Chapter Six: Messenger
The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high and steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
~Seether ft. Amy Lee
The weeks after Logan’s return to the mansion, things remained somewhat strained between he and Ororo. Though they often spent the nights together in chaste slumber, neither of them could find the words to console or confront one another in the daylight.
Instead, life moved on within the stone walls of the school. Classes continued; each mutant student working hard toward that normal life as though knights on a Grail quest. Ororo watched from the staircase landing as a group of teens moved into a classroom, some eager and some not so much for the long hours of American Literature.
His wings now displayed proudly through custom cut clothing, Angel paused in the hallway. Winged and gentle as his codename would suggest, her young charge had come far in the limited years he had been among the X-Men.
As though he felt her eyes on him, Angel’s soft blue eyes met hers. There was appreciation of her in that gaze; thanks for taking him in when he thought all was lost. Ororo felt, in that stolen moment, what she thought Charles had as he watched them all grow from unsure teenagers into solid, mature adults.
She returned his kind smile with one of her own, shooing him off to class. Though well into his twenties, Angel had much to learn before he could take on a class himself. He had expressed so much interest in the running of the school, Ororo wondered if perhaps he would take the torch when she passed it on. Ororo knew instinctively that he would make a wonderful headmaster.
When Angel had closed the classroom door behind him, Ororo raised a brow at young Jimmy, whom skirted the corner and bolted for the room. He seemed to be running late, again. Leech, as he was affectionately codenamed, tossed her an apologetic smile before darting inside.
A soft Southern accent drew her attention next. Marie, having discarded her codename some time ago, was arguing with the school’s grocer over a cordless phone. She was dressed as an adult now, in tastefully selected slacks and a pleated white blouse. The now-human girl waved to Ororo, keeping the phone to her ear while moving into the office down the hall.
Artie, whom had been at Xavier’s since the tender age of twelve, was walking past as Marie vanished beneath the wide staircase. He and Bobby Drake were discussing the finer points of a decent touch football rematch, which was to take place in the autumn afternoon. Ororo could not help but chuckle when Bobby caught the back of the other boy’s neck with a carelessly slung arm. The two practically radiated affection and camaraderie.
The long foyer was empty for only a moment. Psylocke “ the newest staff member “ walked in from the front door with her class. They had been discussing earth sciences with Henry out of doors, where they could see and touch the things they studied. The violet haired Englishwoman laughed heartily at something the furred mutant ambassador said to her.
Children removed their light fall coats, chatting amicably about their projects, which were due before the end of the term. Ororo watched each of them scatter into different parts of the mansion, an ancient longing settling somewhere deep inside of her.
As the room emptied again, Logan appeared from the southern wing. He had a toolbox in his hand, his famous black Stetson cocked haphazardly on his head. She was unsure whether he sensed or scented her, but he paused below her. His free hand, which held an unopened beer, came up to tip his hat back so he could look at her properly.
Her smile was instantaneous and genuinely warm. How could he not know how at home he appeared here? Tension never set his shoulders nor twitched his jaw as he ran about the mansion making minor repairs. Did he truly not see it or did he deny it with every breath?
Logan gave her a lopsided and lazy smile. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest, a tingle forming in her womb.
Afraid of what she was feeling, she turned to ascend the staircase, leaving Logan watching as she moved away from him. Needing to be out of doors herself, she easily navigated the halls she knew so well, taking the back staircase from just outside of her bedroom door. When she reached the kitchen, the nature-bound mutant headed outside.
Immune to the cold, though the early autumn chill was a welcome relief from the balmy days of summer, Ororo let her feet guide her. She eased down the garden path, letting her manicured fingers lightly touch the dying leaves of now dormant trees as she did so. The air was crisp and fresh with the onset of fall.
The season often saddened Ororo. Though storms were more frequent, she could almost feel the earth’s full bosom wither beneath her feet. She adored the changing leaves and the burst of color amid a deep russet earth, but the loss of spring and summer always gave her a slightly melancholy attitude.
On a heavy sigh, she turned a corner, following the paths toward the untamed wood that bordered the secluded private school.
Her thoughts were drawn back to the children. She inherited guardianship of five mutant teenagers with the death of Charles. Many of them were well on their way to adulthood, no longer in need of supervision as they moved on with their lives.
Until her miscarriage of Logan’s child, she had not realized how much she wanted children of her own. Oh, she loved all of her charges, adored watching them grow into wonderful adults, but there was something only true motherhood could give her.
Ororo turned her face toward the chilled sky, her fingers lightly dancing over the branches of a barren lilac bush. She wanted children of her own. Mortality now weighed heavily around her as she survived so much of her family. Her clock seemed to have begun its undeniable ticking.
She passed the monuments of death for her family without really seeing them. Her thoughts were consumed with babies and the overwhelming need to settle herself. She desperately needed to center her life.
Could Logan stand beside her for this new life she wanted? Something in her longed for him to be her mate, the father of future children. Fear that he would leave her again, that his ingrained wanderlust would draw him further from the school combated with hope inside of her, making the wintry mutant wary of broaching the subject.
Nothing could be decided without speaking to him.
She would not even entertain thoughts of traveling that path with Henry. His role as an ambassador kept him away from them for long stretches of time. No, that ship had sailed some time ago, no matter what her heart told her.
Having enough of shirking her responsibilities for one day, Ororo turned back toward the mansion. Of course, she need not rush. They could survive a few moments longer while she enjoyed the chilled fall air.
~**~
It was during the maddening dinner rush that the doorbell rang. Having just entered the hall from the Rec Room “ where he’d been ushering children into the dining hall “ Hank called out that he would answer it.
Ororo’s “Thank you!” rang through the halls.
Henry opened the front door, wondering who on earth could be visiting at his hour. He ran a furred hand through his blue mane, wondering how Ororo dealt with so many children every day of her life. He loved the students, but they could easily drive a psychopath sane.
“Hello, Henry.”
Startled from his musings at the seductively familiar voice, a wide smile curved Hank’s lips. He revealed his canines with good humor, reaching out to envelope the visitor in a warm embrace.
“Trish! My dear, you look as ravishing as ever.”
The slender, dark haired beauty accepted Beast’s enormous embrace with a laugh. Hank squeezed her as tightly as he dared before holding her out to have a look at her.
“How are you doing, Cookie Monster?” She asked, a fond twinkle in her gray-blue eyes.
“Wonderfully, actually,” he replied. Taking her under his arm, he led her into the chaotic mansion.
Patricia Tilby “ a reporter for NCBC New Network “ happened to be a long time friend of Henry’s. They had met in college some years ago and while she had harbored a rather blatant attraction him, neither ever acted on those feelings. She was the first to learn of his secondary mutation, to which she had simply replied “Hey, don’t shed on my sofa, Blue. Where’s the last of the Kung Pao Chicken?”
It had been some time since he’d seen her last. Trish covered mutant stories all over the world and the last he heard, she’d been in the country of Wakanda reporting on various human on mutant crimes.
Her throaty voice sent a shiver down Beast’s spine, but he thought it best to not dwell on it. Things were already more than confused in his heart and mind.
“And you, my dear?” Henry asked as she placed her briefcase down. “Are you writing an expose on private school scandals?”
His teasing made her narrow those soulful eyes playfully. One of Trish’s most valuable attributes was her vulnerability on camera. She could display a wealth of emotions while keeping her reporter’s voice calm and collected.
“Actually, no,” she cleared her throat. “I need to speak with you and your friend, Ororo.”
Before Henry could reply, two young boys dashed into the room. Henry pulled Trish out of harm’s way without thinking about it. The Nerf ball being fought over was quickly confiscated and the boys sent “sulking “ into the dining hall.
“Children.” Hank grinned, tossing the ball expertly in the air.
Trish watched the ball bounce in his massive, blue hands for a moment before snatching it from him. She tossed it over her shoulder, all hints of good humor gone.
“Patricia,” Henry said, suddenly concerned. “Whatever is the matter?”
“You’ve got a problem, Blue. A big one.” Her transparent eyes betrayed concern and fear.
He gauged her carefully. Though he trusted her judgment and reporter’s instinct, Trish did have a flair for the overdramatic. If she had gotten wind of something he needed to know, it was entirely like her to overreact and show up at his doorstep.
However, the fact that she was not in a pressed pantsuit but soft blue jeans, an NYU sweatshirt and sneakers told him she had stopped on her way home. That, in Henry’s recollection, meant she had done some serious thinking on this matter.
Fear gripped his heart as he responded, steering her toward the school’s Headmistress.
“Ororo is in the kitchen.”
~**~
Logan watched with some apprehension as Ororo greeted the woman known as “Trish”. He scented nervousness on her, as well as a faint hint of something that smelled like Hank. Intrigued by this, Logan sat in the back of the room, watching the trio of them carefully.
The woman was shorter than Storm, nearly reaching Hank’s height. She wore blue-black hair at her shoulders, her sharp eyes a curiously grayish blue color. Her slightly almond shaped eyes and long, pointed nose seemed somewhat eastern, as though she had someone of Asian or Middle Eastern decent in her family line. Her movements were of a person in constant motion; Logan doubted the woman could sit still and just breathe for longer than forty-five seconds.
Hank, on the other hand, looked as though he were comfortable with this intriguing female. He touched her more often than he did Storm, which was surprising. A hand on her back to lead her into the room, a squeeze of her shoulder, a tap to get her attention…it was rather revealing.
Something was happening or had happened between Hank and Trish. Logan’s curiosity was definitely piqued.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” ‘Ro was saying as she took a seat on the settee in her office.
“I can say I’ve heard nothing but ‘Ororo this’ and ‘Ororo that’ for the last ten years.” Trish replied, giving Hank a teasing smirk as she took the squashy armchair. “I can’t believe we haven’t met until now.”
“Yes,” Ororo was grinning widely. “Something does always seem to come up.”
Logan watched the byplay between the two women carefully. Over the last weeks, he had not scented or seen anything between Beast and Storm even remotely similar to what he’d walked in on his first night back, but it never hurt to be careful. Ororo was to be his and no trip down memory lane with Hank was going to get in the way of that.
He noticed right away that neither woman looked particularly on guard. Ororo was open and welcoming; Trish accepting and curious. Perhaps Beast did have something going on with this woman. Logan liked that idea. A lot.
“Patricia has some news, Ororo,” Hank cut into the feminine chatter.
“Right, to business,” Trish agreed. She reached into a thick black briefcase, pulling out a slender manila folder.
“What is it?” Ororo asked, taking the folder carefully. Logan eased over to her, reading over her shoulder without making himself too noticeable.
“Someone yanked Bolivar Trask’s nose seriously out of joint,” Trish revealed quickly. “A very intelligent, if foolhardy, person broke into his secure facility and raped his computer mainframe.”
“Raped?” Hank seemed to bristle at the word.
“That’s the only word for it, Blue,” Trish said, reaching over to pat his hand. “Whoever got into the system destroyed it. All backups and external drives, too. He’s got nothing.”
“Perhaps we should be thanking that person,” Ororo said bluntly. Logan smirked.
But Trish was shaking her head, her dark hair flying about her shoulders. “This isn’t good. So long as Trask could snuggle up to his files and wish bad things on evil muties, he was controllable.”
“What’s wrong with muties?” Logan interrupted rudely from behind Ororo.
He was satisfied to see the woman jump slightly, as though she had forgotten he was even in the room. “Not a damn thing, Wolf Boy.”
Logan heard Ororo snort, though she tried covering it with a cough. “Logan…”
“What?” He asked, not taking his eyes from the cool challenge in Tilby’s.
“Patricia is on our side,” Hank said defensively. “She may not be a mutant, but she fights as hard as we do.”
“Really? I don’t remember seeing her at Alkali Lake. Or Alcatraz.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Beast practically snarled. “She was reporting on the heroism of the X-Men, not branding us as wild vigilantes.”
“Hank,” both women cut in before the men could come to blows. Again.
Logan respected his big, blue friend, but the rift between them had not yet healed. He knew of Beast’s history with Storm and understood his unwavering loyalty. But Hank had no idea what was going on inside of Logan himself and that caused them both pain.
Of course, Wolverine would have cheerfully submitted to Chinese Water Torture than admit that aloud.
“Sorry.” Logan’s curt, one word response made Trish smile.
“Don’t worry about it.” She flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder and promptly ignored him. “As I was saying, so long as Trask was left alone, he was marginally powerless. He lost a lot of ground after Alcatraz.”
“And now?” Ororo questioned, obviously worried. Logan could smell it on her.
“He’s been stomping around Washington for the last few weeks, screaming that the X-Men sabotaged his offices. He’s moving for an immediate sanction over the school.”
“Why was I not alerted?” Hank demanded from his perch on Ororo’s desk.
“Cause, Blue, you and Storm here are the ones he’s screaming about the most.”
“Oh, dear,” Ororo muttered, handing Logan the file she’d been glancing over.
He took the folder and flipped it open; his eyes darted over the major points, a growl bubbling up in his chest. Trask was eloquent, at least. His recent speeches at House committee meetings were well done, even if they branded Storm and Beast as some sort of guerilla commandos.
Storm, the file said blatantly, was training an army of mutants to destroy humanity. Like Charles Xavier before her, she fought for mutant rights at any cost. He had told the Senate that the altercation and protection of human beings from Phoenix and Magneto served her interests more than anything.
As for Beast, he was the devil incarnate. Having worked his way through the diplomatic ranks on Storm’s orders, he was set to influence policy that would harm human rights and uplift the mutant community’s.
“This is complete bullshit,” Logan said a moment later.
“Yeah, it is, Wolf Boy,” Trish agreed. “I’ve been putting out small fires all over Washington since I got back Stateside.”
“Has Trask revealed his plans?”
At Beast’s question, Trish paused, taking a deep breath. Logan could almost feel the other two mutants brace themselves as he did.
“Yeah. He wants Storm incarcerated for crimes against humanity and I’ll be damned shocked if your Shadowcat isn’t arrested in the next few weeks.”
Storm and Beast were immediately on their feet. “Kitty? Why Kitty?” Storm demanded.
“Cause, she walks through walls, right? Half the humans at Alcatraz saw her do it. Trask is salivating like a fat kid at a Vegas buffet. He’s already convinced more than a few people that Shadowcat is a serious problem and Storm’s egging her on.”
“Shit,” Logan said abruptly, heading for the door.
“Logan, wait,” ‘Ro called after him. “Where are you going?”
“To get Kitten the hell outta Dodge.”
Protect. That was the only thing on his mind. He didn’t give two shits what Trask or anyone else thought. No one was taking anyone from this family by force. He’d protected the students with his life once; he’d do it again. He’d grab Kitten and Pete “ cause Lord knew the boy wasn’t letting her out of his sight “ and make a mad dash for Canada. Panama. Anywhere but New York.
“Stop.”
At Ororo’s imperious command, he halted without thinking about it. Damn, but that woman had him under her thumb.
“Extracting Kitten now only makes her look guilty,” Ororo said calmly.
“Perhaps she is,” Hank interrupted quietly.
Logan and Ororo turned on him so quickly it was a wonder they didn’t fall over.
“What?” They snapped in unison.
His furry blue face was a mask of tension and concern. He looked from Trish to Ororo and finally to Logan.
“When you arrived home…that same evening, Kitty came into the mansion quite late. She was in her X-Men uniform and refused to explain her actions.”
“Henry!” Ororo threw her hands up in dismay. “Why did you not say anything?”
“I did not want to worry anyone,” he muttered as though ashamed.
“Just cause she was sneakin’ out don’t mean she did it.”
The other three gave Logan a look that said “ quite clearly “ he was kidding himself. He held his hands up in defense.
“Hey, I’m just sayin’.”
Ororo rolled her eyes at him, though he thought he caught a hint of an exasperated smile tugging at her beautiful mouth.
“Henry, what should we do?”
A massive blue hand scratched at his chin and the bestial genius met Trish’s eyes, raising a cool brow. Logan thought he caught hints of a conversation between those two that required no words. It was kinda sweet. Sorta.
“I will return to Washington immediately,” he said without taking his eyes from Trish. “I must do what I can to stop Trask’s new crusade.”
“I’m going, too. I can play at the hero angle again; it’s been a while since Alcatraz. If I start throwing around words like ‘heroism’ and ‘disrespect’, publicists are going to start frothing at the mouth.” Trish offered as she stood from the chair.
“I will do what we have always done,” Ororo chimed in. “We will carry on as though nothing has happened.”
“Me?” Logan growled as he headed to the door. “I’m gonna holler at Kitten.”
“Oh, good,” Hank said as Logan slammed out of Ororo’s office. “At least she will give him straight answers, whether she wants to or not.”
~**~
By the time Ororo got up to her bedroom after room checks, she was exhausted. Emotionally and physically, she had reached the end of her tether. With the mansion quietly slumbering around her, she eased up the back staircase that would take her from the kitchen to her room.
As she passed the bedroom Kitty and Peter shared, she clearly heard the sound of a headboard striking the wall and guttural grunts mingling with feminine moaning. The two of them were damn near insatiable.
Shaking her head, Ororo made her way to her bedroom, easily manipulating the clasp on her belt as she entered.
To her delight, Logan was already undressed, waiting for her on the enormous four-poster bed. He had the remote resting on his thigh, a beer on the nightstand, and John Wayne on the television tucked into her antique armoire.
Giving him a small, tired smile, she crossed in front of the television toward the bathroom. She discarded her teaching garb, replacing it with a soft cotton nightgown of a modest length. She removed her bra, hanging it over the towel rack in her bathroom before shutting the light off and moving back into the bedroom.
Ororo took up her hairbrush at the mirrored vanity table and sat on the stool. Brushing her short hair out was a nightly ritual, one that calmed her even after a rough day. She removed her make up, unclasped her earrings, all without a word to the man in her bed.
It was quite a surprise that, when she stood, Logan appeared behind her. His solid, masculine body pressed into her back while his arms wound around her stomach.
“Hey.”
“Hello.”
He rained soft, innocent kisses over the back of her neck, making her body suddenly tight. Desire ignited inside of her, begging for release. Oh, it had been so long. He could drown out all of the doubt and turmoil in her mind for a little while.
But she knew she had to say something before they could go further.
Clearing her throat, Ororo tilted her head up, denying him access to her skin. “Logan?”
As though he sensed her tensing in his arms, he stopped his delightful ministrations, resting his chin on her shoulder. He, obviously, was not going to release her just yet, so she placed her hands on his warm, strong arms before speaking.
“We need to talk.”
“Aw, hell,” he sighed. “No conversation ‘tween a man and a woman’s ever ended well when it starts with that sentence.”
Ororo rolled her eyes heavenward, amusement playing about her lips.
“I’ve decided something, and I need you to know about it.”
“Ok,” he nodded against her. “Shoot, darlin’.”
For several seconds, she found herself unable to say anything. Then, drawing on the courage Charles had proverbially beaten into her, she whispered.
“I want a child.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the mournful song of a nightingale through the open terrace windows harmonizing with the sweet violin of crickets. She felt the soft puff of air against her flesh that told her Logan had exhaled.
“All right.”
Though her heart fluttered in her chest, Ororo turned to him. She met the dark fire in his eyes with her emotions naked to him. “I am deadly serious, Logan. I want to have children, sooner rather than later.”
He did not so much as flinch. “Didn’t I just say “All right”?”
Ororo swallowed hard. “You want children? Just like that?”
“You do, just like that,” he countered.
“I lost a child, Logan, that brought me face to face with this terrible yearning inside of me.” She swallowed thickly, pushing aside the sorrow and quickly building hope.
“We lost that baby, darlin’. You keep forgettin’ that.” His tone was slightly injured, his eyes reflecting sudden and overwhelming grief.
Surprised, Ororo reached up, taking his chin gently in her hands. “Logan…”
He tried to look away, to break the intimate contact between their eyes. She restrained him gently, unwilling to let him retreat into safer territory now that he had crossed that invisible line. Ororo pinned his gaze with hers. Inside the ebony depths she saw so much pain, she saw him, much as she always had. Everything he hid, deep in the secret places of his soul was bare to anyone willing to look that closely.
To her astonishment, she was more than willing.
“I suffered, too,” he whispered gruffly. “I was hurtin’ just as bad.”
“That is why you stayed away,” she said with something like awe in her tone. “You were grieving just as terribly.”
Tears welled in his eyes, tears that she knew too well would not spill over. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
Ororo ducked her head, feeling her own remorse crash over her like the unforgiving waves against jutting rock. He took her chin in his thick fingers, lifting her face as she had done to him.
“We can’t do this,” she whispered painfully. “I cannot do this.”
“Do what?” He demanded, his voice taking on a lilt of anger and hurt.
“You cannot run and hide from me, not for this.” Ororo swallowed over the lump in her throat. “If we have a child, you have to be here. Every day. This cannot be something you drift in and out of, Logan.”
In lieu of responding, Logan pulled her fully into his arms. He soothed her with his hands stroking her back in that oddly comforting way. She clung to him, listening to John Wayne mingled with the nightingale. She would give Logan time to think on all she had said.
She had to know where they stood before they could move forward. Together or apart.
