Chapter Five: History
Cause inside you’re ugly
Ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you
~Staind
June 1993
“Erik!”
Ororo raced down the stairs, stumbling twice as she tried to overtake the aging mutant heading for the front door. Panic nearly a living thing inside her chest, she tried to sidestep Cyclops. Her friend grabbed her arms, trying to stop her.
“Come on, Oreo, don’t let him do this to you,” he pled in a whisper. “He wants to go.”
“No!”
When she continued to struggle, wanting to reach Erik before he was gone forever, Scott released her with a heart heavy sigh. Ororo was instantly on the move again, the click of her heeled boots seeming impossibly loud on the hard wood of the corridor floors.
Her life in Xavier’s mansion was defined by its people. When Charles first brought her into the fold from the wilds of Africa, she’d resisted his insistence that she was not a goddess, but a mutant. Months of attempted escapes and all out brawling with the other students had nearly gotten her expelled. At first, she hadn’t cared, but during her second runaway attempt, she found this Western world so alien that it frightened her.
It was at a cold bus stop that Charles Xavier’s friend, Erik Lensherr, found her. He took her hand with an understanding smile, then raised them both into the clouds with his magnetic field.
“Free yourself,” he demanded of her. “Here, your power is limitless. Revel in that, my weather goddess!”
And so she had. High above the city with this old mutant as her companion, she rained the elemental destruction too far too hurt anyone below. Erik never once seemed to fear her, even when he lowered his magnetic field to ride on her winds alone.
Charles had spent so much time telling her the importance of restraint, that he had not seen it was slowly killing her. Erik, on the other hand, knew this intimately. It was he who showed her how easily she could revel in her element without the side effect of hurting an innocent person. He’d shown her how to be Ororo Munroe without losing her beloved Windrider. It was in that moment that the two melded as one, creating the mutant known as Storm.
Erik took her back to the mansion, back to the life she would lead. He, along with Charles, taught her how to balance the fury of her emotional link to mutation perfectly with the desires of a woman. Together, her two mentors birthed a mutant dedicated to the cause without sacrificing the girl.
Now, one of them was leaving her.
“Erik! Wait! Please!”
She caught him in the doorway. His Fedora was cocked ever so slightly on his graying head, his coat tossed over his arm and a suitcase clutched in one hand. He made as though to step away from her, but Ororo’s hand lashed out to grasp his.
“Wait.”
“I can’t, my child,” Erik’s voice was filled with sadness. “But, you could come with me.”
“Erik…” her heart hurt to refuse him, but she knew her place was with Xavier, fighting for his version of the dream. “You know I cannot.”
His handsome, lined face turned to her and she could see the pain reflected in those gray-blue eyes. Her hand squeezed his, hoping to give him some measure of comfort. She’d known that the two men she counted as her fathers had been fighting for some time. Recently, with several attacks on mutants in California, those arguments only got worse.
The children speculated as to why, but Ororo knew. Erik, a survivor of a terrible chapter in the history of humanity, wanted to strike back at all non-mutants, to take peace at the tip of a proverbial sword. Charles, ever the pacifist, wanted to forge peace through diplomacy and mercy.
She had always feared this day would come, when one of her beloved mentors would abandon her.
“Baba,” she pled again. “Please.”
Her face was not wet with tears, but a gentle rainfall suddenly overtook the clear, bright day, blocking out the warmth of the sun. Erik put his suitcase down, cupping her cheek in that wonderfully paternal manner she had missed all her life.
“Oh, my dear,” Erik stroked his thumb over her cheek. “No tears come from your eyes, but the heavens themselves weep for you. This is why I cannot remain. Charles places so much restraint on you, on all of you, that you cannot enjoy the gifts you have been given.”
“He only wants peace,” Ororo explained. “Without violence.”
“When in the history of humanity has there been peace without violence?” he countered gently. “We are the future, my Windrider, humans are the past.”
“I cannot believe that, baba,” she said, shaking her head. “This world is big enough for all of us.”
Erik disentangled her hand from his, taking her other cheek so he cradled her face in his strong hands. “Take good care of yourself, Ororo, remember to embrace your gifts, find release wherever you can. You will be needed in the upcoming war.”
“Erik…please, do not do this. Stay. Fight with us.”
“I’m sorry, my dear,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But I fear the next time we meet, it shall be as enemies.”
“Baba, no.”
“Goodbye, my Windrider, may your gods and mine protect and guide you.”
“Erik!”
He released her, easily shaking off her searching hands as he collected his Fedora and suitcase. Ororo grasped madly for his hand, succeeding in clutching his fingers one, final time.
Erik’s face was wet with his tears and her sorrowful raindrops as he squeezed her hand. In his eyes, she could see his goodbye, feel the pain it caused him into the depths of her heart. When their hands parted, it was in slow motion, as though they both wanted to hold on as long as possible.
She crumbled to her knees when he turned his back on her, walking briskly through the rain-soaked drive to the cab waiting for him. Not once did he glance at her over his shoulder, even as her mourning reflected in the heavens above.
Her knees met the floor, her arms wrapping around herself as she stubbornly held back tears of her own. They would meet again, of this she was certain, but he was likely correct that this meeting would be as enemies.
The same cause fought for different reasons. Ororo shook her head as the cab pulled away from the drive, taking her beloved surrogate father away. Even when Jean appeared, wrapping her comforting arms around her, the wound was too deep to be healed. She feared there would never be a time when she stopped missing her mentor, her friend.
Charles appeared in the foyer a moment later, the feeling of his presence bringing Ororo’s eyes up from the drive as she turned to face him. Still clinging to her darling Jean, she met her other friend’s blue gaze. Any anger with him dissipated when she saw the tears standing in his eyes.
As one, Ororo and Jean stood, crossing to their mentor and wrapping him in two sets of feminine arms. Each of his hands found one of their shoulders and he leaned into the embrace, as though taking strength and comfort from his protégés.
Cyclops came a moment later, followed by Henry. Masculine arms covered and embraced the feminine, creating a warm circle that felt like family. As a group, the very first among to be labeled the X-Men, they reaffirmed their vow to peace and to each other. Come what may, they were a family and would ever remain so.
~**~
Present
Storm fought Logan the entire way back to the boathouse. He had to keep both arms around her, nearly dragging her taller form across the spacious lawns that surrounded the lake.
All she knew was rage, the pain Magneto inflicted on her cutting more deeply than anyone would ever understand. She had kept it all locked away, preferring to no longer think of the man as “Erik”, her baba. If she maintained that he was simply another renegade mutant, she might control the pain beating it’s way up from the depths of her soul.
Panting, her bloodied hands clenching and unclenching, Ororo sought for an outlet for her rage. She wanted to be let loose again. He had not yet paid for his actions. Something violent had woken from an ancient slumber within her the moment she spotted Magneto in the mansion.
“Jean! Hurry up!” Logan called over his shoulder.
Further enraged that her beloved friend dared call for another’s aid, Ororo renewed her fight against him. She kicked out both legs, managing to catch Logan’s shin and unprotected knee.
“Goddamnit!” he snarled, releasing her roughly.
Ororo fell several feet ahead of him, splashing in the rain-muddied ground. She forced herself to push up with her arms. Spitting mud onto the grass, she glared hatefully at her best friend.
“Ok, girl,” Wolverine growled. “Ya wanna fight? Lets go.”
“Do not tempt me, Wolverine!” Ororo thundered back, accompanied by a flash of lightning. “Because without the aid of your adamantium skeleton, I think I can take you.”
“Oh yeah?” he returned, motioning for Jean to stand back. “Bring it on. You’re askin’ for a decent whoopin’.”
“Am I?” Ororo flipped onto her back, thrusting her legs forward so she popped up from the ground. “You should not have interfered!”
“Yeah? Wanna end up dead, ya fuckin’ idiot?”
The grating sound of his claws released from the back of his hands echoed even above the scream of her storm. Momentarily startled that he was threatening her so, Ororo took a step back. Steeling her spine, she crouched low, in a starting position.
Logan advanced on her immediately, charging like an enraged bull. Jean was screaming for Cyclops and Psylocke. Storm easily dodged out of the range of Wolverine’s claws, delivering a stunning blow to the back of his neck with her elbow. Darting out of the way as he spun to attack, she flipped into a back flip.
“That’s it, girl,” he taunted her. “Get angry. Hit me. Come on.”
Storm saw red. She met him halfway, the two of them squaring off. She ducked and dodged fatal blows, coming up with stunning blows to his face and torso. Without his metal skeleton, her hands did not immediately break, but he was still very solid and her already wounded hands screamed in protest.
Blood pumped from the cuts on her fingers anew, whatever healing her body had already started completely undone with a few blows. Logan hit her on the nape of her neck with the back of his hand.
She went down instantly, rolling to avoid another of his clawed attacks. Her head swam dangerously, the upset in her equilibrium making her stomach roll with nausea. Not waiting for him to advance again, she brought her legs up sharply, wrapping them around his neck.
A sharp pull brought Logan onto his back and she flipped to straddle him. Her fists raised, but Logan caught her wrists in his hands.
“Who are ya really angry at? Huh?” he shouted. “Me? Fer nearly gettin’ killed?”
“No!” she shouted, hitting him in the face. “I want to kill him!”
“No ya don’t,” he countered her easily. “Sure, I bet ya do now, but what about when this mad you’ve got on fades?”
“Release me!”
“Sure.”
Logan released her arms, but his solid fist met her stomach immediately. The wind completely knocked from her lungs, she gripped her belly and fell over, gasping for breath. Betrayed by his easy end to their battle, she glared at him again, wanting to tear the rest of his bones out.
“God, ‘Ro,” he apologized, moving to pull her back into his arms as the rain fell more heavily around them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Still gasping, she tried to move from Logan’s strong hold as Jean advanced on them. Logan held her arm out flat, his thick legs keeping her from escape by wrapping about her waist. A pinprick and sharp burn told her she’d been sedated.
Seconds later, the world swam before her eyes and Ororo slumped in Logan’s arms as darkness overtook her.
~**~
When she woke, night had fallen around her. Sitting up in her bed, she glanced down at her hands. One was bandaged and the lack of pain said Jean had doped her up rather well. Cocking her head to the side, she detected the sounds of several voices chatting outside.
Slipping out of bed, she noted that someone “ likely Logan and Jean “ had cleaned her up and put pajamas on her. She crept toward the south facing window and quickly peeked through the clean glass. Ducking back in, she seethed.
Angel, Psylocke, Cyclops, Jean, Beast, Rogue, and Wolverine were all chatting outside, most of them with worried expressions on their faces. Without a doubt, they were talking about her. She wondered, for a moment, if she had indeed killed Magneto.
Twin sides of her warred between satisfaction and horror at the thought.
She needed to get out. So much of her rage and pain had just not yet found a decent outlet. Release clawed at her, begging to be set free. Sighing, Ororo turned her hand over and picked at the tape in her palm with a fingernail.
Unraveling the bandages took only a moment, revealing at least a dozen stitches keeping the back of her right hand and fingers from splitting back open. Gingerly touching the neat thread “ this was the work of Henry “ she allowed a small smile to cover her lips.
Two long cuts sliced diagonally across her ring, middle, and fore fingers. A third traversed the length of the back of her hand. It looked as though Logan had cut her, but she knew they had all been done by Magneto’s helmet.
After experimentally stretching her fingers and finding little pain, she marched over to the closet, shifting through hangers holding both hers and Wolverine’s clothing, she located a suitably daring outfit and pulled it on. Her hair was clean, most of the braids still completely in tact.
Once a light dusting of makeup was applied, she grabbed her car keys and wallet. Logan was usually very meticulous about stealing her keys when she was riled up. Noting that her conjured storm was beginning to rebuild, she stopped on the staircase and raised both hands quickly.
A brief call to the elements for order was answered instantly, leaving the night sky clear.
She contemplated slipping out of the back door, but decided she wanted them all to see her leaving. Logan knew she did not like having all of the X-Men in or around her home without her knowledge. They must have expected Jean’s drugs to keep her under for a bit longer.
Straightening her spine and slipping her key ring onto her uninjured forefinger, she slammed the screen door open and stepped into the chilly night.
Seven pairs of startled eyes swung to the woman standing in the doorway. Glaring at them all, Ororo remained where she was, wondering if they would try to detain her when she decided it was time to leave.
“Is he dead?” she asked bluntly, not really intending to.
“Not entirely,” Henry said in his diplomatic voice. “I believe he will recover.”
“Pity,” she said with no remorse. “If you will excuse me.”
Ororo jogged quickly from the door, across the porch, and down the wood steps until her feet met the grass. Most of the X-Men let her pass unhindered, but true to form, Logan grabbed her arm as she moved to pass him.
“Where ya goin’?”
“Out,” Storm spat. “Driving.”
The widening of Logan’s eyes told her he understood her meaning completely.
“Now?”
“Yes, now,” she said as though annoyed with him. “Are you coming or staying to whisper about my lack of control behind my back?”
The others caught her quick glance with shame-pink faces. She sniffed at them proudly, not caring if they decided she was losing her grip or completely out of control. Logan, however, grabbed his coat from the porch and returned to her side a moment later.
“We’ll be back,” he tossed to the other X-Men even as Storm strode away from them.
Together, they hopped into the Jeep Logan kept in the boathouse’s garage, with Storm behind the wheel. He pulled his seatbelt on as she roared the engine to life.
“Ya sure there’s even a track up tonight?”
“Yes,” she replied easily. “Lazy E told me they were having a competition this weekend.”
“Great,” he grunted as the Jeep shot out of the driveway and toward the smaller east gate.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Storm wondered if Logan actually felt bad about subduing her with Jean’s aid or if he felt it was the right thing to do. He was the one that pulled those six-inch bone claws on her, after all.
It was no secret those on the original team that she’d once be very close to their former friend, Magneto. Cyclops had even questioned her a good deal after the incident at Liberty Island, wondering how she was holding up. They’d known he was behind it, but facing him again as an enemy was exceedingly difficult for Storm.
As she pointed the Jeep toward Manhattan, she looked at the stitches in her hand, which rested on the steering wheel. It had been such a shock, to come out of the kitchen with Scott, both of them munching on pilfered cookies Rogue was baking. She was laughing at her friend for burning his tongue, earning her a playful swat on the shoulder.
And then she’d seen him. He stood in the foyer of the mansion, dressed in his signature magenta. Psylocke was trying to get him to leave, Angel standing resolutely beside her. She never heard what the man said, but rage filled her veins. What right did he have to invade their home this way, especially after what he had done?
Her cookie was forgotten, Scott’s hissed warning fell on deaf ears. She’d often heard Logan describe his uncontrollable rages as his mind blanking out and red covering his vision. If asked to explain how she went from calm and collected one moment to pummeling her former friend with bare hands, that was as close a description as she could give.
In those moments, an animalistic simplicity controlled her. That being caused pain. She would kill him. It was bare handed and personal. This time, her hands had done something about that purple-bellied bastard. She’d felt him wither beneath her, his voice begging her to stop.
One sharp blow to his head had insured he would not use his powers. She’d hoped he would fight back, to make it more satisfying. Instead, Ororo was given the chance to simply exercise the right of a best friend to exact vengeance on behalf of their loved one.
All she knew in those moments was pain. All she saw was Logan’s shredded body. All she heard was his agonized scream. All she could think was how this man had caused her so much pain.
She had loved Erik once, just as much as she loved Charles. Now, all that love, all that trust had been betrayed and she wanted only to see him dead.
“Hurts, don’t it?”
Her companion’s gravelly voice brought her from her musings. Without looking at him, she flipped on the turn signal and exited the highway.
“What?”
Logan grunted. She could feel that penetrating gaze on her, the type that sent her senses into overdrive.
“Hatin’ someone so much it makes ya sick,” he continued. “Wantin’ ta hurt ‘em so bad the fury makes yer stomach clench up. When it makes things like love an’ trust an’ happiness seem fuckin’ fake…that’s real hate, darlin’.”
Ororo swallowed hard, glancing at him quickly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Cause I saw yer face when ya hit Magneto,” he explained softly. “A lotta the X-Men think it was cause ya knew him an’ cause he hurt me. That you were hurtin’ inside. But that ain’t it.”
“Enlighten me, Wolverine,” she snapped nastily, annoyed that he knew her so well.
“Magneto’s the first person ya’ve ever hated. Really and truly hated,” said the older mutant quietly. “An’ that’s tearin’ ya up. Ya didn’t think so much hate was possible til ya felt it.”
For a moment, she was quiet, simply watching the road stretched out before them. He did have a point. Whenever he told her he hated someone “ Sabertooth and Stryker for example “ she always assumed he was simply hurt. She thought that the pain was easily covered up by hatred.
Now, however, she knew how wrong that was.
“I never expected ya to hate someone like that,” he continued after a moment. “I didn’t want ya havin’ this ugly thing inside ya.”
“It is too late, Logan,” said Ororo. “I have it inside me now and it will not go away on it’s own.”
“Nope,” he agreed.
“Then, what do I do with it?”
He shrugged a shoulder as they pulled into Lazy E’s garage. After unbuckling his seat belt, he turned to her.
“Use it, live with it, cause I ain’t found a way ta get rid of it.” His voice held that rough edge that told her he was speaking from the heart.
“Logan.” It hurt her, thinking she had somehow let him down. He depended on her to be his rock in the worst of his rages. His port in the storm. Now, however, she leaned on him. It did not seem fair to so suddenly change the dynamic between them.
“Listen, darlin’,” he cut in. “Ya mean more ta me than anyone else on this planet, ya know that. Do ya have any idea what it did ta me, seein’ ya beatin’ the livin’ hell outta Magneto?”
She was quiet, even as Lazy E opened the battered door that led from his garage to his home. He spotted them immediately, but obviously realized they were in deep discussion, for his pace slowed considerably as he neared.
“No.”
“I was terrified,” Logan admitted. “He coulda lifted one hand an torn all the iron outta yer blood, killin’ ya before I ever had the chance ta help ya. Sure, ya had him at yer mercy, but I’ll never get over that fear.”
“Logan…”
“Just promise me ya won’t do anythin’ that stupid again,” he commanded, dark eyes glinting when she met his gaze. “Ya already have somethin’ ugly in ya, don’t make yerself a murderer too.”
After a moment of silence stretched between them, she nodded slowly. “You have my word.”
“Good,” he grunted, waving at Lazy E to come over. “Still feel like drivin’?”
“Yes,” she smiled at the tall, handsome black man coming toward the Jeep. “I need something tangible. A storm will not do it this time.”
“Ok,” her friend nodded as E leaned into the Jeep.
“I heard there was a competition tonight,” Ororo waggled her eyebrows at her old friend, letting the adrenaline seep into her blood.
“Yeah, sure is, baby doll,” E replied quickly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “3G buy in, four races, winner takes all.”
“Got the Mazda ready?” Logan asked as he hopped out of the Jeep.
“Polished up for our girl here,” E shouted to his mechanics, whom had gathered in the garage behind him. “Come on, boys, lets show those Japanese pros how our girl does it!”
There were several appreciative whoops of joy, many of the boys whistling as one turned up the stereo, which blasted some new rap song she was vaguely familiar with. The boys greeted Logan warmly, handing him a thin, sweet smelling cigar as he said hello to each in turn.
Storm slipped out of the Jeep, taking a deep breath. It had been months since she and Logan left the mansion to vanish into the world of underground racing. He loved to watch the precision driving, cheering her on from the sidelines as he had during their trip to Japan.
Ororo was the driver, addicted to the danger, the speed. It was an escape, losing herself a little more as the speedometer climbed higher and higher. Unlike the fury of her storms, this was human. She was not a mutant on that track, but a woman. She could forget about the war, her gifts, and the countless lives that counted on her. It was bliss.
Not a soul at the mansion knew where Wolverine and Storm disappeared to when life got a little rough. It was their secret, something they could share with no one else. Ororo was quite sure that had the others known about their little trips, it would no doubt make them all more wary. Storm was not known for her wild side; the side reserved for her best friend alone. It was best for all involved if the mansion were kept out of the loop
Logan came up behind her as she moved to the tan tarp covering her “baby”. Beneath it she knew was the Mazda 240SX she and Logan had rebuilt upon returning from Japan. Painted white with black trim, it was a beast on the track. Rear-wheel capabilities were almost unlimited, giving her the power she craved. She loved this car.
Her best friend appeared behind hr and suddenly reached around her body, pulling the cover off with her. The bittersweet scent of his cigar snaked around her as he growled into her ear.
“Lets go for a ride.”
