Chapter Five: Broken
I can't say that I'm not lost
And at fault
I can't say that I don't
Love the light and the dark
I can't say that I don't
Know that I am alive
And I love what I feel
I could show you tonight
~Nelly Furtado
“Stay here.”
Ororo looked at her friend as though he had gone utterly mad. “Are you insane?”
They both startled a little at hearing the large French doors open and slam shut. Storm leaped from Hank’s lap, scrambling to stand up and make herself presentable. Though her heart had just been laid bare before Beast, she would not let Logan see it.
All she wanted him to see was calm, aloof, cold.
Hank stood as well, apparently heedless to the secondary doors creaking open as he grabbed her biceps in his massive hands. His touch demanded that Ororo meet his icy blue gaze. What she found in Hank’s eyes momentarily stunned and terrified her. Anger so white-hot it nearly burned her was clearly written in those usually kind blue pools. She wondered, for a moment, whether or not Logan would survive this meeting.
“Stay out of this, Ororo,” Hank demanded of her. “I mean it.”
“Hank,” Ororo shook her head, unaware of how close she was standing to her big, blue friend. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Heavy footfalls came to a halt in the entryway of the sitting room. Ororo’s eyes slammed shut at the crash of a duffel hitting the pristine hardwood floor.
“What’s goin’ on here?”
Four words. Logan’s tone was razor sharp, the unspoken innuendo crackling in the open air. Ororo felt Hank tense, his hands slowly releasing her arms.
“Does it really matter, Wolverine?”
“Got a problem, Furball?”
Swallowing over the lump steadily forming in her throat, Ororo forced her eyes to open. She immediately wished she had simply kept them closed.
Logan stood, dirty and rumpled, in the entryway, a lit cigar hanging loosely from one hand. Hank, for his part, stood unmoved in the center of the room, glaring at Logan for all he was worth. Ororo realized too late that she was about to be at the center of a mutation-fueled pissing contest.
Both animalistic men seemed casual to the outside observer, but the woman standing between them knew better. Feral, predatory, and poised for immediate action, they were sizing one another up, mentally cataloguing weaknesses and strengths for the upcoming battle. It reminded Storm of rams during mating season, though she knew this clash was likely to be far more violent than a simple, to the point head-butting.
Ororo put her hand to Hank’s arm, trying to stay this lunacy before it got too far. A low, nearly inaudible growl sounded from the doorway the instant Ororo’s fingers grazed her friend’s fur. As though in answer, Hank bared his sharp canines, an open invitation for violence.
“You, my boy, are incredibly late.”
Rage flashed in Logan’s eyes. He looked to Ororo, and then back to Hank when she merely stared at him. He lifted the cigar, drawing in a lungful of thick, sweet smoke.
“What’d I tell you about callin’ me ‘boy’?”
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Hank roughly pushed Ororo out of harm’s way as he rushed at the awaiting Wolverine. Snikt! Six adamantium claws escaped confinement, waiting for Beast’s assault. Ororo landed in a heap on the hearth, narrowly avoiding the singeing flames. She scrambled to her feet as both her past and her present vanished into the foyer.
“Logan! Hank! Stop this!”
Neither of them paid her any mind as the clash of two feral mutants sang through the foyer. Logan’s smaller body caught Beast’s and they tumbled through the glass of the doors. The sound of splintering wood and the tinkling of glass rained through the hall, heralding all that was to come. Ororo, crying for Piotr and Bobby, chased them into the lawn while ludicrously thinking she would have to get the front door repaired. Again.
Clouds broke overhead, locked in ancient harmony with the roiling thunder. Rain soaked the earth as Logan and Hank circled one another like jungle cats on the expansive lawn. Ororo tripped over the broken glass and splintered wood, trying in vain to stop this madness before it could go further.
With ferocious snarls, the two mutants flew at one another again. Ororo instinctively covered her eyes, not wanting to see the insanity before her. One of them “ she could no longer tell which without looking “ howled. The other replied with a low, almost sinister roar.
Morbid curiosity opened her eyes to the melee again.
Beast and Wolverine stood toe to toe in the thick darkness. Their legs covered in mud, rain soaking them until Beast turned black they met blow for blow. Ororo pulled up short several meters from them, watching the titanic collision with something akin to awe.
She blinked the fat, heavy raindrops from her eyes, too stunned to even attempt reining in the tempestuous elements. When Bobby and Piotr appeared scant seconds later, she held out both arms to keep them from rushing into battle.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a long-forgotten conversation with Charles flittered to the surface. He had said, during her training so many years ago, that men would never come to blows with a man they cared nothing for. Only when emotions “ love or hatred “ became involved would true and horrifying violence ensue.
In that one, fleeting instant, Ororo understood Hank. It was not her honor he fought for, though he likely thought it was. Not even her heart and hurt could claim they had pushed the Beast into battle. No. It was nothing like that.
Hank had welcomed Logan into his life, into the lives of the X-Men with open arms. He told Ororo, on no uncertain terms, that he trusted Logan to take care of things. And for a year, Logan had proved Hank correct at every turn.
She understood his need to leave, to just be for a little while. Though it still hurt that Logan had abandoned her, she knew his wanderlust was as much a part of him as adamantium.
Henry, on the other hand, only saw abandonment.
“No,” Ororo ordered her younger men softly. “Let them fight. When it gets out of hand, we’ll take steps.”
“You sure?” Bobby said, his hands cracking as ice formed over them.
“She knows what is best.” Piotr replied, though his dark eyes showed indecision.
“Just stay on your toes, boys.”
The sickening thud of blows landing on flesh made Ororo’s stomach churn unpleasantly. A metallic ring echoed every time Logan’s adamantium skeleton received a blow. It was apparent, in just moments that they were evenly matched.
Though Logan’s advanced healing and super-strong skeleton were formidable, he was having a hard time getting Hank to stand still long enough to hit. Her blue friend bounced and flipped, managing to stay just out of reach of those deadly claws while still getting a shot or two in.
Frustration was making Logan even angrier and it showed in the dark flash of his eyes. He growled, his teeth gnashing together in ferocious rage. He got a good shot in, catching Beast’s face with his adamantium-laced arm.
Hank fell back, but was on his feet and out of range in an instant. Ororo grabbed on to both Bobby and Piotr’s shirts, keeping them from moving forward. She feared that in the confusion, one of her students might be hurt inadvertently.
A beat later, Logan’s claws came an inch from Hank’s chest and Ororo’s blood ran cold.
“All right,” she released the boys. “That is enough.”
In seconds, metal-covered Colossus and frozen Iceman dashed onto the lawn. Ororo, for her part, allowed the stinging sensation to overcome her eyes as she allowed the winds to lift her. She spun, creating her signature mini-cyclone and dashed into the fray.
The two fighting ferals ignored the sudden ice slick beneath their feet and the looming presence of a metallic man. They were only concerned with each other, even heedless to the biting Arctic winds Ororo unleashed on the formerly manicured lawns.
Deciding enough was truly enough as the men turned to one another again with murder in their eyes, she directed her winds to the battle until she hovered over them like a force of nature. Then she landed, with perfect precision, in the center of Beast and Wolverine.
They both halted dead in their tracks, neither of them willing to hurt her. She held both arms up, her eyes glowing white while her body crackled with electricity.
“Both of you,” she bellowed as an angry mother to unruly children. “Inside. NOW!”
“But…”
“’Ro…”
“I SAID NOW!”
~**~
He sat on a barstool, like a chastised child, watching while she bandaged up the furry mutant sitting placidly at the kitchen table. Her strong, feminine hands worked quickly and without any hint of tenderness or remorse.
They had obviously ticked her off.
Logan kept his eyes on them, straining to hear any snippet of conversation. There was none, however, as she had not said a word since ordering them back into the house. She’d slammed around the kitchen for a while, gathering supplies to clean Beast’s wounds.
He’d tried to not feel slightly annoyed that she had not even spared his injuries a glance. Sure, he was already healed and Beast was still bleeding, but a little concern wouldn’t have killed her. Scowling across at the other two, he reached into his pocket for another cigar.
“Do not light that,” Ororo snapped suddenly, her back still facing him.
“Huh?” Logan blinked, confused.
“Artie’s asthma is flaring up, we can’t have smoke in the house,” Ororo continued. She testily snapped her gloves off, announcing that Beast would live.
Logan looked at her as though she’d lost her damn mind. “Artie’s four floors up and the windows are open.”
“I said do not light it,” Ororo slammed the first aid kit closed and roughly moved away from Beast.
The big, blue mutant didn’t even look ashamed of himself. He was watching Ororo with the same sort of muted surprise that Logan was sure reflected on his face. The simple fact that Beast was watching her, however, made Logan’s blood boil in his veins. There was something in that gaze that got his hackles up.
Ororo came across the room to Logan, a scowl etched on her beautiful face. She roughly grabbed his face, checking him for injuries while bruising his chin.
“You’re healed?” The question was curt.
“Yeah,” he replied. “But you’re breakin’ my chin, darlin’.”
Ororo released him roughly, moving away quickly. His eyes drifted to Hank’s, meeting his for only a heartbeat before Storm drew their attention again. She was busy tucking the first aid kit away, washing her hands…buying herself time. Logan could read in the soft crease of her brow, the stiff set to her shoulders that she was trying like hell to keep her grip.
Hank moved off of his stool slowly, making his way toward Ororo. Logan’s hands clenched at seeing them so close together, though he wished he could deny it.
“Your medications,” Hank was saying to Ororo. Logan’s ears twitched at the words, worry hitting him in the gut with more force than Beast’s fist.
“Yes, thank you,” Ororo murmured. She swallowed a handful of pills dry, taking the orange juice Hank poured quickly.
“If you need me, I will be in the parlor,” Hank said, casting an angry glare at Wolverine over his shoulder.
Logan simply shrugged one shoulder at him. The indigo mutant left without another word, letting the kitchen door swing closed behind him. Logan, alone with Ororo for the first time now, inhaled deeply before expelling the breath audibly.
She was standing at the butcher’s block, both palms flat against the marble countertop. Logan slid down from the barstool, moving closer to her inch by inch. She looked so vulnerable all of the sudden, as though the weight of her demons now threatened to destroy her.
He hadn’t known what he was going to say and he still didn’t. During the long, heartbroken drive from Monterrey, Logan had thought about what to say when he saw her. He’d wondered how she was doing, some five weeks after the loss of their child. He’d hoped she could forgive him his long absence, that she would find some way to understand why he chose to leave her call unanswered.
The instant he was inside the mansion, he scented something on the air. Moving into the sitting room, seeing Ororo and Hank in what looked to be something more than a friendly embrace sent the animal within him screaming to the surface.
She’d been his, carried his child, Hank shouldn’t be touching her. For any reason.
Rage and jealousy overtook him, demanding that he lay claim to what he felt belonged to him. He would not allow her to slip away from him. Ororo was his, and that was one thing he could no longer deny. His five weeks away had taught him that, if nothing else.
“’Ro?”
In the mere second it took her to turn to him, he watched her cover up every vulnerability she had. Cold as ice, her eyes met his, her shoulders straightening almost imperceptibly.
“No,” he demanded, reaching for her face. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”
His palms cupped her cheeks, his own emotional armor suddenly around his ankles. He wanted her to see, he needed this woman to understand things he would never be able to put into words. It shocked him, down to the bottom of his fractured soul, how much she hurt him by simply closing herself off.
“’Ro, don’t.” He was begging, uncaring that Beast could likely hear every word he was saying.
“Where have you been?” She replied, her eyes still frosty. “Where have you been?” Her hand struck the marble of the counter with a resounding bang!
“I’m sorry,” he apologized almost immediately, hating himself for doing so.
Ororo’s entire body snapped to life in that instant. She reached up for his hands, tearing them away from her suddenly distraught face. Logan fought her, reaching for her even as she attempted to escape. He knew, without a doubt, that if he let go she would be lost to him forever. That simple thought terrified him.
“I needed you,” she said on a half-sob while struggling to get free. “I asked you to come home. I asked for you.”
“I know,” he countered, wrapping her into his arms.
“Get away from me.” She wriggled in his grasp, even as he pulled her flush against his chest. “Get your goddamn hands off of me, Wolverine!”
He wouldn’t let her go. He couldn’t. If he had to take several million megawatts of electricity through his super-conducting body, he would.
His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her even closer as they slowly crumpled to the floor. Ororo wept against his chest, finally giving in and melting into his arms. Logan swallowed thickly, rocking her gently, shushing her as soothingly as he could while fighting his own tears.
“Our baby,” she cried between broken sobs.
Logan felt his heart clench and that fist-to-the-gut feeling came back a hundred times worse. Ororo collapsed against him, her slender arms winding around his neck so he could hold her more securely. He felt a single tear slip from his eyes as he tightened his arms around her. Her tiny body, which had often reminded him of her unshakeable strength, seemed withered.
“I was alone,” she continued, her hands clutching at his jacket. “I was all alone.”
Logan closed his eyes, drawing her more fully into his lap.
“Not anymore.”
~**~
He lay beside her in the still night, his hands folded under the pillow that smelled like her. She lay beside him, her own pillow wet with tears.
It had taken a long time to get her upstairs. She alternated between fighting him, screaming for him to get out of the mansion, and weeping her broken heart all over his shirt. He weathered the fickle changes in her mood as patiently as he could, finally managing to get both of them into the privacy of her bedroom suite.
“It happened so fast,” she was saying quietly.
“Tell me,” Logan prodded, scooting a little closer to her on the bed.
She sniffled, brushing a wayward lock of white from her eyes. “I was lying in bed, Goddess, I’d been so tired. I had a stomach cramp, but I thought…”
Logan reached over, lightly touching her nose. She drew in a shuddering breath before continuing.
“I got up, thinking it was just the start of my cycle,” Ororo sighed, one of her hands drifting down to her flat belly. “The pain was blinding. I fell and the next thing I knew, Kitty was screaming and Piotr was carrying me down a hospital corridor.”
I shoulda been here, he thought, letting his hand cover hers where their child had once grown.
“Everything hurt,” Ororo went on, staring at their joined hands. “It still hurts.”
Prepared this time for her bout of tears, Logan leaned forward until their noses touched. It was a simple, intimate gesture that Ororo had already compared to mated wolves. He nuzzled her gently, remaining silent while she showed him her shattered heart.
She wiped at her own tears, the fingers of her free hand entwining with his. Logan kept close to her, wanting his lover to understand that he was here, that nothing would take him away. Ororo gave him a small, teary smile, relaxing against the pillows again.
He spoke only after a long silence.
“’Ro?”
“Mmm?” She released a shuddering breath.
“Would ya…” he cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her eyes before continuing. “Would you have kept the baby? If you’d known and all?”
Ororo replied without so much as a pause. “Yes. Of course.”
Logan swallowed thickly, his free hand picking at a fuzz ball on her soft blue duvet. “Why?”
A long, tension-filled pause followed his whispered question. Ororo’s thumb traced over the knuckles of the hand he kept in hers. She slid her leg closer to his, nudging him with her painted toes until he looked at her.
“Because, Logan,” she said softly. “I loved that child. Even without knowing him or her, I loved it.”
“I know what ya mean,” he whispered so quietly she might have missed it.
He thought she heard him, though, as she wrapped him back into her arms. Her head rested on his shoulder as they lapsed into silence, consumed with their own thoughts.
When, at last, sleep came to claim them, they drifted off still entwined from head to toe.
~**~
Henry sat in the sitting room, his hands in his dark blue hair. He stared at the fire as sounds from above gradually fell silent. He had listened as Logan fought to keep Ororo with him, he had waited for Ororo’s voice to actually betray fear or hatred.
Instead, there was only hurt and longing. Those were emotions only the Wolverine could assuage. It was time, again, for the Beast to step back.
He swallowed thickly, remembering all those years ago when he had left her behind. It was not trust in her that he lacked. No, he knew she would never turn him away. It was himself that he had so many problems with. Henry had had to face many things after the accident, including his own vanity.
And he dealt with the prejudice of looking so inhuman every day. What kind of man would he have been if he hid away from the world with Ororo? How would his life, his ideals have changed?
When the front door opened and closed again, Hank looked up. Bewildered, he tilted his head, watching for whomever had been outside.
“Kitty?”
The girl stopped in her tracks. Hank was on his feet in an instant, recognizing that wherever she had been, she was wearing her X-Men uniform. Her hair was mussed and a long, angry mark covered her cheek from her ear to her chin.
“What have you done?”
“Nothing!” She deflected immediately. “I didn’t do anything.”
Hank crossed his arms over his chest and raised a single, inquiring brow at her. He knew the stance practically screamed: “I don’t believe you”.
Kitty sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it, Dr. McCoy.”
“I have worried about it and I will continue to do so…”
“Hey, was that Wolverine’s motorcycle outside?” The girl deflected masterfully.
Hank scowled. “Yes.”
“Huh.” Kitty scowled. “Guess I’ll wait til morning to say hello to him.”
Before he could stop himself, Beast grumbled. “I already said quite a bit.”
“So I can see,” Kitty cocked her head, studying him carefully. “Nice shiner. That cut need stitches?”
“No, actually, it was not that dee-“ Hank halted, narrowing his eyes. “Very tricky of you, Katherine.”
She flashed him a toothy grin. “Don’t I get ‘off the hook’ points for that one?”
“Perhaps.” Hank smiled, shaking his head. With a sigh, he beckoned her to follow him. “Come, let me clean that cut for you.”
“Don’t worry, Dr. McCoy,” Kitty said as they moved into the kitchen. “It’s nothing.”
An odd chill passed over him as he led her into the kitchen. “My dear, nothing usually turns into something when you least expect it.”
