Chapter Eleven: Innocence Lost
Speechless and frozen
Uncomfortable silence again
What did I do to make a scene so gory?
I’m no better than the ones before me
I’m in the middle of a break down
Watching you scream
In the middle of a break down
Screaming at me
~Hinder
The flight was swift and relatively uneventful. Aside from polite questions about his impending fatherhood, the younger X-Men were quiet. Getting up at four in the morning always put a damper on the day, especially for youngsters keen on sleeping in.
Logan adjusted the collar of his leather uniform as he moved down the thick metal ramp. They had landed the newly redone jet “ named the Blackbird now “ just south of Boston. The mutant they searched for would be only a few blocks away, according to the coordinates Kitty sent them a few moments before they landed.
He wanted to dwell on the warm glow that ‘Ro’s pregnancy had given him, but life would not allow that, of course. There was always some emergency, someone in trouble, something taking him away from his lover and their unborn child. He smiled slightly, thinking of that steady heartbeat and undeniable scent that consumed his days now.
“Stay close,” Wolverine ordered Iceman and Colossus. “Eyes open.”
They nodded silently, each alert for signs of danger. Logan reigned in his wandering thoughts, shoving Ororo and the baby out of his mind so he could concentrate on work. This was his place now, an X-Man, a teacher, a father.
He had to force the smirk to leave his face. If he kept strutting around, Storm was likely to fry his adamantium ass.
Dropping to a crouch, Logan put his nose to the ground and sniffed. He frowned almost immediately, motioning for the boys to stop just behind him. Wolverine’s sensitive nostrils never lied; he had learned to trust his instincts over the years.
“Gun powder,” he explained. “A dozen men, one woman. She’s afraid.”
The low, unmistakable hum of Colossus covering his body with that super-strong steel mingled with the less familiar “icing up” from Bobby. Logan closed his eyes, concentrating on his hearing to locate the missing mutant girl and whomever she was with.
Voices. Muffled and faint, he caught the sound from just to the left.
“Inside,” Wolverine pointed, standing to take the lead. “Careful, we don’t know what we’re up against.”
Each of the abandoned buildings bore signs of recent fire damage, likely due to the massive brush fire that had erupted in Missouri late last year. The small suburb was largely derelict now, wasting away while it’s former residents relocated to safer havens.
Colossus gently shouldered the building’s door open, allowing Logan inside once the decaying wood was cracked. He stepped inside silently, awaiting the voices and scents he searched for. Inside the vacant home was the stench of rot and death. Logan sent up a prayer to a God he didn’t know if he believed in. Life was different when you had something to go home to.
“Come on, Connor!” One gruff male voice said with something akin to a whine. “If we don’t hurry up, we’ll end up facing the mutie bastards.”
Logan snarled softly.
“Why don’t you do it?” responded a slightly nasal second male.
“Cuz the boss told you to.” A handgun’s slide clicked loudly.
Wolverine silently motioned for Colossus and Iceman to take positions opposite him, ready to rush the room at his command. Both boys looked unafraid, their trials with Stryker and at Alcatraz having toughened up the young bucks. Logan felt a twinge of sadness to see youth so quickly stolen away.
He shook his head. Damn, the impending birth of his child was already making him soft.
“P-Please…” came a teary female voice. Wolverine scowled. She couldn’t have been very old, a teenager at the most. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Shut her up,” barked a third male voice.
Logan crouched in the dim hallway, inhaling the scents of the men in the next room. Once he was relatively certain he knew where their enemies were standing, he motioned for his young companions to follow him.
At the sound of a sharp smack, Logan roared. He rushed the room, flanked by his furious companions.
Inside what appeared to be an old den kneeled a girl of perhaps sixteen. Her azure eyes locked onto Logan’s as he skidded to a halt. There were several men surrounding her bound form, one of them with a nickel-plated pistol poised at her temple.
“Help me,” the girl pleaded, tearing at Logan’s heart.
Snikt! Six blades of deadly adamantium sprang from his hands, which immediately clenched into fists. Colossus growled from beside him and he could feel the air chill as Iceman drew in cold from the air around them.
“Don’t move,” said the barking voice from before.
“Let her go, bub, or I’ll rip you apart.”
The man holding the pistol smirked. Logan snarled.
BANG!
“NO!”
His scream had come too late. Blood and gray matter sprayed the room as light left the cobalt eyes that begged for Logan to save her. The young girl slumped over, dead before she hit the dirty floor.
Before Wolverine could process what had just happened, Iceman and Colossus sprang into action. Like a force of nature, the two fell on the murderous soldiers. Ice flew and steel met flesh. Logan dove into the fray, his claws sinking into the chest of the first bastard he could reach.
Her eyes would haunt him forever. Logan kept the image of her pleading face in front of his mind’s eye as the three X-Men destroyed her killers. He didn’t know why they had done it or for what reason, but it scarcely mattered. They had killed a child in cold blood. That was a sin no priest could absolve.
Wolverine would never remember the battle or the faces of the men he killed. He would never clearly recall Colossus restraining him. He would, however, clearly recollect pulling the limp body of the stolen child into his arms, screaming rage and torment into the stillness.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her honey-blonde hair. “I’m sorry, kid.”
How long he remained that way was a mystery, but he released the girl’s body gently. After cutting the metal handcuffs that restrained her arms, he almost lovingly placed her in an abandoned bed, covering her body with a blanket. Colossus and Iceman said nothing, their faces reflecting righteousness in a way that should have made him proud. But all he could see was the girl’s eyes and the light leaving them so swiftly.
“Get their wallets,” he said gruffly to his companions. “Anything that might tell us who they were.”
“Uh,” Bobby said uncertainly. “I think I have the answer there.”
He handed Logan a shredded camouflage jacket. To Wolverine’s dismay, it bore the symbol of the United States Army, Special Forces. Looking back to his companions, Logan shook his head.
“Fuck.”
~**~
Ororo grinned into the mirror when she heard the wail of the jet descending into its place beneath the basketball court. Deciding she didn’t care if her hair was wet, she grabbed a heavy bathrobe and hurried out of the bedroom. Relief flooded her at knowing Logan was all right. Worry had made her stomach unsettled, which sent her to the bathroom twice during his absence.
Tossing a greeting to the children she passed, Ororo moved to the elevator, waiting patiently when she noticed it was already moving toward the upper levels of the mansion. A warm, welcoming smile curved her mouth as she hoped for good news.
That hope was dashed the moment the elevator doors opened.
One look at Logan’s face told her all she would ever need to know. Her heart ached, skipping several beats when she noted the blood stains on his hands. Without so much as a glance toward her, Logan brushed past her, heading for the stairs.
Shocked at his callous dismissal, Ororo gave immediate chase. He was not running from her anymore. If that meant she had to shock his adamantium ass, so be it.
She followed her troubled lover up the stairs and into their room, closing the door quietly behind her. Logan was in the bathroom; she could see him shedding his leather uniform through the open door. Waiting, Ororo tied the robe about her more securely, watching as Logan donned a pair of sweats and washed his hands.
He came out several minutes later, his face screwed into what should have been a terrifying scowl. One of his hands ran through the wolfish peaks of his hair as he searched the top of his dresser for an unsmoked cigar.
Ororo tilted her head, regarding him openly. She had limited options in dealing with the Wolverine. Without a doubt, she knew that he would not hurt her. Even if she did not possess the scent of his child, she knew he would never harm her.
Starting an argument was likely what he hoped for. He could easily push her away with angry words, find an excuse to pull back. It would be very easy to let him do so, to step back and allow him to wallow in whatever demons had found him on this mission. Ororo tossed the notion aside instantly. Logan didn’t need anger. Craving violence only reminded him of the guilt she could sense in him.
She decided a moment later that he needed something more. Moving across the room to him, she ignored his growled warning, an animalistic caution to back away. Storm blatantly overlooked the gesture, stepping up directly behind the man that was quickly stealing her heart. He stiffened, but she was persistent.
Wiggling her arms around his waist, she molded her chest to his back, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Ororo willed herself to relax against him, opening her completely to him without caution or concern. She kissed his bare shoulder, inhaling the sweaty male scent of him with a small smile on her face.
It took several moments before Logan reacted. Tension seeped out of his muscles and one of his hands came up to rest on hers. He leaned back as though silently basking in the support she was offering, even if it bewildered the self-proclaimed long wolf. Ororo continued too hold him, wondering if he had ever allowed someone to just be there for him, through heaven and hell.
He turned to her slowly, keeping her arms around him. His eyes met hers, filled with guilt and sorrow. The sight of him so torn shredded what remained of Ororo’s heart. She gripped him more tightly, as though she could tether him to the world all by herself. Unwilling to let go, she felt her heart skip when Logan lowered his forehead to touch hers, his eyes closing as he breathed deeply.
“I couldn’t save her,” he said at last, in a whisper filled with mourning.
Horrified by the implication of those four whispered words, Ororo shushed Logan gently. Tugging him closer, she wrapped him into her arms, winding her hands around his neck to keep him close.
Ororo tugged him toward her, walking them toward the bed. They fell onto the soft blue duvet, Logan pulling her into his arms without pause. She touched his face with tender, exploring fingers, somehow wanting him to realize she was with him, she would remain no matter what horrors had befallen the X-Men in Boston.
He stared at her, unguarded and surprised, watching as her hands traced every line of his face.
“Why are you so good to me?” Logan whispered.
She shrugged, smiling slightly. “I care for you.”
Logan’s dark eyes caught hers, holding the gaze across the scant space that separated them.
“I love you.” His whisper was honest, cutting through to her heart and making her eyes sting with tears. “I love you, ‘Ro.”
Unable to articulate the words in response, afraid that her love for their child might be clouding what was truly in her heart, Ororo leaned forward to kiss him. If he caught the hesitation, he didn’t comment, choosing to let the moment fall away.
Oh, she thought while her heart stuttered. He loves me. Wolverine loves me.
Logan drew her back into his arms, one hand resting on her flat belly, where their baby rested comfortably. She smiled against his lips, adoring the tenderness in his touch. He growled playfully, covering her body slightly with his. Ororo giggled girlishly, pressing at his shoulders as she remembered her check up with Henry.
She would fret about the mutant girl another time. Logan needed something good to hold on to, lest he be lost to guilt once more.
“Wait,” Ororo breathed, reaching over to the nightstand. “I got something for you.”
“Huh?” He sighed, dropping his head to her chest. “Can’t we just have wild, crazy sex and call it a day?”
Ororo laughed merrily, fishing the small box wrapped in green paper. She handed it to him, sitting against the headboard to watch as he looked at the gift as though it would bite him. Had anyone ever given him a gift before?
He tore into the paper a moment later, his expression turning unreadable the moment he noticed what was so carefully wrapped inside. Ororo held her breath, watching his face cautiously for any signs that he was displeased.
The photograph of their unborn child was placed lovingly into a wooden frame. She had carved the date into the bottom of the frame, titling the picture “Baby’s First Photo”. Logan reached up, touching the glass gently, his expression suddenly reverent and tender.
“That’s…?”
“Yes,” she replied to his whisper. “That’s our baby.”
“Holy shit,” Logan breathed, glancing between the frame and her belly. “He’s so little.”
Ororo chuckled silently. “Trish said the same thing.”
Logan set the frame on his nightstand, turning it so he could see it from the bed. He pulled Ororo back into his arms, settling them against the pillows as she curled into his warm embrace. Logan thanked her with a kiss, his arms winding around her until she was putty in his hands. She thought, with emotion choking her throat, that Logan had finally realized he held his family when they embraced this way.
Oh yes, horror could wait for another day.
~**~
Three weeks following the terrible mission to Boston found Storm and Wolverine watching the ten o’clock news with Beast in the main sitting room of the mansion. Hank was due to return to Washington shortly, so the trio could almost always be found together in the last days of the Ambassador’s sabbatical.
Henry watched the other couple with something like bittersweet happiness welling in his chest. Ororo looked far happier than he could ever remember seeing her. She idly rubbed her pregnant belly as she lounged in the safety of her lover’s embrace.
Logan, for his part, sipped a beer with one arm tossed carelessly over his beloved’s shoulder. The two looked comfortable together, as though the state of “togetherness” was simply the way things had always been and the way they would ever remain. Henry envied that assurance, the security that came with knowing where one belonged.
He was finding that sense for himself more and more elusive as the weeks dragged by. Though he loved his work in Washington, there was always something so homey about returning to the mansion. Xavier had given him a place to belong after years of self exile in a world he feared would never understand him.
The need to give back to that dream, to the man lost in the tides of battle, pulled him a little more every day. He found himself fascinated by his former fiancée and how she managed the school she had once attended herself. Though she had found an ally and partner in the feral Wolverine, she did a majority of the work alone. He was needed here and in Washington.
Hank grumbled to himself. He would pay good money to return to the days when decisions were simple.
“Hey, Furball?” Logan questioned suddenly, using the nickname Hank secretly enjoyed.
“Yes?” He answered, watching Ororo itch her stomach.
“You up for some Danger Room before we call it a night?”
“Ooh,” Ororo said with a grin. “Can I play as well?”
“No!” Both mutant men said in unison, glaring at her.
Storm pouted prettily. “You boys have all the fun.”
“Baby makin’ ain’t fun?” Logan asked, raising a dark brow.
“Oh yes,” she rolled her eyes heavenward. “The constant nausea, backaches, breast tenderness…”
“Hey! Watch what you’re sayin’ in front of the former boyfriend,” Logan said as he crushed his beer can.
“It is nothing I have not seen before,” Hank chimed in, determined to get Wolverine’s goat.
“Hey!”
“Actually,” Ororo continued to tease her child’s father. “They’re bigger now.”
“I assure you, I noticed.” Hank gave her a friendly leer.
They both dissolved into laughter when Logan covered her chest with his hands, glaring from his lover to the blue mutant with playful anger.
“You two shut up. I mean it.” Logan admonished. “Or I’m tellin’ Trishy.”
“Oh no,” Storm put a hand to her forehead dramatically. “Anything but that!”
The woman winked at him, settling into her lover’s arms again. Hank finally answered Logan that he would, in fact, enjoy a decent Danger Room session after the news report. The other mutant nodded as he opened another beer.
Hank settled back in his chair, his gaze flickering back to the screen. He missed his beloved Patricia, more so than he really wanted to let on. The woman had gone tearing off back to Washington upon learning what had happened to the X-Men team in Boston. She was certain that the Special Forces Logan had disposed of belonged to Bolivar Trask.
The woman went with her gut in all things. She’d packed her bags, kissed Hank rather seriously, and darted back into the fray. Nothing could stop that woman when she was on a roll and judging from the overly excited phone call the mansion had received several hours ago, she was definitely on one hell of a roll.
But he missed her. Oh, how he missed his beloved Trish.
“There she is,” Logan said a moment later, setting his beer down.
Hank sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as Patricia’s lovely face came onto the screen. She seemed to be standing in the main lobby of the Pentagon. Her long dark hair was swept up from her face, her eyes reserved and serious. Hank frowned, wishing she were not so very far away.
“Thank you, Mitch,” her clear, authorities voice rang through the invisible microphone attached to her lapel.
“Secretary Bolivar Trask has spent the last two weeks under fire here at the Pentagon. His policies regarding treatment of mutant prisoners has been called into question by many, including the President himself.”
“Hey, Ro,” Logan whispered. “Remind me to never make that woman mad at me.”
She swatted at him familiarly, giving Trish her undivided attention.
“Trask’s views on mutants and mutant criminals have always been somewhat more reserved than most here in Washington. He even supported a Registration Act that could have given the government the right to terminate any mutant deemed too powerful.”
“Trish,” Hank whispered, worry clutching his heart. “Careful now, my dear.”
“Though the bill was never passed, Trask’s vehement disregard for mutant lives has been the subject of much recent debate. Has the Secretary gone too far? Many have said, yes. While Secretary Trask has made many powerful friends on Capitol Hill, others have stepped in to put a stop to the man’s tyrannical one-man crusade against mutants.”
“Nicely said,” Ororo approved quietly.
Hank felt dread grip his very soul. He resisted the sudden, powerful urge to call Trish, to ensure she was safe. The impulse was squashed quickly.
“Just this afternoon, a committee hearing was held in regards to the Secretary’s brutal tactics. This is following the grisly discovery of a young mutant woman in Boston. The girl, only fifteen years old, was killed execution style. Sources have linked the senseless murder to the taskforce Trask has led for the last six months.”
“Oh hell,” Logan whispered. “She’s throwin’ the gloves off.”
“The press was not allowed into the meeting but…”
Trish stopped as the sound of a bullet echoed from the microphone. Her eyes went wide with fear and pain, even as several people screamed in the background. Papers fell from her manicured hands as the cameraman promptly dropped the camera.
Hank was on his feet, roaring and weeping in the same instant. He dimly heard Wolverine shoo Storm from the room as his heart broke all over the mansion’s floor.
“TRISH!”
The screen flickered, showing two very shaken anchors as they tried to distract the public from a live shooting. Beast roared again, pain gripping his soul as his brain processed what he had just seen. They had shot his beautiful Patricia. Had they killed her?
Lust for murder brought a coppery taste to the back of his throat, this inhuman rage alien to the normally docile Hank. Beast turned with hatred in his eyes, noticing Ororo hovering in the doorway and Wolverine between them.
Snikt!
“Don’t do it, man,” Wolverine snarled. “Calm the fuck down!”
Beast roared.
“Don’t make me put you down, Hank!”
With no thought as to the consequences, the Beast lunged for the Wolverine.
