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The next few weeks of summer drifted by quicker than Ororo would have guessed. She’d been so busy with the demands of work and the ins and outs of a new relationship that she hadn’t had the time to wish for time to move any faster. It had stood stock still after they’d lowered Jonathan into the ground.

Relationship. That’s what they each called it now. It had started innocently enough in the beginning. One dinner together led to occasional phone calls after her shift was over, a TV/DVD night every now and again, or watching Jubilee play softball. Ororo helped Logan install new smoke and carbon monoxide detectors in his apartment in exchange for making her dinner one night. When Ororo worked night shifts, Logan made sure Chuckles got out for his evening walk, finally reaching an understanding that if Logan kept the pace quick enough and took him for a full-steam jog, then Chuckles had to promise not to wrap him around any telephone poles or mailboxes.

Ororo and Jubilee, strangely enough, bonded in a way that Logan never could have foreseen when he initially introduced them. Jubes had appointed herself his “girlfriend filter and bullshit detector” shortly after Mariko died, and Logan had learned to rely on her instincts. When Logan found his head turned by a stunning rack or sultry pair of bedroom eyes, Jubilee was there to remind him “Her hairdo looks like she spent this month’s rent money on it,” or “I hate to tell you this, but this one laughs like a hyena.”

Logan had also become very, very choosy about who he brought home, mainly because Jubilee lived under his roof. Anyone who shared his bed, particularly a woman who sought to make it into anything more meaningful had to realize that he and Jubes were a package deal. Love me, love my goddaughter. Fast and simple rule.

Even now, Logan chuckled to himself in the kitchen as he listened to Ororo and Jubilee carrying on over their purchases in the living room. They sat on the couch amidst a sea of plastic shopping bags on one of Ororo’s rare, precious days off. Logan stirred the stir-fry in his heavy skillet, adding more black pepper and teriyaki sauce. The rice was already done and covered with a lid on the back burner. The opening music sequence to “Smallville” carried into the kitchenette as Jubilee pawed through the largest shopping bag, producing a big shoebox.

“I’m SO psyched that we got these! I’m taking you with me every time I go shopping for shoes, ‘Ro!” Ororo chuckled at her use of the nickname that kind of came out of nowhere one day. Jubilee talked a mile a minute, only stopping for breath when the need for oxygen became too great to ignore, and Ororo found her name abbreviated to “Ro” one day when Jubilee was in the process of dragging her into the living room one day to watch the MTV Music Awards, and didn’t want to waste any time getting back to the couch. “Ro, ya’ve gotta check this out!!!” Logan marveled at her patience, even her affectionate smile as she sat through the next couple of hours of grating music and guest appearances of celebrities that he couldn’t bother to keep straight himself.

He had found himself grating out that same short, sweet syllable in the throes of another night of passion hours later, and realized that it felt right rolling off of his tongue. He chanted it into her hair, husking it in her ear, whispering it against her heated flesh. “Ro…Ro! Need you, Ro, oh God, come for me!” She responded to her name, to his touch with no reserve, giving all that she had. So it stuck. That was that.

Logan peeked over his shoulder at the shoes that they had bought, wondering to himself what had happened to the daintier, more feminine slipper-style shoes that used to be the fashion, once upon a time. Why did teenage girls have to stomp around in grungy combat boots and orthopedic looking lug-heels? Logan supposed that was the least of his problems, though. At least Jubilee honored his wishes and kept her makeup down to a minimum, but he didn’t reign in her enthusiasm for gaudy blue eye shadow. It beat seeing her in various piercings and come-hither eyeliner and dark lips like some of her peers. The girl had spunk and a youthful spirit that always made him wonder what having a daughter of his own would have been like, had things been different.

As if sensing his thoughts, Ororo smiled over at him and shrugged, murmuring “It was either these, or a pair of platform heels tall enough for her to fall off of. We compromised. And they should last for most of the next two seasons,” she reassured him.

“Works for me,” he grinned back. Logan brought the skillet to the table and set it on a trivet with a serving spoon. Ororo came over to help him, bringing down glasses and mixing a pitcher of instant lemonade. The errant thought crossed her mind that she knew Logan’s kitchen better than her own. It had been unintentional; she’d been spending so much time here that it began to feel like a second home.

When she was home, though, alone, she had more time to ponder things between them in more detail.

He was widowed. Mariko had been the love of his life for many, many years. She was a scholar from a well-off family and had a close relationship with her father before she married Logan. His nationality and career created friction between him and his father-in-law, who resented his daughter’s adamant insistence at marrying a foreigner in the military. Since Ororo had no family left, it at least left that playing field open, but she still sometimes wished that she had more history of herself to share with him. More impressions of herself from people who loved and cared for her to fortify his perception of her. Even just for the little things: Ororo always used to wander off whenever we went to the store, she was such a little stinker. This was Ororo’s prom picture. Ororo only weighed six pounds when she was born, but she had such long feet, we knew she’d be tall…

Ororo maintained a strict personal policy of living out of her suitcase when she left to be with Logan and Jubilee. One, because it felt practical. Two, she didn’t want to be presumptuous. Three, she didn’t want Jubilee to feel as though she were invading her territory and “playing house.” And four…damn it.

And four…if she and Logan shared a closet space, kept their toothbrushes in the same cup, and began holding hands in the produce aisle of the grocery store, they were crossing a point of no return. That strong “connection” between them that had been tugging and pulling at her whenever she thought of him would change into something deeper and so much more complicated. It was those very same complications that twisted her gut into swirling mush: Ororo didn’t want to scare him away.

Jubilee plunked herself next to Ororo and pointed to the screen. “I’m so in love with Tom Welling. Just look at those eyes.” She studied Ororo for a second. “They’re almost the same color as yours. You’re so lucky, Ororo.” That was the other thing; Jubilee had a funny habit of telling her how lucky she was for one thing or another. “You’re so lucky to have a cute dog like Chuckles, we can’t keep one here. You’re so lucky you can drive already. You’re so lucky you can stay up all night.” It was weird seeing her own life through Jubilee’s eyes. Weird, but wonderful.

“They got me a lot of attention that I sometimes didn’t want when I was a kid.” That, and of course her signature white hair.

“Where did you live again?” Jubilee cracked her gum.

“Harlem.”

“Wow. Did kids pick on you or something?”

“Every day.”

“But you’re so pretty.”

“They weren’t in the habit of letting me know that one way or the other, and it made it worse that I didn’t think so, they knew they could use that against me. And high school boys don’t often ask the tallest girl in the gym to dance.” And they hadn’t. Whenever Aerosmith’s “Dream On” came on the radio, Ororo had frustrating little flashbacks to how hard the bleachers felt under her butt when all of the other girls slow-dragged around the floor.

“They were shitheads, then. Sheesh!”

“Language, Jubes,” Logan warned.

“Well, they were,” she whined.

“Yeah, they were. Just watch yer mouth, punkin’.”

That’s nothing I haven’t heard around the fire station, working with a bunch of guys. Ororo beamed at Jubilee and rubbed her arm, appreciating the sentiment behind what she’d said. Logan called them to eat and took a moment to peek at Jubilee’s school clothes and accessories, grunting in approval that they were age-appropriate and practical. He did, however, laugh out loud at the pink T-shirt that said “Boys eat their own boogers.” Logan wondered fleetingly if Mariko would have approved. Yup, she probably would.

After Smallville was over and the dinner dishes were cleared, Ororo sat at the dinette table and patiently allowed Jubilee to experiment with the new barrettes and other booty they’d scored at Claire’s Boutique, combing Ororo’s long white hair and braiding it into plaits of varying thicknesses, securing little butterfly clips and making Ororo feel like a Christmas tree. Logan was jealous at the easy rapport they shared, and craved the feel of Ororo’s hair sifting through his fingers again, free from all the girlish little clips. A faint sensation of heat and tightness pooled in his loins, making his jeans fit more snugly. Ororo looked up at him helplessly from time to time, verbally agreeing with Jubilee “Sure, it probably would look neat with a zigzag part, why not?” even as her cerulean eyes begged him “Help!”

“None of my other friends let me do this with their hair,” Jubes complained, cracking her gum. “I love it when you come over, ‘Ro.”

“Me, too, sweetie,” Ororo replied, her voice full of surprise and feeling. Logan didn’t miss the misty sheen in her eyes and quiver in her smile.

“Soooo,” she continued, and Logan mentally kicked himself for not discussing things with Jubilee sooner, Lord help him, in hindsight, “what if you stayed here? With me and Logan?”

“Uhhh…well, Jubes, that’s not…something we’ve discussed.”

Logan cleared his throat. Loudly. “That ain’t the kind of question ya just dump over a person’s head like a bucket of water, Half-Pint. ‘Ro’s got a home of her own, a dog that needs space. It’s kinda up ta her where she wants ta live, since she’s a grown-up an’ all.” Logan felt prickles of chilly anticipation running down his back, making the hairs on his neck stand on end, which did nothing to alleviate the butterflies in his stomach.

Hoo, boy.

Jubilee prattled on, ignoring the next awkward moments of heavy silence that hung between her godfather and his girlfriend. Ororo winced as Jubilee’s comb snagged on a small tangle of waves. “Ooh, sorry if I hurt ya, ‘Ro. Didn’t mean to. But still, you guys wouldn’t have to always plan out when ‘Ro’s gonna be here, because she just would, already.”

“There’s a little more to it than that…” Ororo hedged. Logan’s eyes were thoughtful. On the one hand, he wanted to rescue her from the onslaught of prying questions.

On the other hand, part of him took great satisfaction and comfort in hearing his little “girlfriend filter” ask all of the really embarrassing questions he’d been too damned gutless to bring up himself. She must have gotten that trait from Yukio, God bless her.

“Well, it’s just nice when you’re here, ‘Ro.” Jubilee didn’t elaborate much, sticking with the easy stuff. “It’s nice having another girl in the house. Especially one who understands the importance of keeping chocolate in the house for emergencies. And Spongebob. Logan’s last girlfriend asked me why ‘everyone’s so crazy about Spongebob,’ as though that was even worth saying out loud. Talk about blasphemy!”

“Shame on her,” Ororo agreed soothingly. Sure, Logan had had other girlfriends prior to the day they met. She didn’t necessarily want the details, but…hearing Jubilee give her the dirt on the ones that Logan allowed to “get away” was fun, in an evil, selfish little way. Ororo tsked at herself and leaned her head to the left to allow Jubilee to select another hank of hair. Logan stifled a laugh as he reached into the refrigerator for a beer, hoping he would only need one to get through the rest of the conversation. Ororo noticed the faint blush that crept into his cheeks as soon as Jubilee uttered “Logan’s last girlfriend.”

It was all downhill after that. Ororo spent the next hour giggling behind her hand as Logan cringed at Jubilee’s unabashed and seemingly endless trotting out of his past relationships “ “Remember that chick that called herself Elektra?” “ and Logan fought the temptation to drink the entire six-pack to anesthetize himself. It wasn’t just his chagrin over having his dirty laundry…well, not filthy, at least…trotted out in front of his current squeeze. It was being forced to examine his past love life, or at least his past flings, that chafed when he realized how far they paled in comparison to what he shared with this funny, intelligent firefighter whose eyes and lips drove him to distraction.

“Think ya gotta get up early in the morning, kiddo. Better let ‘Ro get home ta her puppy. We’ve held her captive long enough.”

“AWWWWWW!”

“I had a ball, kiddo,” Ororo grinned, standing and wrapping Jubilee in a hug that resembled a headlock. Jubilee giggled as Ororo ruffled her spiky pixie cut.

“You guys just want me outta the way so you can do mushy adult stuff.”

“So get outta the way, already!” Logan made broad shooing motions. “BED!”

“I’m going, I’m going. I’m telling Yukiooooo…” she threatened, letting the promised tattling hang in the air. “G,night, ‘Ro,” she tossed back.

“Good night.” Ororo sank back into her chair and looked at her watch. It was late. Logan caught her glance and crossed the room quickly.

“Not so fast,” he muttered, stilling her as she reached for her purse. “Stay. Ya’ve got a few minutes. And I know ya ain’t headed out with yer hair like that,” he pointed out. Ororo chuckled.

“Hey, it’s what all the really cool kids are doing with their hair. I’m making a statement.”

“Namely that you’re a slumber party escapee.” Logan waited for the door to Jubilee’s room to click shut, and he saw the light beaming into the hallway extinguish. He sighed and shook his head in wonder. Yes, the hair was damned silly. But she was so fuckin’ gorgeous that he didn’t care, especially considering how it got that way. It moved him to see Ororo spending time with his goddaughter not to put on a show, but because it really mattered to her to care about them both. Logan dimmed the living room lights and turned off the kitchen switch before he came back to the table. He sat down next to Ororo and nudged her seat over to him, tugging her onto his lap in their customary repose. She smelled so good to him as she leaned down and kissed him, feathering her lips over his before he opened for her, allowing her to take a more thorough taste. His hands kneaded her back and shoulders, massaging away the knots left from walking the galleria all day long. He plunged his fingers into her hair, or what he could of it, in light of the braided clumps getting in the way. “These have gotta come out.”

“Be my guest.” His fingers nimbly threaded through each plait, unwinding the locks and smoothing them out with quick strokes as he placed the tiny hair clips on the table, one after the other. Ororo sighed at the relief of freeing her neck of some of that weight. Her hair felt heavier when it was plaited. She seldom wore it that way anymore as it was, since Jonathan had been gone.

“We should probably talk,” Logan suggested.

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Along with a whole slew of others that were making her heart stutter and bounce around in her chest. Jubilee’s questions and subsequent little tell-all made Ororo tingle in anticipation and pushed her own questions onto her lips. “Logan…is it too early to hang my hat on your hook?”

“Funny way to word it,” he mused, unwinding another plait. He tilted his face up and nibbled her chin. Her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure at the caress.

“I’m no good at this. I’m good at hacking my way into building. Answering the call when someone has a first-thing-in-the-morning heart attack. Saying “Just relax, ma’am, can you remember your name?” That kind of thing I can handle. I’m not good with the hard stuff. The ‘I really care about you and don’t know where to go with this next’ stuff.”

“What makes ya say ya ain’t any good at it? Sounds like ya just summed it up pretty adequately.” He kissed her, stroking her cheek as he stared into her eyes, which were brimming with emotion.

“Humor me here,” she ordered, fighting the urge to kiss him and drag him onto the couch to sum up something else, in greater detail. This was important. We’re a couple of grown-ups. Let’s act grown-up.

“I’m all ears.”

“I’ve always liked that about you.” You’re all heart, too. She loved that about him.

“It felt weird, being put on the spot like that. And it felt crappy, Logan, not having an answer for her back there.”

“Yeah, it did.” Logan remembered searching Ororo’s face for clues, wanting to present a united front of some kind, but…damn. What if they couldn’t? What if they didn’t feel the same? Inwardly he growled at his lack of an answer.

Ororo played with the collar of Logan’s shirt. “If we move in together…well, if we do anything that takes this thing we have to whatever the next level is…I don’t want it to feel crowded.”

“Meaning?” He fought the scowl that threatened to crease his forehead, settling for arching his brow. God, she loved his eyebrows.

Ororo steeled herself. He’s going to hate me for saying this…shit, I almost hate myself. “I don’t want to feel like I’m living with your wife’s ghost. Or you to feel like you’re occupying Jon’s side of the bed when you come to stay with me.” She felt him tense beneath her, the tightness around his mouth instantly cutting through the languor of their embrace. Ruining it.

“And you call that feeling crowded?” His voice wasn’t accusatory. Not yet. Ororo worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t expect ya ta give up yer memories of yer husband, Ororo. Ya loved him. I understand that. I loved M’iko.” He still did. He still ached with it. But Ororo had awoken something in him that he felt had died with his gentle, caring wife the day her plane crashed to the ground. Sure, it was hard. Hard not to compare the two women who were as different as night and day, but who might have even approved of each other, had circumstances been different and fate hadn’t given him a swift kick in the balls.

Logan grasped Ororo’s hands and gently unwrapped them from his shoulders. Her pupils dilated as she studied him, and Logan winced at the tiny trembling of her chin. “Yer not competing with my wife. Never think that.”

“No, I ““

“Tell me ya don’t feel like yer competing with her.” He wouldn’t release her hands from his firm grip.

“You tell me I’m not.” This time he didn’t stop her from rising from his lap. His thighs felt the unwanted, cool rush of air when she separated from him. Wait. Don’t. She drank in the stiff set of his shoulders and his knuckles, whitening as he clenched them. “Because that’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want to just be someone who warms the sheets and who keeps you from being lonely.”

“I’ve got a kid living with me. I’ve got friends, so this ain’t about me bein’ lonely.” His voice was gruff and matter-of-fact. It almost hurt.

“I guess not.” Her tone was soft, and she struggled to keep it steady. “I just want it to mean more to you.”

“Can’t you feel what it means to me? After the time we’ve put into this so far?”

“Maybe you should tell me. I could guess, but I’m not good at that, either.”

“Oh, I think ya are. Yer a smart woman, take a guess. Take yer best shot. How do ya think I feel about us?” She’d backed away a couple of steps, hating her flight response but now nervous as he closed the gap between them, taking her hand and laying it on his chest.

“I think…” She dropped her eyes, but Logan tilted her face up, not letting her hide. “I think…if you feel like I do, that maybe…you care about me.” She nudged it out there. “That we’ve been getting closer and that we have something that’s pretty good.” His grip held her more firmly against him. “Really good,” she amended.

“Close,” he murmured. “But not quite.” A wave of dizziness and gooseflesh swept over her. Please don’t let me be wrong. He ran the tip of his finger down her jaw, attempting to soothe her before things became any more tense.

“Caring about you is the biggest understatement of the year. I can’t wait to get home every night and let ya in my front door. ‘Caring about ya’ isn’t a strong enough description. Not by any stretch. What we have isn’t ‘good.’ No, look at me, ‘Ro, don’t…c’mon, look me in the eye. Again, lady, good’s too small and doesn’t encompass what we’ve got.” Ororo shut her eyes to cut off the tears that were about to spill over her lashes. Don’t get sloppy all over him. He doesn’t need that…that’s emotional blackmail. She inhaled a shaky breath. “Baby, is there something else?”

“What?”

“Is there something getting in the way of ‘us’ for ya that yer not tellin’ me?”

“Yes. Damn it, YES. YES! I still talk to my husband at night!”

Huh?

“Come again?”

“It’s hard…I feel guilty. Guilty, Logan! I come here and it’s like someone flicked my happy switch, and, and I love spending time with you and Jubes and Yukio, and this is the closest to happy that I’ve felt in so long, because I AM HAPPY. So…damned happy.” Her voice practically squeaked, and she felt a tightness in her chest at the roiling confusion in his face.” And it hurts because I’m not…not supposed to be happy with you, am I? I still talk to my husband at night, because some part of me still can’t believe he was taken from me and can’t let go. I hate myself, because…I’m happier than I was with Jonathan, when I’m with you.

Logan released her and stepped back, speechless. His fists clenched and unclenched as he mulled her words. He opened his mouth to say something, then pinched it shut. Damn.

“Logan…” She paused as he stilled her words, pressing his fingertips over her soft lips. She breathed over his fingers and shut her eyes, savoring his touch but still unable to look at him.

“No. I don’t want ya ta feel guilty. Or crowded. Or worry about what ya mean ta me. Sleep on it. We’re not ready for this yet.” It wasn’t a rejection, not really, but that didn’t keep her heart from splintering or cutting her with the shards. Sadly she shook her head and grabbed her purse.”

“Good night.” NOOOOOOO! You IDIOT! Hug him, hold him, tell him you didn’t mean it, tell him you understand how much he cares. Tell him ya LOVE him, for cryin’ out loud!

“G’night, ‘Ro.” Fuck. Fuck, fucketty fuck. Grab her. Don’t let her open the door, don’t let her…

SSSWISSSSH…click. Logan heard her footsteps thudding down the stairs, but his vision was filled with her damp eyes and grimace of pain.

Ororo’s feet felt like lead, every step toward her Jeep taking her farther away from him and killing her in the process. She shuddered, her hands trembling as she fiddled with her car keys, nearly dropping them. What if this was the last time she crossed his doorstep? The night had been going so well, they’d been so happy…how had it all gone so wrong?

“I’m not going to cry about this, I’m NOT going to cry. I’m NOT going TO CRY.” Her car roared to life as she turned the ignition. She sniffled and composed herself as she turned on the radio, pulling neatly out of the lot. No sense getting into a wreck after ruining things with the man she …loved.

“OOOOHHHHHHHHH!” Tears blurred her vision as she banged her fist helplessly against the steering wheel. “Damn it, I said I wasn’t gonna cry…”

Back in his darkened apartment, Logan stared at himself in the mirror over his bureau, scowling at his reflection as if waiting for it to give him the answers.

Logan-sama, what’s wrong?

“I messed up.” Logan raked his hand through his disheveled hair for about the umpteenth time since Ororo walked out the front door. “I totally, royally messed up.”

Hmm. You seem upset. Talk to me. You know you can.

“Maybe that’s part of the problem, M’iko-chan. I just raked the woman I love over the coals because she’s been doin’ the same thing I am right now. I’m pickin’ at the splinter in her eye and squintin’ around the log in my own.”

The woman you love? Logan, if you told her how you feel, then what’s wrong?

“I left out the part where I tell her that I love her.”

Do you?

“Yes. God, yes. I didn’t think I…I didn’t think, baby. You know this hurts, talkin’ about this stuff with you, you know I still…”

I know. Logan closed his eyes and almost felt her light caress, her slender fingers stroking the back of his upper arm in that way that used to make him shiver.I love you too, Logan. So much. One day, you’ll see me again. I haven’t stopped missing you. But I hate to see you so sad. So lonely, if you don’t have to be.

“How’s your dad?”

He’s happy. Finally happy. And he said to tell you he’s sorry. We’ve finally had time to talk, and mend fences. Logan imagined her sweet smile, with a twinkle of mischief in her black eyes. He also said that he didn’t really mean it when he called you a worthless gaijin bastard. He was just mad that you took his baby away.

“Tell him I don’t blame him, then.” Logan sank down to the mattress. “Miss you, M’iko.”

Miss you, too.

“M’iko…was it a boy or a girl?” His voice caught. Always the same question mercilessly haunting him on bad nights, nagging him during good.

A bright and beautiful boy with your smile, Logan-sama. Don’t cry for him, he’s known no pain and nothing but joy. My father adores him. He pictured her smile again, this time more cunning. He grudgingly admits that some of his grandson’s good qualities came from you.

“Thank him for the vote of confidence. I’m so flattered.” His gruff laugh was tinged with pain.

Knew you would be. Logan?

“Yeah, M’iko?”

Hug Jubilee for me. And while you’re at it, it sounds like Ororo’s very special. Go after her and grab her with both hands.

Logan’s throat choked with feeling. “Never been one ta argue with a pretty lady, especially when she’d never done me wrong.”

Good. Good night, love.
*****


Ororo reached over and slapped the buzzer on her alarm clock. Four-thirty. Up and at ’em. She dragged herself over to the bathroom to relieve herself and start the shower, making the mistake of looking at herself in the medicine cabinet mirror as she reached for the spigot. “Gads, I look like crap.” That’s what a sleepless night of arguing with herself would do. There was no help for it.

Not unless she stopped fighting it. She loved James Logan Howlett more than her life.

Chuckles even knew something was amiss as soon as she flung herself inside her house and kicked off her shoes, sending them flying haphazardly into the corner. As soon as she flopped onto her bed and rolled onto her stomach, her puppy nosed her arm and hopped next to her, curling himself protectively against her as she tried to sort out her thoughts. He was the best damned dog…

Penny for your thoughts.

“They aren’t worth a plugged nickel. A plugged, counterfeit nickel.” It was their favorite joke.

Jonathan sat beside her on the floor, studying her with deep, dark, thoughtful eyes. So what’s new, then? You look like someone rained on your parade.

“I’m an idiot.”

Hm. Say how you really feel, don’t hold back…

“No, I really, REALLY was a big, fat idiot, with a capital ‘dumb ass.’ I told myself I wouldn’t do this again…”

Do what again, sweetheart?

“Play the same games. Push away someone when I finally begin to care. Make the same mistakes that I made with you.” Ororo sniffled and wiped away the fresh flood of tears that were making her cheeks feel clammy and sticky.

What mistakes? You made yourself pretty clear. Not your fault that I didn’t want to listen to what you were trying to tell me.

“What, that I was too selfish to want to change? To work harder at what we had? You wanted a family. You loved me, I loved you; there was nothing getting in the way of that except me.”

Hate to interrupt you when you’re trying to beat yourself up, babe, but I seem to remember that fighting fires and saving lives was something you worked for from the word ‘go.’ That was one of the things that I loved about you. I still love that about you. I was in awe of you.

“I drove you away…”

No. I ran away. Yeah, I was mad. At you, at us, at life. But look at me now, I’m all better. See? Jon held his hand out, turning it this way and that. No scars. No puckered skin. I’ve even been working on my two-step. I miss painting the town red with you, babe. How’re Scott and Alex?

“Still fussing over me like hens. Gotta love ‘em.”

Hnh. Yeah. Jonathan considered something for a moment. Ororo, do they still keep that reindeer I welded out of scrap metal?

“We take it out and put it outside the station house every Christmas. And we hoist and eggnog to ‘Forge,’ the guy who kept the station running like a top, God bless him…” her voice trailed off as she buried her face in her pillow. Chuckles whined in his throat at her distress. Ororo could almost feel Jon running his hand over her tangled hair to soothe her, but the hint of amusement in his voice surprised her. What’s with the butterfly clips? Looks like you came from a slumber party.

Ororo snorted as she collected herself. “That would be leftovers from my little hairdressing experiment. Jubilee’s doing. You’d love her, Jonathan.”

You sure do. Ororo removed the stray hair clip and cradled it in her palm. And if my guess is correct, you love this Logan guy a lot, too, huh?

“Jonathan…”

C’mon, no sense in denying it, you’d be lying to a dead man, and that’s not polite. You’ve never lied to me, you know. Don’t start now.

“I should have tried harder to make us work.”

That was a two-way street. And I seem to remember you body-checking me into the refrigerator to get my phone out of my hand. Sorry I hurt you.

“Sorry I hurt you.”

Apology accepted. So, we okay?

“I think so.”

Good. Because it’s time for you to move on. Remember how long you made me wait before you finally gave in and said yes when I kept asking you out? MONTHS. It was frigging torture.

“Geez.”

Sure, act innocent, missy! Jonathan’s lips curled beneath his mustache, and Ororo remembered that twinkle in his dark eyes that always turned her into goo. It was almost comforting now. Don’t make this guy wait, Ororo. Go get ‘im.

“How will I know when I’m ready?”

You were already halfway there the day you gave up the name Silvercloud, Ororo. You took back that little bit of yourself once I was gone. It’s time to share it with him.

“Miss you.”

Miss you, too.

“So, this is it?”

Yup. It’s probably for the best. Every once in a while, Raven and I still talk, too. And she admitted last night that my memories of you were making her feel ‘crowded,’ whatever that meant…you women. Geez.

Ororo’s laugh was strangled and harsh. She shook her head in defeat.
*****

Things didn’t look much better during the light of day. Her conversation with Logan didn’t just magically “unhappen.” At least today she just had a couple of school field trips scheduled to kill time. What happened after that…Ororo toyed with the idea of calling him, but she had no idea of how to put things right. No sense in putting her foot in her mouth. Again. Ororo laughed mirthlessly at the mental image she got of herself trying to mumble something to Logan around her toes…get to work, Munroe.

Ororo yanked open the refrigerator door and searched for anything edible that could be carried and eaten out the door without utensils, still cursing herself for not getting groceries sooner. Her eyes lit upon the bottle of Starbucks frappaccino tucked away in the door. She reached for it and smiled a sad little smile. Ororo grabbed her keys and headed out, kissing Chuckles’ furry head and promising him an brisk jog when she came home. She filled his food and water dishes and locked up, glancing at Logan’s spare key dangling from the ring. It winked up at her, reminding her of unfinished business.


Two hours later:

“Who wants to tell me what this is? Anyone?” A flurry of raised, wildly waving hands and “ooh., ooh, me, MEEEE-EEEE!’s greeted her question as Ororo pointed to the chubby-cheeked five-year-old who was using one hand to hold up her waving arm. She really means it, Ororo chuckled.

“How about you, what did we call this?” Ororo held up the SCBA by its harness.

“An ay-ew pack!” she answered brightly. Her blue eyes were bright and intelligent, and Ororo admired her spotless pink gingham dress and strawberry blonde pigtails. Even her lisp was cute.

“An airpack! Right! Someone was listening! Now, why do firefighters wear these big, funny helmets?” Ororo’s stock quiz questions rolled off of her tongue. The kids were so dang cute. It was nice to give these presentations for an audience of excited preschoolers that were interested in hearing about the mundane aspects of her job, and about the dangerous responsibilities that they could relate to their parents in breathless detail when they got home.

The next twenty minutes were spent letting each child aim the hose on low blast to spray a stretch of the parking lot. That was always the highlight. Their teacher snapped souvenir Polaroids of each child, grinning from ear to ear. Ororo beamed in contentment as she hefted a section of hose to hold it steady. Sometimes she really loved her job.

Slowly the children filed back into their line. A tinkling female voice stopped Ororo as she was loading the spare outer gear back into the rig. “Excuse me, we haven’t met, but I saw you one day this summer at the rest stop where I get my gas, and I meant to say hello back then.”

“Hi. I’m Ororo Munroe.”

“I know. Actually, Jubilee mentioned you. She comes over sometimes to spend time with my oldest daughter, Julie. This is Katie, my youngest. Say hello to Miss Munroe, Katie.” She shook her hand in a friendly grip. “And I’m Margaret Power. Call me Peg.”

“Hi, I’m five yews old. I knew what an ayew-pack was.” Ororo smothered a giggle at that cute lisp.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katie.”

“Miss Mun-Woe, are you Mistew Wogan’s goo-wel-fwend?” Ororo felt a flood of color rush into her cheeks and choked.

“Er…Mister Logan and I are very, very good friends.”

“Katie, it’s not nice to be nosy.”

“Jube-a-wee said Mistew Wogan has a fyew-lady friend with pwetty white hay-ew that bwings movies ovew to watch. She said she’s vewy nice,” she finished with a flourish, as if she was an authority on such things. Mrs. Power covered her face helplessly, mouthing “I’m SO sorry” over her daughter’s head. Ororo smiled broadly in spite of herself.

“Well, that’s a very nice thing to say, sweetie. I think you’re very nice, too, and very smart. What a big girl!” she exclaimed.

“We’d better let Miss Munroe get out of here, sweetie. Stop by the shop, when you’re in the neighborhood. I own the juice bar over by Mac’s.”

“I’ll look you up,” she promised. If she was in the neighborhood…that felt so loaded. Not unlikely, but loaded. She nearly dropped the coil of hose that she was winding back onto the spool as a familiar voice growled behind her “When are ya gonna look me up?”

“MISTEW WOGANNNN!” Katie launched herself at his legs. “Yaaaay!”

“Ooof…ya sure are getting big, little lady.” Logan ruffled her hair as she stared adoringly at him, showing her gap-toothed grin.

“Mistew Wogan, is Miss Munwoe yew-ah go-wel-fwend?”

“Katie…let’s just go. Don’t mind her,” Mrs. Power hedged.

“I don’t’ mind at all,” he reassured her. “I’ll see ya later, kiddo.” He tweaked her nose before her mother led her away, smiling back as she waved wildly over her shoulder.

“Got a minute, Miss Munroe?”

“I can make one. Maybe even a few.” Ororo scanned the school parking lot and spotted his pickup nearby. He took her hand, noting the tension in her grip and cursing his part in putting it there. But it still felt good holding her soft, cool hand in his. They reached the truck, and Logan leaned back against it, pulling Ororo close enough to lift her hand and lay it against his chest. He gently stroked the backs of her fingers.

“Did someone at the station tell you that I was here?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.” She glanced at her feet, then let her eyes roam most of the way back. She studied his mouth. Anything to not have to look him in the eye yet. She wasn’t ready. “This sounds pretty crummy and ungrateful, but why did you come?”

“There was something I forgot to do last night before you left.”

“What?”

“Kiss my girlfriend good night. It’s kinda become a habit.” His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against him now. His other hand cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “And I’m not good at breaking my usual routine.” He felt the slight resistance in her arms relax as her hands crept up his chest.

“I’m still your girlfriend?”

“Oh, yeah.” He watched hungrily as her tongue darted out to lick her lips.

“Well. Who am I to break a man of a habit like that?”

“As long as you don’t try to break it, then you’re my girlfriend, plain and simple.” She lowered her mouth to his and slowly, sweetly undid the past night’s wrongs as she drank in his taste, his familiar heat. She could have sworn his hand trembled as he caressed her cheek.

“There’s certain benefits involved in this whole girlfriend thing that I didn’t get ta mention last night, either, darlin’.” She teased the crown of his cheekbone with her lips as he reached into his pocket.

“Like what? Turning down the covers and leaving me a mint on my pillow?” She leaned her forehead against his.

“I was thinking more along the lines of doing away with the checkout time.” Logan handed her the brand new, light blue Reach toothbrush with flecks of blue glitter in the handle, still in its packaging. “Will you move in with me?”





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