Chapter Twenty: Christmas
Her book is lying on the bed
The two of hearts to mark her page
Now, who could ever walk away
At chapter twenty-one
So, she can't be really gone
~Tim McGraw
She was sleeping. Like a small child tucked into bed by a watchful mother, her breathing was slow, even. Her sleep was deep enough that she did not twitch when the chair squeaked loudly.
He shifted his numbing legs, eyes ever locked on that beautiful face. Few things in this world could capture a man’s attention as readily as her face. In him, she always had an enraptured audience.
Bruises had already formed beneath those cool blue eyes. Her cheeks were marred by stitches and reddened wounds. Her body had taken a beating at the hands of the robotic mutant-napper and yet, she had come out on top.
Logan guessed that not many forces in the universe could have withstood the combined might of Ororo and Mystique. Such a powerful duo was likely unmatched in the world. He would have paid good money to see the battle.
Of course, he probably would have had a massive coronary by the second blow. Sometimes Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Jean assured Logan that his beloved Storm would recover. She did not, however, factor in the fact that Logan was likely to kill the woman the moment she did. How could she have been so stupid? Going up against a Sentinel like that!
Stupid, yes, but he could not see any other option for his beautiful Windrider. There was no way in the nine circles of hell she could have sat by while Raven was detained “ or worse. It just wasn’t in her blood. Her training was too ingrained, too much a part of her.
She fought to protect mutants, even the evil ones if need be.
At least Raven had pulled her into the jet after the disastrous mêlée. Bleeding and broken, both women were able to hold out until help arrived. Logan knew the incident had taken several years off of everyone’s lives, but at least they were safe.
He heard the soft footfall and caught a whiff of roses before the door slid open with a muted hiss. Turning his head slightly, Logan greeted Jean with a grunt.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
He merely grunted again.
“I just want to check her vitals.”
Logan watched as the red haired mutant, clad in soft blue pajamas featuring a cheerful rubber ducky stretched across the breast, moved briskly toward the bio-bed. Her entire body betrayed tension, from the tightening of her brows to the set of her shoulders.
“She scared ya, didn’t she?”
Jean, for her part, did not even pretend she was surprised by Logan’s sudden comment.
“Of course she did.” The woman shook her head slight, taking up the clipboard with Ororo’s statistics scrawled on it from the foot of the bed. “I never wanted to see any of the X-Men that way.”
To ward off the telltale vice now forming in his chest, Logan looked back down at Storm. That same panic kept threatening to overwhelm him, even at the calmest of moments. His fear of being out in the field now warred viciously with his need to protect his lover.
Nothing seemed right with Ororo injured. She would be back on her feet in a day or so, sure, but that didn’t mean he would relax. This wasn’t a hair-raising ride through downtown New York or a face-on battle they had little time to prepare for…
While Logan sat at home, useless, Ororo fought for her life and that of her enemy. The sheer will in his beloved humbled him. He knew little of what it could be like to live every day with such conviction, such purpose. Ororo had her realized destiny coming out of her ears.
Glancing back at the mutant fussing over Storm’s IV, he wondered at how the slender telepath would recover from all of this. Though there were unresolved problems between the two women, Logan knew what bond lay beneath. Either woman would still take a bullet for the other without batting an eyelash.
That sort of loyalty could not be broken by several months of turmoil.
“Her vitals are up,” Jean reported. “Heart rate, neurological activity, lung function…she’s through the danger zone.”
Logan released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Enjoying the slight head-rush from lack of oxygen, he gave her a small smirk. Having the good news confirmed was one good thing about having an anal retentive doctor on call. Logan could get updates at two in the morning without a hint of complaint.
“Well, hi there.”
Startled from his reverie by Jean’s voice, Logan blinked to clear his worry-addled mind. Jean was leaning over the bed, smiling tenderly at the woman upon it. Ororo’s lovely blue eyes were open to her long-time friend. A smile played about bruised lips.
“Did I miss ER?” Ororo asked in a croaking voice.
Jean laughed, though the sound seemed slightly hysterical. “I recorded it for you.”
He would have been annoyed by such a causal dismissal of Ororo’s injuries had he not seen the look pass between both women. Green and blue swirled with enough emotion to drown an army. Pain, despair, and something like love shone through so brightly, Logan feared he would succumb to the touching moment himself.
“Logan?”
When she called his name, it was all he could do to raise a single hand. Strong, familiar fingers gripped his instantly and her smile lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Where did you go?” He echoed her words from only months before, when he awoke in this very bed, terrified of what had happened to him.
“Japan,” she replied softly. “With you.”
~**~
Christmas morning at Xavier’s School was the stuff of legend. Gifts by the score were piled beneath an enormous tree. Mistletoe decked every doorway where teens lurked hoping for a Yuletide smooch with his or her sweetheart.
Music from the grand piano in the sitting room wafted through the mansion, accompanied by squeals of delight. No matter the pain of the last months, the spirit of the holiday was here en force. Children, after all, are children.
With the aide of a cane, Ororo came through the hall, flanked by several students. They were all speaking at once, seemingly all trying to make their teacher understand how much they loved her…but presents were more important.
The instant the tree came into view, her aides promptly abandoned her. Storm laughed heartily as they all gathered around the thick red carpeting that housed both tree and gifts. It was, after all, common knowledge that not a single Christmas gift could be opened until all occupants of the house were present and accounted for.
Though her body hurt all over, Ororo found moving around much easier than just the day before. Her numerous bruises were healing nicely, broken bones knitting themselves together slowly but steadily.
Her only complaint was the scar that would remain on her cheek, it was just…gross.
Logan, to her inner delight, had been nothing but attentive and sweet for the last few days. She knew how badly he wanted to scream at her for being so stupid as to rush off into a battle the way she had, and yet he restrained himself. That man could keep her guessing, even after all these years.
As though her thought had summoned him “ again “ a sprig of fresh green mistletoe appeared over her eyes. With a start, Ororo glance behind her to find Logan beaming up at her. The tiny branch was clasped in his thick fingers, a definite “come hither” in his gaze.
“It’s tradition, ya know.”
She could only giggle girlishly while he leaned up for a swift and sweet kiss.
“Merry Christmas, ‘Ro.”
Heart fluttering in her chest, Ororo whispered her reply. “Back at ya, baby.”
“Awwww,” a child groaned loudly from behind them. “Miss Munroe! Can’t ya save the kissin’ til after we open the presents?”
“Leave them alone, Guy,” Scott defended almost instantly from the other side of the room.
“Presents are better than kisses though, Mr. Logan.” Guy tried again, with obvious hope in his eyes. “Honest!”
“Depends on where yer kissin’.”
Logan’s reply was rumbled into Ororo’s ear, giving her spine a delicious shiver.
“Ok, everyone here?” Jean’s voice came over the many excited children and a moment later, Ororo felt the feather-like brush of her psi-scanning the room.
“Looks like it…” Scott glanced to his wife eagerly.
For what seemed like an eternity in the eyes of children, Jean seemed to contemplate her answer. This trick was used every single year, but they fell for it every time. Ororo and Logan shot one another amused glances, chuckling softly as he helped her to a nearby chair.
Tension off of the children was thick enough to stand on, each of them knowing the enjoyment that came from ripping wrapping paper to shreds was in the hands of a single red head. She, at that moment, was their best friend and most hated enemy.
Funny that Jean loved every moment of that.
“Go for it!”
At her command, there was not even the most brief of pauses. Children screamed, dove, and soon presents and names were being tossed everywhere.
Of all the traditions that surrounded Christmas, this was Ororo’s favorite. Watching as each present was sorted and handed off gave her a warm, sated feeling. Each child would soon find their own spot and surround their legs with each heavenly treasure. After they were each counted, the wrapping paper would fly.
As she did every year, Ororo sat back to watch this time-honored ritual. Few pleasures in life were as simple, as innocent as this one. She would remember every smile, every thrilled peal of laughter.
Only one thing marred her perfect morning. When she turned her eyes to the place beside the merry fire, she found it empty. Usually, Charles sat there now, a blanket over his lap and a bemused smile on his handsome face. Like herself, he enjoyed the merriment of the children, the celebration of good fortune.
I miss you, she thought with a glance to the heavens. Merry Christmas, Charles.
Logan, whom dove into the present-pile some time ago with Scott, now emerged from the general skirmish. He was grinning from ear to ear and panting as though he’d just run five miles. Ororo shook her head at him, shifting in her chair as he came closer.
“Presents for you,” he announced, dropping an armload of gifts into her lap.
Ororo clapped happily, reaching for the first as Logan turned back toward the tree.
“Wait, where are you going?” She demanded with a mock frown.
Logan gave her his patented “Well, duh, woman” look over his shoulder. “Gotta get mine now.”
Laughing again, Ororo shrugged her shoulders and tore into the pile of gifts now falling out of her lap. The first happened to be from Scott and the thin box contained several compact discs she’d wanted.
After thanking her friend over the deafening din, she ripped open the present from Jean. Cooing at the new riding jacket “ complete with a hurricane embossed on the back “ Ororo pulled it on quickly. The women carried on a shouted conversation over the piece as Logan returned to Ororo’s chair.
“Jesus, it’s like World War 3 in there,” he grumbled. “Almost lost an arm when I got my last one outta there.”
“Are the children picking on you again?” Ororo teased. “Should I beat them up?”
“Quiet, you,” he replied.
Her ferocious love plopped onto the carpet in front of her and tore into his gifts with all the gusto of a five year old. He inspected a silver cigar case carefully before opening a leather jacket that oddly seemed to match Ororo’s.
“Aww,” Scott joked as he walked by. “His and Her jackets. That’s a Jean move if I ever saw one.”
Logan ducked in time to miss the poinsettia the red head telekinetically tossed in her husband’s direction “ though only because he had dissolved into laughter.
Gift opening took another hour or so to wind down. The children clustered together, showing off new toys and playing with their friends. No one had bothered to even dress, content to lounge about the fire-warm room in pajamas.
When Jean scurried into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, as always, Ororo decided it was time to give Logan her gift.
Reaching into her pocket, she removed a small gift box and tapped him on the shoulder. As he seemed deeply engrossed in his new GameBoy, it took her a minute to get his attention.
“What’s this?” He questioned, taking the box from her carefully.
Worried that he would not think her gift was appropriate, she swallowed her nerves and shrugged one shoulder. “Open it.”
He did so without another word. Inside the tiny box lay a thick silver chain. On the end of it, in lieu of a pendant, Ororo had placed a sliver of adamantium.
“Wha”?”
“It’s yours,” she explained, fidgeting with the sleeve of her new jacket nervously. “That day, when Magneto… you remember. Anyway, when I rushed to you, I slid. When I fell, I caught a piece of adamantium in my calf. I didn’t even realize it.”
He still looked utterly bewildered, so she rushed on.
“Jean took it out of my leg after they got you somewhat stable. I just stared at it for a while, then I held it. I thought…well, it was part of you. A part you lost.”
She finished in a whisper, unsure of herself now. “I just thought you might want part of it back. It’s a reminder that you didn’t lose everything.”
Though she wanted to continue, a very large man all but leaping into her lap and wrapping her into a searing kiss cut her short. Ororo grinned against Logan’s mouth, feeling oddly giddy at
his enthusiastic response.
“Kinda morbid,” he said when their lips parted. “But it fits.”
“Mmm,” she hummed in reply. “I thought so.”
He sat back on the floor and took the sturdy chain from its box. Ororo watched with feminine pleasure as he instantly clasped it onto his neck. The silvery metal flashed brilliantly against his bare chest, more so when he puffed his chest out to show it off.
As Ororo reached for her final gift, the one marked from Logan, she felt an odd chill pass over her. Looking about, searching for the cause of distress, she shook her head. Nothing was amiss, not on this perfect morning.
“Come on,” Logan encouraged her, obviously oblivious to her momentary unease. “Open it.”
Ororo shook off the strange feeling, though the hair on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end. It was such an odd sensation, as though cold suddenly seeped into her entire body. Like a pulse, it flooded into her veins and then back out.
Perhaps the morphine was wearing off.
With careful hands, her attention fully on Wolverine now, Ororo gently tore open the bright blue wrapping paper. It drove Logan wild to wait while she meticulously opened gifts from him, ensuring the paper was not torn too badly. She only preserved the paper because it tended to drive Logan up the wall. Theirs could be an interesting relationship.
When, finally, she found the sapphire blue jewelry box, she flipped it open without preamble. Jewelry demanded instant attention, after all, and it would be terribly rude to leave a pair of diamonds waiting.
Unfortunately, diamonds were not waiting at all. Inside the box happened to be two slender gold rings. Ororo felt her own eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, which made Logan reach for her hand.
“Don’t get excited.” He said with a smirk. “They’re both for you.”
Exhaling sharply, Storm winked at him. “Funny. What are they?”
Logan’s calloused fingers reached into the dainty box, lifting both rings carefully.
“One for each hand, fer balance.” He explained in a soft tone. “They’re made in Egypt an’ engraved with symbols.”
Curious now, Ororo took the rings, intently studying the thin bands. Engraved on the rings were several hieroglyphs.
“Wisdom,” she murmured. “Prosperity. Love. Honor.”
“Eternity,” he finished. His gentle hands slipped each ring onto a forefinger, bringing her hands up to his lips.
Ororo, moved by his thoughtfulness, leaned forward to embrace him. “They’re beautiful.”
“Aren’t they?” Betsy squeaked as she appeared, seemingly out of no where. “I about died when Logan decided on those!”
Not moving from Logan’s embrace, Ororo chuckled softly. “Of course you did. Now go away, Betsy.”
~**~
Well after midnight, Logan and Ororo sat on their porch swing, wrapped under a thick wool blanket. Snow fell in quiet beauty all around them, highlighted by what little moon shone through thick, wet clouds.
Serenity was the only word he could think of that fit the moment. Cool against his chest was the Christmas gift his lover had seen fit to give him. Just a symbol, really, off all lost and everything gained. Had he not lost the adamantium, would he and Ororo have taken those fateful steps into love?
If not, well, he felt the tradeoff was more than worth it. Snuggled together on the porch, still full from Jean’s fantastic Christmas dinner, everything seemed right in the world. Nothing could touch them here. For the first time since Magneto’s fateful encounter, Logan felt invincible.
True to form, Fate couldn’t let that one slide.
It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment he was listening to Ororo singing an old African lullaby and the next the boathouse exploded.
He came to across the lawn, gaping as fire wreathed the remains of the home he loved. Sirens were screaming all across the compound, a chorus of “Halt, mutant” broke the still night.
“’RO!”
Amid the blackened splinters of their home and the glinting white of snow, he could not find the telltale form of his beloved.
Wolverine leapt to his feet, claws outstretched as he raced through the wreckage. Mutants flooded the lawn, fighting back the five Sentinels that crashed the sweet afterglow of a holiday spent with family. He could hear Scott shouting orders, the cries of children too young to fight.
“ORORO!”
Logan’s feet bled as he stepped onto broken glass and torn wood, but he scarcely noticed. Their home was in pieces, scattered into the frigid night like leaves in an autumn wind. Nothing of it remained, save memories lovingly stored in his fractured memory.
When he came around the side of what had been his home, he caught a whiff of her scent. Blood tainted the sweet smell and his eyes were drawn to the flaming hammock he had spent so many lazy afternoons ensconced in.
There, on the freezing ground, lay Ororo. He ran to her, unable to even breathe. The world slid into slow motion and before he even reached her body, the terrible truth had already come over his broken heart.
“Ororo.” Logan scooped her lifeless body into his arms. “Baby, wake up.”
He shook her.
Blood filled his hands, oozing from wounds too numerous to name. He could hear no breath escape her lungs, no beating heart within her breast. A sob caught in Logan’s throat, one of pain so immense it defied description.
“’Ro, baby, don’t ya dare leave me.” He shook her again. “Come back, god damn it!”
He gathered her to his chest, hot tears slipping down his cheeks. The battle raged around him, but for Logan, time had stopped.
The mutant called Wolverine fell to his knees on the cold, wet earth. He clutched the body of his best friend and lover while a scream of unbearable loss tore from his throat. Nothing else in this world mattered now.
She was gone.
