She honestly wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. They’d been going for hours, ever since they’d arrived back from Massachusetts. After a surprisingly short reprimand from Xavier, Ororo had been dismissed to her room for the remainder of the day and night, a sort of grounding that she found grating, but not unjustified.
Leaving Xavier’s office she had headed to the kitchen to grab some fruit and snacks for her ’in-house’ punishment before making her way to the dorms. Ororo had been more than a little stunned to see Logan casually leaning against her closed bedroom door when she arrived upstairs. With one foot propped behind him and a black cowboy hat drawn low, shadowing his eyes, he had made a staggeringly enticing visual. Hearing her approach he had lifted his head and said, “Seein’ as how yer room bound for the next 24, thought maybe I’d come by and see if I could amuse ya.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” she had asked, her voice tinged breathless. “Amusing one another?”
He held up a deck of cards. “Don’t know where yer mind went, but all I was hoping for was a friendly game of poker.”
“Riiiight.” Ororo fished her keys from her pocket and shooed him from her doorway. “I call your bluff,” she said over her shoulder, turning the key.
That had been nearly five hours ago and Ororo wasn’t sure she was even sane anymore. She trembled as her orgasm subsided into delicious little aftershocks ricocheting throughout her overheated body.
“Sweet Jesus,” the man bringing her to completion rasped the bastardized prayer against the side of her face, his lips pressed to her cheek. With a final deep plunge and shudder he rolled to his back, his chest rising and falling as he took in great gulps of air.
Ororo for her part remained face down on the mattress, turning her head towards her bedmate, not bothering to move the moist tendrils of hair clinging to her skin around her eyes. She was too damn tired to move and so pleasantly sated she didn’t want to. “Wow,” was all she was able to murmur.
Logan shot her a cocky smile, his dimple showing. He reached out, wiping the sticky hair from her brow. “Nineteen more hours of confinement. Whatever will we do to amuse ourselves,” he asked, his eyes glittering with mirth.
Ororo’s eyes widened. “How about we take a break, funny man. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling kinda gamey.”
“Gamey?” One eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah.” She flopped to her back, one hand over her head, the other resting on her abdomen. “You know, less than fresh.”
Logan leaned close, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.
“Ew. Gross.” Ororo shoved at his shoulder.
He leaned back, his mouth curved. “You smell good to me.”
“Mmm.” She touched his nose with her index finger, running it along the wide ridge. “Maybe this needs a tune up.”
He shook his head. “Nope.” He captured her finger, bringing it to his mouth where he sucked upon it lazily, trapping it between his white teeth.
Ororo, despite being thoroughly ravished felt the stirring of desire in the pit of her belly. Logan chuckled, a dark sound full of awareness and sinful temptation. He removed her finger from between his lips and propped himself up on one elbow.
“I could eat,” he stated.
Ororo gestured to her dresser where her kitchen snacks lay. “I have some fruit…” she trailed off, noticing the scrunch of his face that bordered on scowl. “Ok, so no to the fruit.” She shrugged.
“Tell ya what, darlin’, I need to take care of a few things so I’ll pick up some lunch and bring it back in a few hours.” He glanced about the room. “We can impromptu picnic on the floor when I get back.”
Ororo bit her lip. A bedroom picnic with Logan sounded nice, better than nice, it sounded fantastic, but she didn’t want to read too much into it. The last thing she wanted to do was start romanticizing what was happening between her and Logan. It was sex. Damn good sex, but still only sex, no matter how much she may wish otherwise.
And she did wish otherwise she had come to recognize that morning at dawn when Scott had come knocking on the guest room she occupied with Logan at Emma Frost’s Academy. She had not wanted to get up, not because she was tired, but because in rising she would be removing herself from the warm circle provided by Logan’s arms.
Falling in love with Wolverine would be a mistake, she tried to tell herself only to realize that it was too late. She had already fallen--and hard.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, shaking herself of her inner thoughts.
Logan peered over the side of the bed, searching for his boxer briefs. He tugged them on before turning to face her. “You tired of my company or something?” It was said jokingly but beneath the surface there was a subtle tension.
“No more so than usual,” she replied with her own teasing smile.
“Hnh.” He placed his fists on the mattress, leaning towards her. “You could always tell me to go away,” he said huskily.
“I suppose I could,” she agreed, rising to her knees. “But would you listen?”
His eyes rested on the chocolate tips of her breasts. “Probably not,” he confirmed, touching his mouth to one peak.
Ororo gasped. “I thought you were leaving,” she reminded.
“I am.” He swirled his tongue one last time, forcing himself to back up. “I’ll be back.” He quickly donned his previously discarded clothes and gave her a quick, hard kiss on the mouth.
Ororo watched him walk out into the hall from the center of her bed. Once the door shut behind him she flopped back down, burying her face in her pillow and inhaling his musky male scent. Oh, yeah, she had it bad…
“This had better be good,” Logan said, sliding in to the corner booth of a small convenience store diner roughly twenty miles from the Institute. It was the same one he and Ororo had stopped at the day before around roughly the same time. Had it really only been a day since their bike ride and all the turmoil that had come after? So much shit had happened, it didn’t seem possible.
General Fury, seated opposite Logan in the booth and oblivious to Logan‘s inner thinking, sipped his steaming coffee with slow deliberation before replying. “Since when do you care, so long as you get some action?”
Logan scowled. Since there’s somewhere else I’d rather be, he thought but refrained from saying. He motioned for the waitress who provided him a cup of coffee. “What mess do ya need me to clean up now?” he asked when she departed.
“Always so pleasant,” Fury remarked. “No idle chit-chat, no hello, just straight to it.”
“Neither one of us is the type for anything idle, Nicky.” Logan commented with a feral smile. “So what d’ya got for me?”
The General reached into the briefcase beside him and withdrew a manila folder with a red
seal across the front. “A bit of hunting and tracking,” Fury told him. “A few days ago
one of my agents made contact with someone who we believe may know where
Magneto is hiding, or at least where one of his higher up cronies by the name of Arthur
Centino may be located. He’s a mutant with an unusual knack for good luck.”
“Good luck?” Logan flipped through the pictures.
“Yeah, he kind of defies the odds. Laws of probability always play in his favor.”
“He should play the lottery.”
“He has. And won; several. Blaire and he were longtime lovers only recently split. If
anyone knows where he is it’s her, but she has thus far given us the slip. We’re hoping you
can track her down and extract the information we need.” Fury slid the folder
across the tiled tabletop. “It’s near guaranteed that Centino is holed up with Magneto.”
“You’re still searching for ole helmet head?” Logan set his mug onto the table and picked up the folder. “Why waste the man power? He’ll make his whereabouts known sooner or later. The man has an ego the size of Texas; ain’t no way he’ll stay in seclusion forever.”
Nick nodded. “That’s the thing. We know he won’t stay hidden, if he would then that be another story. As it is, whenever he surfaces he’s sure to once again attempt world domination in the name of mutant kind.”
Logan shrugged. “You buck, pal.” Opening the folder, his gaze locked on the photograph paper-clipped to the inside cover. He swore violently under his breath recognizing the spiked haired brunette staring back at him with vivid aqua eyes.
“Her name is Alison Blaire,” Fury continued, seemingly oblivious to Logan‘s reaction. “We want her found.”
Logan didn’t say anything. He pulled out several more pictures. Some were of Alison before the dye job and with a young man who sported a glowing right eye. The words ‘Blaire/Centino’ were scribbled on the back of the pictures.
“Time isn’t much of an issue, but I’d appreciate results quickly. So far she‘s not been linked to anything directly, nor do we believe she is, so there‘s no need for you to assume she‘s dangerous. Although from agent Jenson‘s bruises, I wouldn‘t consider her harmless either.”
Logan leaned back in his seat. SHIELD was full of lame asses, he mused, thinking that if they couldn’t find what was right under their damn noses then she probably deserved to get away.
Fury cocked his head, his solitary gaze calculating. “You taking this?”
Logan nodded, getting to his feet. “Yeah.” He finished off his coffee. “I’ll give you a call when I’ve got something.” He mounted his bike, revving the engine before squealing from the drive and heading back towards Xavier’s. He had some questions for ‘Ro.
Ororo liberally sprinkled rose scented bath salts into the steaming water of her tub. After eating a small snack to tide her over she had decided to change her bedding and take a bath. There were only six rooms with private baths in the entire mansion and Ororo was insanely thankful that hers was one of them.
She did a little childlike “hot water” dance when she stepped into the skin reddening water but soon she sighed with contentment, resting her head against her bath pillow, allowing the water to soother her tender areas.
She washed her hair and rinsed it with an old ceramic water pitcher, enjoying the feel of the scented bubbles and warm water over her back. She sponged her skin, and sat back when done. Now that the maintenance was done she donned her earbuds and pressed play on her ipod, settling in for a good long soak.
“Storm?”
Or not.
Ororo opened her eyes. “One sec, Scott,” she called, rising.
“What was tha--Oh.” Scott stood in her room, visible due to her open bathroom door, clearly flustered at having walked in on her bath. He should have looked away, but the sight of such a beautiful woman standing with water running down her body, the shimmering liquid playing homage to curves and hollows, as steam curled about her ankles was riveting.
Ororo placed one hand on her hip, slanting her friend a sly look. “Are you going to just stand there gawking or be a gentleman and hand me my robe,” she teased, pointing to terrycloth robe hanging from the door handle.
“Sorry.” Scott flushed scarlet. He handed her the robe. “You should put warning signs up. Something like ‘Caution: seriously hot female ahead’.”
Ororo laughed as shrugged the material over her shoulders, knotting the belt. “What brings you by?” she asked, stepping from the bathroom and closing the door behind her. If she was lucky this wouldn’t take long and she could get back to her rose scented bath before all the heat was gone.
Scott hesitated, his gaze flicking back towards the bathroom. “It can wait. You’re in the middle of something-”
“Scott.” Ororo chided. “You came here for a reason, so tell me. What’s on your mind?”
“Lorna.”
“Ah.” Ororo nodded knowingly. She picked up her hairbrush from her dresser, knowing that she would not be returning to her bath anytime soon.
“Here.” Scott took the brush from her fingers. He tossed one of her decorative bean pillows onto the floor, motioning for her to sit. Once she complied he took a seat on her bed behind her. He worked the brush through her long strands.
“I’m listening,” she said softly when he had yet to speak.
He sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
Coming from Scott that single statement was profound. “Well,” Ororo said, choosing her words carefully. “What is it you’re feeling?”
“Confused.”
She tilted her head. “So I gathered. Are you and Jean still having problems?”
“Depends on what you mean by problems?” he said evasively.
“I mean problems, Scott. It’s not a trick question.”
“Sorry.” He bent and kissed the top of her head. “I sometimes forget that you don’t play those games.”
She smiled, appeased. “You mean where you say one thing but mean another kind of game? Yeah, I don’t like those.”
“Me either.” He continued to brush, the rhythmic motion soothing to both. “I think Jean’s messing with my head,” he blurted.
That one caught Ororo by surprise. She knew Jean was capable of emotional manipulation but straight up mind manipping seemed a bit much, even for her. “Really?”
“I can’t be sure. But maybe.”
“Scott, that’s something you need to be damn sure of.” Ororo cautioned.
He nodded. “I know. But it’s not like I can come right out and ask her.”
“Why not?”
“Huh?”
“I said, ‘why not?’. If you can’t be open and honest with one another then it’s already too late.”
Scott sat quiet for a moment. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I saw Logan leave your room earlier and I know he stayed with you at the Academy of Tomorrow.”
“He did,” she confirmed.
“So, what’s the story?”
“There is no story.”
“Right. What was that you just said about games?”
Ororo blushed. “Fine. The truth is I don’t know what the story is.”
“No?”
“No.”
Scott ran his fingers through her hair, separating the strands. “Well, how do you feel about him?”
Ororo leaned to the side so that she could see him over her shoulder. “Wasn’t this supposed to be about you?”
He shrugged. “Perspective. You can help me gain perspective through your own experience.”
“You are so good at bullshit, Scott.”
“It’s a gift.” He smirked, tugging her hair. “Now spill.”
“How do I feel about Logan?”
“Yes.”
Ororo took a deep breath, then said in a rush. “I think I love him.”
In the hall, one hand over the doorknob, the man in question froze. He had arrived at the mansion only a few minutes ago, and had immediately headed towards Ororo’s room. His temper had been irked when he scented Scooter in the room with her, but hearing a snippet of conversation told him that One-Eye was merely whining about Jeannie. Deciding that he didn’t care if he interrupted Scott’s lamenting he had been prepared to enter, but the topic shift gave him pause. He couldn’t help eavesdropping a bit when he heard his name.
“I think I love him.” Ororo’s soft words tore through wood and skin and punctured straight through to his heart. Logan stepped back away from the door as though it had burnt him. Shit.
He ran one hand through his hair, blowing out a long breath. Damn it all to hell. Love, he had figured out long ago, was an emotion to be avoided. It caused complications. Made people do stupid fucking things. He didn’t ask for it, didn’t want it, and sure as shit didn’t give it.
So why in the hell did his heart rate just double? And what in the fuck was that goddamn clench in his gut all about? Bad roadside café coffee, he told himself. That was what that was. Sure, Bub.
Inside the room Scott’s hands stilled. “Shit,” he echoed the other man’s thoughts.
Ororo grimaced. “I know, stupid right?”
“No.” Scott said reluctantly. “I’m sure there are things to love about Wolverine.”
Ororo laughed quietly. “Wow, that had to have hurt.”
“A bit.” Scott teased back.
“So, back to you,” Ororo changed the subject. “What is it you’re feeling about Lorna?”
“Attraction. Desire. Longing.” Scott admitted out loud for the first time.
“Well, she is beautiful, so attraction and desire are pretty easy to produce. Longing, eh?” Ororo contemplated that for a minute. “Is it Lorna that you long for, or the feeling of unconditional love that only happens in youth?”
Scott thought for a moment. “A bit of both, I think. With Lorna it was so easy. We were happy and she was satisfied with me…and only me.”
“Ah.” Ororo tilted her head back. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Scott smiled ruefully. “It always comes down to him.”
Ororo’s smile dimmed, as did her eyes. Jean and Logan shared history, that much was irrefutable, and unavoidable and that history was something that she felt had nothing to do with her current situation involving Logan, but hearing Scott‘s words made her question that. Despite her best effort to fight it off Ororo still felt foreboding unease settle over her like a blanket.
Logan didn’t like how silent the room behind the door had gotten. Clutching the file from Fury in his hand Logan rapped on the door, deciding not to barge in unannounced. “’Roro.”
Ororo shifted, placing her elbow on Scott’s knee. “Could you give me a minute?” she called in return.
Scott shook his head. “It’s okay, I need to get to the hangar and run some tests on the Blackbird and X-wing.”
Ororo gave him a questioning look.
“For some reason the communication is off and the planes aren’t syncing up properly. Could be something simple like a relay switch or a bad circuit, but I’d like to rule out faulty programming or wires and I am boring the hell out of you,” he grinned. “Sorry.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Hank could go on for hours about that kind of stuff.”
“I imagine.”
She allowed him to help her to her feet. “I used to joke that if his computer had a vagina drive that I would have been obsolete.”
Scott snorted. “That is so not right.”
“I know,” she walked him to the door, smiling. “But sadly true. Lunch tomorrow?”
“It’s a date.” Scott brushed her lips with his. “Thanks for listening.”
“I don’t feel like I was much help.”
“You were.” He smiled. “Just knowing you care helps.”
She hugged him. “I do care, Scott. Don’t ever forget that.”
Outside the door Logan growled. His eyes raked Scott up and down when the taller man emerged from the room.
“Wolverine.”
“One-Eye.”
“Oh, brother.” Ororo reached past Scott and grabbed Logan’s forearm, yanking him into the room. “I’ll catch you tomorrow for lunch, Scott.” She closed the door.
Logan immediately crowded her back against the wood, sniffing. “Smell pretty,” he grunted.
Inordinately pleased by that, Ororo still couldn’t help but tease. “Me bathe.”
“Hnh.” Words were useless tools Logan thought staking his claim and plundering Ororo’s soft mouth. Action was definitely more his thing.
A soft, content sigh passed through her damp lips when he drew back. “Hi,” she smiled dreamily.
“Hey.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. He shouldn’t feel so damn satisfied that she responded to him the way she did, but he couldn’t help it.
“What’s that?” she asked, noticing the folder in his hand.
He handed it to her. “We need to talk.”
“About?” she questioned, opening the file, only to have the answer stare right back at her.
“You tell me.” Logan’s voice was speculative.
Ororo perused the contents of the file, shaking her head in absolute denial. “Ali is not in league with Magneto.”
“Chances are yer right, but she may know people that are.” Logan allowed.
“Ali knows a lot of people.” She shut the file aggressively. “So do I for that matter. Doesn‘t mean anything.”
“The man in those photos supposedly works for Magneto.”
“Supposedly?”
“Unconfirmed.”
“A few pictures of her with an ex-boyfriend in Genosha are enough to make her suspect?” Ororo tossed the file onto her nightstand. “And what are you supposed to do? Confirm it?”
“Something like that.” He watched her pace. She was irritated.
“You’re way off here, Wolverine.”
Scratch irritated. She was pissed.
“Ain’t no harm in askin’.”
“No.”
One ebony brow rose.
“You aren’t interrogating her.” She stated, crossing her arms.
“’Ro-”
“No.”
“If you think she doesn’t have anything to hide, then why so defensive?”
“Because she’s my best friend,” she declared with an angry snap of lightning from her eyes. “I don’t interrogate or question the loyalty of my friends. I trust Ali absolutely.”
“Absolute trust in anyone is stupid,” he said with a scowl.
She turned away from him, her curtain veiling her face. “You would feel that way. Listen to me carefully, Logan. Alison is the only person that never tried to screw me over. Never played games. Never lied. Never backed out on me or ran away. She‘s trustworthy and loyal to a fault. I love her and I won‘t listen to you slander her in any way.”
He realized his faux pas too late, but that didn‘t stop him from making a second one. “You don’t need to be involved, ‘Ro. I’ll do this on my own. I won‘t ask you to betray your friend.”
She stiffened and asked without turning, “You’re going after her even though I swear to you that she isn’t involved with Magneto?”
“I’ll do my job, yes.” His tone was hard, unyielding.
Ororo felt like she had been slapped in the face. “You do what you have to do,” she told him. And so will I.
“’Ro…” He reached for her. “This doesn’t have to come between us.”
She shook his hand from her shoulder. “You’ll have to forgive me if I seem less than receptive to you right now,” she said. “But I want to be alone.”
Logan took a step back, surprised by how much that statement hurt him. “Fine.” He snatched the file from her bed. “I’ll be back later.”
“There’s no reason--”
He cut her off. “I’ll be back later.” There was no room for argument.
She nodded once still not meeting his eyes.
Reluctantly Logan left the room. They both needed some time to digest things. Ororo had to deal with the fact that he would be going after Alison regardless of her vehement assurance that the punker had no knowledge of Magneto. And he had to deal with the fact that he was terrified out of his mind by the fact that Ororo loved him.
He paused at the end of the corridor, glancing back towards her room. She was without her cell and house phone as a result of Xavier’s punishment, but he knew that she would try and contact Alison and warn her despite those facts, but he meant what he said, he wouldn’t ask her to betray her friend. He entered the elevator. He’d do this on his own and hope that in the end he hadn’t shattered whatever he and Ororo had together.
The instant raging thunderstorm prevented him from traveling on his bike. Logan lifted his eyes to the second story window, his gaze finding her easily. She raised a brow, her mouth a firm line. “Freaky weather we‘re having,” she hollered down to him.
He winced as quarter sized hail smacked him and the pavement. He saluted her effort and stomped back inside the mansion. She couldn’t keep it up forever, he figured. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. She’d tire out eventually.
He popped the tab of his drink. He really disliked the idea of her exhausting herself to keep him from going after her friend. It also bothered him that she didn’t appreciate the fact that he’d shared the file with her. He could have gone off and left her in the dark, but he hadn’t. Why? He wasn’t 100% on that himself, but it had felt wrong to try and keep it from her.
Thunder shook the table.
“Geez, what’s up Storm’s butt?’ Bobby asked sauntering into the kitchen and heading for the snack cupboard.
Logan snarled.
Bobby held up his hands. “Okay, is it like national PMS day?”
Before Logan could threaten to slice the kid to cubes the doorbell, a massive gong like sound, reverberated through the downstairs.
Logan ignored it. Bobby took his cue from Logan and sat down at the table, munching some Pringles.
Again it sounded.
“For crying out loud,” Logan heard Jean grumble in the foyer. “No one get up and answer the door or anything.”
“That’s what women are for!” Bobby shouted before looking to Logan for a high five.
Logan made a face and shook his head, waiting for the inevitable redhead retaliation. He didn’t have to wait long. Bobby’s chair was whipped out from under him, causing the younger man to sprawl on the floor, chips scattering everywhere.
Logan gave him a mocking look. “Dumbass.”
“Can we help you?” Jean was asking, tension in her voice.
A shaky female voice responded. “Storm…I need to see…Storm….”
Logan stood abruptly, recognizing the singer’s voice. It looked like he wouldn’t have to go hunting, apparently his prey was walking right into his den. He moved to the foyer just in time to see a very bloody and battered Alison Blaire collapse into Jean’s arms, a knife sticking out from the center of her back.
Ororo clutched Ali’s pale, cold hand between her warm, sable ones. “I‘m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “Please, please forgive me.” Six hours after her dramatic front door arrival and there was still no change in Alison‘s condition, despite how much Ororo had willed for there to be. “I never should have left you.” Ororo felt a scalding tear slide down her cheek.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to finish up in here.”
Ororo lifted her head, regarding Jean with bloodshot eyes. “I should have been there for her.”
Jean pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and placed it on the stainless steel countertop. “Blaming yourself won’t change anything. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest or something to eat.” Jean’s voice was gentle.
“Not hungry.” Ororo watched as Jean, her gaze pensive. “Did you see what happened to her?”
Jean paused a bit taken aback. Ororo disliked the invasive nature of telepathy immensely. “You want to know if I saw into her mind?”
A nod and a choked sound. “I want to know what happened to her.”
“Why?” That was Xavier.
Ororo turned to face him. “Because whoever is responsible for this,” she gestured to Ali’s still form, “will answer to me.” Her eyes began to flash.
“You are understandably upset right now, Ororo, and I do truly identify with your desire for vengeance, but the X-Men must stand for a better way. We can not go on a rampage that will only incite retaliation upon retaliation. Violence merely begets more violence as a great man once said ‘The road--”
“Save it.” Ororo held up her hand. “I don’t need a speech. I need answers.”
Xavier’s mouth thinned. “You are clearly upset. I suggest you get some sleep and allow yourself some time-- ”
She cut him off again. “So you won’t help me?”
“Extract revenge?” Xavier’s eyes held sympathy but also determination. “No, Ororo. I won‘t.”
Jean glanced between Xavier and Ororo. The tension was so thick it was nearly visible.
The Professor met the redhead’s eyes and she nodded, hearing him in her head. Respectfully Jean lifted the blanket folded down to Alison’s waist and with great care she draped it over the young mutant’s face.
Ororo, who had been holding onto her control by a tenuous thread, screamed, her icy demeanor giving way beneath the onslaught of grief crashing over her. The finality of Ali’s death hit her then and there and she couldn’t take it.
Xavier, having read her turbulent and barely contained emotions from the hall was prepared for her outburst, shutting her mind off the second he felt the hairs on his arms raise.
Logan, who had also been waiting in the hall, moved into the room, catching Ororo before she hit the floor. It broke his heart to hear her scream, and it tore him apart that she hadn’t wanted him around after she had been given the news of her best friend’s death.
“No,” she had whispered raggedly in denial. “Ali’s too strong to die.”
“There was internal bleeding,” Jean had told them. “It’s amazing that she lasted as long as she did.”
“No.” Ororo had refused to believe. “Not Al.”
Logan had tried to reach her but she had hissed at him, “Stay away from me.”
“Storm.” Scott had moved to comfort her, but she had refused even his touch.
Now, holding her against his chest and smelling her tears that even sleep couldn’t stop Logan felt his own eyes mist over. He paused in the infirmary doorway. “She’ll need you when she wakes up,” he told Scott.
Scott lifted his head. “Where will you be?”
Logan’s face was the scariest Scott had ever seen it. “Hunting.” He glanced at Xavier. “No fancy speeches?”
“Would it stop you?”
“No.”
“Then I will conserve my energies for something better suited.” Xavier rolled forward. He placed his hand on Ororo ‘s forehead. “She will have a deep sleep. It is the best I can do for her.”
Nick Fury stood facing the view of the city he could see from his penthouse apartment. Lightning flashed across the sky illuminating the room and reflecting the man behind him in the glass. Nick turned, startled. “Wolverine, how the hell did you get in here?”
“You’ve got shit security.” Logan thumbed towards the door and the sprawled out, unconscious guards in the open doorway.
“I see that.” Nick stated, walking to his minibar. “Drink?”
“No, this ain’t a social call.”
“Then what brings you by? Already got that information I asked for?”
“Not exactly. Who else knew about the Alison Blaire/Magneto connection?”
“Why?” Nick poured himself a scotch.
Logan tried not to let any emotion show. “Because she just dropped dead on Xavier’s doorstep.”
Fury blinked. “Tonight?”
“Not twenty minutes ago.” Logan confirmed. “Beaten to death.” The knife in the back was more symbolic than fatal.
“What are you thinking?”
Logan stepped out of the shadows, revealing that he was dressed in his black and yellow X-Men leathers. A clear sign that he meant business. “I think someone on SHIELD is playing ya.”
“Double agent?”
“Probably. Any new recruits?”
“Not lately.”
“Mutants?”
“Aside from you? None.”
“I don’t exactly work for SHIELD.” Logan reminded him. “Scan ‘em.”
Nick took a drink of his scotch. “I can’t scan everyone. The financial backing needed for a division wide scanning--”
“Not all of them. Only those that had direct knowledge or access to the Blaire file.”
“You think Magneto has infiltrated our organization?” Nick was incredulous.
Logan was dead serious. “The man is methodical and patient. He leaves nothing to chance, Nicky. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“And you think he had Alison Blaire killed?”
Logan shook his head. “No.”
Fury frowned, not following. “No?”
“No. Not his style. If she was dolling out the information on his whereabouts then I could see it, but as it was you said she was elusive and less than divulging. Whoever killed her did it to send a message.”
“What message would that be?”
“Not sure exactly.” Logan placed his hand to the glass window, watching the lightning play off the clouds, thinking. A knife in the back usually stood for betrayal, but if Alison wasn’t giving up the information than who was she betraying? That was, if she even had the information. Ororo had seemed certain that Alison was in no way involved with Magneto.
He thought back to that afternoon, realizing for the first time that Ororo swore up and down that Alison didn’t have ties to Magneto. She never said anything about an involvement with Centino or histies.
Logan turned to Nick. “Any of your men from Genosha?”
“Brody Anderson, why?”
Logan’s gaze gleamed, lightning reflected off the glass in their depths. “Because he needs to account for his whereabouts this evening.”
“Anderson!” Fury pounded on Brody Anderson’s front door. No answer. Somewhere down the deserted street a dog barked.
“Allow me.” -snikt- Logan extended his middle claw, wedging it between the door and frame, slicing down. The door swung open revealing a dark interior. “Something smells.” Logan grumbled, sniffing.
Fury could smell it too. Like burnt flesh. He stepped back, drawing his weapon. “After you,” he motioned with his head.
Logan’s five other claws emerged with a near silent -snikt- into place. They stepped through the threshold, moving in trained formation across the small foyer, into the living room and beyond.
The smell was coming from the kitchen. Logan moved stealthily across the carpet, sniffing. “Got something.” He flipped the kitchen light.
“Jesus.” Nick covered his face with his shirt.
Lying on the floor, his skin nearly melted from his body and a phone fused to his hand was the corpse of Brody Anderson. Logan took in the scene, asking, “Looks like he was on the phone when lightning traveled through the line.” he surveyed the floor. “Too bad he was standing in a puddle of coolant leaking from his fridge.”
Nick moved around the body. “So the guy gets struck by lightning through the phone while standing in a puddle of highly flammable coolant.”
“Yup.”
“What do you suppose the odds of that are?”
“Vegas odds.”
“Yeah.” Fury was contemplative. After a few moments he dialed his cell. “I need a clean up at Brody Anderson’s home.”
Logan continued through the house, up the stairs and to the bedroom. He caught the smell of blood coming from the hamper. He lifted the lid, pulling out a black ski mask and gloves, covered in Alison Blaire’s rhesus negative. His hands bunched into fists, the urge to kill renewed.
He returned downstairs carrying the articles of clothing. “Here.” He shoved them towards Fury. “Your man killed Alison Blaire.”
“And now he’s dead.”
“Looks that way.” Logan headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Where I’m needed.”
She was suffocating.
Ororo thrashed wildly, trying to escape the darkness smothering her.
“Easy. You‘re alright.”
Logan.
“Oh, thank God.” Ororo sat up, gasping for breath. She was in her room, she realized. For some reason Logan was seated beside her on a folding chair. He had taken over vigil a little over an hour ago, relieving Scott, who was currently on the phone with Lorna, relaying the bad news.
Ororo clutched her hand to her chest. She gave him a weak smile. “I had the worst dream.”
He said nothing, smoothing her hair behind her ear.
She studied his deep set eyes. Slow dawning suffused her foggy thinking and her face crumpled. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?” She hiccupped. “She’s really gone?”
Logan nodded solemnly.
“My Ali is gone.” Fat teardrops spilled over dark lashes.
Logan moved to the bed and pulled her into his arms.
“Aliiiii,” Ororo wailed, her hands gripping his shirt into tight balls of tear soaked fabric. “Nononononononono.”
Logan rubbed her back in slow circles, simply holding her while she wept. After a time she shuddered, her tears ceasing. “Who?”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “A man named Brody Anderson.”
“Where is he?” her voice was raw and glacial.
“Dead.”
“You?”
“I wish. No. Looks like a freak accident.”
“How freak?”
“Defies the laws of probability freak.”
“I see.”
Did she? He wondered. How much did she know about Centino? Now was not the time, he knew, so he placed the question on the backburner for another time. For now it was all about helping her grieve.
