Hell

The darkness was near unbearable. But not nearly so much as the screams. Ragged and tortured they filled the blackened charcoal air, never-ending. Tormented souls, lost and trapped in this place. Like her.
Her bare feet flew over the charred ground, her breath leaving her lungs in labored gasps. How long had she been running? She didn’t know. It felt like forever. Slipping along the loose gravel, the palms of her hands scraping against rough stones drawing blood as she scrambled up the incline of the volcanic mound.
A blood chilling screech. Close behind. Keep moving. Keep moving. Her chest ached, her muscles screamed in protest. She grabbed an outcrop, pulling herself forward. Another screech, closer still. Move. Move. Move.
Hot lava trailed along the blackened earth beside her, it’s heat making her flinch. They hated the lava. So did she. The stones were becoming hotter, harder to hold on to. She could feel the flesh on her hands blistering. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just move.
Long talons embedding in her back, tearing through flesh and muscle. Don’t think. Act. Move. Instinct. Lashing out with her foot, connecting a solid mule kick. Move. Move. More are coming. Move! Hauling herself up, belly scraping rough terrain. Another attack, teeth sinking into her shoulder from behind. A screech of satisfaction.
Roll. Into the lava. Another screech as the molten rocks scorch the creature from her back. Good, that’s done. Now, move.
Finding her footing she stumbled forward, heedless of the crimson trickling down her back from her wounds. She had to keep moving. To rest was to die. Taking a deep breath she plunged through a sulfur cloud, moving towards the upper crest of the volcano. She had to get where they would not follow. A burst of hot lava streaming from between separating rocks, splashing her, searing her.
She wiped the red-hot molten rock from her arm hurriedly, her eyes catching a glimmer of something shiny on her hand. Wiping away the blackened soot revealed three beautiful stones. She felt a familiar ache in her chest. She could see him in her mind. Dark, menacing, long metal claws extended from the backs of his hands. His snarling face didn’t frighten her though, instead she found it soothing, consoling. In her darkest moments when she was sure she would lose what little sanity she had left, she would picture him in her mind and be comforted. She loved him. She needed to remember him. She would be lost otherwise.
She was close to the summit now, the air all but un-breathable with sulfur and brimstone. She got a flash of a furry blue face and swooshing tale.
Screeching. No time to reminisce, keep moving. Her foot slipped. No! She slid along the crumbling surface, tender flash being cut and burned as she dropped twenty feet, her hands frantically trying to find purchase in the jutting rocks. She caught one, stopping her decent with a painful jerk. Gritting her teeth, body exhausted beyond endurance she struggled forward again. Keep moving! To stop is to die! She raged at herself. Her arms shook with effort as she clung to the blistering stones, heaving herself over the burnt soil once again. A rivulet of sweat trailed down her back, stinging her open wounds. She grimaced. Maybe death wasn’t such a bad option… she breathed heavily, puffing black soot into the air, her face buried in the dirt, arms stretched over her head as she lay fatigued. Bloodthirsty screeching. Was there no reprieve? No. This is what happens when you lock yourself in Hell, she thought angrily. Keep moving, no giving up. Just keep moving. One step at a time. Only a little further now...
She covered the ground quickly, her body passing fatigue and moving numbly over the singed earth. There was no life here. No flowers, no trees. Nothing. This cursed place was nothing but molten rock, heat and ash, crawling with demons and nightmares that she could never have dreamed up even in the darkest regions of her mind.
Reaching a small outcropping of rocks that jutted towards the open mouth of the volcano she sat. Her bare legs dangling over the open mouth, staring at the boiling, bubbling, glowing liquid. Overhead she could hear the frustrated shrieks of the demons chasing her. It was endless. She battled everyday against these nightmares made real, and the battles were taking their toll. She had stopped sleeping a long time ago, dozing for no more than ten minutes at a time, out of fear that they would find her and devour her as she’d seen them do to each other.
She had made weapons from stones, stealing others from the demons for protection. She was skilled at hand to hand, and she was relentless. Mercy would get her killed. There was no room for it here.
She looked down again. In the lava she caught sight of a silver and black shimmer just below the surface. She knew what that was. A slipstream. She had felt it only recently and had at first dismissed it as wishful thinking on her part, but here she was looking at a possible doorway home. A doorway under a scorching layer of lava, she reminded herself.
Leaning back on the unsteady rocks she closed her eyes. She caressed the ring on her hand lovingly. She imagined a rough graveled voice whispering in her ear. “I love ya, baby.” She smiled. “I love you…Logan!” She sat straight up. Logan. Logan. Logan.
She rose to her feet, a bit unsteady. No one said this was going to be easy. Taking a deep steadying breath she pictured Logan in her mind, His steel eyes, his crooked smile, his wild hair, and the steady drum of his heart under her ear. “Time to go home.” She closed her eyes, spreading her arms wide and freefalling into the orange glow.


New York
Night

Wolverine stood on one of the wooden boating docks that littered the lake outside of the Xavier Institute in Westchester, New York, skipping flat stones across it, watching them drop into the water. He had come out here to try and relax after a particularly bad nightmare. He had woke up in the middle of the night, her name on his lips and visions of her being ravaged by demonic creatures burned into his brain.
She’d be gone two years tonight and though most things had returned close to normal, nothing had ever felt the same for him. Logan had taken her death the hardest he had ever taken anything. Many thought he would go rogue or revert to some base animal killing machine, that’s how bad it got. But in the end he had adjusted to, if not accepted, the fact that she was gone.
Surprisingly the one person who shared his grief and rage was the Cajun. Well, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise. They had both loved her, each in their own way, and Gambit had come to realize that no one would love Storm the way Wolverine did.
Gambit loved her differently. He loved her in away that defied any love the man had known before. It wasn’t physical, although Logan was sure Gumbo wasn’t immune to having had naughty thoughts about his beloved “sister”, but instead his and Storm’s relationship had been more spiritual in nature. Without her to talk to Gambit had fallen into a deep depression. He had even contemplated leaving the team, but Wolverine had talked him out of it. Telling him that she would’ve wanted him to continue to fight the good fight.
Wolverine grumbled thinking of his and Gambit’s earlier argument. Once again they were not seeing things eye to eye. They had damn near dismantled the Danger Room with their heated “discussion”.
He sighed, plopping down onto creaking planks. His mind once again returning to Storm. She had always read him wrong, he mused. She saw him as a hero, he knew this because she’d told him that more than once over the years, but he wasn’t. He was a killer, a fraud and a liar. But she had loved him anyways.
He rested his chin on his palm, elbow on his upturned knee. He’d never known anyone like her. She had loved him unconditionally. She had remained true. His best friend, his lover, his soul.
From the corner of his eye he saw a shooting star. Make a wish Logan, he heard Storm’s velvet voice in his mind, remembering back to a time they had sat beside this very lake watching the night sky, wrapped in each others arms.
“What did you wish for?” She had asked.
“That you and me would always be together.” He had answered.
She had laughed. “You are not supposed to tell me.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Do not worry, Logan. I will always be here for you.”
Now, he closed his eyes, chest tight, muttering under his breath, “Liar.” When he opened his eyes again it was in time to see a flaming rift open in the sky directly above the lake and a small heap crash into the lake, sending a plume of water fifty feet in the air, showering cold water across his hair and face.
Wolverine leaned over the edge of the dock, peering into the darkness. “What the hell?”
A steaming silver haired angel surfaced from the shallow waters, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, pulling his head down and kissed him quick and hard on the mouth, saying, “I am home!”
“’Ro?” His voice caught.
She grinned up at him from the water.
“It is you!” Wolverine’s heart was in his throat, his vision blurry.
Ororo reached up, her fingers caressing the warm stubble of his cheek, her eyes soft. “Do not just gape at me like you have never seen a naked woman tumbling from the sky before. Help me out.” Wolverine was shaking so bad he wasn’t sure he could help her out, but he clasped his hand over hers, pulling her limp form from the water.
She landed on the dock with a wet flop. After a moment she rolled over, wiping long strands of singed white hair from her face, smiling. She was home. Logan! She sat up and looked at him. His face was positively comical. His black eyes were wide, and his mouth was moving but nothing was coming out.
“Hello, sunshine,” she whispered, leaning towards him. Arms like bands of steel wrapped around her, hauling her against him. His mouth claimed hers enthusiastically, his hands tangling in the wet mass of her hair, pulling her closer still. She clung to him as he buried his face against her neck, great heaving sobs wracking his body. She stroked his thick ebony hair, murmuring soothing sounds against his temple, but soon she too was overcome by her emotions, crying and clinging to him. They sat that way for a long time, crying and making wordless sounds of comfort for each other.
Logan pulled back, eyes roaming over her face. Good God, it was her. She was dirty and mangy and beautiful. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Ororo smiled tenderly, her hand cradling his cheek. She was home and in his arms again. She sighed, content to be held by him.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a cozy little scene. But I suggest, Storm, that you take your hands off my husband!”

“Viper!” Ororo hissed the with as much venom as the name implied.
“Storm.” The other woman strode forward, her harsh, attractive features revealed by the filtering light of the moon. One of Hydra's premier agents, master of both hand-to-hand and armed combat, Viper was a dangerous enemy. She was wearing her trademark leather and snakeskin getup, her green hair pulled back in a long braid. Her dark red lips were parted in a cruel smile. “Take your hands off my husband.” She repeated, placing her hand on her hip, resting it on her holstered weapon in silent threat.
“Viper,” Wolverine growled low and fierce, his arms tightening around Storm.
“What, lover? Afraid I may hurt the little witch?”
“Logan?” Ororo turned to him, disregarding Viper, her blue eyes narrowing. “What is this woman, and I use that term loosely, doing here?”
Logan glared at Viper. Damn her! God Damn her! He looked at Storm and his eyes reflected tormented sorrow. No! He couldn’t have! He wouldn’t have!
Ororo tried to pull away from him. “Liar.” She accused. Viper thought she was talking to her and said, “Oh, no, Storm. I assure you we are very married.” But Wolverine knew the word was meant for him.
“’Ro,” he said, touching her cheek, his dark eyes black with emotion. He couldn’t get anything out past her name though, his throat closing up.
“If I were you, Storm, I suggest you cover yourself, because from the commotion your little lightshow just caused, I’d say we’re going to have company any second.” Viper said. She stood casually, with feigned indifference to the exchange between Wolverine and Storm. However, her brown eyes narrowed on the woman cradled in Wolverine’s arms, his stance screaming protectiveness.
For the first time Logan let his gaze wander down Ororo’s naked form and he swore at what he saw. She was covered with lacerations and bruises, her body blistered in some places and rubbed raw in others. What in the fuck had she been through? He looked into her eyes, which were now orbs of solid white. She was retreating from him, he realized, seeking the cold...the ice of reservation and the safety of solitude. With a savage snarl he pulled her to him, wanting her to look at him. “’Ro…”
“What in de ‘ell is going on down ‘ere?”
Figures. Wolverine pulled Ororo closer despite her trying to pull away from him.
“Merde, Wolverine. If you and de bitch-bride wanna have a little firework show warn da rest of us first. Damn near jumped outta my--” Gambit’s steps faltered. His red on black gaze disbelieving. “Stormy?”
Despite her confused state and rapidly building anger Ororo managed to smile with warm sincerity at her brother. “Do not call me that retched name.” She whispered.
Gambit’s knees gave way beneath him. Ororo tugged against Wolverine’s grip and he let her go, knowing she would never forgive him for keeping her from Gambit. Ororo dropped to her knees and embraced Remy. “Ssshh,” she soothed as he gasped for air. “I am here, Remy. Ssshh.” He was muttering furiously under his breath and Ororo was only able to catch a few words, but they made her chuckle. “Gambit, are you praying?”
“Yes.“ He raised his hands to her burnt hair. “You look like hell, padnat.”
“Funny you should mention it,” she said, tone dry.
“Merde. Sorry, Stormy. You know me, open mouth-insert foot.”
“Yes. Some things are blessedly always the same.” She said, looking over at Logan, wondering if what Viper said was true. He hadn’t corrected her, and his silent acquiesce weighed on her.
She was shivering she realized suddenly, her body too exhausted to ward off the chill in the night air. Gambit felt the small tremors running through her and swore, removing his duster and draping it over her shoulders. “Thanks.” She wobbled slightly, her eyes drooping, but Wolverine was suddenly there, strong arms lifting her, cradling her to his chest like she were a child.
Ororo sighed, pressing her nose into the soft skin of his throat. Warm, musky cigar scent filed her nostrils and she felt tears prick her eyes. Home. That’s what he was, he was her home. The place where her heart and soul resided. She brushed his skin softly with her lips. Safe. She closed her eyes.
Wolverine shuddered. His mind in chaos. ‘Ro was home, back in his arms where she belonged. He pulled her closer, rubbing his stubbled chin along the top of her head. He could feel Viper glaring poisonous daggers into him, but he was just too damn raw to care.
“Could we move it along.” Viper said as if she found this situation as interesting as a traffic jam on the interstate.
“We should get ‘er to Jean,” Gambit said, ignoring her.
“Yeah.“ Logan looked down at Storm, who was opening and closing her eyes drugedly. “We’re takin’ ya home now, ‘Ro.” He said into her hair. They began moving towards the mansion, Ororo cradled against his chest, Gambit clutching one of her limp hands and Viper trailing behind them, her mouth a thin line of contempt.
“Jeannie!” Wolverine hollered with his voice and mind, hoping to wake her up. “Jean!”
*Logan, what in the wor--?!? Storm!*
*Yeah. She found her way home, Red.*
*On my way!*

Med-Lab

“These look pretty bad, Storm,” Jean said, rubbing an alcohol soaked pad along some of Ororo’s deeper cuts. Jean had shifted straight into doctor mode upon seeing her best friend, stripping Gambit’s jacket from Ororo and examining her. She had almost cried out at the injuries she saw under the duster, but she had refrained. There were just so many. Fresh ones, old ones and fading scars. Ororo never scarred and eventually these would be nothing more than a painful memory, but Jean was still taken aback.
“The Daemonites did not take kindly to me sending them back to Hell,” was all Ororo responded with. She didn’t want to think about that place, or the countless battles she had fought. Not any more.
“I can give you something for the pain. It’ll make you sleepy but-”
“No!” Ororo jerked upright from her position on her stomach. “No sedatives.” Her voice shook. She knew she was acting strange, but couldn’t help herself. Two years in Hell had felt like a hundred and it would take her some time to get over it.
“Easy, darlin’.” Logan took a step forward, reaching for her hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, his thumb grazing the ring she still wore, tearing at his heart. Ororo smiled at him tentatively. An uneasy tension lay between them, her unspoken question and his reluctant answer hanging in the air.
Jean rolled her stool to Ororo’s side, saying, “The stitches won’t hurt.”
“I am ever confident in your skills,” Ororo said with a quirk of her lips, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes. She hissed in a breath when she felt the needle pierce her skin, but Logan took a seat right in front of her, his steady gaze never leaving hers. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, rubbed his hand along her hair.
After several minutes Jean snipped the final stitch. “Finished.” Jean said as she rolled away.
Ororo shifted so that she was laying on her side, head cradled by the sterile white pillow of the med-lab bed. Logan shifted with her so that he remained in eye contact.
Jean pulled off her latex gloves with a snap and gave Wolverine a pointed look. “She’s to rest. No disturbances.”
Wolverine looked away from Jean’s hard green gaze. He knew what she was referring to, and in fact he could smell Viper outside the lab in the hall. Viper. His lips curled in a semi-snarl. His wife.
Noticing the rigid set of Logan’s shoulders Ororo asked, “What’s wrong?”
Logan leaned forward, kissing her softly, lips lingering. “Yer home, darlin’, what could possibly be wrong. Rest now. I’ll be right here.”
*You’re going to have to tell her eventually.*
*I know, Red. But not tonight. She doesn’t need that shit right now.*
*You’re absolutely right, Wolverine. She doesn’t need that shit.*
Logan flinched, guilt settling over him like a heavy blanket. He took in Ororo’s resting profile and clenched his teeth. Fuck.

Ororo bolted upright, covered in sweat, panting. How long had she been out? She reached for her stone knife only to come up empty handed. She nearly panicked until she realized she was not surrounded by tortured screams and charred earth, but instead was sitting in a comfy bed, surrounded by medical equipment. Gambit was reclining in a chair in the corner of the room, head tilted, asleep. She smiled at him.
Where was Logan? She looked around the dim room but he wasn’t there. She frowned. He said he would be here. Grunting, Ororo pushed herself off the bed, padding across the cool tiles, her bare feet making faint slapping sounds as she went. The doors slid open with a hiss, the sound jerking Gambit awake.
“Storm?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The bed was empty. Shit. He looked around the room, checking the bathroom. No Stormy. Shit. Shit. Shit. He knew where she was headed and he needed to stop her.
“Stormy?” He called stepping into the hall. The overhead lights flickered. Looking both ways Gambit could see no one. He moved quickly down the hall pushing the elevator button, knowing she would be taking the stairs, hoping to beat her to Wolverine. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Gambit shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently. It would serve Wolverine right if he let Stormy go to his room and see what he had done, but Gambit couldn’t stand the idea of her being hurt anymore than she had been. Storm would learn the truth soon enough.
Ding. About damn time. He pushed the button for the second floor, mildly annoyed by the faint tinkering piano music playing overhead. He’d have to talk to Cyclops about that crap.
Once the elevator stopped he rushed from the sliding doors. He raced down the hall, feeling like he was moving in slow motion.
Storm heard someone call her name but ignored them. She turned the door knob to Logan’s room, opening the door without knocking. Viper stood in the center of the room, glaring at her.
“I‘d prefer it if you knocked on the door to my room,” she said scathingly.
“I apologize I thought this was Logan’s room.” Maybe he‘d moved rooms. Was he in her loft? She wondered. She didn’t have to wonder long as the bathroom door adjacent to the bedroom swung open and Wolverine stepped out, one towel draped around his waist and another in his hands as he rubbed his thick hair.
“Stormy!” Gambit’s voice came from the hall. He stood behind Ororo, his jaw tight. He placed one hand on her shoulder saying softly, “Some things have changed…”
“Viper? Who the fuck are you talking to?” He growled fiercely. What the hell was she still doing in his room. He had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to move her shit out. She had of course been furious, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d honor his end of the deal, but their situation was different now that ‘Ro was back.
Wolverine’s head snapped around as he caught the scent of earth and rain, of nature purified. “’Ro.” Logan swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He couldn’t find his voice, couldn’t make a single sound. The pain on her face made his chest ache, every heartbeat a burden. He reached for her and she recoiled as if he had physically struck her. Ororo’s gaze flicked over his wife, and though her chin remained high, when she blinked he saw a solitary tear slide down her cheek. “Let me explain,” he began.
Ororo shook her head mutely. She swallowed hard, moistening dry lips. Unshed teardrops sparkled on her thick, dark lashes, forming damp spikes, making the ache in his chest spread throughout his entire body. “Good bye, Wolverine.”
Everything he had ever wanted stood in front of him and he was about to lose it all. She stood frozen another moment, her eyes locked with his, her face bleak with pain and his heart crumbled in his chest.
Then without a word she closed the door softly, walking away from the only man she’d ever love. She could hear him making his way after her, and she just couldn’t deal with it.
“Gambit…” her voice cracked on his name and Gambit’s heart broke for her.
“No worries, petite.” He looked at Rogue who was in the hallway now, having heard the commotion. She nodded her head in understanding. They were not to let Logan pass.
Ororo made it all the way up to her attic loft before she crumpled to the floor, enormous heaving sobs racking her body. The Daemonites hadn’t managed it, two years in the foulest pits of hell hadn’t done it, but this…this did it. Tonight Ororo Munroe died.
Storm raised her head to the heavens, the bright stars twinkling at her through the skylight, their beauty a savage mockery of her pain. Rivulets of tears slid down her face, descending down her neck. She rose to her feet, her mind in turmoil. How could he? How could he!?! How dare he!!!
Walking over to her dresser she snatched up the picture sitting atop it. It was one of her. She was standing by a Willow tree, it’s roots sprawling from ground, wearing a long white dress, her hair blowing in the breeze. She remembered this picture. Logan had taken it the day after she had told him about making the roots grow. With a savage cry she hurled the image against the wall, glass breaking. That Ororo was long gone.
With brutal determination Storm picked up one of the shards of glass, headless to it gouging her palm. She bunched her charred hair in her hands and with angry satisfaction cut through the layers, watching it fall, blackened and bloody to the floor.
She threw open her closet, briefly noticing that nothing had been changed in her two year absence, pulling out her lavender and black uniform. No. She threw it aside. Reaching deep in the back of the closet she found her black leather pants and vest. Perfect.
*Ororo.* Jean could feel her rage, and tried to calm her.
*Go away!* Ororo slammed up a psychic barrier hard and fast.
In her room Jean Grey flinched. Oh, Logan, what have you done?

“Move it, Gumbo!” Wolverine snarled.
“Take it easy, homme. Stormy just need some time now.”
“Get the fuck outta my way!” -SNIKT-
“Wolverine, calm down.” Rogue said, moving to his left. If she could get close to him, maybe she could drain him enough to keep him from going after Storm. Picturing Ororo’s heartbroken face Rogue found herself once again furious at Logan. How he could marry that venomous bitch was beyond her. He had told her he had his reasons, but as far as Rogue could see there wasn’t anything that justified that.
“Listen to them, Wolverine,” came the venomous bitch’s voice from the bedroom. “Obviously the little girl needs to go lick her wounds.”
Wolverine whirled on her, his face a mask of rage. He leapt at her, two adamantium claws framing her face, the third extended until it dimpled the soft flesh under her chin. “Shut. Up.”
Viper’s breathing increased, but not out of fear. She was aroused, Logan realized with disgust. He shoved her away. Viper laughed nastily from her position on the floor, but said nothing more.
Turning back to the hall Wolverine noticed Gambit had disappeared and only Rogue stood in his way. “Step aside, Rogue, I don’t wanna hurtchya, but I will.” He said deadly serious. He needed to get to Storm. “Rogue. Please.”
Hating herself Rogue stepped aside. His eyes had been so tortured.
Logan took the stairs three at a time. “Sorry, Wolverine.” Gambit was leaning against Ororo’s bedroom door, glowing pink card between his index and middle fingers.
“Move.”
Gambit straightened. “Da only way in is through me.”
Less than half a second later Gambit’s body crashed through the bedroom door, splintering the wood and knocking the hinges loose. Wolverine strode in through his makeshift doorway only to discover the room was empty. He looked up, noticing the open skylight. “No.” he said aloud. A glimmer of white caught his eye and he turned, seeing for the first time the pile of sheared hair on the floor. He walked over to it, picking up one snowy lock. It curled softly around his blunt finger and he wanted to howl with loss.
“Wolverine.” Jean stood in the broken doorway, worry written all over her face.
“What the hell, Jean. You said that sedative would keep her out all night!”
“She must’ve fought through it. Besides, I don’t think her sleeping is your biggest issue.”
Wolverine growled. “I know.”
“I hope you give her better answers than you gave us,” Jean said in quiet anger.
“If she’ll let me.” Logan said quietly.

Wolverine prowled the grounds restlessly, having emerged from the institute only moments ago, wearing hastily donned jeans and nothing more, frantic in his search for Storm. He raised his head, sniffing the air for the hundredth time, hoping to catch her scent, knowing she more than likely had taken to the air, preventing him from following her. “Where are ya, ‘Ro?” He loped across the expansive yard, his heart heavy.

Storm landed softly, her feet moving soundlessly across the ground, her eyes steady on her target; A statue that she had spotted from the air, drawing her attention. It sat in the forefront of the X-Men burial sight.
It was an amazing likeness, she thought as she approached, staring at the marble image of herself. The statue had her head tilted, stone hair flowing behind it, arms behind her as she leapt for the sky, one knee bent the other leg stretched straight, supported by marble clouds. The engraving was bold and scrawled beautifully: Our Beloved Windrider, Lost But Not Forgotten.’ And though emotionally jarring to see her own memorial, nothing could have prepared her for the name carved in the base of the statue: Ororo N’Dare Munroe Howlett.
Ororo knelt, running her fingers over the imbedded words, a sob catching in her throat.
“We figured it’s what you would’ve wanted,” came a hoarse drawl.
Ororo spun around, facing the man that she once believed loved her as much as she him, right up until he had crushed her heart. “It would have been,” she said in seething anger.
Wolverine stepped forward, his bare chest still damp from his shower, water droplets sparkling in the moonlight. Ororo turned her head away, closing her eyes, unable to look at him standing there barefoot in jeans, so beautiful, so primal. A living breathing manifestation of nature was what he was, and she found that damn near impossible to resist. Always had.
“’Ro…” He stepped closer.
“Do not!” Her head snapped up, eyes flashing.
Logan growled in frustration. He needed her to listen, but knew that even when the truth was known, the pain wouldn’t be any less, for either of them. “Dammit, ‘Ro, just hear me out.”
“Wolverine, go home. Go to your wife.” Ororo nearly choked as that word left her mouth, but did not, instead forcing her emotions back inside, under the protective casing of ice and solitude.
Heedless of her sparking eyes Wolverine stepped forward, moving cautiously as one does when faced with a wounded animal, unsure of its actions. “Viper can wait.”
Ororo gave a bitter laugh. “But apparently you could not.”
Wolverine winced. “I thought you were dead, ‘Ro,” he defended weakly.
“I wasn’t.”
Wolverine did not miss the meaning of those two small words and he hated that he had brought her to this. “’Ro, please.” He reached out, hand touching her stiff shoulder. He was immediately thrown several feet as a blast of icy wind knocked him aside.
“God damn it, Storm, listen to me!” Wolverine was angry now. All of his old hurt swelling to the surface. “You owe me that much! Let’s not forget one simple truth in all this, Storm. You left me!! You fuckin’ left!” He was snarling now.
“Are you serious?” Ororo demanded incredulously. “I did that to save your life! I saw-” Her voice faltered as she remembered the images of her friends lying dead, gutted and being devoured that had flashed in her mind that fateful day so long ago. She regained herself quickly, however saying, “ I saw what they were going to do! I felt it, Wolverine. They were going to use me to destroy the world! I had no choice!”
Wolverine growled at her. “You had a choice! You could have stayed with me!”
“I came back for you, you Pigheaded man!!” She screamed the last on a wave of frustration and sorrow. “I always come back for you.” That was whisper soft, but he heard it.
He said nothing, knowing the truth of that statement. He looked up at the sky, heaving a heavy sigh. God, how he loved her. He had to make her see.
“Go.” Ororo said again, her rage washing away, leaving her empty inside.
“I ain’t leavin’ ya.”
“You already have.”
“Fuck. ‘Ro, listen, about Viper…”
“Yes, what about Viper?” The woman in question strode towards them, her face grim. “Didn’t forget about me, did you, husband?”
“Viper. Leave!” Wolverine snarled savagely.
“What and miss the show? I think not. Nice hair, Storm.”
Crack! Viper went flying, sprawled out across the ground, her hand flying up to her bloody nose.
Wolverine stood stock still, amazed at the ferocity with which Ororo had just attacked Viper, soaring from across the distance separating them and landing a solid fist to the other woman’s face.
“Bitch!” Viper screeched, pulling her gun from her holster. Immediately Wolverine leapt in front of Ororo, claws extending. A hurricane gale flung him aside, leaving Ororo an open target for Viper, her eyes glowing white.
“Make it count,” Ororo hissed.
“Merde! Stormy!” Gambit came crashing through the underbrush, followed by an anxious looking Jean and Scott. He sent a card flying into Viper’s lap, causing the Hydra to roll away, or be left sporting some fancy scars.
“Storm!” Jean was breathing rapidly. “Come on, sweety, come home.” She placed her hand on Ororo’s arm. “Come on.”
Ororo hesitated. Jean tugged a bit on her hand. “All right.” Storm cast one last look over her shoulder at the scene behind her. Gambit was pointing and laughing at Viper, who was struggling to right herself, tangled in a bird ox bush and Wolverine was slowly rising to his feet, his gaze steady on her. His eyes were dark and determined.
*Not tonight.* Jean sent to him.
*Love ya, Jeannie, but fuck off.*
Sensing his grim determination Jean sent, *Fine, but let me talk to her first.*
“Wolverine, I t’ink your wife could use a hand,” Gambit said, strolling away from the cussing woman, picking up her gun as he went, charging it and melting it down.

Once back inside the Institute Jean lead Storm to the kitchen, shooing the others away mentally, saying, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
“Something hard,” was Ororo‘s response, and Jean laughed. She sent Scott upstairs to get a couple of blankets, knowing she and Ororo would be taking for awhile.
Once they had their drinks and were both wrapped in warm blankets on the couch in the living room Jean said, “I missed you.”
Ororo smiled. “I missed you as well, my sister.”
Jean took a drink, coughing a bit as the scotch burned it’s way down her throat. No use not talking about the elephant in the room, she mused. “He doesn’t love her.” .
Ororo said nothing and for a moment Jean wondered if she’d even heard her. Then, “He married her.”
Jean nodded. “None of us really know why. But it most definitely is not a love match. He can barely stand her.”
“He married her.” Ororo said, repeating that one irrefutable point.
Jean sighed, running one hand along the underside of her head, rustling her flame colored hair. “We could talk about something else. How did you get home?”
Ororo shrugged. “I found a slipstream portal inside a volcano, then I jumped in, and ta-da, here I am.”
“Oh my.” Jean noticed the haunted look in Ororo’s eyes and wondered once again what kind of hell Ororo endured. She leaned closer, touching her fingers to the sides of Ororo’s head, asking, “Do you mind?”
“Do not, Jean, you do not know what it is you ask.”
“Please.” Jean said, not knowing why, but needing to know what it was like for her friend for the past two years.
Ororo closed her eyes. “Not too far in,” she warned.
Jean concentrated, skimming over the surface of Ororo’s mind then finding what she sought. Darkness, fear, screams, rage, and then the imagery appeared, horrific and monstrous, worse than any nightmare she had ever had, and more terrifying than anything she could have imagined. Demonic. Pure Evil. Jean let go with a gasp, turning and retching on to the floor.
“I am sorry,” Ororo said, reaching for her.
Jean shook her head, tears sliding down her face, stomach still rolling. “My God,” she cried. “Oh, my God, Ororo I can’t…I don’t… Ohhh.”
“It is all right, Jean.” Storm stroked her hair.
“Jeannie?” Wolverine stood a few feet away, a beer in his hand, watching them.
Jean looked at Storm with watery eyes, worn out from her brief exploration of Ororo’s memories. Two years of that? How was she sane? But Jean knew the answer to that as well, having picked it up while inside Ororo’s mind. Logan. Thoughts of Logan were all Ororo had had to keep her company in that pit. All that kept her moving forward, never giving up hope that she would one day be reunited with him.
“Talk to him.” She recommended before shakily leaving the room to get a towel.
Ororo stared at Logan and her heart broke. He was staring at her like he was lost and she was the only person who knew the way home. “A walk?” She suggested surprising him.
“A walk would be…” he didn’t know how to finish that. What? Nice? Lovely? Swell? Necessary?
Ororo stood, dropping the blanket from her shoulders. “Shall we.”
Logan set his bottle on the entertainment stand, following her out to the porch. “Let’s walk by the lake,” he said.
Surprising him again, Ororo nodded. “The lake is as good a place as any, I guess.”
They walked for several minutes, their usual comfortable silence strained. “’Ro. I thought you were dead,” he began, voice hesitant.
“So you have mentioned,” she countered.
“Listen.” He gruffed. “I was lost for a long time, darlin’. I had no direction without you. I took several missions outside of the X-Men. Trying to get away, to sort it all out. Hell, I don’t know…Anyway, one of these missions took me back to Madripoor.”
The island of Madripoor was a frequent haunt of Logan’s. An island filled with the most eclectic and socially diverse people one could hope to meet. It was crawling with the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. Ruled by a harsh leader their was often turmoil and unrest. Logan had quite the reputation on Madripoor, as Patch, one of his alias. He was a renowned fighter and the winner of several Bloodsport competitions. He was also joint owner of the Princess Bar.
“Go on.” Ororo said when he didn’t continue.
Wolverine took a deep breath, kicking some loose dirt with his toe. “While I was down there, Sabertooth showed up and attacked the bar to get to me. It was a bad fight, ’Ro. I was still distraught over what he had done ta you. In the end we were both pretty fucked up, but I was a little worse for wear, considering the friends he had brought with him and their arsenal of weapons. I was pretty much done for. But then Viper showed up, and she got me home. In return for rescuing me, Viper asked if I’d marry her. I had to accept ‘Ro, Viper had saved my life. It’s giri at it’s most fundamental.”
Storm had stopped walking, her gaze looking out over the dark waters of the lake. “So you married her out of your Japanese code of honor?”
“Yes.”
“But you do not love her?”
Logan came up behind her and turned her to face him. “No, I do not love her.” He stared into her eyes.
Ororo swallowed. “Was…was the marriage consummated?”
Logan looked away.
“I see.” Storm took a step away from him. Devestated.
“Please, ‘Ro. Don’t walk away from me. From us.”
“Wolverine, you are married. There is very little of ‘us’ to walk away from.”
Suddenly she was in his arms, yanked against him savagely as his mouth claimed hers. A sound of protest formed in her throat, but changed with the feeling of his lips, his familiar, loved scent filling her head and the sound that came out was more like a moan.
“Ah, God, ‘Ro.” He breathed against her lips. His grip lessened, his lips softened and the kiss became loving, tender. “Can you really walk away from this, “ he whispered, his breath fanning her neck, followed by the moist caress of his lips. His pulled her closer, murmuring her name, tongue tantalizing her ear.
Ororo felt herself melting against him, her hands clinging to his shoulders, knees weak. Goddess, how she had dreamed of this. Countless hours, endless days. She was shaking, tears filling her eyes. He kissed the saline trails from her cheeks, kissed her nose, her eyes, her mouth, all the while telling her he loved her. Loved her. Only her. And that’s when she broke away.
“Stop.” She raised trembling fingers to her lips. “I can not do this, Logan.”
At least he was back to Logan and not the impersonal Wolverine he thought as he took a ragged breath.
“You have your code of honor to follow, Logan and I respect that. But I have a code of honor as well, and I can not be with you. You are married.”
“Damn it, ‘Ro. It ain’t even a real marriage.”
Storm veiled her eyes briefly with dark lashes, when she looked up again he was staring into orbs of white. “So long as you are married to that…person, we can not be together.” She removed the ring on her left hand, pressing it into his open palm.
“Don’t.” His voice broke. “I’ll beg if you want me to, ‘Ro. I swear I will.” He dropped to his knees.
Oh, Goddess give her strength. “Do not.” She pulled at him, his willingness to shed his pride for her killing her. “It will not change what is.”
Wolverine rose, his jaw clenched tight, fighting against the tears. “What will you do?“ he asked.
Ororo remained quiet for a long time, then, “I will not be leaving the X-Men. So long as the dream remains the same, then my place is here. I will do as I have always done, Wolverine. I will survive.”


giri= honorable debt, a Japanese custom.

The sun was bright when he opened his eyes, telling him that he had slept far later than he had wanted to. He was amazed that he had slept at all, Ororo’s words ringing in his ears, “As long as you are married…we can not be together.” He groaned, rolling and wiping one hand down his face, breathing deep. Fuck.
“Wolvie! Wolvie!” Shadowcat’s head poked into his door. She was the only member of the household that had talked to him after he brought Viper to the Institute and he had grown even more fond of her for it. “Wake up! What are you doing still asleep when Storm is home! Get up! Why aren’t you with her…oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Wolverine. I am so sorry. How did she find out?” She phased through the door, walking over to him and sitting beside him on the bed.
“She went to my room. Viper was there.”
“Oh. You weren’t…?” Kitty made a disgusted face, sticking her tongue out.
Wolverine growled. “No. Viper and I don’t have that kind of marriage.”
“Thank God! Just the thought of that she-devil,” Kitty shuddered for effect.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Kitty.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay grumpy buns, but I’m going to find Storm. Later.”
Wolverine threw himself back on his bed. “Fuck.” he said aloud.


“Morning, chere.” Gambit blinked down at her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back soothingly. Ororo had slept with him, (if you could call her waking up every ten minutes sleeping) in the new boathouse, not wanting to go back to her loft. Too many memories, he assumed.
Ororo smiled at him, having been awake for awhile, not wanting to move in case she shattered the dream. She was no longer in hell. Well, she was but a completely different type altogether. She wasn’t sure which was worse. “Good morning, Remy.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Well enough.”
“Hmm.” He ruffled her shoulder length shredded hair.
“Not a word.” She warned before he said anything.
“I kinda like it,” he murmured. It suited her, he thought. Pure white snow with jagged edges. “You would be beautiful bald, ‘Roro.”
Ororo kissed him quickly on the mouth. “Charmer.” She walked to the bathroom, yawning as she went. Gambit had lent her one of his t-shirts to wear to bed, and though it covered her torso and upper thighs , as she walked away he could see several long cuts along the backs of her legs. “Mon Dieu.”
“Did you say something, Remy?” Ororo peered over her shoulder.
“I love you, padnat,” he said dead serious.
“I love you too, Remy.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
I’m gonna kill him, thought Remy. Wolverine’s a dead man.
“I must admit, I am anxious to see Charles. I wonder why he has not come to see me.” Ororo’s voice came from the other room, water running as she washed her face.
“No one told you?” Gambit asked, swinging his feet to the floor.
“Told me what?”
“Merde. Da Professor, he moved to England with Psylock and Warren. Dey not with us at da mansion no more, but are part of Excalibur.”
Ororo paused in patting her face dry. “What?”
“Oui. Sorry, chere. I’m sure Jean, she called ‘im first t’ing.”
Ororo nodded mutely, trying not to be disheartened by her mentor’s absence. “I assume Jean and Scott have control of the school?”
“Uh, you’re almost right, chere.”
“Almost?”
“Scott and Emma Frost have control of da school.”
Ororo threw the blue washcloth into the sink with a snort. “Emma frost. The White Queen?”
“Dat’s da one.”
“Perfect.” Ororo slid her eyes shut. Everything had changed. Where was her life? “You know, Gambit. I actually wished that I had fallen into a different dimension, that I had gotten it wrong. That this, this could not be right.”
“Ahh, padnat…” Remy wrapped his arms around her. “Some t’ings have changed, but some be da same.”
“You and Rogue?”
Gambit shook his head. At Ororo’s gasp he smiled. “Not’ing so bad as dat, chere. Rogue and Remy just need some time t’ find our way. We will.”
“I hope so.” Ororo sank to the edge of the tub. “I feel lost,” she said softly.
“I know, Stormy. You and da Wolverine need t’ find yer way too.”
She laughed without humor. “If only.”
“Gambit don’ always like da man, but Wolverine loves you, chere.”
“Loves me so much he married Viper.”
Gambit grimaced. “We thought you were dead, padnat.”
“So sorry to disappoint.”
Gambit jostled her shoulder. “What’s dis, Stormy? Feelin’ sorry for yourself? Where’s my fighter, henh? Where’s da girl who fights against all odds t’ get what she wants?”
“She died.” Her voice was flat and hopeless.
Gambit hated seeing her like this. He stood quickly, pulling her to her feet, whirling her in a circle then dropping her into an exaggerated dip. “Remy?” she laughed.
“Der you are.” His devil eyes met her shining blue ones. For a brief moment she was his Stormy again, eyes sparkling up at him, mouth curved faintly. It didn’t last long, as whatever nightmare she had faced and Wolverine’s perceived betrayal reared their ugly heads in her mind, but for a moment she was back, and Gambit would hold onto that moment with both hands.



Danger Room
Turret

“Where is she, Jeannie?” Wolverine demanded walking into the control turret.
Jean gave him a distracted glance, “What?”
“Ororo. Where is she?”
“She be down dere, Home.” Gambit strolled in behind him, carrying two cups of coffee. “’Ere, Jean.”
“Thanks, Remy.”
“She still goin‘, non?’
“Yeah.”
Wolverine frowned, getting the marked impression that they were ignoring him. He also noticed that the turret was unusually crowded. Iceman, Cyclops, Emma, Jean, Remy and Shadowcat all hovering around, staring out the observation window.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Storm’s gone all Matrix,” Bobby said, barely glancing away from the window.
Wolverine pushed his way to the window, looking down into the danger room. There was Storm, dressed in a black leather uniform, her hair blowing in her self-sustained hurricane. “What’s she fighting?” he asked, not seeing any robots below him.
“Not what, who.” Shadowcat said softly.
“Viper?” Wolverine asked, heart pounding. Viper was an assassin and a dirty fighter, the idea of Storm going against her did not sit well with him.
“I wish,” Kitty muttered. “No Storm’s taking on a much larger challenge.”
“You.” Jean added when Wolverine still looked confused.
Turning back around Wolverine noticed the scenery as one of his training programs.
Behind Storm the DR Wolverine appeared, lunging for her. They slammed into the wall together. She kicked herself free and took evasive action, one palm face down, balancing herself on a table of wind as she ran along the wall.
“That’s new.” Emma murmured.
Reaching the end of her sprint Storm used the wind to push herself off the wall, leaping high, landing behind the Wolverine double. She reached up, snapping his neck with a vicious twist.
“Jesus.” Bobby said, his hand on his throat.
“Ahh, ‘ere we go. Now we see ‘ow good she really is,” Gambit said as the Wolverine double got back up.
“What in the hell is this Jean? She doesn’t need to be doing this!” Wolverine growled.
“I couldn’t agree more, Logan. However, it appears our new Headmaster and Emma need proof that Storm is qualified to be an X-Man.”
Wolverine snarled at Scott. “You arrogant dick.”
“Hey, there’s no need of that, darling,” Emma cooed in false sincerity. “We wouldn’t want to send the poor dear out into the field unprepared.”
“It would be really great if you shut your mouth, Miss Frost,” Kitty said.
“Kitty.” Scott warned.
Down below Storm was holding her own against the Danger Room Wolverine. He swung his claws, whizzing them by her head. Storm leapt into the air, and using the wind she slowed her descent to a slow motion feel, kicking DR Wolverine in the face, sending it across the floor.
“See, totally Matrix.” Bobby said in hushed awe. He had never seen Storm like this, so aggressive.
Storm walked over to the fallen DR Wolverine.
Logan leaned forward, his head pressing against the cool glass of the window.
Storm pulled two curved blades from the sheaths on her thighs. The Wolverine figure shook itself, rising again. Storm wasted no time, flipping over its shoulder, impaling it in the soft tissue between the neck and shoulders. No mercy. Mercy was death.
“Impressive.” Said Emma.
“Damn.” Said Scott.
Kitty sat forward. “Wolverine,” she said softly.
Logan stood frozen, watching the DR version of himself fry as Storm unleashed a few hundred million volts of electricity into the it. It fell from her hands in a smoldering heap, and she raised her eyes to the turret, locking onto him even though the glass should have been mirrored. She smiled.
“A little therapy, non?” Gambit muttered.

Her feet pounded against the ground, her breath coming in even pants. She raced across the uneven terrain behind the estate surefooted, enjoying the burn of her muscles., the feel of the wind in her hair, the smell of the forest all around her. Not nearly as exhilarating as flying, but exciting none the less. She jumped over a fallen tree branch, not losing her stride.
Wolverine watched her silently from the shadows. He watched her muscles bunch and flex, gleaming with a fine sheen of perspiration, watched her bare feet maneuver along the ground flawlessly, watched her hair jostle loose from the pony tail high on her head, several sweat dampened strands clinging to her face, watched her push herself past the point of normal human endurance and then keep pushing. She’d done this every day for the past month, running through the woods. He knew she was unaware of him or she would have stopped long ago, but she hadn’t, she kept running. Running like her life depended on it, and he had the feeling more than likely at some point it had.
She stopped now, hands on her thighs, sweat dripping from her chin. She must be exhausted, he knew. She had been running since dawn and the sun was now directly overhead. He growled when he noticed her take a deep breath and start again. Was she trying to kill herself?
“’Ro.” he growled, dropping from the tree he had been sitting in.
Storm faltered, whipping her head around, eyes narrowing. “Wolverine.”
“Ya gotta stop, darlin’.” He walked towards her slowly.
“How long have you been spying on me?” She crossed her arms, her chest rising and falling with her staggered breathing.
“Long enough ta know yer gonna drop if ya don’t stop.”
Ororo raised one eyebrow. “This,” she indicated the forest, “is relaxing for me, Wolverine. It is nice to be able to run without a swarm of demons breathing down my neck.”
Wolverine leaned against the tree. “That bad?” He had wanted to ask her about it a hundred times, but she had managed to avoid him completely most days and when she couldn’t Gumbo was always with her. Except when she ran.
Ororo gave an indelicate snort. “It was Hell, Wolverine. It does not get much worse than that.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Storm looked over her shoulder towards the lake, her destination. “If you are finished with me, Wolverine, I would like to complete my run.”
“I’m a long way from finished with ya, ‘Ro.”
Storm turned and ran. No demons chasing her this time, just the haunted gaze of the man she loved. She reached the lakes edge in no time, leaping from the grass and flipping high in the air, diving into the cool water.
Ororo dove deep, her hands skimming the bottom before shooting to the surface. She threw her head back, spraying a silver arc of water as she did. She flipped onto her back, eyes closed, floating in the crystalline water, humming.
From the shadows of the forest Wolverine watched her, unwilling to let her out of his sight now that she had spoken to him. Briefly, yes, but she had spoken to him. It was a start.
He could hear her melodic humming and felt his heart hitch. He recognized the tune as an old lullaby her mother had taught her, and one that she had occasionally hummed to him when his nightmares would wake him in the middle of the night. She would wrap her arms around him, cradling him close, saying “Come here, my love, I will keep the nightmares away. Sleep now.” And she would stroke his hair and hum to him until his eyelids drooped and he slept, the nightmares banished by her love.
He knew what that song meant to her, and he knew that she was finally beginning to heal, her heart mending. Without him. Wolverine gave the swimming figure one last lingering look before walking away.

“Why how lovely of you to join us, Storm. I was just telling Viper here how much I wanted to speak with you, and officially welcome you back to the team.”
“I can just imagine, Emma.” Ororo said opening the refrigerator and pulling out a jar of apple juice. She popped the cap off with a vicious twist sending Emma a look that said she wished it was the blonde’s head.
Since her return Storm had noticed how invasive the former White Queen was, putting moves on Scott when Jean wasn’t around, manipulating the students. Under Emma’s guidance the dream had changed. No longer was it about mutant acceptance and living in peace with the humans, it was about mutant preference, protecting mutants, including, at times, those that did not deserve the protection of the X-Men.
“Now, Ororo, I know we’ve had our differences, but I am as much an X-Man as you now. Let’s be friends.”
Ororo turned away from the two former Hellfire Club members. “I would sooner gargle glass than have any type of conversation with you two snakes. And you are no X-Man.”
Viper flicked open a switchblade, chucking it at Storm. As nonchalantly as if she were swatting a fly Ororo turned, and snatched the flipping blade from the air. “Callisto tried that once. I would be happy to demonstrate the fate of such an action, Viper.”
“Ororo. Viper. Play nice,” Emma drawled. She crossed her bare legs, her white skirt riding dangerously high.
Storm tossed the blade with a careless flick of her wrist, the point sinking into the wood of Viper’s chair between her knees. “My name is Storm, Emma. You will address me as such.”
“Is everything all right?” Gambit asked, walking through the kitchen’s swinging doors. His gaze immediately rested on Storm.
“Absolutely, darling. Storm was simply reminding me of her name, lest I forget.” Emma smiled sickeningly sweet.
Gambit glanced over at Storm who was glaring at Emma.
“I could use some air. I think I will go find Jean and see if she will walk with me. You remember her, Emma?” Ororo asked. “Scott’s wife.”
“Not that she deserves him,” Emma said nastily. “No more than you deserve--”
“Enough, Emma,” Gambit snapped.
“Oh, pooh. What is it with you men always having to play white knight to damsels in distress.”
Storm finished her juice, tossing the bottle into the recycling bin. She smiled at Emma. “I can handle myself just fine, Frost. Come play with me any time you like.” With that she strode out of the kitchen, snarling at Viper as she went. It would be a cold day in hell before either of these women got the better of her. Ororo smirked, because she knew how unlikely a cold day in hell actually was.
“Jean!!” Storm voice rang through the halls. “Jean Grey, get your skinny butt down here!”
Jean poked her head around the corner of the hallway wall. “Huh?”
Ororo walked up the steps, saying, “I do not believe this. What has happened to this place? Emma Frost and Viper are X-Men!”
“No. Yes. Sort of.“ Jean shook her head laughing softly. “The team split awhile ago. Charles making Emma Co-leader of the school, if you can believe that, before he left.”
“How horrible for you.” Ororo hugged her friend.
Jean smiled. “Well, not all that horrible.”
Ororo raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“Promise not to go all Momma ‘Ro on me?”
Storm shook her head. “No promises.”
“Pregnant.” She patted her still flat belly.
Ororo sat down. “Oh my!”
Jean nodded. “Weird, I know. Scott’s so different now. He makes me laugh. There was a long period of time when I didn’t laugh, and he helped me through it.” She sat beside Ororo on the step. “I’m actually really happy now... I don’t need to be engrossed in all things X. Scott hates having to work with that little tramp.” Jean smiled, but there was bitterness there.
“What happened,” Ororo asked.
“Scott is and always will be the greatest love of my life. But we went through a phase where we wanted too many different things, and sometimes people just drift apart, not able to find their way back to each other. Love just isn’t enough. Sad but true. It was during a particularly bad rift that Scott and Emma had an affair.”
“Scott slept with Emma?” Ororo was incredulous.
“More of a mind-fuck, but yeah.” Jean shrugged.
Ororo swore her jaw hit the floor.
“I know.” Jean said shaking her head. “But we worked through it and are stronger for it.”
“I can not believe this is the first I have heard of this.”
“You have had other things on your mind, Ororo.” Jean said.
Ororo looked away guiltily.
“Oh, hey, don’t do that. You are not responsible for everyone else’s problems, Storm. You and Logan have your own situation to deal with.”
“Not much to deal with. He is married. Married. Married. Married.”
Jean smiled. “That helping?“
“No.” Ororo laughed a bit.
“Well, if it is any consolation he can’t stand Viper. Not to mention he is still hopelessly in love with you.”
Ororo closed her eyes. “I still can not believe he married her.”
“Storm, he honestly believed you were dead.”
“How could he not feel me?” Storm sat forward her elbows on her knees, head cradled in her hands, staring at her feet. “I felt him, every day.”
Jean grimaced. “You can blame the Professor and me for that.”
Ororo looked at Jean confused. “Why?”
“Logan became unwell about three weeks after you die-left. It got to the point we feared for his life. The only way we could help him was to subtly nudge him into accepting you were gone.”
Storm inhaled sharply. She was not angry at her friend or Xavier, certain they had done what they felt was necessary to save Logan. What bothered her was that she had refused to see his pain until now, solely absorbed in her own. He had told her his reasons for marrying Viper, he had proclaimed her as his one true love, why was she wasting time on old hurt when they could be finding their way back to each other?
Jean smiled encouragingly, having sensed Ororo’s thoughts. “Go. He’s in the garage.”


“Busy?”
Logan jerked upright, his head cracking against the hood of the Mustang he was tinkering with.
“Sorry.” Ororo smiled slightly walking over to him.
Logan wiped his hands on a rag in his pocket, his chest muscles flexing beneath the white cotton of his shirt. “Uh, no. I always got time fer ya, Storm.”
She took a step closer. “’Ro.” She placed her hand over his thundering heart. “My name is ‘Ro.”
Logan’s throat worked reflexively, his breathing labored. “Ro.” He said, voice husky.
“Better.” she smiled.
Logan didn’t dare move. He closed his eyes whispering, “Don’t wake up, Don’t wake up…”
Ororo’s warm laughter tickled his ear as she leaned into him. “You are not sleeping, my love.”
Logan’s eyes flew open. Without a word he pulled her to him, one arm wrapped around her back, his other hand cradling her face. “’Ro.” He lowered his head, waiting for her to pull away, but instead her arms wrapped around his neck, her body pressing closer to his.
“I love you, Logan.” Ororo breathed against his warm lips.
There it goes again, he thought as his heart stopped. “I love ya, darlin’. So much.”
Sapphire eyes sparkled up at him. “Show me.”

Down in the boat house Rogue lay across a newly returned Gambits lap, watching an old home movie of the X-Men early days, eating freshly microwaved popcorn, when a clap of thunder shook the ground. She sat up, looking out the window, worry on her face. “Should we go check?”
Remy watched the rain begin to fall and smiled. “Naw. Stormy be just fine, chere. Trust me.” He had seen Logan carrying Ororo from the garage on his walk back to the boathouse.

The Loft

Logan lowered Ororo to the bed gently, his eyes never leaving hers. She smiled up at him with tenderness and love. “Logan, my night sky.”
He settled himself next to her, not wanting to rush, holding her to him like she was the most fragile thing in the world. “Not that I’m one ta look a gift horse in the mouth, but why the change of heart?”
Ororo smiled tenderly. “That, my love, has never changed.” Was all she answered, pulling his head down to hers for a lingering kiss.
He parted her lips with his tongue, tasting her sweet essence. He rolled towards her, smearing grease along the white fabric of her bed. “Damn.”

She open lazy eyes. “What?”
“I’m making a mess of yer bed.”
Ororo shrugged. “That does not matter.”
Logan groaned. Yes it did matter. He wanted it to be perfect for her. “Wait right here,” he said, getting up. “Don’t move!” He backed out of her room, watching her carefully, his head peeking back around the corner a fraction of a second later, double checking.
Ororo laughed. “Go. Hurry.” When he was out of sight she sighed happily. This was right, to hell with -- “Viper!” Ororo sat up, the other woman on her balcony.
“Goodnight, Storm.”
Ororo barely registered the feeling of the dart as it entered her flesh, her eyes drifting shut. “Log…”
“Got her.” Viper said into her vest.

Madripoor


“Wolverine, you sure dis is where dey be?” Gambit wiped a white cloth across his forehead, cursing in a mixture of French and English about the sweltering heat. His auburn hair curled against and clung to his damp scalp, darkening to muddy brown.
Wolverine glowered at him. “This is where Viper would go. She wants me here.” Twelve days had passed since Logan had walked back into the empty loft, found Ororo missing and Viper gone. His heart had damn near pounded out of his chest, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out what had transpired. Wolverine had found a tranquilizer dart on the floor beside the bed, sniffing it he had picked up Viper‘s scent. His fury had been damn near uncontrollable, but he had held himself in check, knowing he would need a clear head to find ‘Ro. He knew Viper was long gone and he had gone to Emma.
“Find them!” he had snarled.
Emma had used Cerebra but was unable to locate either Viper or Storm. Wolverine would have lost it right then and there had it not been for Jean reminding him that Ororo had a unique and difficult psychic signature to pick up, even for the Professor.
When asked what he was going to do, he told Jean that he was going to find her, leaving that very day. He had connections and determination, he would find them, and heaven help Viper when he did.
Now, here he and Gumbo sat, in the Princess Bar, waiting for his informant to return from the arena. The Bloodsport tournament had begun and Logan knew that’s where anybody who was anybody would be.
“Here.” Rogue joined them at the table, setting a fresh beer in front of both men. She had her bi-colored hair pulled under a red kerchief, and despite the heat she was wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt.
Wolverine was thankful she had accompanied them, knowing there was only so much Cajun charm he could handle at a time.
“Merci, chere. Why does she want you ‘ere?” Gambit turned back to Wolverine and took a drink of his beer.
“Because the only reason Viper wanted ta marry me was to seize control of Madripoor. She gambled on my respectability here as Patch and she lucked out. She overthrew and now is ruler of this little island paradise. But ta stay ruler she needs ta stay married ta me.”
“So dat’s why ya married her? To rule an island? Didn‘ figure you for da power hungry type, homme.”
Wolverine growled. “I married her because she asked. She saved my life, I owed her.”
Rogue curled her nose. “How convenient.”
Wolverine grunted. He had recently been thinking the same thing. It had been damn convenient for Viper to get an assignment on Madripoor and save his ass from Sabertooth and his small army of ass-kicking friends. Too damn convenient.
“But why take Stormy?”
“Bait.” Wolverine watched the people passing the window with his one available eye, the other concealed by the dark patch that was his namesake. “She knows I want a divorce. I demanded one the night ‘Ro came home. She can’t be ruler of Madripoor if she’s divorced from me, but she can still be ruler if she’s widowed.”
Rogue gasped. “You think she’s leading yah here tah kill yah.”
“She’ll try.” Wolverine confirmed. He caught sight of his informant racing across the street.
Mac was a robust red-haired Irish man with friendly eyes and warm smile, but Wolverine knew that beneath that cuddly looking exterior Mac was a professional, a master at several forms of street fighting and weaponry.
“Patch!” The husky mustached man approached them, waving a flyer in the air.
“Mac.” Wolverine grunted in greeting. “Whadya find?”
Mac heaved a hefty breath, sweat pooling in the center of his chest. “Viper’s here.” Gambit handed the man a beer and he took it thankfully.
“Yes.” Wolverine had figured that much on his own.
“She‘s holed up in one of the Capital’s secured buildings. Security is tight, the tightest I’ve ever seen.“
“She ain’t stupid.“
“There was another woman you was looking for?” Mac asked.
“Yeah, ya can’t miss her, she’s tall with white hair--”
“Beautiful beyond all reason?” Mac added.
Wolverine paused. “Yeah.”
Mac laid the pamphlet on the table. “You ain’t gonna believe this,” he warned.
A picture of Storm, covered a majority of the flyer. The caption beneath reading: This Year’s Grand Prize!! Win Bloodsport, Take Her Home!
“Viper,” Wolverine growled.
“Mon Dieu,” Said Gambit.
“Well, at least we know she’s alive,” said Rogue.
“That ain’t it,” Mac said, watching Wolverine warily.
Wolverine was still staring at the picture, his thumb absently running along the edge of the paper. “What else?”
“She’s fighting too.”
“Viper?”
“No, no, your lady friend. She’s in the tournament.”
Wolverine ground his teeth. “Take me in.”
Mac shook his head. “Wish I could, old friend, but Viper has put the arena under lockdown. No one in or out while the tournament’s in progress.”
Gambit chuckled. “You t’ink dat’s gonna stop ‘im?”
Mac grinned. “No, but it will make entry that much more difficult.” He looked at Wolverine. “From what I hear, Patch, your friend,” he gestured to the flyer, “is holding her own.”
“She would.” Wolverine nodded. He’d trained her. He knew how good Storm was, but he also knew the other competitors were good, excellent even. How long until someone took her out, or worse, won her.
As if sensing his thoughts Gambit said, “She’s tougher den before, Patch. What she faced for two years,” Gambit shuddered a bit. Ororo had shared a few bits and pieces of her time in Hell with him. “Dis be a walk in da park.”


“STORM! STORM! STORM!”
They were chanting her name again. Viper threw the ledger she had been reading across the room. From the arena voices rose in a rousing cheer as Storm defeated yet another opponent. Damn her!
“Viper?” A knock sounded on her door.
“Enter.”
A tall woman with black hair and wearing a pinstriped business suit entered, briefcase in her hand. “He’s here.”
Viper sneered. She had wondered how long it would take him to track her down. She had left enough false leads and dead end trails to keep most people busy for a lifetime, but not Wolverine. He was relentless. Especially where the white haired witch was concerned. Viper scowled. He had married her, but made it clear that theirs was not a real marriage. It could’ve been, she fumed. If he would’ve just let go of his torch for Storm. Even before her return Wolverine pined for her hopelessly, spending time with that damn statue, talking to it like it would somehow answer him.
Viper had tried to make him see that they could do very well together, but he was reluctant to even try. Before they shared a room she had snuck into his and crawled into bed with him. He had pulled her close, kissing her hungrily, moving on her like a man possessed and Viper had reveled in the feel, and then he had growled in her ear, “’Ro.” When she had corrected him he had looked down at her in disgust and she knew that he had been dreaming. Wolverine had immediately left, and within moments she had heard the shower running. When he returned he told her never to touch him again, but she could see the haunted look on his face and she knew he believed he had somehow betrayed his memory of Storm. It was small consolation, but Viper was pleased none the less. How she hated that woman. After that Wolverine insisted she sleep in his room so that he would never be caught off guard again. She slept on the bed and he slept on the floor.
Looking at the dark haired woman across from her, Viper asked, “How long has he been in Madripoor?”
“Two days, tops.”
“Long enough.” Viper checked the gun at her hip. “He’ll be coming for her. Move her.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? If Storm does not battle you may have a riot on your hands. They love her,” the other woman paused, listening to the chants.
Viper glared. “Whose bright idea was it to put her in the damn tournament anyways, Charlotte?”
“That would be yours.” Charlotte answered. “I believe you said she wouldn’t last two seconds.” Viper swore under her breath. She had thought for sure Storm would be defeated or killed, either fine with her. When it became clear that she would not go down so easily Viper devised a plan to make the contest that much more interesting. Make the favorite fighter the prize. It had been brilliant. The contestants fought harder, longer wanting the chance to win Storm, the only female fighter in the tourney.
Rising from behind her mahogany desk Viper walked to her bullet proof windows. She opened the blinds and immediately wished she hadn’t. Wolverine was on the opposite side of the street. He was leaning against a lamp post, huffing one of his cigars. He may as well be wearing a sign that said ‘Come Get Me’. He looked really pissed.
“Viper?”
“No, you’re right. She stays in the tournament.” A cruel smile twisted her face.
“See that Patch gets an invitation to tomorrows match up. He won’t want to miss it.”


The two inch wide, six inch long slat of the gray metal door opened and a brown tray was pushed through. “Dinner.”
Ororo rose from her cot. She had been fiddling with the Genoshan collar around her neck, it being a constant irritation. She knew if she tried to remove it without the code it would explode, taking her head off.
Ororo walked over to the door and removed the tray from the guard’s hands. “What’s the gourmet special tonight?”
The guard chuckled. “Beans and rice.”
Ororo grimaced.
“I made sure you got a good batch. Nice fight today.” The guard said sincerely.
“Thanks, Dale. How are the children?” Ororo placed the tray on the floor, peeking up at the young guard through the slat.
“Good.” The guard shifted uncomfortably. He hated keeping her prisoner, but he had two small children to feed and this job paid well. Sensing his reluctance in keeping her caged, Ororo had begun to befriend the young man. She had told him that she did not blame him for her current predicament and he seemed to relax a bit after that, but he still hated to see her locked up with the criminals.
Ororo nodded, sitting cross legged beside her tray. “You should make your rounds, Dale.”
“Good night.” The slat slid shut.
Ororo looked at the pile of food, if you could call it that, suspiciously. She needed to eat, to keep her strength up for the fights, and she had eaten much, much worse while trapped with the Daemonites, but she always wondered when Viper would grow impatient and poison her. Deciding to risk it, Ororo began to spoon small mouthfuls of food from the tray. Once finished she spent the remainder of the evening alternating between thinking about Logan and how much she loved him and fantasizing about mounting Viper’s head on a stick.


“Patch, open up!” Mac’s booming voice called, his beefy fist pounded the motel room door.
Wolverine yanked open the door. “What?”
“This is for you.” Mac handed him a sealed envelope. “I gotta get back to town, but I wanted to make sure you got this. It was nailed to the door of the Princess. Call me if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Mac.” Wolverine closed the door, staring at the envelope in his hands guardedly.
“What is it?” Rogue asked. She was seated at the small kitchen table provided in their room.
“Smells like Viper,” Wolverine said.
“Prob’bly anthrax,” Gambit mumbled.
-Snikt- One claw extended, slicing open the top of the envelope.
“Der are just a million uses for dem t’ings, non?”
“Gambit,” Rogue chided, but not without some humor in her voice.
Wolverine read the invitation allowed. “Come see your precious Weather Witch in the fight of a lifetime. Trust me, you don’t want to miss it. Your loving wife, Viper.”
Gambit knocked over the tower of cards he had been building with an angry swipe of his hand. “Dat bitch.” He pointed at Wolverine. “I blame you fer dis. You married her.”
“Don’t go pointing fingers, Gumbo. Yer apt ta lose ‘em.”
“So what do we do now?” Rogue asked.
“We accept.” Wolverine tossed the invitation onto the small kitchen table.


Morning

“So glad you could join us, Patch. And look, you brought guests, how lovely.” Viper greeted as the three X-Men walked through the doors of her balcony box, their hands clamped in full coverage cuffs up to their elbows, and inhibitor collars clamped around their necks, several guns pointed at them. “Miss me, Husband?”
Wolverine snarled. “Yer a disease.”
Viper smirked. “Have a seat. The fight should start shortly. I must admit, I was surprised by your quick acceptance of my invitation. I thought it would take more persuasion.”
“Stop this, Viper.” Wolverine warned. “You won’t like the consequences.”
“But I think I will.”
“You‘re a snake,” Rogue said to Viper.
“Thank you.” Viper smiled. “Now sit!”
Viper’s men nudged them in the back with their weapons.
“Watch it, Bub,” Wolverine growled.
Once the three of them were seated Viper waved her troops back. “I would offer you something to drink, but seeing as how you can’t use your hands…”
“Where is she?” Wolverine demanded, ignoring her attempts to rile him.
“Don’t you think about anything besides her?” Viper snapped.
“No.”
A rousing cheer interrupted whatever Viper was going to say next and Logan leaned forward watching as the far gates of the arena opened. He heard Gambit’s quick intake of breath and Rogue’s as well. He watched with a swelling of pride as Storm strode forward, chin held high. She was clad in standard issue prison garb, but she had never looked more beautiful as far as Logan was concerned. She stopped in the center of the arena.
“You can see, but I would rather you not be seen just yet,” Viper said. “Stay put.” She left the room and walked out onto the open upper circle.
“Storm, you should be much honored today as the ruler of Madripoor has come herself to see you fight,” the ring announcer said over the crowd.
Storm didn’t respond.
Viper stood, smiling down at Storm. “Kneel and we shall begin.”
This time Storm did respond. She laughed.
“Kneel!” Viper hissed. Storm stood stoic. The crowd cheered in approval. “We’ll see how smug you are when you meet your opponent.” Viper said.
The gates behind Storm began to rise and she turned. The man walking towards her grinned with unadulterated joy, his sharp teeth fully revealed.
Inside Viper‘s balcony box Wolverine felt his blood turn to ice. “Sabertooth.”

Madripoor
Arena

“STOP THIS!!” Wolverine exploded.
Viper smiled. He was really in a huff, she thought, mildly amused.
“VIPER!” Wolverine charged towards her, snarling despite his cuffs and collar. Three bodyguards stepped in front of him, weapons drawn. “Do not fuck with me on this! I will kill ya!”
Viper’s smile faltered a little. “If you kill me, then she dies. The ruler of Madripoor will be avenged, have no doubts. Thanks to you I am a very powerful woman, Patch.” She used his alias emphatically. “You should be proud of your wife.”
Wolverine bared his teeth. Power. It was always about some idiot’s desire for power. He glared at her. “It was never a real marriage, Viper.”
“It could have been,” Viper challenged.
“No. It couldna.”
“We were together once,” she said angrily.
Wolverine cringed at the memory.
***
He had been having a particularly vivid dream about ‘Ro when it had happened. In his dream Storm was arching beneath him, her lips parted, whispering his name. “Logan, mmmm, Logan.” He could feel her legs close around his hips, his thrusts becoming aggressive. “Oh, yes,” she had cried. “Yes!” Wolverine surged forward, holding her to him.
“Ahhh, Logan. Ohhhhh.” She was straddling him now. When had he rolled? His mind went blank again as she moved up and down on his shaft.
“Fuck, ‘Ro,” he groaned, close to coming.
“Viper, Lover. It’s Viper.”
Wolverine’s eyes had shot open and he had thrown her from him. He had hated her then, for tainting his memory of ‘Ro. He hated her still. He had honored his code of Giri, now his debt was paid, time for Viper to go.
***

In the balcony room Wolverine lunged at Viper despite the armed guards. She backed up, pulling her gun, pointing it at Gambit’s skull. “How many of your friends do you want to see die today?”
Gambit sneered up at her, “Galette.”
Wolverine took a placating step back. “Stop the fight, Viper. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Viper raised her eyebrow. “Whatever I want?”
“Yes.”
“What I want is for that smug bitch to be knocked down a peg or two! Now sit down and watch.” She cocked the hammer on her weapon for emphasis.
Down below in the arena Storm watched as Sabertooth approached, her fists clenching at her sides.
“Hello, baby doll.”
“Before you ask, the answer is no, Creed. I did not miss you.” Ororo said dryly.
He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Feisty today, aintchya.”
“No more so than usual.”
Sabertooth licked his lips. “I wanna taste ya again, doll. You were soooo good.”
Before Storm had chance to respond, and she doubted she would have anyway, the announcer came over the speakers and their was surprise in his voice as he stated for the crowd, “This will be a no weapon match up. No holds barred.”
On the balcony Wolverine bellowed in rage, and fear for Ororo.
Storm’s head snapped up. “Logan?”
Sabertooth caught her arm, flinging her across the arena. “Pay attention, doll.”
Storm flipped, legs spread, one hand down, dragging herself to a stop. She peered at Sabertooth through her hair. He roared at her, mouth open wide, saliva spraying from his lips. She smiled. “My, Creed, you do put on a good show.” With that she charged him, leaping at the last second, her legs catching him around the neck. Using her momentum Ororo flung herself towards the ground, flipping Sabertooth as she did.
The crowd went absolutely nuts, screaming and cheering.
“Grow a set, didjya?” Sabertooth snarled rising to his feet.
“Jealous, Creed? Afraid mine are bigger than yours?”
Sabertooth gawked. Who the hell was this? Not the same woman he battled before, for sure. He pounced, large hands outstretched to grab her shoulders. She dropped to the ground rolling beneath him and coming up on her feet behind him. She planted one booted foot on his ass and shoved, sending him toppling forward.
“Hold still!” he shouted from the ground.
Storm looked at him incredulously. She didn’t respond, instead circling him, looking for an opening. He rolled to get up and she closed in, slamming her heel onto his ribs. He bellowed.
“Mmm, feels good, don’t it baby,” she taunted.
Sabertooth reached out, flaying her leg with his claws. Ororo’s breath hissed between her teeth but she didn’t cry out.
“C’mon, baby, cry fer me,” he growled. “Like ya do in my dreams.”
“Keep dreaming,” she snapped, hitting him hard in the face with two quick jabs, then dancing back to avoid his retaliation.
Sabertooth grinned, blood dripping into his mouth from his busted nose. The bleeding didn’t last long and Storm frowned. Sabertooth’s grin broadened. He stroked his hand across his neck. “No collar,” he snarled. His foot lashed out, connecting with her shoulder, knocking her back.
Creed leapt high, landing directly in front of Storm, laughing maliciously. “You on the other hand are powerless.”
“Why is it everyone assumes the only power I have is mutant based,” Storm said, her eyes filling with inky black oil, her voice lowering several octaves. She focused, concentrating on building energy in her hand, delivering it into Sabertooth’s midsection as she struck, sending him soaring against the far wall of the arena, dislodging a number of stones onto Sabertooth’s still form. The crowd roared so loud the stadium trembled.
Ororo dropped to her knees, the spell taking a lot out of her. She was surprised she had actually done it. Much like the Phoenix lying dormant in Jean, Ororo had felt her powers as the Sat-ne a’nekh lying dormant within her since she opened and sealed the portal to Hell. It was as though they had only manifested to prevent the Daemonites from victory and returned to slumber once that was accomplished. She doubted she’d be able to pull off another spell. She closed her eyes. If she was lucky she would never have to draw on those powers ever again. She rose to her feet, the crowd chanting her name.
“What in the hell was that?” Viper demanded from the balcony.
“That was the Daughter of Light at her finest,” Wolverine said, pride evident in his voice.
Rogue laughed. “That’s right, yah didn’t know, did yah Viper? Our Storm is an ancient power, something yah can never be, possessing things yah can never have.” She looked pointedly at Wolverine.
Viper opened her mouth but was cut off by a throaty yell.
“VIPER!” Ororo stood in the center of the arena, glaring daggers at the balcony. “GET OUT HERE YOU COWARD!”
Viper strolled onto the terrace. “Well, done, Storm. Who knew you were such a trooper.” She applauded mockingly.
“I want you, Viper,” Storm said in a snarl that rivaled Wolverine’s.
“I’m afraid I am not entered in the tournament,” Viper drawled.
“Not for the tournament, Viper. For Patch.”
Wolverine jerked, had he heard that right?
Viper sneered. “No. My husband is not a trophy to be won.”
“Then I’ll take your true heart’s desire.” Storm said, raising her voice so that it carried over the now silent stadium. “I am calling you out, Viper. In Bloodsport tradition, a duel to the end. I challenge you for the rule of Madripoor.”
The crowd waited anxiously, no one moving.
Viper tensed. “I refuse.”
Instant booing and yelling broke out among the watchers. Viper held up her hand. “Only tournament champion can challenge rule of Madripoor, Storm. And since the tournament is days from being finished, I must regretfully decline the challenge. Now, back to your cell,” she ordered.
The gates opened and three prison guards entered the arena.
Wolverine bared his teeth, slamming his cuffed hands into the bodyguard to his right, and kicking the one on his left, both going down hard. Gambit leaned back, flipping over the back of his chair, spin kicking another of Viper’s hired hands.
Wolverine raised his arms to strike again when Viper fired her gun into the air. She smiled maliciously. “For every harm you do me or my men, I will have returned on Storm ten-fold.”
Wolverine flinched. Viper would never have believed it if she hadn’t seen it, but the man was scared. “Sit back,” she commanded.
Wolverine didn’t comply. Viper pressed the comm link on her vest. “Dale.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Shoot Storm.”
“NO!!” Wolverine stepped back, sinking into his chair. Gambit and Rogue had their arms pulled behind their backs at painful angles by several of Viper’s thugs.
“Good boy. Now be very still.” Viper leaned close, touching the collar around his neck. “No healing factor now, little big man. Lucky me. I can’t rule if you divorce me, but…” She pulled a long blade from its sheath on her thigh. “I can rule as a widower.” She plunged the blade into Wolverine’s throat.
Gambit and Rogue strained against the men holding them.
Wolverine growled in pain.
Viper kissed Wolverine full on the lips her tongue slipping past and delving into his blood filled mouth. “Poison lipstick, remember, Wolverine? I doubt your death will be quick or painless. Too bad.” His body began to convulse. “Ohhh, I bet that hurts, doesn it? It’s a particularly lethal poison, and I doubt even with your healing factor you’d be able to counteract all of it.”
“Viper…” Wolverine’s muscles trembled as the toxin spread through his system.
“Fuck you! Fuck You, you cow!!” Rogue screamed. “Logan!! Logan!!”
Viper flicked her off, walking towards the door. “Have fun with them, boys,“ she said to her men. “Kill Storm.” Viper added into her comm link. Static. “Dale? Do you copy? Kill her!” Gun shots could be heard from outside.
Wolverine bellowed in rage, uncaring of the pain lancing through his body, wanting to attack.
Without warning, the bulky unconscious body of Sabertooth tumbled from the air, smashing through the wall, landing with a thud at Viper’s feet.
Startled Viper looked up and found herself staring into the glowing eyes of a very angry Goddess. Ororo was twirling her collar around her index finger. “They have not made a lock that I can not pick,” she said. In truth it had been Dale who had released her, but she didn’t want Viper to take her wrath out on the young man or his family.
“Storm!” Viper recovered quickly, lashing out, uncoiling a whip, sending it whistling through the air, catching Storm across the cheek, drawing a scarlet line down her face.
Storm tilted her head, touching the smear. She licked her fingertips. Thunder boomed overhead, eliciting terrified screams from the people in the stadium seats. Streaks of lightening flashed and crackled across the sky, a cauldron of boiling clouds forming over the arena.
Gambit grinned his devil-may-care grin. His Stormy was very, very pissed.
“Tell me, Viper,” Storm was saying, “Do you fly?”
Less than a second later Viper was lifted from where she stood and thrown off the balcony across the arena.
Ororo landed beside Wolverine. “Easy, Logan.” She said as he tried to rise. “I am here, love.”
She stood, glaring white fire at the men holding Gambit and Rogue. “Drop your weapons and take your hands off them. If you do so I may let you live to go home to your families.” Immediately Gambit and Rogue were released, the men scrambling from the room. Within moments they too were free of collars and cuffs.
“’Ro?” Wolverine blinked several times. The poison was effecting his mind, he thought.
“Easy,” she soothed. She punched in the digital code Dale had given her, the collar around Wolverine’s neck falling away.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Storm chided, lifting Wolverine’s head into her lap. He had begun healing, but was now unconscious, body still racked with tremors.
Ororo laid Wolverine’s head gently to the ground. “Take care of him, Remy. I have some unfinished business.” She reached down, picking up one of the guns left behind buy the retreating thugs. She then jumped from the balcony, landing in the arena, the seats now empty as the crowd had run from the terrifying storm swirling overhead, the air crackling all around them.
Storm stalked towards the woman attempting to rise from the ground. “Tell me, Viper, is that vest you’re wearing made out of Kevlar?” Ororo asked, voice deadly soft, checking the clip and slamming it back into the gun. She leveled the barrel at Viper.
“Oh, Please. We both know you aren’t going to shoot me, Storm. You swore an oath not to take life. You can’t kill me.”
Ororo pulled the trigger.
Viper rocked back against the wall, blood seeping through her fingers as she clutched the wound in her shoulder. “No, I will not kill you.“ Storm confirmed. She aimed again, and fired, this time the bullet hitting Viper in the thigh. “But you would be amazed at what you can live through.” She fired again, then twice more, mindless in her fury. This woman had taken Wolverine and used him for her own selfish ends, then tried to kill him after he had honored his code of giri and helped her. No one, absolutely no one hurt Logan! She pictured him lying on the floor, his neck a gaping wound, body convulsing as the poison seeped through his system. BITCH!! Another shot.
“’Ro! ‘Ro!” Logan reached her side, nearly fully healed, as she leveled the gun once more at Viper’s panting and bloodied body. She didn’t seem to hear him. He touched her arm gently and she turned startled, tear filled eyes to him. “No, darlin’. This ain’t you,” he said gently, lowering her arm, taking the gun from her stiff fingers. “This ain’t you, baby.” Ororo blinked at him, tears slipping down her face. “Logan.”
“Right here, ‘Ro. Right here.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.
Ororo looked at Viper over his shoulder, who was nearly unconscious now, both amazed and shocked by what she had done. “She will need medical attention,” Ororo said softly.
Wolverine stepped back, looking at Viper. “On one condition. Viper,” he knelt beside her. “About that divorce?”
“D-d-done.” Her voice was faint, but audible.
Logan turned back to Ororo. “Ready to go home?”
She stepped into his arms, “I am already there.”

Xavier Institute
Westchester New York


“Thought I’d find ya here.”
Ororo turned her head, greeting Logan with a warm smile. “I wanted to clear my head.” She returned her gaze to the crystalline waters of the lake behind the Institute that had become a mutual favorite spot for the two X-Men.
Ororo, Logan, Remy and Rogue had returned from Madripoor several hours ago, all of them exhausted and drained. The flight home had been filled with more silence than conversation, but it had been companionable. Ororo had taken the helm with Gambit as co-pilot, but every so often she would feel Logan’s eyes on her and she would turn giving him a reassuring smile.
Logan was staring at her now, transfixed not only by her unearthly beauty, but also by the new confidence she carried. She had surprised him back at the arena, shooting Viper. It was something he wouldn’t have expected of her, though he should have, considering he was the one who taught her how to use firearms. She had been resistant at first, complaining that she had her powers and no need of weaponry. He had told her it would take an enemy by surprise, because it would not be expected from her, and he had been right. Viper was completely caught by surprise, so was he.
“How are you feeling?” Logan asked, shifting his weight so that he leaned a bit closer to her, then shifted back again.
The movement did not go unnoticed by Ororo. Her lips twitched and her brow furrowed at the same time. It was endearing the way he was uncertain, but it was also very wrong. Logan was the most self assured man she knew. They had always known where they stood with each other, always been completely open, but now a wall built from their two years of separation and his marriage to Viper, and what that had nearly cost, stood between them.
“I feel…like a swim.” Ororo began unbuttoning her gray top, moving towards the water.
Logan swallowed hard as the shirt floated to the ground, revealing her bare back as she walked away from him. He heard her mutter something about “…offensive scraps of cloth…” but the rushing of blood in his ears drowned out the rest of her statement as she slid her long skirt from her hips, completely nude now. She cast him a come-hither look over her shoulder and Logan said a silent thank you to whatever maker had sent him this angel. Striding purposefully after her Logan ripped his flannel shirt from his body, followed quickly by his jeans and boots.
Ororo submerged herself in the cool, clear water, emerging a few feet away, turning to look at him. Her breath caught in her throat. Goddess, but he was the perfect male specimen, all raw, untamed power, and sexuality. He walked slowly into the water and she smiled inside, knowing how very much he hated to swim. Or sink, as was often the case with him. Several hundred pounds of Adamantium made it near impossible to swim, or float or anything else but sink.
Eyes dark with longing Logan stopped a few feet from her. “C’mere.” he growled.
Ororo shook her head, giving him an impish grin. “You come here.”
There was only a moments hesitation and then with a growl Logan lunged forward, covering the distance between them, catching her wrists pulling her against him, their bare, wet flesh coming together. Skin to skin, heart to heart. “Tell me what ya want, darlin’.”
Ororo didn’t hesitate. “You. Only you. Always you.”
Logan crushed her mouth to his, weaving his fingers through the layers of Ororo‘s wet hair, holding her to him, kissing her slowly, deeply. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue, sending chills along her skin. She shivered, pressing herself closer. Logan groaned, sliding his tongue into her mouth, teasing, stroking and cajoling. He caressed her shoulders, her arms, sliding his hands along her sleek torso, cupping her breast, the rough pads of his thumbs teasing her nipples, making her groan.
“Logan.” She breathed, arching against him, more exotic and alluring than any dream he’d ever had.
“I need ya, darlin’.” He groaned, rubbing himself against her so that she would know just what her touch did to him. He trailed his lips across her chin, along her neck, sniffing her flesh as he went, lapping her damp skin with his tongue, tasting the water, and the salt of her skin. She sighed, tangling her fingers in his ebony locks, holding him to her. He nipped her tender flesh and she moaned.
Ororo leaned back, semi-floating in the water, held up by one of Logan’s hands spread in the center of her back as he trailed hot, fevered kisses along the graceful column of her neck, down over her collar bone, nibbling her aching flesh as he went, until at last him mouth fastened on the sensitive tip of one ample breast, laving the hard pebbled nipple with his tongue, suckling gently.
Logan growled low and deep as Ororo moaned in his arms, One of her long, shapely legs raising and curling around his hips, pulling him closer, his cock twitching against the snowy thatch of curls at the juncture of her thighs. “’Ro. Uhn, God, ‘Ro.” He moved his hips and she cried out with want.
“I need…” she panted.
“What, baby,” he rumbled. “what do you need.” He moved against her again and she bit her lip.
“You…Logan…” Without warning Ororo pressed her hands on his shoulders, lifting herself out of the water, cool droplets falling from her onto him, as she slid herself along his body, wrapping her legs around his waist, settling herself onto him with excruciating slowness. Logan felt his toes curl as he slowly penetrated her damp, hot and unbearably tight channel.
On a groan he pulled her face down to his, raising his hips to meet her, impaling her. Ororo opened her mouth and Logan swallowed her cry of surprised pleasure in his mouth, capturing her lips in a wet kiss. She met his tongue and thrust eagerly, moving against him, making them both moan. They were still for several moments, adjusting to the feel of each other again.
Logan ran his hands along her back, cradling her hips as he spread his legs, bracing himself in the water, pulling her down to meet his upward push. Ororo’s head fell back, her eyes closed in rapture. “Logan…” He lifted her again, plunging home a fraction of a second later, relishing the way her body clenched around his and her fevered cries.
“Say it, ‘Ro. I need ta hear ya say it.” He ground his hips against her and she whimpered, biting her lip.
She opened sapphire eyes, staring into his dark depths and smiled with infinite tenderness and understanding. “I love you, Mountain Man.”
“God, I love ya, baby. Oh, how I love ya.” He was growling furiously now, holding her to him, moving in and out of her, unashamed, knowing she understood. His strokes became more aggressive and Ororo clung to him, her finger nails digging into the muscle on his shoulders.
“Goddess, Logan.” She buried her face in his neck but her lifted her face, cradling her chin, kissing her softly. “I missed you so,” she whispered.
Logan felt his throat tighten. He kissed her slowly, parting her lips, murmuring into her mouth how much he loved her, would always love her.
Ororo tensed, biting her already raw lower lip, her body trembling as she approached orgasm.
Logan ran one finger over her lip, releasing it from its pearly prison. He shook his head, a look of fierce determination and lust on his face. “I wanna hear ya come, baby. I wanna see yer face, yer beautiful face.” he surged up, moving his hands to her hips, holding her to him, filling her to the brim. She sobbed in pleasure. “That’s it, ‘Ro. Let go. Feel me.” He withdrew almost completely, then plunged to the hilt. She bit her lip. “No. I wanna hear ya. Say my name,” he demanded, thrusting again and again.
“L-logannnn,” she moaned. He thrust again and again she cried out, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. She lifted herself, matching him thrust for thrust.
“More,” he growled into her hair. He rotated his hips, grinding her down onto his shaft.
“Looogaaann!!” Ororo was coming, trembling around him, clutching at his damp skin, arching her back, and still he continued moving in and out of her, with agonizing slowness now, prolonging her release.
Ororo leaned forward kissing him heatedly, biting his lower lip, drawing blood, knowing what it did to him. She loved this tender Logan but she wanted all of him. She would settle for nothing less.
Logan rumbled long and low, turning and walking through the water, carrying her back to shore, laying her down on the grass, the cool breeze caressing their skin. He reached between their joined bodies, stroking her as he moved in and out of her in deep, hard strokes.
Eyes darkening even more Logan felt his inner beast coming to the surface, lured out by her frantic cries and heated moans. He tried to slow down, wanting to be gentle for her, but Ororo was having none of that. Lifting her hips she raised her legs so that her ankles rested on his shoulders, whispering, “Make me yours.” Wolverine lost himself, claws bursting forth, sinking into the ground, his gleaming fangs bared, pumping against her furiously. Ororo screamed her pleasure, shattering into a million pieces as her climax hit her again, and again.
Feeling her inner muscles clenching and releasing against him was exquisite torture. Wolverine threw his head back and howled, driving into Ororo even faster. She clutched at him, pulling his hair, tilting his head back. His dark eyes glittered down at her, feral and dangerous. Ororo smiled, leaned forward and bit him, hard on the chest, her teeth sinking deep, the coppery taste of blood teasing her tongue.
With a savage snarl Wolverine withdrew, flipping Ororo over, and yanking her hips back against him, reentering her in one fluid motion. Ororo cried out, head thrown back, her body responding to the animal in him in ways she had never done before. Wolverine fisted one hand in her hair, pulling her head back, tilting it to the side, baring the soft flesh between her shoulder and neck. His hips bucked uncontrollably now, his desire for her beyond reason, beyond human. Ororo lowered her eyes, shifting slightly, completely submissive. Wolverine roared, teeth clamping down on the back of her neck on the exposed section of flesh, his canines piercing deep, marking her, claiming her.
This taking was base and animalistic, savage and raw, but above all of that this joining was pure and honest and true. Perfect. Absolutely beautiful.
For the first time in his life Wolverine was not ashamed of the beast he carried within. It had found its mate in the loving form of a goddess returned. Pouring his heart and soul into her, Wolverine came with a long howl, shuddering against her, lapping the dark liquid from her neck, panting against her throat, sniffing her hair.
Ororo reached behind her, pulling Logan to her. They held each other close, legs intertwined, faces buried in the others neck as both succumbed to wrenching sobs, bodies trembling, hearts fulfilled.
A long time later, the sun setting behind the trees, staining the sky with oranges and pinks, Logan sat up, looking down at the sleeping woman in the grass. He padded quietly to his clothes, returning to her a moment later.
Ororo opened her eyes, sensing she was being watched. Logan was seated beside her, running his hand along her back. She raised one eyebrow in silent question to his serious expression.
“I love ya, ‘Ro. You are…everything. I am not whole without ya.”
“Nor I you, my love.”
Logan cleared his throat. “So, would ya put this back on?”
Ororo glanced at his outstretched hand. In the center of his upturned palm sat her three stoned diamond and sapphire engagement ring. She raised her eyes to his and said, “No.”
Logan felt like someone had hit him with a truck. He swallowed hard.
Ororo sat up, still looking him straight in the eye, holding out her trembling left hand. “You put it on me.”
Logan’s hand shook as he slid the ring onto her third finger, more nervous now than he had been the first time. “I love you.” Ororo whispered, pulling him to her. Moments later they were once again lost in the miracle that was their love.

Xavier Institute
3 months after Madripoor


Soft pink an white petals floated on the breeze, filling the air with the fragrance of orchids and lilies. The trees rustled gently in the wind, the light chatter of branches filling the silent air. From where he stood atop a grassy knoll, staring across the short breadth of silk aisle, that felt more like miles, Logan felt his chest tighten and his vision blur at the sight walking towards him. So caught up in her, he had to remind himself to breathe.
Ororo smiled with undiluted love as she approached slowly, the soft sound of music beginning to play in the background. Several eyes turned towards her as she approached, her hand clasped tightly to the man rolling beside her in his wheelchair. Her long hair hung in loose waves down her back, crowned with a wreathe of flowers, primarily orchids and pink lilies, matching the bouquet clutched in her free hand. He long white dress flowed behind her in ripples of soft silk, the gown hand picked by her and Jean over two years ago, but modified by Ororo for this day. Slender straps fell loosely about her shoulders, caressing her upper arms with each step she took. It was a gown fit for a goddess of Earth, simple and breathtaking. The only elaboration was done on the bodice of the gown, which was embroidered with delicate silver vines and leaves, the stitches done by Ororo herself.
Now, walking towards the man who held her heart, Ororo’s normally steady hands trembled and her full bottom lip quivered with emotion. They had fought so hard, so long to get here and finally--finally, here they were. Logan looked unbearably handsome in his tailored black tux, a solitary lily pinned to his lapel, his dark hair, always unruly, seemed slightly tamer than usual, but still had a definite ‘wild’ look about it, and she’s have it no other way. He turned towards her as she drew nearer to him and she delighted in the rippling of muscle beneath his jacket. Logan was the embodiment of all that was virile and primal in nature. If she was the nurturer, then he was the protector.
Ororo’s eyes wandered to Jean, her Matron of Honor, slightly swollen now with child and she gave her a tremulous smile. Jean of course was already crying, but the grin that lit her face was beautiful and the support and love in her eyes made Ororo thankful for her in her life. Shifting her blue eyes her smile broadened at the sight of Logan’s best man. Gambit gave her a wicked grin. Over the past several months Gambit and Logan had bonded, their mutual grieving for Ororo tying them together in a strong bond of friendship.
The flower covered arch was near, now. Kurt donned in his finest robes, presiding over the ceremony. Ororo turned her warm gaze to Logan, who was staring at her with a mixture of intense love, and animal lust. Ororo would never tire of that look, loving the way his dark eyes glittered at her, their steel gray heating to smoldering black. They had reached the altar, and Charles kissed her hand.
*You are beautiful…Daughter.*
*Thank you, Father.*
Logan felt his heartbeat accelerate as Charles handed Ororo’s hand over into his. He gave her slender fingers a gentle squeeze, and she returned it. Looking at her now, her beauty beyond compare, only outshone by the purity of her soul, Logan knew happiness like he had never dreamed possible. No one had touched him the way Ororo had, so completely consuming his senses and filling his heart and soul. She was his everything.
Ororo turned, handing Jean her bouquet, receiving a tender smile from her friend. She turned back to Logan and her breath caught at the powerful love she saw reflected in his eyes. She mouthed the words: I love you, causing him to rumble gently in his chest.
“Dearly beloved…” Kurt began, his slightly accented voice carrying over the group of X-men, family and friends that were there to witness the union of the mighty Wolverine and the Storm that had claimed his heart.
Kurt was speaking, but the only sound either Logan or Ororo heard was the pounding of each other’s heart. Their gazes locked, hands clasped fast, their souls bared for the other to see. Looking at them was like looking at love personified, so enraptured with each other, so oblivious to everything but their love.
“Ororo and Logan have written their own vows, and I would ask that they share them now.” Kurt looked at Logan expectantly.
Logan took a ragged breath, staring deep into Ororo’s cerulean on sapphire eyes, his voice husky as he spoke. “The first thing I ever noticed about ya, was yer eyes. They captivated me, and held me. Yer eyes are such beautiful blue sometimes I can't look away, and when ya look at me like ya are right now, I tell ya, it’s hard ta breathe.” He took another breath, his chin dimpled with emotion. “Ye’ve done the impossible, darlin’. Ya’ve washed all my wounds for me, cleaning the darkness from my veins, freeing my heart. We’ve been through so much, ‘Ro, ta get where we are today, and I need ya ta know that never again will we be apart. No bonds can hold me from yer side, I will spend forever with you.” his voice cracked. “ I couldn’t love you, anymore than I do, it‘d be impossible. You are my heart, my soul, the very reason I breathe. Ya know you're all that I live for and I'd die just to hold you, take care of you, call you mine. I love you now, I will love you forever. Always.”
Ororo blinked, her voice heavy and tight with love as she began. “These softly spoken words that you have given me will remain locked in my heart. There are so many sweet words that I want to give you, to tell you how much you mean to me, to tell you how proud I am to be standing here beside you today.” Ororo paused, her lip quivering and Logan gave her a tender smile, his gray eyes misty. “When we are together, I feel perfect, and when I was forced away from you, I nearly fell apart. It was you and our love that gave me strength, that pulled me through, that lead me home.” He squeezed her trembling fingers and she smiled with infinite love. “You are such a proud and honorable man, Logan, and I pray that I am worthy of such a gift that is your love. You are my night sky, full of infinite potential, and mysterious depths. I have always been right behind you, Logan, and now I will always be right beside you, as your wife.” A single tear slid down her supple cheek. “I will honor our vows, and protect your heart all the days of my life and beyond.”
“The rings, please.” Kurt waited for the Gambit to hand Logan the rings. “The wedding ring is the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual bond which unites two loyal hearts in endless love. It is a seal of the vows James Howlett and Ororo Munroe have made to one another. Bless O God these rings, that Ororo and Logan who give them, and who wear them, may ever abide in thy peace. Living together in unity, love and happiness for the rest of their lives.”
Logan slid the intricate gold band along Ororo’s finger, resting just outside her engagement ring, which she refused to remove. “Ororo, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, your Bright Lady and Beloved Goddess, with this ring, I thee wed.”
Ororo took Logan’s hand, sliding the matching band along his finger. “Logan, my love, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. In the name of your Father, and his Son, and of the Holy Spirit, by my Bright Lady and Beloved Goddess, with this ring, I thee wed.”
Kurt cleared his throat, his own eyes clouding up with emotion. “In as much as you have each pledged to the other your lifelong commitment, love and devotion, I now pronounce you husband and wife, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder. Logan, you may kiss your bride!”
Several cheers went up as Logan swept Ororo into his arms, his lips descending on hers with slow tenderness. Thunder boomed in the clear sky and several guests jumped, but Ororo and Logan simply held each other, their mouths grazing and kissing lovingly.
“I meriwet ek djet, hi. Djet.” Ororo murmured against Logan’s mouth.
“I meritwet ek, ib-i.” He replied, hungrily devouring her lips.
A round of applause separated them, both flushed and breathing heavy. Jubilee released a stream of plasma fireworks into the air and Kitty tossed flower petals into the air as Logan and Ororo made their way towards the mansion.
Once inside the reception began without preamble, the need to celebrate felt by all who basked in the warm glow of Ororo and Logan’s love.
Logan took Ororo into his strong arms as the first dance of the rest of their lives began. They moved together around the room, lost in each other’s eyes, his hand sliding up the open expanse of her back, caressing the velvet smoothness of her skin. Ororo leaned into him, whispering in his ear.
Logan jerked back, gave her a puzzled look, then with a grin the devil would envy, interlaced their fingers, tugging her from the room, racing across the open field towards the lake.
“Where’re they going? They’re missing their own dang reception.” Jubilee grumbled.
“Non, chere. Dey not missin’ a t’ing.” Gambit chuckled as he slung one arm around her shoulders, leading her back into the dining hall.


The grass felt cool against her bare skin, Ororo noted as Logan lowered her slowly to the ground, beneath the large willow tree beside the lake. They had undressed frantically, but once naked they had slowed, savoring each other. Caressing softly, whispering words of love, kissing slowly, lingering over each others lips, tongues teasing and tasting.
The breeze ruffled his ebony hair, and she reached out to touch him. He was propped on one arm, leaning over her, trailing his firm fingers lightly over her bare stomach, eliciting sounds from her that varied between laugh and moan.
“Love ya, ‘Ro,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to the valley of her breasts. Ororo arched against him, fingers clutching his dark locks. He trailed sweet kisses along the line of her stomach, moving down her body until she felt his hot breath on her center. Logan stroked her thighs until she trembled. Then he probed higher, seeking the moist heat he knew he would find waiting for him.
Only for him.
He found it. His tongue lapping gently.
“Logan!” Ororo shuddered.
He smiled against her sensitive skin, clasping his hands underneath her firm rump, holding her to him as he drank deeply, loving her with his lips and teeth and tongue. His groan turned into a growl as she convulsed against his mouth, her own lips parted in a silent cry of release. The clouds swirled overhead, the wind picking up, as she bucked against his relentless onslaught. He eased himself away from her watching her face as she came, loving how captivating she was in her splendor. She opened heavy lidded sapphire eyes, her lips parted as her breath panted out of her in short spurts.
Logan crawled up over her body, staring deep into her eyes, nudging her legs farther apart with his knee, sinking into her wetness with a guttural groan. He claimed her mouth again, thrusting his tongue in and out, in sync with the movement of his hips.
Ororo raised her legs, wrapping them around his rigid back, locking her ankles. His kisses were hungry and demanding, suckling her lower lip, his tongue teasing the seam as he leaned away from her, then thrust to the hilt. He tasted of champagne and cigars and the spicy remnants of her own sex.
She captured his face with her palms, holding him steady as she stared into his soul. “I love you, husband.”
Logan’s throat tightened and he kissed her with all the gentle love his heart possessed, bringing her to tears. “I love you, wife.” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath giving her Goosebumps. He tickled the sworls with his tongue, capturing the lobe between his canines, tugging lightly.
Ororo moaned, lifting her hips and turning her head to give him better access. Logan breathed in her earthy scent, burying his face against the shallow groove between her neck and shoulder. She bore a faint crescent scar from his claim, and surprisingly it hadn’t faded to oblivion as her other scars did. She had told him it was because she was meant for him and no other. He agreed wholeheartedly.
“Ohhh, Logan…” Ororo breathed as her rotated his hips in the way he knew she liked so well. A deep rumbled echoed in his chest and throat, loving the way she responded to him, the way she was so unashamed to give herself completely to him.
“Mine,” he growled huskily.
“Yes,” she said.
“Mine.” He drove forward harder now, his strokes deep and demanding, but still exquisitely slow. Logan kissed her nose, her eyelids, her lips, mouthing meaningless words and sounds against her damp skin.
Ororo opened her eyes, flashing white as a gust of wind flipped them over, still joined, but with her straddling him. She leaned against him, her nipples teasing the crisp hair of his chest, making him groan. “Mine,” she said, moving on him. She lifted herself, palms on his chest, then slid slowly back down. She repeated the process several times, then taking a note from his book she rotated her hips, while grinding down. Logan threw his head back, eyes closed and roared.
“Mine.” She rotated again, this time reaching behind her to cup and fondle him as she did.
“Fuck, yes!” He growled, his hands reflexively gripping her hips as she moved.
Ororo increased her pace, adjusting the rhythm by the sounds he made. She leaned up, her silver and snow hair falling around them like a curtain, kissing him, teasing his lips then pulling away, smiling at his grumbles.
Logan grinned up at her, sinking his hands into the thick silk of her hair, pulling her down to claim her mouth in a savage kiss, rolling so once again he was on top, moving within her.
“’Ro, come with me,” he said. He surged forward, linking their hands on either side of her head. Ororo whimpered as he surged with deep, powerful strokes, taking his time, filling her. Completely.
“Logan, oh, oh, Ahhhhh!!!” Ororo came apart in his arms, lightening slamming into the ground scant inches from them, but he wasn’t worried, his beautiful wife would keep them safe.
Within seconds Logan followed suit, his body convulsing as he spilled his seed deep into her womb with a roar.

Logan cradled Ororo’s head on his shoulder, kissing her hair softly. He was leaning against the bark of one of the willow tree’s upturned roots and she was seated in front of him, her head lulled back, asleep.
“I think that’s when I knew I loved you,” he whispered into her ear. He’d been speaking to her quietly even though he knew she was fast asleep. Ororo shifted in his arms, snuggling closer, sniffing him. He smiled.
She was his wife now, he thought amazed. Not his first, but he knew she would be the last. The only love of his life. His friend, his lover, his mate. The missing piece of his soul lay in his arms in naked splendor, her heavenly features softened in a look of love, even in sleep. Logan felt full to bursting, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, nuzzling her soft hair. “I love ya, Mrs. Howlett. Forever.”

“Wolverine, calm down.”
Logan snapped his head around, glaring at Jean. “Calm down?” He asked incredulous. “I just found my fucking wife passed out on the floor, and you want me ta calm down?”
Jean sighed, looking at her watch. Ororo had been in with Hank an awful long time, she thought, but refrained from saying anything, not wanting to rile Logan up any more than he was.
Logan growled, his claws extending and retracting reflexively in his frustration. “What’s takin’ so long?” he snarled.
The double doors of the med lab slid open and Beast stepped out, wearing his white lab coat. He gave Logan a very serious look and Logan’s heart sank.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I think she should be the one you hear it from,” Hank said.
Without another word Logan stormed passed the blue furry man, missing the grin he shot Jean. “’Ro?” He approached her slowly. She had her back to him, her head bent forward, and for a moment he was held motionless by fear. “’Ro?”
Ororo turned, her eyes damp with unshed tears. Fuck. Oh, fuck, no. Wolverine nearly fell to his knees. It was bad, whatever it was, it was bad.
“Logan,” she began, voice trembling.
“I’m here, darlin’.” He pulled her close, holding her tight. “Tell me.”
Ororo kissed his neck softly, whispering low, but knowing he could hear her. “How do you feel about being a father?”
Logan jerked back, his steel eyes searching her blue ones. “Father?”
Ororo nodded, a huge smile spreading across her face. Logan placed a hand to his heart. A father? He was gonna be a father!
“Whoohoo!!!”
“He took that well,” Hank said dryly to Jean, watching through the window as Logan spun Ororo around in a circle, kissing her passionately. It soon became clear Logan had no intention of stopping with a mere kiss and Jean and Hank quickly made themselves scarce.
“When? How?” Logan asked dazedly, running his fingers along her bare shoulder as she lay across his chest.
Ororo leaned up, raising one eyebrow and he realized how utterly ridiculous both of those questions were. “I believe we just participated in the how,” she drawled.
“Witch.” He kissed her.
“Hank and I suspect that I am roughly eight weeks, give or take.”
“A baby.” Logan stroked her bare stomach in awe.
“Our baby,” she sighed, laying her head back on his chest, content in the protective circle of his arms.


Logan bought baby book after baby book. Reading and reviewing material over and over, until Ororo was certain that he could probably birth the child himself. Everyone was inordinately pleased with their news, especially Jean who thought it was wonderful that baby Nathan would have a playmate. Gambit became a bit overprotective, hovering about almost as bad as Wolverine, but Ororo bore their nagging in good humor.
She and Logan moved from the loft into a newly built house on the opposite side of the lake, complete with skylight, that Gambit took full advantage of despite repeated warnings from Logan.
The months passed quickly and Ororo swelled with child, then as it turned out, children. Twins.
“Nervous?” Logan asked one night as their due date approached.
“A bit,” Ororo confessed against his chest.
He ran his hands along her spine soothingly, flexing his fingers, adding pressure here and there, soothing her tired muscles. Big as a house she was, but Logan had never seen a more radiant woman than Ororo. Her skin glowed with an inner light and her eyes fairly danced with happiness every day.
“Don’t be darlin’. Ye’ll do fine.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”


Ten days later

Ororo grit her teeth, another spasm wracking her body. Blood gushed from between her thighs and she tried not to cry out. Thunder boomed and lightening split the sky. The storm that raged outside was fierce and dangerous, but not nearly Logan’s biggest concern.
“Jesus!” Wolverine was panicked. He had woken to the smell of blood. Far, far too much blood. He had rolled to see his beloved wife curled in the fetal position, unconscious, her lower half soaked scarlet. It had taken him three tries to wake her. He had buzzed Hank’s office and room around the same time, several minutes ago, but he had yet to arrive.
“Logan.” Ororo panted.
“Here, baby. I’m here.”
She stared at him with tortured eyes. “Save them.”
Logan gripped her hand tightly. Ororo demanded again, “Save them, Logan. No matter what.”
Logan shook his head. He couldn’t. If it meant her life or theirs, as much as it would kill him, he could not lose her.
“Damn you, Wolverine,” she growled. “You will save our babies!”
“Shush, love,” he said, wiping her brow. “Hank’ll be here any minute and you can scream at him, okay?”
Another spasm claimed her, robbing her of breath and momentarily blinding her to anything but the white hot flashes of pain.
“Hold on, baby.” The phone rang.
“Logan?” Jean, frantic and worried.
“Yeah.”
“ I can feel Ororo. God, Logan, what happened? The babies?” she asked.
“Yeah. Where the fuck is Hank?”
“Jesus, Logan. Hank’s gone, he went to Maryland with Cecilia last night for a medical seminar.”
“What?!” Logan was practically feral now, his fear escalating.
“Okay, talk to me. What’s happening?”
Thunder boomed, and static filled the line. “Jean!”
“H..re, Lo..n. Can you..me?”
“Jeannie?”
*I’m here. Tell me what’s happening.*
Logan hung up the phone. *This.* He stood in front of Ororo and sent jean the images he was seeing.
*Ok. You need to calm down, Logan. As much as you can, you’re clouding the channel.*
*Help her, Jean.*
Jean felt his desperation and her heart went out to him. God, he loved Ororo, she could feel it all the way to her bones.
“L-logan?” Ororo was getting weaker, struggling to hold on.
“Hey, baby.” He held her hand.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she whispered.
Logan felt his gut clench. He moved to her legs, lifting the hem of her nightdress. “Oh, God.” She was hemorrhaging, the blood soaking through the bed, dripping onto the floor. “Baby, stay with me…Don’t leave me, ‘Ro. God, please.”
“I love you.” She said softly, her cold fingers touching his jaw. “Save them.”
“’Ro.” His voice was raw.
*Wolverine.* Jean was crying in his mind.
*Jean.*
*I need you to feel inside her, see if you can feel the babies.*
Logan rose, making his way to their sink, washing his hands, then returning to Ororo. Her eyes were glassy now, staring past him. “No!” He growled baring his fangs at her. “You don’t run, Ororo!! You fight! You fight! So fight, damn you!”
*Logan, the babies.*
Turning away from Ororo’s pale face Logan inserted two fingers, pushing against what felt like a body. *Ya getting this Jean?*
*Yes.* A long pause. *They’re stuck, Logan, and they are dying.*
His heart shuddered.
“Cut them out,” Ororo whispered. Logan realized that Jean was projecting to her as well.
He shook his head. “We don’t have any medical equipment here, darlin.’”
Ororo shifted and more blood poured from her, covering his arm. “You…cut them…out.” She gestured to his hands and Logan felt his blood turn to ice.
“No.”
*Logan. It’s the only way to save them.*
*What about her, Jean? What about my ‘Ro?*
Silence.
*Fuck you!!*
“Husband. Love. My heart.” Ororo was whispering to him. “I beg of you, save them. If you hold any love for me at all save them.”
Her body jerked in spasm and she bit her lips so hard she drew blood. “Please.”
“I will not lose you,” he swore.
Ororo dug deep, pulling on her reserves, and shoved herself into a sitting position, grabbing the letter opener from the nightstand. She pressed it to her throat. “I will leave you no choice,” she warned, her voice hoarse.
“Fuck you, ‘Ro.” Logan growled, trembling. “Fuck you.”
“Please…”
Logan hung his head. *Jean.*
*I am here.*
*Help me.*
Jean walked Logan through sterilization of his claws, not having time to boil water, instead rubbing alcohol on them. He retracted all but one, pressing it to the soft flesh of Ororo’s stomach, hesitating.
*I’ll try to dull the pain.* Jean said.
*Can you?* Connected as they were Logan felt her doubt and he cursed.
*Ready?*
*No.* He said sincerely.
“Do it,” Ororo hissed as another spasm stole her breath.
Wolverine grit his teeth, his face crumpling in pain and sorrow as he sliced open his much-loved wife. Ororo screamed despite her best efforts not to and Logan roared with her, his pain excruciating as well.
*There.* Jean guided him in the extraction of the first baby. A little girl with a tuft of white hair. Logan lowered the squirming bundle onto the bed beside Ororo, who was sobbing openly now, staring at her daughter.
“Hello, Kendall,” she said on a whisper.
*The other is trapped. The cord is around its neck.*
Logan returned to work, extracting the other baby, carefully untangling the cord from around his neck. He turned to Ororo to show her their son but she was no longer aware, her eyes closed, breathing faint. “No. Ahh, God, no. I can’t…I can’t…” Logan pressed his forehead to hers. “Baby, ya can’t leave me alone, please…please…” He sobbed, clutching her head to his chest, broken hiccups wracking his frame. “’Ro. Stay with me…I’m begging…I love you…”
*Logan…I’m so sorry…* Jean was in his head, her voice distorted with pain.
Logan howled, a painful, mournful sound that split the night and traveled all the way to the mansion, where several people felt the urge to cross themselves.
A vociferous wail split the air along with his father’s howl, and their son cradled in his arms thrashed. Logan glanced down at the little body with a mixture of resentment and joy. The infant opened his black eyes and Logan felt a stirring in his heart. His son.
The baby cried again, and suddenly Ororo’s body jerked, convulsed, her mouth opening on a raw scream that tore at her throat and Logan’s already wounded heart. The baby wailed and moaned and Ororo’s stomach began to heal. Watching in absolute fascination Logan realized that their son was still connected to her, via the umbilical and was somehow healing her, his powers helping his mother heal.
“That’s my boy,” he said. “C’mon, Mommy’s almost better, come on, little guy.”
As Ororo’s body healed, she screamed and screamed, the pain near unbearable. Would it never stop? Then all went black.

Voices. Several of them. Ororo blinked her eyes. “My babies?” She cried, sitting up. She was still in her bed, but the bedding was clean and she was changed into a fresh nightgown.
Logan stepped forward, away from Jean and Gambit, cradling two bundles in his arms. “Hey Mommy,” he said, voice broken and tender.
Two sets of eyes blinked down at her, one pair as brilliant blue as her own, and the other set, deep and dark like his father’s.
“How?” Ororo asked, her eyes luminous. She stroked Kendall’s soft cheek. Kissing both babies atop their soft heads.
“Our boy.” Logan sat beside her, laying the babies in her arms. “The best Jeannie and Hank can figure is that li’l Jack has a touch of my healing factor, only maybe able ta share it. It’s hard ta say until it develops when he’s older.”
“I think he was able to manifest it because he was still attached to you,” Hank said, coming alongside the bed, he was carrying a glass of water for her. “Your mutant genes already active, allowed his recessive genes momentary activity.”
Ororo smiled down at her son. “Thank you, Jacky.”
“Jacky?” Logan grimaced.
“One of you is bad enough,” Ororo said with a smile. “Jacky is a fine little boy’s name. He can become a carbon copy Logan jr. when he is older. Much older.”
“Actually, chere, his name is Jack Remy Howlett.” Gambit said, strolling over to her, bending and kissing her softly on the lips. “Glad t’ still ‘ave you back, padnat.”
Ororo kissed him back, ignoring her husbands playful growl. “Good to be back.”
She glanced at Logan, mouthing :Remy?
He shrugged. “It was the only way ta get Gumbo ta go back ta his own house.”
Ororo laughed, the sound delighting Logan. He kissed her softly, lingering over her full bottom lip. “I love you, Logan.”
“Same.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, before grumbling. “Okay, okay, everybody out! Me and the missus need ta spend some time alone!! Bye now!” he slammed the door. Leaning against it he scowled at her, looking around the room at all the gift baskets and get well cards and congratulatory mementos.
“It will only get worse,” she assured him. “Birthday parties, Christmas, sleep overs,” she glanced at Kendall, “Dating.”
Logan growled his best Wolverine growl and shook his head. “Uhn-uh, not my daughter. I’ll be laying down the law.”
“Right. We shall see.” Ororo smiled up at him with tender adoration.


Five years later

“Please, Daddy? Pretty please?” Long eyelashes batted against caramel skin and big blue orbs gazed up at him.
“All right, sweet pea.” Logan bent, picking his daughter up and tossing her into the air, catching her and swinging her back up again.
Ororo stepped onto their porch watching the play of activity with a soft smile. “I thought you said they were to be in bed, darling?” she called.
Logan glanced guiltily over his shoulder. “On our way. Where’s Jacky?”
“Already tucked in, like a good little boy.”
Logan made his way towards her, tossing Kendall as he walked. “Oh.”
“Come on, mister law layer, as soon as they are to bed we can go look at the stars by the lake.” Ororo gave him a sultry smile and Logan’s blood thickened.
“Ok, kiddo, off ta bed.” Logan nudged Kendall through the screen door, his eyes on Ororo.
“Are you guys gonna be all kissy again?” Kendall asked, tilting her head. Crowned with a head of hair that rivaled her father’s for disarray but was the same pure snow color of her mother’s Kendall was a nice blend of both parents, although she did get her looks from her mother.
“Yeah, we are.” Logan warned, making big pucker lips at Ororo, making loud smacking sounds for Kendall’s benefit. The little girl squealed and laughed, racing for her room.
“Jacky! Jacky! Mommy and Daddy are gonna be all kissy.”
“Ewww.” Logan jerked his head up to see his five year old son sitting directly above them in the tree beside their porch.
“In bed, huh? Good little boy, huh?” He raised one black eyebrow at Ororo.
Ororo laughed. “I can not help it if he is his father’s son, through and through.”
“Sure, blame me.” Logan swung up into the tree, and young Jacky yelped, laughingly climbing his way farther up the branches.
“Easy, Jacky, you are awfully high.” Ororo warned.
“Aww, Mom, ya worry too much.” SNAP. “Ahh!” Jacky tumbled, but was immediately buoyed by his mother’s gentle winds.
“Thanks, Mommy.”
Ororo settled him on the porch in front of her. “Off to bed, young man, or no zoo tomorrow.”
“Goodnight!” Jacky ran to the room he shared with his sister.
Logan dropped from the tree, swinging Ororo up in his arms. “The lake?”
“Mmmhm.” Ororo kissed him, running her tongue along the seam of his mouth. “I say we try for number three,” she whispered huskily.
Logan grunted in agreement as his mouth moved over hers, lost in each other as they always were. Overhead a shower of shooting stars rained across the sky and from their room the children watched their parents make there way towards the lake in the distance, Logan carrying Ororo the whole way.
“Daddy sure loves Mommy,” Jacky said.
“You bet he does. He said Mommy was a Goddess,” Kendall said with worldly knowledge.
“Wow.”
“Uncle Remy?” Kendall called down to the kitchen, knowing he was there.
“Oui, chere.”
“Come tell us the story of how you met Mommy again.”
“Wit’ pleasure, ma petite padnat. Wit’ pleasure.”

Lake

“I love you, Mrs. Howlett.”
“I love you Mr. Howlett.”
“Wanna start on baby number three now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Warm laughter and tender touches fill the night air and when the thunder boomed and the lightening flashed, no one jumped, knowing that more than likely they were expressions of love between an earthly diety and her feral beast.