Snow on the ground.
Heartbeat.
Someone stalking her.
It was happening again.
Terrified.
Helpless. Helpless. So helpless.
Violated.
A boom of thunder jarred Ororo awake. She winced against the bright flash of light filtering through unfamiliar lace curtains. The thunder finished its raucous rumble, rattling the windows. She pressed her head back into the pillow and covered her eyes with the back of one hand, for a moment refusing to move.
She was shaking and soaked with sweat. Just a dream, Storm. Get a grip. Only a stupid dream.
She hated reliving her helplessness, the dreams robbing her of her of any defenses, forcing her to relive that stark terror, her weakness.
Wearily she glanced up at the clock on the wall; 9:15 pm. Damn it. She had asked the desk clerk for a 7 pm wake up call. With an resigned groan, Ororo shifted position, gasping at the razor-sharp twinge in her side that soon progressed to a full scale body ache. She leaned over the bed, fumbling for her small black and silver duffel and the bottle of painkillers stuffed inside.
Shakily she twisted the cap, and hurriedly pushed two Vicodin past dry lips, following them with a swig from the lukewarm bottled water that sat on the bedside stand. With a soft oomph she lay back on the rumpled bed sheets, waiting for the pain in her face and ribs to lessen.
When the hurt became tolerable she rolled to her feet and padded barefoot across orange pile shag carpet towards the small, standing room only, bathroom of her motel room. She closed the door behind her out of habit, not bothering to flick on the overhead light. She knew what the mirror above the sink would show her. She didn’t need the physical reminder of her own frailty. She tossed the small duffel onto the toilet seat.
Leaning against the wall she took several deep breaths, concentrating on the exhale. Her entire body shook with the strain of remaining upright. Two weeks had passed since her attack in the woods and still she felt no stronger than she had the day she had awakened in the med lab. With unsteady hands she managed to pull her sweat dampened shirt over her head, panting with exertion by the time she was done. Such a simple task, yet it completely drained her, forcing her to slide limply to the floor. She cursed her own weakness for the hundredth time, swearing softly into the shadows.
Her head made a soft thump against the wall as she leaned it back, blinking her eyes rapidly, trying to dislodge the lump forming in her throat. God how she missed them. Especially Ali. Ali and…Logan…
Two weeks ago
Why the hell was she so sore? Ororo blinked, confusion furrowing her brow, then unwelcome, reality stepped forward and bitch slapped her in the face, causing her to stifle a scream of rage and fear. Slowly she calmed herself, making an effort to regulate her breathing and keep the lingering darkness at bay. Focus.
She wasn’t in the woods.
She was back at Xavier’s.
She was in the med-lab. She was on a bed.
She was…not alone.
She turned her head, gazing at the room’s other occupant.
Logan was seated bedside with his head bent so that his whiskered chin rested on his chest, asleep. One muscular arm was curled across his middle, while the other was stretched out towards her, his large, warm hand clasping her limp one.
She removed her hand slowly.
Logan jerked awake, his eyes immediately and intensely focused on her. “Hey,” he said after a moment, for lack of anything else.
Ororo tried to move, finding it difficult to do so.
“Easy, darlin’.” Logan reached for her, helping her sit upright. “Here.” He poured her a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the nightstand, tilting the cup to her parched lips.
She gulped the water greedily, lifting her hands to take the glass from him. She swallowed painfully, her throat unusually dry.
“Drink slow.” He recommended. “Yer probably gonna be a bit woozy with all the shit Jeannie’s got ya doped up with.”
She finished the contents in the glass. “Thank you.” Was that her voice? So scratchy?
He nodded. “How ya feelin’?”
She gave him a dubious look.
“Ok, dumb question.” Logan reached out to move a silvery lock hair behind her ear, a familiar gesture that he had performed several dozen times in the past twenty four hours, only to have her shy away from him. His hand dropped to his side.
An uncomfortable silence descended between them.
Logan cleared his throat, his hands curling in on themselves. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Uh, ’Ro--”
“I’d like to be alone.” She interrupted quietly, staring at the far wall. “Please,” she added when he made no response.
He nodded reluctantly. “All right, darlin’, I’ll go let Jeannie know yer awake.”
He glanced back at her over his shoulder before walking from the room, concern evident in his rugged features. Concern and sympathy.
Ororo pressed her lips closed, fighting against the urge to call him back.
Present
Ororo rinsed her mouth, swishing away the last remnants of Colgate. She wiped the back of her hand across her lips, straightening. Reluctantly she met her own shadowed gaze in the dim reflection in the mirror. Coward, the girl staring back accused.
Ororo tilted her head to the side, running the tip of her index finger along her jaw, tracing the fading white line that denoted one of Creed’s many claw marks. She flinched, her mind momentarily trapped in pervasive limbo, and Creed’s throaty groan echoed in her ear, amplified in memory. She could still see him sucking her blood from his finger.
Angrily Ororo let her hand fall from her face. Weak. She gripped the edge of the sink. She was so weak. Too weak to save Henry when he needed her, too weak to save herself.
Turning away from the accusing eyes in the mirror, she cranked the knob of the shower. The water was cold, but it didn’t matter. Bending her head forwards she placed the palm of her hand against the smooth beige tile of the shower stall, welcoming the cool cascade of water over her aching muscles. She lifted her face towards the spray, letting the icy water numb her bruises, but even the cold sting wasn’t enough to numb her mind. She blinked droplets from her lashes, wishing she didn’t hurt so much.
Twelve days ago
“You sent us into a fuckin’ trap!” Wolverine was snarling as he paced the Headmaster’s Office, his upper lip curled, revealing sharp canines.
Jean and Scott exchanged tense glances.
“Yer supposed to be the most powerful fuckin’ telepath on the planet and you didn’t see that coming?”
“That’s enough, Wolverine. We are all understandably upset by the tragedy that has befallen Storm--”
“Ororo.” Wolverine turned on the man in the wheelchair, his graveled voice deadly soft.
“Excuse me?”
“Her name is Ororo. Not Storm. Storm is some impersonal codename ya slapped on her to make yerself more detached, so ya don’t have ta give a shit when fucked up things like this happen to the kids yer sending out to do yer dirty work.”
Charles folded his hands across his lap. “Ororo,” he inclined his head. “Made her decision. She chose to accept the assignment. As did you. No one could have foreseen such a horrific outcome.”
An adamantium fist slammed into the bricks beside the fireplace, dislodging several.
Scott rose to his feet, but sat when Jean placed a gentle hand on his arm. *What if that was me?*
*I’d never let that happen to you.*
*Scott.*
*I’d probably punch a hole through the moon if that was you, baby.*
*I love you.*
*I love you, too, Jean.*
“She chose?” Wolverine scoffed. “You manipulated her to get the response you wanted. I believe you termed the assignment as non-negotiable.”
“The moment Ororo agreed to become an X-Man, she took on certain responsibilities--”
“Yer actually gonna give me that spiel?” Wolverine’s voice was borderline growl. “I remember Jeannie here telling me that she busted ‘Ro outta jail, so it ain’t like ya gave her a lot of choice back then either. Join or jail. Helluva a lot of options.”
Jean spoke for the first time since the meeting had started. “Wolverine, Sabertooth was an unknown. A potential threat or a potential recruit--there was simply not enough information to know for certain one way or another.”
“Chuck knew enough about that fucker to choose Ororo to lure him. I notice he didn‘t send you into the lion‘s den.”
“Hey!” Scott stood again, his face becoming mottled red. “We all care about Storm. You aren’t the only one wanting to rip someone’s head off, but stop laying the blame on the Professor! It’s not like she was alone. She was with you! You were supposed to protect her!”
All of the fight immediately left Logan in that moment.
“Oh, Logan,” Jean stood, her eyes wide. “He didn’t mean it like-”
He waved her off. He ran one hand through his hair, adding to its disarray. “My apologies, Chuck. I know ya wouldn’t have had her hurt if ya could‘ve helped it.” He turned and walked from the room, closing the door silently behind him.
Below, in the med lab, Logan watched Ororo sleeping for long minutes through the observation glass. He strode through the doors quietly, careful not to wake her. Once at her side his hand hovered over the bare flesh of her arm, but he didn’t touch her.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you, darlin’. I know there ain’t no words I can say to make right what was done to ya.” He heaved a weighty sigh. “By that monster…or by me. Just know that I’ll be here to take care of ya, kiddo. I’ll keep ya safe from now on. Rest well, ‘Roro.”
Ororo had waited until she heard the doors hiss shut again before opening her eyes. Kiddo. She cringed against the impersonal nature of that. He thought she needed to be taken care of? Kept safe?
She took a shaky breath., one unwelcome thought persistently dogging her throughout the remainder of the night. He thought she was weak.
The following days had passed in a blur. Visits from Ali and Kurt, flowers from Kitty, Jean and Xavier poking and prodding both physically and mentally, and Logan’s ever constant vigil outside of her room.
He was always there. Attentive and considerate. Kind and platonic. He was the nicest she had ever seen him be, including his time with Jean. She should have been thankful.
She hated it.
Present
Ororo grit her teeth as she secured the bandages around her mid section. She exhaled a pent up breath, wiping wet strands of hair off of her shoulders and away from her forehead.
She gripped the edge of the sink, fighting a wave of nausea. Broken ribs sucked.
With a jerk, she opened her bag and tossed the remaining bandages back inside, she then removed one of several maps stored inside and the wad of cash Alison had given her. She sat on the closed toilet seat, running the bills through her fingertips, a faraway look in her cerulean eyes.
Ten days ago
“Take it.”
“Ali, this is like three grand.”
“Thirty five hundred. It’ll get you by for awhile.”
Ororo shook her head. “I can’t take your money.”
Ali smiled wanly. “You aren’t. It’s from my parents. Their usual monthly ‘we-feel-guilty-for-having-a-mutant-daughter-that-we-can’t-stand’ allowance.”
“I’ll pay you back.” Ororo said as she wrapped the money in a brown paper bag, placing it on top of her folded clothing. She took a deep breath, her nerves on edge. It was one o’clock in the morning and she was in Ali’s room, preparing to depart.
It had been easy enough to convince Xavier that she didn’t want to be in the med lab anymore, and that she hadn’t wanted to be alone. Both of which were not far from the truth.
Evading Logan had been the hard part. The man was always around. But a call from General Fury a few hours earlier had given Ororo the opportunity she was looking for. Logan wouldn’t be back until morning.
Ali shook her head again, refusing the offer of payback. “Don’t worry about it. Just be safe, Stormy.”
Ororo nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I think you’re a fucking retard for doing this.”
“Then why help me?”
“Because you’re my retard, and I love you. If this is what you need to do to get over what happened, then this is what you need to do.” Ali embraced her carefully. “Be safe,” she repeated.
“I’ll call when I can.” Storm pushed open Ali’s large bay window. She gave Ali an impromptu kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Alison Blaire. You do far more than Dazzle. You radiate.” With that she was gone.
Ali watched Ororo float away, wiping her eyes. She gave a disbelieving chuckle. “Damn bitch made me cry,” she shook her head. Man, she needed a drink.
Present
The main room was pitch dark when Ororo finally emerged from the bathroom, the dream evoked thunderstorm long passed.
She set her small bag beside the door atop her larger duffel for easy access while she mentally reviewed where she was heading next. Satisfied that she knew the way, she patted her back pocket, ensuring that her calling card was there. She’d call Ali from the payphone on her way out.
“What the hell are you doin’?”
Ororo went still, afraid to turn around. She did so slowly. In the pitch black darkness she could barely see the bulky form straddling one of two kitchen chairs. Silent as a predator he sat in the shadows, watching her. “Wolverine.”
There was a faint swish as Logan swirled the beer in the bottle dangling from his fingers. “Y’know, I never figured you for the type ta tuck tail and run,” he said almost nonchalantly.
Ororo stiffened. “What are you doing here, Wolverine?”
The scrape of wood on tile told her that he was standing. “Takin’ you home.”
Ororo turned and fumbled for the door knob. If she could get outside, she could fly--SLAM! Her head shot up as a muscular arm appeared alongside of her, slamming the door shut, and Logan’s hard unyielding body blocked her backwards retreat.
“Let me out,” Ororo said between clenched teeth.
“Talk to me.” Logan’s breath stirred the hair beside her ear and for the briefest instance he closed his eyes, inhaling her unique scent. He doubted most people even noticed how she smelled. It wasn’t overt, but subtle, beneath the sandalwood and vanilla, there lay the scent of earth and rain.
Breathing seemed difficult for her. He was close, too close. She wanted to turn into those warm strong arms and cry. To hold him and let him hold her. To bury her face in his neck and know that she was safe…
Weak.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She kept her gaze on the door, her hand on the knob.
“Like hell.” Logan growled. “Why’d you leave?”
“All right, let me rephrase that. There is nothing I want to talk about.”
He tried to turn her away from the door. “Look at me.”
“No.”
He relented, but didn’t back away. His voice was softly gruff when he spoke. “I can’t even begin to understand what yer goin’ through, darlin’. But that don’t mean I can’t listen. Come back to the school, ‘Roro. Ya don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not.”
Logan moved around her and leaned into the door, pressing his back to it. “You don’t have ta pretend.” Unexpectedly, he reached to touch her hair, his fingertips gentle as he brushed it away from her face.
Ororo slapped his hand away, her composure faltering. “You want to know why I left? That’s why!”
Logan took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t think. I won’t touch you--”
Ororo’s voice shook. “Stop apologizing to me. And for crying out loud, stop being so fucking nice!”
Logan appeared startled by the vehemence in her voice. “Come again?”
Ororo spun around, walking to the bed and sitting on the corner. “You.” She waved her hand accusingly. “Stop it.”
He shook his head. “Ya’ve lost me.”
Ororo rubbed her temples wearily. She never should have opened her mouth.
“It’s understandable that you’d be upset after…what happened to you.”
“You mean being raped?”
Logan flinched. “Yeah. But that fucker can never hurt you again. He died.”
Ororo nodded. She had figured that much out on her own the day General Fury called for Logan. After what Jean had told her Logan had done to Sabertooth, she wasn‘t surprised. “The reason I left had nothing to do with Sabertooth.”
Logan ran one hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “Then what the fuck are ya doin’?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
A low rumble came from the shadows. “Ororo. I am trying to be patient, but yer pushin’ it. I’ve spent the past week and a half trackin’ yer ass down, and I’m tired and hungry. Now get yer shit, and let‘s go.”
She rose shakily to her feet. “No.”
“Damn it, ‘Ro. You can barely fuckin’ stand.” He held one hand out towards her. “Come home so I can take care of you.”
Lightening flashed outside and Ororo’s eyes took on an eerie glow. “I don’t need you to take care of me!” she shouted, her composure splintering beneath his gentle concern.
“Calm down.”
“Leave, Wolverine.”
Wolverine snarled, his patience gone. He had spent too many sleepless nights hunting for her, plagued by horrible images to simply shrug and say ‘oh well’ and go back home empty handed.
His heart had damn near exploded from his chest the night he‘d gone back to the Institute only to find out that Ororo was staying with Ali and he was unable to check in on her. The next morning he had been jolted awake by Cyclops bursting through his bedroom door, exclaiming that Ororo was missing.
Dread had warred with anger for the better part of the past week and he was in no mood to have Ororo pull this shit. He stepped directly in front of her. “Not without you.”
She shoved at his chest. “I don’t need you!” Thunder rumbled outside.
“Ya ever think maybe I need you?” he demanded
harshly, gripping her upper arms, surprising both of them.
Ororo blinked. “What?”
Logan released her and took a step back. They stared at each other in the dark. He slowly walked along side of the bed. Ororo followed him with her eyes. She felt the bed dip behind her under his weight, then his arms were slipping beneath hers, circling her waist and his legs moved against the outside of hers. He had enveloped her.
Ororo trembled, her back ramrod straight.
“I think I must have been a good man once.” Logan murmured. He rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling behind her ear. “I don’t remember much, but I think I remember that.” His voice was tinged with faint bitterness. “It’s never been something I talk about. I figure, fuck it, can’t change it, right? Why dwell on it. But then the nightmares come.”
Unwittingly Ororo allowed herself to lean back against Logan, listening to the rough timbre of his voice. “I hate the nightmares,” she whispered.
“Me too.” Logan admitted. “It’s never a good feeling, feeling helpless.”
Logan felt helpless? The Wolverine, mutant of legend, felt helpless?
“In my dreams, I am surrounded by fuckers that torture me, but I can never make out their faces. Just fuzzy blobs. All I can smell is blood, all I can hear is the sound of my on screaming. Sometimes I think it will never end.”
Ororo bit her lip, her chest tightened and her heart ached for the stoic warrior that was willing to bare his soul to help her heal hers. “I hate feeling like that. Helpless and terrified. When Sabertooth attacked me I wanted to fight. I did want to, but instead I...I just gave up.” She pressed her face into his neck. “I was willing to lay there on the ground and die. I felt…so weak. So small.”
“The man was a highly trained killing machine, darlin’. Not many people would stand a chance against that.”
“I could have fried him,” she argued. “I tried to call down lightening, but I missed. I was so scared. All I could hear was my heartbeat pounding in my head. Then he was touching me. Hurting me. I couldn’t move. The ropes were so tight. Then I could feel him…inside…and I felt so helpless. Like my body was no longer my own. I just wanted to die…I think I tried to.”
Logan‘s breathing had become more agitated as she spoke, but otherwise he remained silent as she recalled.
“I should have been more prepared. It’s my fault.”
Ororo tilted her head back against his shoulder, her eyes swimming. “You are not to blame.”
Logan traced his fingertips along her face gently. “Neither are you.”
“I’m supposed to be an X-Man. I’m supposed to be strong.”
“You are.”
“I’m weak.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Look at me, sitting in the dark, crying.”
Without a word Logan laced his fingers through hers, lifting her hand to his whiskered cheek, and the moisture there.
The last vestige of reservation crumbled and Ororo felt deep shudders wracking her body as she cried.
Logan turned her in his arms, swinging her legs over his, cradling her and rocking slightly, all the while holding her close, not saying a word, simply being with her in the dark.
Rain splattered the windows, and wind howled. Thunder rumbled and lightening flashed.
As the last remnants of the storm faded into the night Ororo, who was still cradled in Logan’s arms, whispered. “You're still a good man.”
