Chapter Fourteen: Standing Still
Oh, I still want her
And I still need him so
I don’t know why we let each other go
If you see her, tell her the light’s still on for her
Nothing’s changed, deep down the fire still burns for him
~Reba McEntire & Brooks and Dunn
Henry, Denali National Park
Six months later
If someone were to fly over the small, neat homestead bordering a fresh river and dense forest, they might have found something quite easy on the eyes. A lone woman moved from the greenhouse, which smelled of rich herbs and blooming lilac, flanked by two horribly shedding Husky pups.
She was smiling, carrying a basket over one arm that was filled with freshly cut herbs and a bouquet of pretty flowers. Several of the vases inside the pretty white house were waiting to be filled.
The sunlight was ever present now, lasting into the lonely hours of the night. Behind her, the river babbled soothingly amid noises that belonged to the wild alone. Bears and predatory cats were plentiful, but they remained on “their” side of the invisible border.
Hair white as freshly fallen snow fell around the woman’s shoulders. Her skirt whispered against her legs as bare feet dug into the dew-wet grass. The dogs were barking playfully, turning from their mistress to romp nearby, happy and content with one another.
From the outside looking in, it was a picture perfect moment. One not privy to the intricacies of this woman’s life would never guess that just seven months ago she was forever altered. Her kidnapping was old news now, rarely thought of by any of the three hundred souls populating a village five miles south.
Ororo called her dogs back to her, shaking her head in fond exasperation at their antics. They had been together for nearly two years now, a family that not even military abductors could tear apart.
Beneath this beautiful picture, there was overwhelming sorrow. When she had first come to this place, to this life, she grieved for her brother, sister, and father. Now, she mourned a decision made in the freezing winter.
She thought of him often. Her feral, animalistic, “mountain man” as Mary often referred to him. Through frequent phone calls to the mansion, she learned of his comings and goings. They never spoke personally, but messages were relayed through their connecting family. Messages that were simple, messages that never gave any hint to what lay beneath the surface.
Warren and Betsy were married just weeks after the woman’s own rescue. They lived at the school, though Wolverine helped the newlyweds remodel the old boathouse on the northern end of the property. It was a touching thought and pictures from the simple church ceremony adorned her mantelpiece.
The urge to fight for mutant rights never returned. She remained in this wild, living a simple life far from anything resembling a hate crime. About as lively as her home got at any given moment was down at Dottie’s during a Patriots versus Giants game. A hate crime here was wearing a Redskins sweatshirt.
Ororo’s home was open to the balmy July morning, letting a fresh breeze in through screened windows. She left the back door open, latching the screen so she could see the rambunctious Huskies at play. The house was her personal sanctuary, though the memories could seem suffocating when she least expected it.
As for the evil behind her kidnappings, there was little information. The X-Men investigated an old missile silo in Whitehorse, Canada, only to find the recent occupants had vacated. The trail, after that, was stone cold. With little to go on, at least for now, the mutant superheroes turned their attention to other things.
After placing her flowers in vases, inhaling the sweet scent of beautiful blooms, Ororo bunched her herbs up. A rubber band was tied around long stalks and the bunches placed upside down on a ceiling rack to dry. In a few days the wonderful scent would fade, but there would be enough dried herbs to take to the Fairbanks market one weekend.
She left the house again, armed with a large watering can. It was filled with the carefully rolled up hose so she could move about the wraparound porch, watering her tubs of gardenia. She had pansies on the north side of the house simply because she loved to watch them turn upward to the sun.
“You make a pretty picture.”
Ororo turned sharply, clutching at her heart. The watering can fell to the ground with a muted thump, spilling it’s contents on the porch.
“Mary!”
“What?” the girl grinned, bouncing up from the driveway in her cutoff shorts and tank top.
“You will be the death of me,” Ororo chided before embracing her friend warmly.
“Oh, yeah? Well, Kenny killed me last night,” the bubbly woman said excitedly. “I still think I might be dead and this is heaven.”
Your heaven, darling, my torment. “What did that man do now?”
Mary popped her left hand out, pointing her fingers downward to show off the enormous diamond now affixed to her ring finger. In a display of complete and utter girlishness, Ororo squealed with delight so that it reverberated off of the surrounding mountains.
Both women were laughing as they embraced warmly. Ororo immediately steered her into the house, insisting that they celebrate over iced tea and chocolate cake.
“It was so weird!” Mary gushed as she took her usual place on a barstool to watch Ororo move through the kitchen.
“How? When? What did he say?” Ororo demanded information while she grabbed glasses from the cupboard and plates from the drying rack.
“Well, we were playing Mutant Terrorist…” Mary began only to be cut off.
“Could we have this stirring tale without the kinky sex games, for my sake?” She made a face, which made Mary howl with laughter.
“Ok, ok.” The girl braided her thick mane of jet black, tying it with one of the elastics Ororo kept in a dish on the counter. “So, we’re…lying there. Afterward and all. And all of the sudden, he turns to me, naked as the day he was born.”
Ororo mimed vomiting, earning her an elastic snapped in her general direction.
“He just sat there, looking at me for the longest time. Then he pulled this pretty black box from under his pillow and says: “Mary, I’ve loved you for longer than Alaska’s loved her Northern Lights. Nothing in this world would make me happier than becoming your husband. Will you marry me?”
Having halted in the middle of her friend’s teary recitation of her fiancé’s words, Ororo’s face crumbled with the emotion. Mary, her dear friend during the worst parts of her life, had never believed she would find someone she loved. Kenny, having pined for the dark beauty most of his natural life, had finally filled in the void left by disinterested parents and a string of abusive boyfriends.
Ororo thought she might cry. She set the dishes on the bar and moved to her friend, enveloping her in a bone-bruising hug.
“You are both incredibly lucky, my love,” Ororo whispered, kissing Mary’s temple.
“Oh, I’m just…” She choked. “I can’t even think. I feel like I’m so light, I could float away.”
“Well, if you do, I will be there to zap your ass down in time for the wedding.”
They broke apart, smiling again. Ororo rushed to the refrigerator, only to pause at the photograph held to the freezer door by a ceramic Husky magnet. Mary was talking about possible wedding plans, but her voice faded into the background.
The photo was the only one without a frame in her picture laden home. She received it just after the X-Men returned to New York, a gift from Kitty. She had snapped it that night in Dottie’s, while Storm danced with Wolverine. Every time she looked at it, pain ripped through her heart anew.
He was holding her hand, looking at her with a soft, sweet smile on his face. For her part, Ororo was clutching his shoulder, her other hand entwined with his. The smile on her face was alien, if only because she had never seen that expression on her own face. Tender happiness reflected in the glossy portrait.
Even the surrounding couples were blurred, highlighting the dancing pair as though intentionally focusing on them. Ororo touched Logan’s handsome face with one fingertip before she jarred herself back to the real world.
“And I’ve decided to quit working at the Lodge to become the new spokesperson for the Ab-Roller.”
Ororo blinked, then turned to her friend with confusion on her face. “What?”
Mary was careful about mentioning the “Wolverine Thing” as she less-than-fondly termed it. When informed of Ororo’s decision, the girl had tried for weeks to get her to go back on it. Screaming matches, crying jags, and all manner of influence did not change her friend’s mind. Those tactics failing, Mary promptly quit speaking to Ororo for nearly a month.
Oddly enough, Ororo understood. Mary was nosy and overly enthusiastic, but she alone knew what Storm had gone through when she first arrived in Henry. Logan, in Mary’s mind, made Ororo happy. Anything that made her friend happy was worth keeping around. Storm’s refusal to let Logan into her life completely mystified the young woman.
That was behind them now, but Mary never brought Logan up. She would gladly talk about him, especially during the midnight calls she received from her friend when the sorrow became too much.
“I just asked if you’d be my maid of honor, but as you’re ignoring me…”
“Of course I will,” Ororo said with a smile. She took the cake and tea from the fridge and moved to her friend.
They sat on opposite sides of the bar, munching on cake and talking wedding plans for the next hour. Ororo’s mind drifted back to Logan more than once, but she was cautious about speaking his name. She knew, without a doubt, that he would come to Alaska for the wedding.
“I’m going to ask him to come,” Mary said at last, as though reading Storm’s thoughts. “When Ken and I are in New York next week.”
Exhaling slowly, Ororo nodded. “He adores you, he will come.”
“I know, but I want you to be ok with it. It comes down to you or him, you win every time, sweetcakes.”
Ororo smiled at her friend fondly. “It will never come to that. Now, what about this trip? When does Alison arrive to provide escort?”
“Tomorrow,” Mary practically squealed. “There’s a Dottie’s night for all of us, you’re coming if I have to drag you.”
“I would not miss it. She has become quite fond of the X-Men life.”
Alison, the kidnapping target Ororo had found in Nome, was an official X-Woman now. The blonde singer had taken one look at Xavier’s School and fallen in love. She returned every few months to Alaska to visit with Ororo and Mary. The younger women had hit it off almost immediately at their first meeting.
Visits from Alison were always interesting.
“Do you…” Mary cleared her throat. “Have messages or anything for anyone?”
Ever the matchmaker, Ororo thought fondly.
She glanced at the photograph on the freezer door and took a deep, calming breath. Oh, she had a million things she wanted to say to him. Most phrases she kept to herself were various forms of begging, pleading, and words of undying love.
Though the decision still seemed the rational one, she wondered every night if it was the right one. It still hurt, remembering his final, innocent kiss before he walked out of her home. Everything in her body had screamed to follow him, to tell him she had changed her mind.
“If you see him,” the mutant began.
He had likely moved on. There were other women out there, ones with submissive natures and fertile wombs. Logan wouldn’t still be pining for her.
“Tell him I send my best wishes.”
Mary’s face, which had lit up with hope, crumbled instantly. She shook her head sadly, but agreed to pass the message on as she moodily stabbed her fork into a piece of her chocolate cake.
~**~
Several hours later
No one entered his rooms anymore. Even the cleaning was done by the sole occupant. Should he ever catch one of the students lingering by his door, they were scared out of their wits. Ali constantly teased him about his secret stash of porn getting out of hand, but most of the X-Men knew better.
Logan sat at the desk that had become his home in the last months, looking through police records from Oregon and northern Washington. He added several to the cast off stack, finding them lacking anything useful. Another thick manila folder was waiting for his attention, so he opened it quickly.
The pictures no longer sent him into a rage only hours in the Danger Room could diminish. Instead, the fueled his obsession like light to kindling. He frowned at one missing persons’ report. Going through the details one generous police chief had highlighted for him, he quickly grabbed a pin from the box on his desk.
The file photo of the victim was placed beside the hundreds of others on a corkboard over his desk. He sat back, looking at the young girl’s sweet smile. All of them, all two hundred and eighty five “ six, he mentally corrected “ had become his life.
His once barren bedroom was littered with filing cabinets and photographs. Sticky notes were put anywhere he could find room, usually tacked next to a crime scene picture or other interesting note. Serial killer profiles were stacked to his left, potential victim folders from Sacramento to Bangkok on the left.
Styrofoam cups with varying levels of coffee inside were strewn over the top of his desk along with fast food wrappers and unwashed dishes.
Every day, he thought of her. Surrounding himself with the particulars of the kidnappings, the victims’ accounts recorded on tape, and photographs only brought him back to her again and again. He ached just to hear her voice or catch a whiff of her telltale scent.
Chuck worried that he was slipping into madness. Hell, maybe he was. That didn’t mean he would stop for even a moment. He was going to find these bastards if he died trying. Unlike whoever was behind this, he had time. Nothing but time and tenacity.
Has anyone ever told you that you have the tenacity of a pit bull?
Her words slipped through his weary mind, making him reach into his back pocket. The single photograph he carried was of her and it never left his side. Not unlike this strange wallpaper, it was just one more thing he had that connected him to her.
Kitty had snapped it sometime during the last night he had seen her. They were dancing to that damn song. He couldn’t hear it now without feeling like someone had kicked him in the gut. While excruciating, it was a memory of her he cherished.
The photograph was fading and the edges were bent from being stuffed into his back pocket. That look on her face…he’d give anything to see it again. One finger came up to trace the line of her profile, her kisses still burning on his lips.
If he had known that would be the last night he had with her, he would have taken her back to the cottage and made love with her properly. The romp in the bar was great and it still got him worked up thinking about it, but it wasn’t the right way to say goodbye. He hadn’t taken enough memory with him.
So often in the last half year he debated returning to Alaska. Mary and Ken frequently invited him out, even promising that they wouldn’t tell Ororo. He knew better, though. With her so close, his resolve would wear down. He’d buckle and run to her, beg her to give him time to prove that wanderlust was a thing of the past.
And if it did bite him again, he’d take her with him. Simple as that.
Why hadn’t he thought of that before? The need to get away didn’t have to be something he endured alone. He could take her with him, travel with the one person he felt would enjoy backpacking through northern Canada.
The thought wasn’t with him that cold morning. It just hadn’t occurred to him until several weeks after arriving in New York. At the time, he thought he was doing what was right. He knew how hard it had been for her to swallow that pride and tell him she wanted him to stay, that she loved him. But his insecurities kicked in. He never wanted to make promises he couldn’t keep.
So he left. His heart stayed in Alaska, with her. Slow, painful torture came over him day after day. Things he should have said or done came back at him. He shouldn’t have tried to replace her, make her jealous. Should have just taken her back to the house, loved her until that beautiful body screamed for mercy. He could have proved to her that he belonged to her alone.
Yes, he wanted her. So bad was this need inside of him, that late at night he would merely stare at the ceiling, reliving every memory of her in his mind. Nothing in the world could prepare him for the pain involved with trying to move on.
Jean’s death he would endure a million times over than live through this one more day. But it had been her choice. He couldn’t unmake it or convince her that being together was the way things should be. She was protecting her heart, he could respect that, even if it nearly killed him.
The phone rang.
As usual, he briefly hoped that it was Ororo on the other end. No matter how he hoped, deep down he knew it was futile. She had made her decision. He had let her. That was how his fairytale was to end.
Life sucked.
“Logan.” He grunted into the phone when he picked it up on the third ring.
“It’s Warren.”
“S’goin’ on, Angelcake?”
Logan rubbed the spot between his eyes. The renovations were complete on the boathouse, but something seemed to need constant repair. Angel was quick on his feet, but neither he nor his beautiful bride knew a socket wrench from a hole in the ground.
“Sorry to bother you, but Betsy wants to know if you would mind leaving the Batcave to have lunch with us.”
He smiled slightly. The Batcave was a term everyone used after Alison wandered into his room one fine day two months ago. She had seen the evidence of his obsession and promptly burst into tears. The blonde told him on no uncertain terms that if he ever fell out of love with Ororo, she was first in line for a shot at him.
Somehow, the idea that he was completely, irredeemably, borderline-psychoticly obsessed with Ororo’s abduction struck her as romantic as hell. He still didn’t understand that girl, but the sentiment was oddly nice.
“Sure,” he answered when his stomach rumbled angrily. “What time?”
There were several mumbled words as Angel conferred with his wife.
“Give us fifteen?”
He heard Betsy giggle.
“Hey!” he said with something between annoyance and amusement. “I smell sex on either of ya an’ I’m coming right back to the Cave.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Angel hung up, but not before Logan caught a feminine squeal. If that girl didn’t turn up pregnant soon, he’d worry about Warren shooting blanks. They were always gearing up for or coming down from some kind of sexual high.
It was annoying. Especially when Logan couldn’t bring himself to attempt a one-night stand.
He tried, he really did, to find some kind of satisfaction with another woman. Trips to Harry’s that ended up in some dingy hotel room seldom ended as well as they used to. Distracted by the lack of humming flesh and Ororo’s cerulean eyes, he usually just apologized and left. That didn’t make the women very happy with him. His reputation was in shreds.
Logan sighed, folding his picture and stuffing it back into his pocket. He should shower before heading to Betsy and Warren’s. Maybe take a minute to clean his cave up. Tired hands ran through his now-long hair before scraping over his beard.
Resigned to putting his work aside for a few hours, Logan straightened up his desk. Files were stacked a little more neatly. Toxic cups of old coffee were tossed into the trashcan along with smelly food wrappers. He was turning into one hell of a slob.
Once everything was picked up in his work area, he stripped the bed down, replacing the sheets with the spare set Betsy gave him as a “just cause” gift. After the bed was made, he rounded up his laundry, tossing it into the old seabag he kept for laundry day.
A quick shower later, he dried his hair with a towel while coming back into the bedroom. Chuck had finally given him his own bathroom, after the third time Peter complained about hair in the drain.
Chuckling quietly at the memory, he paused to look at himself in the mirror. He needed a haircut, but Kitty kept telling him his hair looked good so long. Shaving…well, he didn’t mind the beard so much. The dark circles under his eyes though, those were starting to look bad.
“S’what a woman does,” he muttered to himself. “Can’t sleep cause I reach for her.”
Frowning at himself, he moved into the bedroom. He was just about dressed when someone knocked on the bedroom door.
A quick sniff in the general direction of the door was better than any “peep hole” could ever hope to be. The faint scent of ozone told him it was Alison so he called out for her to enter.
The girl literally fell into the room, slamming the door behind her. To his surprise, she was out of breath and red faced.
“Ali?”
She held up one finger, silently asking for a moment to catch her breath. Logan gave her time, pulling his black t-shirt over his chest and running a comb through his hair. Ali was bent at the waist, gasping for breath.
He noticed, somewhat apprehensively, that she had a thin blue folder in her hands.
“What’s up, kid?”
“I found…something.”
She tossed the file at him, smiling smugly. “That Sinister guy? The one we never found any information on, I think I got him.”
“What?”
The file was caught in mid air, but Logan nearly shredded it in his haste to get it open. He scanned the information quickly.
“Geneticist? Homicidal…” he raised a brow at Alison. “We’ve checked this guy out.”
“Nuh-uh,” she countered, coming over to point at another page. “He’s got like a million aliases.”
“So do I.”
“Ok, but look at this. A friend of mine in customs faxed this to me about ten minutes ago. He’s been trying to get into those sealed files for the last three months.”
Logan looked to where the girl was pointing. Under a diplomatic credential list longer than his arm were the contents of a special “package” shipped from Canada to Los Angeles and then to Australia.
“See that code number?” Ali pointed again.
“Yeah.” Logan grunted, unsure what he was looking at.
“That’s the shipping code for a medical cryogenic freezing chamber. This guy shipped three containers, which can hold up to 100lbs of frozen bio-material from Canada to Australia.”
Logan blinked down at the paperwork. He sat heavily on the bed, flipping through the pages until he found what looked like a profile on the man. Nathaniel Essex was consumed with trying to create the perfect mutant, his funding for genetic research had been pulled from every university center in North America.
“Hank said the only way someone could take all the eggs from those women and keep them viable was in chambers like those. I think we got him, Wolvie.”
He stared. If this was the man that had taken Betsy and Ororo, Logan was going to tear his arms off. It seemed likely, but such information finding him out of the clear blue sky was a little hard to believe.
Still, this couldn’t be ignored. He glanced at the blonde, who was watching him as one would a ticking bomb. She was due in Alaska in the next day or so, he knew that. But there was no way he was leaving her out of this. For some time, she was his only ally.
“Ali?”
“Yeah?”
“Yer gonna miss yer flight.”
She nodded at once. “I already called Mary and told her something came up. I also told Kitty and Hank to suit up. I assume we aren’t telling Xavier, as he’s in Washington and we all know Peter and Bobby can’t keep secrets to save their lives.”
Logan allowed himself to grin at her. “Think Chuck’ll have a fit if we steal the Blackbird?”
Her returning smirk was downright wicked. “Probably, but that’s what makes it fun.”
~**~
20 hours later
The four X-Men, dressed in tourist garb, waited for a contact Hank had in the city while eating ravenously. A downside to taking the Blackbird on such a long trip was the lack of food. The girls were going somewhat crazy over several stores they could see from where they sat, while Logan nursed a beer and Hank tried to educate them all on some of Australia’s more colorful history.
All Logan could think about was violence.
He envisioned a million ways in which to eviscerate the bastard responsible for Ororo’s barren womb. Thoughts and memories warred with the burning bezerker inside of him. Just months ago he had vowed to locate some of Ororo’s hope. At the same time, he entertained ideas of a child with her.
That thought hadn’t struck him until right now. He never thought of babies and homes and all the things normal people want in life. With her, it seemed so simple. She wanted a child and he would move heaven and earth to get that for her.
Why hadn’t he realized that was love right off the bat? Standing in the hospital, watching her sleep and thinking how stubborn her kids would be, he should have just gone into that room.
Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.
A lean, tall man with graying hair walked past the table. Logan smelled fear and tension coming off of him in waves. Hank continued speaking as though nothing had happened, but Logan knew in his bones that this was it.
The man paused, under the pretense of tying his shoe and slipped something under Hank’s chair. Logan glanced to his friend as the man walked away.
“Did you know, Logan, that one of the southern shores of Australia is called ‘Cape Catastrophe’?”
“Nope,” he replied as Hank reached under the table.
It was a small, white, folded piece of paper. Hank cleared his throat, frowning deeply.
“An address,” he spoke lowly, catching the girls’ attention finally. “For a biogenetic lab here in Sydney.”
“In the middle of the city?” Kitty asked, a puzzled look on her face.
“The very best place to hide something is in plain sight, my dear.” Hank supplied quickly.
“But a legitimate lab?” Ali spoke up, glancing around quickly. “That doesn’t seem like his style.”
“We kinda ruined his style,” Logan pointed out, taking the paper from Beast.
“How are we gonna get in?” Kitty questioned.
“For that, I have formulated a plan,” Hank said.
He went on to describe a complicated and illegal means of gaining access badges, security codes, and various other tricks of the proverbial trade. Impressed by the level of thought, Logan listened eagerly. It sounded insane and they were likely to get caught.
“Blue?” Alison finally said wearily.
“Yes, my dear?”
“I’ve got a very simple plan.”
“What’s that, Sparkler?” Logan grinned when she turned to him with a glare.
“I’ve asked you repeatedly to not call me that,” she hissed rudely.
“Yeah, but I don’t care, Sparkler.” His cocky grin earned him a plastic umbrella in the forehead. Kitty howled and Hank was obviously biting back a smile. Logan blew Alison a quick air kiss.
“Children,” Beast cut in gently. “Alison, please tell us your plan.”
She gave Logan another scathing glare, which he answered with a sharp salute with the neck of his bottle. The girl pulled herself together and looked toward Kitty.
“Well, we do know a girl that can walk through walls.”
