Chapter Fourteen: Shattered
If I wrote you a symphony
Just to say how much you mean to me
What would you do?
If I told you, you were beautiful
Would you date me on the regular?
Tell me would you?
~Justin Timberlake
It was steadily becoming commonplace, waking in Storm’s bedroom. Since Pyro’s most recent attack on the X-Men, he’d spent more time here than in his own room, which should have surprised him.
Instead of dwelling on it, both Ororo and Logan merely ignored the change to their relationship. Wrapped in one another’s arms into the wee hours of morning, they disregarded the world outside of her perfumed bower, content to steal a few moments alone. At times, Logan would goad her into a fight, just to have her snap at him.
How long had he been doing that, he wondered. Poking at her, wiggling under her skin just to get a rise out of her, to see those dark eyes rim with frost. It really amazed him to realize much of his frustration with the woman stemmed from a consuming attraction he’d long buried under memories of a certain red head.
Ororo had asked that very question the previous night, lying awake in his arms as the spring breeze slipped into her room. Looking up at the ceiling, Logan was honest with her. She’d haunted him, though why he had been unable to understand. With Jean, the attraction was immediate and red hot. With Ororo…the burn smoldered, sending up smoke to distract his usually keen senses.
She’d teased him about being dense. He’d tickled her into taking it back.
So strange, he thought, fighting to keep his eyes closed against the harsh morning sunlight. Just weeks ago, he could have strangled that snowy minx and not felt a twinge of guilt. Now, he wondered how he managed to sleep without her cuddled close to him. Maybe that’s the way it was supposed to work, he mused. How could he know? The only other woman he’d cared for had been engaged the entire time he pined for her. So, maybe, just maybe things weren’t working out so oddly after all.
Prying tired eyes open, Logan inhaled deeply as he stretched out like a cat on Ororo’s Egyptian cotton sheets. The bed beside him was cold, which made him frown. It wasn’t unusual, as she insisted on running every morning at dawn, but he hated missing her. Wincing against the sunlight pouring through Ororo’s five million windows, he glanced around quickly. Scents of shampoo and soap hinted that someone had recently taken a shower.
The beautiful mutant stood before her dresser, peering into the large mirror resting on the back. Her hands were busy smoothing lotion over her arms as she lounged about in a long silk bathrobe. She had the television on, barely loud enough for her to hear in all areas of the bedroom suite. Matt Lauer was laughing at something a vapid movie star was saying as Logan scratched his stomach.
Ororo had not noticed he was awake, so he shifted his head against the pillow, allowing a smile to curve his lips. She rolled her eyes at something Lauer said, setting her lotion down on the dresser’s top. Her fingers danced over the meticulous line of perfumes she owned, selecting one from the dozens of expensive bottles.
Logan sampled the air lightly, grinning full on when he realized she had sprayed her throat with his personal favorite. Though her usual scent of winter frost and a sweet summer breeze was enticing enough, when she added the subtle hint of decadent sandalwood, she drove him absolutely crazy.
Though he never thought about it until recently, it was an intimate privilege to watch a woman’s daily ritual. He inhaled deeply, catching her scent as she ran her hand through the short white of her hair as though fluffing it up. Logan rolled his eyes at her. She could wear a potato sack and not wash her hair for a month and she’d still be a damn knock out.
Ororo untied her robe, moving away from the dresser and turning toward the closet. Logan licked his lips as she pulled the soft satin from her body, revealing smoky flesh marred only by a black lace bra with matching panties. She put her arms over her head, stretching with a yawn as she made her way into the closet.
Logan sat up against the headboard, rolling his shoulders and relaxing. His lover came out of the closet a moment later, fastening a black skirt with a blouse tossed over her shoulder. If she continued to prance around half-dressed, Logan was going to make her very late for whatever she had planned this morning.
“Oh,” she pulled up short, spotting Logan awake. “There you are. I thought you’d sleep all day.”
“Mornin’, darlin’.”
Her smile was warm and infectious. Logan shrugged one shoulder, unabashedly sliding out of the bed. One of her brows arched at his naked “ and ready “ body.
If he hadn’t had to piss like a racehorse, he might have dragged that gorgeous woman into his arms. He plodded into her bathroom, whistling a little as he popped up the toilet seat before relieving himself. He washed his hands, splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth.
Ororo was fully dressed “ complete with black pumps that made her legs seem impossibly long”when he came back out. Logan yanked on a pair of jeans, leaving them unbuttoned as he crossed to help her make the bed.
The domesticity of their morning ritual was not lost on him, but he shoved aside thoughts that dwelled on how tamed he was becoming. He liked this effortless ritual, liked seeing her before she slipped into “Storm” mode. End of story.
He appraised her after the bedspread was smoothed to her satisfaction. “You look nice today.”
Ororo’s face flushed slightly as she came around the bed. He immediately took her into his arms, inhaling the seductive scent of her. “You can be very sweet.”
“Hey,” he grunted with a fake scowl. “Don’t go noisin’ that around, darlin’.”
She held up her right hand. “Scout’s honor.”
Logan leaned closer, capturing her lips softly as her arms wound around his neck. In a few minutes, they would have to face the masses, get lost in repairs and students and the day-to-day grind of running their beloved ‘Mutant High’. But for right now “ just this moment “ they could be themselves without pressure.
When Ororo pulled away, she gently nuzzled his nose with hers, making him smile softly. It was a rare thing, that particular smile, but he found himself unable to stop it whenever Ororo got sentimental or tactile.
“What are your plans for the day?” She asked without leaving his arms, one hand toying with the hair at his nape.
Logan fought to concentrate, her hands tended to distract him. “Danger Room with the kids at nine, reffing a football rematch at noon, and Luke wanted to look at something in Cerebro again this afternoon. You?”
“Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, lunch…” She grinned. “Paperwork, paperwork…”
“Buried in it again?”
Ororo pouted. “The elves still won’t come out at night to help.”
“Bastards.” Logan smirked, capturing her smiling lips again.
They were still locked together when a polite knock sounded on the door. Neither of them moved, as though they both silently agreed that whomever wanted their attention could wait another thirty seconds or so until they were finished.
“Mother?”
Ororo pulled away from Logan, turning to open the bedroom door. Logan grumbled good-naturedly about having his own kid keep interrupting them.
Lucas came into the room, dropping a familiar kiss onto his mother’s cheek as he did so. Logan nodded a good morning, grabbing a clean t-shirt from the laundry basket Ororo had brought up the previous evening and pulling it over his bare chest.
“Oh look,” Bishop said with something that could have been humor. “You’re both dressed.”
The man’s mother smacked him sharply on the back of the head, making both father and son crack into identical grins. Ororo looked between them with a mock shudder.
“It’s eerie how alike the two of you look,” she teased, closing the bedroom door when their son was inside completely.
“Somethin’ the matter, son?” Logan asked of Bishop as he sat on the bed to pull his boots on.
“Marie will be home very soon,” Lucas explained quietly. “As in, within the next few minutes.”
“Is there something wrong with her?” Storm asked as she slipped her arms into the jacket that matched her skirt. She buttoned it quickly, giving her a professional appearance. Logan suddenly wanted to tear her clothes off.
“Not exactly,” Lucas replied, taking his father from sexually charged thoughts. “Look, this isn’t…well…”
“Lucas.” Ororo’s curt call of his name, the way her arms folded over her chest made Logan smirk behind her. She was every bit the mother in moments like this.
Apparently Bishop agreed. He looked at the ground, reminding Logan of a chastised child.
“Marie and Iceman’s relationship has been in the toilet for months. Everyone knows this. Bobby…”
“Slept with Kitty?” Storm offered easily.
Logan scowled. He wanted to beat the boy for betraying the Southern belle, but at the same time, Lucas was correct. Whatever the two had was gone and had been for months. Even before Marie took the cure, the air between the so-called couple was cold. How could Logan blame the poor kid for wanting something real?
He’d still punch him. Principle of the thing, really.
“Yes,” Bishop said, looking relieved that neither of them were terribly surprised. “But Marie will find out, quickly. There will be a fight. I’m not exactly sure how it happens, but Marie leaves the X-Men.”
Logan caught the glance Ororo shot at him as he grabbed the cigar he’d set on her nightstand. Something didn’t ring true here. What was Lucas hiding? He bit back the urge to ask, reminding himself that both he and Ororo had sworn to not pressure their son for answers any longer. He would tell them what they needed to know.
They hoped.
“In my timeline, Kitty ended up alone. Pete was dead and she’d lost most of her friends to the tension between she and Marie. She lost Bobby on this day, as he was determined to make his relationship with Marie work.”
Ororo’s frown deepened. “You don’t want them together.”
The dark mutant shook his head. “No.”
“Why?” Logan asked, ignoring the sharp look his future wife shot him.
Lucas regarded them both carefully. “You’ll understand soon enough. I just…I can’t…”
At the desperation in his tone, both Ororo and Logan moved to him quickly. She grasped his massive hand while Logan squeezed his shoulder. This shit was tearing his son apart and he hated every minute of it. This was the reason Ororo and Logan made their promise. They had no desire to cause their son further grief.
“It’s ok,” Logan whispered.
“We will work it out, little one,” Ororo soothed.
“You haven’t called me that in a long time,” Lucas chuckled weakly. “Not since I got taller than you.”
She winked at their son, her smile instant and glorious. “Perhaps I should.”
Before they could speak again, Logan caught the scent of Artie wafting through the door a mere moment ahead of loud, frantic knocking. Ororo immediately rushed to the bedroom door, throwing it open to find their hysterical charge bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“It’s Jubi and Dazzler!” Artie explained in a rush. “They’re goin’ at it in the foyer!”
~**~
The scene in the foyer was one for the record books. Ororo came to a screeching halt, yanked against Logan’s chest and ducked out of harm’s way as a rogue blast of white-hot light came zinging through the corridor.
She spotted the Asian mutant squaring off against their newest team member, not surprised to find Piotr huddling over Kitty and Marie and Bobby tucked into the doorway leading to the den. The teens had done an exemplary job of keeping the younger children out of harm’s way.
“Let me up, Logan,” Ororo commanded, scrambling to her feet as high-pitched curses flew through the open foyer.
“Jesus,” Logan said as he stood, hauling Ororo to her feet. “What got into these two?”
“We had best find out,” she replied, steadying herself as she took in the infuriated faces of the girls circling one another like pit bulls.
Each of them thrust hands out, Ali dependant on the CD player clipped to her belt for a constant source of energy. Brightly colored globules of what Jubilee called her “fireworks” exploded as Ali bent backwards in an elegant flip. Pure, blinding light left Dazzler’s hands, the force sending Jubilee sprawling back against the staircase.
Ororo darted from the corridor leading to the kitchen, letting Piotr snatch her from the entrance to the Rec Room. He pulled her backward, cradling her as Kitty ducked back into the Rec Room. Ororo smiled tightly to Logan, whom crouched beside their son in the opposite hall.
“What happened?” Storm demanded of the young Russian, wincing when Ali took a sharp jab to the jaw.
Piotr sighed. “Jubilee and Dazzler are doing what Katya and Marie should have.”
Kitty flushed, looking guilt-stricken. “I…”
“It’s fine.” Ororo cut in, not wanting to get into details here. “We have to stop them before Alison aggravates her injuries. I would rather not have two of my pupils locked in the med-lab for a week.”
Piotr nodded. “If someone can subdue Jubilation, I can control Alison.”
Ororo arched a brow. “Oh?”
He gave her a slightly self-mocking smirk. “As I am sleeping with her, she must submit by default.”
Kitty erupted into giggles. Ororo realized then that there was an inside joke here. Likely one she did not want to be included in. Storm motioned to Wolverine, whom nodded with immediate understanding. Bobby and Marie slipped further into the den.
Piotr’s skin rippled as he transformed into the metal-saturated Colossus. He stood from the doorway without fear, handing Kitty off to Ororo wordlessly. Wolverine leapt into the foyer almost the instant Colossus stepped in.
Wolverine reached the brawling, blood-soaked girls first. He grabbed Jubilee’s hands, thrusting them into the air where her fireworks harmlessly smacked into the ceiling. Piotr stepped up behind a shocked Alison, pinning her arms to her sides even as she fought against him.
“Excuse us,” he murmured, lifting the girl effortlessly.
“Carry on,” Wolverine nearly chuckled as Piotr carried a screaming Alison up the stairs.
Things settled immediately as the other mutants came out of their hiding places. Ororo winced, nothing the newly-repaired foyer was covered in scorn marks. She sighed, shaking her head as Beast appeared in all his lab-coat-flapping glory.
“Oh, my stars and garters,” he gasped, surveying the damage. “What happened?”
“Sparkler and Jubes thought they’d reenact Holyfield versus Tyson.” Logan answered as Beast came to fuss over a sullen Jubilee.
“Luckily, no one got an ear bitten off,” Bobby chimed in sarcastically.
Kitty remained at Ororo’s side, fidgeting and chewing on an already nerves-swollen bottom lip. Ororo glanced at Marie, whom was staring at the girl somewhat coldly. The headmistress thought quickly about intervening, drawing Marie off and distracting her. But she knew, better than anyone, it was only delaying the inevitable.
Iceman stood off to the side, his position squarely between both girls. Ororo looked to her own son, whom hung back, watching the entire episode with haunted eyes. He claimed Marie and Bobby were to be separated. Though she hated herself for it, Ororo developed a plan and acted before second-guessing herself.
“You two girls want to weigh in?” She asked tartly. “What were they fighting about?”
“Ask her,” Marie jabbed a finger in Kitty’s direction.
Kitty shrugged. “They were choosing sides.”
“For what?”
Marie practically snarled. “War.”
Ororo felt that blow right to the heart. The Southern girl was glaring at Kitty, whom looked cool and aloof by comparison. Bobby crossed his arms, deftly stepping between them. His face was a mask of confusion, of self-loathing. Ororo pitied the poor boy, knowing how difficult any decision would be for him.
“To your corners,” he said quietly. “Marie, I’ll be up in a minute. Kitty, why don’t you go make sure Daz hasn’t murdered Pete.”
Kitty immediately moved toward the stairs, vaulting upward so that she could phase through the ceiling. Marie stared at Bobby for a moment before collecting her bags and moving upstairs at a more leisurely pace.
Beast was moving Jubilee down to the med-lab. This left Bobby alone with Storm, Bishop and Wolverine.
The boy’s shoulders slumped, his gaze cast to the ground as the world weighed in on him. He shook his head, emotion tingeing his voice in a way that made Ororo ache to hold him.
“I love her.” He whispered into the silence.
“Which one?” Wolverine asked gruffly.
Bobby let loose a short, hollow laugh. “I don’t really know.”
~**~
Piotr took the icepack Kitty handed him, kneeling in front of Alison to place the cold package to her swelling eye. She winced, attempting to draw away as Piotr grasped her chin to hold her in place.
Kitty sat cross-legged on Piotr’s bedroom floor, flipping through one of his sketchbooks with a broken look on her face. Ali glanced at her, pouting a little around a split lip. He could understand the bond between these girls, though it surfaced quickly. In the need for female companionship, they had easily latched on, likely startled to find how much they had in common.
He knew Ali’s breed. Much like their resident Wolverine, she would brook no foolishness when it came to the few she allowed close. She would fight to the death for the little gang Bobby, Kitty, Piotr, and herself had formed since her arrival.
Marie and Jubi had no idea the enemy Ali would be if she so much as sensed ill will regarding her new family.
“I think you’ll live, Brawler.” Piotr sighed, inspecting her face carefully. “Do you always think with your fists?”
“Kept me alive for a couple years on the streets, Mother Russia,” she replied, her voice muffled by distended flesh.
“Hey,” Kitty piped up from the floor. “I’m glad someone hit Jubi, I’m just sorry it wasn’t me.”
“What will I do with the two of you?” Piotr shook his head, squeezing Ali’s Lycra-covered knee with his free hand.
She grasped the icepack, holding it to her eye as her free hand toyed with the eyebrow-ring he’d been forced to remove. Kitty looked up, flashing him a winning grin that never quite reached her eyes.
“You love us, get over it,” she said with an amused snort.
“We’re just so cute,” Ali added quickly.
“You are enormous pains in my…” Piotr finished his comment in Russian, but both women got his meaning.
He sat on the bed beside Alison, not surprised when she all but crawled into his lap. Icepack forgotten, she snuggled into his arms, making Piotr smile. He kissed her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo as he wrapped his arms around her possessively.
This woman would likely drive him completely mad, but he would enjoy the ride. She was under his skin, creeping into his heart until he no longer knew what it would be like to evict her; the very idea was somewhat frightening. In lieu of being an idiot and pushing her away, he would rejoice in this piece of life.
Kitty cooed over a drawing she had found, bouncing up to sit beside the cuddling couple to show Alison. Piotr tilted his head, smiling quickly. He had drawn it of both girls with Kitty whispering conspiratorially into Ali’s ear. The blonde was laughing, her hand over her mouth to hold back peals of silvery mirth.
“That’s awesome!” Ali gushed. “Its screaming album cover, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kitty mused. “Am I on the album?”
“Sure!” the singer bounced in Piotr’s lap. He grunted, shifting her just slightly so that she would stop hurting “ and arousing “ him.
When a familiar knock came on the door, Piotr called for Bobby to enter. He should have been annoyed that his entire ragtag clique was invading his room, but he found himself unable to. It was as though Ali and Kitty had breathed life into his private haven.
Bobby stuck his head into the room before coming in and closing the door behind him. He had eyes only for Kitty, whom offered him a small smile.
Piotr waved him inside as Ali grabbed her icepack again. She placed it on her eye, shifting in Piotr’s lap until he hissed at her to be still. The evil little grin she gave him made his blood heat, even as Bobby faced Kitty in their friend’s bedroom.
“I can’t go back to her,” he said quietly.
Kitty immediately grasped his hands, bringing him closer. “What was that?”
“I broke up with her,” Bobby whispered against her lips. “I don’t love her.”
“Oh,” Ali sniffled. “That’s beautiful.”
Piotr shook his head. “You are an incredible sap, Brawler.”
“You love it, comrade,” she shot back, kissing him quickly.
Before he could stop her, Ali bounced out of his lap, tossing her icepack into the trashcan beside the easel.
“Come on! We’re going out!”
~**~
Logan heard the sound of piano music coming from the Rec Room and ducked into it. His latest perimeter check had gone well, his talk with Marie…not so much. The Southerner had spent two hours throwing her belongings against the wall. He dared not point out that she was not even mourning the loss of Bobby.
She was, however, spitting angry that Kitty had “stolen” the young man away. When she learned that the strange quartet had gone out to one of Dazzler’s favorite nightclubs, Marie’s mood took a sharp turn from bad to “Hell hath no fury”.
Finished ducking flying objects, Logan moved into the Rec Room, smiling at the image of Ororo seated at the piano. Hank stood beside her, a violin expertly caught between his chin and shoulder, the bow dancing gracefully over the strings.
Logan did not know what they were playing, but the tune was filled with longing, with hope. It stirred the soul, brought emotion to the back of his eyes. He leaned against the doorjamb, cigar pinched between his teeth, watching as his lover and friend seduced the duet into the still spring night.
Ororo was humming, her eyes closed as the music washed over her. Hank had a similar expression on his face, one of minute pleasure. Logan could not take his eyes off of them, letting the soulful tune slip into his heart.
He memorized the smile on Ororo’s face, wondering what it would take to have her look like that every single day. Was it the music? Her company? The simple pleasure of doing something without demands on her time? He wasn’t sure, but damn if she didn’t look carefree as she lovingly stroked the beautiful black and white keys.
The song wound down, but Logan had already made his decision. He was in love with her. Completely, recklessly, painfully in love. This wasn’t a lusty flash of fire for a woman he knew was ever out of his reach. It was a simmer, a long, slow burn that threatened to consume everything in it’s path.
That woman was going to be his, come hell, high water, or the end of the world. She was his, plain and simple.
Her deep, dark eyes opened, finding him as though sensing his presence. Ororo smiled, the gesture sending Logan’s heart directly to his feet.
Oh, yeah, he was in love. He’d have to thank his son one of these days.
~**~
Bishop melted into the shadows of midnight, not surprised at how easy it was for them to both slip out of the mansion undetected. He’d followed her to the nightclub, spotting the younger X-Men generation dancing in a throbbing nightclub.
She’d let shortly thereafter, raging as she piloted her vehicle through New York’s seedy underbelly.
He had always liked New York. It was a long-legged woman, filled with sensuality and class while flirting with debauchery. Interesting place, he had always thought. Even at the height of war, the city stood tall against all those that would attack it. New York stood as a bastion of what the world had been, what it could yet be again.
Tonight, however, it courted danger. Bishop watched her carefully, tracking her with skills taught by his overprotective father and the patience of a hunter that swam in his very blood. He knew she would do this, that it would be her time to snap. If they had waited, if she had not confronted her enemy for another few months…
Magneto would win.
She entered the apartment building, so Bishop took up residence in a nearby tree, waiting and watching. He flipped on the earpiece he’d taken from Forge before his trip back, tuning it to the matching piece he had planted on her jacket before leaving the house.
“I want to see him,” said the agitated Southern voice.
“You are?”
“Rogue. He knows me.”
Silence. The drip of a leaky faucet mingled with muffled voices and the unmistakable sound of some very enthusiastic couple squeaking bedsprings.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Pyro.
“You’re lookin’ good, John,” Marie replied. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be right out,” Pyro replied. Bishop shook his head. They should have kill that bastard when they had the chance.
“How’s your boyfriend? Happy he can fuck you now that you’re cured?”
This was the moment he’d been waiting for. It was one of the instants that Forge had drilled into his head as important. One of two things could happen, each altering the timeline that already resembled his own so little.
Bishop caught choking sounds on the audio equipment. A body hit the floor. Psylocke yelled for her lover, screaming at the Southern belle to stop hurting him.
“Well, well, well,” came the chilling voice of Magneto. “I see you have discovered the cure’s complete inability to work properly. Do release him, Rogue.”
Sounds of a scuffle, of a woman’s tears.
“You want information on the X-Men? You got it.”
“What is in it for you?” Magneto’s tone was sharp, not nearly as amused as he probably would have liked to appear.
“Revenge,” Marie answered as a whooshing sound came through the mike. “This really is a nice power, Pyro. Mind if I play with it for awhile?”
Bishop leapt from the tree branch. His work, for tonight, was done.
