Chapter Seven: Better Days
When you love a woman
You see your world inside her eyes
When you love a woman
You know she's standin' by your side
A joy that lasts forever
There's a band of gold that shines
Waiting somewhere
~Journey
It wasn’t every day that a young man had the distinct pleasure of holding an overly gorgeous woman a little too closely. Though he tried to remind himself that she was his teacher, that she was still sort of married to a man that could gut him with a look, Artie couldn’t help smirking triumphantly when he caught sight of them in the mirror.
Miss Munroe was dressed for their lessons, like always. Her tight black trousers and form-fitting white tank kept distracting him as he tried the complicated ups and downs of a traditional waltz.
“Artie?”
Suddenly aware that he’d been caught daydreaming “ again “ he snapped his attention back to the slender beauty in his arms. She had her eyebrow up, but said nothing about his wandering mind.
“You are not going to break me,” she continued, stopping their movement. “Piotr?”
The massive man looked up from where he’d been watching the waltzing pair. His serious eyes danced with amusement as he reached them. Piotr pushed Artie closer to the female mutant, adjusting his arms until they were in a perfect waltz pose.
“She is rather distracting, isn’t she?” Colossus teased in a low tone to Artie. The younger boy blushed, chewing on his amphibian tongue.
“That will be all, Piotr,” Storm said frostily, though there was humor in her smile.
“All right,” she turned her eyes back to Artie. “Let us try this again.”
Artie closed his eyes, listening intently to the beat of the music. Storm was so slight that it was something like dancing with air. In addition to her slender frame, the woman was drop dead gorgeous. He got all tongue-tied whenever she turned those big baby blues on him, his neck suddenly hot whenever she tossed him a wink.
He refused to think of Bobby’s constant ribbing. It really wasn’t funny to say someone was hot for their teacher. Well, Storm wasn’t even his teacher anymore, but that wasn’t really the point! She still felt like his teacher, even if that perfume of hers always smelled so damn good…
“Artie!”
Snapping back to reality, Artie found Piotr laughing against the mirrors and Storm shaking her head with that slightly silly smile on her face. The young man blushed to the roots of his hair, wondering how much of his internal monologue had reflected on his face.
“Again!” Storm said, biting back laughter without much success.
“One, two,” she counted the steps. “Rise…three, four, fall.”
Unfortunately, Artie’s feet decided to do exactly the opposite of what the woman said. He released her hands as he tripped, barely saving himself from falling in a heap on the polished wood floor. He swore violently, which only made the chuckling Russian laugh harder. Sometimes Piotr could be a real pain in the back end.
“All right,” Storm said, silencing Piotr with a single, deadly look.
“Lets face it,” Artie muttered miserably. “I’ve got two left feet, two left arms, and two left brains.”
“Ororo,” Piotr cut in, still fighting a tide of laughter. “Perhaps we should show it to him again.”
“Oh, yeah,” the younger mutant snapped. “Cause the fact that you two are professionals makes me feel better. I feel like a lump.”
“Ok,” Ororo said, stepping between the boys. She took the stereo remote from her pocket and silenced the soft, symphony music. A beat later, something that sounded like it belonged in World War II flooded the room.
“What the…” Artie stopped when Storm crooked a finger at him in a beckoning manner.
Artie may have been young, but even he knew no man resists that “come hither” from a woman like Storm. He moved across the room to her swaying body.
“Lets relax,” she said, holding her hands out to him as the warble of some woman he couldn’t quite place flooded the room.
“Huh?” the boy asked, blinking when he saw Piotr jamming in the mirror.
“Let Aretha carry your worries away,” Ororo said with a fond smile.
He stared at her blankly even as she spun her body into a tight circle. “Who’s Aretha?”
Both elder mutants stopped dead in their tracks. Ororo put a hand to her forehead and promptly mimed fainting, trusting her nearby partner to catch her. The enormous Russian stepped up behind her, easily swooping the dark beauty into his arms as though she were but an extension of his own body. Damn, they looked good together.
“His gross lack of education is appalling, Professor Munroe,” Piotr admonished.
Ororo, fluttering the spray of long white lashes against her cheeks in dismay, nodded. “Come, my darling, we will teach the young pup.”
They split apart, twitching their shoulders and hips in a rendition of something he’d seen in a John Travolta movie. Oh yeah, that’s where he’d heard that song. Artie shrugged, watching them carefully.
“Stop thinking,” Ororo ordered him. “Dance is not only in the steps. Just…move.” Her dreamy smile nearly stopped his heart altogether.
Artie made a face, then swooped into some kind of weird dance maneuver that both Piotr and Ororo seemed to like, for they copied his movement. Deciding, what the hell, they would never make fun of him in public, he fell into step beside his tutors.
It took only seconds for the three of them to fall into synch. Artie noticed Storm lip-synching and relaxed completely. Piotr had his eyes closed, lost in this old music that they seemed to think was more important than guys like Linkin Park and System of a Down.
They moved as a sinuous unit inside of a minute, each of them parroting the others’ movements until they had a short dance routine made up on the spot. Artie, quite suddenly, was having one hell of a good time.
He grabbed Storm by the hands, forcing her to dance with him. She continued mouthing the words, even when Artie pushed her out into the spin she had taught him last week. The slight woman spun out expertly, looking as though she were made to move that way. Artie tugged on her hand, bringing her back into his arms.
They slid together, her back to his chest, easily finding a niche in the music. When Ororo flipped around to face him again, they fell into step quickly. It felt so much more natural that the structured waltz.
Though he wanted to learn from his teacher so that he could dance with his mother for her fiftieth birthday. She had always wanted to waltz like they did in old black and white movies, so Artie thought his learning could be her birthday gift.
He hadn’t realized it would be so damn hard!
“Artie?” Storm asked as the song switched on the player.
“Yeah?” He gave her a grin.
“You’re waltzing,” she pointed out gently.
To his great pleasure, Artie turned his head to the mirror, finding he was indeed holding his teacher in a perfect ballroom pose. He released her quickly, jumping toward the ceiling with a whoop of joy. His enhanced amphibian cellular structure landed him softly on his feet in front of his brilliant professor.
“Ok, I see what you were saying now!” He grinned at him, kissing her cheek nosily. “It does all fit together! Man, Mom’s gonna flip! Can we try it again?”
Through her amused laughter, Ororo nodded. “Piotr, play some Charles. He’ll like that.”
“Charles?” Artie asked as the music changed and he took his teacher back into his arms.
“Ray Charles.” Ororo explained, then sighed heavily when he continued to look at her blankly. “I see we have miles to go with you yet.”
“It’s a good thing I’m cute, then, huh?”
Storm’s silvery laughter filled the room as they began to move again. Some days, he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than this mansion.
~**~
Then
Madness reigned at the mansion for the week leading up to the wedding. Decorations were in order and food brought in. The ceremony and resulting party were to be small, but there was something to be said about a glimmer of happiness after such darkness.
Logan stood with his best man and groomsmen in a small tent erected beside the lake. Being outdoors types, Wolverine and Storm had opted for a ceremony completed lakeside. The students and teachers living at Xavier’s School, would stand around them, or sit on wide wicker benches.
As he fought with his tie, he glanced at Scott looking out of the window. “You ok, bub?”
Though the ruby-quartz lenses of his protective eyeglasses obstructed his face Logan could read his friend’s regret in the wrinkle of his chin. Most probably thought Cyclops would marry long before Storm or Wolverine. But after the death of Jean and his subsequent exile at Alkali Lake, the man was ever altered. He spoke little, pulling so far inside that many of them worried for his sanity. To this day, he only spoke when he had to and usually only with Storm or Logan.
“Just thinking,” Scott replied.
“About Jean.” Logan offered, watching him carefully.
“About Jean,” the other man confirmed.
He turned back to the mirror, fussing with the tie yet again. Why had had he let Rogue and Kitten tag team him into this damn thing? He finally tossed the tie away, deciding that if he had to wear the damn tux, he would make it his own.
Unbuttoning the first few of his shirt, he tossed the jacket aside and wrenched the shirttails from his trousers. Feeling immensely better, shoes were tossed across the room, making Bobby jump out of the way.
“Hey,” he said, standing quickly. “We don’t match now.”
Logan shrugged. “So, take your coats off.”
Piotr smirked wickedly as both boys threw their coats away and kicked off their shoes. “The girls may kill us all.”
“Actually, I heard Marie say Storm wouldn’t even buy shoes. Apparently she’s going barefoot.”
Wolverine grinned at them. “Yeah, sounds like her.”
Leaving the younger men to their discussion, Logan moved toward Cyclops, whom had obviously decided that “when in Rome…”
“You gonna be able to get through this day?” Logan asked in a low tone.
Scott gave him a brief, heartbreaking smile. There was something in the twitch of his lips and the set of his jaw that made Logan briefly afraid that his friend would break down. He didn’t mind the mental collapses usually, but on his wedding day, it was somewhat annoying.
“I’ll be fine, Wolverine.” Scott said as he yanked the tie off. “I’m just glad you two found each other.”
“I’d be jealous as hell and twice as pissed off.”
“Yeah,” Scooter chuckled meekly. “But I’m not you.”
Logan accepted this, turning back toward the mirror. His heart sped up a little, as it had all morning. In an hour “ barring the usual X-Men interruptions at the last, possible moment “ Ororo Munroe would be his wife. All his. For as long as they could stand each other.
“She would have wanted to be here,” Scott said quietly.
Without turning, Logan grunted. “She is. So is Chuck.”
Scott smiled. Logan nodded. Talk officially over.
~**~
Hours after the ceremony, the party was still in full swing. Bobby and several other students had replaced the exhausted disc jockey some time ago, thrilling the young wedding revelers with grinding guitar riffs and throaty vocals.
Ororo gently unpinned her veil, shaking her hair down with a small smile on her face. Logan, his shirt completely unbuttoned and wedding band shiny on his hand, was laughing with Marie as they tore the makeshift dance floor up together.
Bobby crooned about longing and want into the microphone, his hands flying over the strings of his guitar. Artie slammed on the drums, keeping the beat masterfully while Kitty manipulated a keyboard.
Music was offered at Xavier’s School, but only recently did the students partake in it. She thought, perhaps, that the competition win she and Piotr had brought home ignited a creative fire in her students. They had painters, sculptors, musicians and dancers here at their school. It was rather refreshing.
“Hello, Mrs. Munroe.”
Ororo let her smile curve her lips, reaching up to take her sweaty husband’s hand. He plopped into the chair beside her, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. She chuckled softly, letting him sneak in for a quick, promising kiss.
“Hello, husband,” she replied, rolling his new title over her tongue. “I do enjoy the sound of that.”
“Hey, so do I, wife.” He grinned foolishly at her. “Damn, you look beautiful.”
Inwardly, she preened like a well-fed cat. Outwardly, she felt her cheeks heat at his praise.
“Logan…”
He kissed her again, grinning against her mouth when she reached up to run her hands through his unruly hair. “You know you’re beautiful, stop bein’ all modest.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, tugging on his hair playfully. “If I don’t?”
Her new husband growled, clutching her knee to tug her closer. “I’ll have to spank you.”
“Promises, promises.”
“You’re gonna get it, girl.”
Ororo smirked, nipping at his lips softly. Her heart felt swollen enough to burst, the day having been as perfect as any woman could imagine her wedding day. From the soft sprays of white flowers covering the arbor Logan made for the ceremony to the perfect tent for the reception, complete with dance floor.
She wished Jean could have stood beside her, and in a strange way she felt her dear friend’s presence through the day. The feeling of Charles’ benevolent gaze watching from above as she married her soul mate lingered even now.
“Guess what?” Logan whispered as Bobby’s song came to a close.
“Mmm?” She hummed, still dizzy from his addicting kisses.
“I love you, Ororo.”
“Oh, good,” she replied cheekily. “Because I like you very much, Logan.”
“Wench.”
He tugged on her hand, pulling her from her seat and letting the veil fall onto the chair, forgotten. Ororo let him drag her to the dance floor, pressing their bodies close together as Bobby belted out a rather good cover of Journey’s Lights.
She noticed a few moments into the dance that he seemed to enjoy toying with her new wedding band. Ororo smiled, admiring the ring as well.
“Mine?” He asked, raising a brow.
“Until the sky falls down,” she replied, wrapping both arms around his neck.
Logan pulled her closer, drifting into a soft, slow dance. The world fell away and for a moment, she was just a woman, holding onto the man whom held her heart.
~**~
Now
With his paperwork tucked under his arm, Logan moved into his office. Tossing his things onto the cluttered desk, he moved to his record player. Selecting a vinyl copy of Travis Tritt’s Greatest Hits, he set it gently onto the turntable and moved the needle into position.
In this generation of iPods and electronic music, Logan was pleased to see that vinyl was making a long-overdue comeback. Nothing compared to the luxury of a record, of the smooth music playing from high-definition speakers.
His current favorite tune wafted through the room, mirroring the turbulent feelings rushing through him. Several days after Ororo’s gruesome discovery, the mansion was still buzzing with the news. Many were shocked when he returned to work, believing he would tear off into the night on his motorcycle.
It had taken everything in him to face the accusing eyes, but he did it. He would not shame his wife by hiding away from the world while she dealt with his demons. He owed her more than that, to say the very least.
Softly singing along with the record, he moved back to his desk, settling in the chair to go over class schedules and placement tests for new students. Even the new additions to the mansion’s teeming brood were well aware of what had transpired in Storm’s bedroom.
Though he should have been working, his mind was too caught up in things he could no longer control. His unwilling partner in crime, Psylocke, had retreated into herself as much as she could without missing classes. Angel seemed to hover over her perpetually. He wondered if they had finally stopped dancing around the elephant trampling through their living room.
Logan reached into his desk, taking out the ring box he’d set there that morning. Giving Ororo back her rings, only to see her put them back where they belonged weighed heavily on him. She still had hope for them. There was no stopping that woman and her damned faith. He loved her for it; he loved so much about that woman.
Taking the solid band of gold from the black velvet box, he held it up to the light. It needed a good cleaning and light repair for scratches. He’d only removed it the day they signed the papers, hoping that would make the realization of what he was doing settle into his reality.
It hadn’t worked. He still felt as married to her as the day he said “I do”.
Clutching the ring in his hand, he dropping his head forward, feeling the weight of all that had happened on his shoulders. When she hadn’t known, it was easy to avoid dealing with everything. Now, however, he was face to face with his sins. Nothing was all right anymore.
A soft knock brought him from self-destructive thoughts.
“Yeah?” He called, clearing his throat and hiding his wedding band in his palm.
The furry, indigo form of Hank stepped through his office door. Logan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. Gentle Furball looked pissed off enough to chew steel and spit bullets.
“We need to talk.”
Logan nodded, waving him inside without pause. He’d been waiting for this visit. Whenever Ororo needed a friend, Hank was the first phone call she made. The bond between the two mutants was unbreakable. Logan had nothing but respect for that.
Hank came inside, closing the door with an audible snap. His enormous form moved with predatory grace toward the chair across from Logan. He sat, folding clawed hands in his lap and stared at Logan across the wide expanse of his oak desk.
“She told you.”
“Yes, she did.”
A long, weighted pause followed this exchange. Logan waited patiently for Hank to give him the verbal ass-reaming he deserved.
“What in the name of hell were you thinking?” Hank said suddenly.
His anger was palpable, filling the room and sucking the air from it. Logan brought his hands together “ wedding band still clutched therein “ and dropped his forehead onto the clenched fist.
“I was trying to protect her.”
“You failed.” The unkind words lanced Logan’s already bleeding heart, but it was nothing he felt he did not deserve.
“I know.”
“No one can blame you for the physical attack,” Hank continued. “You had control over your actions. We are lucky, indeed, that Ororo was not killed outright. I believe, in light of that revelation, that a part of you knew she was not the enemy.”
“Thanks,” Logan said, raising his head to glare at his friend. “That makes me feel a lot better.”
“Let me finish,” the other mutant said scathingly. “You had no right to coerce Psylocke into mentally manipulating Ororo. Above all else, Ororo fears mental attack. You know this. You deliberately harmed her.”
“I…”
Logan never got the chance to finish. Hank leapt to his feet, slamming his enormous hands onto the desk so forcefully that it cracked. Wolverine jumped back in surprise.
“You selfish fool,” the ambassador growled. “You wanted only to spare yourself pain. You have destroyed two women with your actions.”
Unable to respond in the heat of Beast’s enraged stare, he only blinked at him.
“And as if your actions were not bad enough, you leave her in the wake of this.” Hank snarled, pushing away from the desk. “You divorced her to protect your lies. Is there no end to your insanity?”
Logan stood, watching as Hank tensed, as though expecting attack. “I didn’t…You can’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand.” Hank shook his head. “No one should have to live with that kind of memory, that pain. I understand, completely, what your intentions were. But the way to hell is paved with good intentions, Wolverine.”
Shaking his head, Logan looked away. He inhaled deeply, expelling the breath sharply.
“I knew it was wrong, Hank,” he began, fighting the emotions swelling inside of him. “But I couldn’t live with it. I thought that I could work past it, I couldn’t face it, though. I kept seeing her bloody body, the marks of my claws.”
He stared down at his hands as though they were alien things.
“Logan,” Hank said with a touch more kindness. “You should have trusted her, trusted your marriage.”
“I know, Hank,” Logan agreed softly. “I wish I had.”
“She loves you,” the furred mutant said almost desperately. “Don’t make the same mistake twice, Logan. Trust her now. If you hurt her again, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
Logan gave his friend a small, lopsided smile. “I understand.”
It was surprising when Hank moved closer, taking Logan’s hand. He pried Logan’s fingers apart gently, raising a brow at the ring he found there. The feral mutant had been clutching it so tightly, there were angry indentations in the shape of it covering his palm.
“Before you put that back on, ask yourself if you can weather this tempest. It will not be easy, but nothing worth fighting for is.”
With that, the furry Beast left Logan’s office.
Alone with the hearty croon of Tritt, Logan stared down at this symbol of eternity, of promises made for love. He had taken vows that day and in the wake of terror, reneged. He didn’t want to be that man; he was tired of pretending to the entire world that he was exactly what they had always painted him.
Taking a deep breath, Logan placed the wedding band in its rightful place. He looked down at it, enjoying the familiar weight of it on his finger. He could get through this. They could get through it.
He hoped he wasn’t lying to himself.
