Chapter Three: Caught in the Sun
I’m trying to escape you
But I know there ain’t no way to
Chase you from my mind
~The Cult
He woke in a panting sweat, his body on high alert. Every hair on his body stood on end. His eyes darted over the room that had become his in fear and anticipation.
It was a dream. It was always a damned dream.
She would come to him in the silence of the night, smelling of honey and earth and rain. He took her, hard and fast until they were both mindless with the passion that overwhelmed them both. But all her long white hair changed to sudden red, her blue eyes morphing into green.
The women that haunted his dreams fought for dominance, until they had killed one another. And he was left alone, bitter with the lonesomeness that consumed the hours before dawn.
There were times that he wondered if he would ever be free from the hold Jean had held on him in life. It consumed him, especially in the night. All the things they could have had together, if Scott were not in the picture, if she had wanted him just as badly. She haunted him.
Storm was an entirely different matter. Though Jean had branded him long ago, he dreamt of her counterpart just as often. While Jean straddled that high pedestal he’d placed her on from their first meeting, Storm took up the place directly in front of him.
He’d known her passion, felt her writhe beneath him. The heat in her stare, the greed in her kisses, the scent of her desire was a part of him as much as the warm smile that belonged to Jean.
Confused and more annoyed than he wanted to let on, Logan tossed the covers from his legs almost violently. He jumped out of the bed, beginning to pace almost immediately, his hands thrust into his hair.
Why did she have to look more beautiful than he last saw her? Why did she still look at him as though he were the Anti-Christ? Why the hell couldn’t he just let it go?
She obviously had. That kid she’d appeared with on her hip had to be hers. The scent of motherhood was all over her. Someone warmed her bed long after he had. Whoever it was gave her a child that she quite plainly loved.
So where the hell was he?
For a moment in the airport, he’d been convinced the child was his. Seeing her come off of the walkway with that child in her arms brought a pang of something he couldn’t describe to his heart. Had it been hope? Terror? A mixture of both, perhaps?
Then her venomous words… He growled, shaking his head. How could he have been stupid enough to think his betrayal was softened by two years apart? She wore her rage and hurt like a badge on her sleeve. It wasn’t as though he blamed her. She had every right to hate his guts.
Prita wasn’t his. Storm made that abundantly clear. The child and her mother had absolutely no love for him. Maybe someday she’d let him apologize or make amends. He would figure out some way for them to live under the same roof without starting rumors or fistfights.
God, he wished she would hit him. At least then he could be sure she was getting over it, over him.
The thought of her brushing him brought a growl from his throat. Why didn’t he want her to forget him? Why did he hope she remembered how he felt against her while she fucked someone else?
He continued to pace, hating himself more every moment. Now there was not even the option to slip into her bedroom, to surround himself with her things, the echo of her presence in which to hate himself. He was banished to his own room, with his tortured thoughts and self-loathing.
Looking out of his eastern window, he noted the sun beginning to peek into the night-shrouded world. He hated the night and all the trouble it brought his aching head. In the light hours, he could forget about everything again.
Slipping a worn t-shirt over his bare chest, he padded on bare feet out of the room and into the hall. His dream still lingered on the edge of his consciousness. Before Jean’s ghost intruded, he would be buried in Storm, the memory of her.
Just the thought of having her in his arms again drove him to the brink of madness. He didn’t deserve her, not after what he’d done. He hated thinking of her that way when he’d never earned the right. But, God, she’d felt so damn good, responded to him in ways he’d never thought a woman would.
A faint, childlike giggle sounded from behind him. Turning down the hall, he noted a very naked little girl crawling as fast as she could from the general direction of Storm’s room, laughing hysterically.
Storm appeared moments later, her pajamas replaced by soft looking jeans and a simple t-shirt. She chased the baby, though it looked more than a little half-hearted.
Prita spotted Logan before her mother did and zipped across the carpeted floor to avoid capture. Mystified by the gentle laughter and dimples in her dark cheeks, Logan feinted, as though pretending to grab for her.
The baby howled with laughter, then squealed when Logan snatched her up, tickling her little sides. She giggled even harder, pointing to him as her mother approached and lighting off rapid-fire babble.
“Ah-ha!” Storm’s voice was more relaxed than he had ever heard it. “You have been detained, devil child!”
“Giving you a workout this morning?” Logan questioned, holding the squirming child above his head so she howled more.
“You have no idea,” Storm replied, reaching up to pinch a bare butt-cheek lovingly.
“Don’t they have leashes for these things?”
“Wolverine!” Storm laughed, though she chided him.
He dropped the baby, catching her swiftly. Prita giggled harder, then leaned up to kiss his whiskered cheek. Logan made a silly face for her benefit.
“Sorry kid,” he shrugged, handing her back to Storm. “Much as people like us love bein’ naked, your mom’s insisting on clothes, I think.”
“Yes, very much so,” Storm countered, settling the nude child on her hip. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” he cleared his throat, feeling the warmth of the stolen moment begin to ebb quickly. “Want some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Storm, her voice already fading back to indifference. “We will be down in a moment.”
“Yeah.”
Logan watched as mother and child made their way back to their room. He could just imagine how Storm made that baby laugh, kissed and hugged her to the point of spoiling her with affection.
The image sent a warm, fuzzy and damned unwelcome feeling to the center of his stomach. He was none too happy with his traitorous brain coupled it with a conjured mental picture of Storm swollen with child, his hand resting on her stomach.
Kicking himself in the ass, he hurried out of the hall and down the stairs. He’d only get into more trouble if he kept thinking that way. She didn’t want anything to do with him, which was her choice.
He didn’t have any right to fall for her, to want her. It was best if he just stopped it all before it started. Would have been best if he’d never held her in his arms at all.
~**~
By the time the students had finished breakfast Logan was much more settled. He easily avoided being alone with Storm as the morning wore on. Hank and Scott went directly from the morning meal to the hospital, with promises to relieve Storm, Peter, and Logan later in the day, so they could visit the Professor before his surgery.
Most of the children migrated outside, the promise of lovely weather drawing them into volleyball games and pool time. Logan refereed the game, leaving Storm to stay inside with the children that chose to study and Peter to lifeguard the pool.
This way there was no way for he and Storm to be caught alone. It would be easy to avoid her, let her get used to being back home without him around to glare at.
“Boo.”
Logan had smelled his young friend long before she’d spoken, but he jumped a little to reward her. Gripping her around the back of the neck with his arm, he gave Marie an affectionate squeeze while she squealed.
“Tryin’ to scare me, girl?”
“Just a little!” Rogue laughed as he released her. “Ya looked miles away just then.”
“I’m right here.”
“Uh-huh,” her tone spoke volumes of eye-rolling. “You ain’t been right since you met Storm at the airport.”
Logan grunted, his eyes on the game before him.
“Come to that, you ain’t been right since she left.”
“What are you getting at, kid?”
Rogue shrugged, plopping down on the grass beside him. He copied her motion, taking a seat on the sun-scorched ground.
“Just sayin’.”
“Can you say it without the cryptic crap?”
“What’s goin’ on between you and Storm?”
He contemplated his answer while calling a foul on one of the volleyball teams and ignoring the whines of protest.
“Nothin’.”
“Liar.”
Glaring at her, he shook his head.
“Leave it alone, Rogue.”
“No,” she stubbornly crossed her arms. “What happen? She reject you or somethin’?”
“Wish she had,” he muttered before he could stop himself.
“That’s interestin’.”
“Rogue, drop it. I mean it,” he growled at her.
She shrugged again, looking up at the sky in a way that made him brace himself. Whenever she looked off into space like that, she was about to hit him with a few words of wisdom that were way beyond her twenty years.
“Maybe if you weren’t so stupid over Jean, you woulda seen Storm sooner.”
Confused and more annoyed by the moment, Logan nudged her with his elbow.
“You’re doin’ the cryptic shit again.”
“Just sayin’,” Rogue turned her eyes to him, affixing a stare worthy of Charles. “You were so busy lookin’ up that somethin’ right in front of ya got caught in the sun. You let yourself get blinded and then burned.”
“You’re givin’ me a headache, kid,” Logan growled, not willing to admit how close she was to the truth.
It was true. That night he’d found Storm in the kitchen, taken her to bed, he’d realized that she had been there all along. This strong, beautiful woman was shadowed by the woman he’d given his affections to without thought. It wasn’t right, how he’d taken her because that realization dulled the pain of Jean’s death for a few moments.
And it wasn’t as though he’d taken her to bed with the thought of Jean. That betrayal had come later, and not of his own free will. He’d been honest when he whispered in the dark that the only people in the room were him and her. That’s how he’d wanted it.
Why had his own mind given him those images? Was he really so hell-bent on self-destruction that Jean could cloud everything?
While he was locked in his own thoughts, Rogue had made her escape. He sat on the grass alone, not paying attention to the game he was supposed to ref.
The truth of it was he had never given himself a chance to think about Storm that way. Until that night, she was background noise. There but never at the forefront of his thoughts. Then he’d seen her, in that white gown, sitting on the counter with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.
Everything happened so fast. He was on her, pulling her to him, tasting the chocolate ice cream on her lips. Then they were upstairs, tearing clothing off and touching every inch of skin they could.
After that, thinking of her brought him shame. But what was beneath all of that? Had she really been nothing more than physical release?
Consider this a favor…
Her parting shot echoed in his head, no matter how he tried to deny it. She’d made her decision the moment it happened.
Standing, Logan called for Bobby, asking him to look after the game. When everything was settled, he jogged into the house.
They needed to talk.
~**~
He found Storm in the kitchen. She was humming, the baby’s monitor buzzing on the counter. He could hear the faint sound of a child’s deep snore under the white noise.
“Hey.”
The lean line of Storm’s back stiffened at his causal tone. She did not turn from the assembly line from which she seemed to be making a few dozen sandwiches.
“Did you need something?”
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, begging his pounding heart to slow down. “We need to talk.”
“What about?”
Though she was outwardly cold, distant, the ice queen he’d first pegged her as, he could detect the faint thud of her heart accelerate in her chest, hear the sharp intake of breath through her nose as though controlling her breathing.
“Why did you let me have you? That night, I mean.”
Tension snapped through the room with the precision of a lightning bolt. He watched her place the butterknife she was using to spread mayonnaise deliberately on the tiled countertop.
Slowly, she looked up at him, unfathomable rage in her eyes. Logan held his ground, needing to know where they stood before either of them could move on. If it ended with her electrocuting him, so be it.
“You have no right to ask me that question.”
“I have every right,” he shot back. “I want to know what in the name of hell possessed you to sleep with me.”
For a moment, she didn’t speak. She merely bored her eyes into his, her back straighter than the counter.
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
She did not answer. Logan swallowed with a bone-dry throat.
“You knew I was hung up on Jean. Why’d you set us both up for a fall like that? You could have stopped me. You should have stopped us.”
Storm let a shuddering sigh escape her lips. “I should have.”
“All you had to say was no,” he replied, his voice gentler than he’d ever heard it. “I would have stopped and none of this would have happened.”
“I could not say no, not when you looked at me that way,” she replied in a whisper, her eyes betraying hurt more than anger now. “As though you actually saw me.”
“Damn it, Ororo,” he slammed his fist on the counter, leaning toward her. “I did, I do see you!”
“Then why,” her voice hitched. “Why did you call out her name?”
“I--” he paused. “I don’t fuckin’ know!”
They both lapsed into uncomfortable silence for a long, tense moment. All Logan could hear was the soft snore of her daughter through the monitor and their own breath. He wanted to move over to her, shake her until she gave him the answers he wanted.
“This is not the time…”
“Make it the damn time, Storm,” he growled. “I’ve hated myself for two years.”
“Good,” she hissed. “For I have hated you just as long.”
“What did you expect?” he thundered. “I was still in love with her!”
“You still are,” Ororo shouted. “And I was in love with you! I could not say no when I believed I had a chance.”
Any reply Logan might have hit her with died on his lips. He gave into impulse and moved to her, snatching her arms with his hands even as she tried to move away.
He pulled her flush against his chest, immediately swooping down to capture her lips with his. He groaned at the first, teasing contact. She still tasted of honey and rain, her body pliable against his, though she attempted to fight him.
Familiarity and longing beat into his body, demanding that he take more. He wanted to repeat that damned mistake of two years ago. The need to sweep her into his arms and take her again nearly took his knees out.
Instead, he gave into the harsh shove of her hands against his chest and pulled away.
“Don’t say was,” he growled in a low tone. “That’s what gets you, isn’t it? You still love me.”
Though she shook her head, he could almost see her resolve crumbling. She tried to hide it behind hatred and pain, but it was still there, bubbling just under the surface.
That’s what he’d sensed that night. Her wanting him, the love she’d hidden so carefully under layers of indifference. He’d clung to it, given in because it reflected what he’d lost with Jean.
He’d taken advantage of her and on some level, he’d known that.
“I’m a bastard,” he whispered, releasing her gently. “God, I can’t believe…”
“Logan…”
“Don’t,” he held up a hand, keeping her away from him. “Stay the fuck away from me, Storm.”
Her chin lifted defiantly. “Oh, have no worries on that score. You and I are nothing more than a mistake. I will get over it in time. And you should learn to live with guilt.”
“I will,” he nodded, backing away from her. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am.”
She nodded slowly. “I know.”
“Long as you know that.”
Without another word, Logan turned and left the kitchen. Once he was out of her range of vision, he put his hands back into his hair, snarling and spitting at himself. It was intentional. He’d taken Ororo to bed simply to live vicariously through her, to be closer to Jean.
At least it was in the open now. Perhaps they could move on. It was best for everyone if they did.
Logan did not stop moving until he reached his bedroom. Once there, he turned and put three holes into his wall with a bare fist before collapsing on his bed. When Scott came home he’d head to see the Professor and do his duty to his friend.
He’d stay the hell away from Storm and her daughter.
As he lay in his bed, he thought back to that last, stolen kiss in the kitchen. He could have gone on kissing her for hours…
But was it Storm he kissed or the haunting memory of Jean?
~**~
Logan speaks:
I went to the hospital that night and sat in the waiting room with Storm for hours while the surgeons worked on Chuck. We didn’t say anything. We just sat there, sipping bad coffee and worrying.
I couldn’t get the image of the hurt written in her eyes out of my mind. I thought about it constantly. It’s never easy, realizing that you’re the asshole of all assholes.
Storm stayed away from me. I watched her move back into the life of the X-Men and wished I could find a way to help her get past the whole lovin’ me thing. It wasn’t healthy, lovin’ someone that doesn’t do anything but cause problems.
Two weeks later, Chuck came home from the hospital. We all prepared for the long recovery he had waiting for him. Storm and I kept to ourselves, mostly. We managed to stay in the same room without glaring too much, which kept the noise down.
Marie didn’t mention it again. Maybe she knew I wasn’t ready to talk about it or maybe she just understood that it wasn’t something solved with words. I’d decided to let time deal with it, I guess.
Either way, I was determined to just move on, keep my mouth shut and my hands off. My dreams got worse. Day by day the wanting grew inside me until it was almost too much.
That was nothing compared to what Fate had in store for me. It’s like a tornado that changes course without warning. One day I was keeping everything inside, minding my own business and then Storm came pounding on my door in the middle of the night.
She was in tears, screamin’ for my help. I managed to get her to explain that Prita was sick. When I gathered her teeny body in my arms, I felt the first real fear in my entire life.
Everything was about to change. Again.
