Chapter Ten: Nome
I’m in a state of confusion
I hope things aren’t what they seem
If this is really happening
Just let me go back to dream
You’re home
Tell me I was dreamin’
Tell me that you didn’t say goodbye
~Travis Tritt
JFK International Airport, New York
Three days later
By the time he stepped off the plane, Logan was a complete wreck. He couldn’t explain why or how, but every moment brought him more agony. Waking on the plane, he’d had one brief instant when the last days were only a dream. He was back in Alaska, Ororo hadn’t really ordered him out of her house.
The real world, though, came crashing down around him. He would have given the heart from his chest to make it all a dream. Thrice, the events surrounding his abrupt departure from Henry, Alaska nearly brought him to tears. The look on her lovely face broke his heart again and again.
She never let him explain. Two words brought everything caving in on him. Suddenly, he felt as though he were the one buried alive. Unlike his strong ‘Ro, he couldn’t climb back out of his own grave.
Oh, he had tried to reason with her. He had attempted to bully her into listening to his side of the story. But she merely backed away, letting the elements come close to tearing the cottage down. When, finally, she tossed him his battered duffel bag, he gave up.
The ten-mile walk between her home and Kenny’s hangar seemed endless. The snow, rain, hail, and booming thunder only reminded him of her. His new friend had tried to convince him to return to Ororo’s cottage, backed up by a half-dressed Mary. Logan refused, asking that he be given the first flight to Anchorage.
With the funky weather, though, he’d wound up on Kenny’s sofa for the night. As he lay awake in the darkness, Ororo’s fierce tempest howling around him, he could only think of how just twenty-four hours before, she was in his arms. Nothing hurt him worse than hurting her.
Why hadn’t he just told her? Was protecting her worth it now?
Rubbing tired eyes with shaking hands, Logan shook his head. The airport was alive with a million voices and scents, but he was numb to it all. He craved the eternal darkness of the Alaskan wild. He needed to hear Ororo’s thick, throaty laughter. He ached to touch that buzzing skin.
“Logan!”
He looked up to wave Hank over. His enormous blue friend bounded up with the grace of a jungle cat a quarter his size. Logan let the mutant hug him tightly, but his side of the friendly embrace was half-hearted.
So much of him wanted to hate her. The man in him wanted to write her off as easily as all the others. She was so damn high and mighty that his explanations meant nothing to the cold weather witch. Who the hell did she think she was?
His carnal, animalistic side, however, howled with mourning.
“Logan?” Hank was speaking, though Wolverine barely listened. “What happened, my friend?”
For a long moment, Logan had no reply. Looking into the crystal blue of Beast’s eyes, he struggled to explain his haggard and sudden appearance. All he could think of was Ororo’s teasing smile, her smoky laugh, the touch of her skin.
“Coulda been somethin’,” he said at last. “But it don’t matter now.”
Before Hank could press him about it, Logan hitched his duffle more securely over his shoulder and headed for the door.
~**~
A tall blonde man was waiting for Hank and Logan as they entered the house. Wolverine spared him a quick glance before greeting Marie and Kitty. Both yanked him into a fierce embrace, questioning him as to his dark circled eyes and somber smile.
He ignored their questions, shaking hands with Bobby and Peter, giving Warren one of those curious male embraces. Hand shake, pull in, two hearty back-slaps, retreat. The young man tried valiantly to look strong, but Logan knew better.
One didn’t have to see his molting wings to know he was devastated.
“Braddock,” Wolverine said to the blonde at last.
“Wolverine.”
Captain Britain’s head inclined slightly in greeting, his thick accent reminding Logan of sweet Betsy. As he glanced from the protective brother to gentle love, he felt his heart clench again. He knew what they were going through. If someone took Storm now, he’d likely snap completely.
“I’ll find ‘er,” Wolverine said stubbornly. “Don’t think otherwise. We’ll get her back.”
“Not today,” Hank cut in quickly. He took Logan’s duffel in one hand, grasping the free arm in the other. “It has been a long flight and Logan needs his rest.”
“Hank…”
“Doctor’s orders.”
With a small wave to his friends, Logan allowed Beast to steer him down the hall and up the stairs. He was too exhausted, physically and mentally to put up much of a fight. When they reached the hall where his bedroom was located, he shrugged Hank off quickly.
“Are you sure there is nothing you want to talk about? You know I am here for you, Wolverine,” his friend pressed with concerned eyes.
Logan slapped his shoulder, giving the blue mutant a small, strained smile. “There ain’t nothin’ ta talk about.”
Hank’s expression said clearly that he didn’t believe Logan for a second, but he let him go. Wolverine gave his friend a quick wave before ducking into his bedroom. Once the door closed behind him, he dropped the duffel to the floor.
Everything in his body wanted to rush back to Alaska. He didn’t want to be so far away from her, from that simple, quiet life she’d carved for herself. It irritated him to no end that he missed Ororo. How long had he been in Alaska? Two weeks? Three? She had no damn right worming into his heart, mucking things up in his head.
But his hands felt empty. His skin craved that soothing buzz of her flesh. His ears yearned for her laughter. It wasn’t right. No one was supposed to really matter to him. Sure, he was protective of Rogue and even had a few “friends”, but to want like this…it wasn’t natural.
Logan jammed the heels of his hands into his sore eyes. “Get outta my head.”
Sitting heavily on the bed, he stared down at his hands. Whatever had started in Alaska was over now. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to dwell on it. Could have been something new, something to change their lives forever. Didn’t matter now. All that did matter was that she wanted him gone. He’d given her that. Once he found Betsy, found the bastards that were kidnapping women, he would be able to recapture his life. Ororo’s abduction had screwed everything up. It would be nice to get back to it.
Logan didn’t need a telepath to know he was lying to himself.
~**~
They were all in the War Room late the same night Logan returned. The X-Men, joined by Captain Britain, sat around the wide table, watching Hank give his presentation. Logan chimed in when needed, but he mainly sat back to watch his friends work.
Twice, Chuck had given him a look across the room. It was filled with sad understanding and slight surprise. Logan avoided meeting the gaze when he could. The last thing he wanted to do right now was rehash the entire Storm issue.
Braddock was going over the particulars of his sister’s abduction. Logan knew it had to smart, knowing he had been powerless to stop the men from taking her. Warren’s wings continually shivered, sending limp, white feathers to the floor as he tried to control himself.
Marie, now without her mutant powers, was their new computer expert. She had loaded everything onto the mansion’s mainframe, where Kitty would call up holographic images to show the assembled mutants. Logan watched the spinning photo of Betsy switch to Ororo and then the other victims.
“From the information gathered by Wolverine and Storm in Alaska, we have a general idea of what they are planning with Betsy,” Beast said in a flat tone.
“Yeah,” Logan cut in, flipping the ink pen he’d stolen from Kitty over his fingers. “They wanna gut her, take somethin’ ain’t theirs.”
He sent Brian and Warren a cold look. “We won’t let ‘em.”
Both men seemed to accept Logan’s promise and Beast went on.
“The odd thing about Betsy’s abduction was the M.O. does not fit. All the other victims lived alone, usually far from a dense population. For many of them a missing persons report was filed days after the disappearance, if at all.”
“Kitty, the map, please.” Xavier requested in his dulcet tones.
Two keyboards clacked as the girls accessed the information.
A large world map appeared on the screen, littered with several glowing points. Hank pushed away from the table, pointing to the map. “Each point represents a kidnapping victim, the first eight, here in North America, are Storm and the victims found at her burial site.”
Logan inwardly winced, staring at the tiny light hovering where he knew Henry, Alaska was located. Was she there now? Had she regretted sending him away?
He snapped the pen in his hand. Hiding it quickly, he stuffed the broken plastic into his pocket, keeping his eyes on the map.
“The only link between the victims was the fact that they were mutants. Height, weight, coloring, and mutations were all different.”
Beast nodded to the girls, whom brought up another map. Several tiny lights illuminated Western Europe. Logan’s eyes lingered on the dot over London. Poor Bets. His strong, willful pupil was in her own hell right at this moment. He’d already lost three days, he had to find her. Fast.
“All of these disappearances match the tentative M.O., save for Betsy. Six other females were taken from their homes within two days of Psylocke’s kidnapping.”
Many of the gathered mutants stared in a sort of mute horror at what Hank was showing them. Logan spotted several more dots appear one by one. They now covered South America and part of Africa.
“The yellow dots,” Beast said softly. “Are disappearances within the last two years. I bring these up because… Kitty?”
The young girl nodded, typing quickly into the console in her lap. Her tiny bottom lip quivered as several photographs flipped through the holographic projector. Several mass graves were suddenly right there in the War Room. Sheet-covered bodies, mounds of snow-littered earth all surrounded by bewildered police officers.
“In the last two years, three other gravesites were unearthed in northern Canada and eastern Alaska. The local police could not connect enough dots and with no living victims, they had nothing to work on.”
Logan frowned, staring at the dots through narrowed eyes. “They’re still up north.”
“You do not think they have relocated following Ororo’s recovery?” Charles questioned him quietly.
“No,” Wolverine shook his head. “Ya don’t know the area. There’s a million caves, thousands of valleys, wood so thick a bear could get lost. They dump the bodies too far to make a difference, but they’re still up there.”
“That’s a lot of land to cover,” Brian said forlornly. “How could we ever hope to locate the missing women now?”
“Hey, Hank?” Logan sat up, the front legs of his chair hitting the tile floor with a resounding bang.
“Yes?”
“How many of them other girls were telepaths?”
~**~
She did not miss him.
Ororo moodily brought her dusting rag over the thick wood of her mantle, taking the dust from the now shining surface. Andine and Eliar were watching her cautiously, as they had since that horrible evening just days ago.
She tried to put it all out of her mind, to just go back to who she was before the kidnapping. This was her life, her choice, what right did that stubborn, crude, ridiculous man have coming to churn her up?
She huffed, fidgeting with her newly reframed photographs on the mantle. Once they were rearranged to her liking, she turned toward the coffee table. As she kneeled to polish the finely carved edges, she continued telling herself that she didn’t miss him.
His haunted eyes did not plague her. That destroyed, pleading look on his face as she ordered him out of her home did not wake her in the middle of the night. She had done right. Logan had lied to her, keeping Charles’ miraculous survival from her. He was a liar, a murderer.
Pain twisted her heart so acutely that she gripped her chest, cleaning rag and all. Her free hand gripped the edge of the table for balance, fighting to breathe. Goddess, it hurt just thinking about that damned man. She wanted to beat him to death with her bare hands for making her ache in ways she’d never dreamed possible.
Her lovely life out here in the wild seemed empty now. There was no song in the swirling Northern Lights, no comfort in the quiet dark of Alaskan winter. Her dogs, it seemed, even rebuffed her now. He had come to save her life, but in leaving destroyed it beyond repair.
It was far past unbelievable when she had entered the house to overhear Logan’s conversation. With her deliveries finished, she was smiling, happy to see him after a day apart. But when she heard him say “Chuck” her world came down around her ears. Charles was alive and Logan had deliberately kept that information from her. How could he be so cruel?
Hearing her adoptive father’s voice brought all the walls around her heart back up. Logan’s presence had gone far in tearing them down, but in one moment she remembered why she lived in the wild. It wasn’t worth the pain to be around so many people. Logan had reminded her of that.
And yet, in the dead of night, she still reached for him. Her pillow smelled of him, and before she could stop herself, she would inhale the scent eagerly. Ororo hated herself for the weakness. She barely knew him and one night of passion did not endless love make.
But, oh, how she missed so much more of him. His lopsided smile and flirting innuendo. Storm wanted to smell the smoke of his cigar, to feel his massive hands on her aching flesh. His laugh, his growl, that mulish overprotective nature.
She really did miss him.
“Pull yourself together, girl,” she muttered to herself when finally the pain in her chest ebbed.
Whatever could have been between them was gone now. She had sent him away, back to New York where he belonged. So many times during that first, terrible night she nearly bolted into the frigid night. She actually weakened to the point that she rushed to Kenny’s the following morning. What she would have said to Wolverine she would never know.
Kenny had just returned from dropping Logan at the Anchorage airport. Her friend told her with sad eyes that he’d watched Wolverine board a plane heading for Washington. Ororo’s heart had clenched, but she managed to get home all on her own. Logan was gone. It was for the best.
Her stubborn heart called her a liar, screaming it inside. There was nothing she could do now. Logan was in New York now, back among the X-Men where he made his life without her. Ororo remained in Alaska, in the wild that was now her home.
“You fuckin’ idiot!”
Startled by the voice coming from the other side of her front door, Ororo whipped her head around. She scrambled to her feet, staring at the door even as what sounded like a body slammed into it.
“Open the goddamn door, Ororo Munroe! NOW!”
“Mary?” Surprised, to say the very least, Ororo rushed to the door.
When she opened it, Mary stomped forward, poking her in the chest with an accusing finger.
“You stupid, stubborn…” The girl said something in Inuit that made Storm blush.
“Mary!”
“Don’t you ‘Mary’ me, woman,” her friend continued, coming inside and slamming the door with her foot. “What the hell are you doing?”
Weary with her own emotions, Storm shook her head, rubbing at her temple. “Cleaning.”
“Cleaning?!” Mary’s voiced reached decibels that only dolphins might understand as she grabbed Storm by the shoulders and shoved her onto the sofa.
“Why are you sitting here in your clean little cottage? Why in the name of the Lights aren’t you in New York, groveling?”
“Groveling?” Ororo questioned insolently.
“Uh-huh, groveling. On your damn knees begging your mountain man to take you back.” Mary plopped onto the coffee table, pinning Ororo to the sofa while her friend glared at her.
“I do not grovel,” she replied frostily. “And he lied to me.”
“Sure he did, but that’s really not the point,” Mary rested her elbows on her knees, leaning closer to Ororo. “Did you give him a chance to explain?”
Ororo stubbornly lifted her chin, crossing her arms over her chest. “No.”
“Did you think you might have overreacted?”
“No.”
“Did you see the look on his face?” Mary’s voice dropped to a pained whisper. “I think yanking his heart out of his chest with a dull spoon would have been easier on him.”
Trying to deny the clench in her heart at this, Ororo shook her head. “It matters not.”
“Bullshit!” The Inuit woman threw her hands up in dismay. “Storm, I don’t see the problem. He’s crazy about you, you’re crazy about him and you made him walk away. What is your problem?”
Storm stood abruptly, walking away from her screeching friend until she reached the kitchen. Once there, she slammed the refrigerator open, locating a bottle of beer quickly. After snapping the top off, she took a long, burning draw. Mary’s eyes were still on her, but Ororo needed a moment to think.
With a glassy clunk, she put the bottle on the spotless breakfast bar, flattening her palms on the linoleum. She flinched when her hand molded over the indentation left by Logan’s adamantium fist. Her fingers traced the cracked surface lovingly.
“’Roro?”
“There was no love between us, Mary,” the weather goddess said at last. “Respect and sex. We made no promises. He destroyed whatever trust I had in him.”
“I know you, sweetie.” Her friend’s voice was solemn. “If you were on top of a burning building, you’d jump off if he said he’d catch you.”
“He is an X-Man, that is his job.”
“Ok,” Mary sighed, slapping her thighs in annoyance. “Right this second, if he came walking through that door, you’d break. You’d hold him close and tell him to never leave.”
Ororo almost choked as emotion welled in her throat, though she wanted to vehemently deny Mary’s careful words.
“But he won’t,” she went on. “He’s not that kind of man. You sent him away, ‘Roro. He won’t come near you again. Men like Wolverine don’t crawl.”
“Then, what have I to worry about?”
By the Goddess, she knew that was true. In the secret, dark places of her heart, she hoped that he might turn around and come back. She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she wanted him to. What she would give to see him lovingly scratch her beloved Huskies or shake snow from his hair.
“Dying alone,” Mary said bluntly, making Ororo look up sharply. “Not one man in a million would put up with your shit. You know it, I know it.”
“You’re losing the high ground here, sweetheart,” Ororo warned, her eyes stinging as anger threatened to weaken her hold on the elements.
“Oh yeah, I know you,” Mary sighed as she stood. “You wouldn’t hurt me. What you will do is sit in this damn cottage, make your deliveries, feed your dogs. You’ll pine away until you’re an old woman telling stories down at the local bar about your once adventurous life.”
“What do want me to say, Mary?” Storm questioned, her hand stubbornly not moving from Logan’s dent.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” her friend replied quickly. “I want you to hop in that little blue plane and go find him. There was something between you, ‘Roro. You’re an idiot for trying to convince yourself otherwise.”
With that, Mary stood and walked out of the cottage. Ororo looked to her dogs, whom sat placidly in front of the fireplace. They stared at her in a sort of disbelief. The Lights twinkled in the window behind them, all reminders of what her life was now.
Leaving her open beer abandoned on the counter, she moved toward the bedroom. She shrugged out of her clothing before pulling on the one shirt Logan had left behind. It was gray flannel and still carried the scent of his cigars.
She buttoned it up, climbed into bed and clutched her pillow. Mary may have been right about her, but that didn’t mean Ororo was going to change. Men like Wolverine didn’t crawl. Women like Storm didn’t grovel.
It was hours before she managed to tumble into a fitful sleep.
~**~
The day following Mary’s verbal scolding found Ororo in the coastal city of Nome. Though the temperatures were frigid, she was outside of a small hangar, scraping ice from the underside of her plane.
It was good, honest work, keeping the plane in good order. She had already changed a few damaged parts and tightened loose bolts. In several hours, the soothing, methodic work had calmed her considerably.
Earlier that morning in the Anchorage airport, she’d contemplated buying a ticket in the general direction of New York. The compulsion was so strong it momentarily winded her. She stared at the ticket agent for several minutes until her rational mind overtook the urge.
Here she was now, in Nome, repairing the plane that would take her home to Henry. Kenny had called just minutes ago, telling her that the entire gang would be at Dottie’s, eagerly awaiting her arrival. Unlike his new girlfriend, Kenny seemed to understand that Ororo did not want to chew old soup and avoided mentioning Logan.
Finished with the ice, she slid out from under the plane easily, patting the metallic side lovingly. The little blue “Beast” needed a paint job, which she could finish quickly. The name of her beloved airplane was almost faded completely.
Deciding to question Luke Harding “ the owner of the hangar “ about locating a small can of dark blue paint, she moved toward the office quickly. The rag in the back pocket of her jeans found it’s way into her hands so she could wipe them off.
Luke’s voice drifted toward her as the office door banged closed, mingling with one that was eerily familiar. Cold, creeping dread slid down her back, pooling in her stomach as she rounded the corner. Where did she know that voice from?
“Yes, I had heard she was performing in Nome this evening. Thank you for such a pleasant flight, give my regards to your pilot, please.”
“Sure thing,” Luke was replying as Ororo came closer. The man he was speaking to was obscured by the tail of Brendan’s bright red plane. She tiptoed a little closer, peering around the edge of the tail.
Memory slammed through Storm’s mind with the effect of a hurricane wind. Gasping through the sudden pain, she blinked rapidly while images she wished to never see again ripped through her already tortured mind.
Needles. Pain. Men in masks. Give her another dose, she’s going through it like saline.
“YOU!”
Ororo’s scream alerted both Luke and the man in an expensive black suit to her presence. She darted forward even as the mysterious doctor turned to run from her. Luke, bewildered and terrified, came toward her.
“No! Luke! Catch him!”
Her friend needed no more prompting. He turned and bolted after the fleeing doctor. Following Luke’s bulky frame, Ororo rounded the hangar door like a woman possessed. What was this man doing here? Who was he after? Had he warned Logan?
Ororo caught up to Luke easily, both of them skidding on the ice. The doctor had rushed for the landing strip. He was running blindly, heedless to Luke’s shouts to stand down. Ororo let her eyes stingingly change from blue to white, gathering the weather around her. She would have her answers from this man.
Or not.
The howl of a commercial jet flying in from Anchorage heralded the doctor’s final moments. As he slipped and stumbled along the slick runway, the jet eased over him. Ororo halted, covering her eyes as the doctor was sucked into the massive engine. A spray of crimson out of the opposite end told her all she needed to know.
“’Roro!” Luke cried over the jet’s sputter. “The plane!”
“By the Goddess.”
Ororo pulled the winds around her and launched into the air. The jet’s engine was damaged, the weight discrepancy making it tilt dangerously. If she did not intervene, quickly, the plane filled with civilians would crash directly into the airport.
In her element, Storm pushed her hands toward the staggering jet, drawing all the wind she could get her mutation on. She grunted with the force such an action required, but she managed to stabilize the plane.
It landed scant yards away with an angry groan. She heard the engines power down even as rescue crews rushed the scene. Storm lowered herself to the ground beside Luke, whom was staring at her in awe.
Though many of her Alaskan friends knew of her past, of her status as a mutant, few had seen her actually use the power of nature. His eyes were wide as dinner plates, his mouth slack from shock.
“Close your mouth, Luke,” she said gently as she reached him. “Who was that man talking about? The performer.”
“Uh,” Luke stuttered for a moment. “Some singer, uh, Alison Blaire, I think.”
“Dazzler?” Ororo pressed, her mind working furiously.
“Yeah, that’s her. What the hell’s goin’ on?” He questioned, seemingly locating his scattered wits.
“That man had something to do with my abduction and if I do not find a phone, quickly, Dazzler may be another victim.”
“I’ve got a land line in my office.”
The duo rushed back into the hangar, ignoring the scrambling rescue crews and frightened passengers. Ororo’s X-Men training ensured that they never stuck around once the proper authorities had control of things.
Inside Luke’s cramped office, she grabbed for the phone and dialed for Xavier’s Institute, as it was now called according to Logan. She tapped her fingers impatiently on a stack of invoices while the line rang.
Something on the invoice pile caught her eye and she picked up the top sheet as someone answered on the mansion’s end of the line.
“Hello?”
“Kitty, it’s Storm.”
“Storm? Oh, my God!”
“Kitten, hush,” Ororo said, narrowing her eyes at the invoice. “I want you to get Wolverine. I need to speak with him.”
“Uh, he’s in the Danger Room.” The girl replied, though Ororo could hear her running footsteps.
Waving the invoice at Luke, she silently asked if it was the doctor’s flight bill. Her friend nodded, coming over to her with a puzzled expression. Ororo smiled, slow and bordering on feral as Kitty called her name.
“Tell Wolverine I may have found Elizabeth.”
