigh. “Nnnnno.” He staggered, his grip on the unnamed soldier lessening. One knee hit the floor, followed reluctantly by the other. Logan’s glazed over gaze sought and found the sympathetic blue eyes of Xavier. “Don’t…’Ro…” He never felt his face smack the cold tile.

“This is truly for the best, Charles.” Nick said as his men lifted Ororo. “She’ll be better off and we’ll all be kept safe.”

Xavier gave the unconscious Wolverine a look. “Just keep telling yourself that, General.”

The room was dark when he opened his eyes, but he knew he wasn’t alone.

“Logan--”

“Where is she?” It was immediate and instinctive, the growl in his voice. Harsh and loud in the stillness of the room it spoke volumes about his state of mind.

“Logan, listen to me. There are things beyond your understanding at work here. If you will let me explain--”

-SNIKT- Three razor sharp adamantium claws came to rest against the tender underside of Xavier’s chin. “I won’t ask again.” In one smooth motion Logan had swung his legs over the side of the bed and managed to surprise Xavier with the swiftness of his attack.

“I do not know Ororo’s whereabouts,” Charles said finally, swallowing carefully. He knew the Wolverine walked a precarious tightrope between man and beast on his best days, but now, given the recent circumstances, Charles knew that the animal was far closer to breaking free than ever before.

Logan sniffed the air, his lip curling back to reveal his long incisors. “I smell bull shit.”

“No,” Charles said quickly. “I am telling you the truth. I do not know where Storm is.” And he needed a calm rational Logan if they ever were to know.

Logan pressed his hand forward a bit, the urge to punch through the tendons and veins of Xavier’s throat nearly overwhelming him. “You let them take her.”

Charles, forced to tilt his head back in order to prevent the metal from breaking skin, replied, “Wolverine…Logan, you don’t understand.”

“I should kill you,” Logan snarled, his eyes glittering with feral intensity.

“You won’t. You‘re not that man anymore.”

Logan bent his head, leaning forward so that he was nose to nose with the man whose dream he had so willingly followed and to hell with the consequences. “Wanna bet?”

Charles had never seen a look so savage in a man’s eyes before. Wolverine was teetering on the precipice between man and animal, and the man was losing. “I had no choice, Logan. Please, remove your claws so we can talk like civilized men.”

“I ain’t feelin’ civilized.” But he retracted any way, something in Charles’ eyes making him hesitate. A hard -SNACKT- marked the return of his claws to their forearm housing.

“Thank you.” Charles rubbed his hand over his neck.

Logan glowered. “Here’s what yer gonna do, Chuck. Yer gonna wheel yerself into Cerebro and do whatever fancy minds shit you need to do and find ‘Ro.”

Charles sighed heavily. “And what then, Logan?”

“Then I go get her,” he replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“There are far too many unknown variables at this time. I can not jeopardize any of the other X-Men. If we attempt to retrieve Storm from government hands we could place all of the X-Men at risk.”

“Yer just gonna fuckin’ write her off? Why? Because she’s sick? Is that how it works, eh, Charlie. You only care so long as there’s something’ in it for you?”

“It is not like that, Wolverine.”

“Sure as fuck is like that, Professor.” He spat the title like it was vile on his tongue. “This is ‘Ro we’re talkin’ about. You remember right? The woman willin’ to put the X-Men before herself.”

Xavier took a calming breath, his somber gaze flicking briefly to his left, giving Logan pause. “I have other students to think about, Wolverine.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.” Logan straightened, his jaw set.

“There is more at stake than your personal involvement!”

Logan leaned back, taking in for the first time the haggard lines under Xavier’s eyes and the shallow brackets around his mouth. Xavier looked like hell. “What is it you ain’t telling’ me, Chuck?”

Xavier ran his hand over his face. “There is nothing that I am keeping from you. I am asking you to let this go for the betterment of the team.”

Logan felt a growl building in his chest, but before he could unleash a bevy of vulgarities upon the man in the wheelchair he felt the front portion of his head begin to tingle.

*In my office, hidden in the false bottom of the left bottom drawer there’s a file. Take it. It‘s all the help I can offer at this time.*

“Do you understand me, Logan?”

Logan nodded tersely. “I hear ya, Chuck.”

*There are soldiers in the upper hallways.*

Logan didn’t so much as blink to give away what he was being told.

*They are the last remaining. Fury and the bulk of his forces have already departed. I assume the men left behind are to ensure that we do not attempt to follow. If you are to leave and find Ororo it must appear that you do so against my request.*

Logan shifted his weight, a subtle movement, a ripple of muscle beneath cotton. His steel eyes met Xavier’s steadily. He understood. Once he left the mansion he would be on his own. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, but since Ororo, his emotions had shifted, and for the first time in a long, long time, he felt as if he was leaving home.

Xavier lifted his chin proudly, as though he sensed his thoughts. *Godspeed, Logan.*



It had been a mere forty-eight hours since he’d gone rogue but Logan felt like he’d been on the road forever. To make him even more miserable he didn’t seem to be any closer to finding Ororo than he had been the moment he’d woken in his room.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; he thought as he pulled the folded file he’d taken from Xavier’s desk from his brown leather bike pack. He was in full predator mode. He would track and hunt and find the people responsible for taking Ororo away from him; and if any of them tried to keep him from her, he’d make damn sure they knew what their intestines looked like, up close and personal.

He reached into his coat pocket removing the previously snubbed remains of a cigar. He clenched it between his teeth, striking a match against the seat of his bike. He inhaled slowly, working the kink in his back. They never lasted long, his healing factor made certain of that, but it was still an ache that needed to be addressed when driving long distance on his bike. Once the ache began to subside he opened the “stolen” folder and studied the contents as he had done time and again over the past two days. He memorized the names listed throughout the scant pages and took his time with the photographs.

He carefully lifted a newspaper clipping from the file, reading it over for the hundredth time, and still not finding any connection that made sense.


The small town of Bellridge, Montana was surprised to find themselves the lucky destination for wealthy heiress Lilandra Neramani. The satellite communications heiress worth billions proudly opened what she hopes is the first of many Church of the Shi’ar. A small religious group founded eons ago, according to Neramani, a group that worships what they call the Higher Order of the Phoenix God. When asked about her unusual religion, Ms. Neramani had this to say: ‘The Shi’ar are unusual in comparison and regards to conventional religion, but really, we are no more outrageous than Scientologists. Belief is a matter of faith and knowledge. We know that the Phoenix God exists and we have faith that we will one day be witness to its glorious rebirth.’

Above the caption was a picture of an attractive woman with dark hair and angular features. She was standing at the base of a tall statue in front of a short staircase that led into a quaint looking building. On the steps stood a half a dozen fellow Shi’ar members.

It was a small group by all accounts; one that should have barely registered on the radar, but had somehow raised concern with Xavier. Of course, reading Charles’ notes, Logan knew that Xavier’s main concern was for Jean, as she had once been a highly focused target for the Hellfire Club, a group of rich, social elite mutants that believed Jean to be the reincarnation of the Phoenix God.

Whether or not it was the same said Phoenix God that the Shi’ar worshipped was not determined, but Xavier had not liked the coincidence and had begun collecting data on the small church. In his notes he wrote of a peculiarity in the fact that he could not locate or contact Lilandra telepathically, not even with Cerebro.

Having read through the contents completely Logan returned the clipping to the folder, and then the folder to his pack. He tossed the remains of his cigar onto the damp ground, smothering the lingering ember with his boot. He cricked his neck and remounted the Harley.

What these nut jobs wanted with ‘Ro, he had no idea, and why Fury was helping them was even more confusing, but come hell or Phoenix rising, he damn sure intended to find out. One way or another.




Montana (Underground)

“She needs help!” General Nick Fury slammed his hand against the glass partition separating him and the others in the observation area from the woman screaming in the next room. His stomach churned as he watched Ororo Munroe drop to her knees, clutching her stomach as she vomited steaming rivulets of blood onto the cement floor.

The slender woman beside him watched also, her own eyes shone with sympathy, but overshadowing that emotion was…expectation. “She will receive the finest medical attention, General, I assure you. Just as soon as we get what we need.”

“She needs medical attention now.” He was blatantly ignored.

Lilandra turned to one of the men beside her. “Any new markings, D‘Kal?”

“None yet, Majestrix.” He maneuvered the joystick of the camera controls around the room below.

“Room temperature is dropping. Rapidly.” Another man informed them. “20 degrees Celsius, 15, 5, -10, -20...still dropping.”

“Jesus.” Fury looked on in horror as feathers of ice spread along the floor, crawling up the wall, freezing the blood on the floor.

“Not our God,” Lilandra murmured.

Below Ororo rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. The pain was too much. She couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t breath. The burning was unending now, red hot talons of pain raking across her body, driving her mad. Maybe, maybe if she made it cold, then the burning would stop…Please, let it stop….

“Aaaaaaaauuuuugggghhhhhh!!” Storm arched her back, forming a perfect bow as her body was completely overrun with pain.

“Vitals are all over the place!”

“Room temp is now -60 degrees Celsius.”

Fury grabbed Lilandra’s arm. “Help her.”

Black eyes, seemingly infinite and containing all the mysteries of the universe turned up at him. “You overstep yourself, General.” She gave his hand on her arm a pointed look.

“This is madness.” He swore, releasing her.

“Madness?” Lilandra repeated. “No, I can assure it is not. This is destiny.”
“Destiny? For what? A mythological firebird?” Fury snorted.

“Far from Myth, General. The Phoenix God is very real.”

The windows began to frost thickly, obscuring their view of the room and occupant below. “Switch to thermals,” Lilandra ordered.

Four screens blinked to life, all illuminating the writhing figure in the other room from different angles. Each camera was set up in a way that it could capture images of any new glyph formations that may appear on Ororo’s flesh.

Thunder boomed, shaking the room despite the fact that it was located several hundred feet underground.

“Negative eighty-five degrees Celsius.”

“Vitals still erratic. Body temperature is unreadable.”

“Open the doors,” Fury ordered.

Lilandra gave him a placating look. “I understand your concern; truly I do. However, you must understand that for all pain she suffers this woman is leading us to our destiny and the rebirth of the Phoenix God.”

“You’re outta your damn mind, lady.” Nick shook his head.

Lilandra’s lips thinned. “You have overstayed your welcome, General. You have done your part, and now the rest lies within our hands. Your assistance in the Phoenix’s rebirth will not be forgotten.”

Nick’s jaw tightened. “No. I am sure it won’t be.” Not by me, and not by Wolverine.

“Majestrix, she is speaking.”

Lilandra turned away from Fury, her attention immediately focused on the room below again.

“Nveut, Mirriawae. N’yuni moto! Caedo finit!”

Lilandra grinned. “Are you getting all of this?”

“Yes, Majestrix,” D’Kal answered, his won mouth lifted in a smile.

“Room temperature rising.” The other tech, a new recruit named Daniel, soon to be renamed in Shi’ar tradition, stated. His announcement was unnecessary as the room’s rising temperature became evident with the steaming glass and dripping water from melting frost.

As the window cleared and the lower room was once more visible to the naked eye, Fury leaned forward and suddenly wished he hadn’t. Seated in a pool of her own vomited blood Ororo Munroe’s calm blue eyes were staring directly at him, but it wasn’t the warm summer day blue of her eyes or their directness that bothered him. It was the fistfuls of white in Ororo’s hands. Clutched to her chest like prized possessions she held the bloody strands of her once glorious mane.

“It will probably be wise to shave her head,” Lilandra told D’kal as casually as if she was commenting on the weather.

Below them, Ororo was shaking. She could still feel the stinging talons of pain and hear the screeching in her head, but it was quieter than before, giving her a blessedly brief moment of lucidity. “Sieviette mia Soku hiedya biraie mia vazitte …Please.” Ororo beseeched. “Please…”

Nick backed away from the glass. “What did she say just now?” He asked, clearing his throat.

Lilandra didn’t immediately respond to his inquiry.

“I know you can understand her. What did she say?” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. It was the voice he used with his men.

Lilandra for the first time since he had met her looked troubled. “She said ‘Don’t let my death destroy my life mate’.”

“Shit.” Nick looked back through the glass. “This needs to end, Ms. Neramani, and end now. You made assurances that Storm would not be permanently harmed in any way, and forgive me for being so blunt, but death is pretty fucking permanent.”

“I am afraid we can not stop now, General. We are so very close.”

“You will stop.” He ordered.

“By whose authority? Yours?” She scoffed a bit. “We have gone higher than you, General. Much higher.”

“We’ll see.” Nick pulled out his phone.

“By all means, General, make your calls. You shall see.” Lilandra went back to the monitors completely unconcerned.

Twenty minutes later, as it turned out, she had no reason to be. Nick rubbed his temples, completely infuriated by the lack of progress he had made, and even more pissed off by how deep Lilandra Neramani’s pockets ran. Having funded several senators’ complete campaigns as well as contributing heavily to the current President, the Shi’ar Majestrix had successfully imbedded herself so that no amount of saber shaking from him would do any good.

He ran the broad width of his thumb over the slightly raised number pads on his phone. There was one more phone call to make.

She was burning up again.

Ororo groaned in agony; too weak to cry out any more. With a grimace she folded over onto herself, cradling her abdomen as familiar razor sharp burning lanced her internal organs. Would it never end?

~The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain…~

Ororo opened her bloodshot eyes, a wan smile touching her chapped lips. “Henry,” she whispered his name. “If that’s true, I must be a damn God.”

Her blue furred friend smiled gently in return. ~A Goddess amongst mortals.~ He assured her.

Ororo blinked, gasping against another onslaught of fire that raced through her. “It hurts,” she hissed in quiet agony.

~I know.~ His voice was full of tender concern. He maneuvered his large frame with grace and agility so that he slid into the bed beside her. He gently took her hand from her abdomen and placed it within his much larger one before bringing it over his heart. ~Better.~

Ororo let out a soft sigh of unexpected relief. Yes, it was. The pain was gone, and for what felt like the very first time in her life, she was able to breathe without constriction. She also noted that the ‘better‘ hadn‘t been a question, but rather a statement. Henry had known that his touch would help her. Henry knew things. She recalled his presence in the foyer of the institute the night they brought her to this place; this hell of hells. “What’s happening to me?”

~The complexities of your particular situation are not completely known to me, dearest wind-rider.~

She inhaled slowly, savoring the pain free breathing. “But you do know something,” she prodded.

His deep blue eyes wavered. ~Yes.~

“Then spit it out, Blue. I don’t expect you to have all the answers, I’d be happy with any. Just tell me what you do know.” Her eyes searched his.

~Shhh, you should conserve your strength. I can not keep the pain at bay forever.~

“I can handle the pain. It’s nothing compared to what I felt losing you.” She touched his face. “It’s the not knowing that’s so hard.”

He gave her a rueful smile. ~I always did believe you to be too stubborn for your own good.~ He looked so sad that she wanted to weep for him.

“Learned from the best.” She let her fingertips trail through the fur at the base of his neck, watching the strands melt through her fingers. Not sift, as normal hair or as even his fur should, but truly melt. She shook her head, lifting her troubled gaze to his. “What’s happening to me?”

***


Lilandra Neramani watched the monitors carefully, perplexed by the latest development. All of Ororo Munroe’s readings had leveled off. Her body temp was normal, O2 levels were well within range, her heart was beating steady and her brain waves were that of a person in REM sleep. She frowned, a single furrow marring the porcelain perfection of her forehead.

One long, well manicured fingertip tapped against the temperature readout as Lilandra traced the alarmingly high spikes; all of which resulted in another episode from Ororo. For them to have completely leveled off was unacceptable. She peered through the glass into the room below.
Ororo sat in the center of her bed, legs crossed lotus style, her hands limp at her sides and her eyes staring blankly straight ahead. Meditation? Lilandra reached into her cubby and pulled out her clip board. She flipped through several marked pages, scanning quickly as she did. Nowhere in her papers was it noted that Ororo performed meditation rituals.

It was highly unlikely to cause any complications, and perhaps could even be helpful, but Lilandra despised unknowns. Too much depended on the woman in the room downstairs. An unexpected find on their part, Lilandra couldn’t help but think how blessed the Shi’ar were to have stumbled upon SHIELD and their files. It was as if destiny had manifested herself and shown them the way to achieve their dream.

The resurrection of the Phoenix God was imminent. Just the idea made Lilandra’s pulse quicken. They were so close…and Ororo Munroe was the key.

***

~When you cry, it rains. When you are angry thunder echoes your mood, and when you grieve the very Earth grieves with you.~

“Yes.” Ororo nodded. “So, what of it?”

Henry smiled indulgently. ~Did it ever occur to you that perhaps this link you share with the planet runs both ways?~

“I’m not sure I understand.”

~If the Earth weeps when you weep, and rages when you rage, and aches when you ache…~ He let his sentence trail off.

Ororo’s face reflected puzzled thinking. “Are you saying that the pain I feel now isn’t my own?”

He gave her his patented ‘ah-ha’ look.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand, trying to grasp what Henry was suggesting. “So this horrible pain that I‘m feeling… is the planet’s pain?” He made no response, but stared at her patiently. “Alright, even if I accept that to be true, there are still a lot of other questions. What about the markings? The funny language?”

~The markings are glyphs.~

“Glyphs.” Ororo repeated, her voice muted in thought. “Uhn-huh.”

~The language you speak so eloquently is unknown on Earth by most people. It is long believed to be the first language in the Universe. The language of the creator.~

“Well, aren’t I impressive,“ she tried to joke, but neither laughed. She continued after a short, contemplative pause, “I’ve heard the word Shee-ar a lot lately. What is that?”

~The Shi’ar, at best, are a religious organization. At worst, they are a cult, capable of such diabolical things like kidnapping a beautiful woman and using her as a divining rod to locate their beloved Phoenix God.~

Ororo was startled. “Wait. The Phoenix God? Didn’t the Professor and Jean already deal with these robe wearing nut jobs?”

~Professor Xavier had run ins with Sebastian Shaw and his Hellfire Club. Another group of worshippers devoted to the Phoenix God. The Hellfire members were once a sect of the Shi’ar that defected. Instead of wishing to see the rebirth of the God, they believed that they could harness the Phoenix through a host and use the God’s power at their leisure.~

“Wasn’t Jean their host of choice?” Ororo asked, mulling over every detail that Hank was giving her.

~Indeed. Jean has power beyond any telepath on the planet, including Professor Xavier. If anyone could harness and host a power like the Phoenix it would be her.~ Henry stroked her cheek softly. ~You look tired.~

“Yeah, well, feeling like your insides are being carved out does that.” She cocked her head, regarding him. “If Jean could host it, then why come after me? I don’t understand.”

He smiled indulgently. ~Unlike the Hellfire members, the Shi’ar do not wish to harness the Phoenix. They want to see it reborn in all of it’s glory.~

“Ok, ok, so, the Shi’ar worship this Phoenix thingy and are waiting for it’s second coming or something?”

~Something like that.~

“I’m sorry, Henry, but I still don’t get what any of that has to do with me.”

***

Lilandra’s fingers moved rapidly over the computer keyboard, her strokes hard and sure. She’d run this program a hundred times already, and knew it inside and out. She changed equations, modified symbols and still something was missing.

She leaned back in her chair, frustration evident by the set of her jaw. She watched the spinning three-dimensional glyphs on the flat screen in front of her with calculating black eyes. The images were scans of the markings that had been appearing on Ororo with greater and greater frequency. Lilandra, having studied the Shi’ar texts extensively understood most of them to be nothing more than navigational directions, but even when laid out in order, they made absolutely no sense.

She shoved herself away from the computer, rising to her feet and pressing her hands into the small of her back. She paced the room, running the glyphs and spoken words through her head over and over again, trying to piece together what didn‘t fit. She’d tried every known set of coordinates related to Earth against the glyphs, and charted several maps, all of which led her in complete circles no matter what her starting point.

They were so very close and yet so far away. The Phoenix would bring about Universal utopia to its followers. It would rebuild the Universe to be perfection for them, and burn away what didn’t work. It would be beautiful. Perfect. Bliss.

She wanted to scream in frustration. She refrained from doing so, holding onto her dignity and her steadfast belief that she would see the Phoenix rise. All she needed was faith and patience.

Faith she had plenty of. Patience on the other hand, she was rapidly running out of. She pressed the intercom button to the room below. “Wake up, Storm. Your destiny is calling.”

***

Henry tilted his head, his face momentarily flashing a look of fierce anger that would have paused the Wolverine.

“Henry?”

~We do not have much time, I’m afraid.~

Ororo tried not to tense at the thought of him leaving her and the pain returning, but she did and he felt it. She flexed her fingers in his and already he felt less substantial. “Henry?”

~Hold on to me, Ororo. Just a little longer.~

“Alright.”

~The only things that I can tell you with any certainty is that the Phoenix God is legitimate, and by that I mean that such a creature exists. Whether it be a God or Alien Force is not for me to determine. This creature has been written about and talked about since before Earth existed. Supposedly it is the spark of creation, it is the force that ignited all life, and is said to be the fire that will ultimately consume it.~

“Wow. Nifty.”

~Isn’t it though?~ He teased back, knowing she needed some levity to help ease the burden he was laying on her. ~Eons ago, it is said that certain races all over the universe formed and alliance with the sole purpose of destroying the Phoenix, fearing it’s destructive capabilities.~

“Isn’t that always the way?” Ororo said sadly; sleepily. “Destroy what you don’t understand.”

~Unfortunately that is all too often the way, but we digress. I need you to stay with me for just a bit longer.~ He jostled her carefully.

“I’ll stay with you, Henry. I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

He touched her cheek again, gentle regret in his eyes. ~I am not so selfish as to keep you from Logan. He would hunt me down I am certain, despite the mortal barrier between us.~

Ororo smiled dreamily at the mention of Logan. “He loves me.” She said softly. “Mia Soku.”

Henry nodded somberly. ~You make it hard not love you.~

“Hmmm…Pretty colors…”

Henry held her hand tighter, but she barely felt it. ~Listen, Ororo. Listen to me. Unable to stop the Phoenix, the members of the alliance were forced to imprison it.~

“Cage the bird…”

~Yes. In a manner. The Phoenix was surrounded and cocooned. The gravitational pull of the cocooned Phoenix drew in elements from all over the solar system. Together they formed a molten sphere, wherein this sphere the Phoenix beat like a heart. Trapped.~

Ororo shuddered. As a claustrophobe she couldn’t imagine a worse fate. “Poor Phoenix…”

Henry tilted her chin towards him. ~Ororo, this is important. The molten sphere turned into a planet. This planet.~

Ororo frowned. “The Phoenix is here?” She looked around, but only saw colors swirling and blending. She turned back to Henry, whose blue had begun to churn and smear. “Smush face,” she pinched his cheek.

~Storm. Snap out of it! Stay lucid.~ Henry demanded.

She blinked rapidly, his gentle features once more in focus. “Ok. I’m here.” She smiled reassuringly. “What do I do? What does this mean?”

Henry gripped her tighter, sensing their time running out. ~Ororo, listen, if the Phoenix is trapped deep inside the Earth, and the Earth is the cage, and you share a bond with the planet then you…~

Ororo’s eyes widened as revelation overtook her and she was overwhelmed with knowledge so vast and infinite it could not be solely hers.

In that split second Henry vanished, leaving her alone on her bed and bombarded by tearing pain. “Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!” Lightning shot from her eyes and mouth straight to the ceiling, scorching the tiles as Ororo’s entire body glowed with glyphs and markings.

Above, Lilandra smiled widely as she watched the display. It all made sense now…



Westchester, New York


Jean Grey punched her pillow before flopping back down on it. She couldn’t sleep. She was too worried about Storm and Logan. She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest. She should have known something was wrong with Ororo. She should have sensed it.

She closed her eyes, hearing Ororo’s voice in her head. “Aeir d‘eai, aeriate nemieweih! Sliviette…N’yuni moto, mvua, mvua. Caedo liefhe.” Those were the words she had called out to Jean as she lay on the foyer floor in pain. At the time Jean had taken them for the ramblings of a fevered, distorted mind, but now, replaying them in her head, she was not so sure. There was something familiar about them.

Jean swore angrily, sitting up once again. It was like an itch in her brain, driving her nuts. She knew the words, but yet she didn’t. Before she could contemplate further, her bedroom door swung open.

“Get your suit, Marvel Girl. We’re heading out.” Cyclops stood in the doorway, illuminated by the hall light.

Jean swung her legs over the side of the bed. “We have news?”

Cyclops nodded. “Fury just called Xavier. We know where they’ve taken Storm.”

Jean flung her hand and her closet doors flung open simultaneously, her X-suit floated to her outstretched fingers. She nodded once, her red hair lifting from her shoulders as a flash of telekinetic flames danced in her eyes. “We’re taking her back.” It wasn’t a question. “Has anyone contacted Logan?”

Scott shook his head. “He didn’t bring a phone or a communicator. The Professor is trying in Cerebro now.”

“Good.” Jean lifted her arms, her nightclothes being removed telekinetically.

Scott turned his head to the side. “It’s hard to stay focused when you do that.”

Despite the gravity of the situation Jean warmed beneath his ruby eyed gaze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jean slid her leather pants into place. “When we come home I’ll show you how fast I can take yours off.” She finished dressing.

“Let’s roll.” Scott took her hand in his, lacing their fingers.

***

The War Room was full of tense emotions when Jean and Scott entered. Shadowcat, Rogue, Iceman, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Dazzler and Warren all stood waiting. None of them had taken the seats at the table, all too restless and agitated to sit. Kitty chewed her nails anxiously while Rogue shuffled cards through her fingers and Peter and Bobby stood silently contemplative.

“Why are we still even here?” Alison demanded, her face a mask of barely controlled fury. “If we know where they took her, why aren’t we already gone?”

“We’re waiting for the Professor,” Cyclops stated. Jean admired the tone he used. Unflappable. Scott oozed confidence and authority. It was what made him a good leader.

“Fucking bullshit!” Ali swore.

“Easy, liebling.” Kurt placed his arm around her waist. “We are all anxious to be under way, but to go without a plan of attack would be foolish.”

Ali relaxed a bit in his embrace. “I know. I’m just…”

“We all are.” Kurt pressed his lips to her forehead.

The hydraulic doors parted with a low hiss, drawing everyone’s eyes to the door and the wheelchair bound man rolling towards them.

“X-Men,” Charles greeted.

“What’s the plan?”

“You are all headed to Montana. There you will extract Storm from the holding center that she is being detained at by a religious organization known as the Shi’ar.” Xavier’s eyes momentarily rested on Jean. “They are to be considered dangerous. Avoid violence if possible, but do not underestimate these people. According to General Fury they are technologically advanced and skilled fighters.”

“Why do they have Storm? Why isn’t Storm with Fury? SHIELD are the ones that took her.” Ali again.

“General Fury was simply following orders. By contacting me he has put not only his job, but perhaps his very life at risk.”

Ali rolled her eyes.

“Who are the Shi’ar?” Jean asked, sensing that the Professor was hesitating.

“Worshippers of the Phoenix,” was his only reply. It was more than enough. Jean took a step back.

“What do they want with Storm?” She asked, hating herself for the flash of panic she was feeling.

“I do not know.” Charles replied honestly.

“Who cares what they want?” Ali snapped. “All we need to know is that those fuckers have Storm.”

There were a few nods of agreement from the other team members.

“I say we worry about the hows and whys after we get Ororo back.” Peter added.

“I couldn’t agree more.” The Professor nodded. “You’ll find two sets of coordinates in the Blackbird computer.”

“Two?” Kitty asked.

Jean’s mouth tilted. “One set telling us where Storm is, and one set for the man who would hand us our butts if we made a move without him.”

“General Fury has given us the location, but he cannot removed the initial government restriction that we were placed under. Any action we take is in direct defiance of the United States government, do you understand?” Somber gray eyes scanned the room, asking each of them to weigh their options and the outcome of their actions. By going on this mission they were marking themselves as outlaws and all the consequences that came with it.

“We understand.” Cyclops said with determination, his mouth a thin line. “Let’s move!”

“Jean,” Charles called to her. “It may be better for you to stay here--”

“I’m going.” She shook her head, halting any further words.

He accepted her decision. “Good luck then, X-Men.”


Canada

Logan tilted his head to the side, his highly developed hearing picking up a faint, but familiar sound. One he hadn’t expected to hear, but was glad of it. He pulled his bike over to the side of the road, killing the engine. He lifted his eyes skyward and waited.

Sure enough the Blackbird soared into his line of sight, and slowed to hover above him, the eerie blue flames of their top secret engine flared bright against the sky. The cargo hatch opened to reveal Jean standing in the opening, her hair whipping about her head like a banner. “Going our way?”

Logan, who had been riding without sleep since he left the mansion had made significant progress in getting to Montana. He gave Jean a dark look. “’Bout damn time you caught up.”

She spread her fingers and his bike shook. “Well, some of us wait for a plan before flying off the handle.” She concentrated a bit more and was rewarded as both Harley and rider floated into the Blackbirds cargo area.

“Plans are for chumps.” Logan huffed, dropping the kickstand and righting the bike. Once satisfied that his Harley was secure he stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “So, what is this master plan you waited so patiently for?” he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of anger, as he followed Jean to the front of the jet and his usual seat.

“Kick ass and take names,” Alison answered. She looked downright relieved to see him. Obviously he wasn’t the only one worried about Ororo.

“Fuck the names,” he answered, clasping her briefly on the shoulder as he passed.

“Yeah,” Ali murmured in agreement. She turned to stare out the window. “Fuck the names.”

***

Ororo had always believed that she was special. Even when she was lost and alone, feasting out of back alley dumpsters, she had felt…different, unique, gifted. Had she known then what her gift truly was she doubted that she’d have wanted it. In fact, she sincerely doubted that she would have allowed herself to live to see her mutation manifest.

Never one for self doubt and second thoughts, she immediately wondered if it would have made a difference anyway. Fate had a nasty way of working its way around even the most stubborn obstacles.

She wished Henry was with her again. More than that she wished Logan was with her. She closed her eyes, her breathing shallow in an attempt to control the tremors wracking her body. He would talk her through this. He would tell her to suck it up and fight. She was an X-Man, it’s what they did. He wouldn’t let her fail herself…and she wouldn’t fail him.

She grit her teeth against another inner assault, refusing to break beneath the horrific burning. She arched off of her bed, sweat pouring from her pores, soaking her clothes. “Uhnnnn.” She bit back a scream.

“Poor, poor, girl.” Lilandra stood over her. “It will all be over soon.” She lifted a long blade, it’s silver sheen reflecting Ororo’s drawn face. Lilandra turned away, placing the knife in the large pocket of her robe. “Bring her.”

Ororo felt any hopes she had fading with each dull thud of her heart. She could feel it acutely now, the pain, and knew the sickening feelings for what they were. She almost laughed it was so farfetched. She was feeling what the planet was feeling as a very pissed off entity was trying desperately to claw it’s way out from it’s celestial prison.

She screamed hoarsely as she felt another rake of talon against her abdomen. She stumbled back against the man holding her upright as Lilandra reached for her. The tall ethereally beautiful woman lifted Ororo’s sweat soaked dressing gown, pointing at the crimson lines appearing in crisscross fashion against Ororo’s smooth skin.

“See how the Phoenix God struggles to be free! She knows we are here, and that we are her liberators!” Lilandra announced joyously. “We must get her to the temple!”

***


Inside the Shi’ar church Lilandra raised her hand to quiet the cheers of the people around her as they made their way to the front of the room. Lilandra wore a red and gold velvet robe and elaborate gold headdress adorned with feathers. The members present, also cloaked in robes, were the elite few designated by the Majestrix to bear witness to the rebirth of the Phoenix God. She bestowed upon them a gentle smile as she passed.

“It is our job as Phoenix’s devout follower to see that she is reborn. To give her the freedom she so desperately seeks. A freedom that will enable her to create our blessed utopia. To breathe her purification and cleanse us all!” Lilandra exclaimed from stage in the front of the ensemble.

Another rousing round of cheers echoed throughout the church.

“This is our destiny! This is our right as the Shi’ar! We are the ones to provide deliverance for the Phoenix, and my friends, my brethren,” Lilandra spread her arms as if to encompass the whole of them. “I have been shown the way.” She nodded towards D’Kal and the newly christened D’Kain.

Both men grabbed Ororo’s arms, leading her towards a white cloth covered table with candles burning around it.

“No!” Ororo struggled in vain, her attempts too weak to make any difference as she was pinned effortlessly to the table. One man at her head holding her arms down, the other at her feet, pinning her legs. “No!” She arched and kicked, but to no avail.

Lilandra lifted the long blade from within the confines of her cloak.

Ororo’s eyes widened in horror. She tossed her head back and forth. “No! It will destroy you all! You don‘t understand!”

Lilandra’s face contorted in anger. “Blasphemer!” Immediately the anger was replaced by a look of practiced serenity. “But I do not blame you for your fear and confusion, child. Confused and misguided by the world you live in it is no surprise that you know not what you are and your place in the great design.”

Ororo concentrated, her blue eyes fading white. “I am Storm!” she shouted. “I know who, and what I am! You seem to have forgotten!”

The church doors slammed open, buffeted by raging winds. However, as quickly as the swirling gale appeared, it dissipated. Far too weak from her bouts of pain and sleeplessness Ororo couldn’t maintain the winds.

She felt overwhelmed, and she trembled with exhaustion.

Lilandra mistook it for fear.

“Easy, dear. Do not be afraid. Your sacrifice is for the greater good.”

“Fuck you,” Ororo whispered, a single tear escaping the corner of her eye.

Lilandra clamped her lips together to prevent from disgracing herself in front of the other Shi’ar members. She moved to stand beside the altar so that she faced her congregation. “This woman is a mutant.” Lilandra touched Ororo’s forehead gently. “The next stage in human evolution. A leap forward granted by the Phoenix. Throughout this planet’s history there are events that no one can explain. Creatures that defy logic. We know the answer to these supposed leaps, because we are the chosen ones. We know that it has been and always will be through the Phoenix that life is created, and it is through her that we will find ultimate peace and happiness.”

She lifted Ororo’s dressing gown again. She ran her fingertips over the crimson ridges, cooing softly; almost crooning. “Along with being a mutant, this child of the Phoenix is cursed. She is cursed because she has been simultaneously the lock and key holding the Phoenix prisoner!”

Gasps and startled breaths filtered through the mass of people. They pressed forward, all wanting a better look at the person responsible for the Phoenix’s imprisonment.

Ororo squirmed. “You’re crazy, lady.”

“The time has come to see our dreams realized!” Lilandra continued, ignoring Ororo. She laid the curve of the ceremonial blade against Ororo’s navel. Lilandra stared deep into Ororo’s eyes, her own gaze almost tender. “To free the Phoenix, we must first remove the cage!” The blade plunged deep.

***
Logan cracked his knuckles.

“Could you not do that?” Kitty asked.

He snarled.

“Oookay.” She sat back, eyeing him warily.

Logan shifted, looking out the window, down towards the seemingly endless tree line. “How close are we?” he demanded.

Scott tossed him a look over his shoulder. “About three minutes out.” Cyclops banked right, suggesting that the team prepare to engage.

Logan sat a bit straighter. It would be the longest three fucking minutes of his life.

As if sensing his thoughts Jean swiveled in her seat so that she faced him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How you holding up?” she asked.

He gave her a look.

“Ok, dumb question.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t pull it off.

Logan leaned forward, his nose picking up the unease that Jean radiated. “Yer scared,” he stated.

Jean looked away. “Terrified.”

“Why? Because of the whole Phoenix thing?”

She nodded slowly.

“Talk to me, Red. I gotta know what we‘re going up against.”

She shifted, crossing her legs. After a shaky breath she began talking. “I don’t know anything about the Shi’ar, but I can tell you about the Hellfire Club. When the Hellfire club held me hostage, it was so that they could infuse me with this Phoenix God because they thought I could host it, or was the reincarnation of it, or something along those lines,” she waved her hand.

“I remember. You started sporting glowing wings and flamin’ hair after that.” He pointed out.

“Yes.” She acknowledged. “After the Phoenix touched me.” She stopped.

Logan reached across the aisle and gently squeezed her hand. “Go on.”

“Because of my powers, and my visions, I guess the Hellfire people figured I could handle it.” She closed her eyes. “But I couldn’t, Logan. I felt so small next to the Phoenix, and then it touched me and I was so very large. The Phoenix is real and so, very, very powerful.” She paused, reflecting quietly before continuing, “You know why humans can’t imagine infinity? Because we‘re not meant to. It‘s not an option for us. But for that brief moment when I came in contact with the Phoenix I could. I knew what limitless was, because I was suddenly without limits. Power. Unimaginable power. That’s what the Phoenix is.” She opened her eyes. “Power and now… desire. She tasted humanity on me, Logan. That’s why she wants to be let out. I know this, because I can feel it. Clawing away at my brain, I know it. Because of me, this cosmic force desires.”

“Jeannie, none of this is your fault.”

“Maybe not specifically,” she agreed. She gave the radar a quick glance before turning back to him. “But because of that momentary contact, Phoenix is hungry, Logan. She is infinitely hungry, and I can‘t think of anything strong enough to stop her if these people find a way to unleash her.”

Logan stilled, finally catching exactly what Jean was telling him.

Before they could continue Jean placed her hands against her head, and screeched loudly, her scream echoing in the confines of the Blackbird cabin, sounding eerily like the shriek of a falcon to Logan’s ears.

His blood went cold. “Jeannie?”

A tower of flame shot up from the ground, engulfing the plane.

“Jean!” Scott shouted, reaching for her.

“Sonofabitch!” Logan flinched away from the searing heat emanating off of the red head.

Fire ignited in the place of red hair and green eyes. Jean spread her arms and giant fire wings spread throughout the cabin. A terrible rending sound was heard as the wings of the Blackbird were blown clean off.

“Jean!” Scott bellowed, trying desperately to keep the nose of the spiraling jet in the air.

Ignoring Scott’s frantic cry and the screams of her team mates Jean tore the roof off of the Black bird, soaring into the sky with a deafening screech of rage.

Scott pressed the autopilot reflexively as he deftly unsnapped his harness. “Execute crash evacuation procedure, now!”

“Well, fuck.” Ali grabbed Kurt, who was prepared to teleport. Colossus, in steel form, had a grip on Kitty’s hand as she reached for Logan, grabbing his arm so she could phase them from the plummeting Blackbird.

Warren opened the main hatch, spreading his wings and gliding away from the falling aircraft. As practiced in the Danger Room he would be the team’s eye in the sky, making certain he knew where each one ended up.

Three puffs of smoke told him where Ali and Kurt had landed, followed closely by Bobby and Rogue on an ice slide. Colossus, Shadowcat and Wolverine fell towards the ground with all the speed and grace of a cannonball. Peter released Kitty’s hand halfway down, relying on his steel form to keep him from impact damage. Kitty and Logan fell straight through the ground, emerging a few moments later. Kitty sagged against a small tree, panting. Wolverine was frikkin’ heavy.

“Where’s Cyclops?” She asked after scanning her team mates.

Logan jerked his thumb skyward where Warren was swooping towards them with Scott dangling from his hands.

All nine X-Men watched in a type of morbid fascination as the Blackbird plowed into the tree line, then smashed into the ground with a thunderous crash sending dirt and rock skyward.

“So much for a ‘stealth’ approach,” Bobby muttered his skin changing from ice to fleshy pink.

“Shut up,” hissed Kitty.

“Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the moo-”

-SNIKT- “Lemme rephrase that for ya then; shut the fuck up. Now.”

“Shutting up.” Bobby made a button motion to his lips.

Warren and Cyclops landed a few feet away. Cyclops waved his arm. “Less than a quarter of a mile that way is the building.”

“Shi’ar,” Logan growled, recognizing the location from the dossier Xavier had given him. These were the fuckers that had taken ’Ro. He raised himself up a bit and scented the wind. What he caught on the breeze made him want to roar with rage. Blood. Ororo’s blood. With a savage snarl he set in motion without so much as a word, racing through the trees in the direction that Scott had pointed, and where the terrible smell of his love’s lifeblood was coming from.

“Wolverine!” Cyclops called. “God damn it!”


***

The Shi’ar temple was ablaze.

Logan knew long before he saw the hungry flames licking the walls of the building, or the toppled Phoenix statue. He could smell the charring of flesh, and feel the heat several hundred feet back. It didn’t prevent the surprise he felt upon seeing the raw carnage before him. In less than two minutes Jean had single handedly torched the entire compound.

Screams carried a wealth of pain as congregation members raced from the building and dropped to the ground in vain attempts to smother the flames that seemingly would not die, hungrily eating at their clothing and skin.

Briefly Jean’s words flashed through his mind. Infinitely hungry. He shook the words off and raced past the moaning, burning people without sparing a glance in their direction. Served the fuckers right. He took the front steps two at a time, running through the busted doors into the temple where he staggered to a halt in the aisle, his eyes locked on the horrific sight in front of him. Jean stood quietly at an altar of sorts, bent over a blood soaked table as quiet sobs wracked her body.

“Jeannie…?”

She whispered something incoherent, before lifting her tear and blood stained face. She stood slowly, revealing what she had covered.

“Oh, Jesus, no.” Logan did stumble then, his heart stopping in his chest. Ororo. Her name was a whispered prayer in his head and on his lips.

Jean shook her head mutely. “Those monsters…” she couldn‘t go on, her face crumpling.

Logan moved with painful slowness towards the altar and the woman lying there, broken and discarded.

“’Ro,” he whispered. Suddenly he had no lungs in which to breathe with, all of the oxygen was sucked from his body in a broken howl. He moved past Jean, reaching out shaking hands towards the still form on the table. “’Roro, baby…no.” He choked. He instinctively pressed his hands to the open wound on her stomach. The blood was warm, but her skin was cold.

“Logan.. she’s gone.” Jean whispered, her voice aching.

Ignoring her, he pulled Ororo up by her shoulders. He cradled the back of her head, pulling her close to his body. Her arms fell limply off the altar, dangling at her sides. Logan smoothed his hand over her face and along the short, short hairs on her head. “Look what they did to you.” His voice trembled. “They cut your beautiful hair.” He gave a choked cry, burying his face in her neck. “Wake up, ‘Ro. Please, wake up.”

Jean wrapped her arms around him and Ororo from behind, her cries more vocal than his. “She’s gone, Logan. She’s gone.”

Logan pressed Ororo closer, rocking. “No.”

“She has fulfilled her destiny.”

Both Logan and Jean lifted their tortured eyes towards the tall woman that emerged from seemingly out of thin air.

Logan’s lip curled, revealing fang, but he made no move, refusing to let go of Ororo. He recognized the scent of the woman, though he’d never met her. Her stench was all over Ororo.

Jean on the other hand had no such qualms. She released Logan and Ororo, stepping forward to face Lilandra.

“You crazed bitch,” Jean sneered..

Lilandra stiffened. “You, like so many others, have no concept of the greatness that we worship. But you will see. Now that the cage has been unlocked, the Phoenix shall return and light the Universe in divine light and purification.”

Jean’s harsh laugh caused the hairs on Logan’s neck to stand on end. He flicked a glance towards Lilandra and felt a flare of satisfaction at the look of unease on her face.

Jean moved from behind the altar, strands of her red and orange hair lifting and floating about her head like a halo. “Your precious Phoenix God.” She gestured towards the elaborate tapestries on the walls. “You wouldn’t know her even if you were face to face.”

Lilandra lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know that I share a divine connection with the Phoenix. It is in my lineage.”

“Wrong!” Jean snapped. “It was in her lineage,” she pointed towards Ororo’s limp form, still cradled in Logan’s arms. “You have no idea what you’ve done! The balance you’ve broken!” Jean’s composure faltered. “The friend you’ve taken!”

Lilandra appeared unaffected by Jean’s tirade.

Jean glared. “But you will understand. If it’s the last thing I do, I will help you understand what it is to lose.”

Logan felt the ground tremble. “Red?”

Jean spared him a glance. “It’s not me.”

Lilandra grinned. “She is coming! The Phoenix is coming!”

The walls began to crumble.

“Logan!” Jean called. “Time to move!”

Already in motion, Logan swung the lifeless Ororo up into his arms, running towards the doors. He was knocked to the ground as another huge fireball erupted into the sky. Logan rolled to a semi seated position, hefting Ororo against his shoulder. “JEAN!” He bellowed.

The fireball spread out into a much larger version of Jean’s familiar firebird. From the center of the impressive lightshow came a voice that any one that heard it would ever forget.

“I am fire made flesh! Life incarnate! The beating heart of this planet, and I hunger!”

Jean, tossed on the ground not far from Logan, lifted her head. “Oh, No…”
______________________________________________
AN: Ok, for everyone that thought Ororo was the Phoenix...sorry, even that delightful twist was too predictable for me. ;) More soon. And yes, she really is dead.

I travel though the wasteland in my heart
As the grievance tears me apart
Thinking of you and the things you meant to me
My heart is bleeding, I can't go on

If I could unwind the wheel of time
I would have been by your side

If I could turn back time
My precious love would be alive

The empty void inside my heart grows
I have nowhere to turn to ease the Pain
Remembering the smile you used to give me
And your laughter that could light
My way home

If I could unwind the wheel of time
I would have been by your side

If I could turn back time
I never had a chance to say goodbye

I have cried and mourned my loss
My heart keeps beating only for you
Am I strong enough to fight on?
Without your love I stand, I stand empty and alone

So my love watch over me now
My rage catches fire, I will strike them down
I will avenge you, oh, vengeance so sweet
That's my last gift for you
I'm forever walking alone


All of his life Logan had known pain, sometimes he thought that was all he’d ever know. Pain was his longtime companion, but he’d never really known love. That was, until Ororo. Until this spitfire of a woman, hell bent on doing her job, had drug his worthless ass back from the jungle and brought him face to face with the team he’d once betrayed and abandoned and with the man he was supposed to be.

He’d hurt and been hurt on more than one occasion. He’d lashed out, pushed away and ran more times than he could count, but Ororo had stood by him through it all, and made him look past it as well, downright forcing him to feel all the things he’d never wanted, or felt he deserved, to feel.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for her, and no amount of pain he’d suffered before could have prepared him for the grief that was welling up inside of him now as he held her limp, lifeless form close to his chest, willing her to live, wishing he could force his healing factor into her. “Please.” His voice was whisper soft, torn from the very depths of his soul.

“Wolverine.” Jean scrambled to his side, dirt and debris in her hair and on her face. Her emerald eyes glittered with unshed tears. “We’ve got to go.”

He snarled at her, but didn’t look at her.

Jean gave the screeching firebird hovering overhead a worried look. So far the Phoenix seemed content to simply bask in it’s freedom, shrieking it’s displeasure at being confined for so long. Jean had no idea how long their presence would go unnoticed by the cosmic being. Perhaps they were as insignificant as ants to such a creature. She didn’t know for certain, but she wasn’t willing to wait around and find out either. She reached for Logan’s arm. “She’s gone,” she whispered.

Logan heard the words, knew them to be true, he couldn’t hear the steady drum of Ororo’s heart, couldn’t feel her breathing, couldn’t catch a hint of warmth from her, he knew she was dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. His fingertips traced the smooth line of her jaw, skimming the thin faded scar along the curve left by Sabertooth. His throat closed up, constricting his breathing. He pressed his forehead to her cold cheek. There were so many times he had failed her.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed her still lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Wolverine.” Jean tried again. Then, softer, “Logan.”

He lifted his head, black eyes meeting Jean’s green. “Go on, Red.” He said quietly.

She shook her head, sensing his intentions. “It won’t bring her back,” she said.
He gently laid Ororo onto the ground, adjusting her clothing so that gash in her stomach was covered. He paused, his hand hovering over her silent form, of it’s own accord, unwilling to leave her completely. “I know,” he acknowledged. “But I don’t care.”
Determinedly he curled his fingers into a fist. He stood slowly. His grief and rage were consuming him. A fiery fury that was worthy of any mythological God. Logan’s eyes lifted to the Phoenix. Even that one. -SNIKT-

“Logan, stop!” Jean cried, tears in her voice.

He gave her a long look, full of sympathy, regret, tenderness and good bye, then uncharacteristically his mouth lifted in a quirky little smile. “Make sure to bury me next to ‘Ro.” Without another word he began to stalk towards the Phoenix, slicing apart any still breathing Shi’ar members that he came across.

Jean stared in open mouthed horror, watching as Logan became the living embodiment of fury and rage. If wrath were a physical being, it would be the feral known as Wolverine. He showed no mercy to the surviving congregation members, killing them ruthlessly and brutally. His claws found purchase again and again, becoming coated with blood. “Oh, my God,” Jean whispered.

“Jean!”

She turned, relief flooding her face as she spotted Scott leading the rest of the team towards her. *Scott*

*Did you find Storm?*

Jean swallowed, kneeling beside her fallen friend. *Scott, Ororo’s…we were too late.* She felt his shock and immediate sadness, but like the natural leader he was, Scott pushed it to the back of his mind for the time being and asked the next important question.

*Situation?*

Closing her eyes, Jean telepathically sent him everything that had transpired from the plane crash until his arrival. So much in such a short amount of time, she reflected absently. In less than ten minutes the X-Men’s world had once more been forever changed.

***

Logan lashed out violently, mindlessly, relying on instinct alone, letting the animal take over. He marched forward, never veering from his course, felling anyone foolish enough to come at him or unfortunate enough to be lying in his path. Blood sprayed his face and arms, soaking the charred ground. A few blades found their mark in his flesh before he could dispatch the men foolhardy enough to wield them, but even that didn’t slow him.

He was nearly directly below the Phoenix when he caught a whiff of something that made him stop mid-stride. He turned slowly, his entire body tense and rigid.

Lilandra Neramani lay on the ground, on her back, staring up at the Phoenix in awe. Her wide eyes and parted mouth bespoke of her wonderment. Her lifelong dream had finally been realized; she had witnessed the rebirth of her precious Phoenix God. The price of her dream be damned, and to hell with the consequences. If a few infidels had to die, then so be it, was her thoughts on the matter.

Wolverine sneered, diverting from his course and making his way towards the cult leader with his natural predatory stealth. She didn’t notice him until he knelt directly beside her.

Still, even then, she didn’t look away from the burning display of the Phoenix, but instead said with joy, “Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever see?”

Images of Ororo, smiling, laughing, loving, rose in Wolverine’s mind, flooding him. “No.” He grabbed Lilandra by the back of her head, forcing her to look at him, to meet his tortured gaze and the burning vengeance there.

She seem startled by his actions, her eyes flickering between him and the glowing God above. “You cannot harm me,” she said with surprising confidence for a woman in her position. “I am the Phoenix’s liberator. I am the chosen one. I am-”

“Worthless.” Wolverine provided on a growl. He slowly retracted all but one claw on his right hand. He held Lilandra’s gaze as he jerked her robe apart and tore her thin gown. He placed the tip of his solitary claw against her navel.

Her eyes widened.

“Was this where you started the cut?” He asked with a growl. He nudged his hand forward, piercing the skin, not enough to kill, but enough to cause significant pain.
Lilandra gasped. “She did not suffer,” she spoke quickly, hoping to stave his attack..

“Hnh.” A little deeper. “Too bad you won’t be able to say the same.”

Lilandra groaned, trying to push his hands off of her. “Stop. Stop, you’re killing me.”

He grinned with savage satisfaction. “I know.”

“I…am the Majextrix of the Shi’ar!” she proclaimed as if that would somehow deter him.

“Impressive.” He angled his fist, digging into Lilandra’s internals.

“Ahhhh!” she arched her back and cried out in pain.

“St-stop.” She begged. “We tried t-to spare you. We tried to k-keep you away from her.”

Logan paused, confusion crossing his bloodied, snarling features.

Lilandra took his confused pause and elaborated. “We d-didn’t know Xavier would send her too.”

Sabertooth. Realization filtered through the red haze in Logan’s mind. “You.” He said deadly soft. “You sent that monster.” He leaned down into her face. “You found my son, and used him to hunt me? That sick fuck raped her! My son, you used my SON, to hurt her. You sick, twisted bitch!”

“N-no.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t supposed to touch her. He-he was only supposed to bring you t-to us. But when-when he failed we needed to modify our plans. Victor Creed was not your child,” she gasped in hopes that the news that he hadn’t killed his son would somehow alleviate his rage. “We-we planted the results.”

“Why?” He snarled.

Lilandra gasped as he pressed forward with his hand. “Be-because! She was the only means that we had to find the Phoenix. Her destiny w-was greater than you. You were clouding her mind, keeping, uhhhhhnnnn, her from her potential! If you b-believed that she had been hurt by you, in some way, that y-you would leave.”

It infuriated Logan that she was right. He had tried to leave Ororo. He was willing to let it all go because he thought a part of him had hurt her. It killed him to know that Ororo’s last memories of him were of him trying to leave.

He shook away the pervasive thoughts that made his chest ache unbearably and instead focused on Lilandra and how she had known what his reaction would be. How did she have that kind of insight into his personality? His eyes narrowed. “You have my files, don’t you?” He growled.

“Yes,” she nodded quickly. “I can give them to you.” She gave him a confidential look. “I know things about you. I know who you really are. Even before Weapon X.”

“And you’ll give me everything if I let you live?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she assured him. “You can know who you really are. I-I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Logan’s face clouded with a look of unimaginable sadness. “You took away everything I could have ever wanted.”

A choked sound escaped Lilandra’s throat. “She fulfilled a divine purpose! Her death was momentous and beautiful. You must see that!”

“No. I don’t.” He dug deeper.

Tears formed in her eyes, the first real crack in the Shi’ar Majestrix’s armor. She didn’t understand how this could be happening. Why wasn’t the Phoenix aiding her. She was her devoted disciple. Why? “You’re hurting me,” she whispered.

Wolverine’s head tilted appraisingly. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“Please. Please, don’t kill me.”

Logan’s face twisted. “Did she beg for her life?”

Lilandra cried out again.

“Answer me!” He yelled. “Did Ororo beg for her life?”

“No.” It wasn’t Lilandra that answered. “Only for yours.”

Not removing his eyes from the woman whimpering in fear and pain at his hand, Logan barked a quick, “Fury.”

Nick Fury approached slowly, guardedly. He had seen Wolverine in berserker mode before and had no intentions of engaging him if it could be avoided. “Look, Logan, I know how you must be feeling--”

“Don’t.” Wolverine’s head snapped up, his eyes beyond maniacal. “You have no idea how I am fuckin’ feelin’.”

Fury nodded slowly. “You’re right, I don’t. Listen, Wolverine, I need you to let Ms. Neramani live.” Fury kept his voice at an even keel.

Wolverine didn’t respond.

“Just back away slowly.” Fury continued.

“One more step, Nicky, and I’ll gut ya.”

Nick stopped.

“Did you know?” Logan asked quietly.

“Did I know…?” Fury repeated.

“What they were going to do to her? That Sabertooth wasn’t mine? Any of it. Did you know?” Each word was measured and weighted. “How much were you in on, Nick? What was her life worth to you?”

“Wolverine.” Fury straightened, prepared to deny and defend, but all that came out was, “I followed my orders.”

“Hnh. The old fall back response.” He jerked his chin towards Lilandra. “Her orders?”

“No.”

Logan studied Lilandra’s pale, sweat dampened face. “Deep pockets,” he muttered. Then, to Fury, “Look away. I know how you hate the sight of intestines.”

“No! Have mercy!” Lilandra screamed.

Logan didn’t. Any clemency he may have had was taken the way of his heart. Mercy was no longer a part of him. It, along with all the good in him, had died with Ororo. With a deft flick of his wrist he sliced up and across, splitting the Shi’ar Majestrix wide open.

“Jesus.” Fury swore.

Wolverine rose to his feet, blood dripping like black syrup from his claws. “We’ve been through a lot, Nick. Too much to recount favors and tabs, but you owe me. You owe me for what you’ve done.”

Nick didn’t deny it. He nodded. “What do you want, Logan?”

“Have the men I hear heading this way help the X-Men get home.”

“What do you plan to do?” Fury asked. He tilted his head back, regarding the Phoenix. “You’re no match for that thing.”

Logan’s lips lifted in a feral and cocky smile. “We’ll see.”

Nick understood. “This is goodbye then.”

“Yup.”

“For what it’s worth-”

“Yer sorry. I know.” Logan waved a hand. “Keep it. I got no use for it.” With that he resumed his steadfast approach to the flaming creature overhead.


***

Few people were as close to each other as Alison Blaire and Ororo Munroe had been. Ali used to joke that they’d be the two old crones sharing a house with umpteen million cats that everyone talked about but no one dared visit. It never occurred to her that either of them wouldn’t get to see their grand old ages. Her scream of denial when she saw Ororo’s body was heartbreaking.

“Easy,” Kurt’s strong arms enfolded her, but Ali thrashed, breaking his hold. She fell to her knees beside Storm. “Wake up!” She snapped. “Stormy, wake the fuck up!” She grabbed Ororo‘s shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. “Wolverine’s losing his damn mind, and you’re scaring the shit out of me! Wake up!” The last was a shout of pure desperation.

“Alison.” Jean laid a gentle hand on Ali’s bent shoulder.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me!” Ali staggered to her feet, backing away.

“Liebling,” Kurt tried again.

Ali shook her head, holding up a hand to ward off his approach. “No.” She didn’t want comfort. She wanted the pain. She wanted to inflict pain, but she was afraid of hurting Kurt. He was not who she wanted to hurt.

He nodded. Though nowhere near telepath, Kurt could read her like an open book and knew she was not refusing him outright, but was in no mood for solace now. Later, later she would be; and he would be there. Slowly, he removed his jacket, placing it carefully and lovingly over Ororo’s shoulders and face.

As if that one action made the entire thing suddenly too real, all of the X-Men sagged. Cyclops was the first to recover. “There’ll be time to grieve later. Right now we need to formulate a plan on how to approach the Phoenix.”

“Is that thing responsible for this?” Ali demanded, pointing towards the Phoenix.
Tears coursed her pale cheeks. Jean looked like she wanted to speak, but was at a loss for words.

Ali, frustrated by the lack of people to take her hurt and anger out on let her aqua eyes roam the destruction until they spotted a lone figure trekking with grim determination towards the Phoenix, wrecking people along his way. “Wolverine’s got the right idea.” She started forward.

*Alison, no.*

It was Xavier.

*You must leave the area, X-Men. There are ground troops and aerial forces incoming. They are planning to bomb the compound.*

“They’re attacking?” Kitty asked. She stood against Peter, her face a blotchy mess. She couldn’t look at her fallen friend. She hated that she couldn’t, but she couldn’t. It hurt too much.

“Why attack without provocation?” That was Cyclops. He momentary looked back at the now silent Phoenix. “We know nothing about it. Maybe it will leave. Maybe it’s harmless. It is not responsible for what fanatics did in it’s name. That’s like blaming God for the Spanish Inquisition.”

“It’s not harmless.” Jean stated with flat certainty. Her eyes flashed flame. “She’s waiting.”

“Waiting?” Kurt repeated. “For what?”

Jean’s mouth parted on a wordless gasp. She turned quickly towards the pink tinged sky in the East. “Sunrise!” she exclaimed. “It’s waiting for sunrise!”

“Why?” Bobby questioned. “It’s scared of the dark?”

Rogue punched him in the arm. Hard.

“No.” Jean answered absently, her brow furrowed in concentration. “The Phoenix…needs food. She feeds on stars, she is energized by them.”

Cyclops caught on first. “And being trapped in the Earth for a few billion years…”

“Has made her weak. She needs the UV rays of the sun to fuel herself.” Jean finished. She turned towards them all. “If we’re ever going to stand a chance against her, then we need to strike now.”

“Jean--” Scott began.

“Listen to me,” she implored. “Once she has enough energy, she’ll fly into the sun and devour it. Every life on this planet will be destroyed, Scott. We can’t let that happen.”

“How in the heck can you possibly know all that?” Kitty wanted to know.

Jean met her eyes. “I just know.”

“Ok.” Cyclops acknowledged. “Marvel Girl, let the Professor know what we’re doing. We’ll have to stop whoever is coming from bombing the hell out of us as well as the Phoenix.”

*Professor.*

*Jean.*

Jean filled him in on their semi-concocted plan.

*Are you certain that there is no other way?*

*Absolutely.*

*Very well. I will see what I can do about getting through to the president and halting the incoming forces.*

*Good luck.*

*You as well.*

“Set?” Cyclops asked when Jean opened her eyes.

“Yeah. The Professor’s going to try and buy us some time.”

“Alright, then. We split up and go at it from all sides, run pattern Gamma Zulu 1.”

Peter shook his head. “We can’t.” When they looked at him, he said sadly, “No, Storm.”

Ali stifled a cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck it all.”

“I’ll take up aerial,” Angel offered, his chin lifted.

Cyclops nodded. “We hit hard, and we hit fast. There’s no room for error on this.”

***

Wolverine stared up at the fiery God known as Phoenix with unblinking eyes. It seemed completely unaware of him, but too familiar with the ways of predators, Logan knew that looks could be deceiving.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Hey!”

Nothing.

“Piece of shit, bird! I’m talkin’ to you!” He waved his arms.

**BAMF**

“Mind if we join you?” Alison asked, though she didn’t give a fuck if he told them to take a flying leap. She stepped next to Wolverine, her eyes as determined as his.

He said nothing by way of greeting, but he stepped a bit to his left, making room for her.

“Cyclops, Rogue and Marvel Girl are moving into position as are Shadowcat and Colossus. Iceman and Warren are coming in from above,” Kurt informed him.

Logan nodded. “What’s the plan?”

Ali cracked her knuckles. “Hit fast, hit hard.”

As she spoke a stream of liquid ice struck the glowing Phoenix full force. Phoenix let out a screech of anger, shaking the crumbling compound further and knocking bricks free.

“The louder you scream, the harder I hit!” Alison unleashed a beam of concentrated laser light the likes of which she had never done before and would likely never be able to repeat. Using the Phoenix’s own shrill cry to amplify her power Alison focused the light energy into a powerful strike that knocked the massive firebird backwards through the air, smashing trees.

Wolverine was on the move immediately, his body crouched low to the ground, moving fast. The Phoenix was faster. With a shriek of rage the cosmic force spread her wings, igniting everything around her. Streamers of yellow flame launched from the Phoenix, shooting high into the air before plummeting to the ground with the force of small meteors. It was like watching a bunch of shooting stars streak the sky.

Wolverine was thrown through the air as one of the flaming streamers smashed into the ground beside him. He rolled, wincing in pain. His right side was charred, but healing.

“Eyes up!” he warned.

Colossus took a fireball directly to the chest, sending the massive mutant sprawling across the ground, digging up chucks as he bounced.

“Peter!” Kitty raced after him, her phasing power keeping her immune to the raining fire.

A blast of scorching wind struck the X-Men in the faces, sucking the oxygen from their lungs as the Phoenix flapped her mammoth wings, lifting herself from the burning trees. Another earsplitting screech filled the air, and Ali set free another beam of concentrated light, this time aiming for the great bird’s head.

Glowing yellow eyes swung towards her and the Phoenix opened it’s flame covered beak. “Sievieete moto muwavae!”

“Alison!” Jean screamed, running full tilt across the distance separating her and her team mate.

One large talon covered foot reached for Ali, it’s long claws spitting flame onto the ground.

“No!” Jean sent her own stream of telekinetic fire in the shape of a talon towards Ali, shielding her from the Phoenix’s attack.

The Phoenix squawked and swirled, it’s body literally reshaping itself so that it faced Jean. “You,” it spoke. “The fragment.”

Jean skid to a halt, her heart tripling in rhythm.

The Phoenix swirled again, this time the flames took on an exact likeness of Jean. “Who are you?”

Jean, unable to control her own tongue stated, “I am Creation’s daughter. Fractured splinter of Life.” She turned on her fellow X-Men, binding Alison’s hands with her telekinesis and preventing Kurt from teleporting by blocking his mutation from his conscious mind. She turned towards Bobby, doing the same and instantly the sheen of ice covering his body melted and he was forced to the ground as his ice slide collapsed.
Energy pulsed from Jean’s body, knocking the X-Men to the ground.

“Jean, no!” Scott cried out, reaching for her as she stepped closer to the Phoenix.

The Phoenix blazed brighter the closer Jean got to it.

“Jeannie!” Logan staggered to his feet.

They were all too far away to reach her. With the next heartbeat Jean was absorbed into the Phoenix, the flame version of herself merging with her physical being. Laughter burst from her lips as she touched her own face and arms. She spun in a circle, almost childlike. Sunlight spread across the ground, a warning to the others that their time was falling hopelessly short.

“Give her back!” Scott demanded.

Phoenix smiled. “No. I like this body. So many new sensations.” She lifted Scott with a thought, studying him. “Desire.” she whispered. “Oh, I like that one. I’ll keep you, but not the rest.”

Flames shot up and out, expanding like a blanket in the sky. All eyes lifted skyward in fear. When the blanket of flame descended they would be incinerated.

Ali clung to Kurt. He kissed her head, murmuring a soft prayer.

Kitty reached for as many people as she could, hoping against hope that she could phase them all.

Thunder echoed in the heavy air and torrential rain fell from a clear sky, quenching the flames with a loud series of sizzles and hisses.

Logan lifted his face towards the rain, closing his eyes. It made no sense, but he knew. Ororo.

The Phoenix, angered at the interruption the rain caused, lashed out with a blast of molten heat. The ground beneath the X-Men’s feet shifted and split. The bird visage appeared again, this time surrounding Jean.

“No!” Alison hollered, her attention on the small clearing in which Storm’s body lay.

Wolverine swung around, bellowing as Ororo’s body fell into a gap created by the Phoenix, molten liquid bubbling up and pulling her under.“Yeeeaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgh!” Heedless, he ran forward, lunging at the Jean morphed Phoenix.

“Wolverine!”

Logan was uncertain as to who called his name. He was too consumed with raw pain to care anyway. Flames licked his flesh, peeling it away from the tissue beneath. He was caught, mid leap in the heart of the Phoenix.

The Phoenix tilted her head, inquisitively. “I know you,” she said, her voice a muddled mix between Jean and the resonant Phoenix.

Logan grunted in pain. “Jeannie, it’s me.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It is not through this host that I know you. Motto vemme motto?”

Logan, with his blood charring black against sinew, whispered, “Soku.”

Phoenix screamed. Jean grabbed her head and for a moment the two beings split. “Logan, kill us!”

“Stay,” Phoenix demanded of Jean. “You make me feel.”

Logan struggled, managing to move forward despite the flames and pain. “You wanna feel? Feel this!” He roared ion agony as his muscles burned away but he managed to grip Jean and pull her towards him, freeing her of the Phoenix.

“Logan!” Jean fell to the ground with a thud. Her eyes watered as she watched the Phoenix cocoon around him, scorching his skin, muscles, organs. He was being roasted alive.

“Aeir d‘eai, aeriate nemieweih! Sliviette! N’yuni moto, mvua, mvua. Caedo liefhe.”

Wolverine felt like his insides were being boiled and liquefied, but he smiled. A smile of such utter peace and contentment that it befuddled the Phoenix, pausing her actions. She regarded him seriously, intent on discovering the source of his pleasure amidst the onslaught of pain she was dealing him.

Logan blinked, but made no other motion.

“What is it you smile about?””

Logan growled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Explain.”.”

Logan couldn’t. He couldn’t put into words what his heart was crying out for. Instead, he pictured Ororo, with her hair slightly mussed from their lovemaking, smiling at him and laughing in her smoky, smooth voice.

The Phoenix, a creature borne of creation, infinite and undeniable had never felt such intensity as was emanating from the man in her fiery grasp.

“You want her.”

“More than anything.” He answered honestly.

“She is gone.”

“I know.”

“You are not.”

“Yes. I am.” He argued, but there was no anger in his voice anymore. “Without her, I…” He stopped, his throat closing. “There’s nothing without her,” he finished finally.

Phoenix seemed puzzled by this. Unbidden, she reached into Logan’s mind, pulling everything from him. All of his memories, all of his emotions. Everything. Faced with such grief and agony the Phoenix was at a loss. In all of its existence nothing compared to that feeling. That sense of loss. Of nothing.

Then came the love. Staggering and endless it flooded the Phoenix. She gasped in awe, her glowing yellow eyes winking with the infinite possibilities of the universe. She took it all, soaking it in, her red and orange flames flickering until they burned white.
“Soku.”

Logan, feeling his body giving up, smiled once more.

“You are nearly gone.”

“I know.”

“She is waiting.”

Logan closed his eyes. “I know.”

For the first time in her existence, the Phoenix felt regret, and remorse. She spread her wings, a mournful cry radiating from her in waves of power, shaking the ground, literally tearing the fabric of the universe.

As he faded, Logan swore he heard the sound of a freight train headed his way.

***

An earsplitting scream roused a semi-conscious Wolverine from his stupor. Over the dull roar of blood in his head, he thought he heard the sound of a freight train and he blinked groggily. A freight train? In the jungle?

Hurricane force winds were suddenly howling around him. Surprisingly, just as quickly as it had begun the winds ceased and the night was still once again, save for the patter of rain against heavy leaves and the distant rumble of thunder as the unexpected storm tapered off.

Wolverine lay still on the wet ground, his mind a foggy blanket of hazy pain. Rain washed into his mouth choking him. He tried to sit up, tried to focus. Had someone really screamed his name? He closed his eyes, hearing a voice that reminded him of smoky bars and black satin sheets. What was happening? He shook himself. Everything was a fog.

Forcefully he opened his eyes, the harsh reality of his situation returning. He was laying in muddy goop, his body battered and beaten beyond recognition, his healing factor getting the workout of his life, and he was alone in the Amazon jungle. The only building for hundreds of miles was the fucking torture palace he’d just escaped from. Waves of weariness crashed over him. Why did this all seem so familiar?

Wolverine grunted again as he levered himself up on one elbow to peer through the rain and he froze. A few feet away from him in the mud sat Ororo Munroe, her head was bent forward and her long tresses were hanging in sodden ropes over her face as she heaved in labored breaths, seemingly oblivious to the rain. And to him.

Ororo stared dazedly at the ground. By all accounts she should be dead. She had been too exhausted to call on her weather powers to slow her descent from the sheer cliff face. She should be, at the very least, a pile of broken limbs on the ground. But, she wasn’t, instead she was seated quite unharmed, on her knees with the winds washing over her.

Wolverine cleared his throat pointedly. Ororo lifted her head and faced him. Their gazes locked. Her eyes immediately narrowed. His immediately widened.

Everything came flooding back to him in a rush that could only be described as all consuming. He opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He stared in marvel at the drenched, bedraggled woman in front of him.

Ororo pushed her tangled hair from her face and crawled over to where Wolverine lay. “How bad are you hurt?” she asked with sharp practicality.

“I’ll survive,” he growled. He couldn’t explain it. Didn’t care to. Whatever had happened, Ororo was looking at him, alive, warm and solid. He cupped her face in his broad hands, pulling her towards him. He felt her surprise, but didn’t care. His lips moved over hers hungrily, tasting the rain and the sweet, familiar flavor that was only Ororo’s.

She jerked back and slapped him. “What the hell, Wolverine?” she demanded.

Logan laughed, grabbing her again and falling back so that she toppled across his chest. Her sopping wet hair slapped his face, making her smirk.

God, he loved that smirk.

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” he whispered harshly, his eyes searing hers.

Ororo blinked, clearly baffled. “Hey, you left us, jack ass. Remember? Right after you dumped Cyclops off a cliff?”

Logan shrugged. “He’s over it.“

Ororo tried to push herself off of him, but he was having none of it.

With unexpected, and inexplicable tenderness Logan traced the contours of her muddied face, his fingertip trailing the flawless line of her jaw. He gave a small, choked sound that sounded curiously like a sob to Ororo.

“I need to kiss you again.” He warned gently.

Dazed, all Ororo could do was nod.

Logan brushed against her lightly, tenderly, with each pass slightly deepening the pressure, melding his mouth to hers as if it was always meant to be there.

Ororo sighed, accepting what felt so natural and right, opening her lips under his. Wolverine cupped her chin, his thumb tugging her lips apart further, smothering her small moan with the swift invasion of his tongue. His hand tightened reflexively on her jaw as pleasure washed through him, more excruciating than all the pain he had just endured. His tongue swept across her teeth and deeper still, tasting her, and being sure to drink his fill. He kissed her until he couldn’t say where one kiss ended and another began.

With a growl he ran one hand over her torso, then around to her back, molding her to him, cradling her. His fingers sank into the thick richness of her hair and he made another sound that Ororo couldn’t quite place.

She pulled back slightly, studying his face. Fathomless black orbs glittered at her.

“I love you,” he whispered with aching sincerity.

“What?” She couldn’t have heard that right.

Logan stifled the urge to repeat the words again. Obviously she didn’t remember everything he did. He’s have to give her time. But that was alright. He’d give her time, but not space. No way was he letting her go. And he’d get it right this time, he vowed internally.

Ororo frowned then.

“What?” he murmured, kissing her chin because he couldn’t not kiss her.

“I feel funny,” she said softly.

He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, the motion rubbing her chest against his in an all too distracting way. “Content,” she said quietly. Almost to herself she continued, “I’ve always felt restless. Like something was never settled inside.” She paused, wondering what had made her reveal so much to Wolverine.

“Hnh.” Logan couldn’t help but smile. “Feeling settled now?”

All except the flutter of butterflies he set off in her stomach, she thought. Realizing she was still sprawled across his chest like a wanton, she scrambled backwards. “We should get moving,” she said.

“Sure.” He allowed. “There’s a cave a bit away from here. We can take up shelter there until the others come.”

Ororo cocked her head, curiosity making her ask, “How do you know I’m not alone?”

“You’re not,” he answered. Then reaching out for her again as he rose to his feet, he whispered against her lips. “And you never will be again.”

***

The months passed quickly for the X-Men.

The new Danger Room was built in record time with Logan helping Ororo with the plans and construction. In fact he helped her with a lot of things, making no secret his intention to make her his.

He found an ally in that quest, in Jean, who he suspected remembered nearly as much as he did from what he had come to call the ”Before Phoenix” period. She was only to eager to help him rearrange the Danger Room schedule so that he and Storm were in together, thoughtfully reminding him of Ororo’s favorite flowers and such. It was also Jean that quickly and efficiently shot down Xavier’s idea to send Logan and Storm to Canada to recruit Sabertooth.

Shortly after his return to the X-Men, Logan resigned from SHIELD black ops. Fury had been confused, but accepting of the resignation. Logan asked him about a woman named Lilandra Neramani, and was satisfied to find out that her church had inexplicably been torched, as with all of it’s followers. Some in their own homes, with no damage to anything but their bodies.

Alison and Ororo were as troublesome and mischievous as they ever were, yet they too seemed closer. Logan caught Ali standing in Ororo’s room one night, simply watching her friend sleep. When he raised a questioning eyebrow as he passed in the hall she had simply said. “I needed to see her.”

Logan had understood entirely. He had patted her shoulder and continued to his room, recently moved to be the adjoining room to Ororo’s.

As it was he had been struggling to stay out of Ororo’s room himself, although he was certain he wanted to be in there for entirely different reasons.

It was a cold winter morning in mid January that Logan woke to find Ororo in his room, her eyes alight with tender longing, tears on her sable cheeks. He had sat up immediately, his heart pounding heavily.

“What is it? What‘s wrong?” He asked, prepared to slay whatever demon haunted her.

“I don’t know.” She whispered honestly. “I just need to be with you.”

He scooted to the side of his bed, making room.

Ororo had climbed in that morning and snuggled up to him. They never said a word, just laid in bed until well past noon. She never returned to her room after that.

Eight months after his jungle rescue Logan proposed to Ororo.

Fourteen months after that they welcomed their son into the world. Henry was a loudmouthed, brawler from the get go.

A cool October evening brought about the news of Alison’s and Kurt’s engagement and Jean’s pregnancy.

Life, despite the most insurmountable odds, flourished at Xavier’s Institute for the Gifted.