Chapter Seventeen: Revelations
I wanna walk and not run
I wanna skip and not fall
I wanna look at the horizon
And not see a building standing tall
I wanna be the only one
For miles and miles
Except for maybe you
And your simple smile
~Dixie Chicks
Sydney, Australia
He moved into the decimated office floor with a passive expression. Clasping his hands behind his back, he surveyed the damage without betraying any emotion. It was, after all, only a matter of time before Xavier and his band of merry mutants discovered what he was up to.
That, of course, was the cause for his abrupt departure in Alaska. It was dismaying to find that the girls carefully disposed of were recovered. More to the point, had that blasted woman not escaped in the first place, he might have had limitless time in which to conduct his work.
Stepping carefully over shredded files and broken glass, he shook his head. That man was going to have to learn to control his temper. Such high levels of stress could affect a person – mutant or not – quite badly. One day, he would take the time to explain this to the reckless Wolverine.
“They downloaded everything,” his companion said before swearing violently.
“Language, my dear Vertigo,” he chided gently. “They know only what was kept here. Our experiments remain safe.”
The silver haired woman sighed dramatically, gesturing to the piles of paper on the floor. “The Wolverine is getting more violent.”
“Yes,” Sinister nodded. “And more dangerous.”
“We couldn’t predict her escape,” Vertigo went on, staring at the destroyed chair. “Or the connection forged between the weather manipulator and he.”
“Oh no,” Essex said with a small, amused smile. “That was quite a surprise.”
They moved together around the offices, inspecting the damage the raging animal had left in his wake. It was really quite amazing, how much damage one man could evoke when one pushed his buttons just right. Just destructive power was fascinating.
“Could you imagine,” Essex asked of his companion as she stared at the hole in her storage area. “What children they would have?”
She tossed him a curious glance. “What are you thinking, Doctor?”
He shrugged, still mulling over the entire ordeal. Kidnapping an X-Woman was not an overly cautious move. But her power was nearly unmatched in the world. Such force of nature was irresistible. Just looking at her DNA was akin to a religious experience for a geneticist.
In his quest, there would be unwilling mothers and fathers. He would create a race of mutants beyond anything the natural world could create on it’s own. Where his predecessors, great men like the now powerless Magneto, had failed he would succeed. They concentrated on subverting adult and adolescent mutants.
Those Sinister created would remain loyal to their father. He would teach them the things Xavier preached against. There would be a reign of mutants over the world, if only he had the time. Patience was running thin, even amongst his followers.
Of the ovum he extracted, there was amazing promise. He needed only to find a suitable male donor to begin his work in earnest. The mutant gene was handed down through the paternal line. The maternal would provide stronger protections, perfect mixture for mutants.
Most of the males he tested were found lacking. For some reason the mutant gene was weaker in a male, as though they were merely carriers. Female genes were stronger, bred more stable strains.
Perhaps he should move his timetable up. Locating a suitable male would be difficult, but not impossible. For the last decade, he had meticulously collected female genes, stockpiling for his future. Males, with their regenerative reproductive system would be much easier to harvest. A male, he thought smugly, could produce viable sperm for eternity.
“We will abandon these offices now,” he told his companion. “The final site is still secure.”
“Yes,” Vertigo agreed. “I would feel better if you surrounded yourself with more security. These offices were vulnerable.”
“Whatever you wish, my dear,” he agreed. “Take Arclight and Prism to New York.”
Her silvery brow rose in question. Sinister reached out to touch her shoulder gently. She would not like this assignment, but her loyalty was indestructible.
“I want you to watch the Wolverine. Get me a thorough report on his mutations.”
“You want him tested?”
“Yes.”
One of her hands came up to touch his, her face filled with grim determination. “It will not be easy, especially if he is still tied to the weather witch.”
“I have no doubt in your ability to get me the information I need.”
Vertigo shot him a quick, sinister smile. She was already calling for her subordinates when she exited the destroyed offices.
Essex clasped his hands behind his back again. He moved with cultured grace toward the Elite area, where Storm’s files had been kept. Peering into the opened cabinet, he shook his head. Yes, that man would need to control his temper. Such high blood pressure was good for no one.
When Riptide came in to check on his leader, Essex waved a hand nonchalantly.
“Burn it.”
The mutant nodded quickly. One day soon, Sinister would have to face off with Xavier’s schoolteachers. He did not yearn for that day. Storm was to be one mother of this new race; killing so strong a mutant would bring him no joy. The woman had, it would seem, looked into the face of Death and come out victorious.
Such strength was not easily destroyed. He would have to kill her, end her crusade before she became uncontrollable. Once Wolverine was in his custody, it would be easy to lead her into a trap. Love made anyone weak.
Deciding he needed a cup of tea, he left the offices quickly. The explosion behind him rocked the city for seven blocks. He merely smiled as it erupted behind him. He still had hope.
His dream was still hidden from Xavier and so it would remain until nothing could stop it.
~**~
Ororo watched out of the Professor’s office window as Andine and Eliar played with Peter and Bobby in the warm sunlight. Both boys had Frisbees in their hands, tossing them for the eagerly waiting Huskies. The dogs chased the flying plastic, barking excitedly only to repeat the process again and again.
Behind her, lounging in various positions on the sofas and chairs were the elder X-Men. They had gathered together the day after Logan’s team returned home. She had spent the morning wrapped in a bubble, or so it felt. Locked in Logan’s bedroom, lying with him as the day woke up outside, nothing seemed insurmountable.
She could feel Logan’s gaze, hard and heavy on her back. While Henry and Logan quickly explained all that had transpired in Australia, she remained silent. The hard part was coming up, something she dreaded.
After several rounds, lying naked in Logan’s arms, he had explained their findings to her. She listened cautiously, noticing how he held her a little tighter. It was shocking to learn that her captors had video taped the ordeal. When he asked if she wanted to watch them, she shook her head mutely.
No, she didn’t want to relive it. Not yet. Logan held her close and soothed her worries away with feather-light kisses. They made plans to go over her files together, once the meeting with Xavier was over.
“Storm?”
Hearing her codename, she turned from the window. Leaning against the wide sill, she gripped the edge and used it as a makeshift seat.
“Yes, Professor?”
“What are your thoughts? Do you have any indication in your memories as to what end Sinister will pursue this?”
She glanced, without really meaning to, at Psylocke. The young telepath met her eyes, an understanding drifting between them.
“I fear I must agree with Henry and Logan,” she said flatly. “Essex is taking great pains to protect the stolen ova. I believe he endeavors to create life or alter it somehow.”
“Your memories of the abduction?”
“Are unreliable,” she replied quickly. “I have only flashes, bits and pieces that fail to make up a cohesive whole.”
“I understand,” Charles said before turning to the others.
“With this information linking Dr. Essex to the abductions, I believe we can safely implicate him. However, because the files and tapes in our possession were stolen, there is little the police can do to help.”
As though he expected the sharp inhalations of breath and unspoken arguments, he held a single hand up.
“That is not to say that we will be ignoring this atrocity,” Charles explained patiently. “Only that we must do so outside of the law.”
“Fine with me,” Logan practically snarled.
“For now, I will say that we must wait. Whatever Sinister’s next move is, we have no idea where he will hide. Henry and I are due in Washington this evening where we will attempt to extract information from contacts there.”
Ororo flashed her big, furry friend a thankful smile. He tenderly blew her a kiss, smiling slightly.
“Storm, would it be an imposition to ask you to remain here in New York, until we know more?”
She looked to Logan. Almost imperceptibly, he shrugged one shoulder; silently telling her it was her choice. They had not talked about where they would live yet, so she shook her head.
“I must contact a few people in Alaska, but I foresee no problem.”
“Thank you,” her mentor smiled quickly. “Hopefully, Henry and I will find something useful in Washington.”
“Logan, Ororo, please let me know of anything useful you may find in the stolen files. Wolverine knows where he can reach me.”
The meeting was adjourned then. Many of the mutants left the room quietly, each going off to take care of whatever chores they had. Alison and Kitty were off to the mall, again, so they waved at Ororo as they left. Henry went to prepare the Blackbird while Betsy and Warren shot one another smoldering looks.
Several seconds later, Ororo and Logan were alone with the Professor.
“Logan?” The Professor said his name quietly as he folded his hands into his lap.
“Ya gonna tell me not ta gut the bastard like a trout, ya got another thing comin’.”
“No,” Charles chuckled softly. “I was going to ask if you were planning on resigning from the X-Men as well.”
Not surprised by the question, Ororo remained where she was at the window. Had he wanted Logan alone, he would have nudged her out of the door. Obviously, this was not something he wanted kept from her.
Logan sat back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and weaving his arms over his chest. He looked to Storm, speaking to Charles while meeting her eyes.
“Dunno yet,” he said honestly. “Ain’t thought about it much.”
“In that case, I will extend Ororo the offer of donning her uniform again,” he said in his dulcet tones. “However, I will harbor no resentment if you both choose to return to Alaska.”
Storm and Wolverine kept their eyes on one another, not betraying anything outwardly. She knew he loved his position as both a teacher and an X-Man, but her heart was no longer in it. She wanted to go back to the Northern Lights, her cottage on the riverbank, where her life made complete sense.
“We’ll think about it,” she answered for both of them. “But, for now, I will need a uniform. I would like to help the X-Men in this particular mission.”
“Of course,” Charles said, a smile in his voice. “Logan will make the arrangements. I have a plane to catch.”
They both bid the X-Men’s benefactor goodbye, not watching as he wheeled out of the room. It occurred to Ororo that just three years ago, Logan had come into this room, not knowing that his life had just changed. She had seen him when she entered with Cyclops, standing as though ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.
“Storm.” He said with a sardonic smile, pointing at her and making a clicking sound with his tongue.
“I was just thinking about that day,” she admitted with a smile.
“I thought ya were hot,” he raised a dark brow.
”Oh,” she put a hand over her heart. “But you only had eyes for Jean.”
His surprise came over that handsome face when she laughed.
“You were all she could talk about,” Ororo went on. “How brash and rude you were. But you got under her skin. I did not understand it until you came to Alaska.”
Because he was still scowling, she hopped down from her perch on the windowsill and moved across the room to him. As though by instinct, he dropped his foot to the ground and opened his arms so she could slide onto his lap.
“Yer not…I dunno, angry bout that?” He questioned when she was settled.
She shook her head.
“Huh.” He grunted. “That’s good.”
“I loved Jean very much,” Ororo explained, nudging his nose with hers. “I had no feelings for you then, so it would be foolish to be angry over something in the past now.”
“I knew I loved ya fer a reason,” he murmured against her mouth. “Though yer downright sexy when yer all jealous an’ shit.”
Scowling at him playfully, she pulled on the hair at his nape, shifting on his lap to get more comfortable.
“That, by the way, was not funny.” Ororo said as primly as she could. “You made me jealous.”
“Uh-huh,” Logan smirked at her, smacking her bottom. “I was goin’ nuts, I wanted ya so bad. Didn’t wanna be lonely that night. The jealousy part was just a bonus.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “I wanted to beat that poor woman senseless.”
“Hey, I’d pay fer that kinda entertainment.”
She laughed against his mouth, wrapping him in her arms so she could hold him. He smiled against her neck, inhaling deeply while his hands flattened against her back. He squeezed her ever so slightly, making her smile.
Their kiss was languid, so slow she thought it would last forever. His tongue explored her mouth thoroughly, so deep and complete that when he finally pulled away she had no secrets left. Dizzy from his attentions, she gave him a lazy smile.
“We gotta get ta work,” he said, not moving as he nipped at her lips.
“Mmm.”
Ororo ran her hands through his hair, lightly tickling his neck with her nails. He shivered, his hands tightening on her back. Logan cleared his throat, leaning up for another kiss.
“Not that I’m in a hurry.”
~**~
There wasn’t anything better. At least, that Logan could think of off hand. Ororo had dragged him out of the Batcave, carrying the bag filled with files and a blanket. She led him out onto the grounds, past the children playing with the unusual comfort of two dogs.
Under a thick willow, his lover spread the blanket and plopped onto it. She beckoned him down so he sat beside her. They dove into their files, occasionally commenting to one another as they marked down tidbits that might prove useful.
It was early evening now. Marie had brought her portable stereo at some point, so Ororo clicked on the country station. Music drifted around them, caught on the warm summer wind that smelled like Storm’s doing.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. She had changed out of the sleep garb she’d worn to Xavier’s meeting into a light blue sundress. It whispered around her calves when she walked, the square neckline and thin straps revealing her slender shoulders. Her hair was down, dancing on the breeze.
Really, it just wasn’t right for something to be so beautiful.
“These medical records are thorough,” she was saying.
Logan, still locked in his staring stupor, did not respond.
“There are references here to childhood visits that I know for a fact I gave an alias for. I wonder how he managed to get them out of Cairo.”
He grunted. “Sinister’s got friends all over.”
She hummed thoughtfully, leaning over her carefully folded legs to mark something on the legal pad in front of her. One of those tiny straps holding her dress up slid down, making Logan tilt his head.
“Logan!”
Her sharp call of his name jolted him out of already forming fantasies that involved her ability to create fog. Anywhere. Looking over at his own personal goddess, he pulled an innocent expression onto his face.
“What?”
Those beautiful lips twitched as though she were fighting a smile. “Are you working?”
“Nope.”
“Then, what are you doing?”
Concentrating on her elegant hands, he didn’t bother raising his eyes to hers. Addicted. He was addicted to her. The touch, taste, look, and smell of her. She encompassed all of his heightened senses in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
“Watchin’ you work.”
Before she could tell him exactly what he could see forming in her mind – likely a telling off that would beat anything before it – Artie bounded up to them. Logan, seeing him coming, scooted into a sitting position from his lounging one. The kid was in a summer school program to rush him through tenth grade, so he often came to a teacher for help.
“Hey, Wolverine.” The boy said breathlessly a beat before he turned to Ororo shyly. “Hi, Storm.”
“Good evening, Artie,” she replied. Logan noted she carefully and quickly covered the crime scene pictures.
“S’up, Art?”
“Got a sec?” he asked quickly, holding out his math book. “I’m stumped.”
“Yer savin’ me from the slave driver,” Logan nodded, motioning for the boy to sit beside him on the blanket. “Hit me.”
Artie held open his book, determinedly not looking in Storm’s direction. Apparently, he was not immune to the stunning beauty. Logan caught his student’s eye and winked, silently saying that it was all right to be a little tongue-tied.
“Well,” Artie began. “It’s my Geometry homework. I have to turn it in tomorrow.”
“Yuck,” Logan pulled a disgusted face for his benefit. “Lets see whatcha got.”
He pulled the book into his lap, glancing at Ororo out of the corner of his eye. She was concentrating on a medical file in front of her, her brow furrowed in thought. Confident that she wouldn’t need his input for a few minutes, he pointed to Artie’s untidy scrawl.
“Now, ya got a big problem here.” He said patiently. “Yer angles are all wrong. Got yer protractor?”
For nearly an hour, Logan explained the complicated Geometry to his student. The boy was easily frustrated, but he soon seemed to grasp the concept. Logan scribbled on a legal pad pilfered from Ororo’s stack. When he was sure there was nothing about the abductions on the papers, he drew out several more problems for his student.
Artie was mastering the intricate system for solving his math homework by the time Kitty called everyone in for dinner. He jumped up from his place on the blanket, thanked Logan profusely and blushed at Storm.
Once he scampered off to the house, Ororo spoke again.
“You are a wonderful teacher.”
Finding he was nearly blushing himself at her honest praise, he cleared his throat. “It’s just math.”
“No,” she countered, shaking her head. “You are patient, understanding, and well spoken. I mean no offense, but I did not think that of you.”
Not particularly offended, he shrugged. “S’just math. I understand it, that’s all.”
“Mmm,” Ororo hummed, looking at him thoughtfully. “As you like.”
There was no sarcasm to her tone, but she was flippant. Nothing he could say was going to change her opinion. Logan stared at her as though she had suddenly grown another head and spouted love poems to Magneto. No person on earth had ever told him he was good at anything other than killing.
Even Hank shied from praising his teaching.
“I think there is something here,” Ororo said, effortlessly getting back on topic. “Though he catalogued my entire DNA sequence, he matched it with others.”
“Huh?” Logan shifted to sit beside her, careful to not breathe too deeply. If he inhaled too much, her scent would distract him.
“Look,” she explained, holding a folder open to him. “That is my DNA.”
“It’s a buncha dots, but I see the pattern.” He told her, squinting at the page.
“Here is another. It is unmarked.” The flimsy sheet was placed over the first. Logan immediately noticed that the pages did not match.
“Maybe it’s another victim’s? Coulda been misfiled.”
But Ororo was shaking her head when he glanced at her. “Logan, this DNA sequence is male.”
“What?”
His voice was a snarl and he yanked the page from her. Several things clicked in his mind and he reached for another set of files. Without explaining himself to her, he tore out several more pages with confusing dots.
“These ones male, too?”
Her bright eyes darted over the strange patterns. “Yes. Each is a separate male.”
“He’s lookin’ fer a match,” Logan said. “Lookin’ fer a match ta you.”
“So he can breed me.”
Snikt!
Ororo dodged his fist easily, as though she had expected it. Six adamantium claws erupted from his skin, the narrow cuts between his knuckles healing almost instantaneously. He wanted to rage, to tear something apart until he exhausted himself.
All of his fears relating to what Sinister’s master plan was were staring him in the face. He felt Ororo snatch the clear pages of DNA maps from his hands, though he smelled not even a hint of fear from her.
“Logan?”
“Gimme a sec.” He was growling, though he hated snapping at her.
She fell silent as he closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. He could feel the relentless beast inside of him screaming for release. Everything in his body wanted blood, the lust for it so strong it was terrifying.
Surprised, he opened his eyes a moment later. Ororo was sitting beside him, one delicate hand raised while a swift eastern wind whipped around them. It circled Logan completely, carrying the scent of her body and mutation. Involuntarily, he inhaled the scent until it was almost a living thing inside of him. The beast grumbled back to its dormant position, allowing the man to retract his claws.
Still, Ororo kept her wind flowing freely.
“I’m ok.” He said at last, his tone more gentle. “Its all right.”
Not questioning him, she slowly lowered her hand, sending that sweet-smelling wind back on its merry way. Logan turned to the woman quickly, pulling her into his lap. Papers and files were crushed between them, but Wolverine scarcely cared.
“That was pretty smart,” he told her quietly. “How’d ya know yer scent would shut it down?”
She shrugged. “My skin brings you comfort, I thought perhaps my scent would as well. Animal behavior 101.” The last was added with a teasing smile.
Logan allowed himself a slightly hollow chuckle. Damn but she could always make him laugh.
He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on her collarbone. She was humming, as usual, the feel of it acting like a tranquilizer. His breathing almost instantly regulated.
“Scares me,” Logan admitted, his voice muffled by her flesh. “That someone hurt ya so bad. Makes it uncontrollable.”
Ororo did not ask what he was referring to. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“It frightens me as well,” her soft reply was whispered in his ear. “This evil is continuing, trying to create the perfect mutant. I fear what my blood might create.”
Rough hands found her cheeks, pulling her back until he could meet her eyes. She was open to him, letting him see everything inside her. Raw, naked that way, he barely breathed. Nothing would come between him and this woman again. If he had to charge into hell and fight the devil himself, he would do so gladly.
“Ain’t no one makin’ evil out of ya, darlin’,” he promised. “Not so long as I’m here.”
Her smile was content, lazy. “You do say the nicest things.”
Logan swatted her bottom. Dusk was falling around them, taking the light while stars peeked out from behind the curtain of night. They looked up, as though realizing it at the same moment. He frowned, however, when part of him expected the seductive swirl of Northern Lights.
“I wanna go home,” he said quietly, not truly realizing he had spoken until she shifted against him.
“You are home, Logan,” Ororo countered softly.
“No,” he shook his head, looking down into her eyes again. “I want the wild, the Lights.”
Hope sprang into those cerulean eyes, though he could tell she was trying to hide it.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” A smile crept over his lips. “Once Sinister’s history, I say we go back to Alaska. Ya know Mary can’t plan her weddin’ without ya.”
Unpainted lips parted, as though to agree, but she halted. Scowling, though Logan was bewildered as to why, she put her hands on her hips. The change in balance almost sent her into a heap on the blanket, but Logan quickly shifted his hands on her back to support her. He noted, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she trusted him to catch her.
“How did you know Mary and Kenny are getting married?”
Busted. Logan cleared his throat. “Well…I mighta gotten a call from Ken coupla weeks back. He mighta asked me how ta go about it. I mighta given him some pointers.”
Ororo’s scowl vanished in a heartbeat. “You told him to do what felt natural, to just wait for the right moment.”
It was Logan’s turn to be confused. “How’d ya know that?”
She laughed. “I will tell you later.”
~**~
“MARIE!”
Kitty and Alison bolted into the rec room, where Rouge was leaning over the billiard table. Bobby and Peter looked surprised when both young women pushed past them. They were squealing, for some reason, and grabbing at Marie’s hands so that she dropped the pool cue onto the felt with an undignified clatter.
“What?” The Southern former-mutant was blinking in shock.
“You have got to see this. You’re gonna DIE!” Ali said as they tugged the girl from the room.
Curiosity got the better of the boys and they followed quickly.
Kitty, who could not seem to form a coherent sentence, led the strange group out of the mansion. They raced across the lawn, heeding Dazzler’s hushed whispered to stay as quiet as they could. It was dark out, well past dinner, as they rounded the pool and crept toward the large willow on the end of the property.
Three girls crouched behind one tree while the boys hid behind another.
“Look!” Kitty whispered girlishly.
Marie and the two boys peered around their hiding spots, straining to see in the darkness. A slow, romantic song was drifting on the cool breeze. Marie recognized it from the compilation compact disc she had left in her player when Logan asked to borrow it.
Her breath caught in her throat when she noted two figures swaying softly at the tree line. Logan was holding Storm close, his left hand keeping her right against his chest. The white haired mutant’s free arm was around his shoulder, her fingers tracing the line of his beard.
For his part, Logan’s other hand rested innocently on the woman’s back, keeping her flush against him as they danced barefoot on the grass. Her head rested on his shoulder, his chin in the crook of her neck.
Marie felt tears sting her eyes, even as Bobby and Peter groaned in dismay. It was so romantic, so simply sweet that it was like something out of the movies. She began to hum the song without thinking about it, making Alison and Kitty look at her.
She mouthed the words so they would understand the soft music.
“She’s the sunset shadows. She’s like Rembrandt’s light. She’s the history that’s made at night. She’s my lost companion. She’s my dreamin’ tree, together in this brief eternity. Summer days, winter snow. She’s all things to behold. She’s my kinda rain. Like love from a drunken sky.”
Alison and Kitty were in floods. Their faces wet with dramatic tears. Marie feared they would all swoon, especially when all eyes turned back to the couple dancing in the dark. Logan was tucking a lock of Storm’s hair away. Her answering smile could have lit up the night.
As though they all realized they were intruding on something best left private, all three girls backed away quickly. They made little noise, hoping to not distract the couple from what teenage females considered the holy grail of romance.
Peter and Bobby, however, just looked confused. The instant the five-some was inside the mansion, Bobby spoke up.
“Ok, I don’t get it.”
“I agree. Why were you three crying?” Peter chimed in.
The first answer they got was all three women sighing in dismay. Marie elected herself spokesperson, on behalf of women everywhere.
“You two should take notes.” She said haughtily. “That right there was the ultimate in romance.”
The shorter of the two male mutants threw his hands up. “Why?”
“When ya grow up, maybe ya’ll figure it out.”
Marie huffed and stomped away, quickly followed by her two female compatriots. Both boys received dirty looks as the girls headed upstairs. Bewildered, Bobby and Peter merely shrugged.
“There goes Wolverine again, always making us look bad.”
They decided a game of Grand Theft Auto was in order and spared not another thought to the couple alone outdoors.
