Prologue: Alkali Lake

But you always find a way
To keep me right here waiting
You always find the words to say
To keep me right here waiting
If you chose to walk away
I’d still be right here waiting
Searching for the things to say
To keep you right here waiting
~Staind


The low rumble of the Harley was soothing in a way she had never understood. It trembled the aches away, kept the thoughts at bay as she concentrated on its masculine grumble. Like a man, she mused. The steel and leather caressed, demanded in a loving, almost tender way.

Her gloved hands gripped the handlebars tightly, using every ounce of strength she had left to steer the massive bike along the tree lined highway. Sunlight peeked through the thick branches, winking at her, tempting the rider to smile.

A low hum lay just beneath the telltale growl of the Harley. Tires swept over blacktop, carrying her away. Her bottom ached in the seat, scarcely noticed as she worshipped the bike under her. Something like homage, she thought. Taking the same trip, on the same bike. Maybe it was something she had to do, or just maybe, she had finally lost what little of her sanity the last month tried to strip away.

Dark eyes flickered over the road ahead, checking for signs of life, of danger. Perhaps her paranoia was unfounded, but it would not hurt to be cautious. Finding the road and tree line surrounding it empty, she turned the bike carefully, slowing to ensure she made the curve gracefully.

Her body lowered slightly, using the weight of it to help steer the massive vehicle. The crisp air was tinged with the aftermath of a good rain. Heady scents of wet earth tickled her nostrils, reminding her of the unbridled nature all around. She wanted to be lost in it, to strip bare and race into the forest like some wild thing.

Resisting the urge, she straightened the bike and downshifted. It purred to a stop at her urgings, the engine idling as she pulled down the sturdy kickstand. Her eyes refused to look to the side, to the terrible beauty she knew she would find there. She wasn’t ready yet.

Would she ever be?

Thick leather gloves were torn from her hands, stuffed into the pack behind her. A hand unbuckled the helmet, the other racing through mussed white locks confined too long. The protective headgear was settled behind her as well, balanced on the edge of her pack.

She unzipped the leather jacket enough to breathe, to feel the cool air on her skin. Her feet, covered by heavy black boots, flattened to the slick pavement on either side of the bike, knees weak from the long drive and uncomfortable position.

Why had she come here? Was she so intent on mentally flogging herself for mistakes? Had she become so lost in her own regrets?

Tired eyes bored into the symbol lovingly rendered into the polished chrome beneath the speedometer. Trembling fingers traced the “X� superimposed with the traditional Harley-Davidson logo.

“Scott.�

Ororo Munroe forced herself to turn her head. Dark eyes shot one fast glance over the mystical beauty of the destroyed base, the unfathomably deep lake that now covered so much evil. Her lids slammed closed, the punch of guilt and sorrow a physical pain inside of her.

After several deep breaths, she managed to pry her eyelids open once more. This time, she kept her gaze on that ethereal water. It reflected the clear sky, giving the impression that heaven and earth were one in the same. She felt the stab of rage and hatred with her sorrow now, tamping it down to be dealt with another time.

Swinging her leg over the side of the bike, she stood and stretched. Bones crackled and popped, muscles groaned in agony. She felt grimy and her stomach grumbled angrily, but she continued to stare out at that clear water, knowing what sins it had cleansed, what terror it concealed.

That first step was the hardest, or so she tried to convince herself. Each felt the same, difficult and excruciating. Ororo let her hands clench into fists and release as she moved toward the water. The surface of it was calm, so smooth it looked almost like glass. She stepped off of the road, eyes intent and shoulders squared.

There was a gentle outcropping just meters from where she had parked the bike. Made of solid stone, it looked to have been part of the cliff face before the valley was covered in water. Her boots made soft squishing sounds as she stepped onto it, the grip of the soles preventing a dangerous slide.

Alone with the breeze picking at her hair, Ororo stood upon the edge of the outcropping, wondering at the symbolism. It did, after all, somewhat resemble an altar. Something made from earth to accept sacrifice.

Did you stand here? She questioned nothingness, knowing he was finally too far for her words to reach. Is this where your mourned her? Where she killed you?

That punch of pain came again, a startling blow from the inside that reflected outwardly. A gasp left her lips, one of surprise and restraint. Clouds darkened the skies, echoing in the unbroken water.

Knees weakening further, she let herself crumble. This is why she had come here, after all. She’d known that the day she left the mansion. Ororo let that stinging of her eyes come, let her emotions churn in the angry heavens. Here she was utterly alone, without the strain and pressure of the children, of the legacy that should have been his.

Broken weeping ricocheted through the mountains as the final barriers around her wounded heart came down. Tears stained her cheeks, though she kept her eyes on that deadly water. The tranquil surface shattered beneath the cold fury of rain, reminding her of the soul so splintered inside of her.

“SCOTT!�

A scream. Ororo rarely raised her voice, but she did so now. Turning her face to the heavens, she allowed grief to rule, to destroy what had been a beautiful day. Slumping forward under the awesome weight of her grief, she slammed both unprotected fists and forearms into the wet stone. It was so consuming that she fought for breath. The weeping, the screaming, the might of her unrestrained powers stole what little air she could retain for herself.

Raising her arms, she lifted herself with the entreating winds. They tore at her clothing, whipping it with her hair around her until she could lose herself in the simple fury. High above the earth and water, she spun in her element, mourning and hurting in a way that no other could dare understand.

Oh, how she had loved him. Admitting it now, to herself, to the elements, she felt nothing of the shame she carried while he lived. She screamed again, letting it echo in the gale that surrounded her. The water kicked up under the fingers of her powers, spraying her face and mixing with the freezing rain.

Though he belonged to the woman known as Jean Grey, Ororo had loved Scott Summers for more than half her life. She adored, respected that pride and confidence he carried with him. She could remember the light in his smiles, the low timbre of his voice.

She hated herself for it.

No matter how she told her heart that it was hopeless, that he had been married in theory if not law since the tender age of sixteen, her torch burned brightly. Ever considerate of his relationship with the red haired beauty, Ororo never told him. She never told anyone, locking it away as her little secret.

Charles had known. He mentioned it one time, so long ago it was likely forgotten before his death. She denied, he did not press. She wished he had. Perhaps he could have broken the vicious cycle, convinced her aching heart that there was nothing to pine for.

Of course, that had not worked either. The same unruly beast that thieved the light from Scott’s eyes took Charles Xavier, father, mentor, friend. Jean Grey. Ororo thrust herself higher into the air, hating even the sound of her name within the vaults of her mind.

She yearned to stop thinking about it, tried in vain to push it all aside.

Ororo, spinning above the water, grieved. Unchecked, unchallenged by the presence of human life, she let the elements loose. Tapping into her mutation, she hoped the emotional purgation would take with it some of her pain. Perhaps if she let herself feel it, all of it, she would wake one morning able to breathe.

But thoughts came back. She could not feel without them. Wondering if he was still there, lost beneath the water without his family, she let her hands drop.

The winds died. Ororo’s body fell like a stone above open air, plunging into the frigid water like a knife through butter. The temperature should have stolen her breath away, freezing her human body almost instantly.

Immunity to the cold prevented any of it from stopping her. Ororo dove for the murky depths, hands searching for any signs of him. Part of her knew this was a symbolic act, that she had no chance of actually finding him. She had to try.

But the water felt like her life now. Dark, deep, keeping her too sluggish to move on. She was lost in it, drowning and fighting as it pulled her deeper and deeper still. Nothing gave her light or life. She was trapped with grief, with hate until she was certain it would kill her.

When at last her lungs demanded breath, Ororo pulled in her mutation once more and thrust herself from the depths. She landed in a heap, abandoned by the shaking winds, upon the stone outcropping.

There, wet and aching, she lay upon the cool rock and wept.

~**~


As the Danger Room deconstructed the holographic program, Logan led the team through the open doors and into the hall. The younger mutant fighters known as the X-Men were battle worn and weary, muttering under their breath at the harsh training.

Logan, known also as Wolverine, ignored the bellyaching. After the events of the last month, he wasn’t letting anyone wear the X-Men leather uniforms without knowing how to fight. If he had it his way, they wouldn’t be fighting at all.

Fate and Life, however, seemed to have other plans. He knew it was necessary, that in a world filled with enemies on both sides of the proverbial fence they were the last line of defense. Though it went against his instincts, he continued to train these children to make war against those that would rather see them all dead.

Ushering the teens toward the upper levels of the mansion, Logan himself headed into the War Room. He gave the locked door of Cerebro barely a glance as he eased through the smooth metallic halls. A cigar found its way into his mouth, pinched between sharp canines and lit with an old Zippo lighter.

Storm hated his smoking, though she rarely called him out for it. She tolerated it, just as she handled everything else.

The wayward thought of their resident Headmistress and weather manipulator made him pause. She had been gone since early Friday morning, when she’d woken him from dreams of being the only male lost in a harem to brow beat him into watching the children while she was gone.

Clever wench had one-upped him, he admitted. Half-asleep and extremely annoyed, Logan had agreed to her request without really knowing what he was getting into. Storm merely said she was taking a weekend away. She offered not one word of explanation as to where she was going or why, nor had Logan thought to ask in his sleepy state.

It was Sunday evening and still no word came from their absent leader. He would have worried had it been in him, but he had so little left to give. She was stoic and steady, Storm wouldn’t abandon her responsibilities.

At least, he hoped not.

Once inside the office in the War Room, Logan tapped the computer screen to life and plopped heavily into the chair behind the desk. Storm usually let him have this space to himself, content with the upstairs office that had been Xavier’s. The entire mansion was linked by an intricate communication system, complete with video panels so they could speak without traveling the several floors between them.

Logan thought that they liked it that way. Neither of them wanted to be closer than they had to, tortured and consumed by their own thoughts and feelings.

It was easy to keep a woman like Storm at arm’s length. He just wished she would come home so he could escape the confines of the mansion for a few hours.

As if by unspoken agreement, one of them was always on the property. Though there were other adults, other teachers, either Storm or Wolverine was on hand at all times. Period.

Bringing up his Danger Room monitoring program to the computer screen, Logan revised the evening’s session and made several mental notes.

Iceman was getting cocky, but the kid was good. He looked out for his teammates, kept a cool head even when things started getting sticky. Shadowcat was excellent, her talents ranging from martial arts to complete control of her mutation. She worked well with Colossus, using his invulnerability and strength as assets.

All in all, the little team was pulling together. Even with the loss of Cyclops, Jean, and Rogue, they could hold their own. Logan was proud of them, not that he’d ever admit it.

Finished with his “work� for now, he headed back upstairs. The kitchen was filled with children fighting over dinner; the circus presided over by a watchful Colossus. Piotr Rasputin was patient with them all, ensuring students got something to eat. He nodded to Logan as the elder mutant walked by.

Cigar smoke trailing after him, Logan checked on the remainder of the children. Many had already eaten and wiled away the time doing homework or playing in the Rec Room. He waved to a few of them, acknowledging that some needed to see him, as though his presence were calming.

Once his rounds were complete, he moved to the outdoors, heading easily toward the gardens. He did not need to tell his feet where they were going. This daily ritual had begun with the day they’d put her into the ground, it was habit now.

Walking through the pristine gardens, Logan puffed on his heady Cuban. Mist lingered over the mansion and grounds, dusting everything that stood still long enough with a gentle spray of clean rain. Clouds were thick and heavy in the sky, looming with the easy threat of downpour if the conditions were right.

There was a sort of anticipation to that kind of thing, he thought. Before the true storm, the waiting and wondering was a sort of sweet torment. Part of him wanted the clouds to burst, to drench the world below. The other side wanted the gentle mist and fresh scent of a coming storm. The dueling sides were interesting, giving him brief pause before he rounded the corner of the garden.

Marie was crouched in front of the gravestones, cleaning off the thick stone slab that bore Scott Summers’ name. She hummed quietly, her delicately pale hands brushing at moist earth and windblown leaves.

Logan took a moment to smile at her turned back, wondering what she thought of when she hovered so near a place of death. Did she see hope in a place he could not?

“Hey.� The easy greeting was customary from the gruff mutant to his young friend.

She turned those soft hazel eyes on him, the white stripe in her dark hair seeming to glow in the fading light.

“Hi.� Marie replied in her thick Mississippi drawl.

Though she was no longer a mutant, having taken the Worthington cure during the attack on Alcatraz, she remained with her friends at Xavier’s. Though he knew the decision had bothered Storm, the leader of the X-Men had agreed to let Marie stay on.

He knew she was struggling to find herself, to salvage what was left of her relationship with Iceman, but she took it all in stride. In fact, he had rarely seen his friend happier.

“Thought I’d say hi,� she continued, turning back to Cyclops’ headstone. “I haven’t been out here much.�

“I don’t think they mind,� Logan said quietly as he stepped up beside her.

Crouching with Marie, he reached over to clear away a smudge of dirt marring the engraved name. He might not have agreed with Scott on many things, but he’d grudgingly respected the proud X-Man.

“I keep thinkin’,� Marie was saying as he focused on her again. “Bout that day they found us in Canada.�

“Huh.� Logan grunted for lack of anything else to say.

“You were knocked out, but I was awake,� she chuckled. “Cyclops talked a lot, trying to set me at ease, I think. He said that he knew a place we’d be safe, you an’ me. He wanted to help us.�

“He did,� her companion replied, his fingers touching her hand gently. It was a sign of affection to anyone, but touch had become important to Marie. Though it could make him uncomfortable, he tried to oblige her whenever possible.

“I know,� Marie nodded. “I still expect to see him in the garage, tinkerin’ with the bikes.�

With a pang, Logan admitted he did as well, just as he expected to hear the hum of the Professor’s wheelchair or catch the flavor of Jean’s perfume on the air.

Thinking of her, he glanced to the stone that bore her name. The grief and guilt came at him still, making the vice in his chest tighten and tighten. He couldn’t remember feeling this way in what few memories he had.

He hated it. Logan was somewhat certain he would give his adamantium to not feel it anymore. The pain was consuming, aching, worse than he felt when Jean had “died� the first time at Alkali Lake. He thought that the guilt had done that. He took her life and now paid the price for it.

“Any word from Storm?�

Bringing his thoughts back to the present at Rogue’s words, he shook his head.

“Nope.�

“Weird,� his friend replied, tossing a long auburn lock over her shoulder. “I’m worried about her.�

“She’s fine,� Logan assured her, squeezing her shoulder.

“No,� Rogue shook her head, looking back to the tombstones. “None of us are fine.�

Chapter One: Heartache

When you cried
I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you screamed
I’d fight away all of your fears
I’ve held your hand
Through all of these years
And you still have
All of me
~Evanescence


Pulling into the drive, she cut the engine of the motorcycle and walked it into the open garage. Children waved to her from their places on the lawn, where the grass was soft and the breeze brought to them the sweet scents of summer. She returned the gesture with a raised arm, rewarding her pupils with a small smile.

The drive back to Westchester had done her some good. Mourning for something lost, something she never really had, did a number on the control of her mutation. Though she promised Logan she would return by Monday, she took an extra day just to pull herself together.

It wasn’t going to be easy. Running this school had never been her dream. Scott had always wanted it, been groomed to take over when their mentor was gone. Ororo was pleased to just have a place here, to teach and be taught. Ambition had never really factored into it.

Now she bore the weight of his legacy. How could a person live up to such pressure? She felt so horribly alone and lost in her own demons that she feared for her sanity on more than one occasion.

“And just where in the name of Christ have you been?�

Not surprised by his harsh tone, Ororo settled the motorbike in its space beside the Mazda and patently ignored him. She pulled open the straps of her pack before removing her gloves and protective helmet. The Wolverine was just going to have to deal with her absence, she thought callously. She couldn’t explain her every whim to him.

Shaking her flattened hair, she settled the helmet on the bike seat, taking several seconds to gather herself together. In a signature move Cyclops had once called “’Roro’s Ice Shield�, she drew a chilled calm around her, separating herself from the man glowering heatedly at her back.

Grabbing her pack and tucking the helmet under her arm, she finally decided that she could face him. Though Wolverine was her only ally here at the school, she felt so little for him. Had he relented in his doomed quest to possess the mad Jean Grey when Ororo had faced him down in his room, she might have retained some feeling for him.

Respect he had. He earned in with every day he remained with the X-Men. Every lesson taught, every grunt of agreement and steady locked gaze told her that he was committed. But she didn’t trust him. With the children that had been his savior’s dream? Yes. Anything else? Never.

Her eyes were dry and without the rim of swelling, which could betray weeping, when she faced him. A soft sigh that never left her throat resounded in her mind. He was unchanged. Even in the wake of such hollow and debilitating loss, Logan looked exactly the same as he had the day she and Scott plucked him from the wintry wilds of the North. She wondered, with some heat, if anything could change the implacable Wolverine.

“Something came up.� Her reply to his growled inquiry was short; a tone most knew was a warning to back off.

Wolverine, however, seemed to have skipped that day in People Studies.

“Wait just a damn minute,� he snarled as she brushed past him. Many would never turn their back on an angry Wolverine, but Storm felt the immediate need to vacate the garage. If she didn’t, she might lose what little control over her emotions she retained.

That was unthinkable.

She moved into the main house, deliberately swinging the door behind her so that Logan had to thrust both hands out or be bashed in the skull. Ororo conceded that bashing his metal-plated cranium would likely splinter the doorframe before rendering him any real harm. It did irritate him, though, and that was worth risking the door’s life alone.

Slinging her pack over one shoulder, she placed the helmet on the rack beside Scott’s before heading down the hall. Her thick leather gloves were torn from her hands as she peeked into each common room, looking in on the children she left in Wolverine’s less than capable hands.

“Where is Jimmy?� She asked of her unwanted companion.

“I don’t know,� he grunted with some bite in his tone. “We need to talk.�

“Not right now,� Ororo replied without missing a beat. She hit the staircase at a quick pace somewhere between a saunter and a sprint.

Wolverine was in hot pursuit. His longer stride kept him right on her heels, anger and irritation radiating from his very pores. Oh, Storm knew she manipulated him into watching the children. Informing a very half-asleep Logan that she was leaving had effectively imprisoned him on the grounds while she was gone.

But what choice did she have? If they had talked about it like rational adults, he would have won. Logan always won. That got under Ororo’s skin in the worst way. She didn’t want him to win, to fight. She wanted him to leave her the hell alone.

By the time she reached the corridor that led to her room, her grip was slipping. She banged her hip into the door, sliding inside and turning to face her unlikely partner.

“Storm…�

“I said not now.�

With that, she slammed the bedroom door. Ororo heard him swear violently, even as she rested her back against the door, gripping the knob to keep steady. She didn’t want this. This wasn’t her destiny, her fight. She wanted to tear off into the wild, to be free from the pain that every stone of the mansion filled her with.

Choking back a sob, willing the skies to remain clear, she let her head fall back against the closed door. Part of her mourned for lives lost, part of her hated them for leaving her all alone. Emotions ran through her with the force of a tidal wave, crashing through carefully prepared defenses until she thought the pain would kill her.

Mutation tapped into those turbulent emotions and rain clouds swirled through the previously perfect sky. Unable to hold on any longer, her emotional purgation still too close to the surface, she let it come. Clouds cracked in the heavens, a rumble of thunder covering the soft sob that caught in her throat. Rain pelted the windows, joined by the incensed cries of children whose outdoor activities were interrupted.

Giving in to the pain, to the fear, Ororo let her body slide down the wall until she crumbled to the floor. Her hand still gripped the doorknob as she dissolved into tears that were lost on the winds.

~**~

On the other side of her door, Logan was leaning helplessly against the cool wood. He heard her sob, smelled the sudden change in the weather. A small part of him wanted to force the door open, to make her face him. The larger, dominant part ordered him to let her be.

What did he know about her feelings? Obviously she’d lost her family in the events of Alcatraz Island. There wasn’t anything he could do to soothe her pain, to lock it all away. If she wanted to do this alone, face everything on her own, who was he to stop her?

With a sigh, he pushed off from the wall and headed down the hall. The rain would drive the kids inside. He’d give Storm another afternoon off. He could take it out on her later.

~**~


Rogue quietly opened the office door the day after Storm’s return and poked her head inside curiously. To her surprise – and relief – the weather manipulator was standing behind the desk, looking over paperwork idly.

The elder mutant was rocking a sharp, feminine black suit in ways most women could never hope to match. Her skirt caressed bare knees, legs seeming impossibly long when aided by black pumps. The jacket was buttoned at her waist, revealing a splash of color in the form of her light, cerulean blouse.

It wasn’t surprising that Ororo Munroe was the envy of every young female student at the school. In fact, many conversations were conducted in the quiet after lights out about just that subject. Teenage girls speculated on how, exactly, the mutant known as Storm could seem so stylish and classy with little effort.

Her hair was getting longer, but the dark streaks still added youthfulness to her wise face. Rogue smiled at her mentor as she entered the room without knocking. Storm had something of an “open door� policy at the school and encouraged anyone to call on her at any time.

“Marie,� Storm greeted with an easy smile as she looked up. “Good morning.�

“Hi,� the Southern former-mutant replied, returning the smile. “Welcome home.�

“Thank you,� Ororo said, her dark eyes warming slightly. “Come in, sit down.�

Taking the invitation immediately, Rogue moved to the nearest chair and plopped into it. Through thick and thin, one thing remained between Storm and Rogue. It was the elder woman’s hand that reached for hers in the wintry wilds of Canada. Storm’s gloved fingers had grasped hers, filling the terrified young girl with strength she’d thought long gone.

In that simple, desperate connection, something forged between the two that would take God himself to break.

Naturally, this connection made Ororo’s mental and emotional armor easy to see through. Though the makeup she’d meticulously applied covered the dark circles under her eyes, it could not disguise the redness there nor the hollow, haunted look barely concealed in the ebony depths.

Rogue respected her friend’s privacy, but the urge to press her to talk had her biting through her tongue. Keeping everything locked up inside wasn’t good, as she’d told Logan a million times. She hoped, somewhat morbidly, that Storm’s sudden trip brought her comfort. Marie hoped against hope that Storm had gone to the middle of nowhere and flipped out. It would have done her a lot of good, Marie thought.

Watching her friend carefully, Rogue smiled when Storm set her file down before settling into the chair behind her desk. Resting covered elbows on the arms of the chair, she folded her hands together and idly twisted her chair to and fro. She was relaxed, well as relaxed as the weather goddess ever got.

“How are you holding up?� Storm asked, tilting her head to regard her friend curiously.

“Life’s a bitch,� Marie answered honestly.

Storm rewarded her with a genuinely fond smile. “Truer words, my dear.�

Before they could continue, a light, almost nervous knock sounded on the closed office door.

“Come in,� Ororo called, giving her friend a long-suffering sigh and impish wink.

Jimmy came inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Rogue grinned at the young boy, whom had come to the X-Men after a short stint at home with his parents. When Jimmy told his parents that Worthington Labs would no longer pay for his “services� they demanded someone else take him.

Storm, in full leader mode, intervened smoothly. Jimmy was given a full scholarship to the school and effectively earned a place among the “freaks� of Mutant High. He was excellent at “powers-allowed-Dodgeball�, currently holding an undefeated record.

“Jimmy,� Storm said with a grin, beckoning him closer. “Is everything all right?�

“Depends on your outlook,� the boy said with quiet humor.

Though he was slowly coming out of his shell – aided and abetted by most of the upperclassmen – Jimmy still rarely spoke above a whisper. His smiles were always cautious, tense, as though he expected his new friends to turn on him unexpectedly.

Or for men in white coats and needles to appear, stealing him from the bit of happiness he had found at last.

Though Rogue benefited from Jimmy’s cure, she knew it still bothered him. Several mutants were cured without their permission and the guilt tore at their newest member’s already delicate heart.

He was loosening up, Rogue decided as Storm stood to give him one of her rare and overwhelming hugs.

“Who’s doing what to whom?� Storm asked when they parted, giving her young charge a small smile.

“I’m not entirely sure how it started, Iceman and Colossus are arguing in the foyer. Artie looked a little guilty and asked that someone come get you.� He grinned. “Looks like they wanted to welcome you home properly.�

Storm chuckled at this, but Rogue’s carefully tuned ears caught the tinge of sorrow and weariness in the usually light, airy sound.

The younger woman frowned, making a mental note to talk to Logan about this. Everything was eating away at their leader, someone they just couldn’t afford to lose right now.

As Storm followed Jimmy out of the office, Rogue stared at the portrait of Charles Xavier behind the desk. She shook her head, spreading her hands and whispering into the sudden quiet.

“None of us are all right,� she told him without shame. “Especially not her.�

Silence was her only answer and after several minutes of staring at his benevolent smile, Rogue left the room to face her day.

~**~


It wasn’t uncommon for Kitty Pryde to find herself surrounded by men.

On a Friday night, it was all too easy to slip into the Recreation Room with Bobby, Pete, Artie, Jimmy, and Warren. They would destroy one another on the X-Box or yank out an ancient board game, generally hanging out until midnight, which was the weekend curfew.

The scene was simple – with the unusual addition of Rogue – for the night after Storm returned to the mansion. The teens were gathered around the television, in various states of bed-dress, while they indulged in an action-movie-marathon.

Bobby and Marie, unhindered by her mutation any longer, were cuddled close as Matt Damon battled the CIA as the absolutely delicious Bourne. Jimmy and Artie were lounging on the floor on either sides of a bowl of popcorn, making appreciative comments as often as they could.

Warren Worthington, whom had joined the X-Men despite reconciling with his father, took up the expanse of a battered armchair, his wings twitching occasionally. He felt Kitty’s stare and glanced to her, giving his new friend a slow, cheerful smile.

As for Kitty, she found herself in somewhat of a quandary. With Bobby and Rogue all but humping on the sofa, she had found refuge on the matching loveseat. Unfortunately, Peter Rasputin had no more desire than she to put up with the overly tactile couple and plopped into the space beside her.

Kitty swallowed thickly, trying to concentrate on the current car chase, but Pete was too damn close for comfort. She would freely admit that he was adorable, especially when clad in a white tank and his favorite Snoopy pajama pants. His bare feet were perched on the edge of the loveseat, his knees drawn up to his chest. Dark hair fell over the back of the sofa as he relaxed against it.

Feeling Warren stare at her, Kitty gave him a small glare. He covered his mouth with one hand, trying to hide his very amused smirk. Since losing what was turning into a beautiful friendship with Bobby, Warren became her closest confidante.

Not that Kitty blamed the cute little Iceman. His relationship with Rogue was more important to him than ever, but she felt a little slighted. She’d not been trying to sleep with the guy or anything, she mentally fumed. Everyone needed a friend.

“Katya?�

Peter’s sudden call of her name – in Russian as he explained years ago – made her gulp and turn just a little too quickly. Warren soft laughter was going to be retaliated against. Soon.

“Yeah?� She asked of her companion as casually as she could.

“Would you like another Pepsi?� His question was completely innocent, completely oblivious. For some reason, his virtue only made him that much more adorable.

“Uh, yeah.� She handed him her empty glass, thanking him with a strained smile. He nodded once before hopping out of the seat and moving into the kitchen.

Kitty deflated against the chair, tossing Warren a helpless look. He shrugged, wings rustling against the back of his chair. With a sigh, Kitty turned back to the movie, trying to pay attention to Damon’s delicious backside rather than her turbulent libido.

Before Pete returned with their refills, the mansion’s front door slammed closed. Kitty winced, wondering if it was Logan. He’d probably ream them for still being awake, an hour past curfew. They could usually get away with it, so long as they were quiet. Storm, to their relief, was already asleep upstairs.

Kitty, Bobby, and Marie all leaned back against their sofas, trying to get a look at whom had just entered the mansion. Kitty could have sworn she heard a female giggle and shot a look to her companions.

“Shut up, woman,� Wolverine was growling. “Don’t wake the kids.�

Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock, even as Kitty and Marie broke into soundless giggles.

“You didn’t say you had kids,� came the slurred reply of an unfamiliar woman.

Dead curious now, Kitty crawled across the loveseat and leaned over the arm, trying to get a look at Logan’s…“friend�. The others were scrambling to see as well, the movie completely forgotten behind them.

When Pete appeared, Kitty waved him over silently, urging him to be quiet. Seeming to catch on Pete deposited their drinks on the nearby pool table and jogged over, glancing curiously at his friends.

Kitty pointed to the foyer door that was only open a crack, just enough to let a beam of light through. They could see the outline of a man and woman embracing, silhouetted in the hallway light. Wolverine’s signature Stetson was on the woman’s head, his hands on places that were just a touch past the “friendly� line.

Controlling her giggles, Kitty leaned further, all but climbing on a highly amused Colossus to get a better look at this latest development.

“Not my kids,� their teammate said gruffly. “This is a school. Now hush.�

“A school?� The woman giggled as Logan lifted her into his arms, carrying her down the hall. “I never had a teacher like you.�

Wolverine’s reply was too soft, too far down the hall to be heard by the salivating teens. Once they were sure their teacher was not going to hear them, Kitty turned immediately to Marie, her mouth open in shock.

“Oh. My. God.�

“Shit,� Bobby cut in. “If Storm catches him with a girl in his room…�

Pete chuckled quietly. “That will be quite a sight.�

Startled that his voice was so close to her, Kitty looked over at him sharply. Pete’s face was scant inches from hers and his massive hands were warm on her waist. In her haste to see what Wolverine was up to, Pete had apparently been forced to grip her, to keep the curious mutant from falling.

Heat crept into her cheeks, making her cast her eyes to the floor. Warren was laughing again, she hoped at whatever it was Artie had just said. Pete’s eyes were on Kitty, gauging her quietly as she slowly slipped from his grasp.

“Thanks.�

“Anytime.�

~**~


Logan tumbled onto the bed in a mess of limbs and partially removed clothing. The raven beauty in his arms had a name, but he couldn’t rightly remember what it was. Her mouth was on his neck, suckling and licking until his eyes crossed from the pleasure.

A night at Harry’s didn’t usually end up like this, but two pool games and a lot of liquor later meant that his inhibitions – what little he had – were down around his ankles. Hell, if Storm could vanish for the weekend without explanation, he could certainly find his own solace his own way.

Her body was warm, willing, filled with feminine curves and the delights of flesh. Here nothing could matter save animalistic lust and pure, primal pleasure. She knew, as well as he did, that there wasn’t anything else between them.

She tore her mouth from his to rip his t-shirt off even as he flicked open the button fly of her jeans. She giggled somewhat girlishly at his haste, the sound morphing into a groan as heated flesh crashed together.

He still had his boots on and was too far-gone to kick them off. Logan worked his own jeans to his knees, grinning ferociously when she parted her thighs in offering. One deep thrust and he was inside, their panted breath mingling in the darkness of his room.

His pace was immediate and bruising, forcing thoughts of death and children and sorrow from his tortured mind. For a few minutes, he would know some goddamn peace. That’s all he wanted, just a moment to get away.

She clenched around him, long nails tearing at the naked flesh of his shoulders. His hands slid up her back, bringing her closer until he could feast on the swells of breast. The girl was chanting to God, her words a plea for more. Logan obliged, drawing her knees up so he sank further inside of her.

It was over in a hot flash of brilliant light, their bodies tensing before succumbing to the limp, languid afterglow. The girl rolled over, releasing him and promptly dropped into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

Logan regarded her for a moment, chuckling as she lightly snored on his bed. He divested himself of his boots and jeans, moving with unashamed nakedness through his private room. Deciding his companion would feel better unclothed, he quickly worked her bra off and tossed her panties – which were snagged on one ankle – onto the floor.

He took a cigar and moved to the window, looking out into the darkness. Body still thrumming with post-coital release, he inhaled blissful nicotine and braced one arm on the wall.

Storm would probably kill him if she knew he’d brought a woman home, but he couldn’t possibly care less. Maybe his brash move would invoke her wrath…anything against the silence she’d gifted him with upon her return.

Oh, she was still the strict, loving headmistress, but every time Logan looked at her, he was reminded that her family was gone. Every day, a little piece of her seemed to die inside and all he could do was watch it happen.

Disturbed by his thoughts, by the fact that he’d broken his own vow to not delve into that shit tonight, he shook his head. Whatever was going on in Storm’s head was her own business. Granted, he did have the upperclassmen watching her closely. Kitty was concerned that Storm might try something…permanent, so they were careful around her.

Logan knew better, but thought it best to go along with the nervous kitten. Storm was loyal and responsible above all else. She would never leave the children behind, no matter how badly she was taking things. He was confident that in time she would really pull herself up, dust her ass off, and move on.

Yeah, he thought with a drag on his cigar, she just needed time.

~**~

“Jesus!�

Two rooms away, Ororo woke with a start. Her body was coated in sweat, mind whirling from the embrace of realistic nightmares. She rolled on her bed, burying her head in her pillow as Scott’s face continued to haunt her weary mind.

“Scott…just leave me alone. Stop haunting me.�

She controlled another embarrassing crying jag, calming her breathing as Henry had taught her years ago. It would take time, she remembered him saying clearly just weeks ago. She would be lost to nightmares and regret while she mourned.

Hank, however, had no idea that she’d lost the man she loved.

Feeling like the worst sort of betrayer, she bounced out of her bed to pace in her night things. Back at Alkali Lake, she could admit to her feelings without fear. At home, just the admission to herself made her feel traitorous and wrong. She harbored her feelings for so long, tucking them away even as Scott fell for Jean.

I don’t know what it is. His voice echoed in her mind, a conversation long forgotten. She just stirs me up, ‘Roro. God, if this is falling in love, I don’t want to stop.

Ororo looked to the ceiling as rain pelted the rooftop. Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks, sorrow mingling with rage. Scott loved her so truly, so deeply, and for his love he was given death. Trembling as emotion rolled over her yet again, Ororo turned sharply to glare at a large, framed picture of Jean from years before.

It had been snowing, she remembered. Jean always loved snow, always asked Ororo to make sure there was a good two feet blanketing the ground on Christmas morning. In the photograph, Scott was laughing at something Jean had said, the two of them staring at one another with forever in their eyes.

She screamed. Ororo could no longer control herself. Rushing across the room, she ripped the frame from the wall before spinning on the balls of her feet. Shouting something she would never remember, she brought the frame down on the post of her bed, shattering the glass with the force of her rage.

Not enough. The simple destruction could not assuage the pain in her heart. She brought the photograph down again and again, fighting with demons inside that she knew she could never be rid of. Her fury broke the silence of night, threatening to wake the students that slept peacefully on her floor. She could not bring herself to worry if they would come to the door. She tossed the photo aside and grasped another, bringing it down with force on the rounded wooden post until her floor was littered with a thousand glass fragments.

Chapter Two: Going Under

Don't want your hand this time I'll save myself
Maybe I'll wake up for once
Not tormented daily defeated by you
Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom
I'm dying again
~Evanescence


It was the shatter of glass that brought Logan from his lounging stance against the window. His ears prickled, homing in on the direction the sound was coming from. Body poised for immediate action, he stilled completely, the cigar pinched between thumb and forefinger.

Sobbing. Soft, heartbreaking weeps accompanied the thrash of wood and tinkle of broken glass. Concentrating, he realized with a clench in his gut that the noise was coming from Storm’s bedroom just down the hall.

Without pausing to think about it, he turned and scooped up his discarded jeans. Sweat still slicked over his body, he yanked the denim onto his legs, hoisting the waist to his hips and zipping the fly. He didn’t bother with the button as he strode purposefully toward the bedroom door. His companion was still peacefully unaware in her drunken stupor. Hopefully she would remain that way while he checked on the crying goddess down the hall.

Suddenly clammy hands opened the bedroom door, one scowl sending curious Artie and Jimmy scurrying back into their bedroom. The breaking glass was drawing a crowd, but Logan was big and mean enough to frighten away any audience. When their shared bedroom door clicked closed, Logan turned his gaze to the dimly lit hallway. A sliver of moonlight landed almost eerily on the polished wood of Storm’s bedroom door.

He paused, contemplating as the crying increased, the delicate clinking of glass raining on the hardwood floor never ceasing. He could hear a dull thud now, as though wood were striking wood, as though someone were beating their demons out in the dead of night. Logan didn’t know if he should take those scant steps toward her bedroom. What did he know of losing his family? Who was he to drag her out of whatever funk she’d found herself in?

Why should he want to chase her demons away with a flash of adamantium?

But he moved anyway. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Logan padded on bare, silent feet to the woman haunted behind closed doors. He didn’t ask, didn’t knock as he twisted the knob to open the bedroom door. Whatever possessed him to check on her, to respond to what she likely thought was private mourning, made him slip quietly into the dark room.

Sharp eyes caught movement immediately. Storm was at the foot of her bed, glass and blood littering her floor. Outside, the wind shook trees and forced clouds to scatter. Through the illumination of her open window, he saw before him a woman enraged.

She clutched what looked to be a picture frame in her hands, beating it without recourse or mercy against the bedpost. The glass shattered and fell, the frame creaking with the might of her grip. Tears ran unchecked down dark cheeks, her hair a wild tangle of white and gray.

For reasons he would never stop to fathom, Logan’s heart twisted in his chest. The tang of blood told him she was cut, likely from the glass forgotten on the floor. Several fragments of wood were discarded, their photos shredded and frames bent. Storm had been at this with the zeal of a fanatic and the fury of a woman scorned. Logan couldn’t so much as breathe, moved by the simple knowledge that someone could miss another human being to the point of mindless, encompassing rage.

She did not notice him as she tossed the frame in her hands. Logan’s brow arched as she snatched up another, beating it without mercy against the battered bedpost. She was whimpering, crying, speaking in broken, weeping tones that could destroy a man. He would never know what she said, only that he could feel the ache, see it in every flex of muscle as her arms brought frame against wood with immeasurable pain.

Only when he noticed the bright streak of blood on her arm, the scent of it tickling his nostrils, did he move. Not bothering to feel shame at intruding, he stepped through the glass and wood, reaching up to take the frame from her hands.

Ororo startled, whirling on him as though she would destroy him next. Logan tossed the frame over his shoulder, wrapping his hands around her wrists in a gesture to dominate, to force her immediate submission. Dark eyes, swimming with the tears unshed, flashed momentary anger, which was directed at his interruption.

He did not speak, unsure if he could even form a coherent sentence. Whatever made him come to her was as unwelcome as the flash of love Jean gifted him with all those months ago. It hit just as acutely, just as strongly; a sleeper he hadn’t known was inside him. He was powerless against it, much as Jean’s smile weakened him.

The anger faded slowly as seconds ticked by unnoticed. Two sets of dark eyes locked together in the sudden silence, their breath barely shifting the heavy air around them. The pain returned; he saw it as clearly as the tears streaking her face. She was trying to battle it back, to replace it with anger he couldn’t possibly understand.

She collapsed. Logan shifted his hold from wrist to elbow, letting her fall to the floor gently. She did not move to embrace him, but folded slowly, quietly to the destroyed bedroom floor. Logan knelt in front of her, watching as her head tilted downward, her eyes closing as though to block it all out, to lock everything back inside where it belonged.

Logan released her deliberately. He wasn’t one to comfort and she knew that. She drew her arms around herself, as though to ward him off. Logan crouched more comfortably, draping his arms over his own knees while he studied the tortured face of the woman he only knew as Storm.

“Leave me alone.�

Her whisper was just as broken as her face, but there was steel beneath it as she fought to control herself.

“Ok.�

Assured that she would be all right, Logan stood. She did not move to stop him or make any attempt to speak. Turning his back on her, Logan strode to the bedroom door. She was a grown woman, able to make her own decisions. She did not want to be comforted. He would leave her be.

At the door, he looked back over his shoulder. Storm reminded him of an island, sitting in a tearful mess in the center of her destruction. Unreachable. She was completely unreachable. For some reason, part of him wanted her to stay that way.

“Clean those cuts.�

With that, he opened the door and stepped into the silent hall. The door closed with a soft, but resonating click. Shaking his head at her, at his stupid impulse to go in there in the first damn place, Logan went back to his own room.

That was how they liked it, he thought as he slid into bed beside his snoring companion. They liked space and doors between them.

It was better that way.

~**~


In the harsh light of morning, Ororo was well into her third cup of coffee, the cordless phone held to her ear. She tapped sculpted fingernails on the tile of the kitchen counter, listening to the comforting lift and lilt of Henry McCoy’s voice.

Her right hand bore a slender bandage, the only outward sign of her conniption from the night before. She cleaned up the glass herself, preserved the photographs and tossed the decimated frames. Her feet bore several tiny cuts, but she still slipped them into sassy black boots beneath tailored ebony trousers.

Composed as ever, she oversaw breakfast and shooed the children to their classes. Ororo never held one of her own classes before ten in the morning. She preferred to relax before the day geared up in earnest. Now, however, she used the hours between six and ten to take care of the administrative responsibilities dumped on her by the passing of Charles and Scott.

Two months of hard recruiting gave her a full staff, but she was still too raw to allow the others to encroach on her late mentor’s territory. There were times she regretted leaving the school open. She could have faded back into the wilds of Tanzania, returning to her mother’s tribe and the blissful simplicity that a village life afforded her. War and peace would be forgotten, lost in the tide of regaining the person she was before coming to Xavier.

The moment, however, would pass. She would catch sight of Angel laughing with Kitty or Rogue holding hands with Bobby and shame filtered through doubt. Charles would have never left her to the school unless he knew they would be cared for. Could she turn her back on the man she loved as a father? No. All she could do now was mush on, protect the dream, fight for peace.

Time would heal her wounds, she had to believe that. Someday, the nightmares would become distant memory, the pain dulling to a bearable twinge. Her love for Scott, she feared, might not ever leave. If she were honest with herself, she didn’t want it to. Loving Scott, no matter how unrequited, was simply part of who she was.

“How are Elizabeth and Sean working out, my dear?� Henry was asking through the telephone.

His duties occupied him Washington too often to be of much help to Ororo and the school, but the reconnection in the face of battle renewed their strong friendship. He called as often as he could, giving her details of how his diplomatic war was waging on Capitol Hill.

“Fine,� Ororo answered him somewhat cheerfully. The cheer was a lie, she knew it. She hoped he didn’t.

“They were highly recommended by Doctor Mac Taggert.� Her friend went on with his usual polish. “I do hope they are settling in.�

Thinking of Scott and Jean’s replacements was difficult enough, but Betsy and Sean were capable teachers. Kind, intelligent, and patient. The burden placed on Ororo’s unsteady shoulders lessened slightly with their coming to the school. Ororo liked them both well enough, Betsy’s easy, serious demeanor and Sean’s boisterous, jovial laugh, but they could not replace what she lost.

“The children seem to like them,� Ororo offered, wanting to halt this topic of conversation. Friendship, however, demanded more. “I’m very pleased with their progress. I hope they will stay on.�

This appeased her friend. “Good. I know your workload has been heavy.�

“I’m handling it, Hank.�

“Yes, I never knew a woman that could juggle so well as you, my friend.�

A smile, fleeting and unbidden, crossed her lips at this. “Charmer.�

“Minx,� he tossed back airily. “Will you have time for dinner when you come to Washington next week?�

“Washington?� Ororo frowned. She was forgetting something.

“The hearing, Ororo,� Hank paused, then spoke with humor in his voice. “Am I so easily forgotten?�

She remembered with a pained twist in the heart. The Senate was meeting to discuss the events of Alcatraz Island, the ill-fated cure, and the fate of Xavier’s School. Though Charles protected the school’s reputation in his life, the long-arm he’d carried was gone now. Exposed, the school was topic of discussion during many of the lawmakers’ meetings.

Several insisted the school be put under governmental control, others fought back that it was a private institution. Right-wing conservatives wanted it dismantled. Ororo and Henry were fighting, tooth and nail, to keep the school open, as a haven for mutants. Reporters were turned away easily after the mansion’s security measures were brought up to scratch.

Electric fences were essential in keeping snooping to a minimum and a court order restricted anyone from coming within five hundred feet of the grounds. The children were safe, for now. Ororo did not want to think about what would happen if the school were to close, the students left to twist in the changing winds.

Ororo hoped she could find the strength to put the millions Charles left to her to good use. If she had to start all over in Albania, then by God, she would.

“I’m sorry,� she apologized quickly. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, but I’d love to have dinner with you.�

“Excellent.� Hank’s infectious grin was audible. “Perhaps Trish will tag along, is that agreeable?�

“As I haven’t seen her in close to a year, of course.� Ororo felt herself grin at the thought of Hank’s plucky, unpredictable girlfriend. “We’ll make an evening of it.�

“Try to not worry about the hearing, my dear,� Hank continued. “It will all work out.�

“I know.� She nodded, sighing a little. “Somehow, it always does.�

At that exact moment, Logan sauntered into the kitchen. Ororo felt her stomach clench and resolutely stared at him. His brow hitched at the phone in her hand. She mouthed “Hank� to which he gave her a rare, true grin.

“Tell Furball I said hey.�

“Logan says hey,� Ororo repeated faithfully. “Hank says hello.�

“How is he doing?� Hank asked her as Logan skirted the counter, slid past Ororo and made for the coffee pot.

Aware that Logan was likely listening in, she deflected. “Fine. Will you pick me up at the airport on Tuesday?�

“Of course,� Hank answered easily. “Do you know when your flight gets in?�

“I will have to check…� she trailed off as Logan moved around her again.

A buxom brunette had just entered the kitchen, her features unfamiliar and clothing rumpled. Ororo felt her hand tighten on the phone, her eyes narrowing as the woman greeted Logan with a casual smile that betrayed intimacy.

“Hank, I have to call you back.�

Alarm immediately covered his trademark cheer. “Is everything all right?�

“No.� She answered shortly as Logan allowed the woman to kiss his lips. “I’ll call you back.�

“Oror--�

Cutting her dear friend off, she ended the call with her thumb, staring in something akin to shock as Logan sat easily at the table. His “friend� was opposite him now, yawning as though Ororo was not even in the room. The space between table and counter allowed Ororo to spot a bare, feminine foot sneaking under the cuff of Logan’s jeans.

It was obvious to any astute human being that this woman had spent the night in the mansion, likely under Logan’s invitation. From the casual, intimate way she was playing footsie it wasn’t a long leap to think they’d slept together.

But he’d come to her last night, she thought angrily. Unwelcome, unwanted, he’d stopped her self-destructive tirade. She did not want his comfort, or his damned presence most days. She was perfectly fine pretending he didn’t exist when they were holed up in their separate corners. They were solitary creatures, Storm and Wolverine, with volatile tempers. Staying out of one another’s way kept the peace in their little family.

Angry that he’d seen her break, that he’d parade his personal life in front of her when Jean was barely cold, Ororo took several deep breaths.

“And you are?�

The question was simple, but positively dripped with everything good manners prevented her from saying.

“Chloe,� the girl said, looking up as though she’d just seen Ororo. “I’m a friend of Logan’s.�

Chloe. How ridiculously trite. “Ororo Munroe,� she said, reigning in her sarcastic inner voice. “I run this school.�

“Weird name,� the girl said flippantly. “Did your parents not like you?�

“My mother was born in Africa,� Ororo shot back, her hackles rising. “It is an ancestral name. She died when I was five.�

“Oh,� Chloe said without a hint of remorse. “Sorry.�

“Think nothing of it.�

Something in her tone or stance made Logan look up from his perusal of the daily paper. Amber eyes raked over her in one calculating glance. She avoided his stare, boring holes into the woman sitting at the kitchen table.

Twenty-five at most, the girl was lovely in a classic way. Her heart-shaped face showed off almond-shaped eyes of deep, true blue. Her wide, supple mouth curved easily into a smile beneath a long, slender nose. Apple cheeks and a slight cleft in her chin. Ororo wanted to roll her eyes as she glanced over the curvy, hourglass frame. Of course Logan would choose her from the selection available to him.

She reminded Ororo painfully of Jean. It wasn’t in her looks so much as the mannerisms, the simple, glowing look in her eyes.

Ororo suddenly wanted to be sick.

“Logan, when you have a moment – after you’ve seen your friend out – I need to speak with you.�

“Something wrong, Storm?�

“Yes.�

She snatched up her coffee cup and swept from the room, a migraine building in her temples.

~**~


Justin Timberlake was crooning about summer love to an easy dance beat through ridiculously loud speakers as Kitty took her fists to a vinyl bag. Her long chestnut ponytail was tangled and clumpy with the sweat that poured down her face and back.

No matter what was happening in the mansion, Kitty could find solace alone. Though her open, friendly personality told most she was an extrovert, Kitty liked to keep things locked inside. She mused that she had more in common with Storm and Wolverine than they thought. All three of them were horrible about emotional purgation.

Bringing her right leg up, she swiftly kicked out at the knee, catching the imaginary opponent in the ribcage. One thing Kitty did well was fight. She reveled in her mutation, in the freedom of being different, no matter what it cost her.

After the incident at Alcatraz Island, Kitty’s parents pulled the biggest bonehead move in the history of stubborn people. They offered her an ultimatum. Leave the school and hide her mutation, or don’t come home.

Obviously, Kitty opted for the latter.

Though it hurt, the loss of her parents on top of the three dead X-Men, she was determined to keep her place on the team. She’d earned it, damn it. While she entered her first year of college – largely through correspondence courses offered online – she was training to stay in top form with the X-Men.

She begged her parents to understand what this place meant to her. She loved the mansion with it’s wide corridors, polished antiques and technologically advanced lower levels. Kitty could think of nowhere else she ever wanted to be. One day, years from now, she hoped to take on the mantle of a teacher as well as X-Woman.

Why couldn’t they understand that?

Justin was bringing sexy back now, making Kitty’s fists slam against the bag with more speed. She liked music, loved to let it sink in until it drowned out all thought but bass and beat. Perhaps it was more real to her than anything. Someone who could walk through walls tended to favor something less than tangible. Music was the perfect outlet.

She grunted with the tune, her mouth curving into a sinister smile. Her fists and feet hit the bag on beat, driving the pain from her heart for a moment, at least.

Kitty missed the Professor. He was her rock, the fixture that would never leave. Since the first time he’d wheeled into her parent’s living room, Kitty was his dedicated disciple. Knowing that he was fighting for peace, for equality, warmed a part of Kitty that she wasn’t sure would return since the onset of her mutation.

The Professor changed her life. He brought her somewhat out of her shell, nudging her toward his dream. When she came to the school, he handed her over to Mr. Summers, somehow knowing their personalities were similar.

She ached for Cyclops. Having him so callously taken away was akin to physical injury. She would gladly go twelve rounds with that dickhead, Juggernaut, than face the mansion without Cyclops.

“Stressed?�

Kitty smiled without turning her head, knowing Angel’s voice as well as her own. She continued her abuse of the innocent punching bag for several seconds. The music changed again, Justin now joined by Timbaland telling her to not make a fool of him.

“Kitty?�

She turned to him, breathing hard and sticky with sweat. She couldn’t know what a picture she made to the winged angel in the doorway. His eyes swept over her once before meeting her eyes almost stubbornly.

In a move worthy of her mentor, Storm had placed Warren in her care, much as Kitty was placed in Cyclops' five years ago. She was careful with this blonde mutant, knowing his heart was bruised, his faith shaken. Kitty was trying, every day, to make up for the mistakes of his father. Sometimes, she thought, it almost worked.

He leaned against the doorframe casually, dressed in crisp jeans and a red Polo. He was a dang cutie, with that tidy flaxen hair and warm blue eye. Sometimes, if she wasn’t careful, she almost forgot the crush on Piotr she harbored. She almost forgot that she and Angel were just friends.

No Doubt, the tempo fast and the rhythm pulsing, replaced Justin’s signature whine. Kitty wanted to turn, to get lost in it. Instead, she jogged to the stereo and turned the volume down. When Gwen was down to a low whisper, urging anyone listening to keep on dancing, Kitty faced Warren again.

“Its ok to hurt,� he said quietly. “But you don’t have to hurt alone.�

It was, she remembered with a small smile, something she told him his first night at the mansion after Alcatraz.

“I know,� she replied, picking at her fingernails. “I know I’m not alone.�

“Then why are you doing this to yourself?� He asked, pushing off the doorjamb to stand straight.

She didn’t have an answer for him. Kitty cast her gaze to the floor, inhaling deeply before expelling the breath on a shaky sigh. Warren was so sweet to her. He’d never know the wonderful people that Jean, Scott, and the Professor were, but he understood them from Kitty’s frequent ramblings. Part of her was glad for that.

“I don’t know,� she answered her friend honestly, unable to raise her eyes to his.

He came across the room in a flutter of feathers and soft footfalls. Before she could hunch her shoulders or move away, kind hands were ghosting over bare arms. She gave in to the pull, not caring if she crossed that invisible line marked “friends� or not.

Warren folded her into his embrace with the care that reminded her of his codename. He shushed her gently, knowing before she did that she was going to cry. She gave herself up to the grief, holding his shoulders and wondering if he cared that she was covered in sweat.

If he did, he never showed it. Warren held her close, letting her useless tears soak his shirt until it was the color of blood. He smoothed his hand over her slick hair until he cupped her nape, giving her the feeling that he was the protector, salvation.

“I miss them,� Kitty whimpered against his chest.

“And that’s ok, too.� Warren whispered, kissing her temple.

When she was finished with her tears, Gwen was throatily whispering from the stereo, the song soft and slow and assuring her lover that he was lovely. Kitty looked up at Warren, at the achingly sweet understanding in his smile.

He kissed her forehead and her heart tripped.

~**~


Henry McCoy entered his outer office, buttoning the coat he wore over a pressed white dress shirt. He nodded to his assistant, whom handed him a stack of messages.

“Ms. Tilby is waiting in the lobby for you, Ambassador.�

Warmed at the thought of his raven-haired love, Hank nodded curtly. “Thank you, Gregory, have a nice evening.�

“Same to you, sir,� the eager young man gave him a smile in farewell.

As Hank left the office and entered the elevator, he pulled out a mobile phone and quickly punched in the number for Storm’s private office. He waited as it rang, letting the cool steel elevator take him down several floors.

It was unlike her to hang up on him in such a manner, and though he was sure the trouble was nothing life-threatening, he wanted to get to the bottom of it. He knew Ororo well, knew that she was holding on by the tips of her fingers. She was trying to send up smoke signals, to distract him from the fact that she was ripping apart at the seams.

He knew better. Ororo was once his best friend and they seemed on the road to rebuilding a once cherished friendship. He wanted to be there for her, through the good, bad, and ugly. Had she not insisted that he take this position as a United Nations Ambassador, he would be teaching ethics and biology at the school he loved.

On the sixth ring, Henry flipped the phone closed with a sigh. She would call to explain, of that he was sure. If she didn’t, for whatever reason, he would simply wait until she arrived next week. Then, at least, she couldn’t hang up on him.

When the elevator doors slipped open, Hank felt the tension knotting his shoulders relax more than a fraction. Standing in the open, airy lobby was the woman of his dreams.

Patricia Tilby worked for a news magazine – In Depth – for NCBC news, which won Emmy’s almost as often as it was nominated. Her reputation as a hard-hitting reporter with compassion served her well in the trenches, but it positively shone in the more controlled arena of news magazines.

Tonight, Hank was taking her out to celebrate her latest triumph. She was dressed to kill in inky black, the slinky material stopping at the knee. The sleeveless, strapless top modeled slender shoulders and creamy skin. Long, raven hair spilled down her back in delicate waves, making Henry ache to bury his hands in it.

Just looking at her made his mouth water.

“Hank,� she greeted, those sea-green eyes lighting up when she spotted him coming out of the elevator.

“You’re stunning,� he said by way of greeting. She flushed with pleasure, allowing him to kiss her cheek.

“I love it when you’re charming,� she answered, kissing his lips lightly. “Are you finished for the day?�

“I am wholly yours,� Hank answered, threading her arm with his. “Where would you like to eat?�

“Doesn’t matter,� Trish responded with a brilliant smile as they left the lobby. “As long as I have you…and some ridiculously expensive wine.�

“Your wish,� Hank bowed grandly as his driver opened the car door. “Is my command.�

Trish’s warm laughter promptly shoved aside thoughts of the school and Storm. He would talk to his friend tomorrow. Tonight was reserved for the woman he loved.

Chapter Three: Conflict

You do not know how much this hurts me
To say these things that I don't want to say
But have to say them anyway
I would do anything to end your suffering
But you would rather walk away
~Maroon 5


Storm was in her office when Logan managed to find her several hours later. He knocked once before opening the door, not caring whether or not the action would offend her. Soft music and the high-pitched voice of a woman drifted through the room. Female pipes vocalized with the music from a violin and harp.

Ok, he could admit that the music was soothing, if nothing else.

Shaking Chloe off proved more difficult than he imagined. Jesus, why did he always end up with the clingy ones? Absently wiping his palm – where the twit scrawled her phone number in ink – on his jeans, he ducked into Ororo’s office.

“I see you’ve decided to grace me with your presence.�

Acid. The word immediately popped into Logan’s mind upon facing the angry weather witch. She sat behind her desk, hands clasped together on the lesson planner left open. Her eyes, darkly drawing, were snapping with anger, with resentment.

A quick sniff told Logan she was practically ready to rage. Burning ozone snaked through the office as though tempting him, goading to send her into fury. Logan casually hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, smoke from the cigar in his mouth mingling with her angry scent.

Here there was no hint of the broken woman destroying her belongings. In fact, he mused, he could liken this stoic goddess to an ice sculpture. If he didn’t know better, he might have gone back to previous thinking. Before she faced him down in his bedroom, demanding that he admit he love Jean, Logan rarely thought of Storm and when he did, it was with an unconcerned shrug.

She was great with the kids, kept the school running, but his interests lie elsewhere. Sure, he knew she had something in the looks department. Obviously, Ororo was intelligent and loyal, and yet she drifted into the back of his mind until he needed her.

Though she could have told him to go fuck himself when he returned after confronting the Phoenix, she simply accepted her mission. Storm, then, showed her those true colors. She didn’t balk or squirm when they agreed Jean needed to be dealt with. Accepting it as fate, Ororo merely let it happen.

Even when he laid her friend at her feet, his hands drenched in blood, tears still coursing down whiskered cheeks, she accepted it. Grief stood in her eyes, just as it had during Xavier’s eulogy. Strength, however, allowed the new headmistress to solider on.

She cried, he told himself as he came fully into the room. While she might have seemed cold, he knew she cried. Logan couldn’t figure out why that didn’t make him feel any better.

“You wanted to talk?� He questioned, sinking into one of the comfortable chairs opposite her desk.

“Yes,� Ororo replied in that clipped tone. “Logan, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, this facility is not only a haven for mutants, but a school.�

Right about then, Wolverine realized he was about to be lectured. Amused, though he scowled, he was reminded of his second trip to the mansion, when Chuck threatened to have Jean braid his hair if he continued smoking in the room that housed Cerebro. Grief sliced at his gut, shoved forcefully away while Storm continued.

Her back seemed impossibly straight, eyes carefully guarded though swirling with anger; the skin of her hands drew taut over her knuckles. She looked, he thought quickly, like every inch the matronly schoolteacher.

“Because it is a school, we are responsible not only for the minds and mutations of the children in our care, but their morality as well.� She paused, those deep eyes boring into his without pause or restraint. “As such, I am afraid as this school’s headmistress, I cannot condone your cavorting with a female companion within the confines of the school.�

He blinked at her. “Cavorting? Cool word. What’s it mean?�

Pleased when her jaw clenched, he waited patiently. “Cavort means, to prance, frolic.�

Logan’s answer was a scowl. “I wasn’t cavorting, I was fucking. Huge difference.�

Her jaw was going to crack right down the middle if she didn’t relax, he thought with an inward smirk. Ororo did not flinch at his swearing, nor bother to reprimand him for it.

“All right, I’ll use small words,� she shot back. “I do not think it is seemly for a man to bring home a one-night-stand into a home filled with impressionable children. If you want to fuck some doe-eyed brunette, do it somewhere else.�

Surprised when she swore and the pure malice in her tone, Logan couldn’t help himself.

“You’re an idiot if you think all those kids stay in their own rooms every night.�

Oh, that did it. Storm stood slowly, her menacing stance amplified when she placed her palms on the lesson planner and leaned forward.

“I am not an idiot. I know that many of the elder students are sexually active.� A pause. A deep inhalation. “However, if you ever bring a woman back to this mansion to have causal sex, I will not be responsible for my actions.�

“Wasn’t anythin’ casual about it, darlin’,� Logan said, expelling smoke from his lungs and smirking.

Storm pushed away from the desk, smoothing her skirt with her hands. He could detect a stronger presence of ozone on the air, sense the tension in her body. At least, he thought clinically, she wasn’t breaking things.

“We all have…needs, Logan.� She began in a slightly more rational tone. “And I understand that you are not one to deny your needs. But I will not be forced to make nice with some bimbo every time you want to get scratched.�

“Needs?� He stood just as slowly, just as threateningly. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing bout my needs.�

“Biology being what it is,� Ororo continued with a wave of her hand. “I can certainly sympathize with an excess build up that requires release. I am merely asking that you do so elsewhere. Exposing the children – especially Jimmy – to strangers can be detrimental to his recovery.�

“Detrimental? Another cool word.� He paused, taking the cigar from his mouth. “Are you tellin’ me to go get a room next time?�

Deep chocolate eyes snapped with fire once more. “If you cannot keep your pants zipped, yes.�

Logan tucked his tongue into his cheek, amused by her righteous stance and cool words. She thought she had everything under control, he mused. Storm the unshakable, the leader…who was she kidding? If something so simple as him getting laid had her up in arms, she was more tense than he gave her credit for.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?� Logan grinned. “Jealous? Got some itchin’ you want scratched.�

“If I did, I it would be my choice.� Haughtily, she tossed her head, the snowy cap of her hair dancing with the motion.

“Aw, come on, Storm. No one blames you for not gettin’ a date. You’re always workin’. Maybe you should take a load off, get some tension relief of your own.�

Oh, now she was pissed. He watched, mildly fascinated, as the milky change that gave away slipping mutation betrayed her dark eyes. She clenched both hands into fists and squared her shoulders.

“Don’t bring your harem girls home, am I understood?�

“Sure.�

“Good, now get the hell out of my office.�

Somewhat surprised by her tone, Logan turned to do just that. While getting under her skin was wildly entertaining, something about her anger-shaken tone and imperious gaze was nerve wracking. Logan paused at the door when she called his name, looking over his shoulder in a way that reminded him of the night before.

“And if I want to get laid, Logan, I can and will do so.� Storm sat back behind her desk easily, dismissing him with every motion.

“Whatever you say, darlin’.�

He opened the door, stepped through it, and was satisfied with how it slammed behind him.

Logan stomped through the halls toward his bedroom, determined to stay the hell away from Storm as long as he could. If they kept butting heads, one of them was likely to kill the other.

~**~

When she was certain Logan was gone, Ororo slammed her lesson plan closed and snarled.

“Who the hell does he think he is?� She ranted to the empty room, hating to admit that he ruffled her proverbial feathers. “That ass. Complete, unredeemable, unmitigated ass.�

Inward rage became outward, reflecting in the sharp swirling of the clouds outside. Glimpsing it, Ororo shackled her emotions and locked them away. She would stew and swear privately, but her emotions were never completely unnoticed. Should someone glance out a window or door, they were displayed for all to see. That kind of exposure could be damaging, more so than the effort of locking it up inside.

“Thinks I can’t get a date? I can get a damn date.� Huffing, Ororo glanced at the clock, aware that she had several minutes before the rushing madness of dinner. “Just because I don’t bring someone home, flaunt myself in front of the children, doesn’t mean I can’t get a date.�

Rolling her shoulders to work out the tension building there, she pondered her options. One: ignore the Wolverine and his damnable insights. Two: kick him out of the mansion, which she desperately wanted to do.

Charles, however, wanted that blasted man within the safety of the school. Glancing at the portrait over her desk, she conceded the point. If she could refuse Charles nothing while he lived, what made her think she had any more strength with his passing?

The third option was wildly appealing. With a casual motion, she thumbed through her Rolodex in search of a familiar name. Finding the card, grasping it, Ororo could not help the slow, pleased smile that graced her previously irate features.

Forge. Her on again-off again relationship with the dashing inventor was something to grab hold of. They dated for weeks or even months at a time, content with no pressuring promises and hot, uninhibited sex.

Yes, Ororo loved Scott with everything in her body, but there were limits to any woman’s patience. She knew all the time she harbored her unrequited feelings that they would never come to fruition. Scott remained unreachable even when he lived.

To protect herself – and find solace somewhere – Ororo accepted Forge’s debonair flirtation. They had fun together, she thought while tracing his name with a thumb. Forge danced, laughed, enjoyed good food and stimulating conversation. He could kiss with the tenderness of an angel and make love with the flair of a scoundrel. He was, Ororo often thought, a good match.

Swayed by impulse, Ororo took up her sleek office phone and punched in the private number to Forge’s New York office. Unpainted fingernails drummed idly on the polished surface of her desk as she waited for him to pick up or be answered by his service.

Heart beating somewhat faster, Logan’s baiting echoing in her ears, it was a delight when Forge answered on the third ring.

“Lydia, I swear to God, I’m asking for five damn minutes.�

On a silent chuckle, Ororo settled into her high-backed chair and grinned, letting the expression flow into her tone.

“Is this a bad time?�

A startled pause preceded a warmer greeting. “Ororo? Oh, thank God. Save me.�

She chuckled, tapping fingertips on the leather arm of her chair. “From Lydia?�

“Among others,� he replied easily. “I have been buried to the eyeballs in work for the last month. You?�

His voice always carried a hint of laughter and passion. Smooth, urbane, but barely concealing that hint of the wild. Ororo felt the delicious kick of desire in her system, suppressing the urge to sigh with it. Forge always had that effect on her. When she needed a reprieve from Scott, she could easily fall back on her friend.

Oh, he knew Ororo did not love him and confessed the same. They enjoyed one another, immensely, though neither felt the need to complicate a simple arrangement with unwanted feelings. She could have dinner with Forge, let him charm her into his bed, and lock any hurt away for a little while.

Forge, Ororo knew, used her for the same. She adored the man for his straightforward, uncomplicated enjoyment. More people could benefit from such a relationship.

“I am desperate for an escape,� Ororo replied silkily. “Paperwork, training, hormonal teenagers.�

“Sounds like heaven,� he quipped, making her laugh. “Where do I sign up?�

“Politics getting to you, Maker?�

“They always do.� She heard the rustle of paper and a click on the line, as though he were moving the receiver.

And checking his schedule.

“Be a love and tell me you’re free Friday night?� He dropped his voice to a sensual purr. “I ask with my heart in the general vicinity of my throat.�

Flushing with pleasure, with anticipation, Ororo leaned forward to check her own schedule. Friday’s were normally busy, but she seemed to free up around seven. Relaying this to her friend, he paused to ponder.

“A late dinner?� Forge hummed as though contemplating. “Pierre’s?�

Ororo instantly scowled. “You stick me in that stuffy restaurant and so help me, I will drop-kick you.�

“Ah, a woman after my heart,� he chuckled. The sound was smoky and dark, making a tingle work it’s way down her spine. It had definitely been too long. “Something new and exciting, then? Tango?�

Thrilled to the bones, Ororo pulled the phone from her ear to squeal soundlessly. If anyone had seen that, her reputation would be in tatters. But she was alone, so she could damn well be girlish and silly if she wanted to.

“You, my dear Forge, are brilliant.� She sighed happily, grinning when he laughed at her uncommonly open pleasure. “Shall I wear something sassy and black?�

“Oh, no,� he said with a tsk in his voice. “Something sinful and red.�

Arching her brow, though he could not see her face, she hummed low in her throat. “Oh?�

“You ought to stand out, Ororo,� he practically purred. Ororo closed her eyes. “I want something decidedly wicked to gawk at during dinner.�

“And fantasize about?�

“A given.�

“Hrmm,� she hummed again, licked her lips. “Pick me up at eight?�

“Not a moment later.� He paused, then chuckled once more. “I am so damned glad you called today, Ororo. I was losing my faith in the human race.�

“We can’t have that,� she returned playfully. “Friday. Eight o’clock. Sinful. Don’t be late, handsome.�

“Not a chance, gorgeous.�

She cradled the receiver, grinning from ear to ear. Maybe a date with Forge was just what the doctor ordered.

Mood much improved, Ororo went back to her lesson plan.

~**~


“The object of today’s exercise is to test your battle tactics,� Storm’s voice rang through the bare Danger Room, filled with authority. “You must rescue a mutant under siege while detaining, without killing, the captors.�

Angel squared his shoulders, preparing for his first combat-experience in the marvelously advanced training room. Though he was present for several combat lessons, only today was he deemed ready to actually dash into the fray.

Beside him, Shadowcat, Colossus, Iceman, and Psylocke were waiting for their orders as well. The telepath, while a teacher and well-trained warrior, was a new addition to the X-Men, much like Warren. They were around the same level when it came to group training, to the teamwork that the X-Men demanded from its members.

Storm stood before the group, dressed for her part as the “hostage�. She would hide in one of the buildings the Danger Room would provide. Their main objective, of course, was to locate the “hostage� and get her to safety. Everything else, as Betsy would say, was “shite and sniggers�.

“Wolverine will control the Danger Room,� their leader continued amid several groans of dismay. “And the captors. I don’t think I have to tell you to be on your toes.�

Kitty shifted beside him, making Warren uncomfortably aware of her proximity. Though he counted her as his first true friend, many things about the bubbly brunette left him rather ill at ease. It wouldn’t do to go into battle with thoughts of warm brown eyes and a sassily swinging ponytail.

He tried to tell himself that Colossus held their resident Kitten’s attention. Pity it never worked exactly as he wanted it to. Ugly jealousy could rear its head, making Warren even more uncomfortable if he dwelled on it. He liked Kitty, borderline adored her, with a single-minded intensity that frequently terrified him.

Locked in his gilded cage by a well meaning, if misguided father, Warren had little experience with people. Upon joining the X-Men and beginning his second year of college, Warren was thrust into the middle of a ragtag group that could only be labeled a family. Adjustment tended to be difficult at times, usually soothed by the perky girl who held most of his attention.

It came as a shock to the winged angel that he enjoyed people. A wonderfully messy mix of emotions and colors, human beings held a fascination that Warren couldn’t really shake. He loved to watch relationships develop, the interaction between friends, lovers, and even enemies. Something about the life teeming around him just wiggled under his skin in a captivating way.

Kitty, as his sometimes-kooky tour guide on this amazing ride, quickly became his favorite to watch. She bounced, laughed, teased, and doled out wisdom as though it were second nature.

The fact that he found her absolutely beautiful was one of those little things that made his palms sweaty.

Unexpectedly, Angel’s gaze swept over the group of young warriors and caught the dark, brooding stare of Colossus. They normally got on very well, though Pete was hardly what one might term “chatty�. He tended toward silence, observing the world rather than being part of it. Occasionally, though, his wickedly intelligent sense of humor would pop up in an unforgettable one-liner that sent everyone in the vicinity into hysterics.

Hell, Warren liked the man, but damn a small, irritating part of him hated the tall Russian’s guts.

“Good luck.�

At Storm’s goodbye, Angel snapped his attention back to the team. The Danger Room activated, throwing up broken windows, decimated buildings, and a trashed roadway to block her from view. Angel couldn’t even see which direction she took off in. Damn.

“OK,� Iceman said with a tone of command. “Lets come up with a plan.�

Psylocke tossed her violet-gaze to Warren, her eyes holding the joke he knew she wanted to share. Warren grinned back at her, his wings inching up as he tensed. The leather of his uniform was specially designed to be almost air-light, to compliment his bone-structure. Thankfully, Storm asked their tailor to slice holes in the uniform, allowing room for his wings to gather close or spread without hindrance.

For a young man who cut his own wings off at twelve, then bound them with thick straps until twenty, the freedom to simply showcase his angelic mutation was an undiluted joy. He recalled the tears standing in his eyes as Storm and Kitty explained the uses of his suit. Remembering both women smiling with understanding made him straighten further.

Storm gambled on him; he wouldn’t let her down.

“We’ll need a bird’s eye view of the layout,� Iceman said, grinning to Angel.

Pleased to have a reason – any reason – to fly, Angel immediately thrust his wings out and grinned. Kitty winked impishly as he threw himself into the makeshift sky. The world seemed to stretch before him, though he knew the room itself had limits. Hovering with several unconscious flaps of his generous wingspan, Angel’s sharp eyes darted over the war torn scene they would be required to navigate.

“Two streets,� he reported into the comm. link that connected him to the others. “A dozen buildings, most of them with severe damage. I can see a few rioters to the west, innocents trying to flee south and no sign of wherever Storm is being held.�

“Ok,� Iceman’s voice crackled through the comm.. “Come on down.�

“Angel!�

Trusting that tone in Kitty’s terrified voice, he dropped his body forward into a dive that would have been impossible for a normal human or mutant. A bullet whizzed past his head, where only a moment before his heart was hovering. Adrenaline pumping, Angel sighed as he landed behind the group and crouched with them.

“Apparently, Wolverine thinks I hovered too long.�

“Are you ok?� Kitty asked, turning to him and inspecting his suit as though to find damage. He took her hand, smiling slightly.

“He missed. Thanks.�

Her face flushed slightly, but Angel’s attention was drawn away.

“Lets try the southern side,� Iceman said with a barely-detectable shake to his voice. “Psylocke, can you read anything in here?�

“Not a bloody thing,� the violet-haired telepath huffed. “I hate machines and I can’t get a read on Storm, she must have powered up.�

Bobby chuckled softly. “Fine, lets just move forward, carefully. Colossus, take point, Angel and Psylocke between, Shadowcat and I will take the rear.�

Taking their orders, the group fell into formation, moving cautiously down the battered street. Colossus, imposing and nearly indestructible in his metallic form, strode with purpose while guarding the other, less defended team members.

After passing the first building, the assembled mutants were seized by terrified civilians.

“Please,� one woman pled. Her face was dirty and smeared with blood, eyes betraying mind-numbing fear. Angel’s heart clenched. “Help us.�

“Storm didn’t say anything about survivors.� Bobby whispered loudly enough for everyone with an earpiece to hear.

“Wolverine’s running the program, things aren’t cut and dry,� Shadowcat offered. “He likes his curveballs.�

“Don’t worry, ma’am,� Angel told the woman, taking her gently by the arm. “We’ll get you someplace safe.�

“Lets split up,� Psylocke suggested. “Angel and Kitty can handle moving these survivors. Petey, Bob and I can try locating Storm.�

Angel glanced to Kitty, whom was helping an older man to walk. “You think that’s a good idea?�

“We’re timed,� Colossus reminded them. “We either show compassion or not, but we only have two hours.�

“Ok,� Bobby nodded. “Lets split up then. Angel, Shadowcat, rendezvous with us in thirty at the western stop light.�

The two mutants agreed, helping the half-dozen refugees out of the demolished building. He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the others jogged down the street. Shadowcat offered a small smile to her partner, leading the small group of beaten survivors toward the Danger Room exit.

Wolverine, manipulating the controls, created a “safe house� of sorts, in which to deposit them. Sighing with relief when the last stepped over the faux threshold and vanished, Angel rolled his shoulders. His wings shifted and fluttered, which made Kitty grin at him.

“That’s so cute,� she said as they turned to meet the others. “Like watching a bird preen itself.�

Angel narrowed his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that a compliment?�

“Duh.� She winked at him again, leading him down a winding alley.

“You’re a goof.� He returned her wink, his gaze darting about for signs of danger. Kitty was directly beside him as the alley opened on her side.

Luckily, she was able to reach for him before the bomb went off.

“DIE, MUTIES!�

Disoriented as Shadowcat tugged Angel into the ground, he caught only a glimpse of color – the shifting of molecules – before they were back into the fray. The explosion left the ground trembling, even as Kitty set them beside the enormous crater it left behind.

“Ouch,� Warren commented glibly. “You’ve got good reflexes.�

“I try.� She was breathless, but looked as though she was having the time of her life. “You ok?�

He shrugged, meeting her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? You kept my feathers in tact.�

She mimicked him, looking around curiously. “Bobby hates when I phase him like that.�

Knowing how much it could hurt, even without you realizing it, when someone you cared for inched away from your mutation, Warren grasped her shoulder. Her warm, friendly gaze met his again and his stomach swooped as though he’d gone into a swift dive.

“I like it,� he explained softly. “Its colorful.�

His friend brightened immediately. “Yeah. It’s neat.�

“Come on,� he nudged her familiarly. “Lets catch up.�

They continued picking their way down the streets, dodging several of Wolverine’s cleverly concealed traps. Another bomb went off to Angel’s right, but not before he scooped Kitty into his arms and took immediate flight.

“My hero,� she sighed in a silly manner before kissing his cheek.

Angel flushed, depositing her on a nearby rooftop. “Can you see the others?�

When Kitty failed to reply, Angel glanced at the girl sharing the half-caved in rooftop. She was completely still, her dark eyes huge and round with surprise. Warren whipped his body around, following her eye line and locating what looked to be several thugs carrying blunt weapons.

“Oh.� He said quietly, closing in beside Kitty. “I’ll take the two on the right.�

His companion swallowed hard. “Ok. Lets go.�

The thugs ran at the duo, both of whom were already in stances to brace for the assault. Kitty phased through the first, using a signature move to grasp his back and toss him on the charred rooftop.

Angel ducked a mean left hook, thrusting his wings out viciously. The rough bone ridge of the top shoved on attacker off the roof, the two-story fall wouldn’t kill him. As the second came at him with a baseball bat, Angel took a hit to the midsection, air rushing from his lungs.

He kicked out, doubling over and falling to regain balance. He was up in a flash, a glance telling him that Kitty’s skill in martial arts was serving her well. Hopping up, he met the man toe to toe, shoving a fist into his scowling face. The bone in his nose broke, blinding him and allowing Warren to shift his wings. Shuffling the blinded assailant with his impressive wingspan, the mutant shifted and turned until the attacker was dizy. Then, seizing his chance, another well-placed punch had him on his back.

“War?� Kitty asked as she breathlessly bounced to him. “You ok?�

“Fine,� he replied cheerfully. Both of Kitty’s opponents were on the ground. Crying. He grinned at her.

“What happened to him?� She asked, indicating to his own foe.

“Came down with a serious case of unconsciousness.� As Kitty laughed, Warren touched his earpiece to contact Bobby. “Iceman?�

“Angel? You guys ok?� Iceman’s voice crackled over the comm..

“We’re fine, where are you?�

“Hang on, Psylocke’s homing in on you.� He paused. “Drop down, looks like we’re right under you guys.�

Kitty, having heard this on her comm., held her hands out, taking Warren’s without pause. Touched, as no one trusted him so much as Kitty, he grasped her hands tightly and stepped backward off the ledge, pulling her with him.

His companion squealed with delight as he thrust out white feathers, making them land softly behind Colossus. The other three mutants were smiling slightly, though from the state of hair and clothing, they’d been delayed as well.

“Bombs, bad guys, what’s next?� Betsy grumbled. “Wolverine’s making this…wait!�

They turned to the telepath, watching as her blue-violet eyes glazed over with the trademark look of a powerful mind reaching for something they could not understand.

“Its Storm. I got her when she tried to check in with Wolverine.� The woman smiled wolfishly. “She didn’t think I’d scan continuously. I’ll be tired, but damn that was worth it.�

Following their mind leech faithfully, the group found their way into a nondescript house laying in waste down a small side street. Colossus took point once more, shouldering his way through the door without missing a step. Psylocke followed, her mind reaching out.

Iceman was behind them, just before Kitty and Angel. They slipped quietly into the house, using stealth techniques taught by Wolverine.

“Oh. Shit.�

Bobby came to a halt when the group noted that there were two occupants in the room. One, bound, gagged, and dirty, was the object of their search. The second, to their horror, was one snarling Wolverine.

Snikt!

“Ok, kids, lets see you handle a real enemy.�

Without pause, without waiting for the group to devise a plan or even react, the most dangerous man on the planet leapt at them.

Chapter Four: Caliente

My every thought is of this being true
It's getting harder not to think of you
Girl, I'm exactly where I wanna be
The only thing’s I need you here with me
If it's true don't leave me all alone out here
Wonderin' if you're ever gonna take me there
Tell me what you're feelin' cause I need to know
Girl, you gotta let me know which way to go
~Marc Anthony


“Ow.�

“You can say that again.� Kitty dropped, still in X-Men leathers, on the armchair.

“Ow.� Bobby obliged, limping to the loveseat.

“What happened?� Marie closed her SAT book, looking from one pained face to the other.

Warren bit back a smile, experimentally twitching his wings. Wolverine’s toss across the Danger Room nearly broke his right wing, but he seemed to be in one piece. Kitty’s eyes lit with concern, so he shook his head slightly with a small smile. She relaxed, rolling a sore shoulder.

Marie stroked her boyfriend’s forehead as he whimpered pitifully. Pete shook his head at them, half-carrying a battered Psylocke into the Rec Room. The duo sat gingerly on the wide sofa, completing the odd circle of mutant and normal human.

Holding up one hand, Kitty answered the former-mutant. She flatted her palm. “Silver platter.� Her free hand came up. “Ass.� Palms slapped together.

“We got owned,� Iceman offered on a groan. “I mean, completely, utterly frigging owned.�

“Hey,� Psylocke defended. “I got him good with that psi-attack.�

“Of course you did,� Colossus rubbed her shoulder. “And then he used you for a chew toy.�

“I’d be hacked off if it wasn’t so, very true.� Betsy chuckled.

Warren perched on the arm of Kitty’s chair, checking the bruise on her cheek. She blushed prettily, waving him off. He wouldn’t admit it under torture, but watching Wolverine catch the quick, phasing mutant nearly stopped his heart. The only thing their teacher held back was swipes of adamantium.

They’d held their own for all of five seconds. Then, like roaches when lights come on, they broke formation and scattered. He demoralized the assembled mutants with a feral roar. At that moment, Angel appreciated anyone who could withstand it. There was something animalistic about it, something that made lingering humanity tuck tail and run.

“How long did you last?� Marie asked, sympathy etched into her features.

“Me? Thirty seconds,� her boyfriend replied. “But I was first.�

“Kitty and Warren lasted longest,� Pete chimed in, pride in his tone. Warren felt the sting. Hadn’t he just admitted part of him hated the tall Russian?

“Yeah, they were good.� Psylocke added, nodding in agreement. “Used this neat tactic.�

Kitty flushed, glancing at him. Warren felt his own cheeks heat up. “It wasn’t that great.�

“Warren was the last mutie standing,� Kitty interrupted. “We were playing cat and mouse, kinda tag-teaming Wolvie. Then, Professor Butt-Head got hold of me and I kinda sorta freaked out.�

“Is that why you didn’t phase?� Iceman questioned curiously.

Her ponytail swung when she nodded, whacking Warren lightly on the arm. His wings twitched.

“Yup,� she sighed. “He was looking at me like he was gonna eat me. Pardon me if I wet myself.�

The assembled mutants laughed weakly.

“Warren rushed out of the fake house, flew around the side,� Colossus continued. “He managed to get Storm free…�

“But Wolverine caught me, tossed me around like a rag doll for a while.� Warren’s back flexed and he thrust out his injured wing gingerly. “Kitty, is there a twist or anything? Right along the ridge, I think.�

Aware that Marie and Betsy were staring at him with something like awe on their faces, he patiently ignored them. Kitty turned in her seat, inspecting the offered wing carefully. Warren gulped, looking over his shoulder as though searching with her to hide his sudden fluster.

“Oh, War,� she whispered a moment later. “You’ve got a little break. Right at the third ridge.�

The others all sat up immediately. Warren frowned, attempting to bend the wing forward so he could see for himself. He winced at the pain that shot through the bone-ridges and into his back. Kitty’s gentle fingers held him in place, not touching the wounded bone.

“Damn,� Warren sighed. “Better tell Storm.�

The group winced visibly. Everyone knew what would happen. If Storm decided it was Wolverine’s fault – and she would – the argument was likely to shatter windows. Hating that he might be cause for internal strife, Warren stood.

“Don’t bend it back,� Kitty warned. “Just pull it in a little. You might rip it more if you bring it in completely.�

She held his wing with infinite care, moving behind him easily.

“Don’t worry so much,� Warren told the others cheerfully. “Its nothing. Some of the bones are delicate, is all.�

“Be careful,� Betsy replied seriously. “You don’t want to injure it permanently.�

“We will save you both some dinner,� Colossus added with a slight smile.

With Kitty in tow, Warren headed toward Storm’s office, his wing beginning to ache as adrenaline wore off. He bit back the pain, trying to fight the urge to cradle his broken limb. Kitty shooed younger students away, helping him navigate the corridors with one angelic wing extended.

“Thanks,� he said to her when they were outside the Headmistress’ office.

“Does it hurt?� She asked, coming to face him as the wing drooped. “Poor Angel.�

“It’s all right.� He gave her a smile as Storm called for them to enter.

Kitty popped a bone in her back, grinning impishly at him. Warren paused, hand on the door, and exhaled sharply. He needed to get this over with, before his father called to badger him again.

“Hey, Kitty?� He swallowed hard when those chocolate eyes met his. “My dad’s got this charity thing in New York on Saturday. He wants me to go…I don’t supposed you’d…?�

She waited patiently, mirth dancing in her eyes, for him to go on. Warren stammered again, trying to wrap his tongue around words that used to come easily around her. Why did he have to crush on someone he liked so much? If he didn’t get it out of his system, he might lose the best friend he’d ever had. When Pete finally asked her on a date, Warren needed to be prepared.

“Just as friends, I mean. Well, I thought you might like to get dressed up and keep me from dying of boredom…�

She took pity on him, finally. “Formal? Sounds like fun. Not much notice, as tomorrow’s Saturday, but I’ll work something out.�

Warren breathed. “Thanks. I normally avoid these things, but…�

“Trying to play nice?� She grinned, nodding her head toward the door. “I got it. Don’t worry, I’ll charm your dad and keep you from death by snoring.�

Warren waited until she’d bounced down the hall, ponytail dancing in a sassy swing behind her, before he turned the knob to Storm’s office. It wouldn’t be a wasted Friday night, after all, he thought with a grin. Even if her heart was Pete’s, he could show her a good time.

That would have to be enough.

~**~

Piotr watched the exchange from a little way down the hall with a slight smile on his face. Warren was, quite obviously, deeply smitten over their vivacious Shadowcat. From the look Kitty shot at Angel over her shoulder, that feeling might end up mutual.

For all his stony silence, Piotr Rasputin was not an idiot. He knew Kitty felt something for him and tried to discourage her without letting on that he knew. Though the two were friends, he simply did not return her romantic affections. Besides, he thought as Storm’s voice rose through the solid oak door, he wasn’t a good match for her.

Warren, for all his emotional wounds, clicked with Kitten. Piotr pondered this while entering the kitchen to help with dinner. He intended to help the two along, push them gently toward one another while ensuring Kitty wouldn’t feel guilty. It might prove tricky, but nothing worthwhile happened to be easy.

Giving Psylocke a slight smile as she grabbed a water bottle, he moved toward the refrigerator.

“They’re cute.�

Piotr did not bother to feign confusion. “I know.�

“Lend him your car,� the violet-eyed telepath suggested. “I’ll lend her a dress.�

“Something decent?� He shot to his friend, raising a brow.

“Something sweet.� She headed for the hall, chuckling at him.

“You own something sweet?� Colossus raised his voice so it would carry into the corridor behind her.

Laughter drifted back to him a beat before her shout. “I’ve never worn it!�

Piotr kept right on laughing as he pulled ingredients out of the cupboards. Perhaps, with Psyclocke’s help, he would play matchmaker.

~**~

Yes, there had been an argument. Yes, they were both pissed off. No, he didn’t admit he felt guilty for hurting Angelcake to anyone save himself.

Cigar smoke trailing in his wake, Logan headed for his office below the mansion, grumbling under his breath. He did feel bad for breaking Angel’s wing. No verbal ass reaming needed. It wasn’t intentional and the toss hadn’t been that hard. Angel said it wasn’t a big deal, that some of the wing bones were notoriously fragile, but the guilt still punched Wolverine in the gut.

It was a damn good session, he thought proudly. He hadn’t expected the kids to get to Storm in the allotted time, but they had. Of course, they went all to pieces when confronted with Wolverine, but that was completely expected. They might be ready next time. He would wait until several sessions passed before taking them on again.

All in all, he told Storm the kids impressed him. They were quick, decisive, and a team. No one got left behind, no suggestion overruled outright. Bobby had serious leadership potential and, given more time to train, Angel would give the kid a run for his money.

There was the lick of guilt again.

Wolverine liked Angel. The kid was almost impossible not to like. When he first stepped into Xavier’s old office, his “I heard this was a safe place for mutants� kicked both Wolverine and Storm in the proverbial gut. That wounded boy already disappeared completely, replaced with a strong, willful young man.

For some reason, it did Logan proud to see the change. Maybe because Warren was the first student Logan knew from the instant he set foot in the school. He got to see, first hand, what a tremendous change overcame him. Even with Rogue, he’d gone off on his own several times during her first year. This time, though, he saw Angel every day, watched the pain erased by hope.

If Storm hadn’t just vocally yanked his head out his ass, he might have gone to hang out with the kid for a while, just to ensure he wasn’t hurting. It didn’t seem right to break a kid’s wing like that.

Settling into his chair behind the desk he kept somewhat neat, Logan typed up the computer code for the Danger Room’s video cameras. The monitoring system loaded quickly, allowing Logan to peek inside at what was happening now, or browse old sessions.

While looking for the recent session, he spotted Ororo logged onto the school’s closed network. She, too, was looking through the files for the Danger Room, but from a year ago. Curious, Logan opened the file she was watching, waiting for it to load on his screen.

It broke his heart to find Jean and Cyclops standing in the room. They were ready for battle, dressed in pristine X-Men uniforms. Without thinking, Logan’s fingertips grazed the computer screen, lingering over the swell of Jean’s cheek. Her deep green eyes were alight with determination.

So beautiful. Her fire red hair pulled back into a knot, all that soft skin glowing in the dim light…she’d been that beautiful the day she died.

The day he’d killed her.

He watched the duo work effortlessly, a flawless team. Reminded of his recent session with the kids, he tried to pick out similarities. They were there, he thought. The cohesion of family, the fortitude of warriors. Somehow, Logan and Storm were creating X-Men just as strong as the original.

Jean took a hit. Logan winced. She was out for the session, leaving Cyclops alone against the unknown assailant. As time dragged on, Scott battled mutants, humans, and robots, coming out on top more often than Wolverine would have given credit for. Cyclops was, he mused, the epitome of an X-Man.

That was what Storm was going for, Logan realized. She wanted all of their kids to be as trained, as bright as Scott. It seemed an admirable goal. For an hour, according to the time stamps, Cyclops went up alone against impossible odds only to come out on top.

But why was Storm watching this session? Getting ideas for their next training? Logan shook his head. Storm long ago memorized every Danger Room session known to mankind. There wasn’t anything here that she hadn’t done before.

Or…

Logan sat up, narrowing his eyes when Cyclops rolled to avoid a plasma blast. It was just Scott. No Jean. No Storm. No Beast. Scott. Something tickled the back of his mind, mingling with memories since the death of the X-Men leader.

“Holy shit.�

~**~


Ororo would have worried about Logan’s silent treatment over the last several hours if she thought about it. But in preparation for a much-anticipated date, thoughts of their resident feral took a far backseat.

The dress was an old favorite, but she’d bought new shoes. Needle thin scarlet heels proved her kryptonite, putting a nice dent in her savings. But how often did a woman in her position get a chance to indulge in Jimmy Choo?

Thin, clingy silk caressed her curves, the fitted bodice revealing swells of cleavage she hitched up with the help of Victoria’s Secret. Diaphanous gathers covered her backside, coming to a halt several inches shy of “respectable�. It floated when she turned, making the woman inside it feel feminine and wicked.

Forge wanted red, she thought with a wry twist to her mouth. Red it was. A shocking shade that succeeding in setting off her caramel skin. Forgoing hose in favor of thigh-high stockings with a trim of black lace, Ororo shifted in front of the mirror. Her legs, a personal favorite body part, looked absolutely fantastic. Painted toes of the same hue winked at her from the peep toe heels. Another little indulgence. Even if she wore boots or sensible pumps, underneath it, she knew she had sexy toes.

“Storm?�

Betsy Braddock knocked on the bedroom door as Ororo sprayed her throat with an exotic, floral fragrance.

“Come in.� She arranged the bangles on her wrist before strapping on a matching gold watch.

“Wow,� her young friend breathed after opening the bedroom door. “You look hot.�

Pleased with the compliment, Ororo turned to her friend. She did the requisite turn, delighting in the way the dress shifted and flowed around her. Ororo worked hard for the body she regularly tucked into sensible leather or businesslike suits.

The telepath whistled. “Very nice. Forge is waiting in the foyer. I’ll call ahead to the hospital, cause he’s about to have a heart seizure.�

Ororo laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “I hope not.�

“Oh,� Betsy mimed wiping away a tear. “Tell me that comment means you’ll stroll in tomorrow morning wearing what’s left of that dress.�

“I can only hope.� Ororo winked, grabbing her tiny crimson clutch. “You have my numbers, if you need anything…�

“I’ll resurrect Charles.� Betsy waggled her brows as they left Storm’s bedroom. “A dress like that needs to be ripped off. Or at least, yanked up a few inches.�

Glowing at the praise, Ororo bid her friend goodbye, knowing she would be pumped for details tomorrow over coffee. She descended the stairs quickly, hearing Forge’s unmistakable voice. He was speaking to Piotr, the younger man’s accent giving him away as she came to the second landing.

God, he looked good enough to gobble up in one bite. His Cheyenne heritage gifted him with angular features and dark, smoldering eyes. To her delight, he’d pulled on a pair of black trousers and a silk shirt, topping it off with a blazer she knew wouldn’t last. Long dark hair was tied at his nape, giving her date a roguish look.

“Looking for me?�

At the sound of her voice, both men turned to witness her entrance. Swaying her hips deliberately, Ororo molded her sexy red dress with the flair of a pro. Colossus gulped audibly, but it was the lit fire in Forge’s eyes that swelled her ego.

He reached for her hand, strong fingers grasping hers as a claim. Impossibly soft lips brushed over the ridge of her knuckles, those dark eyes intense when their gazes locked.

“You’re stunning.�

“Agreed,� Piotr mumbled before excusing himself.

Ororo let her hand fall from her date’s, taking the thin ebony wrap from Betsy. Forge draped it over her shoulder, pressing his lips innocently to the bared flesh there. Pleasure, a sizzling shock, whipped through her body, sending a telltale shiver down her spine.

Even as Betsy watched them with unabashed glee, Forge leaned up until he spoke in a husky whisper against her ear.

“How’s your Spanish?�

“Fluent, as usual,� Ororo replied in an equally soft tone.

What he whispered then was a rough, sexually explicit fantasy that would have sent lesser women to swoon or rage. Ororo allowed her mouth to curve into a seductive smile as she shifted against him.

“We’ll try that later.�

Betsy was busy fanning herself, though there was no possible way she could have heard Forge’s whisper. Her date laughed lightly, taking her elbow in a gentlemanly fashion to guide her toward the door.

“Don’t wait up,� Forge tossed to the woman over his shoulder.

“Blimey,� came the breathless reply as the door snapped shut behind them. “Where can I get one of those?�

~**~


Because a date with Ororo must be treated as an event, Forge gave into indulgence and rented a convertible. The sleek sports car navigated the freeways leading into New York City like a bat out of hell; Forge’s notoriously lead foot spiking the speedometer at ninety.

Tango catered to a particular clientele. Young, well to do, and unreserved. The couple was ushered into the nightclub by a smartly dressed doorman, then to a table on the second floor by the host. Bright lights and pulse pounding music downstairs were muted on the upper level, thanks to thousands spent on soundproofing. Here, candlelit ceramic bowls in varying shades of blue, red, and green accentuated the dim light, sparking romance and seduction.

Thick tablecloths of matching colors covered round tables of fine Mexican craftsmanship, each chair a sensual curve that spoke of carnal delights in muted tones. Forge helped Ororo into her seat, the candlelight adoring her in ways most women would only dream of.

God, she looked amazing. Had it been so long since he’d seen her? Or did she really just get more beautiful as time marched on?

Her dress, the color of sin, molded to her generous flesh like a lover’s hand. Caramel breasts winked playfully from the daring neckline and – Lord Jesus – those shoes made mouth-watering legs irresistible.

Signature snowy hair danced lightly in its short, choppy locks when she moved her head. Chocolate eyes regarded him coolly from beneath dark, smoky lashes. Catching himself staring, and utterly unable to cease, Forge shook his head while he took his seat.

“Stunning,� he repeated, for lack of a better word. “Absolutely stunning.�

Ororo gave him that quiet, sexy smile and his heart stuttered. “You’re wonderful for my ego.�

They lapsed into silence as a waiter appeared with a wine list. Forge discarded it without looking, ordering a ripe Merlot to start their evening off. Ororo was not a mystery to him, much to their mutual pleasure. When they were together, she often let him take the lead…until she started to feel dominating.

Oh, he hoped the dominating would come into play soon.

She watched the couples writhing together on the dance floor below, courtesy of the wall-length window that housed smoked glass. The dancing throng glided and bumped to the easy Latin beats of a talented house band, human bodies melding into an orgy of color and breath.

“Are you going to dance with me?� Ororo questioned, turning those eyes back on him.

“Hell yes,� Forge agreed, settling back in his chair. “Anything to get my hands on that dress.�

Her laughter was warm, but hinted at the pleasures he might find below. He adored Ororo Munroe. Women came and went with the inventive Forge, usually with a pat on the head and a devastating smile. Only Ororo was allowed to return, again and again. She alone held his interest in conversation and sex. Something about this woman set him on fire in the best of ways, leaving it to burn and smolder until they met again.

They were not in love by any stretch of the imagination. That particular conversation was had years ago and provided both parties with an acceptable relationship. Forge and Ororo spent time together when they chose, without promises of forever neither of them would mean. Yes, it meant more than sex, but it could not, would not be love.

Forge had to admit, he enjoyed her this way. Ororo flitted in and out of his awareness like a swift summer storm. Sometimes they kept it up regularly for weeks or months at a time. Always, though, there was an end. Parted until they met again.

Right now, he needed to get her close, pressed up against his already aching body. Ignoring the wine, he held a hand out to her. Ororo stood with limitless grace, an anticipating smile already working over her glossy lips.

A back stairway led dining patrons to and from the massive dance floor. Forge led Ororo down it, thankful he’d shed his blazer in the car before the valet took it. Ororo’s fingers squeezed his lightly when the door opened, music spilling in a beat before the throbbing lights.

The expansive room smelled of mingled perfumes, of human sweat, and raw sexuality. The bar sat at the back of the room, where it met with the kitchen upstairs. Across from it, along the far wall, sat a wide, open stage. The house band was hot tonight, blasting old Latin favorites with originals.

Couples and even trios or more, ground bodies together eagerly. Forge pulled Ororo directly into the throng, vanishing with her into the decadence. She fit her body against him instantly, swaying enticingly to the beat of drums backed up by a wailing violin.

Because of the heels on her feet, their heights were complimentary. He could stare into the fathomless pools of her dark eyes, even when they bent and swayed together. His hands found purchase on the silk-covered swells of her hips. Ororo arched her back, falling toward the floor in a sensually inviting sway. Forge’s bionic hand slid up her back, supporting her even as he dropped an open-mouthed kiss to the exposed flesh of her chest.

When she came back up sharply, his breathing came in harsh gasps. She spun out slightly, drawn back into his arms with one insistent tug. The handsome couple fit hips together, turning in a tight circle as their feet moved to the beat.

A male singer was crooning about his lover taking him back, the flowing language fitting the scene much more than clipped English. Forge lost himself in the beat, in the creature so willing in his arms. There could be nothing but her. Blood roared through his veins, answering the mating call Ororo was beating against his body.

Time meant nothing, lost in the changing beats, the smooth vocals, the writhing bodies. No one in the room existed when Ororo met his gaze with heat, with passion. She put her hands on his skin, lighting little fires everywhere she touched. God, if she didn’t stop they would end up naked on the backseat of his rental.

Sweat slicked her already heated skin as song after song seduced them. By the time they might have wanted dinner, Forge could barely remember his own name, much less where the hell they were. She leaned closer, whispering in flawless Spanish.

“Take me home. Now.�

Aflame, Forge yanked her closer, his human hand grasping her backside.

“Gracias a Dios.

~**~

They fell into his rented penthouse, already clawing at the silk between them. Ororo’s mouth was hot on his, her teeth grazing his bottom lip until he groaned. The short drive from their missed dinner nearly killed him. Like a cat in heat, Ororo continually dragged her hands over him, lips teasing at the shell of his ear until he nearly wrapped the rental around a telephone pole.

“Now,� she demanded as the door slammed shut behind them. “Bed.�

“No,� Forge shook his head, even as he dragged her to the plush carpeting. “Here. Now. God.�

All lust, they grappled together on the foyer, stopping only when they managed to knock into a wall. It barely slowed the couple down. Ororo ripped the shirt from his body, the delicate material snagging on his bionic arm.

He dragged the straps of that damn dress down, latching his mouth onto a satin-covered breast the moment it was within reach. Ororo cried out, arching toward him as though offering all the delights her flesh could provide. He took without shame, tasting the salty, fragrant flesh as the satin slipped down.

Music pounded through his head, mingling with the desire-fueled lust. Her deft hands flicked the belt buckle of his trousers open, the zip drawn down in almost the same move. Shifting so she could pull the material down, Forge fused his mouth to hers. That taste burned into his memory, her taste. It would ever remind him of this moment, when the world fell away and Ororo Munroe was his.

Impatient, he let his hands fall to her thighs, even as his tongue pried her lips apart. Groping, he hooked the flimsy silk of her panties and tugged. His mouth kissed a path down the cloth covering her body, feeling her flex and shudder beneath. Once her panties were off, her dress hiked up several inches, he settled between dark thighs and feasted.

“Jesus!� His lover bowed her back, leaning up and crying out. Her head thrashed against the carpet, heeled legs coming up to wrap about his shoulders.

Closing his eyes, giving in to the wonderfully sinful taste of her, Forge worked his lips and tongue over the hardened bud. Ororo shivered, shook, begged him for more. He obliged willingly, taking her over that first climax in seconds.

Without waiting for her to recover, he reared up. Balancing on one arm, he cupped her cheek, holding her in place for another toe-curling kiss. She gave herself up to him, opening and twitching.

He plunged inside, groaning with the pleasure into her mouth. Ororo clamped warm and wet around him, drawing him deeper, deeper. Hips met with forced again and again. He thrust against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Mile-long legs encircled his waist, pulling him closer. Ororo’s hands grasped his shoulders, holding on even as she gave him more.

Together, overcome with sensation, they flew off the edge.

Chapter Five: �ngeles y Diablos

Sunny days
Everybody loves them
Tell me
Can you stand the rain?
Storms will come
This we know for sure
Can you stand the rain?
~Boyz II Men


They made it to his bed around three in the morning, after interrupting themselves twice on the way. Ororo pulled on Forge’s shirt, doing up what buttons remained from her passionate yank of the delicate material.

Stretching in the early light, Ororo grinned to herself. She felt wonderfully loose and decadently abused. Her body no longer screamed for touch, but asked politely as though it knew someone nearby would gladly comply. She popped several bones in her back, running a hand through sleep and passion-tousled hair. On bare feet, Ororo padded from his bedroom, following the sound of a coffee grinder.

Forge stood in his massive kitchen, bare to the waist where his low-slung jeans remained unbuttoned. His long hair, unbound, grazed his shoulders, making her smile as she paused in the entrance. This, she thought, a girl could get used to.

“Good morning,� she said in that curiously quiet tone most use in the early hours. “Did I hear coffee?�

“Hello, gorgeous,� Forge greeted, leaning down to kiss her lips. “Be ready in a minute. Want some breakfast?�

Nodding, Ororo stole another kiss, letting her hand drop to his bionic arm. Though he usually wore long sleeves to hide his invention, Ororo knew he was comfortable in her presence to leave the pretenses at the door. He’d lost an arm and leg during the Gulf War, but fashioned his own limbs with the help of his mutation.

Forge could, and frequently did, invent anything he could think of. She watched in awe when he created modern marvels like the Danger Room, finding the intellectual Forge almost irresistible. It wasn’t easy, she decided, loving one man while sleeping with another.

No. She wasn’t going to think about Scott now. He had no place in bed with Ororo and Forge. Her heart had separate compartments. He’d never loved her, never known. So why the twinge of guilt?

Ororo forced the thoughts away, taking eggs from the refrigerator and handing them to Forge. They were comfortable in the silence, neither needing to fill the space up with small talk. He whipped up omelets as she poured coffee, slipped thick slices of sourdough bread into the toaster. Bodies bumped companionably, smiles immediate and telling.

When at last their meal was finished, they sat across from one another at the wide, tiled breakfast bar. Forge’s kitchen tended toward masculinity, complete with a sandy palette that ranged from near-white to deep chocolate. Sunlight poured through curtain-less windows, the breeze drifting inside courtesy of the propped up glass.

They ate in the same companionable silence for several minutes, but by the slight crease to Forge’s brow, she knew questions were forthcoming. Ororo did not mind talking with Forge – even telling him a few of her secrets – for he always dispensed sound advice and sometimes-brutal truth.

“Forge?� She asked after swallowing a mouthful of egg. “What is it?�

To his credit, her companion was not startled or taken aback. He merely swallowed, giving her a small, understanding smile.

“I got a call from Henry yesterday,� he began easily. “He seemed to think something happened at the school.�

Reminded of Logan and his midnight romp, she scowled slightly. “Wolverine.�

“Ah.� Forge answered as though that explained everything. “What did he do this time?�

Moodily, angry that Logan now plopped into the proverbial bed Forge and Ororo shared, she stabbed at her eggs and viciously bit a chunk of her buttered toast. Dark eyes were laughing at her from across the table, but his human hand stretched across the tile to cover hers.

“He brought a one-night stand home, in front of the children.� She explained, the memory of the ensuing argument still as fresh as the blow to her pride. “We had…words over it.�

“Where did you hide the body?� He smirked into his coffee cup before taking a long sip.

Amused and relieved to find her anger quickly dissipating, Ororo grinned back. “I retrained myself, if only because Charles, for some reason, loved him.�

Perhaps he caught the hitch in her tone, for Forge gently squeezed her captured fingers. Drawing on his strength, Ororo returned the gesture. She was reminded, with a fresh wave of unwelcome pain, that Forge lost his mentor that awful day as well. Hadn’t he lost friends in Scott and Jean as well? How could three people have touched so many lives?

“Charles had a soft spot for the hard cases,� Forge offered quietly. “You and I are proof enough of that.�

Because her heart hurt, she deflected quickly, knowing he wouldn’t be offended. “Logan and I get along fairly well on a daily basis…usually. In fact, we find that mutually ignoring one another works the best for all involved.�

Forge sighed, shaking his head. “You’re both stubborn to a fault.�

Ororo scowled at him. “I know and I understand that the two of us need time…but to sleep with a girl barely older than Kitten? In the mansion?�

He chuckled softly. “So it’s better to stay out all night? To come home wearing the same thing you wore out the night before?�

She gave him a slow smile. “At least I am not parading you around in Logan’s face this morning.�

“Maybe you should.� Dark brows waggled teasingly. “Might do him some good.�

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at him in faux dismay. “You’re awful.�

“Ashamed of me?� Forge pouted. “I’m hurt, my Windrider. Absolutely destroyed.�

“Oh, poor baby.� She stood sinuously, skirting the table as he backed the stool from it. Dropping into his lap, she draped her arms over his shoulders. “Shall I kiss it better?�

His hands – human and bionic – grasped at her hips. She wiggled enticingly, as though telling him without words that she very much welcomed a repeat of the previous evening. He leaned up, capturing her lips in a kiss that sent her blood boiling. Ororo melted, shifting on the barstool until her bare feet found purchase on the rungs.

“I want you again,� Forge panted against her lips when they parted for air. “I want to be inside you.�

“Please.� She whimpered as his human hand slipped under the borrowed shirt, cupping a breast familiarly. “Take me.�

Forge grunted, the bulge in his jeans hardening under her bare backside. Ororo shifted, dropping her hands to his lap so she could yank the zipper down. Her lover nuzzled the material of her shirt apart, lips catching one dark nipple. When he sucked, hard, on the distended flesh, Ororo threw her head back to gasp his name.

Knowing his bionic arm could support her weight, she arched her back even as hands tugged on his jeans. They managed to get him undressed to the knees, his aching cock nestled between her thighs. Forge’s hot mouth worked over one breast before moving to the other, leaving a trail of wetness in his wake.

Heat pumped through her deprived system, arousal coating his thighs until he groaned her name. Lifting herself by bracing both hands on his shoulders, Ororo positioned her body above his cock, only to take him inside with one quick shimmy. Twin groans resonated in the quiet kitchen. Ororo rose again, drawing a long moan from her lover’s lips.

He lifted and dropped her, allowing gravity to do some of the work while they made love. Hot and heavy inside her, Forge tossed out all thought, all reason. She knew only lust, only the pleasure of being touched. Flesh struck flesh as they moved together on the barstool, Forge’s fingertips digging into her hips as she rode him.

She swooped down, tugging on his hair until he released her breast so she could capture his mouth with hers. His tongue dueled madly with hers, even over the pleading whimpers of pleasure he brought from her throat. Fire raced all over her skin, originating where they joined.

“Harder. More.� Wanton, wild, she placed the demands against his lips.

In answer, he slowed her frantic motions, disengaging so they could stand. Hands on her hips, he whirled her around so she could brace her hands on the tiled counter. Both hands smoothed over her bare backside before he shifted, plunging back inside. Ororo cried out, thrusting back against him in a desperate plea for more.

Sweat slicked over them both, Forge’s guttural grunts echoing over the distinct slap of skin. He leaned forward, pressing his bare chest into her back until his teeth latched onto her shoulder. Nails scraping the tile, she clenched around his cock deliberately.

“Fuck.� Forge rarely swore, and the thought that she drove him to it made her smile. “God, you’re so damn tight.�

“For you,� she breathily replied. “Goddess. Forge.�

He increased the already bruising pace, his human hand sliding from her hips in search of her swollen clit. She groaned when he found it, circling the tight bud expertly. Climax swept over Ororo in one brilliantly sudden wave. Shivering, weeping with it, she tightened even further around him, drawing him over the edge with her.

As breathing slowed, he slipped out of her. Ororo glanced over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes with a satisfied smile.

“I really need to spend the night more often.�

~**~

“Storm?�

Wolverine ducked his head into the kitchen, searching for the school’s Headmistress. Usually at this time on a Saturday morning, she was discussing the next week’s schedule with Psylocke.

All night, his little epiphany bothered him. He’d been up during the long, dark hours, wondering how he could have possibly missed it. There had always been something between Storm and Cyclops. They were close, to the point that Logan assumed they regarded one another as siblings – kindred spirits.

Now, he wondered how off base that assessment was. He’d thought back to the night he found Ororo destroying her photographs in her bedroom. Which ones were they? A flash of red hair and an adoring smile seemed the only recollections he had. It wasn’t just grief that sent her into that tirade, it was rage.

Fury at Jean? For what? Dying or killing Scott?

It was then that he put the rest of it together. Logan, having loved and lusted someone he could never have, understood Storm a little more. He hated thinking it, remembering the proud Cyclops always brought back pain. He’d been so damn concerned with Jean that Scott’s death barely registered to him. It wasn’t until weeks later the enormity of that loss hit him. Scooter might have gotten on his nerves, but he did respect that man.

Remembering his tossed off “Where’s Scott?� to the tortured Phoenix still burned. “Where’s Scott?� No emotion, just mild curiosity. What kind of asshole made out with a woman that just killed her fiancé? Sometimes, just rarely, Wolverine made himself sick.

“She’s not here.� A soft, British drawl answered his forgotten question. “Need somethin’?�

Spotting Betsy lounging in her weekend uniform of soft sweats and a plain t-shirt, Logan shrugged. Storm tended to be regular as the tide, so where the hell was she? If she decided to avoid him, he’d just have to track her down. They needed to talk, before his over-active imagination started putting things together best left alone.

He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to know what might have been between Scott and Storm.

“Where’s she at?� Logan demanded, a touch meaner than he’d intended.

His constants were supposed to be just that. Constant. Storm suddenly not adhering to her own set schedule set his teeth on edge.

What did he expect? She’d already bailed on him for an entire weekend and verbally ass-reamed him for not only bringing home some one-night-stand, but breaking Angel’s wing. Huh. Maybe he should avoid her for a while. All they did when face-to-face was argue.

“Hopefully, she’s getting her knickers torn off by that delicious, Spanish-speaking Adonis she left with last night.� Psylocke’s violet eyes danced. “What’s up, Wolf-Man?�

Logan saw red. “She’s done what?�

The telepath tilted her head, her mind touching Logan’s with that now-familiar caress. As though she picked up on his emotions, she arched a brow.

“Had a hot date last night, which I’m hoping ran over til this mornin’.� Psylocke answered, unconcerned. “Needed to get her system shocked, if ya know what I mean.�

“Wait a minute,� Logan held up a hand, taking a step toward the woman. “She went out to get fucked after the yellin’ she gave me?�

“Actually,� came the drawl from behind him. “I went out to dinner with a dear friend and decided to spend the night. Did you need something, Wolverine?�

Oh, to hell with her and that distant, placating tone. Logan whirled on the balls of his feet, facing the decidedly rumpled weather-goddess leaning in the doorway. She wore a wrinkled red dress and heels that made her legs look two miles long. Her hair was damp from a recent shower, makeup scrubbed off. Her scent drifted toward him, unmistakably mingled with a male odor. Logan sneezed.

“We need to talk.�

Ororo merely smiled, tilting her head past him to catch Betsy’s glance. “Good morning.�

“’Ello, luv. Have a nice…dinner?� Logan nearly growled at the amusement in the other mutant’s tone.

“I’ll fill you in later.� Storm said with an airy shake to her head. Her eyes came back to Logan’s, her smile never faltering. “I have a moment to talk, I suppose. But then I must get to the Danger Room for a training session.�

“Fine. Whatever.� Logan growled, hearing Psylocke chuckle behind him, as Storm turned to move down the hall.

She stopped to speak to a few students, saying a lengthy “hello� to the blushing Leech. Logan’s knuckles cracked, the effort of holding his tongue almost too much. Anger swelled in his chest, desperately needing release.

He wanted to strangle that pretty, male-scented woman. When she darted into her office, Logan followed, slamming the door behind him. She was humming, even as she ducked into the private bathroom in the back of her office, where she kept a spare change of clothes.

“You wanna explain yourself?� He demanded on a shout.

“Keep your voice down,� Storm snapped. He heard the rustle of clothing, the tap of her shoes hitting the tile.

A moment later, she emerged from the bathroom, dressed almost identically to Psylocke. Soft sweats topped off with a gray Xavier’s hoodie. She’d zipped it up, stuffed her hands into the pockets. Where moments ago, she looked ravished and womanly, she seemed now so innocent.

That just irritated him more.

“So,� he began, hooking thumbs into his jeans pockets and rocking back on his heels. “You go out, you get laid, everything’s dandy. I go out, I get laid, and St. Helens erupts. Wanna clarify this for me?�

To her credit, Storm didn’t flinch from his gaze, from the raw growl to his tone. She merely stood there, unashamed, defenseless and met his eyes unwaveringly. He’d give her tribute for the way she met any obstacle. Head on, fearless, right in the eye.

“I merely asked that you not bring your girlfriend to the mansion,� she replied smoothly. “My relationship with Forge is no one’s business but my own. I like to keep it that way.�

Something in her coolly aloof tone make Logan’s teeth hurt. He could see it now, the way she covered up the ache. Her eyes weren’t quite as detached as the rest of her face. He vividly noticed the sorrow, the longing, the hurt she carefully hid every, single day. Logan knew about that kind of pain. He lived with it himself.

He didn’t want to get into this, but found himself completely unable to stop. All the thoughts of Chuck, of Cyke, of Jean melded and mingled in his head until they fused with Storm. Angry that she dared open him up to the guilt – the grief – all over again Logan did as he was apt to. Setting his jaw, lifting his chin, he spoke without the benefit of thinking first.

“You think it’ll stop the pain?�

She startled at that. Visibly. Logan felt the rush of victory and pushed on.

“Fuckin’ someone else don’t help, not in the long run. Sure, gives the body somethin’ to do, but that don’t ease the hurt.� He paused, scarcely noticing the rage overtaking her, the swirl of dark clouds behind her, visible through the parted curtains of her window. “I figured out your dirty little secret, Storm.�

“Oh?� Her tone was deadly. “What do you think you know?�

Logan paused again, tilting his head slightly to study her. The posture still seemed relaxed, but the gradual tightening of every muscle left her rigid. The thin, hard line of her mouth spoke volumes of tenuous control, frost already threatening to overcome deep, cocoa eyes.

“How long?� His voice dropped to a whisper. “How long were you in love with Scott?�

As though someone stopped time, the entire room froze. Storm stared at him, her face reflecting the emotions he rarely got the chance to see. Fear. Realization. Anger. Pain. Loss. He catalogued every muscle twitch, every line, as though deciphering it would bring him the answer to the question he really wanted to ask.

When she moved, it was slowly. She came across the room, clearing the several feet between them without breaking eye contact or making a sound. Logan tensed, wondering if he’d pushed too far, too soon. But her face slid back into the expressionless mask, even as she came to a stop not six inches from body-collision.

“How dare you.�

“Me?� Logan shot back, reminded of his last conversation with Scott so long ago. “You’re the one out fuckin’ someone else when Scott’s barely cold.�

“Oh, you bastard.� There might have been tears in her tone, but the thunder destroyed it. “You’re one to speak. You chased a woman clearly spoken for. I, at least, had the respect for both to keep my goddamn mouth shut.�

“You think that’s respect?� As he had that day in his bedroom, he hauled Storm up by the biceps, backing her into the nearby wall. “You were too chickenshit to go for what you wanted.�

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,� she fired back. “Take. Your. Goddamn. Hands. Off. Of. Me.�

Because the pure, undiluted hatred in her eyes, her voice, shocked him, Logan released her immediately. She continued to glare, but kept her body back against the wall. Their breathing turned ragged, as a million hurtful insults trampled through both minds.

The skies were clear again, but Logan could sense that the storm had yet to pass. The mutant in front of him inhaled shakily several times and he thought he could distantly hear her counting under her breath as though fighting for control.

“You will never,� she began quietly. “Ever tell anyone what was said here. Do you understand me?�

“Yeah,� Logan nodded, unsure he would ever desire to. “I got it.�

They stood face-to-face for several more seconds, anger rising between them. Logan suppressed the sudden urge to run for his room, pack, and take off on Scott’s old bike. He wanted to be here, close to the people he’d fought beside, fought for. Storm and her fuming eyes weren’t going to chase him away from what he wanted. The mansion, as they had proved before, could be big enough for the both of them.

Logan finally turned to leave, stopping at the doorway to look over his shoulder as he had that night in her bedroom.

“Hurts, don’t it?� He whispered without thinking.

“What?�

“Lovin’ someone so much you hate them. For leavin’, for takin’ a piece of ya with ‘em.� He exhaled sharply, turning his back on her again. “Never felt anything so bad.�

“I don’t hate him.� Ororo defended.

“No,� he agreed, opening the door. “You just hate her.�

He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him with a bang.

~**~

There is an oddly feminine ritual that surrounds “dressing up�. Whenever a woman whom enjoys the company of other women admits she has a hot date – or charity function with a best friend – females rally around her to ensure she knocks up someone’s blood pressure.

Kitty stood in her underwear, blinking dazedly as Marie, Betsy, and Ororo all rushed about her bedroom. She wasn’t quite sure how things progressed this far out of hand, but in her confusion, she allowed the eldest females at Mutant High to do their worst.

“Ok,� Betsy was saying as she produced two long garment bags. “I’ve got sophisticated black or bright and pretty gold.�

“Lets see them,� Storm requested while pawing through Kitty’s makeup bag.

Psylocke immediately opened the first bag, revealing a long, slinky dress in deep ebony. Kitty moved forward, regarding the choice carefully. The bodice was square-cut, leaving the shoulders and arms bare save for two thick straps. It would hug her meager curves and nearly hit the floor due to height difference, but the long slit up one thigh seemed a little too…Betsy for her taste.

“Next.� Marie prompted while looking through the two-dozen shoeboxes all three women dug out of various closets.

The gown looked to be spun of pure gold; a happily rich color that Kitty feared might make her skin look even paler. But the bodice rounded in a scallop shape, thin straps holding everything up so that the gossamer material draped like clouds. It would fall to the floor, but with the cut and style that whispered around curves, it would seem as though it meant to.

“Oh, wow.� Marie said, popping her head up from where she sat surrounded by shoes. “I like it. Try it on, Kitty.�

The girl in question fidgeted. “I don’t know…it’s so bright.�

“Come on.� Storm intervened, setting her wineglass down on the dresser. “Lets see how it looks on.�

“Wait,� Betsy ordered with uncommon severity. “We’ll need a strapless bra. Push up, if we can manage it so the top'll drape just right.�

“On it!� Marie rushed from the room, her steps bouncing.

Kitty worried a lip between her teeth, glancing at the two elder women. It wasn’t like the athletic, tomboy to be found surrounded by feminine things. She tended to migrate toward the billiard games, tackle football and X-Boxes. The very idea of getting dressed up, while fun, scared the bejesus out of her. What if she tripped on that long hem? Could she even walk in heels? When was the last time she worried about strapless bras?

“I can’t do this,� she whined. “I’ll embarrass Warren!�

“No, you won’t,� replied Storm kindly. “You’re selling yourself short, sweetie.�

“Besides,� Betsy chimed in. “Its not every day you get to waltz down a red carpet on the arm of Mr. Hunky Wings.�

Storm snorted out a laugh, glancing to her friend. “What?�

Betsy gave her a blasé shrug. “Well, he is. Hell-bait or not, the kid’s got style. Not to mention he looks like Gabriel just fell from the bloody heavens. Shite. Can I go in your place, little Kitten?�

Slightly relaxed by Betsy’s wit and the slow, easy cadence of her voice, Kitty exhaled. The dress did seem so pretty. Wouldn’t it be fun to look like a million bucks, walk down a red carpet like a movie star? She’d get to hold one of those stupidly tiny girly purses, hike up her height with some ridiculous shoes.

She might, perish the thought, feel like a girl for a few hours.

“Ok!� Marie rushed back into the room, startling Kitty from her thoughts. “Found a strapless bra and, for bonus points, a matchin’ garter belt to keep the stockin's up. You’ve got some sheer hose right?�

Kitty blinked, panic swelling her heart again. “Sheer what?�

Betsy, Ororo, and Marie all sighed in unison, as though their project was just shy of completely hopeless.

“All right, no one panic.� Storm interjected, holding her hands up. “This calls for drastic measures, ladies. Troops, fall in!�

Comically, so Kitty would laugh, Marie and Betsy snapped to attention. Kitty covered her mouth to hide the smile, but appreciated the humor. She wanted to have fun, to be a woman, but…oh, she really didn’t want to cause Warren any more shame.

“Marie, go into my room. Third drawer there are some thigh-highs that I haven’t worn with a gold tint. Bring those. Betsy, my closet…�

Psylocke’s eyes immediately went misty. “The…the Holy Grail of Shoes? Hold me, I may faint.�

“On the right hand side, second shoe shelf, there is a very special box with the name Jimmy Choo on the side. Not the red ones, the gold ones.�

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!� Both women rushed from the room, tripping over themselves as they did so.

Storm then turned to the even more frightened Kitty. “All right. Go wash your face, put on the bra and the belt. Come back out here and I’ll put you into that beautiful John Galliano.�

Kitty whimpered again. “You’re putting me, all knees and elbows, into designer shoes and a gown that probably cost more than my parents’ house?�

Her mentor grinned, patting her shoulder gently. “There’s something very fun about dressing up in overpriced shoes and gowns.� She paused, looking far away for several seconds.

“Storm?� Kitty asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

She turned to the younger mutant, smiling slightly. Pain reflected in those dark eyes, making a lump form in Kitty’s throat. She rubbed at her mentor’s arm, enjoying the new facet of their relationship since Alcatraz. Instead of the distance between student and teacher, as Kitty came of age, Storm shifted until she was friend and sister.

“I was thinking about the first time Charles insisted I put on a damn dress,� she chuckled tearfully. “It was a fabulous little Armani number. Jean nearly brow beat me into these mile-high heels…I resisted at every turn, but in the end, that Senate function wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought.�

“Ah,� Kitty grinned, feeling her eyes well up as she remembered her teachers. “That’s where the shoe addiction kicked in.�

“My Achilles Heel, dear.� Storm patted her cheek fondly. “I was much like you. I wanted to be outside in the dirt – well, the sky – rather than tucked into uncomfortable clothing.�

“What changed that?� The younger woman asked softly.

Storm grinned wickedly. “When I came down the stairs, Charles let his mouth fall open and Scott gulped audibly. After that, I couldn’t get enough of clothes.�

Kitty laughed with her, sharing the oddly intimate moment as they remembered those they lost. Deciding if Storm could do it, she could, she steeled her spine and nodded.

“Ok, lets get this freak show on a roll.�

Storm’s smile lit up her entire face, chasing away the lingering sorrow.

“That’s my girl.�


~**~

While it took a small army and several hours to prepare Kitty for the event, Warren needed only a shower, a shave, and a fresh set of boxers. He pulled on the suit he’d purchased, with his father’s good taste, and ran a hand through his hair.

The rounded collar of his midnight blue dress shirt suited the length of his neck, or so the shop owner insisted. Deep navy linen covered his legs with the trademark Armani break in the hem. The jacket matched, topped off at the wrists with cufflinks that were his mother’s way of saying: “I’m terribly sorry I nearly allowed your father to destroy you, have some diamonds.�

No. He refused to think about that now. He would go to the damn event, shake hands, smile, laugh, and have fun if only because Kitty’s presence ensured it. He couldn’t wait to see her light up at the sights and sounds of a new experience.

If his father hadn’t started the charity for young mutants in need, he might have ignored the entire affair. But Storm quickly instilled a sense of responsibility in all those around her. Warren felt, though he’d been hidden from the world by a father’s fear, that he owed it to mutants around the world to be proud of himself.

Twitching wings were showcased tonight. Such a display was the condition upon which he agreed to attend the benefit. If he were going to support mutants, he’d wear his mutation out in the open for all to see. There would be no more hiding, even if it cost him everything.

That, he mused with a grin into the mirror, might have been Kitty’s influence.

Deciding he looked as ready as he would get, Warren left his room and rolled his shoulders. The miniscule break in his right wing barely ached, for which he was grateful. Logan gave him an apology in the form of a: “You doin’ ok, kid?�

For men, that said it all.

As he jogged quickly down the stairs, checking his Rolex for the time, he heard a distinctly male whistle of appreciation a beat before a camera flash blinded him.

Blinking away the spots before his eyes, Warren shook his head. Peter, Bobby, and Artie stood by the door, the latter with a camera in his hands. They clapped and whooped, so Warren stopped on the stairs, turning so they could get a full view of him. Wings and all.

“You clean up nice, War.� Bobby teased, nudging Colossus. “Looks like a rich pretty boy now, don’t he?�

“Quite,� Peter smirked, dropping Warren a friendly wink. “Should we get your coat, Mr. Worthington?�

“Buttheads,� Warren shot back with a smile, ruining any sophistication with the crass remark. “Kitty down yet?�

“Ya know,� Artie said with his arm companionably resting on Bobby’s shoulder. “For being all dressed up in that fancy suit, he doesn’t know a thing about girls.�

“So true,� Bobby replied sadly. “Come on, Angel, you know a girl likes to make an entrance.�

“Katya may play football and kick our collective back-ends at Halo, but she is still female.� Peter’s grin turned downright knowing.

Wait. What did he know? Was Warren wearing his heart on his sleeve? That couldn’t be good. He had to take a proverbial step back before he hurt his friends.

Tomorrow, he thought quickly, things would go back to normal tomorrow. He needed only to get through this night, affectionate teasing and all.

“We’ll be late,� Warren deflected, glancing at his watch. “Has the limo arrived yet?�

“Yes,� Peter answered, nodding over his shoulder to the door. “The driver is waiting outside. I thought to offer you my car, but…�

Touched and hating himself a little, Angel smiled a thank you. “Dad insists that we use a limo. He wants to be sure that once I’m there, I can’t escape.�

Peter slapped his shoulder companionably. “At least you know a girl that can walk through walls.�

“Uh. Um. Hrm.� Bobby’s dumbfounded expression mirrored Artie’s when Warren turned to look at them. “Can she in that dress?�

“Sweet Jesus,� Artie whispered reverently. “Hellllooo, Kit-Kat.�

Turning slowly, so he would not seem over eager, Warren looked to the staircase. His mind immediately blanked out, lost in folds of gold fabric and that cat-in-the-cream smile. Kitty descended with the grace of an imperial princess, her gown whispering around her legs in a quiet, seductive call.

She’d pulled her long, brown hair into an elegant twist with bangs parted to one side over her narrow forehead. The smooth column of her throat drew a line from her face to the modest neckline of her gown, as though demanding that a man stop and stare.

Earrings, which he’d never before seen her wear, dangled in shimmering gold from her lobes, matching the single bracelet on one wrist. She clutched a tiny gold purse in the opposite hand, using the other to maintain balance on the stairs.

The feminine satisfaction in her smile told Warren she’d gotten the reaction she hoped for.

“Hello, boys.� Kitty drawled playfully. “Something wrong?�

“I think the word we’re all searching for,� Artie replied breathlessly. “Is “gulp�.�

She blushed prettily, the rosy hue only accentuating the creamy color of her flesh.

“Warren?�

“You look great,� he complimented lamely. Deciding his friend deserved more, he reigned in his male appreciation. “You’re going to make every man in New York sit up and beg.�

That made the rosy flush deepen. “Thanks.�

“All right, kids,� Bobby cut in loudly, his glee almost palpable. “Artie, snap one of the happy couple.�

Kitty came to Warren’s side, entwining her fingers with his and curling into his arm familiarly before he could resist. Going with the flow, “happy couple’ ringing through his head, Warren did his best to smile as Artie snapped a photograph. The youngest of the group still looking at Kitty as though she’d morphed into something both alien and devastating.

“Perfect,� the comedian of the group continued. “Now, no drinking, no drugs, no ritual animal slaughter of any kind, and bring her back before midnight.�

“Why midnight?� Warren laughed as he ushered his date out the door.

“Cinderelly turns into a pumpkin, duh.� Bobby winked and slammed the door behind them.

“Our friends,� Kitty whispered as they moved toward the sleek black limousine. “Are totally nuts.�

“Would you want them any other way, Miss Pryde?� He asked, holding the door with one hand while the other took hers to help her inside.

Kitty beamed. “Not a chance, Mr. Worthington.�

Chapter Six: The Sun Goes Down

You’re not alone, together we stand
I’ll be by your side, you know I’ll take your hand
When it gets cold, and it feels like the end
There’s no place to go, you know I won’t give in
Keep holding on
~Avril Lavigne


Not very often did Storm find herself with idle hours. Pressures of Xavier’s legacy could press in on all sides, forcing her to look after endless details and limitless demands. She never wanted such responsibility, preferred instead to allow Charles to groom Scott into his heir apparent.

But after seeing to Kitty, after the children were tucked into beds and young adults lounging in the Den with a Die Hard marathon, she found herself out of things to do. Paperwork was complete, emails and faxes answered, bills paid. She managed to work all through the day following Wolverine’s startling admission, clearing everything from her desk in a matter of hours. Though she adored being caught up, she fervently wished for something else to occupy her time.

So it was with great resolve and the comfort of her Snoopy pajamas that Ororo found herself leaning over the pool table, a cue held expertly between her fingers. Forge was off in Washington for the next few days, or so he explained from the plane. She wasn’t sure if they were really “on again� this round of if she’d simply used him for a spectacular one-night stand. Either way, Storm thought perhaps solitude was the order of the evening.

Shutting out the noise from the Den by closing the enormous French doors, she slipped in a disc of Linkin Park, to be quickly followed by Red Hot Chili Peppers and Staind. Her music tastes continually amused the children in her care, many of them shocked and appalled that someone her age knew whom in the name of the Goddess Nickelback was. Ororo loved music and subscribed to no particular genre. If she heard a song and happened to like it, the CD became part of her expansive collection.

Loreena McKennitt did wonders for anxiety, often found drifting through her office while she worked. Her fondness for the chimes and drums of Deep Forest usually followed her into the greenhouses. Styx, Journey, Aerosmith, and Queen continually screamed out of car speakers or her bedroom when she went on a cleaning spree.

The nu-metal phase might be recent, but she found it particularly useful when one was feeling slightly off-balance, a lot depressed, and somewhat irritated. A person could lose herself in Chester Bennington’s hearty wails and gut-wrenching screams. It happened to be a late-night billiard game favorite for the school’s headmistress.

Usually when Linkin Park or the Chili Peppers blared from the speakers, the students gave her wide berth. There was a time, not so long ago, when her musical choice might bring Scott from the comfort of his bed to the Rec Room. He never asked, but gave blissful silence while shooting pool. Those memories were with her tonight.

Mike and Chester started off one step closer to the edge as she broke the racked balls, scattering them over the deep felt with a crack of satisfaction. Ororo eyeballed the arrangement, skirted the table, bent at the waist and took another shot.

Thinking about Scott brought almost unbearable sorrow tonight. She didn’t know how she felt about Wolverine’s sudden understanding and harsh diatribe. He’d been so correct, she thought heatedly. She hated Jean. That simple, undeniable truth brought the weight of guilt fully onto her heart.

In life, Jean had been the sister Ororo always wanted. Their early years in Xavier’s haven brought them closer than blood relations, clinging to one another in absence of familial normalcy. It was Storm that first broke through Jean’s sorrow, to understand how her power terrified the young girl until it drove her close to madness. Ororo remembered so many nights lying awake in the room they shared, huddled under flashlights reflected on the ceiling, sharing all those secrets they would never repeat.

As they grew into adulthood, their similar likes and interests caused a minor rift. Ororo paused, her torso flattened to the table. No, she admitted. Storm herself caused the rift, knowing how the brilliant redhead felt about their cycloptic brother. She stepped aside when it seemed Scott returned those feelings, letting her heart break at the same time it rejoiced.

When Jean got bogged down in her medical training, Ororo and Scott inched closer, a bond forged with the absence of their missing family. He’d loved her, Ororo mused with a fresh wave of pain. Oh, Scott loved the beautiful, extraordinary Jean. Though he always kept Storm included, an eager part of their little family, there was that little voice in the back of her head that continued to tell her she’d never be good enough for him.

Had she given in, there might have been more resentment for the bubbly happiness her dear friends were saturated in. Instead, she drifted toward safe relationships, never having to give more than she wanted to. Physical pleasure in lieu of love, companionship where there might be romance. She liked it that way, need it that way.

All because the man she foolhardily fell for loved someone else.

In all those years, neither Scott nor Jean ever caught on to what dwelled in her heart. They assumed she wasn’t ready for love, for the steadfast type of relationship they had. Even Charles did not know until far too late in the game. Had she hidden it that well? Or did they simply not care enough to notice?

Somewhat shamed by her tortured, nasty thoughts, Ororo knocked the 8-ball into a side pocket. She knew they loved her, each of her departed friends. A family like no other, she thought, reminded of Bobby’s showdown with Wolverine before the battle.

X-Men? What does that mean, aside from the X on your chest?

It means we fight to protect…

Those who hate and fear us? Yeah, I’ve heard that one, but it’s just words.

No, that’s not what it means. It means we’re a family. All of us and we fight as one or not at all. That’s what it means.

That speech, aided by Kitty’s interjection, proved to Ororo in one instant that she’d done the right thing. Iceman, one of the students longest under Xavier’s care, willingly set aside the grief, the uncertainty and told Wolverine exactly what the hell they fought for. She thought she might burst with pride in that moment, knowing how Charles would have loved hearing the usually-goofy Iceman lay down the law for Wolverine.

They handled themselves well, even when pitted against Magneto’s madness, bloodthirsty mutants and the limitless mental capacity of their old science teacher. Even when Wolverine laid the still-warm body of the Phoenix at her feet, the younger X-Men kept their wits. Kitty choked a little, Piotr blinked back unshed tears, and Bobby’s jaw set a hard edge. But they kept on fighting, helped the wounded, saved lives.

Her babies, Ororo thought, racking the billiards once more. They were growing up right before her eyes, a marvelous metamorphosis from awkward teenager to strong-willed adult. How wonderful to watch such a transformation, to help it along. Charles must have died a man of enormous pride, knowing what his life accomplished.

Had Bobby’s speech kept Logan locked into the mansion, unwilling to leave? Or was it her own determined face-off, demanding that if he was with them, to be with them. She needed him in that moment, needed someone to choose her over Jean. No matter how selfish the realization was Ororo knew it to be true. Jean had just killed the man they both loved and the only father they truly had. Wolverine couldn’t see past the end of his goddamn misery long enough to understand that with everything weighing her down, Storm needed one ally.

Just. One.

He turned his back as well, went after the untouchable Jean. God, that still got under her skin. He just walked out, left her to deal with the aftermath while chasing an insane mutant. Didn’t he understand? She was not their Jean any longer, but something twisted and dark. She never felt they found Jean alive, her dear friend died that day at Alkali Lake.

What came back was just a body, housing a diseased mind. She’d mourned once; she did not have enough heart left to grieve again.

Another crack sent the balls scattering, Ororo trying to order her thoughts as Chester wailed on. She idly scratched at a cotton-covered thigh, her low-slung pajamas resting at her hips. The long tunic she pulled over top covered her backside, keeping her comfortable even with the immunity to cold.

Logan knew. How ridiculous. She could lie by omission to everyone she’d known since coming to the United States, except Wolverine. He ferreted out her secret, held it out to her like a bloodied prize. Ororo hoped the idiot man realized that she lost as much, if not more, than he that terrible night in San Francisco. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost needed to be castrated with a white-hot cattle prod.

He would not tell anyone, she thought, leaning over the table again. Logan had at least some good manners, and besides, who the hell was he going to tell? Hating that her secret became his weapon, she tried to push it out of her mind. Wolverine was best kept at double arm’s length, carefully separated by walls and decorum. They needed one another to run the school, but both understood that friendship might just be too much to ask for.

An alarm brought her head up sharply, glaring at the ceiling. The deep, rhythmic hum of a Klaxon screamed throughout the mansion, alerting the X-Men that something was afoot. Without thinking, Ororo dropped her pool cue and bolted for the door. She slid it open far enough to slip into the hall, sprinting once she was free for the elevators to take her below.

Logan met her in the metallic hallways of the lower levels, the other two X-Men jogging up behind her. Ororo darted into Cerebro’s mainframe room, manipulating the keypad Forge installed just after the Professor’s death. She might not be a telepath, but the massive computer could still locate new mutants in danger and keep tabs on the X-Men away from the mansion.

“What is it?� Wolverine questioned, standing beside her in worn sweats and a bare chest.

Ororo’s eyes flickered over the information displayed, hitting the tab key to zoom the satellites on the distress signal of their beloved Shadowcat.

“Is that Kitten?� Logan growled, clenching his fists as he tried to keep up with Ororo’s quick search. “What’s goin’ on?�

She located what she was after, blinking in confusion. “Kitty and Warren are in some kind of trouble. Shadowcat activated her distress beacon. It looks like they’re still at the benefit.�

“Someone run outta caviar?� Bobby attempted to lighten the mood.

But Peter stared at the screen not bothering to blink. “No, but Warren did mention his father was worried about security.�

“Anti-Mutant?� Logan inquired, growling low in his throat.

“We’ll figure it out when we get there. Suit up.� Storm ordered her men, uploading the coordinates to the awaiting Blackbird. “Colossus will fly co-pilot.�

They nodded and dispersed quickly. Storm straightened her spine, remembering a quote Beast happened to be fond of.

Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more…

~**~


She felt like Grace Kelly, all glamour and beauty, locked in a world filled with flashing light and brilliant smiles. Surreal, that was the word. Like a life lived in a movie, she mused, concerned only with the swirl of bright colors and the vibrant hum of many voices.

A trip down the red carpet was unlike any experience she’d ever had. Cameras flashed, reporters and paparazzi screamed for Warren’s attention. He’d paused upon exiting the limo, stood proudly, smiled, waved. Like royalty, Kitty thought, though Prince William had nothing on the casual cool Warren kept through the whole affair.

He helped her from the car, bringing her fully into the light while the excited buzz reached pitched frenzy. “Who’s that, Warren!� “The Worthington heir with a brunette beauty on his arm!� “Warren! What’s her name? Look here, gorgeous!�

What a thrill. Standing next to Warren, his hand holding hers tightly as though to comfort or be comforted. She’d noted the dancing sparkle of his eyes and wondered if he took pleasure in seeing her completely enraptured. Her heart thudded quickly, the flashes of camera equipment blinding her to anything not centered on that carpet and it’s occupants. She smiled brightly, waved a little when shutters clicked excitedly.

Warren gave a few interviews, championing the mutant cause, which the benefit hosted. He spoke with affection of his father’s work outside of the laboratory, of his now “outed� status as a mutant. He released her hand so the reporters could snap pictures of those pure, angelic wings. Kitty was certain at least a dozen females in the vicinity sighed as though a beloved Bronte hero came suddenly to life.

He introduced her to several reporters, having asked before if she would mind her name plastered all over New England’s society pages linked with his. There might be talk, he’d explained quietly, of them dating. Kitty simply winked and replied: “There are worse people to be linked to, War. It’s no problem.�

No matter how utterly silly it was, Kitty had snapped several pictures of her own on that carpet, preserving the moment for tomorrow when everything seemed as though a dream. She caught Warren speaking to reporters, captured a few celebrities sympathetic to the cause, and asked for the reporters to cheer for her. Kitty thought they might consider her below Warren’s class, but his laughter assured her that he didn’t mind. He even grinned, leaned over the railing protecting the rich and famous from the cameras, putting bunny ears behind the head of a New York Times journalist.

That part was over now. Kitty looked around the expansive, gilded ballroom with a quick, dreamy grin. She fit right in with the posh environment, her fabulous John Galliano standing out among the primary clad women. She should have felt exposed, but instead reveled in the uniqueness.

“Doing ok?� Warren whispered as they eased through the crowd.

Kitty wished she had another five sets of eyes, wanting to see everything at once. The linen-draped tables set with thick candles and sprays of beautiful white lilies. Waiters in smart uniforms and matching bow ties holding trays of bubbly champagne circled through the crowd. Drapes of rich emerald velvet covered enormous French doors, each set leading to the tall balcony where one might indulge in a cigarette or breath of fresh air. A podium settled at the center of a long “high table� where the benefit’s hosts would be seated.

Everything was in various hues of deep green and rich gold. People filled the beautiful room, all of them dressed to the nines. Women donned gowns of varying lengths, styles, and colors, though black and white were principal. Jewels dangled from wrists and necks and earlobes, making Kitty wonder how much each person cost to dress this evening.

Men stood in delicious suits, each a dark shade, each covering a masculine form with high sophistication. Kitty never thought tuxedos or expensive suits were her taste, but looking around the room, she noted several men delicious enough to gobble up.

But Warren took the cake in all his virtuous glory. He stood so proudly, moved with a fluid grace that spoke of his upbringing. She glanced at him, beamed.

“I’m doin’ great. It’s like a fairytale!� Her exuberance widened his smile.

He held a crooked elbow out for her to take, making Kitty’s heart skip. “Well, you are Cinderella, so I guess it’s only fitting.�

She took his arm with the hand not clutching her purse, enjoying the refinement as she never thought possible. Storm was right; it did feel good to be a girl. “Does that make you my Prince Charming?�

Something passed over his blue eyes, here one moment and then gone the next. Kitty worried for an instant, but that “devil may care� grin chased doubt away.

“Come on, lets grace Mr. Worthington the Second with our presence and then go wander around the silent auction.�

Kitty bounced a little, careful to not wobble on her needle-thin heels. “I’ve always wanted to see a silent auction!�

Warren laughed, leading her through the crowd.

His father greeted them warmly, taking his son’s hand and introducing him to several politicians in the immediate area. Kitty smiled, flushed, when he kissed her hand.

“Why, Warren, you shouldn’t shock this old man,� he admonished teasingly. “A beauty like this shouldn’t be sprung on a man like that.�

Kitty felt her cheeks heat, but Warren only chuckled. “She sneaks up on you, Dad.�

“Katherine, is it?� The elder Worthington questioned, smiling benevolently.

“Kitty,� she corrected. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Warren talks about you all the time.�

“I must say the same, Warren speaks very highly of you.� He dropped his son a sly wink, which arched Kitty’s brow as she looked between them.

“Only believe about half of what he says,� she quipped with a saucy smirk. “He exaggerates sometimes.�

“Not by much,� Warren defended with a roguish smile.

There was tension here, she thought. The Worthington males were still at odds over a history neither could change. Frequent talks with Warren revealed that his father first learned of his son’s mutation the day Warren amputated his own wings. Startled by his son’s fear and sorrow, Worthington immediately began to develop a cure. Not because he hated his son’s condition, but because he thought Warren wanted a normal life.

Worthington seemed to understand now, for he gently stretched a hand and touched one pure white wing with tenderness. The feathers shivered with what Kitty could read as pleasure, the knowledge that his father loved and accepted him no matter the cost.

“Ah, Warren.�

Turning at the female voice, Kitty spotted the woman that could only be Warren’s mother. She was taller than Kitty by several inches, a slender frame tucked into an ebony dress that screamed cultured style. Her blonde hair cropped close to her face, curling delicately. Eyes of hard slate looked with interest to where Kitty stood beside Mr. Worthington as she kissed her son’s cheek.

Kitty could almost feel Warren tense. He called her distant, chilled during their private conversations. She might have helped him and his father come to terms with the mutation had she not been so concerned about what the country club would say. She, Warren told Kitty once, cared only for the lap of luxury. Kathryn Worthington married the name, not the man.

“Mother,� Warren said with a definite chill. Hearing this and her back rising in defense, Kitty took one step forward and protectively clasped Warren’s hand with hers. His fingers squeezed gently in thanks. “This is Katherine Pryde. She lives at Xavier’s as well. Kitty, this is my mother, Kathryn.�

“Interesting, we have the same name,� Kathryn smiled tightly. “It’s wonderful to meet you.�

“That is interesting and it’s a pleasure.� Kitty nodded; glad her hands were occupied to prevent a handshake. “Warren? Lets go browse the auction before dinner.�

“Of course, Kitty,� Warren shot her a look that spoke volumes. “Excuse us, Dad. Mother. We’ll see you at dinner.�

He led her away, Kitty grinding her teeth in an effort to control her sometimes-volatile temper. They eased through a door opposite the balcony, where long, linen-covered tables were covered with ledgers and items up for auction.

All proceeds would go to the Worthington Charity for Mutants in Need. Kitty kept her grip on Warren’s hand, glancing toward him when they looked over the items available for written bids.

“Sorry,� she muttered. “I have a hard time with tact and diplomacy.�

“It was great,� Warren chuckled softly, looking over a brochure advertising a trip for two to Prague. “Mom probably wanted you to say something stupid so she could shred you apart and deem you unworthy to everyone at a country club you don’t give a damn about.�

Kitty couldn’t help but giggle, eyeing a lovely painting donated by another wealthy family to the cause. “Now she’ll just say I was rude.�

“Rude? Nah.� Warren squeezed her hand again. “You were terse, but polite enough, though you seem to assume her only son is at your beck and call.�

“Aren’t you?� Kitty winked again. “I’m sorry you’re not closer.�

“At least they speak to me,� he replied with a heavy look.

“Hrmm. Point.� Not wanting her own parents to ruin the moment, she grabbed a pen and marked down a modest bid for the painting of Spanish Steps. “There did my part.�

“Do you want it?� He questioned, not looking up from whatever he was looking at beside her.

“You’re not buying me something,� Kitty countered, peeking at him. Did he have to be so handsome? So charming?

“Yes, dear.� He marked down his own bid, leading her through the rest of the auction until they’d sufficiently inspected everything.

She met scores of people, most of them won over by a winsome smile. Kitty filed every detail away for later, eager to tell Storm and Betsy and Marie all about it. Warren handed her a champagne flute with a ripe red cherry on the bottom, whispering that it was sparkling white grape juice for them both though they both turn twenty-one in just a few months.

They found place cards in front of the ballroom and Warren insisted on holding her chair out so she could sit. It was so easy to pretend this was somewhere she belonged, with the style and glamour. Warren’s easy charm made it so effortless to just melt into the prosperous crowd of his birth. She found herself wanting the night to never end, to be just a simple fairytale without the Disney addition of talking animals.

“Oh, my stars and garters.�

At the familiar phrase, both Kitty and Warren turned sharply. Beast, looking handsome in a deep black suit that offset his indigo fur pulled a beautiful raven-haired woman over to their table. Both younger mutants stood, embracing the man that fought beside them at Alkali Lake.

“What are you doing here?� Kitty asked, kissing his furry cheek.

“Ambassadorial responsibilities being what they are, I was invited,� he replied jovially. “Ah, this gorgeous woman beside me is Patricia Tilby. Patricia, meet Warren Worthington the Third and his companion Katherine Pryde.�

“Its wonderful to meet you,� said the slim, dark-haired Patricia with a warm smile. “Hank talks about you guys, all of the students, constantly.�

“That’s a little frightening,� Warren wisecracked with grin. “Whatever he’s told you, I didn’t do it.�

The group laughed, Hank and Patricia taking their seats with Warren and Kitty. Enjoying the adult conversation that immediately erupted, she sat back to enjoy her sparkling-cherry-tinted grape juice.

“Your father’s organization is working closely with the United Nations.� Hank explained as Patricia clasped his hand intimately. “I must say, I’m quite impressed with the level of thought he has put into this program.�

“It’s his baby,� Warren agreed easily. “At first I thought he was trying to cover up his mistake with the Cure, but he’s really committed to making it work. They’ll be breaking ground for the first new shelter next month.�

Because she knew little of this organization, Kitty listened intently.

“He is raising scores of money,� McCoy went on. “The cause is just and I do believe he has even begun a donation program to the school.�

Warren shot Kitty a look, which she arched her brows at. He flushed. “He asked me if there was some place I wanted him to donate to. Only place I could think of was Xavier’s School.�

“I’m sure Ororo appreciates it,� Patricia chimed in.

“I know she does,� Kitty added, smiling at both men.

“Of course, there are downsides,� Hank lowered his voice considerably. “Has he explained?�

“Somewhat,� Warren sighed. “These Friends of Humanity are the largest concern.�

“Patricia is working on a story about that fanatical group,� Hank replied with no short amount of pride. Kitty noticed the woman flush ever so slightly.

“Are you?� Warren asked, leaning closer. “In Depth, right? I thought I recognized you.�

“After that report I did on the fallout from the Cure, I was hoping you wouldn’t,� Patricia retorted good-naturedly.

Warren laughed. “It was a good story and I couldn’t find any misrepresentation aside from Dad being anti-mutant.�

“And you retracted it,� Kitty added, recalling the story.

“That I did,� she seemed pleased they knew her. “I’m hoping I can get lucky on this Friends of Humanity report. They’ve done everything but bomb your father’s offices or fire a bullet.�

“I fear it won’t be long off,� Kitty’s companion stated, prompting her to grasp his free hand under the table.

Almost unconsciously, she glanced about to locate Warren’s father. He spoke seriously with several important-looking people just across the room, near the far balcony. Why had Warren not told her someone threatened his father? Did he not want to worry her? Or was it none of her business?

When her gaze swung back to the table, she met Warren’s kind blue eyes, noticing there was apology written there. Arrested by the vivid blue and the warmth of his fingertips, Kitty’s breath caught in her chest. Betsy was right, he was so gorgeous. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Did Pete really cloud her vision so much?

Pete. Why hadn’t she so much as thought about the guy she was crazy about in the last several hours? She’d been consumed with Warren, swept off her feet. A girl could get used to that in a big, bad way.

“Kitty?�

Startled, the moment slipping by, she blinked and turned to Hank. Alerted by his suddenly rigid posture, she glanced around as though searching for trouble.

“Dr. McCoy?�

“Can you contact the mansion?� His question was a whisper; one that sent violent chills up Kitty’s spine.

She absently touched the metallic implant at the nape of her neck. “Of course. Why?�

Hank’s eyes met hers, then shot to Warren and Trish, both of whom looked alarmed. He took Patricia’s free hand, tugging her closer as he tilted his head, listening to something only audible to his preternatural ears.

“Contact Ororo. Now.�

Kitty did not have the will power to ignore the sharp command. She flicked the implant, sending a silent signal for help back to the X-Men. Warren stood, motioning calmly for his father, as though unwilling to panic the two hundred people crammed into the ballroom. Kitty did not release his hand, wondering what on earth…

The explosion rocked the building, sending Kitty sprawling on the floor. Her hand slipped form Warren’s as voices screamed and dust choked the air. Confused and dazed, she was unable to phase before her head struck the floor, making ears ring with the impact.

She tried to sit up, her vision swimming. People were running, some having fallen as she did.

“W-Warren?�

Blackness overwhelmed her, even through the fear gripping her heart.

Chapter Seven: Come Closer

Can I ever know if you feel the same
Are you the sunshine that's begging me
To come in from the rain
Or have you come into my life
To turn around and take your love away
~Brian McKnight


His ears rang unpleasantly in the aftermath, drowning out the screaming of the injured, the sound of debris crashing into the once-pristine floor. He was sprawled among the filth and scattered lilies, hands aching and lungs protesting the sudden addition of smoke and dust. A tablecloth had caught on his arm, but he could not gather enough of his wits to free himself from it.

Tired eyes swept over the immediate area, noting the slender raven-haired form of Patricia lying several yards away. She was still as death, her pale face covered in angry red cuts. Warren could scarcely recall what happened, but attempted to crawl toward Beast’s beloved reporter.

An image of gold cloth and a winsome smile halted him. Recalling the warmth of Kitty’s hand on his, how her fingers were so suddenly wrenched from his, he shook his head to clear it. Snatches of disjointed sound began to penetrate the bothersome ringing, even as he searched the still bodies and choking stone-dust for her familiar form.

What had happened? Where was Kitty? Oh, God. Kitty!

“KITTY!�

He screamed, inhaled a mouthful of dust and gagged upon it. Paying no heed to the blood dripping from his arm and mixing with the dust on the floor, he scrambled to his feet. Wings helped stabilize his off-center equilibrium, keeping him on his unsteady feet while searching for his friend.

“Kitty! Kitty, answer me, damn it!�

Warren tried to gain his bearings, unsure where they had sat through the overturned tables and broken human bodies. Some cried out for help, a hysterical woman wailed in the distance, even as sirens heralded the coming of aid. People were rushing about, trying to flee to safety or locate the loved ones separated by the blast.

“Warren?�

Turning on the balls of his feet, Warren breathed a sigh of relief to find Beast limping toward him. Two sets of blue eyes met, held, reassuring one another that they were indeed all right. Remembering the fallen reporter, Warren turned, twitching a weak hand in the direction of her body.

“She’s over there. I think…�

His words were lost as Beast bolted over the fallen debris, calling for the woman he loved. Concern for the elder couple was outweighed by his need to locate Kitty. Where was his father? Mother? Jesus, what the hell happened here?

He caught sight of a gold shoe lying limply beneath an overturned table. Warren, for the first time in his young life, felt his heart stutter to a stop. He rushed the precious feet toward that telltale shoe, his still-weak hands gripping the edge of the table that pinned her. When the heavy oak furniture refused to move, panic kicked to life in his heart.

“Kitty? Can you hear me, honey?� He grunted, fingers slicked in blood as splinters bit into flesh. He tried, desperately, to move the heavy oak, succeeding in only shifting it an inch.

“Someone help!� Warren cried over the impossible din. He fought with the table, terrified when his cries did not even garner him a sarcastic comment from the woman beneath.

“Warren!� His father appeared, as though by magic. “Son, what…?�

Unable to articulate a response immediately, Warren released the table, roping his father into a fast, hard embrace. They clung for precious seconds, relieved and afraid. He did not know where his mother was, but at least his father was safe.

“Kitty,� he choked out when they parted. “Kitty.�

The elder Worthington seemed to understand in an instant, for he grasped the table’s opposite end and with Warren’s help, heaved mightily. They lifted the heavy oak, tossing it away the instant Kitty’s prone form was clear of it.

Though his father bore signs of injury and fear, Warren had eyes only for the golden princess lying in the dust. Her eyes were closed, face impassive as though in sleep. He knelt at her side, taking one bruised hand in his and squeezing lightly.

“Kitten?� He whispered, touching her face with one bloodied hand. “Kitty, honey, wake up.�

He could feel the heavy, knowing gaze of his father boring into his face, but paid it no mind. Whatever was going on in his father’s head would be dealt with another time. He only wished for Kitty to open her eyes, to tell him she was all right.

“Someone…�

He cried out when her lips parted, at the beatific sound of her weary voice. Wrapping her into his arms, Warren held on, fearful she might drift away if he released her.

“Someone…ruined…my…dress.�

Hysterical with relief, Warren laughed into her disheveled hair. He kissed her forehead, pulling back to meet those tired, but sparkling eyes. She fisted one hand in his suit jacket, clinging as he had his father. Refusing to release her, he checked Kitty over for injuries, fears allayed when her wounds appeared minor.

The roar of a jet brought the odd trio closer, even as Warren allowed a smile to grace his lips.

“It’s ok, Dad,� he said quietly, looking to the shattered windows. “The Calvary’s here.�

~**~


The scene before him was one of madness.

Stone and brick fell from gaping holes, littering the crimson carpet on which the rich and powerful walked only scant hours ago. Glass fell in musical tinkling all along the street, drifting from massive windows destroyed in a heartbeat. Scents of fear, of blood, of anger wafted on the cool summer breeze, making Logan shake his head as though to clear them.

They landed the Blackbird directly on the street, not caring who saw it. Their secret was revealed after Alcatraz and nothing could have stopped the X-Men from a frantic search for their missing members. Wolverine exited the jet first, nodding to the ambulances and police cruisers already wailing down the streets.

“Fan out,� Storm ordered in her most commanding tone. “Get survivors out.�

“Find Kitten and War,� Logan added, knowing how much leadership cost her in this moment. She wanted to rush in and find her chicks, as any of them wanted, but her responsibility to the greater good meant she could not voice this.

Logan thought he’d give her a break and do it anyway.

They entered the decimated building in a flood, helping the injured already fleeing the wreckage as much as they could. Stairs were taken two or three at a time, even as doubts and worries fought their way into Logan’s heart. He didn’t want to see any more death, especially for ones so young as Kitty and Warren.

How horrible was Fate to allow two young people only hours of carefree fun before tearing the world down around their ears? Logan snarled low in his throat, frightening a young woman bleeding from the scalp as she hurried past. It wasn’t right, not by a long shot. No one deserved this, much less two good kids just trying to make a difference.

Inside the ballroom, the damage seemed more extensive. Half the room was buried in rubble, thick pillars already weakened by the blast and the frantic exodus of victims teetered precariously. If they fell, it would only cause more damage as the blocks of marble crashed into the scene. Logan immediately crouched, checking the condition of the nearby pillars.

“Tin Man!�

“Da?�

“Get some stones, support those pillars or the roof’ll come down.�

To his credit, the young man merely nodded, trotting off to obey orders. Logan watched him for a moment, then melted into the fray. Iceman and Storm were busily checking the injured, but he knew better than to trust himself to that.

Sniffing quickly, he located the tender scent of innocence and followed it. Rushing through the debris, through the dust, he searched for the missing X-Men. Stepping over the fallen, Wolverine barely heard the cries of pain, of panic. He knew only the desperation that he not lose another of his team. It wasn’t an option. Not for two so young.

Then, as though by some preordained cue, the crowd parted and he saw them. Warren, dirty and angelic as ever, clutched a weak Kitten in his arms. They were both talking, but Warren bore obvious injury. An elder man crouched with them, from his scent Logan pegged him as the father. They crowded together, looking after one another amid the madness, the fear. They looked, Wolverine thought with a pang of jealousy, like a family.

So absorbed in his daydream was he, that Logan scarcely noticed a panicking middle-aged man crash into him. Because he was poised on the balls of his feet and unprepared, he was knocked backward by the slight crash. His heavy skeleton propelled the startled Wolverine into a nearby pillar. Even before he hit, a flash of premonition played against closed eyelids.

Before anyone could move, the pillar snapped under his weight. So precarious was the placement that almost instantly, the roof buckled. Without the support, chandeliers and sconces broke free from their holdings, only moments before the roof came down in earnest.

“WOLVERINE!�

“LOGAN!�

The screams echoed, even as a heavy stone slammed into his adamantium skull. His ears rang with Ororo’s terrified call, the clap of thunder that followed it. He wanted to reach for her, even as the rain of glass and brick forced him flat onto the dirty floor. Logan looked up, just a heartbeat before he was buried completely.

He would never forget the fear reflected in Storm’s eyes just as he sank into oblivion.

~**~

She felt the world stop, spin, and then restart again at twice the previous speed. Ororo was moving through the destruction before she could order her body to do so. Her long-fought fears screamed to the surface, even as Iceman and Colossus appeared at her side. He was trapped in the dark, alone and suffocating. How could anyone survive such a thing?

Memories drifted in and out of her mind, recalling those terrible hours when she was trapped beneath the rubble in Cairo, watching her mother and father die. Was Logan to face the same fate? She could scarcely breathe through the renewed assault of dust and smoke. Fire. Something was on fire. Why did the heavens boom so mightily? Did her fear for Logan reflect so perfectly?

“Colossus!� She called for her protégé, not realizing he had already outdistanced her. Her Russian student fell on the debris covering Logan, his preternatural strength hauling the stone and metal from the body concealed beneath.

“Storm?�

She turned to the side, having stepped forward to pull what she could from Logan’s body. Warren held a weakened Kitty in his arms, concern written all over his pale face. She took their appearance in at a glance, noting the blood soaking Warren’s sleeve and the deep purple swelling on Kitty’s forehead.

“Stay back,� she ordered quickly, knowing they wanted to leap in and help in any way they could. “You’re both injured.�

“Wolvie,� Kitty whimpered, her head injury making the words slur. “Where’d Wolvie go?�

“They’ll find him, Kitten,� Warren soothed, setting her back on the floor.

Storm watched them for only a moment, fear bubbling in her heart like a living thing. She didn’t notice the tears running down her face as she heaved heavy stone hiding Logan from her eyes. Forced to relive the worst moments in her life, Ororo fought back the urge to give in to the fear. It lingered on the edge of her awareness, threatening to consume.

Thinking of her parents drifted away, bringing the fresher pain of loss. Scott. Jean. Charles. Logan could not join them, even if she had to fight the Goddess herself. He had to stay with her. She couldn’t face it all again, the grief, the pain. Not again. She never heard the anguished cry that left her lips, startling the boys helping to free their teammate. They would never tell her how that single sob that escaped her throat terrified them beyond anything they ever faced.

When the long minutes passed and she caught sight of a familiar, if bloodied hand, Ororo fell to her knees and grasped the strong fingers.

“Logan?�

He twitched slightly. She took his hand with both of hers, bringing it to her chest. She wanted him to grasp something. The warmth of her fingers, the low beat of her heart, anything that might make him remain. Her fears collided inside her, peering into the dark hole where Logan was pinned. Nothing could stop the tears she still didn’t know coursed down her caramel cheeks.

Piotr and Bobby managed to free him several minutes later, aided by several of the victims from the ballroom. They seemed to understand that a savior fell while trying to help them. That kind of humanity, that basic goodness, was something Ororo wished more could see. None knew the man trapped beneath, and though they were injured and fearful, they still moved to help this unknown warrior.

When she could reach him, Ororo touched Logan’s face. Dark eyes fluttered open, revealing pain and relief. Ororo shushed the Wolverine when he attempted to speak. She merely nodded to Piotr, whom gently lifted their friend from the rubble. Ororo kept his hand as long as distance allowed. When they finally separated, she let her hand fall, reality coming back into sharp focus.

As Piotr – flanked by battered Kitty and Warren – headed back to the Blackbird, Ororo turned to Iceman. The young mutant smiled tightly, then turned to begin helping the civilians. Storm drew herself up, squared her burdened shoulders, and followed.

Logan would pull through. She had to believe that.

~**~

News crews pounced on the ballroom explosion minutes after the X-Men left the scene. With the destruction so pronounced, it shocked young Kitty Pryde that they waited so long to begin interviewing witnesses. Poised reporters were screeching about mutant rights and the Friends of Humanity before Warren and Kitty left the school’s med-lab. They carefully tuned it out, not wanting to relive everything so soon.

Most of the children occupying the school had slipped into the land of peaceful dreams long before and would not know anything was amiss until breakfast. Then, it would be the talk of the school. Kitty and Warren were sure to be the center of attention for days to come. She did not want to recount every detail of her evening, save the wonderfully carefree hours when she was just a girl in a pretty dress out with a handsome young man.

They moved carefully toward the upper levels, keeping quiet and close together. Kitty wondered if they were still shaken, wondering if they let one another out of their sight that they might drift away. She didn’t need a shrink to tell her that the long-dormant fears of abandonment itched to overtake her again. Kitty fought hard to keep her insecurities from showing. Her many defenses carefully constructed an outward appearance of one not concerned with image, but comfortable with who and what she was.

No one was allowed to glimpse at the underlying fears that she kept so completely wrapped up in tomboyish style and sharp wit.

But hearing that fear in Warren’s voice, recalling how swiftly they were parted amid the fear and rubble shook something inside of her. She could only remember screaming for him in the silence of her mind while the world shifted around her. She wanted his calming presence, to know that he had escaped the blast in one piece. Where did this uncommon fear come from? Why had she so clung to him upon waking?

What was this handsome angel doing to her insides and why couldn’t she stop it?

They reached her bedroom door in that same thoughtful silence. Warren smiled, reaching up to tuck a wayward lock of chestnut from her face until it lay quietly behind her ear. Kitty felt her stomach melt and clench, unsure where that sudden desire came from. Was he always so incredibly handsome? Did his eyes always reflect that warmth, that adoration?

Could this all be a reaction to such a terrifying experience?

Before Kitty could order herself to behave, she shifted her body closer to his. Skin rippled and stretched, as though reaching out for his touch. What would those beautiful hands feel like on heat-slicked flesh? Would he be as attentive, as loving when bare before her as he was everywhere else? Would his frantic heartbeat fall into rhythm with hers, his breath warm on her lips?

Startled and aroused by the sudden turn her inward dialogue took, Kitty felt her chest heave with sudden rapid breathing. Every inch of her flesh sang for attention, even the places covered by her dirty gold gown. The image of Warren reaching up and tugging her hair free to run his hands in it momentarily startled her.

Usually fantasies consisted of candlelight and Piotr’s dark eyes, but tonight fevered passion and orbs of warm blue dominated her thoughts. It could be the near death experience making her heart race, or was it the sudden revelation of want that appeared in Warren’s eyes? Did he want her? Why had he said nothing? Oh, God. What was happening here?

“Goodnight, Kitty.�

He whispered her name – a plea, a prayer – and kissed her cheek as a brother might. But a sibling’s affection could never have set her flesh on fire like this. One touch, one look, and Kitty felt her common sense losing an internal war with desire. Oh, how she wanted to give in, to know how it felt to be touched and adored as ruddy dawn stained the sky.

“Goodnight, Warren.�

The automatic reply brought a small smile to that angelic face. When he turned to walk away, Kitty forced herself to open the bedroom door, to slip inside the private sanctuary where only hours before she’d readied for her night out. Marie had obviously picked up the discarded clothing for her, leaving the room in its characteristic tidiness.

But the space, usually welcoming and soothing, seemed huge and empty without Warren’s presence. Kitty yearned to turn back to the open door, to call out his name. She left it open slightly without knowing why while taking the slender Jimmy Choos from her aching feet.

The bandage on her head was forgotten as body overrode mind. Not since a somewhat juvenile romp in her mid-teens had Kitty allowed a man into her bed. Insecurity and the unrequited ache for Piotr seemed to curb any nocturnal playtime, leaving her alone to thoughts and books. But tonight she didn’t want to be alone. If her eyes closed, she heard the screaming, felt the fear.

Warren could chase it away, if only for a little while.

As she turned back to the door, he stepped over the threshold. Neither spoke and Kitty remained rooted to the spot as he took two long strides to mesh bodies together. One masculine hand came up to cup her nape, knocking the already loose pins from her hair. Warren’s mouth was on hers a heartbeat later, his warm lips at once pliable and demanding.

Thought fled and Kitty’s arms wound desperately around his neck. Their bodies melded together, one cohesive whole were seconds before had been two independent pieces. Warren groaned, both hands thrust into her hair while he ravished her mouth as though starving. Kitty felt herself give, melt, and take fateful steps backward toward the bed.

When her knees struck the mattress, she tugged, pulled and fell back onto the soft cotton duvet with Warren sprawled atop her.

He pulled back, those familiar, burning blue eyes searching her face in wonderment. If she stopped to think, to breathe, she would bolt. For some reason, that thought terrified her, so she leaned back up, capturing his lips in a kiss that seared her to the soul.

Warren gathered her into his arms, one hand reaching for the zip of her dress. They fell on one another with the fervor of lovers, tearing at dust-covered clothing as though their lives depended on it. All thought and sound boiled down to lusty moans and gasps of sensual excitement. Her dress came away, falling to the floor in a flutter of gold cloth, joined seconds later by the deep blue of his jacket.

Long-fingered hands drifted over her exposed flesh as Warren’s palms traced a path from her throat, over the swells of her breasts and across the ripple of her ribcage until he stroked the silk of her belly. Unable to remain idle, Kitty slipped the buttons of his shirt from their holes, her fingers mapping every line of muscle in his chest.

Lips met, fused, and broke only to meet again as two aching bodies met in the quiet of early dawn. The rustle of clothing was soon replaced by the soft slap of flesh against flesh. Kitty never knew that she could burn in this way, that her body could be so drawn and taut that she feared she might snap in half. Wasn’t this the sort of thing only found in Nora Roberts’ novels? Oh, God, why did his hands know exactly which places to touch, to tease?

She whispered his name as he dipped his head, capturing one rosy peak with the warmth of his mouth. Undone by pleasure, Kitty arched her back, pleading for more until words were caught in her throat on a desperate sob.

They never heard the bedroom door closed, so lost in one another that the outside world simply faded away. When Warren took her, it was with infinite tenderness and a passion that left her gasping for breath.

Tomorrow, Kitty vowed rising again to take him deeper, tomorrow they would talk. Tonight she gave up to passion and hoped for the best.

Chapter Eight: Strange Bedfellows

Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate sight
~Alanis Morissette


Before dawn, while the world rolled sleepily to avoid truly waking, Ororo slipped out of her bedroom. She checked on Jimmy and Artie, whom had the terrible habit of staying up too late to chat in the darkness. Storm enjoyed watching the boys’ relationship blossom. Part of her knew it was the similarity that warmed her so. The friendship grew much as hers had with Henry so long ago.

Storm had canceled her trip to Washington in light of the anti-mutant terrorist attack, telling the council that she needed to be with her charges. To her delight, they understood completely, rescheduling at her convenience. Ororo thanked her lucky stars that Charles’ good name offered some leeway, even from the grave.

Dreams kept her from the peaceful realm of sleep. She’d been standing on a dark corner, looking into the inky blackness of midnight. The dark closed in, leaving her alone to the fear and pain. To her surprise, the name she called into the terrible shadows was not that of her long dead friends, but for the impetuous Wolverine.

“Logan?� She cried into that dream world, fear in full force. “Logan? Where are you?�

Something made her run, though she could not remember what sent her to tear through the darkness. She kept calling for him, wanting some hand to reach out, to pluck her from the fear and pitch-black. In echoes of night, she heard the ceiling of that decimated ballroom fall around her, the debris nearly collapsing on her weakened body.

When she woke, it was with sweat-slicked skin and gasping breath. She needed to check on him, to ensure that he had not left her alone as the others. It was a ridiculous impulse, one neither of them would appreciate. He might embarrass her, but Ororo had to be certain that her sole companion upon these grounds had not slipped away in the night.

As she took the stairs one floor down to Logan’s room, Ororo conceded that might have been her problem all along. She always feared that one morning she might wake to find Logan slipped away from the mansion on Scott’s old motorcycle. If he left her as well, she did not believe her sanity would survive. Though she and Logan kept their distance, he reminded her every day of why Charles insisted they keep on fighting.

She watched, with some kind of wonder, as Wolverine became less the loner and more an integral part of the X-Men. The children depended on him, not only for education and instinctual wisdom, but protection. How many times had she heard the children recount stories of how Wolverine defended their home and, perhaps, saved their lives?

Storm tried to shake this from her head as she placed her hand on the doorknob to Logan’s bedroom. Two deep breaths did nothing to steady her rapid heartbeat, so she moved to turn it without another delay.

“Come on in, ‘Ro.�

Ororo startled so badly, she had to flatten her palm against the cool wood to keep from banging her body into it. She chuckled soundlessly, though she managed to open the door without stumbling or further making an ass out of herself. Smoothing her hair down with one hand, she poked her head into the room, smiling slightly.

Logan stood at his window, as she’d seen him do a million times. His chest happened to be bare, the clasp of his blue jeans undone, though he thankfully zipped them. To her surprise, there was no cigar pinched between his teeth. He braced one forearm above his head on the edging of the window, staring into the pink stain of dawn. His hair, Ororo noticed with some concern, seemed flat, much like a wounded wolf’s ears.

He said nothing when she stepped fully inside and closed the bedroom door behind her. In the dim light of morning, Ororo found faint traces of bruising and healing lacerations on his back and arms. Though his flesh was pale, the thick covering of dark hair seemed to blend him into the shadows. Light cast his profile in sharp relief, so Ororo could clearly see the contemplation on his wise features.

“You ok?�

At his question, she nodded. “Yes.�

A long, deliberating pause followed, broken only by the faint song of birds outside of his open window.

“Had a bad dream.�

It took Storm a moment to realize he had not questioned her, but spoke of himself in a simple, to the point statement. She took another step toward him, keeping several feet of empty air between them. He never took his eyes from the view beyond the thin screening.

“It was you under that ceiling. But I wasn’t fast enough to pull you out.�

Startled by the revelation, Ororo wondered if she had not yet woken and, in fact, lay on her bed still wrapped in strange dreams.

“You were afraid,� he continued quietly. “You were actually afraid for me.�

“Of course I was,� she whispered in reply. “The damn ceiling collapsed.�

His jaw tightened, but for some reason, Ororo knew it was not with his characteristic anger.

“You were actually afraid for me,� he continued as though still stunned by that knowledge. “I can’t remember anyone bein’ that scared I might die.�

Without knowing where the impulse came from, she closed the distance between them. Standing behind Wolverine, she could smell the spicy fragrance of his soap from a recent shower. Her hand reached without her permission, touching his bare shoulder. He flinched under the simple, comforting touch, the ripple of muscle an instinctual reaction rather than revulsion.

His head dropped forward, the stance changing for the first time since she entered his bedroom.

“I don’t ever wanna see that fear in your eyes again.�

Ororo smiled slightly, amused by his command. “Well, then. Don’t let ceilings collapse on you again.�

To her eternal surprise – and pleasure – she caught the faint hint of a smile on Logan’s lips before he shifted and turned. They faced one another in the dim light, shadows playing over them as the sun chased away the night. His handsome face had healed completely, most of those wounds superficial.

Her eyes traced the fading lines of his injuries, traveling down the length of his neck to that broad chest. There were angry bruises there, where the falling stone slammed Kevlar-based armor into his flesh. Impact bruises took some time to heal, even for a man bordering on immortality.

She touched one long gash over a pectoral, wondering how deeply that actually went. Logan flinched, reaching up to grasp her hand as though in pain. Ororo felt fear lick at her heart and both hands shot out to steady him.

“Are you all right? Should I get a med-kit? What’s wrong? Is it not healing?�

Her rapid-fire questions were slightly hysterical, the same panic kicking to life inside her chest as visions of that deadly collapse rushed back through her mind. Logan took her hands, forcing her to look up at his face.

He smiled at her, slightly amused, slightly grateful. “Come on, darlin’. I’m the motherfuckin’ Wolverine. It’s healed. Just a mite tender is all.�

Ororo gifted him with another smile, noticing how his thumb rubbed circles over her knuckles in a comforting way. Two sets of dark eyes caught and held in the lightening room, each guarded and open in their own odd ways. Ororo thought she might actually be seeing Logan for the first time since his arrival some time ago.

There was something so wise in those dark amber eyes, she decided. An ancient wisdom coupled with an innocence that served as balance. His hands were deceptively smooth, the pad of his thumb tracing the ripple of her knuckles absently. Unable to help herself, Ororo lifted her free hand to run her own over the stubble on his cheek.

Without realizing what they were doing, lost in the memory of that dream and the dawn light slipping in around them, Ororo drifted closer. He matched her for each motion, leaning down until their lips brushed softly. Logan’s eyes were still on hers, even when both of his hands came up to frame her face.

Oh, she felt tiny and protected when he looked at her that way. She had no conception of what in hell she was doing, but thought seemed slightly beyond her reach at this point. When Logan leaned further forward, like some Austen hero, her eyes drifted closed. Logan’s mouth took hers, but in a way she could never imagine him being.

Tender, she thought before she lost the ability. His lips were soft on hers, requesting response rather than demanding it. She felt her arms wrap around his neck, his own circling her waist. Goddess, he was so strong, so male. She lost herself in the romance and dream-like quality of the moment. When his tongue asked politely for entrance, she parted her lips obediently. He never seemed impatient by the slow, coy movement of their mouths. His hand drifted up from her waist to bury in the longer locks of her hair.

Ororo might have swooned like a nineteenth-century heroine, for her knees buckled under the sudden rush of blood and heady pleasure throughout her body. Logan caught her easily, gently pulled her against his chest for balance.

He lifted his mouth from hers gently, and though she felt his gaze on her, Ororo kept her eyes closed. The urge to whisper his name came without warning.

“Scott.�

For a moment, the sudden tension in his body made no sense. Ororo opened her eyes, somewhat dazedly smiling. But the cold, bitter edge to Logan’s deep amber startled her with the efficiency of a bucket of ice water. His hands slipped to her biceps, squeezing somewhat harder than could be called strictly necessary.

“Logan.� She did not know what to say, what could assuage the pain of what she’d just done. He saved her from trying with a chill to his eyes, his voice that no weather goddess could hope to recreate in nature.

“You need to leave.�

He released her roughly, turning back to the window. As he took up his former, statue-like position, Ororo rushed from the bedroom. She slammed the heavy door behind her, letting her back lean on it for support.

Her breast heaved with rapid breathing, the knowledge that she’d just hurt Logan weighing in on an already battered heart. She had not even thought of Scott during that impulsive – and wonderful – kiss. What happened? Goddess, what the hell was she doing kissing Logan in the first place?

It might not have been planned, but speaking another’s name was wrong no matter what the reasons were.

She heard a low bang from downstairs and pushed off from the door. With her head craned to the side, she listened for footsteps. A familiar step, klunk told the Headmistress who had just entered the house a beat before his voice traveled upstairs.

“Storm? Enamorado?�

“Coming, Forge!� She called to sooth the fear in his voice.

Thoughts of Wolverine would just have to wait.

~**~


He stayed up half the night, just looking at her. When dawn erupted through her eastern-facing window, he could watch the play of light on those beautiful features. That long, sculpted nose tipped up at the end. He’d never noticed that before. Her cheeks were rosy with sleep; that supple mouth parted slightly with the deep, soothing breath of slumber.

She lay, blissfully nude, beside him where she’d drifted off in the early morning. Her hair, which came unpinned at some point, spilled on the pillow with the luster of a sable coat. One hand rested near her cheek, the other splayed over his chest.

Warren rarely slept on his side, but he’d been too grateful to hold her in his arms. His broken wing ached with the pull of gravity over the side of the bed, but the warmth emanating from her body kept him locked in place, unwilling to move for fear of breaking this magnificent spell.

Kitty sighed contently in her sleep, rolling slightly as sleep released its beautiful hold on her. Unable to resist, Warren traced a finger over her cheek, leaning forward to kiss the bandage on her forehead. The fear still gripped him, wondering those awful moments if she’d been taken from him so violently. The dreams, he knew, would be with him forever.

“Mmm.�

At the sound of her comfortable hum he smiled softly. Those breathtaking eyes batted open a moment later, her smile at seeing him immediate and telling. She shifted beneath the soft lavender of her duvet. One hand reached up, running her forefinger over his lips. Undone by the simplicity of that touch, Warren’s eyes drifted shut. He shuddered with pleasure, wings twitching so that the rustle of feathers filled the previously silent room.

“Morning.�

Her voice, still husky with sleep, widened his smile. His eyes opened and he leaned in to kiss her. “Good morning.�

“Wow,� she rolled onto her back, stretching like a cat. “I haven’t sleep that hard in a long time.�

“Someone wore you out,� Warren quipped. Kitty swatted at him familiarly.

“That’s an understatement.� She winked at him, turning to glance at the clock. She groaned. “Damn, roll the clock back, War.�

He chuckled; rolling on top of her so that the sheet caught between them and his wings obscured the light. The sun filtered through the snowy hue of his feathers, casting Kitty’s face into pure luminescence. She reached up to touch those wings, her eyes shining with adoration.

“You’re so beautiful,� they whispered in unison before blushing at once.

Though he wanted to know what the last night meant to her, he could not bring himself to ask. If she started to think, remembered what Peter meant to her, Warren didn’t know if he could withstand the rejection. For right now, in this moment, he wanted her to be his. When the world came crashing down around them, at least he could have this single memory to take with him when his heart lay broken at her feet.

When it happened, he wasn’t sure. Warren knew, without a doubt, that he was in love with his best friend. He risked everything by giving in to the desire and hope in her eyes last night. She had the power to break him in ways his parents could never dream. If Kitty asked for the heart from his chest, he might cheerfully oblige. But he knew that her heart might still belong to their Russian teammate.

Part of him, that tiny piece of his soul that refused to be silenced, hoped that she saw him now as clearly as he saw her. The cynical side nurtured by years of pain demanded he simply close himself off and accept the inevitable.

“We have to get up,� Kitty pouted, taking him from internal monologue.

“Unfortunately,� he agreed. “Storm wants our reports on last night’s events.�

“What events?� Kitty blinked with a rather unconvincing impression of vapid ignorance. “I remember a red carpet, camera flashes, a pretty ballroom, and a dashing Prince Charming.�

“Ah,� Warren teased. “Cinderella didn’t turn back into a pumpkin?�

“Nope,� she leaned up, kissing him seriously. “Cinderella got her fairytale evening.�

He gave her an exaggerated look of suspicion. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought.�

Before Kitty could retaliate, someone pounded on her bedroom door. The young couple startled, Warren’s wing arching up painfully until they could see the solid oak door. There were shadowed feet beneath the wood, outlined by the hallway light.

“Yo! Kit-Kat!� Bobby hollered from the hall. “We got a briefing in ten and training right after. Hurry it up, sleepyhead!�

Kitty cleared her throat and feigned just waking. “Be right out, Bobby!�

“Kay.� A pause. “Hey, you seen War? He’s not in his room.�

Kitty giggled soundlessly, even when Warren shot her a warning look. “Think he went flying. Always clears his head.�

“Huh.� Bobby sounded unconvinced. “Maybe. I’ll see you downstairs.�

They waited until footsteps retreated before breaking into soft laughter. Kitty pouted prettily, wiggling beneath Warren’s light body until she could coil herself around him. Warren felt his heart double beat and prayed that this wouldn’t end as badly as he thought it would. Kitty peppered kisses on his neck and chest, her body waking his with open invitation for naughtiness.

“They’ll, ah, be looking for u-us.� Warren attempted to speak, even as blood lit fire in his veins.

“Not for a few minutes,� she whispered against his ear before nipping at the lobe. “We have time for a shower.�

He knew he should resist, get on with the inevitable “I want us to be friends� thing. But the greedy side of him wanted more, especially if all this would end the moment they walked out of her bedroom.

In the end, greed won.

“I’ll wash your back for you.�

Kitty grinned. “Oh, good. I was hoping you’d say that.�

~**~


They assembled in the War Room like knights at Arthur’s Court. Everything had that same Camelot feel, from the rounded metallic table to the somber, familial air of people bound together by loyalty and hardship. Storm sat at one end, leader though there could be no “head� of the table.

Surrounding her, the loyal knights that would charge into hell armed with naught more than courage at her command. Because she was a evenhanded ruler, they never had to. She would always fight at their sides, come what may. Warriors, he thought, warriors willfully submitting to the queen who won her stripes on a battlefield.

Forge always found a kind of regality to Ororo’s small court. In each youthful face, there was wisdom that time and trial impressed upon them. Whereas during Charles’ reign, they were children of innocence, still somehow sure there was goodness in every human heart to walk the planet. It was, Forge thought simply, the only true gift Charles could give them.

He held back his own pain at losing the man who helped so many. In Ororo, Forge knew, the legacy would continue. In Arthur’s time, only a son could retake the throne in his father’s name. Forge smiled slightly, believing that Charles might have forsaken young Scott Summers for this African princess. She commanded by love and fought with savagery that no man could ever hope to duplicate.

Though he wanted in no way to tarnish the memory of a man he once called friend, Forge truly believed that Storm was Charles’ rightful heir. She was unlike any other woman, a warrior princess set to take her people’s freedom by the tip of a sword. It came as no surprise that he adored and respected that woman so much.

If only he could love her as she deserved, become the king to her lovely queen. Alas, it was not to be, even at the height of war.

He scolded himself for allowing his thinking to slip so far into fantasy. No matter what he perceived, Ororo was a mutant schoolteacher, fighting tooth and nail to protect her charges. Her little kingdom left by a man taken too soon.

His analysis of Arthur’s Court seemed so true. All around the heavy steel table sat the X-Men, waiting to report and for decisions to come from the wintry crown. Shadowcat and Angel entered together, leaning toward one another as though in secretive counsel. Colossus and Psylocke came next, taking their places while locked in heated debate, which had nothing to do with this briefing.

Iceman and Rogue – the latter still included as a kindred – settled quietly at the table, leaving the whispers to the others. And finally, seeming to stroll in as carefree as a wild coyote, Wolverine took his place beside the unchallenged queen.

At once, Forge knew something changed between them. While the two often argued, they were normally quite cordial to one another, at least from what the others said. Today there was no typical ignoring, but a steady heat between them. Forge watched discreetly from his place at Storm’s right, to where Wolverine settled on her left. No glances slid toward one another, distance separating their bodies cold as a lifeless tundra.

Deciding he would get to the bottom of this, Forge turned his attention back to the meeting. Whatever passed between the Wolverine and Storm might boil over and scald the unprotected team. He remembered, quite suddenly, that internal strife destroyed the dazzling Camelot so swiftly.

“All right, settle down,� Ororo ordered with the commanding presence of a queen. “Warren? Why don’t you tell us what happened?�

At once, the young blonde, fairer than the creature that bore his codename, began the long explanation. His voice did not waver nor break as he recalled the events of the previous night. Forge’s sharp eyes caught the tiny, pale hand that grasped the young man’s under the table. He looked to Storm, whom met his eyes quickly, a confirmation that she noticed the change in her team as well.

For a reason not immediately apparent to Forge, her ebony gaze flickered to the stoic Colossus. The tall Russian gave his full attention to Angel, his face unguarded and friendly. Forge knew immediately that something in the shape of a triangle had been formed some time in the last several hours.

He thanked the gods that children were Storm’s responsibility and not his own.

When Angel finished his briefing, Storm turned to Forge.

“Forge?�

He nodded, cleared his throat, and felt a hot, angry gaze on his back. Ignoring Wolverine’s temper, Forge stood. Expertly tapping the keys on his command panel, he brought up security footage taken from the benefit.

“As you may already know, Warren Worthington had some concerns about security for the events last night. He contacted my office and asked that I keep an eye on things without disturbing the peace.�

“He didn’t want to alert those watching that he was concerned?� Angel offered, obviously knowing his father’s mind quite well.

“Yes,� Forge nodded to the younger man. “I was to keep my eyes and ears open, but not interfere. To be honest, I never expected an open attack on civilians.�

“Could there have been a specific target?� Storm questioned quickly.

“Actually, I believe there was.�

He hit another button, allowing the paused digital film to play. “This was taken in the Silent Auction room just before the explosion.�

The room was, thankfully, near empty. A few guests milled around inside, enjoying the extravagance of the evening. Forge and the X-Men watched in silence as a dark-haired woman entered the room. She wore a dress of bright cerulean, a sensual sway to her hips. Storm sat up, back straight as a board. Wolverine pulled the cigar from his mouth, staring openly.

“Mystique.�

Forge nodded to Wolverine. “Yes, we followed her the moment she appeared on our radar.�

Mystique moved easily into the room, glancing at the young couple wandering through the auction. She waited patiently as they circled the room, until their backs were facing her. She reached into her slender pocketbook, turned toward the door and pointed her hand toward the lavish ballroom.

“Hey!� The other woman shouted, whirling about as he hands charged with something like kinetic energy.

Mystique flinched, the object in her hand dropped immediately. She took her earring with a free hand, attached it to the pocketbook and let it fall. The explosion knocked the camera into snowy static and Forge stopped the tape.

“What was that?� Angel demanded with uncommon heat. “Who was she aiming that thing at?�

Forge tried to speak, but Angel continued his demands for answers until Ororo raised a delicate hand for silence.

Amused by the power she had over them – without either party truly aware of it – Forge took a deep breath, bracing himself to reveal bad news.

“Following the line of fire with our laser scopes on the scene, we determined that she was aiming at your table, Mr. Worthington.�

Kitty swallowed audibly, bringing Angel back into his chair while the others stared at him in shock.

“Me?�

Forge shook his head. “The doctors found two small projectiles inside Patricia Tilby’s abdomen. One seemed perfectly on point, but the other too high to cause any damage. When Ms. Darkholme startled, she missed her second shot.�

“The baby,� Storm whispered. “Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought about Trish’s baby. Are they all right?�

Forge nodded slowly. “For now, mother and child are just fine.� His eyebrow arched. “You knew?�

She had the grace to blush prettily, glancing around her knighted table to explain. “Henry told me two weeks ago. I was sworn to secrecy.�

“No wonder Dr. McCoy ran off like that,� Angel said miserably. “I didn’t even think about Ms. Tilby again.�

“Neither did I,� Kitty whispered, looking ashamed. “They’re all right, though?�

Touched by the swell of familial concern, Forge offered the worried X-Men a slight, tender smile. “Yes. Mystique’s projectiles missed the amniotic sac, but they want to keep her for several days to ensure the required surgeries did not harm the fetus.�

Wolverine stood immediately. “I’m goin’.�

Storm did not rise to stop him, but nodded once. “Send our best wishes to Henry and Patricia.�

Wolverine gave her a curt nod of his head, then swept from the room in a trail of cigar smoke. The others shifted uncomfortably, each struggling with his or her demons. Forge decided to continue the briefing without Wolverine, knowing someone would take the time to fill him in.

“We are not sure who Mystique is working for or why Tilby was targeted out of a veritable feast of marks.�

“Could she be working alone?� Colossus asked quietly.

“From what we know of her?� Psylocke left the insinuation hanging.

Forge agreed with her. “This was no accident. For now, we’re working with the FBI and the Federal Mutant Watch Group to find and detain her.�

“But she’s powerless,� Rogue interjected. “What’s she getting out of this?�

“Money.� Kitty offered.

But Storm shook her head. “Mystique is a fanatic, money is the least of her concerns.�

Angel glanced around the room. “There were rumors. My father never told me, but there are whispers that he developed an anti-cure.�

Storm stared at him in shock. “A way to undo the Cure?�

His blonde head nodded slowly. “My father may have wanted to offer mutants who took the Cure a way to reactivate their X gene.�

“Why?� Rogue demanded hotly. “Why would he do that?�

“To give back what someone took without permission.� Colossus decided. “For someone like Mystique.�

Forge felt foreboding slip through his veins like ice water. He met Storm’s gaze, marking the fear he found there, swirling just beneath the surface.

“This won’t end well,� she said quietly. “If she has the slightest chance at getting her powers back, Mystique will stop at nothing.�

Forge took his seat once more, absorbing this new information as quickly as he could. The X-Men might need help with this new enemy, one willing to destroy a ballroom filled with innocent people to serve her own agenda.

“I have to go to Washington,� he decided quickly, taking Ororo’s hand. “I may be able to find answers there.�

She nodded and called the meeting adjourned. When the children left the room, she turned to him, that infamous icy shield falling down to her feet.

“Forge…�

He took her into his arms, rubbing her back soothingly. “We’ll get answers. I promise.�

They remained that way for several moments; letting the fear take them and each wishing for the mentor they had relied on for so long.