Chapter Eleven: It Burns
Love is a burning thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire
~Johnny Cash
Logan speaks:
I still can’t hear Patsy Cline without thinkin’ of that dance. The way she felt in my arms, the smell of her hair, it’s all a part of me. Years later, no matter how bad things got, I could always put on that record and just drift into memory.
She wanted me to forget about her, but it proved impossible. Every memory I had of her seemed to return more and more often. It wasn’t hard to admit I was falling for her now. I’d known it was comin’, prepared for it even. I was terrified she’d reject me. Nothing stopped it once started though.
I couldn’t name it then, but the emotion in my chest grew with every minute that ticked by. I’d always thought love would feel like a warm, soft blanket. It came to me a little differently. Searing flame is more like it, actually.
I’d wandered outside after leavin’ her in the game room. It wasn’t that talkin’ about Jean was hard or anythin’, but I figured talkin’ about her with Storm was just askin’ for another shoutin’ match. I decided to just leave before it got outta hand.
Funny, how things work out. It was a surprise when I found myself at Jean’s grave. Maybe I still needed to say goodbye, out loud an’ all. Either way, I spent the rest of that afternoon an’ evenin’ talkin’ to our Jean.
~**~
“Hey, Jeannie?” Logan crouched beside the marble stone engraved with her name, wiping away the dirt and dead leaves that nature had blown over it. “What would you say to me an’ ‘Ro? Don’t tell me you’d be jealous.”
He chuckled at his own joke, wondering if Jean was smiling at him, shaking her head in that amused and disapproving manner. Dusk was falling over the mansion, though he’d only just finished telling her about Rogue’s new powers and Gambit’s appearance.
“Bet you’d think it was hysterical, wouldn’t ya?” he continued. “Cause I’m tellin’ ya, Red, she’s got me spinnin’ in circles. Can’t tell what end’s up when she’s around. Feels like…feels like I’m standin’ on a cliff, about to take that leap into midair an’ hopin’ she’ll be there to jump off with me, jus’ so I won’t be alone.”
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck, settling his backside on the cool grass that covered her grave. The small dish of oil from which Jean’s memorial flame burned needed to be replenished; he’d mention it to Chuck tomorrow.
“I’m an idiot, Jeannie,” Logan went on. “What in the hell was I thinkin’? I can only remember the last…eighteen years or so of my life, but somethin’ tells me this thing with ‘Ro is definitely a first.
Cyckie seems to think I’ve got a chance an’ after that dancin’ bit today, he might be right. Guess I should really be askin’ if I deserve her. What do you think, darlin’?”
As usual, there was no response to his question. Logan imagined her presence was on the gentle breeze that kicked up around him. He thought that perhaps she did approve and was working on a way to help him out.
“Any luck up there?” he squinted, looking into the blue-black heavens. “Wanna give me some advice? A little shove? Anythin’?”
When the expected silence stretched beyond several minutes, Logan sighed, looking back at the headstone as he pulled his knees up, draping his arms over them.
“I’m crazy about her, Jean,” he said in a quiet tone. “I don’t care if it takes me years, I’m gonna have her. I’m gonna have days with her, months, years, until we’re old and gray.”
He chuckled to himself. “I can’t believe it’s me sayin’ this. But it’s what I want. Maybe after I wear her down enough to accept me, we can see about marriage an’ babies an’ all. I’m nuts about Prita, too. I’m turnin’ into a sap, and I blame it on Cyclops.”
If he listened hard enough in the dark, he could hear Jean’s soft laughter. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, girl! I’m just bein’ honest. I’m thinkin’ we could use a night out together. Maybe hit a movie and have dinner. I got Chuck to keep the kids occupied, Jubi’s gonna help Kitty take care of the kiddo. Made sure Rogue and Gambit are busy. Scott’s with Hank…maybe if I make it sound like everyone’s off doin’ their own, I can get her outside. Whatcha think?”
If there was an answer, it was cut off by a call of his name. Ears twitching, Logan turned his head, standing in one fluid motion.
His hands balled into fists, but the adamantium hidden by his skin remained in place.
“Kitten? What’s wrong?” Logan questioned when he spotted the familiar, female figure rushing toward him.
“We’ve got a problem,” Kitty panted when she reached him. “Rogue and Gambit took off.”
~**~
Inside the mansion had been thrust into complete chaos. Logan and Kitty entered through the kitchen door, and rushed into the parlor, where it seemed an impromptu meeting was taking place. Even the Professor had wheeled into the room, trying to quiet the maddening chatter off too many raised voices.
Prita was in her mother’s arms, whining and kicking to be set free. Logan crossed the room to the pair, swooping the fussing child into his arms and plopping her on his shoulders so she could distract herself by playing with his hair.
“What’s goin’ on?” he demanded on Storm.
She stood, lacking almost all of her usual serenity, with a lip clenched between her teeth.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I went to ask Rogue if she wanted a nighttime flying lesson and all I found was this.”
Her delicate hands took a slip of paper from her pocket, which she handed to him silently. Logan’s eyes flicked over the familiar scrawl of his young friend.
Everyone,
Went away with Gambit for a while. I need time to think. I’m sorry, Logan.
Love,
Rogue
“That’s helpful,” he snarled, crumpling the note in his hands. “Your damned Cajun took off with her!”
Storm was immediately on her guard, the irritated flash in her eyes telling him he was steadily losing ground in the winning-her-over department. He wasn’t concerned with that now. He intended to locate Marie and haul her back to the mansion, by the hair if need be. If the situation called for it, he’d beat the hell out of the Ragin’ Cajun while he was at it.
“I believe Marie incapable of being coerced into anything,” she retorted, weaving her arms beneath her breasts. “She is an adult.”
“Yeah,” Logan replied sarcastically. “An’ your friend’s a born womanizer. He could charm the bark off a tree.”
“Wolverine, you do not know him,” she shot back. “I have no doubt in my mind that the decision to leave was mutual.”
“Aw, bullshit,” he thundered, leaning down so Jubilee could collect Prita from his shoulders. “You knew somethin’ like this was gonna happen!”
“Did I?” Ororo’s voice had reached the point of shouting. “Of course, I did. I planned the entire thing, wasn’t that clever of me?”
“If anything happens to Rogue, I won’t be responsible for what happens to the swamp rat!”
“If you lay one hand on him, I will show you exactly how it feels to be struck by lightning!”
“You don’t wanna get in my way, Storm!”
“Do not try my patience, Wolverine!”
The mansion shook in the aftermath of a massive clap of thunder. His ears ringing from the sound, Logan flinched, then met Ororo’s glowing white eyes. Oh, she was angry, perhaps more so than he’d ever seen her.
Though he wanted to throttle her with his bare hands, he was momentarily stunned by how ethereal she seemed in that moment. Beast told him, a good while ago, that she’d once been worshipped in the savannahs of Africa. In that instant, Logan understood why someone would put her on a pedestal so high.
“Stop.”
Chuck’s voice held none of the weary tone he’d had for the last month or so. That one word seemed to vibrate in both Logan’s ears and his mind. He sheathed his claws, unaware that they’d even been released sometime during his argument with Storm.
She, however, seemed neither threatened nor moved as the razor-sharp metal slipped back into his hands.
“This will solve nothing,” Chuck continued when the arguing pair turned to him. “Rogue obviously left of her own volition.”
“Do mean to not pursue them?” Storm inquired, her tone back to its normal level.
The bald man shook his head, raising a hand when they both moved to speak. “For now, we will wait them out. If they have not returned in a few days, I will grant permission for you both to retrieve them. Unharmed.”
With a growl, Logan turned his back on his family, stomping toward the elevator that would lead to the lower levels. If he stayed in close contact with everyone, he would likely cause irreparable damage.
No one called him back or tried to stop him as he stepped into the elevator. Before the heavy metal door could close, his eyes met Ororo’s.
She stood alone in the hall, eyes back to their brilliant blue. There was an odd twitch to her lips, as though she wanted to say something. Sadness filled her sapphire gaze and for a moment, he reached up to stop the door from closing.
He dropped his hand a beat later, letting the door slide closed. A glimpse of her suddenly icy exterior seemed to sear him from the inside out. He wanted to go to her, to tell her that somehow, everything would be right again. He desperately wished to go back to just hours before, when they’d danced in his room.
Pain singed his heart with the violence of unchecked flame. It roiled in the pit of his stomach, warring with the side of him that wanted to drown in it. Was that truly pain? Anger? Resentment? Or was it that his growing love for the white-cropped goddess seemed eager to brand him from the inside out?
Leaning his palms on the elevator door, as he had the day of Rogue’s secondary mutation, Logan inhaled deeply.
“It burns,” he whispered to himself, thinking of Storm’s sorrowful eyes. “It burns.”
~**~
Two days after Rogue and Gambit vanished from the mansion, Cyclops and Beast returned. Never in all of his life had Logan been so happy to see them. Tension filled the mansion to the point of physical pain. Most avoided allowing Logan and Ororo in the same room for longer than a moment, as though afraid any more time together would only stir them up.
Prita often found her way into Logan’s room, usually by evading her babysitters or mother. Once inside, she would climb up onto his bed and watch as he took care of his things.
He told her all about the proper care of old records and discussed with his rapt audience the intricacies of a fine cigar. Heeding Ororo’s wishes, he never smoked with the baby in the room, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show her how one was selected.
The child seemed to adore playing with clothing as well. Hardly a visit from her went by without Logan’s things winding up on the floor. He allowed it, watching with a smile on his face as she attempted to don his enormous t-shirts.
This was the scene on Tuesday afternoon. Cash was singing about life behind bars on the record player as Logan lay on his stomach across the bed, watching Prita model his clothing from her place on the floor. He cherished these few moments alone with her, letting that warm innocence soothe his fractured soul for a while.
“Hey,” Cyclops said, appearing at the open bedroom door. “What’s going on in here?”
“Come on in,” Wolverine gestured to his friend. “Princess here is showing me how to wear my jeans.”
Scott was chuckling as he entered the room, peeking around the bed at the little darling currently babbling a mile a minute.
“Turning into a chatterbox,” the younger man commented.
“Yeah, her first actual word can’t be far off.”
Scott was quiet for a moment, both men content to watch the little one play for a time. Logan knew it wouldn’t last; his thoughts confirmed a minute later.
“I heard about Rogue and Gambit,” he said cautiously. “I take it you never got Storm out of here?”
“Nope, we decided to have a shoutin’ match instead,” Logan grumbled.
“Those are always fun,” said Cyclops wryly. “Have you talked to her since?”
“Nope.”
“Planning to?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Rather sit here listening to Johnny Cash, watching her daughter play with your underwear and brood?”
“Uh-huh.”
There was a short, tense silence in which Logan could hear Scott sigh.
“You’re a lot of things, Wolverine,” he said quietly. “But I never took you for a coward.”
Before Logan could sit up, Cyclops was gone. Growling to himself, claws itching for release, he turned back to Prita. The tiny, dark-skinned child had a pair of his boxers on her head, the elastic band almost covering her eyes.
She looked up at him and grinned to show off fleshy gums and four tiny teeth.
Unable to stop himself, Logan’s lips twitched with the onset of a smile, followed swiftly by an amused chuckle.
“You’re crazy, kid.”
Prita’s grin widened and she stood awkwardly. A few wobbly steps over the pile of clothing on the floor brought her to the edge of his bed. Her tiny, chubby hands grasped his hairy forearm so she could lean up, touching his nose with hers.
“Hi,” he said quietly. “Whatcha doin’?”
Every time he looked at Prita, he thought of Storm. Though the last words they’d spoken to one another had been screeched in anger, he thought his heart would burn black from the intensity of what he was feeling.
She reached inside him, churning up parts he hadn’t known existed. She was fiery passion and soft tenderness in one shot. It called to him, begging to be tasted and savored. He wanted to go to her now, scoop her into his arms and lay claim on what his heart designated was rightfully his. He’d hurt her again, but no more than she’d hurt him.
Fighting over their best friends wasn’t really the most mature thing in the world, but he couldn’t help but worry over Marie. She was young, impressionable, and shouldering a burden that shouldn’t have been hers. Gambit was dangerous, as least to him. The red-eyed man, though obviously enamored with Marie, wasn’t the type girls brought home to Papa.
Prita’s deep black eyes were still directly in front of his, her nose pressed against his tenderly.
“What should I do, kid?” he asked of her. “Leave Rogue to get hurt? Tell your mom I think I’m in love with her? Or just hang out with you?”
Like Jean, Prita did not have an answer for him, but the little girl kissed the tip of his nose sweetly. He gave her a small half-grin.
“That’s ok, darlin’. It’s somethin’ I need to do on my own, isn’t it?”
Jubilee appeared a moment or so later, knocking on the open door.
“Hey, Storm asked me to make sure she gets her nap,” said the young girl, obviously aware that she was breaking up a rather private moment.
“Yeah, sure,” Logan nodded, sliding off of the bed and divesting the girl of his clothing.
Prita gave him a hug when he lifted her into his arms, following it up with a lip-smacking kiss to the cheek before he handed her off to Jubilee.
“Uh,” Jubilee stammered a little as Logan waved goodbye to Prita. “Storm also had a message for you.”
Scowling, more because the girl expected it than anything else, he grunted.
“Hey, don’t kill the messenger,” Jubilee defended. “She just said that she would be in the greenhouse for a while.”
It was a subtle hint, he thought. She gave him an invitation, but no pressure to actually meet her there. It was likely that she wanted to talk about Rogue and Gambit; the greenhouse ensured another shouting match would disturb no one, should they both feel the need to let their tempers reign.
“Yeah,” Logan told Jubilee. “Make sure you give Princess here her elephant when you put her down. I’ll be in the greenhouse.”
Jubilee smiled prettily. “Ok. Want my monitor?”
Nodding, Logan took the slender device and clipped it to the belt holding his jeans up. He walked with the two young girls until they reached Prita’s bedroom door. When the little one tried to whimper, a clever move to buy her way out of a nap, Logan told her on no uncertain terms that she was to nap as Jubi instructed.
With her pout following him, Logan steeled his spine and headed for the back staircase. If Storm wanted to talk, he’d talk. He just wanted to see her again.
~**~
The greenhouse always smelled fantastic. Earth and water and the unmistakable scent of growth, life. They were not left unattended in Ororo’s absence. He would often find Hank or Peter inside, carefully tending to the flowers and herbs Storm left behind.
It was nearing midmorning when Logan found his way to the tall, enclosed greenhouse where Ororo said she would be. With Prita snuggled away in her bed and the others giving both Wolverine and Storm wide berth, it was a good time to talk.
He tried to tell himself that the double beat of his heart was just because he’d taken the steps too fast. No matter how ridiculous it seemed, it was an excuse.
The door leading into the expansive and humid space was open, so he entered quietly, sharp eyes searching for the signature white hair. Ororo stood at a long table, her hands caked with potting soil as she dutifully transplanted a few of the cuttings Cyclops had started some months back.
“Are we talkin’ or shoutin’?” he said by way of greeting.
Ororo turned her glorious head, giving him a look that clearly said “I’d stick my tongue out at you if I dignity would allow it.”
“Funny, very funny,” she said, motioning for him to come closer with a jerk of her head.
Logan moved all the way inside, smiling faintly. There was a large, open space on the table where she worked, so he hopped up onto it. Ignoring her look of disapproval, he peeked over to see what she was working on.
Her long, delicate fingers worked spirals of roots free from the too-small pots before she lowered the growing plant into a new home. He watched quietly as she packed in more of the loose soil around the roots, ensuring it would not tip or grow at an odd angle.
“You’re pretty good at that,” he remarked.
“I have had practice,” she replied, looking at him from under her curling lashes. “Are you still cross with me?”
“Cross?” Logan shrugged. “I wasn’t cross. I was pissed off.”
That elicited a much-desired chuckle from his playmate. “You are in a mood. What did Prita do?”
Grinning widely, Logan shook his head. “She had my boxers on her head.”
“Oh my,” Ororo laughed heartily, brushing the loose earth from her hands as she finished her potting.
He did not offer his help as she moved the now-full tray into a nearby rack, knowing she would only shoo him away. The greenhouse was her arena and he would respect that.
When she faced him again, he patted the clear space on the table beside him, inviting her to sit. “Walk on the wild side and sit on the damn table, ‘Ro.”
Accepting his challenge, she fitted her denim-covered backside on the table, her long legs swinging carelessly. How she managed to still looked dignified and purposeful when sitting on a table in a hot greenhouse, he would never know.
“I think we got riled up,” he said in lieu of a flat out apology.
“A little, perhaps,” she agreed, fidgeting with the dirt under her nails. “I am protective of Gambit.”
“Yeah,” Logan cleared his throat. “Same with me an’ Marie.”
They lapsed into a semi-comfortable silence, with him looking at her and her eyes on her hands. She did not shift to move her legs, so her thigh grazed his. Just that simple contact was satisfying and inflaming at the same time.
After she scratched her nose, he spoke again.
“What do you think they’re doin’?”
Ororo paused, raising her eyes so that she concentrated on the glass side of the greenhouse, a slightly thoughtful furrow creasing her brow. He had the maddening impulse to lean over and kiss that line between her eyebrows.
“Healing,” she said at last. “I thought that Gambit’s enthusiasm to come here was simply out of his desire to see me, now I believe I may have been incorrect.”
“Wanna run that one by me again?”
She sighed, pouting her lips and blowing a lock of hair from her eyes. “Usually he makes some pretense of what an inconvenience it will be. I had barely identified myself before he was offering to come out. It was not like him.”
“Huh,” Logan grunted. “So, you’ve got a Cajun too far from the Bayou with some kinda issues an’ a Southern girl with a lot on her shoulders…”
“You are tired, afraid, and rebellious…” Ororo continued for him.
“An’ you have an itch to just get away, be with each other.”
“So, you leave and hope the others will give you some time alone before they drag you back by the hair.”
Amused that she echoed his thoughts from the other night, Logan grunted again, nodding his head slightly. Put in a young couple’s logic that way, it did make sense. When he began to think about it all instead of simply reacting, he admitted that it was probably good for the two of them to have some time to themselves.
If Gambit was heading down a similar path that Logan found himself traveling, the kid could use some time to get used to the idea. Loving someone was one thing. Having it returned upped the ante. Being in love without even the prospect of physical contact anywhere in the future or present would make lesser men fold completely.
“I worry about them.” Ororo’s soft admission broke into his thoughts.
“You worry about everybody.”
“Touché,” she chuckled again, the smoky sound making him lean a little closer.
To his surprise, she shifted closer to him, their dangling feet meeting over the edge of the table. He nudged her back, keeping the contact light so as not to startle her. Ororo glanced up at him, a smile on her beautiful face. He returned the gesture when she tapped his foot again.
They continued for several seconds, reveling in the quiet of the greenhouse. When she turned her face to his fully, he spotted a smudge of dirt on her nose. Without thinking, he raised his hand, capturing her chin to hold her still. With the thumb of his free hand, he wiped away the smidge, surprised when she did not attempt to flee.
Though the dirt was gone, he continued touching her face, his eyes meeting hers. She seemed to search his gaze for a long moment, so he allowed her to. His heart leapt to a thundering tattoo, the scent and touch of her driving his senses into immediate overload.
After several long, almost breathless moments, Ororo leaned closer to him. Caught up in the moment, finding the true blue of her eyes filled with inviting warmth, he flattened his palm to cup her cheek. Her breathing accelerated then caught in her throat, the rhythm of her heart jumping to match his own.
Precious inches remained between them and though he wanted to swoop in to take her lips as his own, he held himself in tight check. This would be done at her pace or not at all. Logan felt as though his mind shut down as he waited for her to move. The scant space between them seemed so minuscule, so unimportant.
Ororo’s eyes were open to him for perhaps the first time since they’d met. He could see a hundred emotions he’d never have time to name if given a millennia. When something that struck him as doubt floated close to the surface of those sapphire pools, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek, trying to silently soothe it away.
Her eyes fluttered, nearly remaining closed at the touch. He felt his own lids grow heavy under the heady intoxication her nearness furnished him with.
A heartbeat later, Ororo closed the distance between them, brushing her full, succulent lips over his with aching tenderness. Logan’s eyes fell shut completely and he sought her mouth again, keeping his touch light and unrestricting.
Ororo leaned into him, her hands coming up to rest over his, which still cupped her face. Logan’s heart stuttered and stopped, the perfection of this moment committed to the most secret places of his heart and memory. She tasted of honey and smelled of rain and earth. It was intimate and temperate though undercurrents warned of fiery passion that would build in a slow burn that was made to last.
Scarce minutes, long hours, or several days could have gone by without his notice. He knew only her, only the peace and sanctity of her embrace.
When breathing became an insistent bodily demand, he pulled away slowly, hoping to retain and leave traces of this first, true kiss shared between them. Her eyes sought his immediately, this time filled with longing.
That’s it, he thought as the beast slumbered inside him. I’ve gone and fallen in love.
Aloud, he whispered, not wanting harsh voices to break this everlasting moment.
“Dinner? You an’ me? Out?”
She did not hesitate, but brought her arms up to wrap about his neck, her lips grazing his in a way that sent his head directly back into the clouds she loved.
“Yes.”
