Chapter Nine: Erik
I’ve made a commitment
I’m willing to bleed for you
I needed fulfillment
I found what I need in you
~Staind
Ororo undressed quietly, not bothering to turn the lights on. She could see in the ripe moonlight pouring in through her wide windows. Everything was bathed in silver, like a dream you never wanted to wake from. She slipped into an oversized t-shirt and her “Very Sexy” boxers to sleep in.
Her hair was still braided, so she checked it in the mirror. Satisfied, she brushed her teeth, leaving the brush in the holder beside Logan’s when she was finished. All in all, she felt a lot better today. Her mental turmoil was quiet, allowing her time to simply sit with her best friend on the rooftop, sharing secrets and a six-pack.
Bracing her hands on the sink, she dropped her head forward. Her back arched in a stretch while her mind replayed the last half hour over. The sunset was beautiful, but not something romantic when shared between best friends. It was just another evening for them, as hundreds of others before it.
She’d been reminded of the incident with Scott and so she’d told her friend about it. Whenever Scott got overly leader-ish, she would recall that evening in their teenage years and mock him silently. Now, Logan could mock him with her.
The news that Logan had bedded Jean was not so surprising. She knew both of them and Jean was not the sort of woman that could resist so tempting an offer as their resident Wolverine. A part of her was jealous that Jean knew things about Logan that Storm would never know. Noises he made, facial expressions…she shared everything with Jean.
Jealousy made her grip the sink a little harder, making it groan under the pressure from her dark hands. Yes, jealousy. She was not thinking about her realization just before she offered to fly Logan down from the rooftop. There was no reason to think that he met all of her criteria. None at all.
She certainly was not thinking that she scored high on his list as well. No. That would only lead to badness. Logan was her best friend. Her pal, chum, buddy, companion.
Thinking otherwise would drive her already hurting mind “ not to mention heart “ to a place it was not prepared for. Ororo looked up into the mirror and winced. Even she could see that her emotional issues were beginning to show on her face. See? Logan would never even notice. Scott doesn’t. No one see me when Jean is near.
Goddess, I am turning into a high school girl, she mentally chided.
Cocking her head, she listened for sounds that her housemate was coming upstairs to get into bed. Tinkling of glass and running water said he was cleaning up in the kitchen, something she had left for later when they made their way to the rooftop. She had a few minutes before he came up to lie with her.
Unbidden, her mind ran over the last few days, concentrating on the Logan parts of it. She did that more often that she probably should. Something about that man always lingered. It was easy to concentrate on him, especially when he was being caring, concerned, and adoring. How many people knew how affectionate Logan could be?
She did. His best friend. She knew that he loved to be touched by soft, innocent caresses. They often held hand without thinking about it. In a movie theater, while walking in the woods surrounding the mansion grounds, watching a boxing match on HBO. It was as though he needed an anchor of some kind, for someone to touch him without pain or because they wanted something from him.
Contact. That was the word. Ororo understood a need for contact. That was the explanation for her little jaunt with Andy, wasn’t it? She needed contact, something to forget all of the bad. Concentrating on Andy was good. Very good.
Except that her traitorous mind whispered that a thousand orgasms with Andy could not accomplish what Logan would. Holding her best friend’s hand, letting him run a lazy thumb over her knuckles…there was nothing like it in the world.
“Damn it,” she whispered. Pushing away from the sink, she made her way into the bedroom.
After picking up the clothing on the floor, she heard the water downstairs click off. Logan would be coming up in seconds. Ororo quickly turned the bed down, trying to get a hold of her mind and hormones. She would never be able to tell him how his “list” had affected her. She could not reveal that for one instant, one impossible moment, she had wished he would compare her to that list. To find all others wanting and her the answer.
Shaking her head, Ororo smoothed her hands over the clean sheets, wondering how she would lie beside him tonight as though nothing had changed.
Had it? She told herself nothing was different. He was still her best friend. She was still just ‘Ro. Nothing was different.
Ororo actually believed that…for the next thirty seconds. Logan appeared in the loft, shrugging out of his t-shirt and kicking his boots off. Ororo had to forcefully clamp her mouth closed so her jaw would not hit the floor as some cartoon dog would. He moved past her, saying something about washing the dishes. It made no sense to her lust-addled brain, but she nodded anyway.
He stretched, revealing those thick ropes of muscle beneath taut, tanned flesh as he stepped into the bathroom. For the first time in their long friendship, Ororo’s mind utterly betrayed her. Flashes of what he would feel like “ physically and emotionally “ as a lover slipped into a movie-like show behind her eyes.
Aghast at further proof that she was losing her mind, as most of the mansion now thought, Ororo removed her earrings and slipped them into the ornate box Logan had carved for her two years ago. It was her birthday gift. Something made from his hands.
She touched the carving on the top as he brushed his teeth. Her name in a rolling, elegant scripted had been burned into the top, giving the box a beautifully colored opening. At the time, she recalled hugging him tightly and reverently holding the box while gift certificates and opera tickets were accepted with much less enthusiasm.
“Damn, my back’s killin’ me.”
Startled when he addressed her, she gave the box one last, loving glance. Turning to her best friend, she arched one white brow.
“Logan, are you fishing for something?”
He had the grace to look somewhat sheepish as he plopped his heavy frame onto the bed. She could not help but tilt her head, watching that gorgeous form sprawl out on her sheets. There was only so much any woman could take. Logan wearing only loose pajama bottoms would wear down any woman’s resolve.
Gazing at him was not a violation of the best friends rule. Right?
“I mighta been hopin’ for a world-renowned ‘Ro massage,” he glanced at her over his shoulder with a grin.
“You, my friend, are spoiled,” Ororo chuckled, moving across the room to him. She took a bottle of heated massage oil from her bedside table.
They kept it around for use after missions. One of them tended to pull something, which was easily worked free with a back massage while chatting quietly. Until now, she had never even thought of the sexual implication.
Apparently, having sex played havoc on her libido.
“If I’m spoilt, ya made me that way, girl.” Logan spoke as he folded his hands under his head on the pillow, turning so he could watch her.
As she had countless other times, she scrambled onto the bed. Ororo straddled Logan’s hips, resting on the back of his thick thighs. She had to wriggle a little, her legs aching in several positions as she shifted on his much-wider form. Finally, she was comfortable and Logan was not complaining about her bony ass or sharp heels digging into various spots on his back.
She smoothed a generous helping of oil on her hands, then let a bit more drip over his warm flesh. She fought mental visions of the room being filled by soft candlelight. Thinking of a lack of clothing was just as unhelpful.
Reigning in her hormones, Ororo leaned forward, gripping Logan’s shoulders and sliding her hands down. She kneaded him firmly, eliciting a groan when she hit several sensitive places. He felt different under her hands, softer, more malleable. She’d never expected that his metallic skeleton had kept the rest of his body tougher. Actually, he felt so damned human at the moment, that her protective side reared up. He was nearly vulnerable.
Slick fingers worked out several knots in Logan’s back, her shirt bearing oil marks from stretching over his form to work on his shoulders and neck. He groaned in pleasure that sent shockwaves through her feminine side. Really, she could have done without those.
“Am I hurting you?” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper, but he did not seem to notice. Thank the Goddess.
“No,” he grunted a sleepy reply. “Feels good.”
She sat up again, bringing her oiled hands to Logan’s waist and working inward toward his spine. He nearly purred under her touch, which was nothing new. Why had she not noticed it before? Platonic as their relationship was “ and would likely ever remain “ those little growls and purrs would weaken any woman’s resolve.
The treacherous part of her mind snidely reminded her that Jean had likely heard those little, private noises at some point. That annoyed the hell out of Ororo. She fought to leave that thought alone, succeeding when Logan asked her to move just a little to the left.
Silvery light shifted in the darkness as the hour wore on and the moon rose higher in the blue-black sky. When Logan was no more than putty in her hands, his breathing deep and regular, she finally stopped tired hands. As she always did, she extended her long frame, fitting her body tightly against his.
A nearly perfect fit, despite the difference in their heights.
Setting her chin on his shoulder, oil absorbed by his flesh, she hugged her friend tightly. He smiled, kissing her cheek sleepily.
“Yer an angel.”
“I know,” she quipped.
He shifted, letting her tumble into the bed beside him now. She turned onto her side, letting him tuck the blankets around them. Logan promised a massage for her the following evening. Nodding her agreement, she waited until he clutched her from behind, as always.
They tumbled into sleep with his arm slung over her waist, bodies molded together and Ororo smiling slightly. It really was lovely to have such a friend.
Just a friend. She thought as sleep claimed her.
~**~
Ororo zipped up her uniform, ignoring Jean’s imploring glances. The two women and Cyclops were due to leave the mansion in just moments. They were taking Eri-Magneto to Muir Island. Ororo had insisted on going along. Charles agreed, but only because Magneto seemed to recognize her.
She had no idea what she would say to him. In the few days since she had seen him, heard him speak his nickname from so long ago, she had avoided the elder mutant. She did not want to have her mind take another leave of absence on her.
Logan touched her arm, drawing her attention as Jean scuttled across the room to Cyclops. Her friend wanted to see them off, or so he said. She knew him. He wanted to look this man in the eye, at last.
“Ya sure ya should do this?” Logan asked quietly.
“Yes,” she nodded. “I can…I need to tell him a few things. Logan, he has to understand.”
He nodded once, his dark eyes piercing hers. “Ya still love him, after all this.”
Swallowing hard, Ororo nodded. “Erik or Magneto, I cannot simply stop.”
“That’s some kinda love.” Her friend said, holding her gloves out so she could slip them on.
“I cannot help it,” she whispered. He touched her face once her gloves were secure, meeting her eyes earnestly.
“I know,” he grunted. “It’s ok. Cause I know ya love me like that. The “No Matter What” kind. It’s all right, really.”
She smiled sadly, kissing his whiskered cheek. “Exactly. The No Matter What kind.”
Logan gave her another smile, then squeezed her hand. “Be careful, all right? I’ll make dinner.”
“Chili?” She made a face for his benefit.
He swatted her arm gently. “Naw. I was thinkin’ chicken on the grill.”
Ororo smacked her lips eagerly. “Stop it, you’ll make me swoon.”
“Potato salad? Grilled peppers?”
This time, Ororo glared at him as her stomach rumbled. “That is not fair.”
“Storm? We have to go.”
Nodding her acknowledgement at Cyclops’ words, Storm met Logan’s eyes again. He seemed to understand her hesitation and smiled, squeezing her leather-covered fingers again.
They turned toward the other X-Men, Storm taking several deep breaths. Cyclops and Jean both looked immune to whatever was about to happen to Storm and Wolverine. She briefly hated them for their cold indifference. A wayward thought that she could freeze ice on both of their hearts made Jean look at her sharply.
“Stay out and perhaps you will not hear things that so offend,” Storm snapped.
Jean glared. “You are certainly in a mood.”
“Bite me.”
Both Jean and Cyclops stared at her in horror, even as Logan chuckled and snorted from behind her. Triumphant, she looked toward the hall, where the sound of footsteps and a wheelchair wafted toward them. Logan slapped Storm’s hand in congratulations behind her, careful Cyclops and Jean did not see them.
All merriment left Storm’s heart when Erik came around the corner. His face was healing, though still bruised in many places. His shining blue eyes lit up when he saw her and he immediately made his way across the room.
“Windrider! Oh, my dear, I was beginning to think I would never see you again.”
Her heart ached at his kind words, her hands suddenly captured in his. She glanced to Logan, who had stepped back and was watching cautiously.
“They are taking me away,” Erik said worriedly. “I do not know where, but…are you coming with me?”
“Erik,” Ororo began gently. “You do not remember how you know me, do you?”
A look of bewilderment crossed his face and he gently shook his head.
“No,” he admitted. “But I know that I love you, very much. Your face is the only familiar thing about this world. Though I wonder why you look upon me with such sadness and confusion.”
Storm took a deep breath, her mind threatening her conscious thought with turmoil again. She took Erik’s hands and moved him to sit on one of the benches. His eyes remained on her face, his fingers moving over hers in remembrance.
“Erik, you did love me,” she started haltingly. “ We were as close as father and daughter.”
“Yes, I know,” he agreed, smiling. “I do not know how, but I know.”
“But,” she stopped him. “You and I parted ways some time ago. We wanted different things. We became enemies.”
Erik startled visibly, jerking his hands away from her. “No!”
She glanced at Logan, noting the confusion on his face as he stepped between Erik and the others. Ororo watched him mutter to the others, hopefully telling them to not interfere.
“Look at me, Erik,” Storm demanded of the clearly baffled man.
When his eyes met hers again, she nodded slowly. “You know I would never lie to you. I have never, not once in the time you have known me, lied to you.”
“But…why?” he demanded in a broken tone, tears streaking his lined and bruised face. “Why would you become my enemy?”
Storm stood, taking his biceps in her hands. He seemed so weak and frail, so bewildered by the world around him. She had done this to him, destroyed the strength in a man she regarded as her father. It was true that in his current state he could not harm others, but the damage was too much. She wished again, for different reasons, that she had killed him.
This was a fate worse than death.
“Baba, you know you are a mutant, as we all are. You wanted to start a war, to prove that mutants are superior. I wanted peace, without violence. We parted ways.”
“NO!” he shouted, shaking his head again. “I would not betray you! I have loved you longer than I loved anything else!”
“Yes,” she agreed softly, blinking tears from her eyes. ‘But your convictions overrode that love. We were fighting for the same cause, but from different viewpoints.”
He was shaking from head to toe, his hands coming up to grip her arms for support. Unable to refuse him, Storm moved them both until they could sit on a bench.
“Why?” he asked quietly. “Who did this to me?”
Storm glanced at Logan. His eyes were fighting; she could see anger warring with uncommon compassion. He nodded once, encouraging her as he always did.
“I did,” she spoke to Erik softly.
His head snapped up and betrayal shone through his blue eyes.
“What?”
Ororo took a deep, calming breath and launched into the tale. She indicated to Logan, telling her beloved and broken baba about the adamantium, her dear friend’s near death experience and the vengeance she evoked in his name. Erik watched her face, taking in every word with a quiet despair.
Her hearted ached within her chest. The confessional was harder than she had expected. There was nothing in the world she would ever find more difficult. It was as though her Erik had returned and all she had to show him was horror and pain. Logan did not move from his place across the room, nor did he allow anyone else to interfere.
When, at long last, she was finished, Erik inhaled deeply. “I do not want to hear more.”
Concerned, Ororo reached for his hand. He shied away, standing and moving toward Logan. Storm was on her feet in an instant, moving to protect her beloved companion. Erik met Logan’s eyes as she sidled up to stand beside him.
“I am sorry for causing you pain. I will never be able to make amends.”
With that he looked to Charles. “I will go wherever you decree, Charles. I have caused enough problems for your family.”
He turned then to Ororo. His aged hands touched her face and he kissed her forehead in a way that he had not in several years. Tears stung at her eyes and distantly above, thunder rumbled forlornly.
“The heavens weep for you, though your eyes remain dry,” he whispered, oddly echoing his parting words years before. “This is goodbye, Windrider. For good.”
She was left standing in the hall, Charles muttering in her mind that perhaps she should remain behind. Cyclops, Jean, and Erik moved down the long corridor, leaving her behind. She watched his back retreat, old pain ripping her heart in two. He was just going to walk away.
Nothing had changed.
No matter what, Erik always left her. Ororo’s legs gave out. She would have crashed to the floor if Logan had not been waiting behind her. He caught her easily, holding her to his chest. She felt his tears wet the braids of her hair as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Breathe, darlin’,” Logan urged her, his voice thick with emotion.
She felt Charles touch her shoulder, that simple gesture bridging the gap between them. Ororo reached up, taking his hand with one and clinging to Logan with the other. They heard the jet take off several moments later, but they remained.
Erik. Magneto. Baba. He was gone.
~**~
Charles was bundled in his winter coat as he sat in his wheelchair on the porch of the boathouse. Logan manned the grill, his Stetson drawn over his eyes. Ororo had already made their side dishes and set the table. She was wrapped in a warm fleece blanket, not caring if she was immune to the cold or not. She had taken up residence on the wide, gliding porch swing, talking with Charles.
Logan seemed somehow freer. In the most confidential of moments, he had told her that Magneto was gone. He no longer existed for the Wolverine. If Erik regained his memory, he was fair game. But for now, he could be content. Ororo had exacted her vengeance for him.
The duo had invited the Professor for a quiet dinner in the wake of Erik’s departure. Charles had a weakness, as many did, for Logan’s patented grilled chicken, and Ororo could tell he needed to decompress as they did. He was, perhaps, the only X-Man that received invitations without reason. No matter their differences, Charles was a father to both Logan and Ororo.
“How are you holding up, my dear?” Charles asked of her in his rare paternal tone.
Ororo drew her thick blanket more tightly around her. “Wyatt, I am rolling.”
Charles chuckled softly at this, obviously remembering the time when she had fallen in love with the film “Tombstone” and continually quoted Doc Holliday. That had been a year before Erik left their midst.
“Perhaps it is for the best,” Charles said, still smiling.
“He ain’t exactly a threat now,” Logan chimed in from the grill.
He tilted his Stetson back with the neck of his beer bottle, watching his companions carefully.
“Oh, I daresay we have not seen the last of Erik or Magneto,” Charles said quietly. “He seldom does what is expected.”
Ororo had pulled the blanket over her mouth, so that her companions could only see her eyes and the top of her head. She pulled it down quickly to speak.
“If he does return, I am selling tickets when Logan…how is it Bobby says it? Oh, yes, ‘opens a can of whoop-ass’.”
The blanket came back up to her eyes again as Charles chuckled and Logan flashed her a toothy smile.
“She’s my number one fan, ya know.”
Storm winked at him in response.
“Yes, I know,” Charles said, smiling benevolently at them both. “If Magneto does return, I believe you both know your mission.”
Logan’s eyebrows shot up as Storm glanced from one man to the other. Her heart began to pound against her chest.
“Wanna run that one by me again, Chuck?” Logan asked gruffly, apparently not caring that the grill was smoking.
“Check your chicken, Wolverine,” Xavier said pointedly.
Once Logan had removed the thick chicken breasts from the grill and set them on a platter, he came around the grill and plopped next to Storm on the glider. The chicken was placed on the nearby side table, both mutants turning to their leader.
Charles pressed his fingertips together in a thoughtful steeple as he regarded them with serious eyes. Logan’s hand wiggled under the blanket until he could grasp Ororo’s fingers with his. She squeezed his searching limb comfortingly.
“I want you both to understand that this is an official order but held in the highest confidentiality.”
“We understand,” Ororo said, snuggling deeper into her blanket. She had a terrible feeling of what Charles was going to request of them both.
“Got it.” Logan grunted, sitting up to watch their benefactor.
“Should Magneto regain his memory, should he once again take up his ideal of mutant superiority and war,” Charles paused, inhaling deeply. Though she knew this was perhaps the most difficult decision he had ever made, Storm was unable to comfort him.
“You are both ordered to defuse Magneto. Permanently. By any means necessary.”
Logan and Ororo exhaled sharply. They looked to one another. Ororo could see the grim determination and relief in his eyes, wondering if hers betrayed her resolve and pain.
If they did, Logan replied to her with a soft squeeze of his hand.
“Understood.” He nodded to Charles.
“Yes, Professor.” Ororo confirmed, knowing Erik likely would regain his memory.
She would be prepared for that day. She would have to be.
“I am sorry to heap this on you both,” Charles continued. “But I feel I can trust no one else to carry this mission out. You both have much to lose and Magneto caused you great pain. Your leashes are off now.”
“It can’t be easy for ya,” Logan rumbled. “But it’s right. We’ll take care of it. Lets just hope we don’t gotta.”
“Agreed,” Ororo chimed in, pulling her blanket back up to her eyes. “I am sorry, Charles.”
He waved her off, though the pain was written clearly in his eyes. “It must be done. He cannot be allowed to harm more people.”
Wanting to change the subject, Ororo poked Logan with her foot. He turned to her, capturing the limb with his free hand and tickling the bottom. She giggled girlishly, trying to kick her way free.
Charles was smiling and shaking his head at them both.
“Are you planning on feeding me?” He demanded several second later, the pain fading on his handsome face, replaced by playfulness.
“Yes!” Ororo giggled breathlessly at Logan. “Me hungry. Find food.”
“Aw, God,” Logan shook his head. “I’ve made her all cavewoman-like.”
“Food!” Ororo continued, eliciting laughter from both men.
Logan released her hand, pulling her out of the glider. She unwrapped the blanket as he scooped up the chicken platter. Ororo grabbed the back of Charles’ wheelchair, pushing him into the house easily. Impulsively, she leaned down, kissing his bald head.
“I still love you,” she whispered, knowing Logan likely heard her anyway.
“I know,” he nodded. “As I love you.”
“And you will never leave me,” she continued as they reached the small dining area.
“Never.”
