Winter was her favorite season.

There was something awe inspiring about the pristine beauty of freshly fallen snow across the expanse of the Great Lawn and clinging to the branches of the pines and maples dotting the yard; uncorrupted by human touch. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the tingle she received from the scent of pine sap and freshly fallen snow. The cool breeze felt good on her skin and she took a moment to savor the frosty feel of it.

Although the weather rarely affected her, during the snowy season, Ororo Munroe was often found in a warm sweater and faded blue jeans, as she was today, complete with colorful scarlet scarf and gloves. She felt cozy and relaxed as she watched the thick flakes of snow falling to the ground, casually brushing them from her lashes where they stuck.

Perhaps it had been growing up in Africa where she had never seen the wonders of the first snow or felt the purity of it in her senses, or perhaps it was the remembered fondness of sharing hot cocoa with her mentor on this very balcony, but whatever the case, Ororo welcomed winter to the Xavier Institute wholeheartedly.

The sprawling estate had been in Charles’ family for generations, and was now hers, bequeathed to her in his will, along with several million dollars to run it. The Mansion, as it was referred to by the students and staff, was on par with the most elaborate of ancient castles, complete with underground tunnels, tall turrets, hidden passages and a rich history of secrets. As large and grand as the Institute was it had never felt cold to her, or impersonal. This was her home, and she thanked the Goddess above every day that Charles had found her and taken her into his keeping.

Cupping her hands around her steaming mug, she brought the frothy cocoa to her lips, sipping slowly. There was something undeniably comforting about drinking hot chocolate on a snowy morning, she mused, taking another slow taste. Charles had once told her it was the reminiscence of childhood comforts that the drink brought forth that made it so appealing, but she had been quick to remind him that she had never indulged in the sweet drink before she had come to America, so that could not hold true for her. To that he had shrugged, adjusted his lap quilt, stared at the starry sky and falling flakes and had said, “Must be the company, then.” She would have to agree.

“Beautiful morning. Somehow I knew I could find you up here.”

Slightly startle, Ororo whirled, her face split with a wide smile. “Hank!”

She set her mug on the marble railing, reaching out to hug her friend. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until later in the week.”

Hank lifted her off of her feet, chuckling at her squeal. “I took a holiday leave. I was uncertain as to whether or not I would be able to finagle my way through all of the paperwork or not, so I decided to leave it as a surprise if I could come early.”

Taller than many men and twice as wide, Hank was an imposing figure, however, it wasn’t Henry McCoy’s impressive stature or wide girth that stopped most people in their tracks, but instead it was the blue fur and fangs that marked him as a mutant that caused the initial reactions of alarm in most. Ororo on the other hand had always found Henry’s thick fur and bear-like size to be reassuring. He was her gentle giant.

“It’s a wonderful surprise,” she assured him.

Hank set her back on her own two feet, moving to lean against the banister. His intelligent blue eyes surveyed the grounds below. “No early risers to wreak havoc upon nature’s glorious display?” he questioned. “I remember we were always the first ones out, bounding into the snowdrifts like children.” His voice, always expressive, held a hint of wistful melancholy.

Cocking her head, a mischievous smile on her face Ororo gauged the distance between the balcony and the ground. She gave Hank’s long tweed jacket and expensive suit pants an appraising look. “Is that dry clean only?” she asked lightly.

Hank blinked owlishly, any response he would have given not made as he and Ororo tumbled from the balcony into the snow below, cradled by the winds at her command. They landed with oomphs and laughter, both tossing handfuls of white powder at one another.

As if drawn from their rooms by a beacon, students began streaming from the Institute, peals of laughter and whoops echoing across the estate as snowballs flew. Hank quickly snagged Bobby Drake, having the ice wielder erect a formidable fortress to defend.

Quick as that makeshift teams were formed, Colossus joining with Ororo and Kitty on one side of the yard with Bobby and Marie aligned with Hank. Snowballs flew with purpose and peals of merriment like those of days past filled Ororo’s ears making her chest bubble with a joy she hadn’t felt in ages.

The walls of Hank’s fort began to grow, creating a semi circle, coming round towards where Ororo, kitty and Peter were huddled. “No fair!” Kitty laughed. “Bobby is snow!”

Ororo smirked, her eyes alight. “They aren’t the only ones with a trick or two up their sleeves.” Summoning her winds she shoveled the snow before her up and over the fort walls, dumping a heaping pile upon Hank, Marie and Bobby.

Shaking his great head to dislodge the crown of fluff he now adorned, Hank winked at the two youths. “Word of advice, never engage in a snow fight with a woman named Storm.”

“Mr. McCoy, I’d make it a practice not to tangle with a woman named Storm over much of anything.” Bobby replied deadpan.

Hank’s laugh was deep and felt to the other man’s toes. “Truer words have never been spoken, dear boy.” Hank grinned, peering around the ice wall. “But what is life, without the thrill of risk?” With that the blue furred mutant leapt forward, bounding across the snow and tackling the white haired headmistress of the school.

“Wretch!” Ororo laughed as she was tumbled backwards.

The sound of a gunned motorcycle engine interrupted their snow play. Ororo rolled, getting to her feet, dusting her shoulders off, watching as the front iron gates of the school parted and a silver and black custom made machine roared through the entrance and up the winding drive.

Hank came to stand beside her. “The prodigal son returns.”

“Isn’t that what they do?” Ororo asked with an amused tilt of her mouth.

“Tell me, how long has he been gone?”

“He left two days after Alcatraz.” Ororo answered.

“He left you here with no help for seven months?”

Six months and twenty one days, but who was counting? “I handled it.”

“Of course you did.” Hank said, patting her on the back companionably. “But it’s the principle.”

One shoulder lifted in an easy shrug. “To cage him would be more harmful than helpful.”

Hank’s gaze grew speculative. “I didn‘t realize you and he were close.”

“As close as he let’s anyone get, I imagine.” She clapped her hands, shaking the remaining snow free, dismissing the subject. “Now, where were we?” She turned, her smile wicked.

Hank took a hasty step back, realizing he was in significant danger of becoming a furry ice cycle. “Don’t you want to greet Logan?”

Ororo glanced at the garage entrance where the man in question was pulling in. “Growly knows his way.” Her eyes turned a frosty shade of white.

Hank took off with a baritone whoop.

***


Logan killed the engine, stretching his stiff muscles. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, his eyes on the ceiling as he yawned. On the road for 36 hours straight and now he was back at Xavier’s. He had expected to feel uncomfortable, sad, or angry to say the least upon his arrival, but, truth be told, it felt damn good pulling through those front gates.

He unstrapped his duffle, swinging it over his shoulder as he dismounted. Making his way to the elevator of the underground garage Logan noticed that the design had been changed a bit. The vehicles were lined up, not by owner as they had been before, but, by apparent usefulness. Civilian cars, and sports cars were on the left, SUV’s, Jeeps and Hummers on the right with the four-- five now-- motorcycles in the rear nearest the elevator. Logan could understand why. Without Jean, Scott or Xavier, then all the vehicles had only one owner and leaving them the other way only served as a reminder of what had been lost.

As the elevator doors silently slid open he half expected to be tackled by Marie, but the foyer was completely empty. The scent of fresh coffee from the kitchen told him that someone was around. “’Ro?” he called, dropping his bag near the door. No answer. He stomped through the corridors towards the back of the mansion. He had seen some kids playing outside, maybe she was watching over them.

The back yard was a war zone.

Logan leaned his arm against one of the white columns, watching as fast flying snowballs flew like lobbed grenades. There was activity all around, the kind of like he had only ever seen when he had first arrived at Xavier’s--back before the Stryker attack and the cure. He mulled that over in his mind as he watched the young mutant children and some non mutant kids play. They had been through the wringer, had their mentor and guide murdered, lost their teachers, their friends…and yet, here they were--laughing and playing.

Not a man accustomed to sentimentality, Logan shook off his thoughts, searching the patio for any sign of Ororo. Finding none, his gaze wandered the yard.

“If you’re looking for Storm she’s over there.”

Logan turned, facing a youth he’d seen grow over the past few years from child to teen. “Artie.” Logan acknowledged with a cursory grunt.

Artie smiled before rushing out into the yard to join the fray.

Logan turned in the direction Artie had pointed, his mouth nearly falling open to see “Stick-up-her-ass-Storm”, as he was known to refer to her as--at least when she wasn’t in earshot, rolling around in the snow, making what appeared to be snow angels. He shook his head. No way.

“Logan!”

A familiar southern voice reached his ears. He braced for impact as Marie came running towards the steps, but to his surprise, and somewhat disappointment she stopped a few feet from where he stood, seeming content to simply smile at him. “Hey, kid,” he greeted.

“Did you just get back?”

He gestured at his rugged and disheveled appearance and she laughed. “Ok, dumb question.” She turned her attention from him to the snow for a moment. “Sticking around for more than a minute this time?”

Ouch. “If it suits me,” he answered vaguely.

“Hm.” Marie cocked her head, her look contemplative. “Is it always about you?” she asked, echoing Magneto’s words from what felt like forever ago.

The words pricked a nerve. “Hey, I just rolled in. How about you pretend you’re glad to see me and stop with the interrogation.”

For a moment a look of hurt crossed her delicate features, but she shook it off with her usual aplomb and said, “Well, it’s good to have you back.” She smiled, bounced off the steps and left him alone.

“Great,” he muttered. “Back five minutes and I’m already acting like an ass.”

“Charming as ever I see.”

Logan cocked a brow at the large blue man hanging upside down from the roof. “Furball.”

“Growly.”

That made him blink. “Growly?”

Hank grinned, his teeth remarkably white against his indigo fur. “I’m rather fond of Ororo’s nickname for you.”

Double blink. “’Ro calls me Growly?”

“Among other things I am certain.” Hank was enjoying this.

Logan snorted. Of all the ridiculous… “Growly?”

Hank laughed, whapping Logan on the back as he somersaulted from the roof. “It could be worse, dear boy. It could be worse.”

“What’d I tell you about callin’ me boy?”

Hank shrugged. “I believe entrails were mentioned, but I tend to tune you out.”

“Hnh.”

“Indeed.”

After a few minutes Logan, who was watching as Ororo took to the air and assailed the students with a whirlwind of snow, asked, “What’s she doing out there? Some sort of training exercise.”

This earned a chuckle from Hank. “I do believe Ororo is playing.”

“Hnh.”

“Conversation with you is simply titillating.”

“I ain’t much for talkin’.”

“No doubt.”

“You gonna stand here all day and make satirical jabs at me, blue boy?”

“As delightfully invigorating as that sounds, no.” Hank clapped his shoulder. “Come, I just brewed some fresh coffee when I got here. Join me?”

“I gotta let ‘Ro know I’m here.”

“She knows.”

That gave Logan pause. “She does?”

“Watched you ride through the gates on your chariot of steel and gas.”

“Hnh.” And she hadn’t come to greet him or lecture him that his place was there, with them? He tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment he felt at that, not entirely understanding why he was longing for a harp-fest from Ororo.

“Come, let us partake of my Kona brew.”

Logan followed Henry back into the mansion, but couldn’t help but cast a look over his shoulder as he did. Ororo was standing, covered in snow, her smile as bright as the sun. Sensing his eyes on her she looked up and waved.

Closing the door behind him Logan’s steps were lighter.





You must login () to review.