Chapter Four: Far Away
You know, I wanted you to stay
Cause I need to hear you say
I love you, I have loved you all along
And I forgive you, for being away for too long
~Nickelback
The mansion’s extensive repairs had been completed only days ago, leading the school’s staff and family to return once more. The grounds, still covered with a thick blanket of snow, bore no scars of the fierce fire and battle that had sent the occupants running.
Tunza bounded out of the front door the moment Scott opened it, his bark nothing compared to the joyful leaps into the air. Ororo managed to grin at the jubilant pup as she gingerly stepped out of the van that had brought the students and remaining teachers from the airport.
Pausing to open the side doors of the shuttle, releasing the other mutants eager to see their rebuilt home, Ororo knelt to scratch her beloved canine behind the ears.
“Have you missed me, my boy?” she clucked her tongue fondly, scratching his muzzle and neck thoroughly.
“I thought he was going to ruin the Persian when I told him you were all coming home today,” Scott laughed as the pup bolted for the students, taking Rogue to the ground with an enthusiastic leap.
Laughing as well, Ororo limped her way to the rear of the van, opening the hatch with a button on the key. In the two months since the mansion fire, she had worked thrice as hard to regain control of her legs, succeeding in casting away her wheelchair, at last. She depended on a cane if she had to walk far or stand for too long, but the most difficult part of the battle was behind her.
“You should see the classrooms!” Jean gasped, rushing up to the duo still pulling luggage from the rear of the van. “Actual classrooms! It’s beautiful! Oh, you should see the skylight in your rooms!”
“Jean, my darling, breathe,” Ororo teased, slinging her light duffel bag over her shoulder. “Before you hyperventilate and wind up spending our first night home in the infirmary.”
The willowy red head’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t even think to look at the infirmary!”
With that, she rushed off again, reminding Ororo of the teenager she had been. Shaking her head, she shrugged at Scott as he lifted the remaining luggage into his arms.
“Perpetually fifteen years old.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. With all the tempers around here, it’s nice to have someone that shows us the good,” he replied evenly.
Giving him a mock scowl for that little dig, Ororo took her carved mahogany cane and began the short walk into the house. Scott was right behind her, whistling for Tunza and ordering the younger mutants inside before they froze to death.
Ororo did not even have to turn her head to know Iceman grinned before skating along on a plank of ice, his newest trick. She heard Scott’s sigh of frustration and bit her lip to hide a smile. It felt good to be home.
The exterior of the mansion was largely unchanged, but the inside was a sight. Ororo stopped, her mouth falling open in wide-eyed shock as her feet halted on the long carpet leading from the foyer into the main hall.
There was no sign of the fire or the attack, only smooth polished wood and lovingly restored furniture. Photographs had replaced destroyed paintings, most of them of students past and present. Ororo noted the last year’s school photo was on the wall as well, showing a group of very silly students and grinning teachers.
She refused to let her eyes wander from the children to Logan’s foreboding scowl.
Almost three hours, Ororo, that is progress, she thought as she limped away from the pictures, dropping her duffel into the newly repainted den.
The game tables had all been replaced, the sofas now a soft cream color to match new curtains. A television and video gaming system had already been taken control of by a group of young boys, whom all argued over the controllers until they came to an understanding.
Smells of fresh paint and floor cleaners brought her the true sense of being home. Soon, she and Jean would find their way into the kitchen, the very thought of cooking a meal gave her to the urge to peek inside, to see what had been done.
“Oh…” Ororo pulled up short at the doorway, blinking at the now enormous cooking area.
The Professor had completely remodeled the room, giving it nearly twice the space as before. Two more tables accompanied the breakfast nook across from the industrial size stove and ice box. Ororo wanted to set about immediately making dinner, but she thought one o’clock would be a bit early.
There would be many fond memories of this beautiful kitchen. With a small smile, she forced herself to move into the living room, shaking her head at the teenagers, whom were playing with the huge remote control. The lights dimmed, making them all giggle. One of them would undoubtedly break the expensive equipment before the day was out, but that was part of raising children.
With a quiet warning, Ororo moved on, checking the more elaborate security panels before heading for the stairs.
Scott was on the second landing, watching her carefully. “I grabbed your bag. Your room’s on the third floor now.”
Ororo nodded, taking her time with each step, knowing Scott would help her only when and if she asked it of him.
“Why have I been moved?”
“Charles thought you might like a bit more space, and you have a view of the gardens now.”
Raising a white brow, she paused in front of him at the landing. “He still holds hope that Logan will return?”
She watched her friend’s Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Placing her hand on the railing, she continued on up the stairs, causally replying over her shoulder as she left Scott in her wake.
“He is fooling himself.”
They did not speak again as Ororo took the next two flights of stairs. It was slow going, but Scott never once sighed with frustration. She knew, as everyone did, that the very sight of her on her own two feet was still shocking. Most of her dear friends and family considered it nothing short of a miracle.
The truth of it was, that without Logan, Ororo felt she had nothing more to fight for, save herself. She pushed thoughts of him aside, as usual, not wanting to leave herself open for that blasted stab of pain the memory of her lost love conjured in her heart. It was best to simply not dwell on it.
When they reached the third floor, Ororo shook her head again. Jean’s voice wafted down the hall, no doubt going out of her mind with her own new room. Scott chuckled softly from Ororo’s side, pointing to the left side of the hall.
“You’re across from us,” he said softly.
Ororo took careful steps toward the bedroom, inwardly relieved that pain had not begun to creep into her back. She was able to go just a little farther every day.
Her bedroom door was exactly the same as it had been before the fire, but when it swung open, her heart nearly burst in her chest. The open skylight poured bright sunlight into the room, filling it with warmth. Open curtains showcased the new glass doors that led onto the terrace, complete with Tunza’s bed and toy box.
“Oh…oh!” she could scarcely speak as she limped into the room. All of her antique furniture had been restored, though the bed was new. Her dozens of goddess figurines were spread over large bookcases, a polished vanity table, and nightstands. She stood in the center of the soft blue carpet, tears standing in her eyes.
“I guess it’ll do, right?” her friend said from the doorway, laughter in his voice.
“It is beautiful…and it feels enormous!” Ororo looked up to the skylight, closing her eyes and allowing the sun to warm her face.
“Charles and I thought it would help, your claustrophobia’s been acting up and…”
“There is no need to explain. It is perfect. Thank you,” she moved toward the wardrobe, opening the now rust-free brass hinges with a small smile.
“I’ll leave you to unpack. The kids need to get settled too, but you take your time.”
She nodded to him absently as he left. Once the door closed, she allowed herself to pick up her cane and do a little dance of feminine glee, giggling girlishly to herself.
With speed borne of enthusiasm, she rushed around the room, tossing her cane onto the bed so she could inspect the new bathroom. The sunk-in tub nearly screamed at her to climb in for a soothing bath, but she resisted. There would be time for that later.
Unpacking did not take so long as one would expect. Two months at Magneto’s compound had given her time to heal, but not time to shop. She would rope the girls into a trip to the nearby mall one day soon.
Christmas had been lavish, thank in no small part to Erik’s sudden holiday cheer. There had been some talk of battle with the Friends of Humanity, but the majority of their time in his home had been relaxed and easy. A few of the children had even taken to their one-feared host.
Ororo slipped back into the bathroom, placing her toothbrush in the holder and her fresh towels on the rack. She paused, blinking at the holder for a few moments, wondering what seemed so wrong about it.
Logan’s is missing, I wonder where I lef--, she halted the train of thought before she could go much further.
“He is not coming back, Storm, stop torturing yourself.”
Sighing at herself, she moved back into the bedroom, pulling the top drawer open and frowning at it. Logan’s shirts…
“Damn it,” she mumbled, dropping her under things and nightshirts into it before closing the drawer almost violently.
At the bottom of her suitcase, which lay open on the bed now, was the photograph of Logan she had kept all this time. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to the bed, moving the rest of her clothing and taking the picture into her hands.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she lovingly traced the image of her beloved Wolverine. Biting back the sting of tears and the threat of accompanying rain, she took a deep breath. Through all that had happened, no matter how hard she tried to stop, she still loved him.
The night he left Magneto’s compound still haunted her. It had taken hours for Jean to finally subdue her, and while she raged, the elements screamed for her. She had wanted him to hear her pain, to feel it with her.
Had it done either of them any good? No. He never came back to her.
“I miss you,” she whispered to the photograph, running her fingertip over the image of his lips. “I forgive you. Just come home to me.”
With a shuddering breath, she reached over, opening the nightstand drawer to drop the photo into it. She closed the drawer gently, fighting off the knife of longing in her heart. Falling onto her back, paying to heed to the clothing she was wrinkling by lying on it, she looked up into the skylight, reaching into her pocket.
Logan had left his cherished lighter, leaving her to collect it the day after he’d gone. She carried it with her constantly. Bringing it up in her hand, she flicked it open with trained precision, and then closed it. The faint smell of lighter fluid reached her nostrils as she continued, reminding her of him so much it only hurt worse.
Click, clink, click, clink, click, clink
“Come home.”
~@~
She dreamed of him. This was not uncommon. She often dreamed of him in the weeks he had been away. Though, most of the dreams became nightmares, memories of him leaving her.
This time it was more pleasant. They lay together in her bed, talking of everything and nothing in the silence of her room. There was no raging gulf between them, no fear, no doubt. Just the two of them locked in that comforting embrace.
It had been a long time since they had spent that kind of time together. She longed for it in the cold night, when the walls of her room seemed to be made of something stronger than steel, keeping her locked away from the rest of the world.
She woke shivering, alone on her bed. There was the naked fear that she would remain that way forever, that he would never return to claim what was rightfully his.
Hope was scarce for Ororo, though she pined for it with every breath. Each day that ended with her alone chipped away at the lingering hope that he would come back. The others tried to distract her, as they had “ with more success -- at Magneto’s compound .
But here, among the memories of falling in love, memories of him, she was seldom without some sadness in her demeanor. She tried to play it off as back pain, but there was no one in the mansion that truly “bought” that excuse.
Ororo moved about her classroom, peeking at the children’s latest exam. She could already tell which students would do well and which would need to try again. Several of her young pupils had already tossed their pencils down, scowling at the papers on their desks.
Keeping her amused smiles to herself, Ororo completed her rounds, settling near the open windows. With the snow suddenly gone, a soft spring breeze had begun to poke through winter’s chill. It was early March now, meaning the children would soon be able to romp about the grounds without fear of a scolding from one of the teachers.
Restlessness had already set in, making the children more unruly than usual. They had been at the mansion less than a week, but things were returning to normal. Classes had resumed, children had returned. Xavier’s School once again rang with laughter and running footsteps.
The bell rang, signaling the end of daily classes. Some of Ororo’s students groaned, no doubt knowing they had just failed her exam miserably.
“Leave your tests on the desks and have a good weekend. Dismissed,” her voice broke the bitter silence, which shattered moments later with teenage chatter and rustling of backpacks.
Students flooded the halls as she rounded each desk, taking up the papers left behind and stacking them neatly in her arms. She had left her cane upstairs, determined to make it through the day without needing it. Thus far, she had done well, provided she took a seat every few hours.
A soft knock on her classroom door made her turn, smiling brightly at the big, furry mutant as he entered.
“Henry, what brings you to my humble classroom today?”
He smiled back at her, flashing his canines in a way that reminded her of Logan. Shoving that thought aside almost violently, she raised a brow when he held up a medical vial.
“I just need some blood today, sweeting,” he instantly held his hands up in defense. “Not for you, but for my research.”
Ororo had the good nature to roll her eyes with a long-suffering sigh that was more than a little half-hearted. “What is it now?”
Henry bounded gracefully over her student’s desks, landing on his feet in front of her. “Psionics paper for the new medical journal.”
She shook her head in dismay, though her smile softened her teasing sigh. “Oh, all right. You really are a vampire.”
Another canine-showing smile flashed her way as she set the papers down, rolling up the sleeve of her black sweater.
“So you tell me, often,” Henry chuckled, retrieving a syringe and latex band from his pocket.
A tiny needle prick and full vial of her blood later, Henry pressed a cotton swab to her injured flesh and lifted her arm. “Hold this there.”
Ororo rolled her eyes heavenward again. “Yes, Mother.”
At her teasing grin, he laughed again, pocketing his tools and holding the vial of her blood up to the light before shaking it to keep the thick fluid from clotting.
“How is the paper coming along?”
Her blue friend nearly bounced with excitement. “Fairly well, actually! I have been studying the effect of mutations on the mind, both chemically and psychologically. It is truly fascinating to see how much our mutations depend on a proper mental adjustment.”
Raising a white brow, she cleared her throat. “I am sure Jean appreciates being the center of your attention.”
He had the grace to blush under his blue fur. “Yes, well, she has been a very good sport.”
Ororo patted his fuzzy shoulder soothingly. “She is a doctor as well, I am certain she is just as interested in learning about her own mutations.”
Henry nodded. “She has learned a few things about herself, yes. But the goal, my dear weather witch, is to learn about each of us. Would you mind a romp in the Danger Room later?”
She chuckled, nodding her agreement. “While hooked up to your machines? Of course, my dear.”
He kissed her quickly on the cheek, flipping his enormous, yet agile body backward and landing on a nearby desk. “Then, perhaps we can have dinner? You should get out more.”
Ororo paused, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Not tonight, Henry.”
There was a weighted pause. She knew he wanted to say something and begged that he came out with it so she could escape. Everyone had an opinion where Logan was concerned. Jean was just as sure as Scott that he had finally left them all for good. Rogue and Bobby ranted almost constantly that Logan was off doing something for himself, but would return to his family.
Only Henry, whom had known Logan the least amount of time, was steadfast in his belief that Logan had not left them of his own accord. He preached on endlessly that their friend was either working for the Professor and Magneto or had gone off in search of some truth.
While she admired his loyalty, she was not in the mood to discuss it.
“Perhaps another time, then?”
Relieved, Ororo nodded, not addressing his sorrowful tone. “Perhaps.”
As her friend turned to leave, he called over his shoulder. “The Danger Room in an hour?”
“I will be there.”
Once he was gone, Ororo reached into the neck of her sweater, pulling out the thin lightning bolt necklace Logan had given her all those months ago. Watching the light flicker off of the beautiful pendant, she sighed.
“Damn you.”
Forcing herself to get back to work, she continued collecting the exams, taking her thin briefcase from under her desk before closing up the classroom.
“Miss Munroe!”
“Yes, Artie?” she looked about for the tiny boy, spotting him waving her over from the living room.
“You have to see this!” he called, bouncing over to take her bag and papers, tugging on her hand.
“All right, there is no need to pull me, Artie!” she laughed gently, letting him drag her into the living room.
The television was surrounded by at least a dozen students, most of them with their backpacks still on their shoulders. The volume was so loud, it nearly hurt her ears, but pleas for them to turn it down were ignored.
She perched on the armrest of the sofa, reaching over to make a newer student crouch down so she could see by pressing on the top of his head. Blinking at the screen, she noted the slow ticker on the bottom of a news broadcast.
“Anti-Mutant Riot kills four”
Gasping, she scrambled for the remote control, turning it up just a bit louder.
A tall, thin female reporter she recognized as Patricia Tilby was speaking into her microphone as people carrying various signs screamed behind her.
“Here in Canon County North Dakota an Anti-Mutant riot, which has raged at full force since just after dawn this morning, has been the site of four, yes, four deaths. Two mutants, unidentified at this time, were shot and killed just yards from where I am standing. In retaliation, two of the protestors were stabbed to death. There have no arrests at this time, of either Mutants or others.”
The screen split instantly, showing the anchorman with a frown on his face.
“There were rumors that an underground militia calling themselves “Friends of Humanity” are responsible for these protests, which have gotten worse over the last two months. Has anyone there been identified as such, Trish?”
Tilby was silent for a few moments as the feed reached her.
“At this time, none of the protestors claim to be a part of any such group, but I wouldn’t count it out. Canon County is an Anti-Mutant hot spot, breeding several new groups every year.”
“Have you managed to get any of the eye witnesses to speak to you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have one here. Mr. Paul Cassidy.”
The reporter moved aside, showing a tall blonde man wearing a t-shirt with the logo blurred out by the network. Ororo frowned at the image, wondering if she had seen him somewhere before. Perhaps during one of the attacks several months ago.
“It was those damn muties!” the man instantly shouted into the microphone.
Before he could continue, a set of hands gripped the back of his shirt and he was dragged away from the camera. Gasping, the reporter ordered the cameraman to follow them. A few blurred images later, the camera focused on the blonde man being dragged away by--
“Logan.”
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