“Your voice ain’t half bad.” The subtle rumble to his voice told her he had just woken.
Ororo turned. Logan stood directly behind her, comfortably leaning against the ornately carved hall cabinet, his hair, always disheveled was still rumpled from sleep. She bestowed him a brilliant smile. “Good Morning, Logan. Sleep well?”
Logan considered that question for a moment, mildly surprised by his own answer. “Like a log,” he admitted.
Ororo chuckled. “After that long drive and then me making you lug Christmas decorations all afternoon, it’s no wonder.” It had taken them the better part of the afternoon and evening to lug, haul and set up the lights, nick-knacks and ornate lawn decorations. The students had helped, as had Hank, but between snowball fights, lunches, business calls and various other “to-do’s” people had, the bulk of the work had been done by Logan and Ororo.
She had been pleasantly surprised to find herself truly enjoying his company. Logan had a quirky sense of humor that he rarely showed, she found out. Besides being a hard worker. He had continued to organize and set up even after exhaustion had made her a heap on one of the grand wingchairs.
“Guess not,” he shrugged, uncrossing his arms. He took in her attire: winter boots, worn jeans, thick cable sweater, wool hat and suede gloves in hand. She looked like a woman on a mission. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
She started walking again, as if his question had prompted her, heading for the front foyer. “The tree,” she told him over her shoulder.
“All by yourself?”
“Hank and Peter are headed to the boathouse shed to get the ornaments and lights. They’re going to meet me in awhile when they’re done. There‘s some coffee and snack cakes in the kitchen if your hungry. I shouldn‘t be long.” She tugged off her hat, readjusting it. Her stark white hair shimmered in the early morning sunlight filtering through the large bay window, it’s luminosity creating a halo effect around her face.
Something kicked in Logan’s gut. “Want an extra pair of hands?” he offered.
Ororo blinked, surprised, but immensely pleased with the offer. “Absolutely. That is, if you’re up for it.”
He cocked his head, gray eyes wicked. “That some sort of challenge, darlin’?”
She laughed, soft and throaty and once more he felt a pull in his stomach…and lower.
“Not a challenge so much as I want you to know exactly what you’re getting yourself into. We don’t just cut down any old tree, Logan, it has to be the perfect one. This process takes time, patience. Not things that you’re exactly renowned for,” she reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. I think I can pick out a decent tree, ‘Ro. I’ve been around enough of ‘em.”
She tugged her cap back on her head and immediately he found himself missing the shock of snow colored tresses. He almost asked her to take her hat off again. Almost.
“I’m sure you can. But it’s not up to you…or me for that matter,” she informed him as she opened the door.
“Ok, ya got me. So, how, exactly then are we gonna pick this perfect tree?”
“We don’t. It picks us.”
Logan gave her a look. “You gone mental?”
“No.” She tossed him another blinding smile. “Just trust me.” She stepped onto the porch. “Besides, it’s tradition.”
Logan groaned. He had heard that exact statement about a hundred times the other day. Each time it had been uttered, some arduous, pain in the ass task had to be done. He shook his head, grabbing one of the spare jackets from the closet and following her out. “Here we go again.”
The wind was crisp with a definite bite to it, but the day couldn’t have been more lovely, Ororo thought as she and her companion trudged through the woods roughly two miles behind the school. Large, fluffy flakes began to drift from the sky. Snow sat perched along pine needle branches, glimmering in the sunlight, creating an almost otherworldly feel around them.
The back woods were one of her favorite locations on the grounds. Away from the hustle and bustle, noise and demands. It was peaceful. Serene. Quiet.
“Trees talkin’ to ya yet, Storm?” Logan asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She scrunched her nose, blushing a bit at being caught off in la-la land. She held her arms aloft and closed her eyes. Snowflakes swirled in a flowing spiral up and around her body before filtering away and out, almost like wings or an outstretched hand. “Mmmhmm.”
“Anyone of ‘em in a hurry to be chopped down.” He dug the ax into the snow, rubbing his hands together. His healing factor kept him from freezing, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take a chill. He blew into his cupped palms. “You know, with your obsession with plants, I woulda figured you for the fake tree type.”
Ororo shrugged and opened her eyes. “That’s why I choose the tree.” She inclined her head, as though actually listening to the firs and pines. “It has to be one that is in need to be chopped.” She clenched the tip of her glove between her teeth, tugging the Isotoner from her slender fingers. “A tree in need of relief.”
The look Logan gave her told her that he wasn’t altogether certain of her mental state after all. She puffed out a small breath, watching the tendrils of steam for a second before elaborating. “When a tree dies, it’s a long process. I can…feel it’s pain…”
One dark brow rose. “You feel it?”
“Here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not crazy. Everything in life is connected, Logan. The trees to the land, and water, the water to the sky, and all of it to each other. There is as much a connection between nature and man as mother to child.” She tilted her head back, letting the swirling snowflakes fall onto her closed lashes. When she lifted her head her warm brown eyes were ringed arctic white, a sign of turbulent emotions. “I can feel these trees, and their pain, as clearly as I can feel yours.”
That one caught him off guard. “I ain’t in any pain.”
“Maybe not physically.”
“Maybe not at all,” he grumbled, irritated. “No psycho babble, Storm. Just point out a tree for me to whack and we can get on our way.”
She stood quietly, regarding him. “Why are you so afraid of connection?”
He turned his face away, exhaling. “I really, really wanna knock a fuckin’ tree down. So let’s move it.”
“I do believe I mentioned patience before we came out here.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He stomped his feet, pounding down a patch of snow.
“We don’t have to talk about it--”
“There ain’t nothing’ to talk about,” he cut in, jerking the ax from the ground.
Ororo sighed, recognizing a wall when one was thrown up in front of her. “Fine.” She strode towards him, stopping just in front of him. “If you won’t talk to me, at least be honest with yourself. You came back for a reason, Logan. Whether you admit it or not, there’s a connection for you here. Even without Jean-- Without Xavier, you came back. This place, these kids…they mean something to you.”
He didn’t look at her.
“Now you’re just being stubborn.”
Still nothing.
“Ok. Fine.” She pressed the palm of her hand to one whiskered cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Maybe you don’t want to say anything. It’s scary to admit you have a heart, I know, but it’s the holidays. You can blame the sentimentality on that.”
Logan inhaled against her wrist, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
Grey eyes opened and glittered down at her. “Storm…”
Full lips parted slightly, a soft breath escaping. “Yes?”
“I’m feelin’ plenty connected right now.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, cradling her delicate jaw. “And it’s got not a damn thing to do with the holidays.”
She leaned into his touch. He bent his head.
The first feather light caress of her lips against his sent a jolt through Logan. For a brief second he wondered if her mutant power had caused it, but the almost immediate pooling of blood into his lower regions told him that wasn’t the case.
“There you are!” Hank McCoy’s rich baritone caused the two of them to spring apart as if doused with ice cold water. Logan wanted to simultaneously gut the man and thank him at once. What was he thinking? Kissing Ororo? What was wrong with him? More to the point, what the hell was wrong with her?
Logan glanced at Ororo but she had her face averted, already waving to Hank and Peter as they walked towards them.
Hank’s bright blue fur stood out like a beacon against the white backdrop. “Any luck in procuring us a Christmas tree?”
“Not so far,” Logan said, eyes still on Ororo.
“A healthy harvest of trees this year?” Hank asked.
Ororo blinked. “Hm?”
“Distracted by this beautiful weather, dear Ororo?” Hank questioned with a twinkle in his eye.
Distracted, yes. By the snow? No. “Give me a minute. I‘ll get a higher vantage point.” She took to the air, shooting upwards straight as an arrow. Logan suspected it was less to tree-hunt and more to get some space between herself and him.
“I still think it’s weird that she can feel trees,” Peter commented, watching his headmistress float above them.
“Ororo is a woman full of many special gifts.” Hank observed idly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Logan?”
Logan shifted his weight, buffering the question. “I think ’Ro doesn’t need us gossiping about her like a bunch of school girls.”
“It isn’t gossip to state the truth.” Hank responded, voice mild.
Logan had no reply for that.
Snow twirled up from the ground as Ororo landed. “I think our tree has found me.” She turned to Peter. “It’s just over that hill. It‘s rather large, so we may need the sleds.”
“Very good. Logan and I will fetch the snowmobiles while you and Peter tend the tree.” Hank offered.
“Sounds like a plan.” Logan turned, plodding his way back towards the school without another word.
Hank raised his brows at Ororo, who in turn shrugged. “Don’t look at me.”
“Oh, but I am looking at you.”
She knew then that Henry had seen her and Logan. “I don’t want a lecture.”
Her oldest friend merely smiled. “And none are forthcoming. You are quite beyond the years of needing someone to deliver cautionary lectures.”
“Oh.”
“We shall return shortly.” Hank bounded after Logan leaving Ororo staring at their retreating backs, more confused than ever.
