In the chill of the night
I can feel my heart racing
As I run towards the light
that seems so far away
Wondering forever
In the darkest of shadows
Wondering if I will ever see you again ~”Walking Dead”


From his position in the shadows by her door he watched her tossing crumpled clothing into a black bag with jerky, angry movements. The amber light of her bedside lamp cast her features in craggy shadows. Her mouth was compressed into a thin line and her brows were cut in deep furrows, but beneath her pissed off exterior she was fighting against sadness--they all were.

It was well past midnight, and apparently she was finding sleep as elusive as he was. He wasn’t altogether surprised to find her still awake, had in fact, counted on it. Of all the people he was going to miss from Xavier’s chances were it’d be her absence that would bother him most. Logan cleared his throat, crossing the threshold. “Hey.”

Ororo looked up from her packing. She cast his clothing and duffle a perfunctory glance. “Ready to go, I see.”

He nodded once, jostling the duffle as he spoke. “I pack light. I’m used to moving quick.”

“Yeah…” she tossed the jeans in her hand onto the bed with a deflated flop. She stared down at the bare mattress. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

Logan, still troubled from the team’s recent run in with the futuristic man calling himself Cable, also felt a sense of surrealism about the entire situation. A manufactured, genetic clone of himself was directly responsible for the death of Charles Xavier and the resulting disbandment of the X-Men. It was not an easy pill for him to swallow.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his own eyes resting on the floor for a moment. “Without Chuck, there ain’t much sense in keeping the school open.”

Ororo snorted disdainfully. She had been one of the more vocal protestors of Scott’s decision to break up the X-Men and send them all on their merry ways. “Of course there is a reason to keep this place open. If not as a school, at the very least as a refuge for other mutants.”

Logan gave her a look but wisely chose to refrain from comment. The silence stretched between them, uncomfortable with the weight of things left unsaid. Without immediate words on the tip of his tongue, Logan shifted his bulky weight, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Well, I guess this is so long.”

Ororo nodded, her face averted. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, the forlorn note in her voice beating against the barrier Logan had carefully erected around himself after years of trauma and violence.

Well, shit. He settled his bag on the floor and crossed the room. Without a word he pulled her into his arms, hugging her against him.

Ororo wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you do, don’t cry,” he told her gruffly. “I hate it when a woman cries.”

Ororo laughed softly, doing her level best to keep her tears in check. “You always try and act like such a tough guy.”

“That’s because I am a tough guy. You’re the only one that doesn’t seem to think so.”

“You’re a teddy bear,” she countered.

“Take that back.”

“A big, soft, plushy--”

“I’m warning you.”

“Teddy bear.”

Logan leaned back, looking at her. “Ya think so, do ya?”

Something flickered in her chocolate eyes. “Something like that.”

He framed her face with his hands, his lips a breath away from hers. He shouldn’t, he knew. They had only ever shared one kiss before and that one still haunted him, clinging to his memory like a seductive vine.

Ororo took the decision out of his hands; leaning forward she closed the distance between them. Her lips were as soft and welcoming as he remembered. What should have been a chaste goodbye kiss deepened, lingered, took on the hint of passion that always lay between them. Logan took a deep breath, laying his brow against hers. “I should go.”

She remained silent, her fingers working the fabric covering his arms reflexively.

“Tell me to go,” he urged her.

“What if…what if I don’t want you to go…”

Her breath feathered his damp lips, causing him to lean forward once more. His hands tunneled into her short hair, enjoying the cool softness of it. “I always knew you would be trouble.”

“You’re calling me trouble?” Ororo cocked a brow. His slight quirk of lips caused her to trace his weathered features, her fingers lingering over his lips. He nipped at her, his eyes darkening to obsidian. Her breath caught in her throat. He had never looked at her like he was looking at her now, and it was a look she could easily drown in.

Logan pushed her gently back onto the bed, following her down to kneel over her. Within moments he had divested them of their clothing, soft sighs and the rustle of fabric the only sounds in the dimly lit room. His big hands massaged her claves, moved up her smooth legs slowly. Logan leaned forward to press soft, damp kisses to her ribs, the undersides of her breasts, and to their taut peaks. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her silky skin on his tongue. He knew that this night was goodbye, that this was all he had to give her--all he had to take with him and he intended to make it memorable.

Ororo melted. There was no other word to describe the languid way her body molded to Logan’s or the heat swirling through her. She reached up, her fingers following the thick cords of his muscles, hoping to memorize every inch of him.

With her curvaceous body laid out before him like an open banquet Logan took his time, sampling all of the delectable treats her luscious form had to offer. He suckled her breasts, teasing and biting, purposefully painful and deliberately pleasurable. He relished every gasp, every soft sigh that escaped her, every restless movement of her body against his.

Ororo basked in Logan’s tender attentions, nearly unbelieving at how gentle and patient he was with her. She gripped his arms tighter as he made his way down the length of her body. She could feel her passion rising, spiraling, building…

Logan caressed her slick skin, dipping his fingers, pushing her, teasing her, making her moan. He wanted more. He wanted to hear his name from her lips on a broken crescendo as he took her to places she had never been. He bent his head, swirling his tongue. He caressed, stroked and cajoled her with his lips. He was rewarded by her sob of pleasure and her hip rising off of the mattress as her stomach contracted.

Logan took a firm grip on her backside, holding her to him, drinking his fill. Her hips thrashed and bucked under his expert skill, sending the blood pulsing to his brain, creating a hazy film over his eyes. He knelt between her legs, his eyes glittering with raw need and more than a hint of possession. He pushed himself into her slowly, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensation. There was no turning back now, he knew, but still he paused, searching her face for any signs of regret. Finding none, he began to move. Slowly, achingly slowly, he rocked into her.

She surrounded him, her body tight, pulling him deep, and all the while she gazed up at him with her dark chocolate eyes. He shifted his angle, ensuring the most pleasure for her and he saw those deep eyes widen. He wanted to hold this moment forever, but knew it was a foolish wish. Watching her face he increased his tempo, felt her body clench. She gave a soft cry, a bastardized version of his name as she found release. Logan pulled her close, following her over the edge into bliss, clinging for as long as he could to that blinding moment.




Logan sat fully clothed on the edge of the bed, watching her rest. She really was very young, he thought. Not a single imperfection on her face. A face that was at once seductive and innocent. He truly would miss her, but he knew in his heart of hearts he was not the man for her. She at one time had foolishly thought so, but he had told her that he didn’t share her feelings. It had been a lie, and they both knew it, but she had granted him reprieve, settling back into the role of his friend, never pushing the issue.

Selfishly he wanted to let her love him. After all, she saw him as the type of man he wanted to be, a man with honor, with worth--but that wasn’t who he was. He had killed hundreds, maybe even thousands, without a shred of remorse. Demons from his past sat n his shoulder and hunted him every day--every second of every day--and that was no life for any woman.

Even as he thought it, he knew that when he walked away no one would get to him like she had. He leaned close to her, kissed her forehead. “You’re better off without me, darlin’.”

Ororo’s eyes fluttered, opening slowly. She regarded him openly, not shying away from his dark gaze. She sat up slowly, mussing her silky hair with one hand. “Have I been asleep long?”

“Not long.” He stood. “Time for me to hit the road.”

Ororo nodded, trying to smile past the ache in her heart. “How will we find one another?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “We don’t. This can’t go anywhere. You knew that goin’ in.”

“But I thought--”

“Thought what? That one tumble would change everything? You know the life I’m goin’ back to, ‘Ro. You’d be a liability. I don’t want that hassle and you don’t deserve it.”

Ororo bit back her tears. “Yeah.” She searched his face, apparently not finding what she was looking for she offered him her hand. “Good luck with your life, Logan.”

He didn’t take her outstretched hand, knew if he touched her he wouldn’t let go. He nodded his head once and turned away, nearly running for the door. He never looked back.

Ororo watched him ride away from her bedroom window. Numbly she showered, dressed and then sat on her bed, holding the signature “X” badge from her uniform, twirling it between her fingers without purpose.

She stayed in the spot she and Logan had shared, thinking, until Scott knocked on the door.

“Your taxi is here, Ororo.”

She stood up, set the badge on the bare nightstand and walked out the door. She had a life to live and wasting her time contemplating what could have been was not her thing. She truly wished Logan nothing but the best of luck in his life, and she would go on with hers with no regrets.

Five Months Later…

Sitting in the middle of an enemy base camp, surrounded by pissed off men with weapons was enough to make most people soil their britches. Severely outgunned and outmanned, with certain death looming should have been quite sobering-- the situation made the Wolverine grin. That should have been warning enough for the poor grunts holding the dark haired man in their line of fire, but none heeded it.

With his enhanced senses Logan could smell the sweat, anxiety, and anticipation rolling off the soldiers around him. There were at least twenty men surrounding him and more hidden in the shadows, patrolling the camp. They wanted to kill him, he knew, but they couldn’t--at least not yet--not without knowing who he worked for and if he was alone.

He had heard a series of barked commands, most likely to get whoever was leader of this little cell of vigilantes to come see their prisoner. That was just fine with Logan. Let them give him time to catch his breath after the forty mile trek through the Congo he’d taken.

Logan eased himself back, allowing his haunches to bear most of his weight as he surveyed his surroundings. His mind worked quickly, rapid fire fast, and with icy precision. He had a route of escape mapped out in his head between one breath and the next. He tilted his head, watching as two men tramped towards him and felt the familiar surge of adrenaline course through him, coiling his body, tightening his muscles.

One foolish grunt strode forward, prodding him with the tip of his rifle. Logan turned towards the man with a baring of teeth. The other man must have seen his own death in Logan’s eyes because he quickly backed away, fear coming off of him in waves. He was a fraction of a second too slow. Logan moved like a blur, grabbing the man, snapping his neck and using his dead body as a makeshift shield. Backpedaling towards the thick jungle foliage, using the dead soldier’s rifle to take out as many others as he could, Logan calculated how long he had before the patrolling soldiers came rushing into the fray.

Once sheltered by the dark canopy the leaves provided Logan dropped the body, rushing counter clockwise of the camp, using his superior eyesight, hearing and sense of smell to mentally log each of his enemies locations. Shouts and bullets echoed in the night, several coming close to striking their mark. Logan flinched as bark exploded from the tree he was crouched beside and embedded itself in his cheek and eye.

Logan lowered himself to his stomach, slinging the stolen rifle across his back as he serpent crawled closer to the camp again. He knew the soldiers were expecting him to run away, not come back at them, and that would be their fatal mistake. Logan moved fast across the ground, rising to his feet swiftly, breaking into a dead run as he rushed the camp.

With trained skill he took out the nearest men without wasting bullets, then grabbed their dropped weapons. He shoved two grenades into his deep pants pockets and a serrated blade into his belt loop. He weaved between tents, his eyes scanning for the silver briefcase he had been sent to retrieve. Soldiers were filing back out of the jungle, running towards the encampment realizing that he had doubled back.

The first small group of men came into sight and Logan lobbed one of his two grenades at them. The blast was loud in the night, sending nearby birds into the sky and monkeys screaming. Logan ignored the commotion, searching for his intended target.

He tore tent flaps back, peering into each as fast as he could. Damn it. Where was it? There! Sitting atop a desk in one of the larger tents. He quickly snapped the top open. A top secret classified satellite control box. Mission accomplished. Logan slammed the lid shut, tucked the case under his arm and left the tent.

Another round of soldiers, a burst of gunfire, a bullet tearing through his thigh. Logan grit his teeth, swung around, tossed the other grenade and headed for the jungle again. Once in the dark forest again he tore his shirt, wrapped the material around his upper thigh to help staunch the bleeding. His healing factor would take care of the injury in a matter of moments, but he didn’t feel like leaving a trail of blood for wild animals to follow.

Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out his mini radio. “Target acquired.”

“Acknowledged. Clean up crew in bound. ETA two minutes.”

Logan tossed the radio on the ground, stomping on the small electronic device. Less than a full two minutes later he heard the scream of two jets and the deafening explosion of the encampment being blown apart. Wiping the sweat from his brow he surged into the denser regions of the jungle, making his way as fast as he could. He had less then one day to reach his rendezvous point and collect his one million dollar commission and he’d be damned if he went through all of that for nothing.

In the past five months he had taken several jobs, building up a healthy nest egg for himself. But money wasn’t the real issue. He was restless. He needed something to take the edge off and he had hoped to work himself into exhaustion, but no matter what he did, the disquiet was there. He wondered if it would ever go away--or drive him insane.

Shaking off his troubling thoughts he decided what he really needed was a stiff drink and a good fuck. Everything else could wait.



Elsewhere…

Ororo stared out the waiting room window into the pouring rain. She sighed softly, her fingertips touching the cool glass, tracing the lines left by the falling droplets. She loved the rain. There was something cleansing and pure about it. It washed away what was old and brought life to what was new. It was perhaps, one of the most miraculous things a person could witness.

“Ms. Munroe?”

Ororo reluctantly turned from the rain, glancing over at the portly woman leaning towards her. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I asked, did you have any questions before your next appointment?” the woman repeated patiently.

Ororo shook her head, flashing a grateful smile. “No. I think I’m all set.”

The nurse nodded, jotting the next appointment date and time onto a small business card. “Well then, we will see you in four weeks.” She handed the appointment card to Ororo. “But feel free to call if anything comes up.”

“Thanks.” Ororo pocketed the card and picked up her jacket from the chair it lay across. She waved to the receptionist, Janet, on her way out of the clinic and made her way out into the rain, not bothering with an umbrella.

“It’s a wonder that girl doesn’t catch pneumonia,” Janet commented, clucking her tongue.

The nurse, privy to Ororo’s charts, simply chuckled. “Not likely,” she murmured walking down the hall. “Not likely at all.”



“So how’d it go?” Was the first thing Becca Montgomery asked when Ororo strode through the library doors. The aged brick building sat in the center of the small town of West Bitterroot, Montana; population less than 800, and it was there that Ororo had found herself a job and a quiet niche in the small community.

Shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the rack, Ororo beamed. “Everything looks great.”

The other woman grinned, her hands making ‘gimme’ gestures. “Did you get pictures?”

“Yes, I got pictures.” For all of thirty seconds Ororo pretended to be put off by having to dig the scans from her purse, but the second she did her heart somersaulted in her chest and her face split into a wide grin. “See?” She held out the black and white images, her hands trembling in her excitement.

“Oh, my God.” Becca breathed, examining the pictures. “It’s like a tiny little person…”

Ororo laughed, nudging her friend with her elbow. “It is a tiny little person.”

Becca rolled her eyes. “I know that, but I mean…this is in you.” She gave Ororo’s gently curved belly a pointed look.

“I know.” Ororo breathed placing one hand on her abdomen. Her mind was still not completely wrapped around the fact that she was going to be a mother; that a tiny life was developing inside of her.

Becca’s look turned appraising. “You know, you’re still not very big. Well aside from your jumbo boobs.”

“Doctor Langston said everything looked great. I’m gaining just fine, thank you.”

“Did he even look at your stomach or was he distracted by your other maternal endowments?”

“Will you cut it out with the boob envy.”

Becca laughed. “I can’t tell… boy or girl?”

Ororo made a face. “Little thing was too stubborn to show us.” Just like Daddy, she thought but kept her mouth closed. As far as the residents of West Bitterroot knew Ororo’s significant other was in the military-- away. Not an all out lie, and one she could live with. She had conveniently left out little details like that she had no way to get a hold of him, suspected that even if she did he would be furious and not want the baby. If she was a liability to his way of life, what on earth would he think of a child?

She shook herself, clearing away those unwelcome thoughts. Whatever he thought was irrelevant. She wanted this child and if that meant raising it by herself, then that’s what it meant.

Becca handed her the ultrasound scans back. “Must be a boy then. Males are definitely the less cooperative sex.”

She tucked the pictures back into her purse carefully. “Probably true. I’m going to go downstairs and get my lunch from the fridge. Would you like a water?”

Becca nodded. “Sure. We’ve been really dead in here today.” She took a quick look towards the windows. “I don’t imagine many people want to get out in the rain.”

“Yes, because we’re a hotspot of activity without the rain.” Ororo rolled her eyes with a chuckle. Truthfully the two of them were lucky to see ten people in a day. They had a few weekly regulars that came in for the papers and a good book, but otherwise it was a very quiet, uneventful place to work.

Poking her tongue out Becca began stacking the small amount of returns left in the overnight drop. “While your downstairs could you grab some extra trash bags?”

“Sure.” The downstairs of the library was dimly lit with piles of old books, periodicals and other miscellaneous odds and ends running the length of the hall and around the small break room. Ororo had always enjoyed reading and writing even more so. The smell of genuine leather books was something she had come to enjoy immensely.

Ororo grabbed her fruit salad and turkey sandwich, extra trash bags and two waters. She glanced at the labels and cringed. Strawberry-kiwi water? “Hey, Becca, what’s up with the flavored waters?” Ororo bump the stairwell door closed with her elbow. “Becca?” The front desk was empty. “Becca? I swear if you jump out from behind the bookcases and try to scare me I may be forced to take drastic action.” Nothing.

Suddenly very uneasy Ororo set her parcels onto a small round table and cautiously made her way to the front desk. She peered over the counter top, her mouth parting in a cry of alarm. “Becca!” Her friend lay crumpled on the floor, face up, eyes open, a small round hole directly between her eyes. There was no use checking for a pulse, the black pool of blood beneath Becca’s chestnut curls told Ororo the bullet had torn clean through.

A book thudded to the floor.

Ororo spun around, her eyes wide as she searched the rows for any movement. Whoever had shot Becca was still in the library. “You obviously don’t have a clue who you’ve just pissed off,” she ground out, tears in her voice.

“Oh, but we do, Ororo…or do you prefer Storm?”

The voice was rough in timbre and hard to locate. Mutant, most likely a chameleon of sorts. Ororo took several rapid breaths, trying to calm herself. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“That should be obvious.”

She tilted her head, trying to follow the sound of his voice. “Are you too much of a coward to show yourself to someone that can defend themselves?”

There was a ripple of movement to her left. She shot out her hand, a blast of wind knocking an entire row of book shelves against the wall with enough force to shatter the windows.

“Not a coward,” the voice continued. “But not stupid. Put your hands on the counter, palms down.”

She stayed as she was.

“Don’t make me say it again. Hands on the counter!” There was a hiss of sound--a weapon being readied. Ororo glanced over her shoulder. Twenty feet to the door… She couldn’t risk a fight. Not in her current condition. She ran.

Thunk! Ororo slammed out of the doors just as a long dart embedded itself into the wood frame. Tranquilizer. She didn’t waste time contemplating it, she just ran. Rain poured down on her, drenching her hair, soaking her clothes, making the pavement slick. As she slid towards her Honda Civic a huge man emerged from the library doors. Victor Creed. Ororo felt panic grip her. She knew it wasn’t his voice she had heard--that meant he wasn’t alone. How many were there?

She fumbled with the handle of her car door, her eyes never leaving the man lumbering towards her with a sadistic smile on his face. Weapon X had found her. That could only mean one thing--they knew she was pregnant. “Stay away from me, Creed!” she warned.

“You gonna zap me again, doll?” he snarled, his longer canines overlapping his bottom lip. “Why would you do something so foolish as that when I let you live last time? We just wanna talk to ya.”

Right, and monkeys were about to erupt from her ass. Ororo jumped into the car, swore violently when she realized her purse and keys were still in the library. A big hand slammed against the window making her look up. Creed stood beside her car, keys twirling around his index finger, whistling.

“Missin’ somethin’, princess? Now quit playing and get outta the car.” He shoved the door, rocking the vehicle violently.

Ororo reached beneath the dash and ripped the wires free. “Go to hell!” The engine roared to life. She jerked the shift, tires squealing. The last thing she heard was Creed swear as she ran over his foot as she sped off. She watched in the rearview for anyone to follow her, but no one seemed to be.

Her eyes welled with tears, making it impossible to see. She pulled over onto the shoulder of the two lane road. “Oh, God, Becca, I’m sorry.”

“If it’s any consolation, she didn’t suffer.”

Ororo screamed. From the backseat one hand covered her mouth as the other shoved a needle into her neck. She slumped forward, shoved to the side as the Weapon X soldier climbed into the driver’s seat. As her vision blurred one frantic internal scream pounded through her mind: Logan, I need you!

A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don't think I can look at this the same
But all the miles that separate
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
I'm here without you baby
But you're still on my lonely mind

Sitting in a dark hotel room nursing a bottle of whiskey was not at all how Logan had intended to spend his evening. In fact, he had hoped by now to be balls deep in a woman with no thought of anything but that blissful moment of release. Instead, all his traitorous mind could think of was the snow capped vixen he had left behind and his body only strummed to life when remembering the feel of her beneath his hands.

He tossed his head back, gulping the burning amber liquid in a vain attempt to blur his memories. Over five months and he hadn’t been able to ‘perform’ with anyone else. He’d tried--countless times-- but each attempt all came to the same end. A chill smile and a walk out the door.

In his darkened motel room he snorted derisively at himself. It was damn laughable the state he put himself in. His equipment functioned just fine. Erections were easy, but he just couldn’t follow through. It felt--wrong. No one smelled like her, tasted like her, said his name in that throaty way like her.

He gave his stirring to life crotch a glare. With a savage grunt he shifted position, unzipping his pants. He’s rub one out, go to bed, and once more try and forget…
He grit his teeth as his hand closed around his erection and closed his eyes. His head dropped back against the wall, hand working up and down, tugging and squeezing in time to the remembered thrusts he had shared with Storm. His breaths were ragged, forced past barely parted lips.

It was damn near comically funny that a real flesh and blood woman didn’t turn him on half so much as a memory of a fleeting one night stand. He groaned, remembering vividly the way she had tasted on his tongue, the way her slick heat had enveloped him, wrapped around him, pulled him deep.

His fisted hand increased pace, his lip curling as orgasm approached. Tendons stood out as he spurted his seed into emptiness, his hips rising off the mattress as a broken growl of a name passed his throat. “’Ro.”

~X~

Words. Male voice. Static. Walkie-talkie.

Ororo held back a groan, slowly regaining consciousness, but keeping her eyes closed so not to give herself away. Rain still spattered against the windshields of her Civic and she could feel the thrum of tires beneath her head, but no light of any kind filtered past her lids. Night?

“Our ETA is four minutes.”

ETA? Where was she? How long had she been out? Damn it, she had no time to ask herself unanswerable questions, she needed to get out of the car and away from these psychos and fast.

“Yes, sir. I’ve read her file repeatedly. I am well aware of her capabilities. I’ve studied her extensively. If she tries anything she will go down hard. No, sir, she is still tranqed.”

So this idiot thought he knew her, huh? Well, one thing that wasn’t in any damn file was her determination to protect her child from these assholes. This man wasn’t taking her down, and he sure as hell wasn’t taking her baby.

Concentrating, she blocked out everything but the sound of the rain. As groggy as she was, getting control of the elements took far more effort than normal. She heard the pitter patter droplets take on a harder quality, smacking the windshield.

There was movement from the driver’s seat and she knew the soldier was looking at her so she kept her face and body placid. Let him assume the weather was natural…please…
When he made no move on her she drew a dense fog slowly around them.

The car began slowing. “You’d best not be trying anything.” She felt a hand on her leg, the grip hard in warning. One hand on her leg--one on the wheel…meant no weapon readily in his grasp. She chose that moment to strike. She sat upright, driving the hell of her palm straight into the soldier’s chest, using every ounce of strength she could muster.

“Damn it!” The soldier swore as the car swerved violently on the slick pavement, the reflexive jerk of his arm causing it to spin out of control.

Praying to whatever God would listen Ororo grappled for the handle, throwing herself backwards out of the careening car. She let herself go limp, keeping her arms cradled over her middle, rolling across the ground. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said as she scrambled to her feet, slipping in the mud. “Mommy didn’t have a choice.”

The car squealed to a halt and she heard the door open, the driver hollering. “This isn’t over! When they get you, you’ll wish you were dead!”

Ororo ignored the taunting call, and instead she took off at a dead run, gaining speed, calling her winds to her. She had no idea how long she’d traveled, or even where she was, but she knew exactly where she had to go. Her feet left the ground just as a second set of headlights found her through the fog. She spotted the snarling face of Victor Creed in the truck bed and had the satisfaction of knowing she had bested him--again.

Her triumph was short lived however as the feral leapt onto the truck’s roof and launched himself into the air from a crouch. He was alarmingly fast, giving her little time to react. A large hand grabbed her hair, yanking her down.

She grunted as they hit the ground, her landing heavily on top of him.

“I’m running out of patience with you,” he snarled.

She didn’t waste time on words. She jammed her elbow into his larynx, followed by her forehead to his nose. He yowled, grip loosening enough for her to scramble back away from him. “Stay away from me!” she warned the three other men surrounding her. Her eyes began to glow in the dark, giving them pause.

Creed lunged to his feet, landing in a catlike crouch position. He struck out hard, using his fist. She tried ineffectually to dodge it, taking a hit just below her eye. She felt the skin tear and knew blood was drizzling down her cheek. She lost her footing, slipping on the pavement, dizzy from the blow to her head.

Creed was on her in less than a second, pinning her down, hand curled around her throat.

Ororo went absolutely still. He was incredibly strong and the more she struggled the tighter his fingers dug in. She placed her arms around her middle, protecting her baby her only concern.

“I don’t wanna kill you, frail. They want you back at the lab, but you’re really pissin’ me off.” He brushed her mud splattered hair from her face, fingers incidentally touching the bloody welt she had beneath her eye.

She flinched away from him, her mind trying desperately to formulate another escape plan. A horn blared, drawing the small group’s attention. All eyes turned towards the Mac truck barreling down on them, the release of air brakes sounded deafening in the fog, the truck jack knifing, unable to stop due to the limited visibility.

“Sonofa--”

Ororo kicked out with everything she had, wresting herself free. She rolled down the embankment just as the grill of the Mac slammed into the rear end of the military truck, sparks and glass flying.

She knew without looking that Creed would be giving her chase so she didn’t hesitate, she ran. Her heart pounded a frantic tattoo, she hoped the driver of the big rig would be unharmed, but deep down she knew he was as good as dead.

She leapt high, soaring into the air, sending a pelting rain of hail down behind her, just in case Creed tried another leaping attack. There was none. She was free--for now.





~X~

Logan admired the wild scenery as he took his bike higher and higher up the mountain. At times the road was more pits and gravel than road, only wide enough for one vehicle, but that was fine; only one vehicle ever traveled up here.

He enjoyed the land, the wilderness was his home; his comfort. He was a throwback to earlier times, a man of simple means, and one that could easily live off the land--in fact preferred to. He enjoyed coming to his cabin, a place he could just disappear. No teams, no missions, no trouble. Maybe up here he could clear his head of all the bullshit clouding it lately.

If he could just breathe the mountain air, cleanse himself of everything, then maybe, just maybe he could sleep a full night without waking up aching. Not for his forgotten past, but fro an all to well remembered woman. He cursed, his mind already wandering to wonder where she was and what was she doing. His fingers curled around the gas, throttling forward. The sooner he was at the cabin the better.

Four days later

A sound.

He had been laying in his bed for the better part of the past hour, unable to sleep when he caught a noise that didn’t belong.

One out of place with the normal night noises he was used to.

Logan rolled over in his bed, laying still for a moment, fully alert, senses seeking out the disturbance. A rustle of leaves on the wind, only there hadn’t been any wind a moment ago.

He rose from the bed in complete silence. Still listening, he pulled on his jeans and shirt. He padded his way through his cabin unerringly, one long, razor sharp claw slowly locking into place.

He eased his way out the front door, moving into the night with silent, stealthy, predator movements. He was a shadow among shadows, impossible to discern amidst the night landscape.

Motion on his right drew his gleaming gaze. He moved with purpose, striking hard and fast, a hard tackle that took the intruder down to the ground. The figure beneath him huffed as the wind was knocked from their lungs, as they did he caught her scent. It couldn’t be… As if in confirmation her voice sounded, gruff and irritated.

“Get the hell off of me.”

“’Ro? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you tryin’ to get yourself killed,” he swore.

She rolled to her side, eyes snapping white fire. “No, in fact I am doing everything I can to avoid that little consequence.” She glared. “Which is why I came up here.”

He shook his head, nearly disbelieving and more than a bit pissed off at her arrival. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“I wasn’t exactly looking for you,” she clarified. “You told me about this place, dumbass. I need a place to lay low.” She pushed her hair from her face, puffing away at a stubborn strand.

Logan stared at her. She was everything he remembered and more. He’d filled way too many nights with the memory of the way she felt against him, the smoothness of her skin, her body surrounding his, the fierce need he had to possess her. He shook off the rising need to grab her.

He surveyed her with calculating eyes. Her hair was longer, curling around her ears and brushing her shoulders. Still as soft and as inviting as he remembered and his fingers twitched with the urge to bury themselves in the satin layers. Her eyes, slightly curved upwards, were the same inviting chocolate he remembered, fringed with dark lashes. She was looking at him now with a curious mixture of expectation and fear.

He cocked his head, appraising. He caught why he hadn’t recognized her at first. Her scent, though still appealing, was subtly different. More feminine, somehow. Distracted by that thought, he recalled the way their scents smelled mixed together--powerful and right.

Damn. He was getting hard again. She was too young, to much of a liability for a man like him. He did her a favor walking away once, he just wasn’t sure he could do it again. She was too good for him. She deserved a life, a marriage and eventually a family. Things he would never--could never--give her.

“So, can I stay?” she prompted.

“What the hell did you get mixed up in?” he spat out, trying to remain indifferent despite his wayward thoughts. “Just because we fucked once doesn’t mean I owe you anything. Much less a place to stay.”

Fierce anger clouded her face. The slap was loud, reverberating in the stillness. “Fuck you.”

He moved so fast it was a blur, pinning her to the ground, leaning over her, a snarl curling his sensual lips. His fingers dug into her arms as if he wanted to shake her senseless. His body blanketed hers, falling into her curves and hollows, instinctually imprinting itself on her. Mate. “You forgettin‘ who you‘re dealin‘ with, darlin‘?” he growled.

“No. You seem to be forgetting who you’re dealing with. Now get off of me, you bastard, before I fry you.” Her eyes sparked in emphasis. There was a definite threat in her tone.

Deep down he admired that about her.

As he lay against her the shadows shifted, moonlight fully revealing her face. “Who hit you?” he demanded angrily.

She looked stricken. “Get up.”

“Who the hell hit you?”

“Logan, seriously, get up. I’m going to be sick.”

Her voice was low; strained. She was obviously about to be ill. He scooted back his hand skimming her middle to help her up…and pausing. He knew her body, he had memorized it. He had obsessed about it. The feel of her was different…the scent of her different…. The air rushed from his lungs. Where smooth flat abs had been a soft curve resided. Unwelcome knowledge flooded his brain, making him fling himself away from her as if she’d spontaneously burst into flames.

“You’re pregnant!” he accused.

Instead of answering Ororo rolled onto all fours and threw up violently. She shook with it, her stomach heaving. Reluctantly Logan moved forward, reaching around to pull her hair from her face, holding it at her nape. “Easy, darlin’. Deep breaths.”

She made an inarticulate gurgle, the remnants of her small dinner emptying onto the grass in front of her. She tried to limply shoo him away, but he held fast, holding her upright when she would have collapsed.

Pregnant. Logan’s mind whirred in a hazy fury. She was pregnant. She had let another man touch her. Kiss her. Hold her. Be inside her. How could she? How could she sleep with another man when she belonged to him? There had been no other women for him--he didn’t know if there ever would be. He bit back a vile curse, trying to restrain his rage. He muttered again, “Fuckin’ pregnant.”

Ororo wiped her mouth, getting to her feet. “I can see you’re thrilled with the news.”

She sounded angry, hurt--rejected. He stared at her.

“I would have told you right away,” she continued, “but it’s not like I knew where the hell you were. I came up here because this was the only safe place I could think of under the circumstances.”

Logan swallowed, expectation rising. “What circumstances?”

“Weapon X wants our baby. They’ve already come after me once. I think they’ll try again. I had nowhere else to go. This has already hurt people I cared about.” Becca’s lifeless face rose up in her mind. She shook it away. She met his eyes, hers glinting with determination. “They aren’t taking this baby from me. No one is.”

Logan didn’t reply, his mind was still stuck back on ’our baby’. The way she said it, with such conviction, with a hint of warmth. He stepped towards her, his hand covering the soft swell of her stomach. His child lay there, nestled inside her. “You want the kid?”

Ororo’s chin dimpled with repressed emotion. “More than anything.”

Something shifted in him. She wanted his baby. Actually wanted it. His hard resolve was already melting. He tugged her towards him. She resisted, he insisted. In the end he won.

Ororo was very still, waiting for something, not sure what. Logan turned her in his arms so that her back was to his chest, his hands cupping her belly. “No one will take our baby from us,” he told her.

She sagged against him, relief making her knees weak. She hadn’t known how he would take the news, nor had she realized just how tense she was waiting for his response.

“Let’s get you inside.” Logan took her hand, leading the way.

Once inside the cabin Logan turned on the kettle, pulled out some mugs, grabbed a blanket and settled her on the sofa. “Now, who hit you?” he asked again.

She blinked. “I fail to see how that matters right now.”

“Who?”

“Creed.”

“Sonofabitch!” Logan growled.

“They came after me. Drugged me. Tried to get me to some lab.” She shivered despite the warm wool blanket over her shoulders.

Logan’s hands fisted. “You had to fight them?”

“Yeah.”

He looked ready to kill. “And the baby’s fine?”

“Seems to be,” she assured him.

“Fuck, ‘Ro. You should never have been on your own.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “It’s not like I had a lot of options. I don’t need any lectures from you. I’ve been protecting this baby from day one. You ran off after we fucked, remember? Not me.”

Logan winced as his own words were thrown in his face.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly straight while we’re at it. I’ll accept your help, but not your dictatorship. We clear?”

He barely repressed his smirk. “Maybe,” he conceded.

She rolled her eyes, wincing at the pain in her temples.

“Headache?” he sat beside her.

“Yeah. Tired mostly.”

His fingers touched her head gently, rubbing small circles. “You bring any luggage?”

“No.” she sighed. “No chance to do much of anything but run. Didn’t dare go back to my place. Used my money to eat.”

He scowled, hating that she had to endure that on her own. “I’ll grab you a tee shirt.”

“Thanks.” She shifted as he rose, settling against the cushions.

Logan returned to the sitting area less than a minute later to find Ororo sound asleep. He covered her more fully, taking a seat in the recliner opposite the couch. He watched the up and down rise of her chest, his gaze lingering on her fuller breasts before sweeping down to her belly. “I suppose I should thank you for those,” he commented. His throat tightened. He had a child… he had a family.

He was surprised by the one thought that pounded into his brain over and over: He wasn’t letting them go.

She was suffocating.

They had caught her!

She thrashed against the darkness smothering her.

Her arms flailed.

Her feet kicked.

And her ass hit the floor.

“Oomph.”

“’Ro?” Logan called to her. “You okay?”

With a muted grumble she tossed the wool blanket from her head, resting her elbow on the couch. Her hair clung to her face in a static-laced web. “I’m fine.” Just being attacked by your blanket, she finished internally.

Logan came down the hall, buttoning a red and black flannel shirt and obviously fresh from a shower. He gave her a curious look. “What the hell ya doin’ on the floor?”

She didn’t answer but instead stood up to stretch, hoping he wouldn‘t see the lingering fear in her eyes. Before she was fully upright Logan was beside her, helping her stand. So close she could feel his damp body heat. Too close.

“You’re safe,” he told her. She should have known he’d see--or smell-- through her. Logan’s hand came up, his fingers curling around her nape, massaging.

She stared up at him, looking far more young and vulnerable than he cared for. Following his instincts he wrapped his arms around her, holding her, offering what little comfort he knew how. He wasn’t a man of many words, never had been, but when he spoke, it was with conviction. “They won’t take our baby from us, ‘Ro. I take care of my own.”

She leaned into his touch, her forehead dropping to his chest. “I was afraid,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared before.”

“Of telling me? Or of Weapon X?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

His fingers trailed through her hair. Feathering the strands released her scent, a mixture of flowers and rain that reminded him of the wilderness. Perhaps he hadn’t come to his cabin to escape the memory of their one night together, but to bury himself in it.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. “I know what happened between us was no more than a good bye, but I won’t apologize for the consequences. As our baby gets bigger it’ll be harder for me to defend myself, but I’ll do whatever I have to. If you don’t want us here, if we’re too big of a liability--”

“’Ro, shut up.”

She closed her mouth.

“You’re here. We’ll work it out.”

Ororo backed away a step. “You made it very clear to me that your life did not include room for me. I don’t want some forced obligation because of a baby. Teach me to defend myself, how to survive against these assholes and that’s all I’m asking of you.”

Logan watched her try and distance herself, his eyes veiled. “Is that all?” There was a definite edge to his voice. “Well, that’s too bad, because that’s my kid and no way in hell am I just stepping aside.”

“What if I shove you out of the way?” she answered back with a huff.

For one brief moment amusement flashed in his silver gaze. “I’m pretty hard to budge.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see.” She decided to move on to a different topic. “I’m going to need some clothes.”

He nodded. “I’ll head to town in a bit. Make me a list of what you need.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just went with you?” She shook out the blanket and folded it neatly onto the back of the couch.

“I don’t want you seen in town. At least not until I’ve scoped it out.” There was finality in his voice, which was fine, she had no intention of arguing. Seeing as such, Logan continued, “Why don’t you take a shower, think about what you need and I’ll fix you something to eat. You can wear some of my sweats until I get back.”

Ororo nodded, ignoring the flare of heat she felt. Just the idea of wearing his clothes sent a shiver of desire through her. Stop it, she chided herself. He must have felt it too because the next moment she was pressed up against his chest. He was rock hard, his body unyielding, his thick erection making itself known against her stomach.

Her own body ached with wanting. Her breasts felt full and tight, her womb clenching in anticipation. She tried to insert a verbal wall between them. “This can’t happen. You and I…it was a mistake.”

“The hell it was. It was the only right thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed himself even closer. “I can still taste you in my mouth, every breath I take, every inhale of your scent makes me want to pick you up, wrap your legs around me and bury myself so deep I can’t even think.”

There was no denying the firestorm of passion that flared between them. It was all consuming, crackling in the air around them. His mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue sweeping past her lips. There was nothing subtle about the kiss, it was purely dominant, demanding her submission. Ororo was swept up in the sensuality of it all, moaning as his hands roamed her body, slipping beneath her shirt to touch soft, bare skin. She shuddered, she wanted him so bad, but did he want her for her? Or because she was carrying his child? It had been so easy for him to walk away once--would he do it again? Tears pricked her eyes. She felt sexually and emotionally frustrated.

Logan abruptly lifted his head. Large hands framed her face. “Are you crying?”

She tried to deny it but a single tear slipped past her lashes.

Logan bent his head, kissing the drop from its resting place at the corner of her mouth.

That gesture, so simple, and impossibly intimate made her eyes well over. She shook her head, disgusted with herself for being such a crybaby. She wiped her cheeks, muttering, “Stupid hormones.”

Logan sighed, pulling her head to his chest. He brushed a kiss over her snowy tresses.

Ororo shook, the dam around her emotions crumbling. “I don’t know what to think. I’m too tired. Too wired. Both. All I know for certain is that I can’t let them have our baby. I can’t let them do what they do…” she closed her eyes. “I can’t.”

Her tear filled voice tore at his heart. “Shh. It’s okay.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “They won’t ever get our baby and experiment on it. I swear to you. Not ever, you hear me?”

She nodded, sniffling. “I hear you.”

Thick fingers tangled in her hair. For years he had thought all the good and gentleness in him had been driven out, but it was there, rising to the surface. He knew he was protective of his child, but it was more than that. Somehow, someway, she had slipped past his defenses and touched his humanity. She had done it long before now, perhaps on that snow covered road those many months ago where she had defended him against Deathstrike when she could have left him. Or in her room, after their return from Canada, when she told him his past was gone, and his future was what he wanted it to be. Or perhaps, even before that, when her lips met his on a dirty rooftop overlooking the city and all he could think of was how hard it was to think with her so close. Whatever the case, Ororo Munroe had reached in and grabbed hold.

She was as much his family as the child was.

“We’ll make it work, ‘Ro.”

Ororo wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

Logan released her slowly, his hand lingering on her wounded cheek. “After I leave I’ll be gone for most of the day. It’s three hours to town.”

“I’ll manage,” she said. “After all, I expected to be here by myself.”

“Well, ya aren’t,” his voice was gruff.

“I know that, Logan.”

“Good.” One more quick kiss on the mouth and he was headed for the kitchen. “Go shower, I’ll start breakfast.”

Ororo watched him for a moment and the easy way he moved around the kitchen. She had never had anyone offer to take care of her before, and for it to be Wolverine, well, it was surreal to say the least.

Logan watched her walk down the hall from the corner of his eye. He stood at the counter whisking eggs, but his entire attention was on her. He inhaled a deep breath, noting the way her scent was already mingling with his in the cabin. He had been the only occupant of this place since he’d built it, and it wouldn’t be long before he could smell her everywhere. He was a bit surprised to find that he didn’t mind, in fact, he found himself content with the idea of their blending scents.

He knew she was scared and uncertain right now, and trying to erect a wall around herself for protection, but he couldn’t let her barricade herself away from him. Ororo was just going to have to learn to live with him and trust what was between them. It didn’t occur to him to question why he was so willing to accept the situation and her into his home, for Logan, it simply was.

Ororo tousled her hair with a towel with one hand, the other wiping the steam from the medicine cabinet mirror. The hot shower had taken some of the aches from her body, but she still felt tense. Dread seemed to grow from her stomach, and was now climbing her throat, choking her. She couldn’t get away from it.

Logan was a help. She felt safer just being around him. He was the kind of man, that in spite of his roughness, treated women with gentleness. She had seen it in him when he was with Jean. Subtle things he did for the red-head like get her favorite ice cream or watch a Hugh Grant movie that spoke of a tender heart beneath the hard exterior.

He had been beaten, tortured, stripped of all he was and yet he was still more than any other man--any other person--she had ever known.

“Everything okay in there?”

Ororo turned at the knock on the door. “Yeah, fine, just taking my time. I left my list on the bed. ”

“Food’s on the table.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in awhile.”

“All right.” She opened the door a crack, hoisting the terry cloth around her body a bit higher.

Logan stood just outside the door. “If you go outside stay near the cabin.”

“Why, do you have the place booby-trapped.”

He raised one eyebrow at her.

“Paranoid much?”

It quirked higher.

She realized that given his past and who he was, he had every reason to be.

“Drive carefully,” she said for lack of anything else.

He nodded, touching her face. “Don’t you worry about me, darlin’.”

His touch caused her to close her eyes reflexively, savoring it.

“Aw, hell.” Logan cupped her cheek, leaning forward to press his mouth to hers. He lingered over her bottom lip before pulling back. “Stop looking so fuckin’ sexy,” he ordered her before turning on his heel and stomping away.

Ororo closed the door, bemused by his ridiculous command.



Several Hours Later

Having explored the cabin thoroughly Ororo was more than impressed with Logan’s skills. The place was beautifully built and everything was obviously crafted with care and attention. She especially loved the wrap around deck. Which was where she was seated when she spotted a solitary headlight coming up the path.

She stood, hands on the rail, feeling a kick of relief and expectation at his return. He pulled up next to the porch, looking windblown and delicious. He dismounted, unstrapping his carry-on pack from the back of the bike.

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” she commented, wrapping her arms around a porch pole.

“Had incentive to come home,” he said easily.

Ororo felt her heart flutter at that. She pushed aside the bubbling feeling, leaping over the rail onto the ground. “What’d you get?”

Logan grabbed her by the arm. “Jesus, ‘Ro. Be careful. What if you’d fallen and hurt the baby.”

“Are you mental? I can fly, Logan. Remember?”

“You can still fall,” he sounded gruff. “You ain’t immune to clumsiness.”

“Oh, for the love of… Just shut up and show me what’s in the bag.”

Logan’s lip quirked. She never did take his overbearing seriously. “Come on inside, it’s getting’ chilly.”

“I don’t get cold.”

“Yeah, yeah, but does the baby? Or too hot? If you heat up…” he let it trail off.

Ororo felt suddenly stupid for not thinking of that.

Seeing her stricken expression Logan stroked his thumb over her wrist. “You can’t be expected to have all the answers.”

“Some would be nice,” she said, angry at herself.

Logan tugged her hand, bringing her back up the stairs and onto the porch. He settled onto the porch swing, pulling her down onto his lap. “You need to relax,” he stated. Tension was literally seeping from her every pore. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“You must think I am a completely lame mother.”

He tilted her chin so that she could see his eyes when he spoke. “There ain’t no other woman on the planet I’d want having my kid.”

She blinked unexpected tears away. “How can you say that? It’s not like we planned on having a family. You didn’t ever want to see me again.”

“You’re wrong.” His fingertips traced small circles on her skin. “Walking away from you that night was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said, ‘Ro.” He swallowed, shifting her more comfortably against his chest. “I’m sorry if the things I said hurt you.”

“They did,” she admitted. “I don’t want me or the baby to be a liability for you--”

“Stop.” He dropped his head over hers. “I want you here with me. I want us to raise our baby together.”

“You do?”

“Hell yes.” He paused, seemingly contemplating. “Just so long as it’s a boy.”

She tried to pull away from him with an indignant snort. He held fast. “Why not a girl?” she demanded.

“Because my heart couldn’t take a girl. Can you imagine some poor kid trying to date my daughter. I’d be forever sharpening my claws. It’s better for my sanity if we have a boy.”

She smiled. Logan could feel it against his chest. “Boy or girl, I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.” Ororo’s voice held more than a hint of wary awe.

Hearing it, and the joy beneath it Logan’s gut tightened. His hand traveled over her abdomen, settling on the swell of her stomach. “Thank you,” he said, voice tight.

She seemed to understand. Nestling closer to listen to his heart and the sounds of the woods all around them she said gently, “You’re welcome.”

“Tired?” he asked after awhile.

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” He stood with her still cradled in his arms.

It took her a minute to realize he was bypassing the couch and heading for his bedroom. She swallowed nervously. It would be the first time they’d shared a bed since that night.

Logan watched her throat work and even that was sexy to him. He set her gently on her feet just inside his bedroom threshold. “I want you,” he told her point blank. “Is it safe for the baby?”

Ororo regarded his face, his tight expression and knew without a doubt that she wanted him too. She smiled. “According to my baby book, sex is okay, even vigorous sex.”

Logan let out his breath. “Good.” He grasped the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it up, slowly, inch by inch. Ororo moaned as the material caressed her ultra sensitive nipples. The sound made Logan’s already hard body tighten even more. He tossed the shirt aside, staring at her revealed, beautiful flesh. Her nipples were darker, larger than he remembered, crowning full round breasts.

His hands gripped the sweat pant, sliding them down over the swell of her belly and the curve of her hips. She took a dainty step out of the garment, watching him as he watched her. He could read the uncertainty in her eyes. She hadn’t put on a lot of weight, but there was a definite roundness to her stomach. Nothing had ever looked so beautiful to him. “God, ‘Ro.” He pouched her stomach. “ You’re so beautiful…”

She stepped to him. “Your turn.”

Moments later his clothing joined hers on the floor, her hands exploring his hard muscles and contours. She lifted her face for his kiss, opening for him the moment she felt his tongue caress the seam of her lips.

Logan groaned as he sank into the damp heat of her mouth. She tasted so good and sweet. Teeth nipped along her mouth, neck and down to her shoulder. He flicked his tongue over her nipple and she shivered, arching her back to offer him more. Logan growled, pressing his leg between her thighs, backing her towards the bed.

Ororo cried out when his fingers touched her, stroking her into readiness. Her head fell back as she rode out his ministrations. “Logan, please.” She stroked his neck, her palms running flat over his chest, thumbs teasing pert nipples.

A low growl tore from his throat, his hunger for her rising. He dropped to his knees, dragging her thighs farther apart. Her scent was intoxicating, making him swear aloud, placing his mouth over her center.

“Logan.” His name came out broken, caught up in a cry of pleasure. He growled again, the vibration sending heat spiraling through her and causing liquid to pool against his lapping tongue. He licked her hungrily, not content with her simply writhing against him. He wanted to hear her screaming his name, feel her shuddering in ecstasy.

Ororo caught his tufts of hair in her fists. She was losing her mind, she thought as her legs wobbled, turning into jelly. She wasn’t sure how much she could take, her muscles tightening to the point of pain. “L-Logaaaaan…” He added his fingers, thrusting two deep as his teeth found and teased her most sensitive nub. Ororo let go, losing herself in the pleasure. She was mindless, thrusting herself against his mouth, riding his fingers until she felt like she was going to implode. Except she didn’t. She exploded. Her scream was lustful and loud, shocking herself, even as she continued to thrust helplessly against his face.

Logan felt a surge of primitive satisfaction. He lowered her to the bed, keeping her legs spread wide. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he rasped. He rubbed the broad head of his erection against her saturated skin, earning yet another fractured cry of want from her. He pressed forward, a strangled sound escaping. She was tighter than before. Swollen. “Oh, God.”

Ororo clawed his back, her hips driving upwards, seeking. “I can’t…I need…”

Logan gripped her hips, holding her to him. “I know, baby. I know what you need.”

“Please.” She was sobbing.

He withdrew slightly, then with one savage grunt and hard surge he filled her.

Ororo’s nails drew blood. “Logan!”

He was hard, demanding, spreading her legs wide so he could see himself thrusting in and out of her tightness. He pressed her hard, stimulating her clit with his thumb as he pounded over and over.

Ororo’s eyes flashed white and a boom of thunder shook the cabin. “Harder!”

“Can you take it?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Harder!” Her hips lifted, pleaded. “Give it to me.”

“Fuck, yes!” Logan’s teeth gnashed his own lower lip as he slammed into Ororo. “Fuck, baby, so goddamn tight! So wet…”

“For you,” she panted. “Only for you…”

Logan’s muscles knotted and tensed, at the brink of orgasm.

“Take me with you,” she moaned.

“Let go, baby.” Logan’s thumb circled faster and faster, hips pumping furiously. “I’ll catch you.”

Her body reacted instantly, her inner muscles contracting hard and squeezing him. The thrashed together, hoarse shouts and keening wails over powering the slap of skin on skin. Logan shouted her name as he lost himself in hot, jetting spurts. It took him a full minute to catch his breath. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he rasped.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Logan rolled to the side, pulling her with him to rest against his chest. “You okay?”

“If by okay you mean shaking like a leaf after mind-blowing sex, then yeah. I’m okay.”

He chuckled. “Mind blowin’, eh?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gave her a soft, gentle kiss. He rolled onto his side so that they faced one another, his palm cupping her breast.

She sighed, still throbbing from release. “Logan?”

“We’re just gettin’ warmed up, darlin’.”

“Oh, God.”

His grin was wicked. “You’ll be sayin’ that a lot.”

“There’s that cocky attitude again.”

“I guess I’ll just have to prove it.”

And he did. Over and over again.

Swept away on a wave of emotion
Overcaught in the eye of the storm
And whenever you smile
I can hardly believe that you're mine


It was, all things considered, very relaxing being around Logan. Despite the potentially disastrous circumstances of their reunion, Ororo was grateful to be where she was. In New York, at the Institute, Logan’s cocky demeanor had irritated her to no end, but for the past two weeks she’d come to find solace in his self-certainty, comfort in his mammoth ego.

She hugged her elbows to her, watching the object of her musing mow the lawn. What an utterly normal thing for him to do, she thought. Why that amused, and admittedly surprised her, she had no idea. Why wouldn’t Logan do normal things such as yard work? Because he seemed too wild to participate in the every day mundane activities that average people did, she answered herself. Out here, in the wilderness, more and more she realized how very untamed Logan truly was. He exuded primal; “me man, you woman”, and despite being a staunchly strong, independent woman, she found herself turning into a pile of goo on his front porch, staring at the pseudo cave-man mowing the grass.

Ororo shook her head, a wry smile gracing her lips. Fluttering and confusing emotions aside, she had to admit there were certain perks to watching him as he did manual labor. Well-built and highly developed muscles gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat. Skin, the color of polished bronze glimmered beneath the waning afternoon sunlight. Broad pectorals covered by a sweat dampened thatch of black hair caught and held her attention as he maneuvered the push mower around a sapling. Good Lord above, the man was positively sex in skin.

As if alerted to her presence by that wayward thought, Logan lifted his dark head in her direction. His immediate smile at the sight of her was both sweet and deliciously wicked.

“Hey,” she called, stepping forward, her bare feet silent on the planks. I brought you a beer.” She elevated the bottle from the rail and held it aloft, knowing he couldn’t hear her over the rumble of the mower.

Logan cut the engine. “Thanks, darlin’.” He strode up onto the walk around porch, wiping the back of one hand across his brow. He took the beer appreciatively. “Sweatin’ like a pig,” he stated with a grin. He enjoyed manual labor and it showed. Logan truly got pleasure from working with his hands and feeling like he’d accomplished something. Mowing was nowhere near the triumph of building his own cabin, but he still enjoyed it. He had already informed her that once the lawn was satisfactory he would start her a garden if she wanted. Ororo, having never been much of a plant person growing up on the streets, was intrigued by the idea and had agreed.

“Pigs don’t sweat,” Ororo informed him idly, snapping the tab of her Sprite.

He chuckled. “Hnh. Well, I do.”

She gave him a once over, again engrossed by the play of muscle beneath sweat. “You certainly do.”

Logan paused mid-drink, the slightly husky timbre of her voice catching his full attention. He set the beer back onto the rail. “I could go for a shower.” One broad palm lowered to rest on her hip, dragging her closer. “Join me.” It wasn’t a question. He bent his head, nuzzling her throat.

A low, droning rumble of thunder heralded the warm spray called down upon them by its mistress. Logan tilted his face to the sky, savoring the cool droplets against his sweat slicked skin. “Nice.” He pressed closer. She melted against him and he groaned. “You’re pretty dress is about to get all muddy,” was the only warning he gave her before swinging her into his arms and hauling her onto the freshly mowed front lawn.

“Not to mention covered in grass clippings,” she laughed up at him. Her next words were lost on the breeze when he touched her. His hands moved over her with a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness, molding her breasts beneath his palms, cupping her hips to his as his mouth licked hungrily across her neck and shoulder. Just his touch left her speechless.

He rolled her so that she straddled him, not crushed by his weight. One large hand settled over the swell of her stomach and the smile that lit his face brought a sting of tears to her eyes. She quickly blinked them away. She shook her hair free of its elastic confine, the sodden, grass tangled strands sticking to her face.

“My God, ‘Ro, you’re so beautiful.” His voice was graveled, rasping and full of want.

She smiled, a slow, sultry smile that promised all sorts of immoral delights. Bending forward she licked rain droplets from his whiskers. He tasted of sweat and sun, and raw male. It was an invigorating combination that made her heart accelerate double time.

They didn’t bother with many formalities. Ororo gently bit his lips, rearing up so that her hand could fumble with the button, then the zipper of his faded jeans. She tugged the seam of his boxers open, releasing him into her waiting grip. He groaned low in his throat, the sound music to Ororo’s ears.

Logan, for his part, was busy hefting the hem of her dress to her waist and moving her panties to one side, granting him access to her already slick heat. His thick fingers stroked her folds with practiced skill, causing her to shiver. He knew just the right ways to caress her.

Their lips met in a kiss that scorched the earth and then he was inside, filling her and she was taking him. It was poetic, their joining, in ways that Logan had not ever in his vast life experienced. Eyes, so alive with warmth and soul, sparkled down at him and he was lost. Lost in her.

He framed her face between his broad palms as she began to move over him, holding her. “Ororo,” he growled.

Her name. No flowery words, no sweet nothings. Just her name. Said in a voice that held more than a bit of reverence and awe, by the man she had loved since the day she had laid eyes on him. It was the most beautiful thing Ororo had ever heard.

Logan’s hands traced the delicate line of her jaw, trailed the graceful curve of her shoulder, before tightening on her hips to guide her, setting a slow, steady pace. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “So, good.” He watched her atop him with passion heavy eyes.

Ororo was simply devastating to his senses in her pleasure. Full, swollen lips parted, her breaths heavy as she approached release, eyes frosted white, hair slicked back, revealing the long column of her throat and her scent--God, her wonderful scent--mixing with the grass and the rain, surrounding him.

“Oh… oh, yes, I’m close,” she moaned. Thunder confirmed her proclamation.

With a twist of his lips, one that revealed his stark white canines, Logan lifted his ass from the ground, surging to the hilt.

“Logan!” Ororo’s fingernails dug into his chest, her nails piercing like little talons, the sting making him surge again; harder. Open mouthed she let out a silent scream of ecstasy, bucking atop him in shameless abandon.

“Beautiful,” he grunted his earlier compliment, wishing he had a more extensive vocabulary; beautiful seemed an inadequate word to describe the vision atop him. Three more hard surges and he followed her over the edge, throwing his own head back into the wet soil, the tendons of his neck straining as he poured himself into Ororo, in what felt like a never ending torrent, yet was over far too soon.

A short time later, soaked to the bone with sweat and rain, Ororo lay sprawled across Logan’s chest, her own rising and falling in time to her erratic breathing. She gradually lifted her head, swiping grass from her cheek. “We‘re dirtier now than when we started…” she murmured the first thought coming to her muddled mind.

“Mmm. Gotta love the outdoor nookie,” Logan rumbled in response, patting the curve of her backside.

Ororo lifted her head, eyes narrowing. “Exactly just how many times have you participated in ‘outdoor nookie’?”

Contemplating that--far longer than Ororo cared for--Logan couldn’t help but feel a warm swell in his stomach when he caught the subtle shift in her scent that spoke of jealousy. “Countin’ this time?” he asked mildly.

She pressed her elbows into his chest, providing him an unobstructed view of her full-on glower. “Yes, including this time.”

“Hnh. Then once.”

She snorted indignantly. “Yeah, right.”

Logan caught the back of her head, drawing her down to him. His lips whispered against hers when he spoke. “Let me rephrase the question for ya then. How many times have I made love outdoors? The answer is once. With you.”

She tried to quell the hopeful flare in her heart at the words made love, but failed miserably. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.“ Logan pressed her lips to his for a slow, tantalizing exploration. She leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss, studying his expression, trying to decipher if there was meaning behind the words.

“What‘s on your mind, darlin’?”

Deciding she‘d rather skirt the issue, than face it head on, she hedged, “I was just thinking how…fast you and I have settled into the role of a couple. Does that feel a bit odd to you?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

Logan grunted, rolling to his knees, drawing her alongside. “’Ro, it’s always been you for me.” He thumbed a mud smear from her chin. “I knew it that night we kissed on that rooftop. It was confirmed the night we said goodbye, and it was damn well cemented when you showed up here with my baby in your belly.”

She wanted to believe him, so badly, but she was still hesitant, recalling all the times she wore her heart on her sleeve only to have him snub her. “So why did you push me away?”

Logan gave a nasal sigh. Talking was not something he was especially fond of doing, but he knew Ororo needed to hear the truth behind his actions towards her. A truth he himself had only just recently come to realize. “Because you scared the hell outta me.”

“I…scared you?”

“Damn straight.” His eyes were intent on her face as he spoke. “You made me break every rule I ever gave myself. Never trust, never get too close, never have a--”

“Liability,” she finished for him.

“No,” he corrected, voice firm. “A life. A family, ‘Ro.” His hands came to her shoulders. “All the things I denied myself for as long as I can remember-- it all seemed possible when I was with you.”

She tilted her chin appraisingly. All her life Ororo Munroe had thrown caution to the wind, taken risks, and thrived off of living to the fullest not knowing the consequences. But it was different with Logan. Everything was different now. She had a child to think about.

Logan watched the play of emotions flickering in her eyes and something cold curled itself around his heart. If she was trying to rely on logic to come to terms with him, he knew he was doomed. He cupped his hand around the base of her neck, tilting her head up so he could plunder her mouth. He teased the corners of her lips, “Don’t analyze this, ’Roro. Trust your instincts.”

Although her head told her that eventually he would end up cutting his losses and running, her gut told her to stay. To trust what her heart had always known. Logan was the man for her. She gave a small murmur of acceptance, angling her head to press her mouth against the steady pulse in his throat. Her teeth nipped the tendons, a pleasure that teased pain. “Ok,” she said.

Cupping his hands under her rear, he hefted her against his hard body. “We’re not a mistake,” he told her, and she caught the hint of self doubt in his voice.

A chink in his armor, she realized. Logan was afraid that she’d think having his baby was a mistake. “Not a mistake,” she assured him, wrapping her legs around his middle. “I want you again, Logan. I want you so much.” She rocked against him as he started up the steps of the porch. “Where are we going?”

He kicked open the door. “Where I can do this properly.”

Once in their bedroom Logan let Ororo slide down the length of his body, his pulse jumping with each fleeting touch of her lips to his fevered flesh. His eyes stayed on hers as he let out a solitary claw on each hand, running the backsides of the deadly blades across her exposed collar bone. He edged the tips beneath each of the spaghetti thin straps holding up her sundress. A quick flick and the garment pooled at her feet.

She shuddered once, closing her eyes. Then she surprised him, her fist closing like a vice on his hair, dragging his head back so she could latch onto his throat.

Fuck!

He shook with repression, trying to quell the answering call of his inner animal, all the while his hips were grinding agonizingly against hers. Logan shuffled her back to the bed, forcing her down with just his proximity. Ororo sensed his control was tethered on a very short leash and found she didn’t care. Not in the least.

She let out a sigh of pleasure when she felt his hands on her thighs, stroking the satin skin. Logan raised his head and she saw that his eyes had gone dark, black obsidian orbs, glittering with possession. She should have been afraid, instead she delighted in it.

And that was what he saw. No fear, but joy. It was more than he had a right to ask for, but he reveled in it regardless. His hands moved slowly upwards, over thighs, hips, abdomen and breasts. He pinched the taut peaks and was rewarded by a wanton cry.

With borderline violent need, Logan tore his jeans off, kicking them, along with his boots across the room. He tumbled onto the bed beside her, his hands and mouth suddenly everywhere, making it impossible for Ororo to think.

Flesh pressed to flesh as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. He entered her in one sure thrust, capturing her broken cry with his tongue. Hands found purchase on slick shoulders and Ororo gave herself up to the storm he awoke within her.

Thunderclaps, flashing lights and howling winds were the byproduct of a fervor that went far beyond the physical. Ororo sobbed his name into his shoulder, clinging to him.

That sound made Logan growl. He urged her to let go, to give herself up to him. He heard her strangled gasp against his salty skin, felt the convulsive dig of her fingernails into his back, and was drugged by the intensity of her release. She screamed. Bawdy wails for him to fuck her, to love her, and to never stop. All of which he was more than willing to comply with.

Even when the last tremors left her limp and sated, Logan was braced above her, surging, sinking, pulling and demanding her to follow him. She rasped out his name, exhausted, yet already her blood was hot again. Long legs curled around a firm backside, her heels digging in, jockeying his pace, harder, faster, deeper…Goddess above she was going wild.

Logan blinked sweat from his eyes, teeth grit tight as he pounded over and over, both lovers insatiable. He felt the first tingling signs of climax in his gut, muscles tightening, cock throbbing, his whole being feeling heavy. He leaned back, licking his way from full breasts to trembling lips. “Darlin‘…?” He didn’t recognize his own voice. Strained and hoarse, with a plaintive note in it.

“Yes, Logan, God, yes!”

As his arms encircled her, and his hips pounded out the last few strokes that culminated in his roar of bliss, Logan knew without a doubt that he loved Ororo. Loved her like he could never love anyone else.



Someone was humming.

Ororo’s hand slid across the sheets, coming to rest on the cool portion that should have been rock hard male. Slowly she blinked here eyes open, peering through limp strands of hair. “Logan?”

“In the kitchen,” he called. Then resumed humming.

Ororo’s lips twitched. She’d made Logan hum. A wonderfully pleasant feeling of smugness settled over her. She yawned, ruffling her hair before padding to the bathroom. She needed to pee and shower, both relatively desperately.

Twenty minutes later a much refreshed Ororo emerged from the bathroom clad in a fluffy robe and fuzzy slippers. She made her way down the hall to the kitchen, drawn by succulent aromas.

Logan tossed her a quick grin over his shoulder from his position by the stove. “Hope you’re hungry.”

She inhaled deep. “Mmmm. It smells delicious.”

Logan set his spatula onto the cutting board. “So do you,” he murmured into her damp hair.

She gave a breathless laugh and felt the now familiar helpless fluttering in her stomach. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“Never, Darlin’.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “But I know you need your rest.” A pointed look to her swollen abdomen punctuated that. “Go sit down.”

Ororo grabbed a piece of still warm garlic bread from the counter. “Yeah, yeah.” She froze two steps away from the kitchen.

“’Ro?” Logan came around the island, concern furrowing his brow. “Do you need to lie down? Fuck, I knew I was too rough--”

She waved excitedly. “Wait, wait. Here.” She grabbed his hand, pressing it to the lower part of her belly.

It was perfectly natural that the tiny bundle confined within Ororo’s womb would one day be big and strong enough to be felt by his hands, Logan knew, but that in no way prepared him for the miracle of feeling his child move beneath him. He drew in a shaky breath, his eyes glittering with a fine sheen of emotion.

Ororo meshed her fingers with his, sharing in his joy. Tears swam in her own eyes, and she would be eternally thankful that she was the one that brought him this moment. “Our baby,” she whispered.

Logan, speechless, dropped to one knee in front of her, cradling her stomach. He parted the robe, placing a tender kiss just below her navel. “Thank you, Ororo.”

Understanding the wealth of meaning behind his words Ororo smiled tremulously. “You’re welcome.”

Breaking the moment, a shrill clang rent the air. Ororo covered her ears. “What the hell is that?” she shouted.

Logan was already moving her towards the back of the cabin. “Perimeter alarm. Get into the cellar.”

“Like hell,” she argued. Someone was invading their sanctuary and she wasn’t about to crawl in a hole and hide.

“Storm, we talked about this. Get your ass into the fuckin’ cellar. Now!”

Realizing Logan was wasting time shepherding her when he could be doing what he did best, Ororo relented. “Fine.” She grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “Be careful.”

“Don’t you worry about me.” *SNIKT*

She opened the door leading to the cellar. Can’t help it, she thought, I love you. She shut the door.



Logan listened for the deadbolt on the opposite side of the door to latch. Satisfied that Ororo was out of immediate harm’s way, he set about dousing the lights. He turned the stove off, crouched low and hunkered his way towards the porch, being sure to stop by his gun chest and grab his sidearm. He slapped the perimeter alarm and the immediate silence took a moment to adjust to.

Beside the front screen door Logan lifted his head, sniffing. He caught several scents, but one stood out. Slowly, he rose to his feet. “You could have called, Nicky!” he shouted.

General Nick Fury, Commander of S.H.I.E.L.D Special Ops, emerged from the tree line, lighting a cigar. The same brand Logan favored, which was no surprise, it had been Nick that had given him the brand. The two soldiers had met under awkward circumstances. Back before its disassembly, Weapon X was a S.H.I.E.L.D run program. It had been Fury’s job to transport Wolverine in his adamantium cage to General Ross. During that transport an Iraqi guerilla ambush killed Fury’s entire team and inadvertently freed Wolverine from his prison.

Instead of making a clean getaway, Logan had busied himself by slaughtering the Iraqi guards. Fury, the only survivor of the ambush, was discovered by Logan. Instead of leaving his former captor to die, he had carried him bareback to the nearest Allied encampment.

Although Logan was immediately tranqed and re-imprisoned by his handlers, a bond between the two men was formed. Fury had done everything in his power to remove Logan from Weapon X division and moved over to S.H.I.E.L.D.

But that was then, and this was now, and over the years that fragile bond had been stretched, tested and nearly severed, leaving both men wary of the other. Evidence of that lay in the fact that the General was flanked by two soldiers, each armed to the teeth. Nick was never one for chances.

“If I’d have called that would have ruined the surprise.”

“What the hell do you want?” Logan opened the door letting it rap shut behind him.

“Got a job that needs your particular skill--”

Logan held up his hand. “That’s far enough.”

Nick stopped. “More paranoid than usual, I see.”

Logan chuffed. “It ain’t paranoid when I got Special Ops guys falling outta the sky, now is it.”

Nick inclined his head with a smirk. “I suppose not. So…you wanna hear me out?”

“Not particularly.”

Nick took a drag from his cigar. “I think you’ll want to hear what I’ve got to say.”

Logan, in all honesty, didn’t give two shits about what Nick Fury needed him for, but he also knew the man was extremely good at what he did and never approached Logan without something urgent or very dirty. He also wasn’t the type of man to make wasted trips. “Fine. You can come to the porch, but your two pups stay where they are.” He unsheathed his claws. “Or they get neutered.”

“Fair enough.” Logan could hear the humor in Fury’s voice.

As soon as Fury stepped foot on the bottom step, Logan demanded, “Out with it.”

“Always so pleasant.”

“This a social call, Nicky?” Logan leaned against the rail. “I can tell ya, you ain’t my type.”

“Cute.” Nick reached into his lapel pocket, removing a yellow envelope. “This is classified information,” he said handing over the packet.

Logan rolled his eyes. When wasn’t it? He unraveled the leather cord sealing the envelope and removed the papers inside. He skimmed the documents, mouth thinning. A tick started in his jaw. “So Cornelius isn’t dead,” he muttered, anger causing his vision to go red. Well that certainly explained Weapon X’s sudden resurgence and interest in his child. “This intel confirmed?”

Nick nodded once. “Yes.”

Logan took a deep breath. He folded the documents back up and handed them to Fury. “Sorry, Nicky. Can’t help you.”

The General blinked his one eye. “Come again?”

“I said not interested.”

“You’re a shitty liar, Wolverine. Of course you’re interested. Hell your tick is started already.”

Logan glared at the man. “Let’s just say I have personal things that need my attention.”

“I’ve known you a long time, Wolverine. You don’t do personal. Anything.”

“Well, I do now.”

“Since when?”

“Since I gotta kid on the way.”

That halted Nick. He turned his solitary eye towards Logan, evaluating. “Well, then, congratulations are in order. Who’s the lucky woman?”

“Storm.”

Nick whistled. “Then lucky you.”

Logan shot him a look.

Fury studied his face. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“No.”

Nick’s expression was somber. “They’ll be after you twice as hard now.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“All the more reason you should--”

“I said no!”

“No to what?”

Both men turned, startled to see Ororo in the doorway. She stood with one hand on her hip, eyes rimmed electric blue and a rifle leaning against her terry cloth clad thigh. “No to what?” she repeated the question.

“Nothin’.” Logan shot Fury a warning look.

One that he did not heed. “I was just telling Wolverine that Dr. Cornelius is still alive. I was hoping Wolverine could help us locate him. We have some solid leads.”

Logan had to give her credit. Only the slight tensing of her shoulders gave away that the news distressed her. “Well, that certainly explains a lot,” she murmured, echoing his earlier thought.

“And I was just telling the General I had other priorities.”

“If it’s Storm’s safety that is an issue I will provide armed guards. S.H.I.E.L.D’s finest.” Fury added. “Men that I will personally vouch for.”

“Not happenin’, Fury.”

“This man is a sadist, Wolverine. He won’t stop until someone stops him.”

Ororo met Logan’s eyes. “And he’s coming after our baby.”

Logan searched her face. Dismissively he said, “Give us a minute, Nick.”

“Time is of the essence,” Nick urged before he removed himself.

As soon as he was confident Nick was out of earshot Logan turned to Ororo. “No way in fuckin’ hell I’m leavin’ you.”

“Logan, you heard him. The man is a sick bastard that won’t stop. I don’t want to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulder, waiting for the next Weapon X strike.”

“’Ro--”

She took his hands, placing them over her stomach. “I know you want to go. I can see it in your eyes. Hell, I want to go…but I trust you to take care of this. Of us.”

Logan couldn’t deny he wanted to go and gut Cornelius, giving the psychotic doctor an up close and personal view of the adamantium he’d laced through Logan’s body was something he had thought about daily while trapped in cages. “I’m not leavin’ you unprotected.”

Ororo cast him a narrow eyed look. “Unprotected? Logan I can drop an F-5 tornado from the sky before you can say Fujita. I command the winds and the rains--”

He placed his hand over her mouth. “Look I know you’re badass, babe. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about you, but the fact is you don’t know what using your powers to their full extent will do to you, or the baby. I’m just not willin’ to risk it.”

“Then let Fury leave some guards.” Ororo suggested. “But don’t use me as an excuse not to do what we both know you want to do. Sitting idle and waiting for Weapon X to find us doesn’t rest well with me. Not at all.”

“They aren’t gonna find us.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D did.”

“I’ve had Nick up here before,” Logan explained.

“Yeah? Well now you’ve had Nick and at least two other operatives up here. Our location won’t remain secret forever, Logan, we just don’t have that kind of luck.”

He knew she was right.

She saw it in his eyes.

Without turning around Logan hollered, “When do we leave?”

“Soon as you’re ready!”

Logan caressed the backs of his knuckles along Ororo’s cheekbones. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

He turned towards the waiting operatives. “Give me a list of the men you personally vouch for. We don’t leave until they’re surrounding this place.”

Nick nodded. “Let’s move people!”

Logan returned his attention to Ororo. “I won’t be long. We don’t get results immediately I’m on my way home.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Logan pulled her into his arms. She had no idea what those words did to him. With more force of will then he knew he had Logan set himself away from her and began the business of readying for his departure.

Two hours and one more lingering kiss in the doorway and Logan was gone.