Chapter Ten: Dance
But when you're holding me like this
I'm carelessly lost in your touch
I'm completely defenseless
Baby, it's almost too much
I'm helplessly, hopelessly, recklessly
Falling in love
~Jessica Andrews
Since it was a Sunday and Gambit was off nursing a hangover the likes of which he had likely never seen, Ororo found herself with a load of free time. Several of the students attended a nearby church with Scott and Renee, leaving the house eerily quiet.
She dressed Prita in another pair of overalls, much like those Logan had chosen yesterday topping it with a yellow blouse complete with cartoon ducks. The girl squealed as her hair was collected into a loose, curling ponytail. Ororo dressed herself in a similar fashion, ready for a day without complications.
After breakfast, the twosome made their way into the gardens, searching for Kitty. Since it seemed too nice a day to be spent indoors, Ororo sought her young friend for some girl time away from the mansion. Rogue and Jubilee were in a similar state as Gambit, leaving them less than enthused about an outing.
They found Kitty watering long rows of blossoming lilac, clothed in jeans as well. The girl had an embossed cap bearing the school’s signature logo holding back her short brown hair and a soft expression on her face.
As Prita and Ororo rounded the corner, she noted that her young friend gazed lovingly at the simple solitaire diamond adorning her left hand. Smiling to herself, Ororo released Prita so the girl could romp about as she spoke to Kitty.
“It really is stunning,” she greeted, coming up behind the distracted girl.
Kitty startled, jerking the spraying water hose violently. “Storm!”
Laughing, Ororo grasped the other woman’s hand quickly, studying the ring Peter had seen fit to give her.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Kitty gushed once she recovered from her shock. “I can’t stop staring at it.”
“It is, Peter has excellent taste,” Ororo agreed. “And not only where diamonds are concerned.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush.”
Ororo released her hand, winking before she turned her face up to the bright sunlight of morning. It really was a lovely day, one filled with promise and hope. Her stomach clenched at the thought of hope.
She was weak and foolish, that was the only explanation. Allowing Logan to get a foothold into her life was definitely not in the cards. But seeing his proud smile, the all-consuming awe in his eyes when Prita walked…she could not keep them apart. His words in the empty classroom came back to her; his desire to be Prita’s father did strange things to her heart.
Logan was perhaps more stubborn than she and there was no doubt in her mind that if he decided he wanted her, he would be relentless in his pursuit. It was best if she put just a bit of distance between them. She would not keep him from Prita, but there would be just a crowbar of separation between Storm and Wolverine.
If Gambit would stop misbehaving for five minutes to help her, it would be much easier. Perhaps encouraging his relationship with Rogue had not been such a wise idea. Ashamed at her thoughts, Ororo shook her head to clear it.
“You ok?” Kitty asked with sincere concern.
“Oh,” Ororo blinked, having not realized she’d fallen into a daze. “Yes. Actually, I wanted to ask if you felt up for a bit of snooping around garage sales.”
“Ooh,” Kitty’s lips pursed as she emitted a sound of intrigue and pleasure. “I’m in. It’ll be fun, just the three of us.”
“I agree!” Ororo forced her mind to drift away from Logan. “Let me get my purse.”
~**~
Three hours and hundreds of sales later, Ororo and Kitty had piled the trunk of her blue Explorer with all manner of things they truly did not need. Though all of the teachers were gifted with a generous employer, there was something very enjoyable when one found a good buy in the midst of someone’s castaways.
There was a lovely chest of drawers made for a child’s bedroom that Ororo got for fifty dollars. Kitty had found an antique wedding dress, that with a bit of clever sewing could be altered to match her dream gown. The trio of females thoroughly picked through lawn after lawn of items, finding something they absolutely needed at nearly every one.
Ororo felt she was nearly through “ Prita’s fussing only hastened that decision “ as they looked through a vast collection of belonging to a young man’s late grandfather. Kitty found a selection of old movies, which she always claimed were her favorites, as Ororo tried to soothe her cranky daughter.
While Kitty fought with the owner of the black and white movie collection, Ororo bounced Prita down the long makeshift aisles, glancing at anything that caught her interest. She hummed to her daughter, a song that had no place on a sunny morning, but brought her mind back to whispered endearments and dark delights. She shouldn’t have that song burned into her memory nor allow the memories it conjured to run rampant in her mind.
She stopped at a folding table, looking at dust-covered record sleeves she selected a few original recordings of Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles. In a record shop, many of these would cost a fortune. Surely the owner of such a collection would have known the value, but perhaps the young man did not.
Snickering to herself, she gathered up a few more records, inwardly wanting to get home so she could fire up the record player she had yet to unpack. There was nothing like an original recording, really.
Just as she hoisted the dozen or so records she’d planned to buy, she came across another familiar sleeve. Mouth hanging open in surprise, Ororo blew the dust off of an old Johnny Cash album.
“Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison…” she muttered, handing Prita to Kitty when the girl approached, obviously triumphant.
After a moment of dedicated digging, she located five more albums, all in mint condition. Biting her lip, she warred with herself. Surely Logan would love such a gift, he had mentioned his love of the now-deceased singer some time ago and backed up his claim by playing recently purchased compact discs.
But how could she give him the records without encouraging him?
“Bother,” she mumbled to herself. “It is simply too good to pass up.”
“Oh my goodness,” Kitty exclaimed a moment later, when she spotted the records in Ororo’s hands. “Were you planning to sell those? Wolverine just loves Johnny Cash. I can’t stand it myself, but he’d be gaga over those!”
Sighing, now resigned to her fate, Ororo shook her head. “I was not intending to sell such treasures.”
Kitty snorted. “I’ll never get old people. CDs are just so much more convenient.”
“Old?”
While her friend blushed prettily, the young owner made his way over to them, giving both women a thorough once-over. Ororo fought the urge to roll her eyes. This too-thin slip of a boy was much too young to understand a woman’s needs. Logan could teach him a thing or two.
She stopped that self-destructive train of thought immediately.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Ororo indicated to the stack of records. “How much for these records?”
The boy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll take a reasonable offer. They’ve been taking up space since my Granddaddy passed on.”
“Twenty dollars?” she offered easily.
“Someone’s willing to pay that much for these dusty old things?” he seemed shocked by her meager offer.
“That’s what I say!” Kitty chimed in, silenced by Ororo’s sharp look.
“I have an affection for records,” Ororo explained.
“Well, make it forty and I’ll throw in my Granddaddy’s player. I think he’d be a helluva lot happier someone’s enjoying his collection. It was his pride and joy.”
Upon hearing that, Ororo amended her offer to fifty dollars and went home with the player and Granddaddy’s entire collection.
~**~
When the girls returned from their shopping spree, Prita was immediately tucked into bed for her mid-morning nap. Colossus then helped them unload the Explorer, wise enough to not comment on the amount of trips it was likely to take from the garage to the dormitories. He did not even complain when made to haul Prita’s antique dresser up the stairs.
Once everything was in her room, Ororo began to sort through her new things. Of course, the first order of business was to unpack her record player immediately and play one of her new treasures.
While Ray Charles warbled about the “Mess Around”, she smiled and meticulously packed everything away. As Aretha belted out “Natural Woman”, she sang along quietly and made her bed. It was, in a way, utter perfection.
There was still the issue of Logan’s “gift”. She bit her lip while cleaning his records and ensuring the player was in good condition. The previous owner had obviously taken a good deal of pride in his collection; everything was in excellent order.
She could always just break into his bedroom and leave the player and records on his bed. He would likely smell her all over the items, but at least it would save her a potentially embarrassing explanation.
Deciding that was the best course of action, she filled her arms with Johnny Cash, June Carter, Willie Nelson, Patsy Cline, and Hank Williams, the record player acting as a foundation so the lot wouldn’t spill from her arms.
Stealthily, she popped out of her bedroom, listening for indications that someone was in the hallway. Logan was in the garage with Scott, last she checked. If she moved swiftly enough, she might escape notice. In the X-Mansion, if someone wanted to go unnoticed, they must be quick.
Logan’s bedroom door was unlocked. It took a mere minute to carefully lay his gifts on the bed. Satisfied with her work, Ororo turned to leave, hoping no one would see her exit Logan’s bedroom. Even if he were downstairs, there would likely be talk.
“Now that’s the second time you’ve broken into my room, darlin’.”
Damn it! she thought with venom, turning slowly to face Logan. He was smiling, leaning in the doorway as he used a once-white rag to wipe engine grease from his hands.
“I am sorry, I just wanted to leave this for you,” she said, willing her knees to stop knocking.
It really was ridiculous what this man could do to her.
“Leave me what?”
On a mental sigh, she moved aside, revealing the cache she’d stowed on his bed. Her heart tripped when Logan moved quickly into the room, eyeing the stack of records with something akin to joy on his normally scowling face.
“Holy hell!”
“Do you like it?”
“Like? Like’s not even close!” Logan flipped through the records quickly. “My God, an original recording of Pasty Cline’s “Showcase” album. Where in the hell did you find these?”
Smiling at his obvious enthusiasm, she tilted her head, watching as he held each record reverently. She had known he would enjoy the works of Cash, but his pleasure over the others made her heart leap in her chest.
“Kitty and I went to a few garage sales this morning,” she explained. “A young man was sitting on a treasure trove left by his Grandfather. I bought the entire collection and the player.”
Logan glanced at her, rewarding her efforts with one of his easy grins. “There was more?”
She pretended to look innocent. “Well, I did keep the jazz and blues selections for myself. I thought you might enjoy the older country.”
“You thought right,” he grunted in satisfaction. Before she could react, he leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. “This is great.”
Cheeks flaming with sudden heat, Ororo nodded mutely. She did not feel awkward for giving him the gift, as he did not seem to question her motives. She watched as he cleared off a space on his dresser. He set the player on it, already humming to himself.
“I will leave you to your records, then,” she cleared her throat, wanting a quick escape.
“Just hang on,” he muttered, bending at the waist to plug the player into an outlet.
She tried to object, but her voice refused to work. Instead, she stood dumbly, watching as he eased Patsy from her sleeve. He took up a clean white t-shirt, ensuring the black surface was free of anything that might harm the needle.
Logan placed the needle to the spinning record, then turned to her as the first few haunting notes of whatever song he’d chosen began to play.
“It’s cliché, been done in movies since the sixties, but…” he trailed off when he reached her.
Ororo recognized the song a heartbeat later, even as Logan stepped closer, one of his arms winding around her waist. Unable to think of a good reason to resist, she laid one of her own on his shoulder, clasping her fingers around his when their free hands met.
Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” filled the room as Logan pulled her close, weaving them in a slow circle. He smelled of engine grease and sweat, but she inhaled deeply. It was such a masculine, such a Logan scent that it sent a thrill racing down her spine. She moved a little closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder.
“Your love for this music,” she began, speaking quietly so she would not break the moment. “Is it a memory from before?”
She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest, over the rhythmic thud of his heart.
“No,” he replied, his lips at her hair so that every word’s breath shifted the unbound locks. “I’d be in a bar somewhere, hear somethin’ I liked and I’d look it up. There’s nothin’ like old records.”
“Amazing,” she muttered.
“What’s that, darlin’?”
“We have something in common.”
They fell into silence, bodies swaying to the music as though there was nothing else in the world. Ororo’s terrified mind was quiet, allowing her heart to capture this simple moment. It seemed so different from the blinding, debilitating desire she usually felt in regards to Logan that for a moment, she wondered why she resisted him at all.
Her body molded against his as though made to fit exactly. He hummed into her ear, his fingers gliding over hers with aching tenderness. Ororo felt the protective walls around her heart begin to crumble.
It should have frightened her into flight, but there was something so comfortable about being in his arms that she forgot why. Even when the song ended, changing to something she did not recognize, she did not release him.
“Petite?”
Hearing Gambit’s voice, Ororo lifted her head from Logan’s shoulder, feeling him turn toward the open doorway. Remy’s lanky frame filled the doorway, his face not betraying any emotions that might startle the dancing couple. Though Logan and Ororo stopped moving, neither had relinquished their holds.
“Is something the matter?” Ororo asked, waiting for her head to catch up with her.
“Jus’ lettin’ Stormy know, Rogue say lunch ready,” his voice was gentle, giving no hint to what was happening in his head.
Disappointed that this stolen moment was now to be reduced to memory, Ororo nodded.
“We will be down in a moment, thank you.”
As though sensing his dismissal, Gambit vanished from the doorway with a flutter of his worn duster.
“He’s quiet,” Logan observed when the intruder was gone.
“He has spent many years developing that talent.”
When she pulled back, her eyes met Logan’s, finding them warm and inviting. Something in the back of her mind screamed that this was uncharted territory. She felt the urge to flee, but her body seemed too enraptured with Logan’s embrace.
“We should be gettin’ down.”
“Yes.” She regained enough motor control to lower her arms, hating how lonely they felt.
She feared he would speak again or move to detain her as she left the room, but he remained silent and motionless, allowing her to escape. Ororo wasn’t sure if she was encouraged or terrified by what that meant. Drawing her usual aloof calm about her, she stepped out of the room.
Before she could vanish around the corner, Logan called her name. She turned, capturing the image of him standing alone and stained with the whine of Patsy’s voice surrounding him in the deepest, most secret parts of her memory.
“Thanks for the dance,” he rumbled softly.
Touched, more than she would have liked, Ororo could not stop the small, pleased smile that covered her lips.
“You are welcome.”
As she left him behind, Ororo shook her head. That ended better than the last.
~**~
Ororo had a book open on her lap as she lounged in the mansion’s busy game room later that evening. Gambit had roped his new found “group” into a game of pool as the lazy Sunday began to wind down.
Iceman and Jubilee were currently winning, though Rogue and Gambit seemed more intent on brushing against one another than playing the game. Ororo watched the group of young people with a smile on her face, enjoying the sight of hormone-engaged youth at it’s finest.
Some kind of heavy rock band was wailing out of the elaborate sound system Charles had purchased some years ago. The large, airy room was soundproofed, so long as the wide French doors were closed, allowing the teenagers to blast their music as loud as they liked.
Ororo ignored the noise they referred to as music, content to enjoy her perch on the long chaise butted against the enormous windows. A soft, sweet breeze wound it’s way into the room, making her eyes droop sleepily.
The dance shared with Logan still floated in and out of her mind, even as she attempted to draw up a checklist of things the teachers needed to complete before the new term began. Henry and Scott had left this morning on a recruitment mission, promising to behave themselves while scouting for young mutants in need of help.
Charles had vanished into the gardens some time ago, his energy levels doubled as his recovery neared completion. She could hardly believe that only a few weeks had passed since his near-fatal heart attack. It was remarkable to see him so revitalized.
With care over her penmanship, Ororo filled in a spreadsheet for classes and students, cross-referencing it with age groups and mutations. The X-Men had been granted a slow few months in the fight for mutant rights, aside from the misadventure in Georgia.
Humming to the tune of Patsy Cline in her mind, Ororo worked quietly, glancing up when the young people at the billiard table shouted with triumph or groaned in defeat. Gambit, she noted with some amusement, seemed unable to tear his eyes from lovely Rogue.
The girl still held a somewhat haunted look in her eyes and she never spoke of the woman whose life she’d taken. Ororo and Charles spoke about it, at length, earlier in the afternoon, finally coming to the conclusion that he had interfered enough. With help from her friends, she would move on in her own time, at her own pace.
Satisfied with that decision, Ororo was content to leave her to her friends, wondering just what she and Gambit spoke of when they frequently went “off the radar” in secret places on the grounds. Ororo knew -- better than anyone -- that Remy could be a wonderful listener when he wanted to be.
She guessed Rogue had his full attention whenever she desired it.
The French doors opened, drawing her gaze to the burly figure scowling around a lit cigar.
“What in the fuckin’ hell are you listenin’ to?” he demanded over the whine of a guitar solo. “How could you let them kill brain cells with this shit, Storm?”
Biting back laughter at his offended stance, she shrugged her shoulders. “I was outvoted.”
“You’re bigger than them, turn this shit off,” he shook his head as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.
Ororo nodded, standing from her perch on the chaise and handing Logan her work when he neared. Though the children voiced serious displeasure, she switched the disc in the player from something labeled as “Metallica” to Jerry Lee Lewis’ Greatest Hits.
“Ok, Ah can live with this, Ah guess,” Rogue mumbled, bobbing her head to the talented piano notes of “Shake, Rattle, an’ Roll”.
“Much better, ‘Ro, thanks,” Logan agreed as she came back to the chaise.
The others muttered their agreement, going back to their new pool game. Logan had taken a seat on the chair beside the chaise, handing her back the lapdesk she’d been using.
“Chuck told me you were workin’ on the new schedule,” he said, pointing to the manila folder in his hands. “Thought we should talk about it.”
With a small noise of agreement, she flipped open her folder, showing him what she’d done thus far. The group would have a staff meeting when Henry and Scott returned, so she hoped to be finished with everything in the next few days.
“Hey,” Logan said, looking around suddenly. “Where’s the rugrat?”
Smiling, Ororo gestured toward the parlor. “Watching a Veggie Tales video with Kitty and Peter. I think our young soon-to-be-newlyweds wanted to discuss wedding details.”
“Huh,” he grunted, taking her folder from her. “Can you believe she asked me to walk her down the aisle?”
Surprised by this, and that Kitty never mentioned it during their outing, she smiled. “I hope you agreed.”
“Course I did,” Logan scratched his chin, leafing through the various papers in her folder. “If I’d said no, she’d have cried all over me.”
Chuckling, Ororo mimicked his movements, searching through the records from last term. Scott kept things in meticulous order, for which she was grateful.
“Figure you can start the honors classes again, if you want,” Wolverine said a moment later. “I wouldn’t mind keeping a few if you don’t want to go back to full time yet.”
“That would be preferable,” she agreed. “Perhaps we can share one of the defense classes as well?”
“Works for me,” he marked it down in the margin of her spreadsheet. “I’m taking physical education again this term. One-Eye’s got problems with all powers allowed dodgeball.”
“How is that fair?” she questioned with an arched brow.
“Ain’t,” he grunted. “But it teaches ‘em how to think on their feet.”
“You have a point there.”
The continued working in relative silence, drawing up a schedule and timetable with minimal overlaps. It became obvious that Logan truly enjoyed working with the children and took pride in how well his history students tested at the end of the term.
It was, perhaps, the most civil and calm conversation they’d had in two years. Without even Prita as a crutch, they managed to work without their personal life interfering. Ororo wondered what he had been like after her abrupt departure from the X-Men. Had he been dragged into teaching kicking and screaming? Or did he accept it, coming deeper and deeper into the familial fold?
Her heart skipped a few beats every time their hands brushed, bringing her back to their first meeting. She’d been nearly breathless, seeing him in the Professor’s office. He was so lost, so interesting that she felt her heart leave her immediately.
It all came crashing down when Jean entered the room. She’d seen the look on his face, the lingering stare that reminded her that the telekinetic woman would always be preferable to a cold, white-haired mutant. She’d tried, from that moment on, to fight her attraction to Logan.
Unfortunately, that plan had not worked out as she would have liked.
“Hey,” she heard Logan snap his fingers, surprised when she finally noticed he was trying to get her attention. “Where’d you take off to?”
“No where,” she smiled softly. “Lost in my thoughts.”
“You do that,” he smirked. “Wanna share what’s on your mind?”
“Jean,” Ororo said without thinking.
Logan’s smile faded and he turned his eyes back to the paperwork in his hands.
“I’ll go give this to Chuck, he’ll wanna look over it.”
Before she could stop him, Logan gathered their work into his hands and replaced the chair to its normal spot. Ororo sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the chaise, as though to give chase.
“Logan, wait.”
Her call went unanswered and he left the room as quietly as he’d come. Ororo sat back against the swooping arm of the chaise, rubbing her temples to fight off the building headache forming between her eyes.
She wanted to explain that she only thought of Jean with fondness and not jealousy now, but how could she when he continued to clam up at the very mention of her name. Sighing, she wondered if his torch for her dead friend would ever be extinguished. Would she always be the second choice?
“Petite?”
Tilting her head, she looked at Gambit upside down, frowning at the serious look on his handsome face.
“When my Roro gon understan’ that de Wolverine ain’t Forge?”
“I do not compare the two,” she defended instantly.
“Maybe not ‘ere,” he tapped her forehead. “But ‘ere, oui.”
She sighed when he placed his hand over her heart briefly. “Gambit…”
“Stormy won’t learn anyting if she won’ let go. Gambit tink you tryin’ too hard.”
Before she could contradict him, he’d already turned back to his game, leaving her more confused than ever.
~**~
Ororo speaks:
Gambit did have a point. Though I rarely thought about Forge, his abrupt abandonment had scarred my heart more than I wanted to admit. I knew Forge was a man that demanded answers; like me, he enjoyed having a plan and following it to perfection.
When I hesitated at his offer of marriage, it was only to ensure I wanted that life with him. And at the time, I did with all my heart. With the clarity granted by hindsight, it was probably best that he did leave me. Though our marriage would have been lasting, I am unsure as to whether it would have been truly fulfilling, for either of us. Forge enjoyed my tightly wound control, but there were times when I wanted to let loose.
Logan was Forge’s opposite and part of me truly feared that. Though I enjoyed misbehaving and allowing my adventurous side to occasionally see daylight, Logan made it almost impossible to rein those impulses in.
Either way, that day spun me around until I was unable to detect which side of me was dominant. My intellectual tendencies cherished that afternoon in the game room and the soft, swaying dance in Logan’s bedroom. My greedy primal side seemed stuck on passionate kisses and needy touches.
I heard whispers that Logan had something planned for that evening, but we never got to it. You see, none of us really noticed how Rogue was rebelling against us. At least, not until late that night.
In fact, none of us knew anything was really and truly wrong until Gambit and Rogue ran away.
