Chapter Ten: Waiting
She’d been staring at him for what felt like hours.
Lying in her bed, warm dawn light pouring through the skylight. There was silence all around her, except the soft snoring of the man beside her. She rested her hand on his bare chest, absently counting the gentle rise and fall as he breathed.
He no longer bore the scars and blood of battle, he resembled her long-gone lover more than ever now. Snuggled into the soft sheets of her bed, hair mussed by his movements on the down-filled pillow. This was her Logan, the man she had once thought was lost to her forever.
While she wanted to prod him awake, to just hear his voice as further confirmation that they were both alive and blissfully home, she refrained. It was a rare gift, watching him this way. When his guard was down and he could hide nothing.
There. He smiled in his sleep. Ororo shifted a little closer, her nose nearly touching his on the pillow they shared. She wondered what he was dreaming of. His sleep had been free of nightmares…perhaps he knew he had finally returned to his home.
Thinking back to the storm she had created to protect them, she winced. Waking to the sound of gunfire, her exhausted body wanting to simply slip back into darkness…very little had ever terrified as that had. He had voiced his need, that he could not save them.
Finally, after all this time, she had been able to rescue him, to return the favor.
Ororo slid her hand around his waist, pressing her body closer to his, reveling in the warmth and security she could still find there. When he woke, she was sure there would be things to say. For now, this simple embrace only strengthened her resolve to win him back completely.
“You smell like rain.”
Startled by the sudden, sleepy voice, Ororo pulled back a little, looking at the face of her love. He was smiling, his eyes still closed, though his nose twitched.
“So you continue to tell me.”
He hummed contently, one of his arms snaking around her waist to draw her closer.
“Am I dreaming?”
Ororo’s smile widened. “No, my Logan. We are home.”
“Nah,” he replied. “Too good to be true. I think I’ll stay asleep a while longer. Keep this nice dream.”
She chuckled softly, shifting in his arms. “Do I have to prove that I am truly here?”
He nodded, his eyes never opening. “Uh-huh.”
Her lips brushed his softly, her legs entwining with his.
“No, have to do better than that, darlin’.”
“Hrmm,” she pretended to think a moment before she pushed off from the bed, straddling his naked thighs under the blankets. His hands immediately came up to grip her hips.
Gently pulling up the silk of her nightgown that had become trapped between them, she fitted her already wet center against his awakening arousal. Rewarded by a soft groan from her lover, she rocked her hips languidly.
“That’s…better…” he grunted, his eyes still closed.
Taking his hands with hers, she brought them up to her silk-covered breasts, biting her lip when he instantly set to massaging them, pulling the material down to fit flesh against flesh.
They had already begun rocking together, eager for the bit of friction her movements had given them. Ororo let her head fall back, the exhaustion from her ordeal and escape seeming to evaporate as Logan’s strong hands traveled over her welcoming body.
Unable to bother taking it slow, she reached between them, taking the hard length of him into her hand. With one slow stroke, Logan groaned loudly, his hips arching up to meet hers.
“Darlin’…” he gasped. “Want you.”
With a swell of feminine pride, she continued to draw her hand over him, her mouth falling open at the look of ecstasy on his face. His head fell back against the pillows, his hands never leaving the curves of her body.
“I do not believe you,” she teased, swiping her thumb over the moist tip of his erection.
He growled in response, his lips parted as his breath hitched in his chest. He never looked so beautiful than when she had him locked in passion. She had missed seeing him this way. Even a brief taste in Indiana had only wetted her appetite further.
“’Ro, I want to be inside ya so bad it hurts…” he groaned.
Ororo felt herself grow hotter, no doubt wetting him as her own desires grew. Lifting her body gently onto her knees, she drew him closer, fitting him against her opening.
Logan’s entire face was screwed into an expression of pain and pleasure. Deciding to end his torture, she lowered herself onto his arousal, gasping when he slid into place easily.
His eyes opened immediately, meeting hers and flashing with all of the desire and love she had missed. Before he could speak, Ororo rocked her hips sharply. Logan thrust upward to meet her, his hands falling back to her hips, guiding her gently.
The squeak of her bedsprings grew louder as they moved together. Gasping, groaning, they upped tempo with every thrust. Ororo could feel him deep inside her, stroking the secret places only he could find. He pushed her higher, the scent of sex and the sound of their skin slapping together only making it more real.
When languid desire finally broke into uncontrollable passion, Ororo braced both of her hands on Logan’s hard chest. Lifting herself, his hands guiding her, she took him all the way inside of her again and again.
Logan struggled to sit up under her, his hands sliding from her hips, up her back until he cupped her shoulders. His lips met hers in a desperate kiss, searing her from head to toe. Greedy hands kept her in place as he lifted her effortlessly, controlling the pace. She could feel him growl against her lips, then whimper, as though caught between feral and longing.
Her breasts pressed against his chest, she could feel the frantic beating of his heart, completely oblivious to the howling wind that swirled around them. The curtains on her large terrace doors flapped about wildly, matching the freedom she felt in Logan’s arms.
Her lover pulled back just as her pleasure reached that unfathomable precipice, white-hot flame licking through her.
“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, those soulful eyes trained on hers.
Unable to respond, the waves of her climax crashed over her, incredibly harsh and infinitely tender at the same time. She fell forward, surrendering into his arms.
With a final grunt, his stiffened beneath her, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly, holding her even as she completely collapsed against him. He held her as he fell back against the pillows, keeping them joined as they came down from the sexual high.
For a long time, there was silence. Ororo, through her post-coital haze, could feel the subtle change in Logan. She could feel the muscles seize in his arms, the way his heartbeat slowed, his breathing deep.
Goddess, not again, she thought in the futile hope that someone would hear her.
She pulled away, looking down into the now-guarded eyes she loved and knew so well. He was doing it again already, hiking up that invisible armor it had taken her years to chip away.
This time, she wanted to fight, to scream as she had the night he’d left her. But she knew him better than anyone. A fight was exactly what he wanted, an excuse to push her away while he worked everything out in his head.
Instead, Ororo dropped their locked gaze, gathered the sheet around her nude form and slid out of her bed, out of his arms.
She turned from him, tucked the sheet around her chest to hold it in place.
“’Ro.”
Ignoring the soft call of her name, wanting to give in to his silent demand that she help him push her back from the sacred walls of his heart, she raised her arms.
The instant her feet should have touched the concrete of her terrace, she took to the air.
~@~
Scott was waiting for her when she returned to the mansion. He held out a pair of jeans and an over-sized sweatshirt bearing the “X” symbol associated with the school.
He turned his back as she set her feet on the snow-free ground.
“Thank you,” she said coolly, pulling the clothing on and balling up the wet sheet she had been wrapped in.
Tunza barked merrily, turning from his daily inspection of the gardens to acknowledge his mistress before tearing off after an unfortunate rabbit or rodent. She watched the enormous Mastiff with a small smile for a long moment, not surprised at her friend’s silence.
Scott took a seat on a nearby picnic table, resting his booted feet on the bench and his elbows on his knees. The ruby-red of his protective eyewear glimmered in the morning sunlight as she took a seat next to him, her feet oblivious to the cold.
“Heard the wind a few hours ago, thought you and Wolverine were…” he coughed shyly. “Making up.”
Ororo kept a blush from her cheeks by sheer will, turning slightly from her careful watch on Tunza to arch an eyebrow at her friend.
“Then, a while ago, he comes downstairs all snarls and “fuck offs”, thought maybe you’d need someone to talk to.”
She sat for a moment, returning her gaze to the happy pooch while she gathered her thoughts. Hours in the air had done her temper some good, giving her room to haul up that icy exterior Logan tended to bulldoze whenever he was near.
“It is not easy,” she began at last, knowing whatever was said between them would remain that way. “It is difficult to love a man so tortured and saturated in self-loathing.”
Her friend did not turn his eyes to her, likely knowing it would make it harder for her to speak if he did.
“It’s not easy loving anyone, Storm,” he sighed. “But it’s harder when you come to a relationship with excess baggage.”
She waited for him to continue, taking the ball Tunza brought for her and tossing it back toward the frigid gardens. He chased it merrily, wrestling his foe and rolling in the grass for a few minutes before returning the ball to her for a repeat performance.
“I’m the first to talk shit about him, Storm, I admit it,” Scott’s voice was quiet, filled with that brotherly patience he had demonstrated with her so often. “But you didn’t see him That Night.”
Ororo’s breath caught in her throat. Scott had never spoken, to anyone, about the incident they all referred to as “That Night”. It was avoided by most, at all costs. No one, save Logan and Scott, knew exactly how Ororo had been found inside the mangled Mini Cooper. Neither man, as though acting on some Masculine Bylaw only men were privy to, had ever so much has brought it up.
Until now.
“He was like a madman when you took off like that. I’d never seen him that wound up. Worried, pissed off, scared out of his mind,” he stopped, the emotion thick in his voice.
“When we saw the accident scene, he took off into the woods. I was right behind him…I heard him start screaming. It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard. Broken, enraged, hopeless…
“Look, he’d said. Look what they did,” Scott turned his red eyes to her, but she continued staring straight ahead. “He wouldn’t let you go.”
Her eyes closed, lashes brushing tears down her cheeks. She remembered some of it, the unintelligible scream…that had been Logan. She tried to imagine herself in those shoes, remembering the shocking sight of Logan’s bullet-riddled form asking for her help.
“I let them capture me,” she said quietly.
The ruby eyes seemed to burn her, but she continued as though she did not notice, wondering why this beautifully chilly day seemed ripe for confessions.
“The first time it was to spite him, you, everyone. It was petty and it nearly cost me my life,” she exhaled slowly. “I failed to anticipate the angle of the slope.”
“In North Dakota, I left Logan behind against his better judgment. I had only gone a few miles when I realized I was being followed. I crashed the bike “ your bike “ so I could help him.”
“That was stupid.”
“I know,” she admitted softly. “I could not let him go, my friend. Through all that has happened and will likely happen in the future, I love him. I refused to allow him to fight alone. Ever.”
Her friend’s lips split into a slow, bemused smile. “Don’t know how many times I’ve said the same to Jean. Especially when she’s grappling with her mutations.”
Ororo reached over, touching his hand gently. While she was normally not tactile, he did not shy away from the touch, nor did he call attention to it.
“He left because he had to,” Scott winced. “That hurt. Anyway, I don’t want you…”
“I know why he left, Scott,” she replied, interrupting him. “I do not hold it against him, for various reasons.”
“Then what…?”
She sighed, clasping her hands together and studying the horizon under the steadily brightening sun. “Whatever is eating him on the inside has to do with what happened in Colorado. His sojourn into the Friends of Humanity was merely a distraction.”
Her friend was quiet for several moments before he murmured. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“When he is ready, he will talk about it. If I push or pull away, we will return to the same state we were in before he left.”
“So, you’ll wait?”
“I will wait forever.”
There were no more words after that. In companionable silence, Ororo and Scott watched Tunza play in the sun until Jean called them inside for lunch.
~@~
Three days after Ororo and Logan had returned to the mansion, she knelt in the small greenhouse set aside for her personal use, inspecting her lily bulbs carefully. She had donned an old pair of jeans, so worn they were down soft and a t-shirt Rogue had given her last year. Jean had helped her wash the dark dye from her hair, returning it to the signature white she had missed.
The children were playing in the warm afternoon sunlight, their shouts and laughter filtered in through the open greenhouse door over the sultry tones of Loreena McKennitt.
She loved the smell of earth and growth in the greenhouse, especially in the very beginnings of spring. Her planting would have to be done soon, preparing the gardens for the growing season was a task she took on fully.
Last season, she had been confined to her wheelchair and unable to participate. This year, however, she would be elbow-deep in dirt for days at a time. Smiling, humming along to the dreamy tune of Tango to Evora, Ororo settled her lily bulb into the pot, satisfied with how it had weathered the cold.
Replacing the tray of small pots on the shelf, she turned to the herb seedlings she had begun for Jean. Her dear friend was in dire need of a few more fresh herbs for her kitchen. She gently traced the tiny, budding mint leaves, inhaling the sweet fragrance over the musky scent of damp earth.
Somehow, being in here, alone among the slow cycle of growth, was calming in ways she could never fully explain. She had a deep and abiding love for watching things grow. Perhaps that explained her attachment to her students. Watching them mature and grow was as fascinating as nurturing her plants to bud.
There was something in the process of creation that would never cease to hold her in rapture.
“This is certainly a wonderful crop,” came a cheerful voice from the door.
Ororo grinned softly, beckoning her friend closer by crooking a dirty finger at him. “I have something for you.”
Henry bounced over to her, nearly clapping with his delight. Of all the X-Men, only Henry shared her love of green plants, of the life contained within them.
She selected the sprawling fern she had set aside for her friend and winked at him. Perhaps it appealed to the beast beneath the man, but Henry adored wild plants that would choke an entire mansion should it be allowed free rule.
Her friend gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his furry, blue chest. “My dear Ororo, this is beautiful.”
Smiling brightly, she presented him with the glossy fern. “It is one that grew from the cuttings you brought me from Maine.”
Beast took the plant with a look of awe, leaning over to kiss her cheek gently. “I knew you could create something from those tiny cuttings. My, this will be perfect to hang in my bedroom window.”
Ororo nodded. “It will like the rising sun, actually. The eastern window will be perfect.”
Before Henry could reply, Bobby and Artie fell into the greenhouse, narrowly missing a towering rack filled with freshly planted seedlings. Ororo’s hands flew up, cushioning the boys’ fall with a gentle gust of wind.
“Boys!” she scolded, gliding over to them with a scowl on her face that would rival her Wolverine.
Both young men scrambled to their feet, looking sheepish, flushed, and as though they were thoroughly enjoying whatever they had been up to.
“Nice catch, Storm,” Artie offered meekly, biting back what she suspected were peals of laughter.
Bobby nudged him sharply in the side, glancing over his shoulder when entreating calls sounded from behind him.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect that pass to go quite that long,” he grinned, shouting back. “I thought Jean would throw like a girl!”
Ororo had to bite back a laugh at the affronted screech she knew belonged to her friend. “What in the world are you up to?”
Bobby produced a football from behind his back. The weathered ball looked ready to fall apart after years of use. There were other, newer balls, she knew. Somehow, the old favorite was always dragged out for friendly games.
With Henry trailing behind her, she followed the boys out of the greenhouse, watching them trot off to rejoin the game. Jean, Rogue, Jubliee and several others scrambled to resume their positions. Ororo coughed to conceal her laughter when she spotted her dear friend’s messy ponytail, the spaces under her eyes covered with a light-absorbing paint.
“Who is winning?” Ororo asked of Charles, whom had taken up residence on the sidelines and was watching the game with unguarded amusement.
He smiled up at her, indicating to Scott’s “Boys” team. “Unfortunately, the men. However, the girls are short a player.”
“Cause girls are sissies!” she heard Scott call out.
Jean seemed to growl, digging her heels in as she squared off against her fiancé.
Ororo’s eyebrow arched quickly and she un-tucked her t-shirt. “Is that so, Mr Summers?”
“Uh-oh,” Artie chortled. “Here comes Miss Munroe.”
“Do be careful,” Henry murmured as she turned to him with a wink.
“I will be, I promise,” she kissed his cheek and called for a time-out, racing onto the “field” to join her friends.
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