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Chapter 4, “Disarm”

Friday morning the sun rose with little fanfare, and as Logan turned over in the unfamiliar bed, he blinked several times to wake himself, inhaling deeply to familiarize himself with why he wasn’t in his own bed.

The hotel suite near the capital was Five-Star, of course, but to him it was pomp & circumstance and completely unneeded…well, except maybe for the open bar.

Dragging his feet to the shower, he took his time getting ready. It was going to be the first full day of political schmoozing, as Kitty had called it. He and Charles had gotten in around 8:30pm Thursday evening, and had only enough time to check themselves in before a late dinner & bedtime.

Logan had found sleep an elusive stranger during the night, tossing and turning repeatedly. He couldn’t figure out why his body was so tightly wound up, his mind racing. He felt like he did right before a mission, only the excitement that usually came with those aforementioned feelings was missing.

Hot water ran down his body as he stood in the wide shower, his hands braced against the door and the opposite wall as he hung his head beneath the beating stream. Logan found himself deep in thought, as he realized he hadn’t had any ‘dreams’ (here he scoffed in amusement) in the past two days.

His subconscious had been eerily quiet and he was surprised to admit to himself that without his mysterious, beautiful companion, he was even crankier than ever. His mind vaguely recalled their last meeting; there seemed to be something bothering her, very much unlike the woman remembered in the desert. It had taken some cajoling on his part before her wilder, more carefree and natural side emerged. He wondered what a shrink would think about that; that apparently Logan had to coax his dream girl into submission.

Shaking his head at himself, he came out of the bathroom a little more awake, but still slightly groggy. His stomach was threatening to eat itself, so he quickly dressed and went next door to Charles’ room, knocking on the door out of respect, though he suspected the powerful telepath could sense someone coming well before he got there.

*Come in, Logan.*

“Chuck, ‘mornin. Did I sleep past the wake up call?” he joked, eyeing the wide spread of breakfast items in the dining area of the professor’s suite.

Xavier smiled, moving to the office in the large multi-roomed suite, his voice carrying. “Actually, I thought it best not to wake you. I had room service bring breakfast here, so as not to disturb you. By the look on your face last night, I could guess you needed a good night’s rest.”

Logan was already making himself at home at the table, elbow deep in the fried eggs, ham, cheese and croissants, completely ignoring anything with fruit. As Charles said that though, he slowed his movements, looking up. He could sense Charles was on his way to prying.

He was right.

“Have you not been sleeping well lately again?”

“What makes ya say that?” Was his response around a mouthful of bacon and eggs.

Xavier gave him a look that said what kind of silly question is that? But he didn’t say so. He took it as Logan’s way of ‘politely’ saying he didn’t want to discuss it. Sighing a little, Charles let it go for the moment, coming back to the table where he’d set his own place to take a sip of coffee. Changing the subject, he paused before saying, “Well, I don’t want to rush you, but we should get started soon; the conference starts at 10, but I’d like to speak privately with certain members of the delegation before hand.”

“Yer not gonna use yer powers o’ persuasion, are ya?” Logan’s eyes twinkled as he heavily buttered a croissant.

Charles shook his head at the tasteless joke, but replied, “Of course not. Besides, I thought you’d like to see some of the sites of the capital.”

Logan was already shaking his head. “Nah, been there, done that. D.C. isn’t my type o’ city. Too many stuff shirts, too much traffic…and the bars suck.”

The professor wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he came back with, “Well, you could always join me later. There’s a dinner engagement tonight at 6:30 p.m. in the Grand Ballroom at the Capitol. I’ll leave your pass at the front gates.”

“Yer givin’ me the choice? Huh!” Logan chortled as if Charles should’ve known better.

“Of course, Logan. The choice has always been yours, but I’ll understand if you’d prefer to stay holed up in the suite with the cable T.V. as dinner company.” Xavier smirked, wheeling himself toward the bedroom to change.

He left the other man grumbling over his plate of food, thinking about the barely-worn tux hanging back in his room. He hadn’t even seen material outside of flannel & denim since Scott & Jean got married over 3 yrs ago. He wasn’t relishing jumping back into a ‘monkey suit’ anytime soon.

Still…

Something nagged at him like an important chore he’d forgotten to do, and Logan actually wondered if it wasn’t Charles ‘pressing’ him to get out more. Feeling much like an old hermit, he growled under his breath at the thought of spending an evening surrounded by stuffed shirts and political correctness. Just how had he let Xavier rope him into this again??


---


Later That Night, the black-tie affair was in full swing as important dignitaries from across the globe met at the U.S. Capitol to converse and raise money for the fledgling Mutant Education Fund, which was foremost geared toward the enlightenment of Homo Sapiens to their X Factored siblings, and secondly set up to provide assistance for young mutants who’d been abandoned by family & friends. It was the brainchild of Charles Xavier and had become the pet project of several Senate committee members sympathetic to the Mutant Cause.

The turnout was quite impressive, as representatives from more than 100 different nations expressed concern for their growing mutant populations and the problems arising from it. Of course security was tighter than shopping the day after Thanksgiving, with magnetic wands waved everywhere, and a semi-discreet guest list that clearly identified human from mutant.

Charles had expressed severe concern over that, but had been unable to convince the organizers otherwise without some push from mind control, which he was thoroughly against. Logan had grumbled about it as well, but didn’t cause too much of a stir in respect for Charles. He gave a passing thought to what could’ve happened if he’d still had his adamantium and one of the metal-detecting wands had been passed over him…

“Charles! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Valerie Cooper leaned down in her black mini-dress carefully to hug him. At her side, her husband of 10yrs Daniel Forge waited his turn before extending a hand in greeting.

“Dr. Cooper, Forge, I wasn’t expecting you to make it.” Charles couldn’t contain his surprise. “Allow me to introduce my associate, Logan; he’s been with the team for several years, joining shortly after your departure, Daniel.”

The two men shook hands in that unfamiliar, ‘manly’ sort of way that simultaneously said I have nothing against you…yet and keep your distance at once. Logan nodded with a small grunt, having recalled stories of Forge’s abilities from the likes of Hank & Jean, who assured him the man was the single best engineer and one of the brightest minds on the planet.

“Forge, Ma’am”er, Doctor.”

Val smiled at him, discreetly giving the muscular man a once-over. His slightly wild black hair contrasted with the sharp, tailor-made tux with a mandarin collar and his shiny black shoes. He was thoroughly uncomfortable in the suit, but played it off well, keeping his hands deep in his pockets in a semi-relaxed stance beside Charles.

Forge’s stiff smile stayed on Logan, having heard quite a bit about him as well. As Val and Charles briefly caught up, he was shameless in watching Logan as the other man’s eyes darted back and forth in the crowds of people, almost as if he were expecting to see someone or was he just really uneasy?

“I understand several new nations have either adopted the MEF charter or are looking into funding similar programs,” Val gushed to Charles, “You must be very proud. I think it’s wonderful.”

The professor nodded, about to respond when Logan suddenly got a little antsy beside him. “Excuse me. Chuck if ya need me, I’m at the bar.”

They waited until he’d left, Forge’s distrusting gaze and Val’s appreciative one following his movements. Xavier gave them apologetic looks but otherwise made no excuses.

“Friendly, isn’t he?” Forge commented dryly, shifting his weight from his natural leg to the artificial one, unseen beneath this pants leg. His shiny metal fist gripped the state of the art walking cane he’d designed himself.

“Well Hon, we can’t all be the life of the party like you.” Val teased.

“Logan is a little different from the usual personalities recruited for the team in the past, I will grant you that.” Charles admitted, continuing, “But since he’s been with us, we’ve been doing some marvelous things in The Cause. His expertise in self-defense and combat techniques have given my X-Men invaluable protection skills. We haven’t lost a single team member in the five years since he’s started teaching the courses as a required portion of the curriculum.”

The two turned to watch Logan again, as he sauntered over to the long counter of the bar, leaning against it. Val’s eyebrow went up slightly in curiosity. “You know Charles, when Scott and Jean spoke of him to me, I thought he’d be an older man. Logan barely looks like he’s hit 35.”

“That’s nice of you to notice, dear.” Daniel said, more than a little tongue-in-cheek. He received a sharp elbow for it, too.

Charles was quiet for a moment, as he realized it wasn’t just his imagination, then. Evidently, Henry had been right. In a couple short weeks, Logan had gone from appearing in his early 40’s to barely scratching mid-30’s. It was unnerving, to say the least; along with his physical transformation Charles had also noticed certain psychological and emotional changes as well. It was partly why he’d wanted to keep the Wolverine closer to him for a few weeks, until Henry could figure out what had happened to him…and more, how it was going to affect him in the long run.

Over at the bar, Logan waited patiently for the bartender, whom was one of a dozen or so catering to the well-dressed guests. Most of the people up at the bar were oblivious to the hard work of the ‘tenders, rubbing elbows and trading votes, Logan guessed.

Finally, a young man about 23 or so slid over to him, wiping his hands and giving Logan a tired smile. “What can get you, sir?”

“Got any Molson?”

“Pardon?”

“Beer.Ya got any beer?”

“I’m sorry sir, we”“

“Scotch on the rocks then. And hey”more Scotch than rocks, ‘kay?”

The young man nodded, chuckling and turning to make the drink. Logan sighed behind him, resting against the expensive glass and wood bar top. He shook his head, wondering what type of affair this was that didn’t serve beer?

“Here you are, sir. One heavy Scotch & light Rocks.”

“Thanks, Kid.” Logan slid a C-Note across the counter, the international sign of keep ‘em coming. The bartender beamed, snatching up the tip and nodding vigorously, tipping an invisible hat off to Logan.

As the lone X-Man stood there, languidly downing the burning liquid, his eyes caught sight of Charles some yards away, conversing with a tall, dark-skinned man dressed impeccably in a tailored tux accented with a silk sash across his chest of royal blue, white and gold. Behind and to the man’s right stood a young woman.

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her; she seemed vaguely familiar for some reason, but he couldn’t see all of her face, as she was turned more toward Charles. Her all-black pants suit fit to a T, and he was surprised to see boots peeking out from beneath them. A long ponytail of ebony shimmered at her back and on the cleanly-shaved portion of her head were some tribal symbols he didn’t recognize.

It was something about the way she stood, though…her straight shoulders and the almost regal way she lifted her chin as she looked at the man beside her, rapt in attention. The duo stood fairly close, but not as close as a couple would have. Logan had no idea why he noticed this.

After several seconds, Charles looked up and met his gaze, then smiled, gesturing Logan closer. Taking his 3rd shot glass of Scotch, Logan turned to the bartender, telling the young man to keep his spot warm for him, and leaned away from the counter, lazily making his way through the crowd to them. Once he’d come to Xavier’s side, he met the man’s gaze, nodding low enough it could’ve been taken as a bow.

“Prince T’Challa, may I introduce my associate Logan; Logan, the Prince of Wakanda is also seeking to incorporate the MEF into his public education platform. I was just explaining to him Moira’s research on the increased rate of mutant births on his continent.”

The taller man turned hazel-brown eyes to Logan, nodding politely before replying, “Yes, and I was just thanking Ambassador Xavier for his work in Africa for mutants. Our future Queen especially has taken up the mantle of liaison between mutants and non-mutants.”

“Your majesty.” Logan was slightly embarrassed at having ignored the woman beside the Prince, believing she was a member of his private detail.

His action elicited a chuckle from T’Challa, which raised Logan’s eyebrow as he brought his head back up. Motioning to the woman, he corrected, “I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply...Allow me to introduce the head of my security detail: Khaji?”

She looked at Logan first, and Logan only, her stormy, dark grey eyes piercing him. He didn’t think mistaking her for royalty would get him daggers like she was throwing, and he blinked a couple times in question before she turned to Charles, her expression changing and she bowed deeply.

The prince looked from Logan to Charles as he elaborated, “Unfortunately, our Queen was unable to make the trip, but I’m sure”“

“Still making apologies for me, T’Challa?”

As the prince looked past Logan, smiling brightly, Khaji knelt to one knee, muttering something in a foreign language before getting back to her feet. Charles turned in his chair at the smooth, slightly accented voice, bowing his head in respect.

Logan couldn’t move.

The Wakandan prince moved past them, laughing as he took the woman’s hands, kissing them briefly. [I thought you couldn’t make it. How did you get here?]

She smiled up at him, [On the jet stream, if you must know. Just don’t tell anyone I had to create my own.]

T’Challa chuckled, squeezing her hands. [You’re absolutely beautiful tonight.]

She smiled her thanks as he turned to address Charles. “Forgive my manners, Ambassador. Allow me to introduce…”

As T’Challa’s shoulder moved from blocking her view, Ororo’s face faltered immediately, catching sight of the man standing a few feet behind her fiancée as he finally turned slowly toward her.

“…my fiancée and future Queen of the Wakanda-Kenya Alliance: Ororo.”

She didn’t even hear Xavier say anything, as her eyes met and locked with Logan’s. There was a rumble of thunder overhead and the lights flickered just a little before the atmosphere suddenly cleared itself as if nothing had happened.

The drink in Logan’s hands nearly fell from his fingers before he put a chokehold on it, almost breaking the glass. A few drops of Scotch spilled, unnoticed, as he kept his eyes on her, wide with disbelief.

For her part, Ororo had already slipped with the thunder display, but no one appeared to have noticed it too much, as the level of conversation maintained its volume. She felt T’Challa’s hand at her back, pressing her toward the man in the wheel chair, but her feet stayed rooted in place on the polished floor. She could feel her control slipping, her heart rate elevated, as his eyes burned holes through to her very soul. She felt as naked and vulnerable as the first time they’d taken each other in the desert.

The raw, unbridled emotions that had passed between them then were just as real & potent now, as they stood face to face for the ‘First’ time. Unbidden, the exact same thought passed through both their minds simultaneously:


Holy Fuck.




TBC…





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