The stringent scent of antiseptic brought forth fragments of a past he had yet to piece together, along with the lingering pain and hostility from those experiences that continuously drifted on the rim of his consciousness.
The tang of chemicals and anesthesia stung his eyes, clung to the back of his throat, making him want to gag. His nostrils flared and muscles corded with tension. To say hospitals put him on edge was a severe understatement. He was teetering on the edge now, but for the woman down the hall he would suffer the uncomfortable scents and fragmented shards of past piercing his brain. For her, he would suffer anything.
He took a shuddering breath, forking fingers through disarrayed locks. She couldn’t die. He couldn’t lose her. He just…couldn’t. Losing her would destroy any vestige of good left in him… Losing her would kill his humanity.
He took another deep breath. And another.
It didn’t help.
“Here. You look like you could use this.”
Logan spun on his heel; the fact that anyone could sneak up on him testament to how distracted he was. In the private waiting room entryway Marie stood, a steaming Styrofoam cup outstretched towards him. Her eyes were red and puffy and he could detect the saline in the air; physical manifestations of her sadness.
His eyes took in her overall appearance and the slightly guarded way she held herself. It was more than coffee she was offering, he knew. It was a peace offering. An apology. And maybe even a prayer rolled into a Styrofoam cup.
He stepped forward and took the cup. “Thanks, kid.” He swallowed the bitter, day old coffee without really tasting it.
Marie removed her wool overcoat, placing it across the back of one of the empty chairs. “Any news?”
“No.” He swallowed more of the stale coffee, closing his eyes.
“Storm is strong, Logan. She’ll pull through. ” Marie echoed Henry’s earlier prediction. “She’s the strongest woman I know. Determined. Stubborn. Tenacious. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word defeat.”
Logan stared into the black liquid, his breathing slightly irregular.
As though unsure of what to do with her hands, Marie began to rub them against one another. “So…would you…uhm…like me to wait with you?”
Bleary gray eyes met teary hazel ones. Despite the recent unsettling between them, Logan knew it was this girl that had brought him hope; had given him his first reason to love again. Whether she knew it or not, Marie would always hold a special place in his heart, one that engraved and not easily eroded. “Yeah.”
She sat.
They waited.
The sun was bright, it’s rays illuminating the vast green acres of manicured lawn and hedge work, but it was not warm.
Ororo strolled the cobblestone garden path, her fingers lazily brushing across the soft blooms of Charles’ prized roses, stirring the petals, but eliciting no scent. No breeze ruffled her hair, no bees buzzed her ears. All was still.
Eerily still and silent.
Unnatural.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here now, but she wasn’t sure exactly where she was supposed to be. So, she walked. The cobblestone path was as she remembered, winding through the sculpted bushes, leading her to her family’s resting place.
Slowly she rounded the hedged bushes, entering the small cemetery enclosed by the living walls of the garden.
“Hello, Ororo.”
Jean Grey stood in front of her tombstone, looking every bit as lovely as Ororo remembered her; long flowing red hair, vivid green eyes, alabaster skin and of course, Scott faithfully at her side. They were both dressed in their X-men uniforms-- and that somehow seemed fitting.
Ororo should have been surprised. She wasn’t. “Jean! Scott!”
The couple moved to embrace her, circling her in their arms and suddenly Ororo felt …warmth, safety, comfort. She buried her face in Jean’s long red tresses, inhaling her fresh lilac shampoo. Just like she remembered.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. She kissed Scott’s cheek, feeling the stubble against her lips, the warmth of his skin.
“Ditto,” he squeezed her hands, his smile broad across his handsome face.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to miss us for awhile longer,” Jean informed her with a compassionate smile. “You can‘t stay here too long, you still have work to do.”
Ororo grimaced slightly. “I can feel myself being pulled away from here already.”
“The doctors are determined to bring you back.” Scott informed her.
“Bring me back? Am I dead?”
“Not quite…”
“BP dropping… 85 over 15... We’re losing her!”
Hank closed his eyes. “Come on, Ororo…Stay with us.”
Ororo cocked her head, listening. She swore someone just said her name. She shrugged dismissing it before regarding Jean and Scott once more. “I know we’re not really at the school, so, where are we?”
“Neither here nor there.” Jean answered with a vague wave of her hand.
Ororo snorted. “That’s not the most comforting answer.”
“She likes to be mysterious.” Scott added affectionately.
“Sorry.” Jean replied with genuine sympathy. “But it’s the only answer I can provide.”
Scott kissed Ororo’s cheek and stepped back to Jean’s side, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Your struggles aren’t over yet, Storm, but just remember to keep strong. No matter what happens, keep strong. You‘re an X-Man. It‘s what we do.”
Ororo felt another pull, but warded off returning just yet. “I am really not liking the sounds of that.”
Jean nodded and there was a flash of gold in her green eyes. “You have overcome so much, dear sister, and yet, sadly, there is so much more…” She glanced at Scott. As if taking some unsaid cue he grinned at Ororo once more and slowly began to fade away.
Ororo lifted her hand and waved farewell.
Once he was gone, Jean sighed, her gaze solemn. “It was enough,” she said quietly.
Ororo tilted her head, confused. “Jean?”
Jean laid one hand flat against her own memorial. “Not too long ago, in this very spot, you called me an ungrateful bitch, saying that the love you all gave me was never enough for me…but it was. It was more than enough.”
Ororo cringed, recalling her drunken tirade. “Jean--”
The redhead smiled gently. “Don’t apologize, Storm. You had every right to be angry… you still do if you choose.”
“No. I’ve forgiven you.”
“And yourself?” Jean knew her too well.
“…Yes...”
“Logan… helped with that.”
Ororo felt herself flush. “Yes, he did.”
“He’s been very good for you.” There was a trace of wistfulness in Jean’s voice. “He needs you.”
“I need him too,” Ororo confessed. “I love him.”
Jean nodded, turning to stare up at the sky. “I know you do. Hold onto that love, Ororo. In the future, when all seems lost, hold onto that.”
There it was again, that enigmatic phrasing that Ororo loathed so much. Charles used to do it to her all the time, and it seemed a trait he had passed onto his number one student. “Jean?”
“It’s time for you to go now.”
“Wait, Jean, what did you mean when it all seems lost--?”
“I love you, Ororo.” Jean blew her a kiss.
“Jean! Wait! Jean!”
“Be strong.”
“Jean! Wait! Where’s Charles? Can I see him before I go?”
Jean’s smile was mysterious as she faded away.
Logan’s head snapped up the moment he caught Henry’s scent. He stood abruptly, knocking empty Styrofoam cups haphazardly to the floor. Fifteen hours had passed like a hundred years and he was impatient for the results of Ororo‘s surgery. “How is she?” he demanded before Henry had even crossed the threshold.
Removing his surgical mask, weariness oozing from his every pore, Henry breathed a heavy sigh. “It was touch and go for awhile,” he reported softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as was his habit when stressed. “Her injuries are significant. The bullet was lodged deep between two vertebrae. These next few hours will be critical.”
“But she’s gonna be okay?” Marie inquired. She sat up slowly from her curled position in one of the chairs, where she’d been dozing. “Right?”
Henry spared her a tender look. “Ororo is not out of the woods yet, Marie. She is critical but stable.”
“Stable is good though,” Marie said optimistically. She placed her hand on Logan’s back, to assure him of her presence should he need her.
Henry knew that Logan needed hope more than anything at that moment so he conceded, “Yes, Marie, stable is good.”
Logan exhaled the breath he was holding. “When can I see her?”
“Normally they don’t let any visitors in during this critical time, but I believe having you near her will be more beneficial to both of you than keeping you waiting out here. She’s in a secluded room down the hall. 516B.”
Logan was already heading towards the door. He stopped; turned. “Thanks for the company, kiddo.”
Marie wiped her eyes. “Anytime. Now go and see your woman,” she said tearfully.
He needed no further urging. He turned and jogged down the hall.
Marie glanced over towards Henry. “Is she really going to be all right?”
Henry‘s eyes never quite met hers. “Only time will tell.”
The room was dim, shades drawn and lights low. Logan made his way unerringly to the small, railed bed, his throat tightening when he caught sight of Ororo’s pasty complexion and limp form. She looked… he didn’t even want to think the word. If not for the incessant blip of her heart monitor he may have panicked.
“Hey, darlin’.” He encased her slender hand in his. With that single hand she could wield thunderstorms forceful enough to wreck a building; lightening that could scorch the flesh from bone and yet nothing had ever felt so frail in his grip. “I’m right here waitin’ for you to wake up.”
Her fingers twitched.
Logan bent his head forward, forcibly choking back his anger and anguish. He never should have let his guard down. He never should have broken protocol. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d protect her. He’d protect her with his dying breath if need be. Never again would he risk losing her.
“Never again,” he vowed out loud.
Her throat was sore. That was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she became aware of was Logan. Seated directly beside her bed, his smile was one of such joy and tenderness that she thought she was probably delusional from the drugs.
“Hey,” he said by way of greeting, bringing her fingertips to his lips.
“Hi.” Her brow furrowed, trying to focus. She felt drained. Sore. Stiff. “How long have I been out?”
“Couple days.”
She took in his rumpled clothing and shadowed features. “You’ve been here this whole time?”
He shrugged. “Nowhere else to be.”
Ororo blinked slowly, then rapidly, still trying to focus.
“You ok, darlin’?”
“Headache.”
“I’ll get the doctor--”
“No.” She halted him. “Just… stay with me.”
He sat back down. His eyes were gravely serious when he said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not anticipating an attack, for not protecting you--”
She was already shaking her head. “Logan, hush. I’m a big girl, and an X-Man. I can look after myself--well, uh, normally. So hush. This is in no way your fault.” She struggled to lift her head. “Ugh.” She grimaced, closing her eyes.
“’Ro-”
She shook her head slightly. “I’m fine, just a little woozy.”
“You need to rest.”
She gave him a one eyed look. “I think I’ve rested enough.”
“I ain’t having you over-do anything.”
“Worry-wart.” she mumbled.
“What was that?”
Both eyes opened. “I called you a worry-wart.”
He smirked, patting her thigh. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Ororo’s brows dropped. “Logan…”
“Hm?”
“Do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Touch my leg.”
He caught the anxious tone in her raspy voice and immediately obeyed. He squeezed her thigh gently.
Ororo’s eyes widened. “Again.” Once more. Oh, God… She lifted blue rimmed eyes. “I didn’t feel that.”
Logan tensed, but forced himself to remain calm. “Hey, you’ve got a lot of drugs running through ya. Probably some shit to numb ya…”
“I can’t move them!” Ororo’s anxious tone turned into a frightened edge. “Logan!”
“Easy, darlin’.” He grasped her shoulders. “Relax.”
“Why can’t I move?” Her voice cracked.
“I don’t know…maybe it’s a sedative…” Even to him it sounded false.
“I can’t feel anything…” She shook her head back and forth in mute denial.
Logan gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I’m goin’ to find Hank.”
She nodded once.
“I won’t be long.”
“Okay.”
Her defeated voice ate at him.
“It’s probably nothin’, babe.”
She wasn’t looking at him anymore, however. Instead she was staring at her useless appendages. When Logan left the room Ororo wiped her eyes. “Oh, Jean…why?”
