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Disclaimer: Marvel owns the X-Men, I don't; wish they'd write some stories about them that didn't suck lately...

New York, John F Kennedy Airport, downstairs receiving area:

“What was the flight number again?”

“Check those little TVs again; we can wait for them to come downstairs, over here by the carousels.”

“We shouldn’t have to wait long; Logan always travels light.”

“You forget what a clothes horse Ororo has become, mein freund.” Peter chuckled under his breath. His eyes scanned the colorful airline banners lining the walls as he wiggled circulation back into his toes within the confines of his stiff winter boots.

“Her new look was a real eye opener, eh, tovarisch?” That wasn’t what I expected.”

“None of us saw that coming.” Kurt’s eyes glowed their customary, eerie yellow above the edge of his broad muffler. It was relatively drafty in the open, spacious check-in lobby of the airport, but Kurt swaddled himself in concealing layers of winter clothes to hide his distinctive physical traits. Mittens covered his three-fingered hands, a wool fisherman’s cap was pulled down over the peaks of his pointed ears, and his trench coat hid his prehensile tail from view. To the casual onlooker, he looked like any other New Yorker dressed for early spring.

“I wish Katya would have changed her mind and come with us.”

“She may not be ready yet. It was a lot for her to absorb.”

“The rest of us managed just fine.” Peter’s jaw was set in stubborn lines.

“Do I detect trouble in paradise?” Kurt eyed him askance.

“I don’t want Katya to make a mistake that she may regret. Don’t get me wrong; she’s very, very mature for her age sometimes. But I feel Katya is throwing away a special friendship with the one person who truly doesn’t deserve it. We’re a school, tovarisch. Sometimes we’re even a team. But Ororo has always made it feel a little more like a family.” Peter didn’t want to utter his thoughts aloud that really bothered him: Kitty was acting like a spoiled brat.

“Kitty’s been through a lot this year. Her parents’ separation was hard on her, and that was the tip of the iceberg. And poor Ororo! Mein Gott, if anyone is entitled to indulge in a momentary brush with madness…”

“Madness?” Peter’s brow quirked. He wouldn’t have gone that far.

“You know what I mean. Wild haircut aside, Ororo’s had a lot on her mind for some time, and many have actually occupied it, literally. Herr Dracula, the Brood, the White Queen…and all she did was cut her hair?” The two men were silent for a few minutes, stepping aside as they were buffeted by the passengers rummaging through the carousels for their luggage. “Sometimes, Peter…it amazes me that any of us come back, that we continue to fight for the dream. Or that we manage to do it without losing ourselves in the shuffle.”

“Kurt?”

“Ja?”

“I truly hope we haven’t lost her. The changes seem more than skin deep.” Peter checked his watch. “I am afraid for her.”

“Don’t be. To quote Logan, on one of many times that he’s said it, ‘there’s no one else I’d rather have in my corner’ than Storm.”


Nearby, in the terminal tunnel:


“You can stop fussing over me, Logan, I’m fine now.”

“Yer practically dead on yer feet.” Logan’s grip was firm and unrelenting on her elbow; Ororo silently gave thanks for his support, which made it easier to continue their stroll up the ramp. Logan drilled his pinky into his ear canal, trying to unpop it. His enhanced hearing made the impression of ‘hearing everything through a tunnel’ even worse, a jumbled cacophony that assaulted him from every direction. He couldn’t wait to have a smoke and a decent beer. “Quit bein’ so stubborn an’ let me help ya, woman!” Ororo sighed helplessly as Logan’s arm wrapped itself around her narrow waist, taking care not to let his palm rub against the thick bandage over her ribs. The faint, faded scent of his aftershave mingled with the other “airplane” odors that lingered on both of their clothing and in their hair.

“If you insist,” she tsked. A look of relief flooded her features as they made their way into the waiting area of the next incoming flight. The sky was dotted with stars, and the red and white lights of jets taking flight winked in and out of the darkness. Free. Ororo was finally free of that confining, stuffy, airless little heap, no longer to be tortured by the clouds that she couldn’t touch. Ororo glanced at Logan, taking in the drowsy set of his deep-set black eyes. His healing factor couldn’t compensate for the slight bags beneath them; she knew he barely slept. The foolish, blasted man had put her comfort before his the entire flight. Ororo woke up sprawled across his lap, the rough denim seam of his Levi’s pressed into her cheek, his solid bulk warmed by the press of her limp body. The light caress of his fingers through her hair, tickling her scalp teased her from sleep. His wide, thick-knuckled hand stroked her from shoulder to elbow. Ororo squirmed, surprised to find herself tucked beneath the scratchy flannel airline blanket.

“Warm enough, darlin’?” Ororo shifted, turning herself back to face his amused look, her blue eyes full of questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to.

“Logan…tell me I didn’t fall asleep on you!”

“Like the proverbial log.”

“Goddess! How long?”

“Past eight hours or so. Ya zonked out, and ya were out like a light. Didn’t miss much but a meal that I wouldn’t feed a dog, some beer nuts, and some flat ginger ale. I told ‘em ta leave yer soda in the can for ya so ya could have it later.” Logan’s smile was gentle but sly, the corners of his eyes crinkling at her consternation and pinkening cheeks.

“Ohhhh, I feel so…arrrggh!” She rubbed her eyes and her hand swiped through a thin track of drool cooling on her cheek. She made another faint noise of disgust as she used the edge of the blanket to rub out the matching drool spot on his jeans, until she realized she was rubbing his thigh more vigorously than was ladylike, considering the circumstances. “You shouldn’t have let me take such advantage like that!”

“The day I don’t let a woman ‘take advantage of me’ by drapin’ herself over me and settling in for a good long snuggle is the day I stop being a red-blooded man, ‘Roro. Relax. No harm done. These jeans of mine have been through worse.” And now his clothes had the added side benefit of carrying her earthy, sweet scent. No complaints.

Ororo was still exhausted, but she finally had her wits about her, and she was anxious to get things back on familiar footing. The rest of the flight found them playing a few last rounds of cards, none of which Ororo tried very hard to win. Logan surprised her when he reached for her hand as the plane tilted into its landing spiral.

“I hate heights,” he offered by way of explanation.

“I loathe tight spaces,” she volleyed back, squeezing his fingers. They both leaned toward the tiny window and watched the clouds wrap their misty mass around the jet’s hull.

*****


“I can manage just fine now.”

“I know ya can.” They boarded the escalator, and Ororo fell into step with Logan, pressed closely against his side. “Watch yer step.”

“I can’t wait to get back to my loft.”

“Ya might hafta wait a little longer, darlin’, ya haven’t eaten anything yet, and I’m ready ta sink my teeth into anything that ain’t nailed down.” He also needed that smoke, so badly his knuckles itched. “But yer in luck, ‘Roro, there’s Petey and Kurt!” The look of relieved delight warmed her face, and Ororo raised her hand to limply wave them over.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, liebchen,” Kurt grinned, until he saw how Ororo sagged against Logan for support. “Are you all right?”

“She’s hanging on by a thread. Pete’s here’s the claim ticket, look for the bags, make yerself useful, willya?”

“Hullo, Kurt; hullo, little brother.”

“I’ll wait for your luggage, Ororo.” Peter threw an added “You were missed” over his shoulder on this way out.

“Kurt…where’s Kitten?”

“She’s fine,” Kurt answered, too quickly. “She’s waiting for us back at the estate. She wanted to continue working on a program with her young friend, Douglas, and they stayed at the library until it closed.” Kurt stroked Ororo’s cheek with his mittened hand. “How was the flight?”

“Far too long.” Kurt could have sworn Logan growled at him under his breath when he touched Ororo. “It feels good to stretch my legs, my friend.” Kurt’s own skeleton was flexible and compact, so tight spaces didn’t pose much of a problem for him, but he automatically sympathized with Ororo as he drank in her endlessly long legs encased in the black raw silk trousers. It was a tad more elegant than the black leather, he mused. Obviously the Mohawk hadn’t miraculously changed back to hair flowing down her back, however, as Ororo unwrapped her scarf from her head, revealing the flamboyant white plume.

Yes, it was probably better than Kitty hadn’t come, after all. That didn’t hide the fact that Ororo was troubled by her absence.

Peter arrived with their luggage, hefting the carry-on bag, suitcase, and garment bag easily. “We parked in the lower level. Ororo, are you fine with the walk?”

“You’re already carrying the luggage, Peter; I don’t expect you to carry me, too.”

“Don’t put it past me ta do just that, darlin’. Ya still ain’t up to full strength yet.”

“Full strength? What happened?”

“Long story, ‘Elf. We’ll save it fer the ride home. But first, let’s hit a Mickey Dee’s. ‘Roro missed dinner.” Ororo was about to object, not wanting to delay them any further in the traffic, but her growling stomach made up everyone’s mind, and they stopped at the first fast food stop when they pulled off of the off-ramp.





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