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Three years. She was gone for three years without so much as a postcard to let us know she was alright. Then all of a sudden, she shows up.

Me, Jeannie, Scooter and the Elf were sitting in the den, watching Chapelle, when all of a sudden I caught her scent. Sandlewood and ozone. My heart almost beat straight out of my chest, but I didn't turn to the door.

Truth is, I smelled her everywhere, even after three years. I've always chalked it up to some olfactory memory, or some shit like that. I'd see something that that reminded me of her, have some memory of our happier days, and I would smell her like she was standing right next to me. I could feel her silky skin beneath my hands, her lips against mine. I can't even count the number of times I thought I heard that sexy-ass, honey-smooth voice whisper my name.

So, imagine my surprise when Kurt jumped up, eyes wide and staring at the doorway.

"Ororo."

It was like the world stopped spinning. It was like the world blew the fuck up. Everything started moving in slow motion. Jean and Scott whirled around, Jean jumping up and running to the door with Scott hot on her heels, and Kurt not far behind. All three of them had these stupid-ass grins on their faces.

Me? The fucking couch was eating my alive. I couldn't move, could barely think. I could hear Jeannie talking excitedly, even One-Eye sounded happy, and Kurt was babbling in German, but I was stuck to the damn couch. Ororo said nothing, not one single word to the others. I strained my ears trying to grasp onto one word, the slightest sound. Anything to make her real. She didn't talk, though. Not even a whisper, until. . .

"Logan."

Have you ever seen those cartoons where the picture cracks and shatters like glass? Everything falls until all that's left is a black screen and Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck or some other fucking cartoon character standing in the middle. I swear that's exactly what happened to me at that very moment. Everything just fell away at the sound of her voice. Then I looked at her and everything came rushing back. The room, the people...her. Ororo. Our life together. Our love. Her betrayal. My anger.

Then I looked at her and the strongest thing I felt was love. I searched for something, I don't know what, in her eyes, but they were dead. Cold and empty in a way I had never seen. It chilled me to the bone and made my blood boil all at the same time. I wanted to love that that emptiness away. I also wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake the hell out of her, scream in her face until her eyes were filled with fear. Yeah, I was pretty much trapped somewhere between a pansy-ass, mush-brained idiot and a complete asshole.

She took a step into the room, our eyes were still locked, "Logan-"

"Stormy, le's go."

Gambit. Great. Just fucking perfect. Before I could even open my mouth to say anything, the Cajun grabbed 'Ro's arm and pulled her away. She didn't fight him, but she never broke our eye contact. Not until she was out of the room and we were separated by a wall, and even then I felt her gaze.

Jeannie turned to me with a frown, "Something's wrong."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


That was two weeks ago. Since then, I've barely seen my wife. Truth is, I've been avoiding her. What the fuck am I supposed to say to her? Am I supposed to act like everything's fine? Or maybe I should act like a pissed off son-of-a-bitch, jumping up in her face every fifteen minutes.

All I know is that I can't be in the same room she's in. This shit has to stop now. I can't keep peeking into rooms to make sure she's not in them, or practically running away every time she comes near. It's getting real fucking tired. There's a lot of shit that needs to be said, and a whole hell of a lot more that needs to be heard.

I did finally find out where 'Ro was, though. Jeannie told me that she was in L.A., helping out at a shelter for mutants. The shelter was funded completely by Xavier and run by a woman named Desiree Marceau, who grew up with Gumbo. So, after three years of wondering if my wife was still alive, if she needed me, it turns out that Chuck and Gumbo knew where she was all along. I was pissed off when I found out. I ran into Gambit a few days later and damn near put him through a wall. I asked him the same question I asked Chuck: Why didn't he tell me where my wife was? Charles hadn't answered me, but you bet your sweet ass Gambit did.

"'Cause she di'nt wan' yo' t'know, homme."

It was so simple. I dropped him on his ass and left the mansion. I went into the city for a few days, just to blow off a little steam. I didn't cheat on her, as much as I was tempted. In the entire time she was gone, I hadn't cheated on 'Ro once, and I sure as hell wasn't going to do it now that she was home. Didn't mean I couldn't look though.

Anyway, when I finally got home, I ran into 'Ro in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table in her sky blue robe, sipping a cup of tea. We locked eyes for a minute before I went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. I was planning on just getting my beer and then getting the hell out of there, but her voice stopped me.

"Are you angry with me, Logan?"

'Am I angry?' The question caught me completely off guard. Am I angry? I didn't rightly know. Some days I was angry, some days I was hurt, some days I didn't feel much of anything. She wanted an answer, so I said the next thing that popped into my head, "Angry ain't the word, darlin'."

"Prove it."

She whispered the words, but I heard them loud and clear. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. She still sat at the table, not looking at me. Slowly she took another sip of her tea, like she hadn't said a damn thing. I must have been hearing things. "Excuse me?"

"I said," she looked up at me, challenge flashing in her baby-blues. "Prove it."

"What exactly is it that ya want, Storm?" For the life of me, I don't know why I called her by her code name.

She chuckled a little, rising to her feet. "Storm, huh? Okay, Wolverine, you want to know what I want? I want you to prove that you feel something-anger, rage, anything. I want you to stop tiptoeing around me, stop pretending we aren't under the same roof."

ME? She wants ME to act like I feel something. All the feelings that I tried to bury-the anger, the pain-came rushing back to the surface. "Ya want me ta show ya my anger 'Ro? Ya sure ya can handle it, 'cause there are days when I wanna wrap my hands around yer fucking throat and squeeze every last drop of life from yer body. There are times when I wanna walk up ta ya and just crack yer jaw."

"Then why don't you?" I swear there was a little smirk on her face.

"Is that what ya want? Ya want me to come over there and beat the livin' daylights outta ya?"

"Not particularly, no."

'What the hell?' "What kinda game are ya playin' at darlin'?"

"It isn't a game, Logan," she sighed. "I know you're angry, I would be. It's just... I kept my emotions lock up inside myself for almost two years before I allowed myself to actually grieve for our child. Keeping all of that bottled up inside almost killed me."

Damn. How the hell was I supposed to stay mad at her after that? Turns out it really wasn't that hard. "And? What's that supposed ta mean ta me?"

"You've been mad at me for three years, right Logan? Well, here's your chance to tell me."

It was ride or die time. It was time we had it out and moved on with our lives, either together or separately. "Do ya know where I was while ya were runnin' out on me? I was knee deep in Sabertooth's innards. I hunted down the bastard that killed our kid, almost killed ya, and cut his head off. I went out there ta take vengeance for what that motherfucker did ta ya, and when I came back ya were gone. Ya left like some thief in the night, which isn't too far from the truth, is it?"

"I suppose not," was all she said.

"Chuck and Gumbo knew where ya were, but do ya think they let me know? Hell no. I was left here for three years wonderin' where ya were, if ya were even alive."

"I asked them not to tell you."

"Heaven forbid they break a promise ta their precious 'Stormy'."

"Are you really angry with them, Logan?"

Was I? Not really. Truth is, had it been Rogue that run off, I wouldn't have told Gambit where she went, and neither would the professor. "No. I'm angry with YOU. Ya weren't the only one that lost a kid, 'Ro. I was grieving too, but ya didn't care about that, did ya?"

"At the time, no I didn't," honesty at its ugliest. "Then again, I wasn't exactly in my right mind."

"So, instead of staying here and letting us work through things together, ya left?"

"Yes. Look, Logan, I know you're probably waiting for me to tell you I'm sorry and I'll never do it again. Do you want me to fall to my knees and take back the last three years of our lives? Do you want me to beg for forgiveness? Well, I can't. I can't do any of it, if I did it would be a lie." Her eyes filled with tears and thunder rumbled in the distance as she continued, "I don't need your forgiveness because I did not do anything wrong. I did what I had to. I knew that if I stayed I would have come to resent everything, and everyone, here. I did the only thing I could, I left."

"Ya were gone for three years."

"And for two of those years I walked around in a daze. I didn't allow myself to feel anything, least of all loss. When I finally let myself feel, it opened a floodgate that I was afraid would never close, so I stayed away. I don't expect you to understand, or care."

Oh, I understood. I understood all too well. A few weeks after 'Ro left, I made a marker for our baby and put it in the cemetery. That's when it really hit me. Our kid was gone, I wouldn't get to hold it, teach it to shoot hoops, nothing. But we should have gone through all of that together. "It was my kid too, 'Ro. Don't ya think ya at least owed me the courtesy of telling me where ya were going?"

"No."

'No?' I know I looked like a goddamned idiot standing there with my mouth hanging open, but I didn't know what the fuck to say. It felt like an eternity before my brain started to function again. "Why the hell not?"

"Because, Logan, the point of leaving the way I did was so that no one would know where I was going. I didn't even know until I got there."

There was a long silence during which we sized each other up. Neither one of us moved a muscle or said a thing, we just stared, waiting for the other to make a move.

"Why?" I had to ask. It was the one question that had been on my mind since Chuck first told me she was gone. "Why did ya leave? Was it because I went ta Jean?"

I swear she looked at me like I had two heads or something before she answered, "No. Goddess, Logan, I am not so petty that I would leave you because you went to the aid of a fallen team mate."

"Then why?"

She lowered he eyes before speaking in almost a whisper, "I felt it. I felt our child die inside of me, Logan. One moment it was alive, part of me, part of YOU inside of me, and the next moment it just. . .wasn't." Her eyes met mine and there was such a look of sheer anguish in them that my anger just melted away. She continued in a shaky voice. "I failed. I promised you that we would be safe, and I failed to keep us that way. That is why I left Logan. One day I had a life inside of me and the next day it was gone. And it was all my fault."

I wanted to go to her, hold her in my arms and tell her that everything would be alright. I wanted to tell her that we could forget about the past three years and work on the next thirty. I took a step forward, and then another. I walked right past her and out of the kitchen, without so much as a word. I stopped in the hallway for a moment, intent on turning around and going back to my wife, but I didn't. I kept right on walking until I found myself in my bedroom, alone.

What the fuck is wrong with me?





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