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Chapter 3, “Recognition”

“Logan. I’m glad you came.” Charles Xavier looked up from his cluttered desk, moving papers and file folders in some semblance of order.

The other man looked around the room somewhat cautiously. He’d just been there in the Professor’s downstairs study the day before for his latest weekly ‘session’; with the way things had been going lately, he couldn’t see Chuck wanting to submit himself to the continued punishment of beating his shiny head against the Wall that was Wolverine’s mind.

“Yeah, actually, I was just gonna head out fer a few hours, get some air, so if ya could make this kinda quick…” Logan was pointing behind him already.

Charles only smiled pleasantly, gesturing a chair. Logan waved his decline, evidently preferring to stand. Unbothered, Xavier nodded, folding his hands atop the desk. “Well, I wanted to speak with you as soon as possible, to ask something of you.”

“Yeah..?” Now Logan could feel the hackles on his neck rise; there was something about the nice, intentionally smooth cadence to the man’s voice. He was setting Logan up for something, like bad news.

“Well, you’ve been back for a couple weeks now, and I understand you’re going to be anxious to get back to Active duty.”

That got Logan’s attention. He’d been a bored mess hanging around the mansion with nothing to occupy his time but defense class lesson plans, his sessions w/ Chuck and fighting thoughts of silky white hair and perky brown ni”

“Yeah, yeah I kinda am.”

Charles nodded, smiling brightly but with a wicked twinkle somewhere in his eyes. Calmly he continued, “That’s good. However, I’m not sure we’re ready to take that step yet. You’ve been through quite a bit in the last year, Logan.”

There it was.

“Hold on; what’re you trying to tell me here, Chuck? Yer not gonna take me off the sidelines?” Logan crossed his arms, immediately feeling his temper rising.

“Not immediately, no.” Xavier could tell he may be playing with fire, but part of his method of madness was to see exactly how Wolverine was going to react to this. He wheeled his chair from behind the desk, coming to within several feet of his ‘student’. “Hank has some reservations about how your recent accident may have affected your body, and I’m in no rush to put such a crucial member of the team back in action before we’re sure it won’t do more harm than good.”

Muther FUCKER. Logan’s eyes said everything Charles needed to hear as he tried his best not to feed right into the professor’s trap. He’d been in similar situations enough to realize this was a test.

‘Ah Hell with it.’

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. So what, now you and Furball are deciding what’s best fer me??” Logan’s posture turned from being guardedly relaxed to obviously pissed in 0.2 seconds.

“This is quite standard procedure, Logan. Each team member goes through the same process after an Inactive Leave, you know that.” Charles was still speaking in that annoyingly calm tone, his hands loosely folded in his lap as he watched the other man’s every tick and grunt and sigh.

“Yeah yeah, I get that, but I ain’t everyone else. I’m telling ya, I’m fine.” So what if that was a little on the ‘optimistic’ side? He just couldn’t stay another month or week or even two days like this.

Charles wasn’t fooled for a second. “Now Logan, you and I both know that isn’t true. Or are you going to tell me you’re no longer having nightmares about crashing in the desert?”

He paused when the professor said that; he hadn’t mentioned his dreams to Charles in about 10 days. Was the telepath able to slip inside Logan’s head when he was asleep? It wasn’t just the crash he still dreamed about, either…

When Wolverine didn’t answer, Charles made his own assumptions about why that was. “Trust me, I don’t want to prolong your Inactive status any longer than you, but as I said, Henry has some reservations that I’d much rather allow him to research. Besides, I could use you elsewhere.”

Distracted, Logan met Charles’ gaze, curious.

“I’ve got a trip planned to Washington this weekend. One of several over the next few months. While the rest of the team will deal with the more ‘hands on’ aspects of missions, I’m determined to get the government to recognize mutants as a persecuted group and fund training that will help educate the general public about us. I’ve been invited to a special summit in D.C. where the U.S. and other nations will be discussing mutant-related issues specifically. They need to realize that it isn’t just a “mutant problem”, however; it’s a issue for all mankind.”

Logan grinned a little, watching Xavier get a little distracted and off topic himself; he knew Chuck wasn’t jerking his chain anymore; not when it came to mutant affairs. Even so… “What does this have to do with me?”

“I want you to accompany me.”

Logan’s expression echoed his immediate thought: “Why?”

With a chuckle, Charles explained, “Normally, Henry would be going, but as he’s pretty occupied and you’re otherwise available, I thought it would be a good thing for you. Don’t worry, Logan, I don’t expect you to sit through the speeches and cocktails and networking, but at least you’ll see that force isn’t the only way to get things done in the world.”

He was shaking his head at Charles, but knew already that he ultimately had no choice. What, stay there in the mansion while the rest of the team was off on some mission? Or take one of his sabbaticals back home to Canada, where he could reminisce about the day he’d lost his adamantium? No thanks.

Logan bit back a growl, clenching his teeth as he grated out, “Well, D.C. it is.”



Later That Night, around 2a.m. Local Time in Kenya…
The late night air was cool and quite comfortable for the time of year, but that was almost always due to the power of the Ivory Priestesses, who looked after the land and protected it, along with providing a very nice atmosphere.

Unfortunately, not everyone was able to enjoy it…


It was only about 30 minutes after she’d finally gotten to sleep before Ororo’s body was twisted and turned in her large king-sized bed. Her body was wrapped in the satin and silk sheets several different ways as her head thrashed from side to side, sweat soaking her pillows and body as if she was laying out in the sun of the Sahara.

Behind her lovely, thick-lashed lids, her eyes rolled in spasms as she entered REM sleep, but it wasn’t restful by any stretch of the imagination. She continued to struggle in her sleep for another hour before her body had gone deathly still, her hair loosened from the carefully braided knot her attendants had placed it in hours before.

A sudden chill ran down her spine, and Ororo awoke in surprise, feeling warmth behind her when she knew she’d gone to bed alone. She didn’t want to open her eyes, hoping that this time, for the first time, that if she didn’t look, it would mean none of it was happening.

A warm, slightly trembling hand brushed her arm, sliding up its length before moving to her small waist, fingers curving into the shape of her pelvic bone. Hot breath tickled her ear, and when she felt the throbbing erection against her backside, she knew for certain it was Him.

Despite herself, Ororo allowed his hand to caress her chin, his thumb lightly running over her bottom lip before he pressed against her jaw line, turning her face back toward him. Still half asleep but her heart pounding in her ears, she obeyed; her lips hadn’t fully come around to face him before he leaned in the rest of the way, covering them with his own in the same hungry passion that she’d come to expect from him each time he visited her.

She allowed their tongues to dance for several moments before pulling back, meeting his gaze with pleading questions in her eyes. Ororo’s voice couldn’t seem to find itself around him, unless it was with moans of pleasure and that fact seemed quite fine with him, as his fingers floated down from the pulse at her neck to the collarbone & shoulder, gently sweeping around the contour of her naked breast before his cool palm covered it completely.

Inhaling sharply, her eyes fluttered a little, anticipating his next moves, but he paused, still watching her with those haunted but hungry eyes. Thank You.

She followed his wandering gaze to his right arm, where the bare muscles were drawn tight as he used it to prop himself up at the elbow. She reached up to touch the arm, flashes of seeing his broken, battered body laying on the desert floor playing like a movie behind them. Her attention turned to watch the transparent display, remembering what happened next.


Don’t fight it.

Ororo sighed, the small sound echoing as the space around them waved like the heat on the desert, before the darkened bedroom melted away in favor of more familiar surroundings. He raised his chin, and then smiled knowingly when the sounds of their private, tropical paradise met his ears. The wide bed of silk sheets disappeared, replaced by infinitely soft bright green grass and leaves; the night wind faded into the sound of the waterfall bubbling a few yards away and as he turned to look back at her, felt like he was finally ‘home’.

The gaze she returned told him that the woman he’d met there had returned, replacing the unsure, reserved counterpart from the palace bedroom. It was the same each time they met; he had to ‘reintroduce’ them before she finally emerged from the cocoon that was her hard, elusive shell. Once she did, however, the difference was night and day.

A stiff, cool breeze erupted from nowhere, blowing her braided coil of hair up and loosening the tight hairdo until the long, thick locks of silver fell down over her shoulders and onto the jungle floor. Her expression told him it was a liberating relief and she laughed lightly before leaning into him, pressing her lips to his as thought it was the first time. They fell against the grass as he wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling her torso over his. Silver eyes met Blue momentarily and He never felt so alive as at that moment, wrapping a thick lock of her shimmering hair around his hand. She touched his cheek, her eyes no longer afraid but alive with the promise of things to come.


*Gasp!*

Ororo’s eyes snapped open, her head spinning for several seconds as she looked around frantically. The dark shadows of her palace room surrounded her, while the sky outside told her it was nearing dawn. She sat up in the large bed, drawing the cold, wet sweat-soaked sheet up to her chest. When she moved, she felt something scratch her, and looked down to see pieces of leaves and twigs mixed within the sheets.

Angrily, she brushed them to the floor, then got up from the bed, yanking the sheets off & whipping them out to rid them of the debris. When she did so, several dozen bright blue petals were cast up into the air, only to float down around her head, landing quietly at her feet.

Ororo’s eyes widened and she took a step back, her bare toes sliding against the smooth marble floor. Frantically she gathered them up, hurrying to the terrace doors where she flung them open and tossed the petals to the wind.

‘It can’t be.’ Ororo’s eyes darted about the room searching for any more evidence of the offending flower before snatching up her silk sheet, wrapping it around her body and fleeing the room.

Some minutes later, the door to the crown prince’s room opened without a noise, and delicate brown feet padded in, coming to stop beside the bed for a few seconds before she crawled up onto the firm mattress.

T’Challa had still been asleep, but now turned his head toward her as she curled up against him. He smiled, but when he reached over to touch her, his expression changed. [Ororo? You’re trembling; what’s happened?]

Her throat was raw, but she knew that the tightness wasn’t from the pent up emotions warring in her heart…

Shaking her head, she buried her face in T’Challa’s shoulder, the immense guilt, shame & conflict boiling over. For his part, the soon-to-be King of the Wakandan-Kenyan Alliance gathered his fiancée into his arms, simply holding her shaking body. He’d not seen Ororo this upset since they were children, and he admitted to himself that the image of her dismantled and vulnerable…thoroughly unnerved him.

Despite the fact he was unclear what had put her in such a state, T’Challa whispered sympathetically, [It’s alright; it was but a dream? Nightmare, perhaps.]

Ororo couldn’t respond, closing her eyes to everything in some vain attempt to forget tanned peach skin and the way he made her feel when he made love to her. A Nightmare?

‘If only it could be.’ She knew when she awoke amidst the petals of the Blue Desert Rose that it was anything but.

Looking up at him with glassy red-rimmed eyes, Ororo whispered finally, [I’m sorry, T’Challa…but I won’t be able to accompany you on your trip this week.]

He was beyond surprised, leaning away to stare at her with concern & disappointment. [But why? You’ve been looking forward to this as much as I.]

Her eyes left his as she responded, [I have to answer…another call.] Before he could question her, she elaborated briefly, [My mind & my will have both seemed to betray me of late. I need to take counsel with the Ivory Priestesses”it cannot delay.]

[Ororo…]

She laid her hand on his arm, fitting her head beneath his chin. [Please, T’Challa. I cannot say more. Trust me this once?]

How could he not? After growing up together, being groomed for matrimony all their lives; she was his best friend, confidant and political partner all in one. She was his strength and hope that there was a brighter future for their two people through their alliance; she was Ororo: she was Beauty.

Most importantly, She had his heart. [This once, always, it matters not. Anything to see the light return to your eyes.]

That decided, Ororo hugged him closer, taking a deep breath that was expelled a little shakily. She knew the Priestesses would have the answer she sought; she just hoped it was what she wanted to hear.


---


The Next Day, Ororo left the palace under secret; not even a member of the Dora Milaje was allowed to tail her, per T’Challa’s instructions. It unnerved Khaji, especially, who thought the whole idea of the future Queen of the Alliance going anywhere alone was foolish, at best.

The young princess donned simple khaki pants, a short-sleeved shirt and hiking boots, carrying a small pack on her back when she left the palace city. She took to the skies immediately, heading west toward Mt. Kilimanjaro and the secret sanctity of the Ivory Priestesses.

T’Challa watched as she left, his eyes squinted against the morning light until he couldn’t see her anymore. He couldn’t seem to shake a nagging feeling eating at his stomach, but he knew no matter what, he trusted Ororo and would be there when she returned.

[Are you sure this is such a good idea?]

He didn’t turn, continuing to search the sky despite the fact Ororo was long gone. [Khaji, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t have to remind you to whom it is you speak.]

The young woman pursed her lips, biting back another comment. She knew her position as Ororo’s friend and T’Challa’s 1st Dora Milaje lent her certain ‘allowances’, but she wasn’t speaking out of turn just to be contrary. Which she reminded him carefully. [Your majesty, my concern for Ororo is legitimate; violence against her kind has spread in recent months and even though the People associate her more with the Priestesses, I don’t want to see some ‘misguided’ soul take out his ignorance on our future Queen.]

T’Challa fidgeted a little, curtailing his immediate instinct to remind Khaji that he hadn’t forgotten how important Ororo was. He couldn’t simply dictate her life such as had been done generations before with the movements of the Wakandan king’s wife; she was different, and it was only partially to do with her role as an Ivory Priestess. Finally, he agreed, [Nor do I. But I think you underestimate your queen. Ororo can take care of herself. ]

Khaji crossed her arms tightly, watching T’Challa’s back; her expression was guarded, but inwardly she hoped he was right.


---


As the rest of the world went about its daily routine, a small space of it seemed rooted in time. The foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro appeared no different than that of any other mountain set. To outsiders, that’s as far as they would get anyway.

For one such as Ororo, who knew better, it was like coming home.

She had been traveling for hours, taking her time to calm her nerves and enjoy the desert colors of her native land. It was a method she hoped would get her ready to face her mother’s ancestors; a head-strong lot that cared deeply for family, but at the same time had no time for idle visits. As a matter of fact, it had been more than 15 years since she’d last seen the inside of the Ivory citadel, when her initial training by the Priestesses had concluded and she was ‘adopted’ by T’Challa’s family to live with them until the two would wed on her 27th birthday. By tradition, she and her future husband lived & worked together as business partners and friends up until their nuptials. Of course, Ororo and T’Challa had become fast friends immediately, and even though she knew he was equally enamored w/ her romantically, Ororo had always held her feelings more closely to the vest. She respected him of course and loved him as both brother & friend…but even though he was probably the best looking specimen of Man she’d laid eyes on, romantic feelings toward him was something she’d always found elusive.

Unbidden, her thoughts fixed on another, who she seemingly had no problems with in that department. ‘Stop that, now. This is nonsense; you don’t even know what these “dreams” mean…’

She had taken to calling the late night encounters ‘dreams’, mainly in a vain hope that that was all they were. Deep down she knew that wasn’t so, but it didn’t keep Ororo from wishing.

Stepping among the large rocks and boulders at the base of the mountain, she reached into her shirt and pulled out a necklace of linked gold, at the end of which were 3 jewels: one of red, white and blue. Behind an unassuming boulder, the shadows were long and she rested there momentarily, taking a deep breath before she wiped away several layers of desert sand from the face of rock behind it to reveal a small space with three holes in a triangular design.

Each jewel fit perfectly in the holes, and she bowed her head, saying a quiet prayer. Immediately, the side of the mountain rumbled, rocks falling from above, but she didn’t move, knowing none would strike her. After several moments, a semi-truck-sized opening was revealed, cool air blasting out at her.

Ororo shielded her face for just a second or so before taking her gemstones back and heading into the pitch-black entrance before the face of the mountain closed again.


Several hours later, Ororo felt she was no closer to figuring out what was happening to her than before she’d arrived. No amount of training and studying of ancient scrolls had prepared her for the chaos warring within her mind and heart.

Sitting cross-legged in the wide central chamber of the citadel, she was surrounded by five matronly females, each of varying apparent ages. They all had bright, white hair that fell in cascading waves down their shoulders and bright blue eyes that fixed her with acute gazes. The cool (to the point of aloof) expressions were just barely beginning to piss her off a little, but she did her best not to show it.

[Is that all you can tell me, Madorae?]

The oldest of the women cocked her jeweled head to one side, watching Ororo like a parent would a child that had asked too many questions on the origins of life. [What we have told you is enough, young one. By your own admission you have accepted the Choice of the Blue Desert Rose. We do not understand your query.]

[”Accepted”--?? Wait, I have not accepted anything. You taught me that the legend of the Flower was to unite and protect our people, ensuring the survival of the Solo and the Priestess legacy--]

[What we told you], one of the matrons interrupted, [is that following your coming of age, you may be given the option of embracing the Legacy of your ancestors; that of the Madora and the Ivory Priestesses. The Blue Rose is part of that destiny. Once accepted, it cannot be refused. The Rose’s purpose is to ensure the survival of our way of life and the Ivory legacy. We cannot tell you more until you have fulfilled your part in the cycle.]

[And how do I do that?]

[You must accompany your betrothed on his mission of peace.] The eldest Madora stated matter-of-factly.

[The answers we believe you’re seeking are tied to T’Challa’s journey West. Follow him and you shall find what you are looking for.]Another piped in, nodding without doubt.

Ororo’s expression was confused as she looked at each woman in turn before coming to her knees and bowing low in respect. She felt even more uncertain, but knew that was all she was to get out of them for the moment. [May the Goddess be praised; thank you for agreeing to see me.]

The Priestesses watched her as she retreated back the way she’d come. When she had disappeared into the blackness outside of the citadel, one of the matrons turned to her sisters in concern. [The child seems not to understand her role in The Cycle. Perhaps the Rose--]

[The Rose…], The eldest Madora corrected, [knows her heart far better than the Child knows it herself. There is a balance to be struck in all things; Ororo must realize this. She is part of this balance, and cannot deny her true self…no matter how inconvenient it may be for her.]

[She will follow T’Challa West, then?] another asked.

[Yes. Once two halves find themselves whole, the Cycle will complete itself, and our Legacy will live on. It has been so and will continue to be so.]

The group nods in compliance, their faces once again neutral. Each woman with her striking blue eyes and bright white hair, tall and regal and beautiful beyond compare. They knew the trials ahead of their young sister, for each of them had been through it in her time…

..None relished Ororo the long road ahead of her.



TBC…





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