Chapter Five: Healing
Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through
Somebody save me
I don’t care how you do it
Just stay, stay
I’ve made this whole world shine for you
~Remy Zero
Fairbanks Memorial Hospital
One Week Later
She stood in the hospital room alone for the first time since her rampage. In her hands was the damning evidence of her ordeal, her loss. Though it still seemed unreal on some level, here was the proof.
Looking through the strange, almost alien X-Rays she could see everything the doctors had explained over and over again. Words like “sorry” and “irreversible” had become hated parts of her vocabulary over the last few days. Though everyone knew how this had been done to her, the theft could not be explained.
No one knew why she had been taken nor why her captors had so ruthlessly stolen away the only thing she ever wanted for herself. Never would she bring life into the world. She would not have the chance to feel something living inside her, hear the beating heart of a brand new person. Her womb was cold and empty and so it would remain.
Tears no longer came to her as she looked at the pages condemning her to childlessness. Instead there was deep sorrow and penetrating rage. Someone had deliberately done this to her. She would find that person and demand they be brought to justice.
She dreamt now of little white haired daughters with shining blue eyes. Little girls that called her “Mother”. In these dreams, she held their tiny, innocent hands and smiled with all the love a mother could hold in her heart. But her moments of peace were shattered when she woke, knowing her dreams would remain fantasy.
Setting the X-Rays down, Ororo reached for a small evidence bag left by one of the policemen investigating her case. Inside of the clear plastic bag was the hospital bracelet Logan had found on her the night she returned. On it, in plain type from what looked to be a typewriter, was an identification number, her name, and a type. What it meant was a mystery. Ororo ran her thumb over the plastic, letting her eyes drift up to stare at the wall.
So much was unanswered. Her emotions were now in check, after Mary’s panicked claim that there was flooding. In Alaska. In mid-winter. Logan had given her a bemused smile as she tried to reign in the impulse to simply let the heavens weep. He told her that she kept everything too tight, she needed to let the emotions out or they’d eat her up.
She called him Dr. Feral.
As if her thoughts had been some sort of silent beacon, the hospital room door opened quietly. Wolverine poked his head into the room, though she could only see him out of the corner of her eye.
“Storm?”
“Here.” The reply was soft, a tone she only used when he was around. Somehow, she knew that he completely understood her mental turmoil, perhaps better than anyone in the world. Her guard was down whenever they were alone.
“Hey.” He came fully into the room, letting the door close behind him. “Nice ta see you’re in some real clothes, kid.”
Though Mary had an early shift at the lodge, she’d come by to help Ororo prepare for her trip home. She’d insisted Ororo don a pair of worn jeans and a thick cable-knit sweater. Her hair was finally free of tangles, lying in a fat braid that reached her waist.
It felt wonderful, wearing clothing, applying makeup and pulling on sturdy boots. She felt almost human again.
Almost.
“Mary was here.” She said without turning her eyes from the wall.
“I can smell that,” Logan replied.
He was moving behind her. She heard the soft thud of his boots on the clean tile. It always amazed her how silent he moved, though he was a broad man. The rustle of cloth told her he had sat on the edge of her hospital bed. Fine hairs on the back of her neck alerted her to his weighted stare.
“I am all right,” she said in that same detached, quiet tone. “Thinking.”
“Ya do too much of that, ya know,” came the rough reply.
“So you tell me,” Ororo countered. “Often.”
“You all packed?” He continued, easily changing the subject.
“Mmm,” she hummed in the affirmative.
Soft, telling noises said he was moving about the room now. The zipper of her overnight bag was pulled, drawers opened to ensure she had not forgotten anything. She heard him set the bag on the small table beside her, his presence warm, comforting.
It did not startle her when his hands found her shoulders. She didn’t bother resisting the urge to reach for his hand, squeezing those hairy fingers gently. They stood in silence for several minutes while her gaze dropped to the items in her hands.
“A broken heart won’t kill ya,” his gruff whisper was near her ear. “If it could, we’d both be six feet under.”
When she didn’t reply, he went on.
“They can take yer heart, yer hope, yer dreams, ‘Ro but that don’t change who ya are.” His hands squeezed her shoulders. “You’ll get through it, darlin’. I’ll be here, long as ya want.”
“No,” she said, voicing her wishes for the first time. “I want you to go home, Wolverine.”
“Nuh-uh,” he responded without missing a beat.
“I want to be alone.” She inflected more demand into her tone.
“That’s the last thing ya need,” Logan said, holding her shoulders more firmly. “You’ll need help findin’ the bastards that did this.”
“This is my fight,” she tried again. “Your place is in New York.”
Slowly, his insistent hands turned her to face him. She dropped the X-Rays and evidence bag on the counter in front of her as she was turned. Her eyes met the dark depths of his, seeing the determination and compassion reflected there.
“Yer wrong,” he shook his head slightly. “Ya called fer me, girl. I came. Ya still need help. What kinda X-Man would I be if I left ya swinging?”
Unable to help herself, she smiled slightly. “Wolverine, you are already a better X-Man than I am. Go home, be with Henry and the children. The X-Men owe me nothing.”
He released her shoulders and reached around her body to grab the overnight bag. When he had it in hand, he met her gaze again.
“What if it ain’t about what someone owes ya?” He questioned in that low growl. “What if it’s about justice?”
Unfortunately, Ororo had no answer for that. She merely continued staring at him, mildly surprised that she was once again thrown by this man she barely knew. In the months following the death of her family, she’d retreated into herself. No one seemed bothered by her swift decent, though she had often caught Logan giving her strange looks.
Here he was now, in the middle of Alaska, telling her that he wanted justice. For her.
“I don’t do nothin’ I don’t want to,” he finished. “Keep that in mind, darlin’.”
Ororo could only nod wordlessly. He nodded toward the hospital room door, taking a few steps to open it for her.
“Let’s get ya checked out, eh?”
~**~
Coming home was usually something very joyous. As Logan drove through the middle of the tiny village she called home, Ororo could only ponder at what her reaction would be. So much pain had come to her after the shocking events the last time she was home, how would be respond to being there again?
She idly wondered, while staring out of the window of Wolverine’s rented Explorer, if anyone had bothered to clean it up. The police did not typically clean their crime scenes. The thought was sobering. Her home was a “crime scene”.
Glancing to the driver, she hid a smile by sheer force of will as Logan began to softly sing along with some country tune on the radio. Propping her elbow on the slender edge of the door, she covered her mouth with her hand.
Logan, of course, noticed this almost immediately. She had thought he would scowl and cease his singing. She was wrong.
As though he were amused that she was amused, he reached over and turned the radio up several notches. His vocals, of course, had to rise to match the stereo. Ororo watched in wide-eyed shock as he sang at the top of his lungs, beating the steering wheel in time with the music.
“When the sheriff arrived with his bathrobe on, the confrontation was a tense one! He shook his head and said “Bubba m’boy, you was always a dense one!” Reckless discharge of a gun, that’s what the officer’s are claimin’! Bubba holler’d out “Reckless, hell! I hit just where I was aimin’!”
Ororo snorted, trying to control her laughter as he continued.
“Bubba shot the jukebox last night. Said it played sad song, it made him cry. Went to his truck and got a .45. Well, he shot the jukebox. Stopped it with one shot.”
As he went on singing, word for word this strange song about someone shooting a jukebox, Ororo found herself laughing. A moment later, she began to hum along with the music, bobbing her head and tapping the rhythm on her denim-clad knee.
Laughter felt amazing. A piece of her fleeting humanity seemed to slip back into place. Logan was insanely entertaining this way. He kept up the loud singing, which was not very hard on her ears, if she was honest about it.
When the song ended, she was still caught by her small fit of giggles. Logan winked at her, leaning on the driver’s side door. He glanced at her, giving her one of those sexy, lopsided smirks.
Had she just referred to Wolverine as “sexy”?
“Yer kinda cute when ya do that.”
His words brought her sharply from the road to madness her inward thoughts were taking. She raised a brow in his direction.
“When I do what?”
“Laugh.” His grunt preceded the wheel of the truck turning softly, leading them onto the road that ended at her home.
“I have often laughed, Wolverine,” she defended immediately, no longer dwelling on thoughts of home.
“When?” he scoffed. “I’ve never seen ya do it.”
Huffing in mild annoyance, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Perhaps I have never laughed around you because you are not humorous.”
“Bullshit!” He laughed heartily. “I had ya in stitches just now.”
Unable to resist, she pulled a falsely innocent look onto her face. “You were not serious?”
Logan’s face turned from the road to give her a look of wide-eyed mouth-agape shock. Ororo held the innocence on her features for all of ten seconds. A loud, belly-clutching laugh escaped her a moment later, making Logan scowl at her.
“Yer mean.”
That, of course, only made her laugh harder.
~**~
When they arrived at her cottage a moment later, Ororo was still shaking with laughter. Logan watched her curiously as he hopped out of the truck. She eased out of the passenger side, turning into squeals of laughter as her dogs descended on her. He had left them tethered to a run while he was gone, letting them roam inside the heated garage and out in the bitter cold.
After taking Ororo’s bag from the backseat of the Explorer, he came around the truck to see her rolling in the snow with her beloved dogs. Both Andine and Eliar were to the point of peeing in the snow. They barked merrily, playfully nipping at their mistress and rolling with her on the frigid ground.
He leaned against the truck, letting a small smile cover his face. She was kind of cute when she let go. Laughing, rolling with dogs in the dirty snow was not something he expected of the very serious mutant. Even in the dim light from the outdoor motion sensors, he could see the wide smile on her face surrounded by flushed cheeks.
In a week, he had rarely left her side. If he was not at the hospital, for whatever reason, she was with Mary and the policemen that guarded her room. They were still unsure whether or not Ororo had escaped her captors or been let loose. If she had escaped, chances were that the bastards would try to take her again.
The standing order had been that no one was allowed inside of Ororo’s room without Logan’s express permission. She seemed content with this, knowing that he would let no one harm her. He didn’t know why she was so comfortable with someone she barely knew, but it made his job easier.
He was going to cover her and she’d need a lot of it during the next few weeks. Hank and Chuck had already told him to stay in Alaska. Logan had intended to, but having permission from the school made things easier.
Logan winced inwardly, thinking of Chuck. He still had not told Ororo that her father --for all intents and purposes -- was alive and well. How did you tell someone that? Charles’ death was one reason she had come to Bum Fuck Alaska to be alone. How badly would it hurt her to know that some of her pain was unwarranted?
The more Logan thought about it in those terms, the angrier he became with the Professor. As fragile as this woman was now, he wanted to ensure nothing hurt her for a while. Period. After he found the bastards that had hurt her, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Violence, pain, and blood were all likely suspects, though.
Part of him thought forcing her to return to New York where he could keep an eye on her was the best option, though where the impulse came from was a mystery. He was the Wolverine, for hell’s sake. He didn’t need any more obligations holding him back.
Logan had the sudden mental image of Jean slapping him as hard as she could for even thinking that Storm was an obligation.
“Done yet?” he called to the woman romping with her dogs. “Those monsters need some food an’ I’ve gotta get back to the lodge at some point.”
Ororo stood, Eliar panting happily as she scratched behind his ears while Andine sniffed her “mommy”. “The Lodge?”
“Yeah, that’s where I’m stayin’. I can have the Sheriff send a car out ta watch the place. I don’t like leavin’ ya all alone out here.”
She fell silent for a moment, then disengaged from her Huskies to walk over to him. Both pups gave him a reproachful look from behind Storm, as they remained tethered to their run.
“I would feel better if you stayed here,” Storm said as she tossed her braid back over her shoulder. “If you do not mind.”
The moral part of Wolverine’s brain leapt into action. Like a little angel version of him popped onto his shoulder, he clearly heard his mind telling him it wasn’t a good idea. Man. Woman. Alone. Things tended to happen even among people that barely knew one another. She was weak, vulnerable. This wasn’t a good idea.
Of course, there can be no angel without the devil, and that side was quick to make his appearance. In his other ear, Logan heard the other arguments. She was weak and vulnerable out here alone. He had to protect her. Didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, sweet, and her house was just the sort of place he liked.
As he met her gaze with questioning eyes, he saw that same mental image of her alone against the men invading her home. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t leave her out here without protection.
“Yeah, I’ll stay.”
The words left his mouth before his angel or devil could continue. He looked up into the blue-black sky, watching as the Northern Lights snaked through that inky darkness. They were singing to him again, a whispered promise that he couldn’t understand.
All Logan knew was that something would happen in this cottage. Whether good or bad, he wasn’t sure. Something was here though, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Unnerved by this, he followed Ororo and the dogs into the house.
~**~
She was awake long after she heard Logan’s soft snoring from the living room. Eliar and Andine were sharing her bed, but she managed to slip out before either of them woke. It was still dark, but it always was this time of year.
Her clock read a little after three in the morning. Pulling on a thin satin bathrobe, she moved through her open bedroom door and crept into the living room. Logan’s form had sunk into the squashy sofa she’d purchased some time ago. Smiling at him, she tiptoed closer. Taking the blanket he’d kicked off at some point, she covered him again. Kneeling beside the sofa, she ensured he was covered, then moved toward the fireplace.
Careful to be quiet, Ororo rekindled the fire. Once it was crackling well, she stood again, brushing the soot from her hands. The twinkle of her Northern Lights brought her attention to the tall window beside the fireplace.
Standing before the window, she stared out into the night. She loved this part of the world. The changing lights, the wild of nature pressing in on all sides. With an involuntary shiver, Ororo drew her robe more closely around her.
In the shadows of the trees, she could see the lights making darkness dance. Her fearful mind kept seeing men in dark uniforms creeping toward the house. She glanced over her shoulder to be absolutely sure Logan was there. Should anything happen, he would be here to give her aid this time.
When she had calmed her frayed nerves, her hands drifted down to her flat belly. She idly wondered if she would ever rid herself of the violated, robbed feeling. Something told her she never would, that it would follow her to the grave. Logan gave her a brief reprieve when he was awake.
She smiled softly, thinking of his rather silly performance in the truck. Watching him sing was a pleasure she hoped to indulge in again. It was something out of a television show, but he had made her laugh. So few people could claim that simple luxury. He had been right earlier, she did not laugh often.
A soft groan behind her made her turn from the window. Logan’s handsome face was twisted into a grimace. Her brow furrowed and she took a step toward him, knowing what kind of terror his nightmares could bring. He soothed himself though, turning over on the sofa.
Storm turned her eyes back to the Lights, watching them play together in the dark sky.
Thoughts were her enemy lately. She dwelled on the abduction, on reasons for her suddenly infertile womb. One scenario frightened her, though it was plausible. She thought, perhaps, someone was collecting ovum from mutant females. Perhaps sperm as well. Could someone be attempting to breed mutants?
Magneto fluttered briefly through her mind, but she dismissed it. He was left powerless after the events of Alcatraz. Logan would likely think her thoughts were morbid and unlikely, but the more she thought on it, the more it became belief. Someone was out there, right now, trying to create mutants. She could have biological children soon if this was not stopped.
Running a hand through her hair, she closed her eyes briefly. Her home did not feel as vulnerable as she had thought. Logan’s presence certainly helped that. Still, she moved away from the window to relock all of the windows and doors.
She was being completely paranoid. Though she knew it was crazy, she could not stop herself.
Another pained groan came from the sofa. Ororo checked the lock one final time, then moved toward Logan’s restless form. He was fighting in his blanket, his face screwed into an expression of pain and fear.
Through the unintelligible grunts and whimpers, she heard him chant “No” until it no longer sounded like a word. She debated for a moment, wondering whether she should wake him or not. When he groaned again, she decided that she could not watch him endure this alone and dropped to her knees.
Shaking his shoulder, she called his name in a soothing tone. He did not wake, but he leaned into her touch. She wiped at his sweaty brow with the sleeve of her nightshirt, trying to infuse her touch with comfort. Shushing him gently, she sat back on her feet, letting her head fall onto his bare chest.
While she listened to his heartbeat slow, she wondered what she had done to soothe him. His breathing regulated, one of his hands coming to rest on her head.
“She buzzes,” he muttered suddenly.
Turning her head to look up at him, Ororo frowned. “Who? What are you talking about?”
It was clear that he was still asleep, talking as though she were in his dreams, perhaps as someone else.
“”Ro, she buzzes. Hums. Like it.”
Confused, Ororo raised her head. Staring at her hand, she recalled a conversation years past with her dear friend Hank. He had told her that her body conducted electricity similar to lightning and that one could feel it moving just under her skin. This “buzz” often made her friend jump, but Logan seemed to find it soothing.
When his nightmare seemed to take him again, Ororo thought fast. He had given her so much comfort, she felt the need to return the favor. Shrugging out of her bathrobe, she pushed up the sleeves of her shirt. Kneeling up slightly, she placed both of her bare arms on Logan’s chest, gently stroking his face with her fingers.
“Mmm,” he hummed happily a moment later. “She buzzes.”
It was difficult to fight the urge to giggle as he sleepily commented on a strange side effect to her mutation. She did so, if only to keep him asleep a while longer. Sleep would evade her tonight, that was already certain. So, she took a pillow from the other sofa and sat more comfortably, keeping her arms and hands on Logan’s bare flesh.
This simple, soothing action kept his night terror at bay and allowed her to think of something other than dancing shadows. Logan leaned into her touch again and again, as an addict looking for another hit. She was slightly vain about this unexpected power. Logan’s nightmares were the stuff of legend among the X-Men, but all she needed was to touch his bare flesh with hers to soothe them away.
She kept at this for hours, until just before he should wake. Without leaving a hint that she had been there, Ororo slipped back into her bedroom. At least her sentinel had received a night nearly free of bad dreams. That, she thought, was a start.
~**~
When Logan awoke, he could smell nothing but the rain. He surrounded him, drowning out anxiety and remnants of nightmares he could never clearly recall. Reaching around himself, his hand brushed something silky. He fisted his hand in it, not bothering to open his eyes. The garment was brought to his face, where he inhaled more of that clean scent.
How long had it been since he’d slept so soundly? Opening his eyes with a yawn, he left the silken robe on his face as he stretched. He felt fantastic, rested, but less than alert.
It was several minutes before he gathered enough wits to sit up. Rubbing his face and scratching his head, he looked blearily around him. Ororo was not in the room, but he was saturated in her scent. For a moment, it worried him. He felt marked in an odd way. But her scent was pleasantly numbing, so the feeling left swiftly.
With a growling yawn, Logan kicked his blankets off and stood. Another bone-cracking stretch and he felt a little more awake. There was a cup of coffee on the coffee table, which made him smile. She was obviously awake.
Panic gripped him as his hand closed over the cup. It was stone cold.
“Storm?”
Completely alert now, he rushed into the bedroom. Her bed was made, the dogs nowhere to be found. After ensuring she wasn’t in the bathroom, he bolted for the kitchen.
There were signs that someone had made breakfast. Dishes were washed and carefully stowed away. He smelled food coming from the oven and surmised that his missing friend had left his meal inside to stay warm.
“Ororo!”
No answer.
“Son of bitch,” he snarled to himself, running a hand through his hair. “No way they got her. No fuckin’ way!”
Beyond reason and panic now, Logan rushed back into the living room. He tripped over his boots, swearing violently as he crashed into the floor. He punched the hardwood in annoyance, then stood to locate his shirt.
In seconds, he’d pulled on a flannel shirt and boots, not bothering to button or tie. Logan made his way to the front door, swinging it open and pausing to take in his surroundings.
It was light, which surprised him. He usually slept through the few daylight hours, when he managed to get good and asleep. Blinking in the harsh light, which reflected off of the pure white snow, he raised his voice to a healthy bellow.
“STORM!”
Only the caw of some predatory bird and the echo of his own voice ricocheting off the massive mountains answered him.
Logan knew himself well. His knuckled itched, his brain spun…he was about ten seconds from completely losing his cool. He had to find her. He had promised she would be safe, if only to himself. Nothing could happen to her.
Taking off at a dead run, he circled the house, calling her name again and again. The rational side of him said there was no sign of a struggle and the dogs were not going apeshit nearby. They had to be close. The irrational side was ready to take the mountains and woods apart stone by stone while snarling in rage.
Sharp eyes noted a set of canine footprints running from the back steps toward the woods. Another set were right beside it, followed by what looked like sled marks. Still close to panicking, Logan jogged in the direction of the tracks.
A beat later, not five yards from the house, he heard a sled bell. A dog barked.
Crouching low, Logan concentrated on his hearing. The sled was making scraping noises on the fresh snow, flanked by swift paws and that annoying bell. But they were coming from upwind, no scents were coming his way.
Snikt!
His claws tore through his hands as he darted behind a nearby tree. He had to ensure it was her and that she was alone. Rage, blindingly hot, filtered through his previous panic. He was going to beat the hell out of her for scaring him so badly.
Several sharp commands in what sounded like a foreign tongue reached his ears as the sound of the sled came closer. Logan peered around the trunk of the enormous tree to see Andine and Eliar hauling the sled he had seen propped up on the back porch over a week before. A heartbeat later, the slender form of a woman slid past on the back of the sled.
For a moment, Logan was distracted by the fact that she wasn’t wearing a coat. It had to be below freezing out here. Shrugging that off, he leapt from behind the tree, directly at the sled.
He came face to face with the barrel of a rifle.
“Logan!” Ororo said with a screech. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”
Surprised that she had been prepared for his assault, he retracted his claws and held his hands up. With a glare in her direction, he noted the dogs had come to a stop several yards away. Ororo had jumped from the sled.
“S’only fair,” he countered. “Ya took ten years off my life when I woke up. Where the fuck were ya?”
She had the grace to look somewhat ashamed as she lowered the barrel of her rifle.
“I noticed I was out of fresh meat.”
As if on cue, the bloody scent of a fresh kill wafted toward him from the halted sled. Mouth watering at the nearly forgotten scent, he felt his eyes widen with pleased surprise.
“What’d ya bag?”
“Moose,” she gave him a smile, turning to jog toward the sled. “A buck, at that.”
He followed her quickly, anger forgotten in the wake of fresh meat. She was smiling as she shouldered the rifle, pulling back the tarp covering her prize. Logan groaned, licking his lips in anticipation when he spotted the meaty form lying passively on the sled.
“I didn’t know you hunted,” he said quietly, helping her tuck the tarp back in.
“Mmm,” she nodded. “Out here, it is a necessity.”
“Doesn’t go against yer nature?” He questioned as she indicated for him to sit on the sled. “Hey, ya know I weigh like 300 pounds with all this metal, right?”
“To answer your second question, it is less than fifty yards to the house, the dogs will be fine,” she said as she ordered the dogs to move while pushing the sled expertly. “As for the first, of course not. I eat what I kill. It is part of the balance.”
“Huh,” Logan nodded. “Makes sense.”
He fell silent then, letting the dogs lead them back to the house over the fresh snowfall. He let out a whoop of pleasure when Ororo sharply turned the sled. The dogs seemed unwilling to stop, so they circled the house. Storm let her beloved Huskies loose.
The speed was insane, knowing the sled was run by dog-power alone. He clutched the sides, watching as the beauty of the wild zipped around them. He was laughing when Ororo sent the dogs another sharp command, taking the sled into a MAC 10 figure eight.
She slowed the sled several minutes later, outside of her heated garage. Logan leapt from the sled, shaking his head as his good mood returned swiftly. That same, lazy, half-alert feeling was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Everything was calm here, serene.
“Ahh,” Ororo said sagely as she shook snow from her hair. “Now you understand why I came here and could not leave.”
Logan eerily mimicked the dogs as he shook snow from his own body. He watched as Ororo effortlessly untied the dogs, ordering them with a snap of her fingers to eat and drink. She looked at home here, in the wild with her dogs. For the first time in his life, Logan was jealous of someone for their entire lifestyle.
“It’s…” he paused, searching for a word. “Serene. Peaceful.”
“Exactly,” she said with a grin.
They took the moose from the sled together, lying it gently on a nearby table. From the smell of it, Logan understood that this is where she skinned and cleaned her kills.
“I dunno, ‘Ro,” he teased, using the nickname he’d selected for her. “Ya might end up with a permanent houseguest.”
Her eyes were serious as she came around the cutting block. “My dogs and I may not mind that. Depending.”
Raising a brow at her words, he gave her a small grin, leaning on the moose corpse nonchalantly. “Depending on?”
“Well, you must be house broken, for starters,” she teased back, bolting for the house door with a merry laugh.
Logan shook his head, laughing as well before he chased her into the cottage.
