I gave you a ring
And I promised you things
I always thought we'd do
But my best laid plans
Slipped right through my hands
-Travis Tritt
Some years past...
There was a sad eyed boy waiting in the hallway when her first class let out. Though she was informed yesterday of another potenial student coming this morning, she had let it slip her mind.
Something about the dark haired youth tugged at the heartstrings. He sat, alone, looking as though someone had just run over his dog. She crept closer, idly setting her thick stack of paperwork on the hallway table. He seemed so lost, so weary of being alone in this world. Everything in her body wanted to reach across the divide, to bring him back to the world he seemed without.
"Hello," she greeted quietly. "Are you Peter?"
His soulful eyes met hers slowly. "Da."
"I'm Ororo." the white-cropped teacher smiled, holding her hand out to him. "But some call me Storm."
The boy named Peter seemed intrigued by this. "Why do they call you that?"
Storm shrugged one slender shoulder. "Because I control the weather."
His eyes lit up like Christmas lights. Ororo could see he was starving for understanding, for someone to love him no matter what. She reached for him without even thinking about it. In him, she saw herself so many years ago. Tired, unsure, and all but abandoned in a world that would never understand her. Charles had reached for her hand, offering a home and family unlike any in the world. She resisted him, for a time, but his lure was soon undeniable. Her family was now the X-Men, come what may.
Peter, however, shied from her touch. Not willing to frighten him off already, she took an unconcious step back.
"I apologise," he said quickly. "I do not wish to hurt you."
Though she knew better than to flinch, Ororo's guard went up just a little. It was only prudent that when a young, uncontrolled mutant warned one listened. The effect of an uncontrolled mutation could be devastating, especially to a young man already so wounded.
"Don't worry," she replied. "What's your gift?"
"My gift?" His reply oozed bitterness. "Tis not a gift, but a curse."
Alarmed, Ororo shook her head. "Perhaps. But only because you have not yet mastered it."
His sad eyes turned away sharply.
"Please," Storm plead, desperate to reach him. "Tell me."
"They call me Colossus," he whispered after a time. "And for good reason."
A sharp, teeth-grating crunch of metal on metal shot through the room. Ororo's eyes widened with astonishment as the young man sitting so fornlornly stood to his massive full height. His peaches-and-cream skin suddenly converted into what looked like the strongest steel. He flexed gigantic arms, somehow managing to look demure as he glanced down at his would be teacher.
"I am a monster."
The voice, slightly altered with it's owner's changed appearance, was still sad. Ororo, now completely unafraid, reached for one metallic arm. He seemed surprised when she touched him, but a smile played around the edges of his handsome mouth.
"No," Ororo grinned. "You are far from a monster. I can teach you so much, Peter."
Hope, which seemed alien to her young charge, sprang forth in those dark eyes. "But my strength...I have hurt so many."
"No longer," Storm assured. "I can teach you to touch softer than a butterfly's kiss."
"How?"
Ororo tugged on his arm. "Come with me and we'll get started."
***
Some years later...
She spotted him peeking through the curtain, looking like a curious schoolboy. She knew every inch of him, knew how his body reacted to his emotions. While to others he was as stoic and emotionless as ever, Ororo could read her young friend like an open book.
Nerves made him shift the weight from one foot to the other. This was, after all, the first time he'd done anything for an audience that was not housed in Xavier's mansion. It was only at Charles' urgings that she even broached the topic three months ago. She and Peter had been preparing for such a day for years, but his shyness was an obstacle to overcome yet.
"Worried?"
Her voice startled him. With a yelp of surprise, Peter jumped at least a full twelve inches into the air, spinning as he did so. The black and gold of his costume would have seemed gaudy had they been anywhere else. But here, among like-dressed people, Peter could wear form-fitting pants and be completely comfortable.
"YOU!" He accused as Ororo fought laughter. "You frightened me."
"I could not help it," Storm apologised.
Though Peter glared at her, there was no real malice in the gaze. He sighed, a long-suffering sigh, and turned his attention to her costume. Ororo adored the black dress, complete with gold trim and a train attached to her wrist. The style left much of her back bare, showing off a toned figure she knew she could be proud of. She fussed over Peter's collar as they prepared to hit the floor. In mere seconds, her friend would be exposed to a large crowd. She could only hope his nerves held out.
Before either of them could speak, a young woman in an evening gown with a walkie talkie in her hand rushed over.
"You're next, get ready."
As she bustled away again, Ororo took Peter's hands. Their eyes met, as they did so often. Gone was her lonely young mutant in desperate need of affection. In his place was a handsome, solid man with more to cherish in his life than he knew what to do with.
Here, however, they were just Ororo and Peter. Not mutants, not student or teacher...just the two of them.
As their names were called, Peter spun Ororo through the curtain and onto the dance floor.
***
Here and Now...
This couldn't be happening.
This didn't happen to her. No. It wasn't right. She didn't deserve this. Hadn't she lost enough? Hadn't the Fates tortured her enough?
Though the weather outside was perfectly clear, inside she could feel the storm brewing. Five people sat around the polished cherry table, which the windows reflected sunlight onto the shiny surface. Ororo heard none of what they were saying. She stared with unseeing eyes at the papers before her. It seemed as if nothing was right. So surreal was the entire experience that she might have written it off as a dream, had the pain in her heart not been so fresh.
As she had daydreamed of Peter, the reality that included Logan pressed in all around her. She fought it, trying to stave off the suicidal depression with happier memories. Peter and Ororo had taken home that first trophy, hadn't they? It ws still in the trophy case at home. In the mansion.
In the home she and Logan were married in five years ago.
She can't see his face. When was the last time he actually met her gaze? At one time, she knew everything he couldn't say by a shift in the line of his lips or the arch of his brows. Now, he keeps secrets, hiding those deep places inside of him where she used to live. They had filled one another up, never let go. But, without warning, his grip had loosened one day. Now she was adrift, aching and alone.
Whatever Logan's lawyer was saying made no difference to Ororo. Blinking helplessly at the papers before her, she barely heard Henry McCoy -- whom acted as her attorney -- reply to the bleached blonde, French-manicured woman at Logan's side. When all this started, Storm held on to the belief that it would pass. Logan didn't really want to be rid of her... Sure, they had problems, but what marriage didn't? Surely things were not so bad that they demanded a divorce.
But now, as she looked down at the stack of papers lying so innocently on the glossy table top, she wondered how things had come so far.
Aware that several sets of eyes were on her, Ororo stared with unblinking eyes at the signature already scrawled over the line marked "husband". He had signed so easily, so quickly. It was as if he wanted to simply be rid of the last few years. Was she to be reduced to an old, unwelcome memory? Had her marriage really been nothing more than a sometimes amusement for her soon-to-be former husband?
"Ororo?"
Ignoring the soft call of her name, Storm glanced up. Logan sat directly across from her, toying with something small and metallic on the table. She could hear the dull clinking of it as the circle of gold spun on one end before giving in to gravity. He had not looked up since the meeting started. He calmly allowed Ororo whatever possessions she wanted, stipulating that he keep the house he had built for them. She allowed it. Nothing material would repair her greiving heart.
"My dear?"
She did not turn her eyes from the careful study of Logan's Stetson, but she did respond.
"Yes?"
"Some of us have places to be, Mrs. Munroe," the snotty lawyer said nastily.
"Would it be too much to ask for a little compassion," Peter snapped back in Ororo's defense. "They are ending a marriage."
"Happens every day," the lawyer shot back.
"Bea, shut up."
It was the first that Logan had said in some time. Ororo's heart tripped at just hearing the familiar tone. Though he did not look up or even acknowledge the other X-Men in the room, something akin to hope flared to life in Ororo's breast. She knew it was dangerous to hope again, but she still loved him. Oh, how she loved her Wolverine. There was nothing she would not give him, if only he asked.
For five years their marriage was wonderful. Just a year after Charles and Jean had left them, Logan proposed to the weather witch. As Scott had been found at Alkali Lake some months earlier, he blessed the union as much as a broken man could. He still blamed Logan for the loss of Jean, but even then there had been some understanding as to why it happened. Ororo sometimes wondered if her dear friend would ever recover from the loss of his fiancee.
"She didn't want this."
That flicker of hope jumped in Ororo's chest again. No, she hadn't wanted it. When Logan told her six months ago that they were through, her first reaction was confusion. She had assumed there was another woman, but no one could find any traces of one. She still did not know what prompted the sudden and heartbreaking decision, only that he had pulled completely away from her. Gone were the days when she could read his every emotion without seeing his face. No more would he reach for her while lost in the dredges of a nightmare.
He, quite simply, was through with her. But was there hope still? Could she win him back?
"I still don't," Ororo offered, looking up at him.
"That's too bad," came the reply from shadow under the Stetson.
Hurt once more, Ororo reached for the pen lying so peacefully in the center of the table. Two little signatures was all it took. The flash of a thick ink pen ended what had been the happiest period in her life. It seemed so empty. In her heart, her marriage was alive and well. This entire ordeal is just a farce. She hadn't stopped loving him and something told her that, deep down, he hadn't stopped loving her either. He was trying to protect himself...or maybe even her. From what, she could not even fathom.
She looked up after scrawling her signature the final time. To her surprise, her eyes met Logan's for the first time in months. There was pain in those ebony eyes. Pain and loss and something so heartbreaking she could not even put a name to it. Ororo wanted to reach across the table, to cover his hand with hers and comfort him. But the blonde lawyer snatched the signed papers away, effectively breaking the long-sought eye contact in a flash.
"Well, that's over with," Bea said sardonically. "Congratulations, kids."
Henry spoke up a moment later as Peter steathily grasped Ororo's free hand under the table.
"A little professional decorum is not uncalled for, madam."
Bea merely sniffed at the big, blue mutant.
Ororo stood up gracefully, inhaling deeply. Somewhere in the general area of her feet she found the strength to not shed a single tear. Her marriage was over. Everything was in shambles around her.
With careful hands, Ororo reached for the rings resting on her finger. She'd never removed them in five years of marriage. She worked the set off quickly, bruising her knuckle in her haste. Without so much as a word, she leaned over the table and took Logan's hand. He startled slightly, but his palm opened as though he wanted to reach for her. Ororo deposited her rings into his palm, swallowing over the lump of emotion in her throat.
"These are yours."
She straightened, turned on her heel, and led Henry and Peter out of the law office.
***
"I want to hate him."
Loud whistling of engines and the gentle sound of passengers snoring made Ororo raise her voice slightly. Peter, those soulful eyes filled with empathy, nodded.
"I do not doubt it."
Ororo closed her eyes, laying her head back against the headrest. "It would make everything easier if I could just write him off. But I still love him, isn't that stupid?"
"No." He shook his head. "Love does not fade when the ink dries or because someone walked away. You are not expected to stop loving him. At least, not yet."
A single tear leaked from her eye, only to be wiped from her cheek by a thick thumb. Peter never could stand the sight of a woman crying, it tended to send him into rage or sorrow. Never had Ororo met a man that could so easily be described as an old fashioned knight in shining armor. Literally and figuratively.
"I feel like such a jerk," Ororo admitted. "I believed all of his promises."
"I believe he made those promises with only the best of intentions." Peter defended his friend quickly, though Storm knew he was still firmly on her side.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the fasten seatbelt light has been reengaged. We will be landing in just a few moments. The temperature is seventy degrees with partly cloudy skies. Thank you for flying with us and welcome to Columbia."
As the flight attendant finished her speech, Peter sighed deeply. Ororo, somehow, felt a little better. Logan was far away in New York, minding the children as he tended to do. Every summer when she and Peter left for several weeks, the school was forced to live without their Headmistress. It felt so blissfully normal to be going away with Peter like this. For just a few moments, she could forget all about her divorce, the emptiness of her heart and bed.
At least it was something.
