Summary: Sequel to Goddess. Ororo returns to the mansion and finds that Logan isn't so elated to see her. In fact, his feelings for her are in no way what they once were. She loves him and tries to win back his affection, but he resists. Can two people with as many wounds as they have reuinte? Can they fall in love again? If so, what would it take?
Categories: General Characters: None
Genres: Romance, Angst
Warnings: Violence, Adult language, Sexual Situations
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 7
Completed: Yes
Word count: 8792
Read: 18382
Published: 11-30-04
Updated: 06-09-06
1. Again by Satine16
2. Flesh by Satine16
3. Moment by Satine16
4. Baited by Satine16
5. Plunge by Satine16
6. Departure by Satine16
7. Hunter by Satine16
Title: Hunter
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to Marvel, not me! I am not doing this for any money, so please don’t sue me!
Chapter 1: Again
It had been two years. Two years was a very long time. The mansion still looked the same. The gardens were still the same. Everything was still the same. She hoped. Her tan, high-heeled boots crunched as she made her way up the gravel drive. The yellow taxi-cab had just pulled away. Her silver white locks were tied up in a neat bun, and they rested smoothly on the back of her neck. Designer names had never meant much to her: her simple slacks and sweater fitted her mellow composure. She wore no make-up and her complexion was glowing in the new morning sun. Her suitcase was small. There was only one left. Wary, she carried at her side as she lifted the knocker on the large mahogany door of Xavier’s School for the Gifted.
Jean answered. She was thin again after having the baby, a toddler now, resting on her hipbone when she opened the door. The elation she expressed at seeing her old friend was shared by many at the school. Remy was happy to see that Ororo had rediscovered the sanity that had grounded her when they had first met. It was evident. Ororo was finally happy within her own skin. Everyone gathered in the kitchen, and Hank handed Ororo a cup of peppermint tea, and the natural game of catch up commenced.
Ororo quickly discovered that Jubilee and Bobby were dating, Remy and Rogue were still attached at the hip, Scott and Jean had named their little boy Nathan, Hank was continuing his research, and the Professor had just published his third book. Nothing had changed. She looked around the crowd, and did not see the one face she had come to miss the most in her two years.
“Where’s Logan?”
Jean’s expression was saddened, serious. Her eyes widened and she said, “He left Ororo.”
“Oh,” her expression was one of shock, “So he’ll be back in around a week or so, right?”
“No, sweetie,” her voice was soft as she handed the boy to Scott, “He didn’t leave for the Professor. He left for himself. Six months ago. None of us know if he’s coming back. Or where he is for that matter.”
“Oh,” in her face the grief was evident as her eyes shifted to the floor. In her head she heard Jean say, I’m so sorry, babe,” and she raised her eyes to meet with her piercing blue gaze. There was real sympathy there. Compassion from what was once the competition.
Rogue walked Ororo back to her old room. The old wood paneled hallways seemed just the same, the carpeting was the same, the smell was even unchanged. She was home. She passed Logan’s old room on the way to her own.
“Is there anyone in there, now?”
“No. Ah think the Professor is still hoping he’ll be back.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t do this. Ya left him with a fucking letter.”
“Excuse me?”
“You never said goodbye. How would you have felt, situations reversed? Logan’s been through enough without any closure. You were just another item to add to the list,” with that she turned on her heel and sauntered down the hallway.
Within a month Ororo was once again perfectly at home within the walls of the school. She found herself quickly restored to her post at Scott’s side, planning and helping. It felt nice to be second on the food chain again. Scott had awarded her much of the geographical strategies. Mostly that meant her time was spent pouring over maps. It had been an easy month growing accustomed to the old ways again.
She had set up camp in the den that evening, and studied the large maps while she listened to the orchestral music playing on the old radio. Slowly sipping a mug of tea she let her foot dangle from the edge of her seat, the other tucked snugly underneath her. The bright moonlight poured in through the large window and cast a silver tint to the yellow lights that lit the room.
The gravel in the drive tore up under the tires the way it always had. He tore off his helmet as he dismounted the bike and put down the kickstand. His dark hair was still as wild as ever, and the submerged glint in his eyes still shone brightly. It was a black night with a full moon. Every inch of the property was bathed in silver light. His worn jeans and brown leather jacket looked out of place in the picturesque scenery. In a few fierce steps he was once again inside the only place that had not assumed he had to be on his own to thrive.
“Jean?”
Jean’s red hair flew as she whipped her head around to find Logan standing in the door. A large, white smile spread across her face and she said, “You came back.”
“You miss me?”
“It’s good to have you back, Logan. How did every-,”
“Don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Oh, alright, then.”
“Whadid I miss?”
“ Honestly?”
“You’re a terrible liar, Red.”
“Ororo’s back,” as she said this his eyes flashed, and his expression became grim.
“When?”
“A month ago. She’s in the den.”
“Thanks, Red.”
“Logan?”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
He cocked one eyebrow and turned away from her walking to where Ororo had been camped out for the evening. When he entered the room he took note of her, but purposely ignored her existence. As he entered her head shot up, to see who would be disturbing her. The look on her face became that of amazement as she saw the individual.
“Hello, Logan.”
He turned to look at her, pouring a glass of whiskey first. He didn’t respond. Just stared at her: his eyes shot through her body.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Did you?” he spat.
“Yes.”
Once again he just stared. She wasn’t even worth his words anymore. Stupid bitch.
“Logan? Do you think you could forgive me?”
Again , no words. He just turned and left the room, leaving his empty glass on the polished wood of the end table.
Ororo watched him go; knowing what she had wanted to say. Knowing that she would be risking her heart to say it. She wanted him. Seeing him only once reminded her of his taste, and his hands and the way his mouth felt against her skin. She missed him.
Title: Hunter
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, they are property of Marvel. Don’t sue me.
Chapter 2: Flesh
There were fifty separate bumps and cracks in her ceiling. She had counted them four times in a row. Her bed was uncomfortable and she felt restless. In the back of her mind she knew what she had wanted to do, she just needed the courage. At one that morning, she finally managed to gain her confidence.
Her feet knew the way. The mansion was pitch black. No one would see her coming or going. As she approached the door the lights were on. She knew that they would be. Holding her slender arm out to knock on the door, she bit her lip, contemplating any last doubts. As her fist was about to come down on the door, it swung open wide.
“Who the…?” he stood in the doorway in his jeans, the light from his bedroom piercing the utter darkness of the hallway.
“Hello, Logan.”
“Whaddaya want, ‘Ro?”
“Can I come in a minute?”
“I can’t really stop ya,” he turned and walked to the back part of the room where he had been camped out, smoking a cigar. Her eyes wandered aimlessly over his bare chest and she couldn't help but remember the way it felt against her own body.
His eyes ran over her flesh quickly. She still wore the same silky, pale blue nightdress. The fabric left little to the imagination with its flimsy fabric and hugging fit. She still looked amazing.
“Well?” he asked, gruffly.
“Logan…I…” she stuttered. She knew what she wanted to say, but suddenly was at a loss for words.
“What?” he growled and spun to face her, the annoyance beginning to surface.
“Logan, I want you to look at me.”
“You should go,” his voice was cold as he turned back to what he’d been doing.
“Look at me, and tell me that you don’t love me,” slowly his body pivoted and he came to face her once again. The intense blue simply drove through her body and looked away again. He didn’t say anything.
“Logan…” he turned to face her again, and she could tell that his temper was starting to flare.
“You’re gonna get burned, Darlin’,” her nightgown was at her feet on the floor. She stood in front of him, nude, her skin and body as beautiful as he remembered.
“Tell me you don’t love me,” she was challenging him. Her jaw was locked, her eyes like stone, her body glistening. “I miss you,” she softly padded over to where he was standing and lined her body up with is back. He could feel her flesh as it softly brushed his back. Gently, he felt her shift, the heat from her sweet smelling breath pouring down on his neck, and tenderly she kissed the back of his neck.
In two motions he had her pinned against the door, his frame inches away from her own. Ororo could feel the heat radiating from his bare chest mouth. He smelled like beer, cigarettes, and something else, something dark and musky. It was something that was uniquely Logan.
“Don’t do this,” his eyes flashed as he held her there. Barely moving, she tilted her head so her lips just brushed against his own. He could smell her desire, her hope, but never fear. She leaned in and kissed his stubble-covered jaw, slowly trailing her lips down his neck.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
“Don’t push it, babe.”
“Logan, I’m not scared of you. I never have been. I know that you want me. I want it,” she said, her eyes full of fire.
He dove into the soft skin of her neck and chest. A small gasp escaped her lips at the feel of his hot skin and rough stubble on her own flesh. Letting her hands fall, his own rough and callused fingers wandered her body. They worked their way over her flat abdomen, long neck and smooth chest. Letting his mouth wander over her chest, his hands inched their way up her thighs slowly. He could feel the muscles in her stomach tightening with every centimeter. Her breathing had quickened.
Ororo’s eyes opened when the feelings stopped. He was on the other side of the room again.
“’Night, ‘Ro.”
“What?” she asked befuddled and frustrated.
“I decided I had some stuff ta figure out instead,” a smirk came across his face. “You’re nightie’s still on the floor. Don’ forget it.”
“Goodnight, Logan,” she picked up her sad garment from the floor and left the room halfway in-between pissed off and getting off.
“Damn that man! Damn him for what he can do to me and damn myself for letting him!” She walked down the hallway frustrated and angry.
Logan put his cigar back in his mouth as he looked back at what he was doing. “She thinks she can’t get scared. She jus’ don’ know what scared s’posed ta feel like. Yet.”
Title: Hunter
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, they are property of Marvel. Don’t sue me. The song is it’s a shame, by trespassers william.
Chapter 3: Moment
Ororo couldn’t sleep that night. She sat staring out her window into the fading dark sky, biting her left thumbnail. Or what used to be her left thumbnail. The clock on her wall ticked incessantly and the loud click of the hands indicated the arrival of the early morning hours. Deep in her stomach the condensation of the early morning dew resonated. The smell of the grass belonging to a new morning pushed his scent from her memory. The change was welcome. His scent was maddening. As was his taste. As was Logan. Granted, their relationship had never been normal. But for a long time in her life their relationship had been solid. A rock she had come to rely on, feel in her being like the tides and the waning and waxing of the moon. Then it blossomed in the winter of its life.
Over in a moment
You've the only lifeboat
Say you can soothe
But you know that you don't
Somewhere inside she knew that it had been a bad idea to visit him. He was a hunter, one who stalked what he preferred until he could obtain it. One who would chase what he desired in and demanded of life. Had he wanted her he would have found her. But the stone nestled in the bottom of her chest wouldn’t let him go. Therefore she couldn’t.
In a few easy step she padded away from the window and climbed into bed. The soft song of a bird in the distance alerted her to the orange sun. Her silvery-blue eyes fluttered shut as the orb rose in the horizon.
Bitterer because you said it was perfect and I thought it was
Just like everyone does
It's all on my shoulders
You're the one who got to say
"This has all been shame" and I'm the one who had to stay
The cigar had gone out hours ago. Shortly before the fire had burned away. What did she think she was doing? She was playing a dangerous game. And he would play right back. There as no doubt in that. She knew of his affinity for grudges. Obviously she didn’t assume exemption. Stupid little bitch. He crushed the small cigar butt under his heel and smirked.
Bitterer because you said it was perfect and I thought it was
Just like every fool does
It's all on my shoulders
You're the one who got to say
"This has all been a waste" and I'm the one who had to stay
When all things were placed aside, all romantic qualms, all good intentions, what did he have? What the hell were good intentions, anyway? A fuckin’ waste of energy and effort. A goddamn misuse of time. Actions are what count. Obviously intentions can’t mean much when they’re never acted upon. They’re just, well, intentions. What could have happened. What was considered and forgotten. A reminder from the mind that one is selfish and bastardly. A way to easy a guilty conscience. The intentions were there. Intentions are crap.
Trying to find it
A reason not to ache
Sleep was short and relatively useless. Her bones ached. Her muscles were tired. Her sinew strained. Her heart bruised. But he would find her. He would come back to her. The way the hunter returned to mother earth to satisfy his needs. To keep himself nourished. To maintain his totality.
Like when you say that you don't care to stay
You're still not on your way
Never needed her. Only a preoccupation. Damn good in the sack, though. That’s the only shame. Unless…he could play her game. And leave her in shambles. Leave her broken. Leave her crushed. As was custom with an enemy. Stealth on the way in, slow corruption and a final destruction. Fuck her. He didn’t need her. Never did. Fuckin’ whore.
Anything
Wouldn’t he?
I'm still aching
Title: Hunter
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me they belong to MARVEL comics. I am not doing this to make money, so please don’t sue me.
Chapter 4: Baited
Breakfast the next day was extremely awkward. Ororo sat in silence, sipping her tea. Logan gulped his coffee and purposefully made a shameful display of flirting with Jean. Scott sat staring at the two of them and scowling. The chemistry in the room was, needless to say at an imbalance, and emotions were soon to erupt if someone didn’t step in. Hank tried to fix it. As he entered the kitchen for his morning bagel, he sensed the immense tension between the occupants. After cracking a few hopeless and jokes and fruitlessly asking a few questions to lighten up the atmosphere, he headed off to the lab again, whistling.
“Jean, darling, don’t you think it’s time we ran our errands for the day?”
“Hmmm,” her voice was dreamy but one look at Scott’s expression jolted her to reality, “Oh, yes dear. Why don’t we?”
In a great deal of haste they left the kitchen. Ororo locked eyes with Logan and held him in her gaze. It was a draw, each daring the other even to blink, so that victory could finally be declared. Logan lit his cigar carelessly, never breaking the eye contact with Ororo, who continued to languidly sip her tea.
“What the hell are you really thinking? You’re a glutton for punishment, ‘Ro. I said that I don’ wantcha no more.”
“Alright, Logan.”
“Alright?” his eyebrows furrowed and he ground his teeth against his cigar.
“Alright,” she said calmly, knowing that her lack of resistance would get to him, and then she’d have him. “You don’t bother me, Logan. How many times must I tell you that? So for now, I’ll simply respond to your cruel remarks with ‘alright’. You forget that I know how to play your game, Logan, and you can’t get to me.”
“You mean the way Forge got to you?” a small smirk formed on his face as he watched her eyes widen at the drop of the name. “You used to do things the way he wanted you to, you used to suck him the way that he wanted you to, you used to believe the things he wanted you to, you used to fuck the way he wanted you to, you even used to piss the way that he wanted you to.”
“Fuck you, Logan,” Ororo rose from her perch next to the island counter and walked towards the sink, where she deposited her teacup. “You just hate this. That’s what it is,” as she said the words the grin was wiped from his face. “Eventually you’ll come back, crawling, to me. And it sickens you that you would ever give in that way. That you could ever lose a battle like that. You pompous, pig headed, small man. I have you baited,” the grin now began to form on her face as quickly as the growl developed in the depths of his throat. “You’re coming back whether you want to or not. It’s in your blood, your veins. You want me and you can’t stand it.”
In a single leap and bound he was across the room. His arms pinned her in with a loud bang against the cabinet doors, and his face was so close to her that his hot breath caused goose bumps on her neck.
“You forget, ‘Ro. I know everything there is to know about you. I know how you like a good challenge. I know how you like to be screwed and eaten. I know how more than anything you just want me to hold you and kiss that spot at the back of your neck. Don’t tell me I can’t get to you,” another loud bang sounded as he smashed his hands against the cabinets again, Ororo’s heart jumped into her throat. “Don’t for a second think that you can play this game any better than I can.
“Fuck you, Logan.”
“No, fuck you,” with this he leaned in and pressed his warm lips to hers. At first she tried to resist him, but his nimble tongue slipped past her unwilling lips and began to play with her own. His kiss was deep, and he pulled her closer still, grinding his body against her own. With just as much vigor he began to play with the exposed flesh of her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine. She smelled like orchids. He smelled of caffeine and cigars. They locked lips again and used the counter top as a way to press their bodies even closer. Ororo suddenly found herself in need of air, and broke the kiss first.
She held Logan’s eyes for a moment, and neither of them even dared to flinch. “I’m going upstairs,” slipped away and headed up the stairs.
He watched her go, studying the grace with which she moved her hips as she walked away. “Fuck her, he couldn’t get to her,” he thought to himself. “She’s playing straight where I want her.” A crooked smile formed on his face and his picked his cigar up from the ashtray where it was resting on the table.
Scott was standing at the top of the stairs as Ororo headed to her room.
“Can I help you?”
“What are you doing, ‘Ro?”
“Do you have a problem, Scott?”
“He’s wired to hunt and to murder, not to love.”
“Not all men are animals, Scott. Not all animals are vicious.”
“And let me remind you that only one beast turned into a handsome prince by the end of the story.”
Title: Hunter
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me they are the property of Marvel comics! I’m not doing this for money so please don’t sue me. J
Chapter 5: Plunge
What a silly little dance to feed her silly little girlish desires. Secretly, each night she damned herself for this silly little ritual, and yet the madness within her drove her into the habitual wretchedness since that damned kiss.
The kiss that quaked the cracked foundation of an already tattered relationship. It was evident that their dance had shifted after that moment. It seemed that now their connection was a fragile vase teetering either towards a shattering disaster or a surprising safety. So each night Ororo did her dance, and each night nothing changed. No results were obtained.
The first and most important part was patience. Waiting it out. Slowly, the students would trickle off to bed. The yellow glow of the abundant rooms in Xavier’s mansion would slowly ooze to blackness. And Ororo would wash her face, braid her hair and slip into her nightgown. The silence in the mansion would press upon one’s movement, urging relinquish into dreams. And Ororo would put out her light and open her French doors, allowing the tender moonlight to radiate throughout her room and relieve the strain of the shadows: allowing her to keep her cover, and listen for her cue all at once.
After the silence had kept her company awhile, she would hear it. Gravel being sputtered across the drive. A kickstand being released. Heavy footsteps pressing through the halls. A door almost silently opening and closing. Once the door had closed she would tenderly and peacefully shut her doors without a sound, closing out the songs of the lamenting wind. Her bare feet would carefully and noiselessly creep into the hall and follow the familiar path. A path that would lead her to his door.
Underneath the mahogany frame a red orange glow was always visible. She would hear him run the water, and light his cigar. She would listen as he made his way around the room and eventually fell to sleep. Once his light went out she would slide her palm away from the wall, having not worked up the courage to knock, and nimbly tread back to her room where she would soon be asleep. Tonight, like every night since that moment, she found herself standing outside Logan’s door, palm ready, ears pricked and heart pounding.
The door opened in one fast motion, causing Ororo to gasp and spring back. His silhouette was black against the light of the room, which had spilled into the hallway and fought to battle the never-ending blackness around it.
“So, tonight makes this two weeks since you been creeping around here. You got something to say, darlin’?”
“Logan, I…I’m sorry. I should…”
“You sure about that? I’ve been waiting for you to get that stones to knock, babe. Decided I don’ really have much patience any more.”
“Every night? You’ve known I was here each and every night?”
“Sneakier ones that you haven’t beaten me yet, darlin’. Why’d you think you’d be the first?”
“I don’t…I mean…I’m not sure,” Ororo gripped the banister behind her as she squared her shoulders towards him. She would at least have the decency to present herself properly.
“Look at that. You’re cornered, and you’re shook up…and you are so proud that you don’t want me ta know it. But I do,” he moved towards her in the same way a wolf would stalk its prey. “I can smell it. There’s something about me that you never figured out. That still spins your mind. That scares you right now. That makes you cream your panties when you think about me,” a small smirk came across his face as he finally approached her. “And darlin’, I love that you love it.”
He pressed his lips to hers and slowly Ororo slipped out of shock and into the moment. Her body succumbed to his, and as he felt her give in to him his hands pulled her towards him. With some surprise, Ororo felt his erection against her hip.
“Come on,” he lifted her into his arms. “I’m gonna show you what would have happened had you knocked any night in the past two weeks.”
Logan carried her with him into the glow of his room and threw her on his bed. Ororo licked her lips and watched as he closed the door. She could still taste his kiss on her lips.
There was a distinct fire in the depths of Logan’s eyes, which were the only buried insight into his rage and his passion. Tonight, the deep blue fires were burning powerfully. After shutting out the darkness surrounding them, he turned back to the goddess on his bed. The orangey glow of the fire enhanced the rich color of her skin, and lit the confusion, desire and fear in the corners of her eyes. Deep in his mind Logan knew that tonight would be the most important.
Before Ororo could catch her breath from that first kiss, Logan was upon her again. His tongue began to explore her mouth in a burst of heat, and gently she sucked on it, trying to revel in his taste. It was easy to forget how to breathe when he kissed her. His kisses were perfect: a sharp bite behind the tender touch. Everything with Logan was that way. The pain was stealthy hidden beneath and blissfully added upon the pleasure. In a rush she wanted to feel his skin, and began to tare away at his shirt. The feel of his weight on top of her, providing just the right pressure to leave her wanting more. The smell of his bed around her, bringing back the old memories. The taste of his kiss, through which she didn’t want the relief of oxygen. She needed the touch of his skin on her own.
Soon she found herself drowning in him. Her hands greedily exploring the muscles of his torso: tight, powerful and hard. Slowly her flingers ran through the soft hair on his chest, up his neck and into his thick hair as he shifted above her and began to tease her neck and chest. Soon enough, and without fully realizing it, Ororo found her nightgown discarded, and herself nude in front of him.
Logan ran his hands down her legs, from hips to ankles, caressing her thighs and calves. Then slowly began to work his way back up again with his lips and tongue, feeling her shifts and subtle reactions. Ororo grasped the sheets as she knew what was coming. It was an attempt to prepare her for the inevitable connection. It was not enough.
Like the shock of fire and ice she felt his lips and tongue against her and gripped the bedding harder in her fists. She had vividly remembered, and yet time allowed for mild forgetfulness, the savage way that he did this. Eating her the way he wanted to, taking what he wanted. No regard for her pleasure. Simply knowing she would get what she wanted from his getting what he wanted. And slowly her abdomen began to tense, and a large ball began to build inside of her. Then all at once, her back arched and she cried out. Her body felt as if it would split in half with the intensity and she felt nothing but the moment. Nothing but the pleasure, the immense pleasure, of the here and now.
Slowly, Ororo began to return to earth. Her breathing steadied and her muscles relaxed. Logan kissed her abdomen, and her breasts and her chest and her neck: ever so slowly working his way back to her as she worked her consciousness back to him. With a smirk he kissed her again and she wrapped her left leg around him, undoing the button and zipper of his pants in a smooth motion. His body was clearly begging to be relieved of them.
She used the leverage from her leg and all her strength to flip them on his bed, giving her the dominant position. For a moment she allowed his hands to wander her torso, and let him take in the glorious view of her sculpted frame.
Slowly, Logan sat up, cradling her in his lap, and tucked her wild silver mane behind her ears. Carefully, he ran the backs of his fingers over her right cheek and let the palm of his hand come to rest on her left. Raising his other hand and tenderly holding her face in his palms he kissed her softly, gently nibbling on her bottom lip. Ororo tickled his lips back kissing him slowly, and letting her fingers wind through his hair and dance on his back. Gradually their kisses deepened, and the pair began the plunge into the early morning hours.
The fire had started to fade to weak embers. The moon began to hide away as the sun peeked around the grounds. The bitter wind outside was finishing her lonely, saddened song. And the darkness began to retreat and relieve its pressure around them.
Title: Hunter
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. They are all property of MARVEL comics. I don’t make money on this, so I beg you not to sue me!
Chapter 6: Departure
“You have been absolutely blissful for what seems like a month and a half now, Ororo? What is so amazingly glorious?”
“Everything, Hank,” Ororo beamed from her perch at the kitchen table.
“I’m glad for you my dear. I remember how distressed you were not too long ago.”
Hank was stirring his hot coffee in a black mug. He had his lab coat on and was taking a short break before getting back to business. Ororo had a few minutes between teaching her history class and her geography class and managed to get into the kitchen and grab a croissant before they were all gone.
Her long white hair cascaded around her thin form, which was wrapped in a cream colored, crocheted shawl. Jean called it her Grandma Wrap. She wore a pair of tan corduroys and a cream colored camisole as well.
It had been a month and a half since Logan and Ororo rendezvoused in the twilight hours. Since then she had started sleeping at his place regularly, and it was as if the unspoken pain between them had faded. It seemed to be similar to a small cavity in a strange place. It was there. And it hurt like hell. But only sometimes, and if something hit it specifically. Other than that, it was ecstasy.
Ororo hungrily picked apart her second croissant and laughed with Hank.
“As the resident physician I feel compelled to mention that those are not particularly good for you…”
“I don’t care,” she responded, still beaming and with a giggle.
“Alright, then.”
“What do you mean you don’t care? Those are your Kate Moss jeans. I was there when you bought them,” Jean came down the steps, and opened the cabinet searching for a tea bag. While she looked the hot water pot lifted itself from its hot plate and began to pour steaming water into a shining green mug. Putting the pot back and waiting for her mug to float to her, Jean turned back to Ororo.
“Those are your skinny jeans.”
“They’re not really even jeans.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t really understand what is so revealing about skinny jeans. If you need me I’ll be playing with bacterial plasma before I teach biology,” with that, Hank turned and wandered out of the kitchen.
“What’s up with you, ‘Ro? You’ve been acting funny.”
“I’m happy, Jean.”
“No. That’s strange and all, but that’s not it.”
“Ha ha,” Ororo let the words leave her lips in a dry, sarcastic breath.
“It’s something I can’t put my finger on, and I’ve been waiting for you to tell me. Do you know how hard I’ve worked so I don’t overhear anything I shouldn’t?”
“No one asked you to go out of your way.”
“You’re my friend, Ororo. What’s up?”
Jean sat down next to her but Ororo’s blue eyes followed the croissant that lifted itself from the plate and began to butter itself.
“Nothing. It will all be figured out in time.”
“Are you sure? I mean I know you’re happy, I just want you to know I’m here. Good and bad.”
“I know, Jean.”
“I have to run. I have a meeting with the Professor,” Jean hopped up from her seat and dashed towards the door, grabbing the buttered, jellied croissant, floating above the table, as she left.
Ororo went through her classes and the rest of the day in a daze. Logan was returning with Scott, Bobby and Kitty that night. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, and was desperate to talk to him.
When she arrived at his door that night the familiar smell of cigar smoke wafting underneath the doorway let her know that he had returned. She knocked gingerly on the hard wood and waited for a response.
He threw the door open and kissed her firmly on the lips.
“I need to talk to you,” she stammered.
He just smirked in response and kissed her again.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
For a moment, Logan allowed his palms to linger on her cheeks, holding her beautiful face in his hands. His eyes darted between hers, attempting to see further into the icy waters of her eyes. Fire and ice together. The cold color combined with the prevailing passion.
Slowly running the back of his hand over her cheek and lips, she nestled her face against the warmth of his hand and expelled a sole burst of warm breath.
Other than those three simple words, they didn’t speak.
Carefully, Ororo tugged his t-shirt over his head and smiled. She removed his pants with the same tenderness as he slowly started to take off her clothes piece by piece.
Once again, in the gleaming firelight of Logan’s room, their bare skin glistened and glowed. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her over to the bed.
Placing her in front of him he slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Inhaling deeply, her surrounded himself with the smell of her hair.
They didn’t make love that night. They just lie in that position, spooning. The fire eventually faded to black and the deep rhythm of their synchronized breaths resonated through the room. The deep slumber of a single being.
Ororo lay deep asleep in the early morning hours. Her heartbeat was regular and her breathing steady.
Logan slowly moved about the room like a cat. An open duffel bag sat on the floor, and soundlessly, he placed some jeans and t-shirts and cigars. His meager belongings. He zipped it and threw it over his shoulder in a single motion.
He stood in his beat up leather jacket, jeans and a white t-shirt staring at the bed. Taking a long puff of his cigar, her let a thick circle of smoke flutter away from his lips. He watched her sleep for a moment, and something flickered in his eyes. It could have been fear, and sadness. Maybe even love.
His shoulders heavy, Logan turned and walked out of the room. Silently, he closed the door and headed out to the garage.
He crushed his cigar under his heel and stepped onto his bike. The lonely duffel bag sat strapped to the bike behind him. Placing a sleek, black helmet on his head he jettisoned out of the driveway and into the ghostly remnants of the moonlight. Around him the beginnings of a new dawn glowed a pale turquoise.
When he reached the street he looked back at the mansion yet again. This time there was only fear and sadness in his eyes.
Ororo woke up alone in the bed that morning to the pale first glow of the sunlight and the incessant chirping of the birds. Before she even opened her eyes she knew something was wrong.
Sitting up in the bed she saw the open empty drawers. His smell was gone. Logan was gone.
Suddenly very aware of her nudity she bunched the sheets around her and frantically searched the room for some sort of sign. A small envelope rested on the end table next to her.
Opening it with shaky hands she pulled out the one, square note card. There were only three words:
What goes around…
He was gone.
Suddenly she felt as if her internal organs were on fire. As if all of her rage and her sorrow and her terror balled themselves together and burned in her small intestine. Clutching her abdomen with both arms she rolled into the fetal position and began to cry. The sun outside turned to darkness and it began to hail. Rolling onto her back and splaying her limbs she let loose a scream from her belly. It never met her throat.
She arched her back and tightened her muscles as she silently screamed. No one could hear her.
He was gone for good.
Title: Hunter
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. They are all property of MARVEL comics. I don’t make money on this, so I beg you not to sue me!
Chapter 7: Hunter
Three years later…
The bike was tattered and torn, like its rider. It pulled quickly into the driveway, sputtering gravel behind it. The duffel bag latched to the back of the bike held on by the few threads it had left.
Logan lifted the sleek, muddy helmet from his head and looked at the gargantuan mahogany doors. This was the third time he found himself on Xavier’s doorstep. The third time he had returned to this supposed fight for the dream.
“Third times a charm, right?” he thought as he put down the kickstand and dismounted. Taking slow, careful steps to the doorway he knocked loudly three times.
“I got it! I got it!” Jubilee’s voice rang out through the hall. Pulling open the door, Logan immediately noticed the vast changes. Three years ago she was a fifteen-year-old girl. Tiny and naive. Now she was eighteen years old. Her petite figure was fully formed and her dark hair fell to her shoulders. A pair of overly large DKNY sunglasses had replaced her cheap pink ones and she wore low-slung denim and a halter-top. She had grown up.
“Hey kid,” he muttered with a small smirk.
“Logan!” she screamed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Nice to see you, too,” he smiled and gasped as she cut off his windpipe.
Hank and Jean headed down the hallway chatting. They turned to face the doorway when they head Jubilee shout. Hank had started to grey heavily at the temples and lightly throughout his hair. He was more of a shiny, silvery blue now. Jean looked the same. Still beautiful. Her red hair as tied into a neat knot behind her head and she wore a green sheath dress and tall high heels.
“You came back. I never thought you’d…”
“Jean, I””
“Logan!” Scott’s shout cut through the moment like a bitter knife. “Downstairs. The Professor wants to see you. Now.”
Normally Logan would have fought the order. The blood boiling in his veins told him to do just that. But then he saw Jean’s eyes. They were pleading with him to simply listen this time. It wasn’t worth it to fight this time. He was in the wrong. He felt it on his shoulders since he had decided to return. Guilt is a heavy burden.
“Are you both blind to the fact that this is going to kill her? Her sanity depends on never seeing him again!”
Moments later Logan found himself outside the War Room pacing, waiting for a verdict. Scott was avidly fighting for his rejection. That much he could hear clearly. The Professor and Jean though, they seemed to be on his side.
“You give Storm much less credit than she deserves, Cyclops,” the Professor scolded. “She is strong enough to be your right arm and a solid foundation for every part of this institution…she is strong enough. I will not turn him away.”
“Professor! Charles! He…”
“Scott, please,” Jean turned and addressed her raving husband. “If you trust us, and I think you do, have faith. Faith in my belief in Logan. Faith in the Professor. Faith in Ororo,” Jean’s voice was morose and heavy as she spoke. Her tears were palpable in her words.
“You lost faith in him a long time ago, Jean. Don’t pretend you still believe in him!”
The words stopped Logan’s pacing. He froze and waited.
“I hate what he did to her. I hate what he did to James. However, I refuse to turn my back on someone who knows nothing else. Scott, I thought you understood all of this. Cruelty breeds cruelty.”
“And we were never kind to him?” this time Scott’s voice thundered and spit flew from his mouth.
“Stop this now. I won’t have this intolerance, Scott.”
“He did it to be cruel to her. He wanted to hurt her, Professor.”
“And what proof do you have of this, Scott?”
“I don’t.”
“And where did he say he had gone, Jean?” the Professor asked pointedly.
“He told me he’s been riding state to state, still trying to find Weapon X. As with each time he gets a little further, but the true answers are still out of reach. And now he’s standing outside, listening to this hoping for an answer. And I’m going to give it to him,” Jean turned and marched towards the door, her heels clicking mercilessly on the cold floor.
“Jean…”
“Scott, trust us. He needs us. You turn your back on him, you turn your back on those that need our cause the most.”
“As my successor, Scott, I would hope you’d show more sympathy, dare I say, humanity, in the future,” the Professor exited the room and gave a nod to Wolverine on his way out.
“Welcome home, Logan,” Jean spoke softly and flickered her eyes to the floor to avoid his gaze, before continuing behind the Professor.
Logan looked into the War Room at Scott, who stood gritting his teeth and fuming. In a few violent steps he was inches away from Logan’s face, enraged and staring down at him.
“Take you old room back,” he tossed him the key. “Other than that, I could give a crap what you do.” Scott’s voice was dead, and he turned down the hall and marched away not even allowing a second glance.
Logan was slowly making his way back to his old room when Jubilee came running up from behind him.
“I was sent to say that Hank already told Storm you were back. In other words, get the hello in before it seems too late. New room number though. It’s 356. Bye! We should see a movie!” she just kept moving on her way.
Throwing his duffel bag into his room, and watching one of the last remaining seams split, he closed the door again and turned to make his way down the hall. He’d been dreading this. Last time, when she came back he had the power. This time, she had it all. The shift was immense and uncomfortable.
Dragging his feet to her door, he placed three heavy knocks against the shining wood and hung his head in wait.
The hinges creaked almost soundlessly as to door crept open and Ororo’s milky voice poured out.
“Hello, Logan. Come in.”
This new room was like a small apartment of it’s own. There was a small room that branched off of the main bedroom and a tiny kitchen with a small stove, fridge and table for two. She poured two cups of tea and invited him to sit with her.
“Ororo, can I please just…”
“It cannot be undone, Logan. Know that before you say anything else.”
“I’m sorry, ‘Ro.”
“Apology accepted. You did what you felt was…necessary, I presume.”
Her voice, with its rich warmth was cold to him. The balmy elegance, which kept it afloat, still lingered sensually but she was different towards him. Her words were precise and without passion.
Sitting back in his chair Logan spoke with a raspy whisper, “You hurt me. I just wanted to let you feel it: what I felt. I trusted you.”
“And I you, Logan. Clearly we were both mistaken,” blowing tenderly on her tea she took a long sip before speaking again. “So you’ve returned, now. What do you expect of me? Joy? Fear? Rage?”
“Nothin’,” the word darling sat on the tip of his tongue but he caught himself before releasing it, like a foul curse word.
“Then that is what I’ll give you. Nothing.”
“I have no right…but…I love you. Always will.”
“Then why the hell did you wait three years to come back here and apologize, Logan?” her first hint of emotion escaped.
“The day I left I knew I made a mistake. I’m a stubborn bastard, ‘Ro.”
“I know,” she closed her eyes.
“I wanted to turn around by daylight, but I knew you’d found the card by then. Knew you’d hate me. And then the days passed by, and I still wanted to come back, but I wanted the right time and the right thing to say. Still don’t have either. Never will. So I came back. Believe me when I say I was thinking about you.”
“Did you find the Colonel?”
“Nope.”
“I know how you feel, Logan. I left you once and I have been in your shoes. I know what it’s like to come back and be afraid the one person consuming your thoughts will turn you away again. And on top of it all, you did it to yourself.”
“Ororo, I…”
“One moment. I need to take care of something.”
She slipped into the small side room for a moment. Logan ran his index finger in lazy circles around the rim of his cup.
A few minutes later Ororo emerged from the small side room. Logan felt as if he had swallowed his tongue. In her arms was a toddler wrapped in a sky blue blanket. His skin was the color of coffee with too much cream and he had a wild mass of dark hair. The baby had clearly just woken up, and was sucking his small thumb and rubbing his eyes with a tiny fist. His big, oceanic blue eyes. Not the icy blue color of Ororo’s captivating eyes. A distinct, warm pacific blue. With flecks of navy.
“What’s his name?”
“James Logan Monroe. He’ll be three in a little under a year.”
“My God, ‘Ro. If I had,” he began with barely enough breath to speak.
“I was going to tell you the night that you left.”
At this, Logan just put his head in his hands.
Wriggling out of his mother’s arms, James walked over clumsily on his little legs, and grabbed on to Logan’s knee.
Feeling the small hands on his legs, Logan looked down into the baby’s eyes. Reaching his small arms up and clenching his hands into fists twice, he waited for Logan to pick him up.
Carefully, Logan lifted him onto him lap.
“Hi,” he said barely audible.
The baby just smiled, giggled and waved.
There were a few tears streaming down Logan’s cheeks, and James noticed it. Speaking in clear gibberish, the baby lifted his security blanket and attempted to wipe away the tears.
“He doesn’t want you to be sad,” Ororo spoke with a heartbreaking smile.
Logan smiled weakly and the toddler smiled back.
“He’s developing fine. He can walk, and he understands everything you say. We’re still working on the talking, but that’s normal for his age. It’s mostly gibberish.”
Her eyes softened as she watched her son nestle into Logan’s chest and fall asleep again.
“He knows you.”
Logan lifted his eyes to meet hers.
“I won’t deny him the right to know you, nor you, him. He should know his father. I’m not saying anything for us. I’m not saying anything for the future. What I will say is this: if you sit here now, and chose this life now, chose to be his father, you cannot leave again. So help me Logan, if you EVER hurt or abandon my son, I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and kill you. Healing factor or not. If you plan on leaving again, then leave now. You’ve at least met him.”
Cradling his sleeping son in his arms, Logan felt something overwhelm him. It was bigger than anything he had ever known before. More encompassing that terror or love. More driving than rage. James smelled like sheets and baby shampoo, and like Ororo. Holding his son close to his chest Logan felt his shallow steady breathing, and his little heartbeat and he couldn’t help but smile. This tiny person was a part of him and part of them. So pure. So perfect. He felt himself surrender to his son unconditionally. He forfeited his life and soul to the boy right then and there.
He felt Ororo’s eyes on him and their child.
All the searching through the past had brought him here. It had brought him back to her. It had brought him to their child. She still loved him. Both understood that they could never stop loving each other. Yet, there were still so many unspoken words, and tremendously threaded emotions. Forgiveness sat on a tender wire between their history and their possibilty. She sipped her tea slowly and watched as Logan changed in front of her.
All his anger melted away. All his fury evaporated. The beast was satiated. The hunter had found what he had been searching for.
“Welcome home, Logan.”
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.