It had been so long since Logan had seen a blue sky. The clouds were grey from the lingering smoke of bombs and the sky took on a maroon hue, as if the blood spilt in this meaningless war painted a mural over the world. Turning his head slightly, he looked upon his weary companions. Ororo, Cassidy, LeBeau, and himself were heading towards a field hospital to the east where Doctors Grey and Summers were treating wounded mutant stragglers from battle. A week ago Dr. Grey had contacted Ororo asking for help to tend to the onslaught of patients.

“It’s more than they can handle,” Ororo had said, “We need to go and help them.”

“So while the real war is happening out there,” Logan had stated, motioning toward gunfire heard in the distance, “We’re going to go help pass out band-aids , give a few enimas, and buy some time while the real fighters put their lives on the line.” As could be determined by his sarcasm and heightened brow, Logan had every possible objection to taking the mission to the hospital. It would be at least six days off the war zone and so much could be lost in that time.

“If it weren’t for that hospital, Logan, we would have even fewer numbers than we do now,” finalized General Sean Cassidy. For the most part, Logan was silenced.

You can’t argue with obvious fuckin logic.

Tonight the quartet had pitched a camp in a vast field hidden by a monstrous wall of trees. The forest was so thick it seemed like an impenetrable barricade. Above the trees an orange glow blared across the tree tops, leaving Logan with an overwhelming feeling of guilt and uselessness. Another explosion boomed miles away.

Since when do I walk away from all the fun?

It felt wrong to be only hearing the echoes of the battle and not planting himself in the middle of it. He knew he was necessary more among those trapped in the fire rather than watching the flames crackle a hundred miles away. Mutants were now having to use their powers to defend themselves against the human race’s purge of their existence. They claimed that mutants were dangerous, but tell someone that they’re going to war and anyone becomes dangerous. Logan fought for the mutants’ right to existence, especially his own. Humans fueled the mutants’ hatred with their own and now was the time to prove who had the overall power.

For a moment, Logan’s mind drifted back to when the war within himself had started; cradling the body of his bloody, broken love, with an animalistic roar erupting from his lungs. Swearing vengeance against Victor for taking away his only token of peace. Since, only one name had spun around in his mind like the drone of a broken record: Stryker. Logan had been equipped as a weapon and from that day shook the earth like a tank. William Stryker had made Logan was of the most dangerous men on earth. He was the best at what he did, but what he did wasn’t very nice.

Logan could not remember a time when his mind was not set on breaking down an obstruction in front of him, but, once in great deal of time, he stopped and remembered that softness he had once felt, that peace of mind that only came with remembering a time before he was Wolverine.

“I’m so tired,” Logan whispered. For the first time, his ageless body felt at its breaking point.

“We’re all tired, Logan,” came Ororo’s voice.

Logan turned as she came to stand beside him. She had hair the color he remembered the moon to be and eyes blue like a boundless ocean.

“How long do they seriously think this is going to go on? They can get rid of us today but there’ll be a thousand more born tomorrow,” Logan said matter-of-factly. To him, this was a fight for an outcome that no one really believed was real but they still hoped for something just as good.

“They’ll keep going as long as we do,” answered LeBeau’s voice from the open flap in his tent.

“He’s right. To them the world is better off half destroyed to bring about our destruction rather than co-existing with us,” said Ororo, staring straight ahead as Logan had been. In the distance they could hear more explosions.

Logan took a cigar from his front jacket pocket and put it between his lips. “Well I don’t know about you guys,” he said with the cigar between his teeth, “but I’m not planning on doing this forever.”

“So how long will you last,” asked Ororo, turning to look at him?

Logan struck a match and took the cigar out of his mouth to speak. He looked at her for a long moment and noticed that her eyes had taken on an intensity he had never seen. They were glossy and bright, not with tears but with a challenging curiosity that often became her.

“Last time I checked I didn’t have an expiration date,” he answered, putting the cigar back into his mouth and stroked the end with the lit match.

“Oh good. Then you won’t be leaving us anytime soon,” said Ororo snottily as she walked back toward he tent.

“If you keep that nice attitude of yours up I’ll make it a guarantee,” Logan said after her.

He sneered and took a long drag on his cigar. The smoke swiveled up in the air and disappeared as the clouds overhead turned grey and silver sparks of light blared in the sky and then…

BOOM!

Logan was drenched in an instant and, cigar still between his lips, he looked up at the sky and saw that the foreboding crimson in the sky had vanished and was replaced by a swarm of black clouds. Tossing the cigar irritably aside, Logan turned and walked toward his own tent, making a point to pass Ororo’s on his way.

“Was that really necessary,” he mumbled towards the opening in her tent?

Logan lay awake that night, watching the shadows of the raindrops settling and plummeting down the sides of his tent. The storm had continued on into the evening and late into the night. There was no measure of time anymore, only the difference between night and day. For a while it was impossible to tell if the explosions in the sky were thunder or gunfire in the distance. The tepid pitter patter of the raindrops drowned out all sound of the world outside his tent.

Logan lay awake for what felt like hours, anxious to get up and move. By mid day they would have reached the hospital and he would be content to be given a new assignment. He had been in General Cassidy’s infantry long enough and he had been slightly thrilled to hear that they would be joining General Magneto’s battalion when they arrived. Magneto was a metal bending giant who was the greatest mutant defense against the human attacks. Logan pictured himself following this battleground legend amidst gunfire, flying debris, and human cavalry jets overhead. It was exhilarating.

His concentration was broken when he heard a stirring outside his tent. He heard a zipper and then the swish swish of feet struggling through the thicket of overgrown grass. One of his companions had left their tent. Shifting so that he faced the triangular doorway of his tent, he peered out of the thin, zippered opening and saw Ororo standing about five yards away, staring up at the sky. He was suddenly aware that the rain had stopped.

Logan’s mind seemed fixated on the stunning creature in the tall grass. He had been struck by her beauty since she had become a captain in General Cassidy’s infantry two years ago. She had thrice the beauty of this revered goddess she often swore to and, watching her standing under the spotlight of the gleaming, she was truly that angel with moonbeam hair and ocean water eyes. Her olive toned skin was like the soft sand on a beach where the waves caressed the shore. She was a strong woman, in fit and in mind. She was dangerous if challenged but took her position with the uttermost seriousness because she felt true compassion toward all the lives under her command.

He often thought she did not much care for him and often referred to what he would call logic to be pigheadedness. He would never dwell on her opinion of him but in times of weakness he found himself keenly agreeing with her. She often had a stern, powerful default expression on her face but there were countable times when she would grace those about her with a smile. Logan found it truly stunning.

Ororo seemed in a thoughtful trance of her own as she stared at the skyline above the trees. The forest was quiet. With a heavy sigh, she turned on her boot heel and traipsed back to her tent. As she passed, Logan caught a whisper of her perfume, lilac and vanilla. He would always think of her with that familiar scent.

He heard her zip up the flap opening and it was all quiet again. Staring toward the ceiling of his tent again, lost in thought, Logan heard a faint weeping coming from the tent close by and he saw that it had started to rain.

The following morning…

By the time they had set out for the hospital the next morning, all signs of the night’s storms had vanished and all that remained was the trickle of dew from the leaves overhead. They traveled, for the most part, in silence. LeBeau and Cassidy chatted in whispers while Ororo and Logan walked a few yards ahead. They didn’t say a word. Once, Ororo saw Logan peer over at her but then focused straight ahead on their walking path. In the end it was he who broke the icy wall.

“Anything wrong,” he asked? Ororo turned to him with an expressionless face.

“Why do you ask?”

Logan gestured upward with a pointed finger at the blackening clouds.

Ororo knew not to follow his gaze. She knew her foul mood was taking its tole on the fresh morning sky. She chose an aimless answer that would hopefully close all roads to conversation. She did not feel like talking, particularly with an antagonize like Logan.

“Just anxious to get to the hospital to help the doctors,” answered Ororo.

To her dismay, Logan pressed on.

“You seem tired.”

Ororo said nothing.

Logan turned to look at her and she was staring straight ahead, occasionally peering down at her feet to avoid tripping on the jagged rocks hidden in the dirt. He recognized the signs that she did not want to talk. They were often emitted from him towards most people he met. He knew that expression as if it were on his own face but, despite his rashness, he felt genuine concern. He spoke again.

“I heard you leave your tent last night,” Logan dared.

This time, Logan had her full attention.

“So,” she countered?

“Nothing, you just seem upset,” he said defensively, wondering where he had expected this to go in the first place.

“We’re in the middle of a war, Logan. No one is exactly stable right now.”

Logan had lost pace with her as she quickened her pack as they ducked under some low branches from some tangled trees.

“Yeah but there’s a difference between being stressed and temperamental,” said Logan and this had really pushed a nerve.

Ororo riled on Logan and broke her pace ahead of him to stare him down lest he dare say anything else.

“You’re one to talk about temperamental,” Ororo hissed.

Her glare didn’t faze Logan in the slightest. He returned with defensive bitterness.

“Yeah well you’re the one who has to be in charge right? So that means I have to count on you to keep my ass alive so wake up!”

If Ororo’s eyes were an ocean there would be a hurricane blazing inside her. The irritable fury in her words punctured the air as she spoke.

“Well no one would ever be so foolish as to trust you with their life.”