[Reviews - 109]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 2232 times

- Text Size +




A silvery beam of full moonlight slid into the darkened room through the white gossamer drapes to settle softly on the face of the sleeping woman.

Logan breathed a deep sigh of relief upon seeing that Ororo had finally drifted into slumber. For the past three days she had only snatched cat-naps here and there as she took turns sitting vigil next to Moira’s and Chuck’s respective bedsides.

Shaking off his own exhaustion, Logan walked silently into the room and sat his own bed-side vigil. Settling comfortably in a deep cushioned chair with a direct line of sight to the bed, Logan drank in the sight of Ororo’s relaxed form, idly noting the way the shadows lengthened her lashes and how the moonlight made her hair look almost silver.

In sleep, Ororo’s face looked younger, more vulnerable. Logan unashamedly enjoyed this opportunity to simply study her at leisure. Seeing her like this made him realize how closely she kept herself guarded.

What was it that made her keep such a shield between herself and the world? Was it the tragedy of witnessing her biological parents’ deaths at such an early age? Was it the pain of being so exotically different looking? She’d told him that she’d been teased mercilessly as a youngster and hadn’t really grown into her looks until she’d reached adulthood. Logan couldn’t imagine Ororo looking anything other than stunningly beautiful. Or was it being left at the altar by the guy who, by all accounts, was her first true love? For someone with as much pride and dignity as Ororo, that humiliation would have been devastating.

Snorting softly at his uncharacteristically philosophical musings, Logan allowed his mind to turn to the events of the past few days. He’d never forget the clutch of panic that struck at him when he’d returned home after a long meandering bike ride only to listen to a series of increasingly frantic phone messages from Scott, Betsy and Jubilee.

Cursing himself for not taking his cell phone along, Logan hopped back on his bike and broke every traffic law twice over to get to the hospital. Once there he was horrified to learn that Moira was in the intensive care unit in a coma having come through her emergency surgery. Meanwhile the professor’s prognosis was unknown since he was still undergoing his own surgery to repair massive internal injuries.

One look at Ororo had told him that she was on the ragged edge of nowhere. Her skin was pasty, her eyes haunted and her body held tensely as if waiting for a killing blow. He knew that she had been trying to prepare herself for the worst while desperately hoping for the best.

Scott, his own face lined with worry and fatigue, had greeted him thankfully.

“What tha hell happened?” Logan had asked. Scott told him about the accident.

“The only reason they are still alive is because there was apparently some guy who saw the accident. “ Scott continued, “He witnessed the whole thing and used his cell phone to call 911. If he hadn’t been there and the response so immediate, they would have simply died from their injuries right there on the scene.”

Yesterday Logan decided to go check out the scene of the accident and realized that it was a true miracle that the two had survived. The car had literally smashed into a retaining rock wall that stretched for three miles along a lightly traveled two-lane road. Thank God for airbags and good Samaritans, Logan thought fervently.

Charles had come out of his surgery; the list of internal injuries had been mind boggling. His condition was critical but the doctors were guardedly optimistic. It wasn’t until Charles had finally, groggily opened his eyes for a few moments, that Ororo had allowed herself to relax a little.

And even then she had insisted on getting the name of the eyewitness so she could personally thank him. The police had promised to contact the man and get back to her. She had had to be satisfied with that.

And now she was home and asleep. Moira was still in a coma, but Charles was on the mend albeit drugged into insensibility. And both were blessedly alive.

As for Logan, sitting here in the moonlight staring at his own personal version of sleeping beauty, he could finally admit to himself that his feelings for her had changed irrevocably. She looked to him as her friend, but he wanted more. It astounded him how much he wanted more.

Soul searching was not his strong point, but he was nothing if not brutally frank with himself. Almost clinically Logan peeled back the layers of his heart and examined his feelings for Jean. It was as if a veil had been lifted that day Hank died. The day Jeannie had unequivocally let him know that Scott was for love and Logan was for sex.

He’d been so consumed by his feelings of guilt, rage and betrayal, that he never noticed until recently that one feeling was conspicuously absent.

Pain.

If his feelings for Jeannie really were love, shouldn’t he be hurting? After all the anger had receded shouldn’t there at least be an ache of loss? But under the rage had been --- relief. He was relieved that it was over. And relieved no one had ever found out. Oh, he had enjoyed the sex. It had been hot, dangerous and uninhibited. But there had always been an underlying sense of… wrongness. Much of that he attributed to their deception of a decent guy like Scott, but Logan had finally realized that being with Jean didn’t complete him like he’d thought it would.

Other than the sex, what else did they even have in common? They never talked about anything of substance. Through the veil, Logan had loved an ideal. And his love was sustained by the fact that Jeannie had been unattainable. But once it had been ripped away, he was confronted with the reality. He didn’t know Jeannie’s favorite color, her favorite movie or even what her politics were. In short, while he had loved the idea of Jeannie, he didn’t even know if he’d even like the real person.

But with Ororo, something about her sang to something deep within his soul. It amazed him that he’d remained blind to her for so long. How could he have so blithely relegated her to the status of a buddy, when she was so much more? He knew Ororo. He knew her. Over the past two years, he and Ororo had had many long, involved conversations and debates on all manner of the things ranging from the war policy to which season of Survivor was the best. They completed each other’s sentences. They shared loud arguments just as easily as they shared comfortable silences.

With Hank’s death and now with Charles and Moira having narrowly escaped death, Logan refused to let himself waste anymore time. It sounded so cliché, but it was true. Life was precious. You did have to live every day to the fullest because you never knew when it would be snatched away.

Now that he’d acknowledged what he was beginning to feel, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity with Ororo pass him by.


-:¦:-.•:*'""*:•.-:¦:-


Ororo stretched luxuriously, slowly opening her eyes to squint as the bright winter white sunlight flooded her room.

For a moment she simply allowed herself to snuggle under her down comforter and settled even more deeply into the plush pillowtop of her king sized mattress. Until she remembered her father and Moira and jerked up quickly, her eyes whipping to the clock on the bedside table.

The amber numbers blinked 8:32 am and Ororo groaned. 8:32? Why hadn’t her alarm gone off? She had set it for 6:30 am. Scrambling out of bed, Ororo quickly checked her phone for messages. The doctor had promised to call if there was any change in either Charles or Moira.

After hearing the mechanical voice tell her there were no new messages, Ororo wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or disappointed. She finally decided to go with ‘relieved’ at least there was no change for the worse. With that small comforting thought, she headed for her bathroom, her mind awhirl with thoughts and plans for the day.

She had two classes that she simply couldn’t sub out for another day. That meant that she couldn’t make it to the hospital until this afternoon. Since Charles was out of commission, there was probably a mountain of things needed doing on his desk. Emma was frighteningly efficient as Charles’ second-in-command, but she was relatively new. Ororo would have to check in to see how she was faring.

Turning on the taps on the showerhead so that the water came out full blast and blazingly hot, Ororo stepped under the pelting spray. It was then that the tears came.

Suppressed emotions broke free and struck with the force of a hurricane gale, sending Ororo to her knees. Huddling in the corner of the stall, she gave into all that she’d been bottling up for years. She cried for Hank. She cried for his lost possibilities. She cried because she couldn’t love him the way he’d deserved. She cried for her father and Moira. But most of all she cried for herself. Reaching deep, she let go of the years of despair over losing her own parents and her lonely and often unfriendly childhood. She cried over her aborted wedding and the loss of dreams. And finally she cried over her own unrequited love for Logan.

It was raw, elemental and absolutely cathartic. It was also cleansing, healing and absolutely necessary. By the time the maelstrom had passed, Ororo’s throat was aching from the harsh, racking sobs and the water had long since gone tepid. Quickly washing, Ororo turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower.

Back in her bedroom, Logan was pacing like a wild man. He’d come in with a large steaming mug of coffee and a bagel, planning to force both of them down her throat. Instead he was confronted with the sounds of her raw grieving. Even through the thick door and the din of the shower he could hear her cries. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to tear through the door with his very fingernails. But he held himself back. On some level he knew that she needed to do this.

The door flew open and Ororo, wrapped in a vividly patterned towel stepped into her room, only to stop upon seeing Logan standing there.

They stared at each other silently for a heartbeat, before Logan picked up the coffee and nonchalantly handed it to her.

“I knew I’d get my ass chewed for turnin’ off your alarm. I thought maybe this’d make it go down easier.”

Ororo knew that Logan had to have heard her crying. Thankful that he hadn’t made a big deal of it, she smiled and accepted the coffee without comment. Her eyes closed blissfully at the first sip of the aromatic brew.

Logan studied her carefully; her eyes were puffy, her skin was a bit pruned from the prolonged exposure to water, and she must have bitten into her bottom lip because it was swollen. She looked absolutely beautiful. Just seeing her standing there in that towel, the drops of water glistening on her skin and knowing she was naked under that towel made his mouth go dry.

He really needed to leave the room, now, before he made an ass of himself. But before he could move, Ororo set the coffee on the bedside table and came toward him.

“Logan,” she said softly, touching his forearm “I…just…” she seemed to be struggling for words until finally giving up she just said “thanks.”

Unable to help himself, Logan moved closer, tipping her chin up and looking into her eyes.

“You don’t need ta thank me, Darlin’” a smile quirked his lips “You’re still the baddest chick I know. A coupla tears won’t change that.”

Ro chuckled. She suddenly felt like herself again, only a little lighter and freer.

“I bet you tell that to all the girls.” She drawled with some of her old spirit.

“Aw, Darlin’ I told ya before. You’re tha only girl in my heart.” His voice was teasing but his eyes were intent upon hers.

Ro’s breath hitched a little as her heart sped up.

Keeping his finger under her chin, Logan slowly, deliberately, leaned in and placed his lips on hers. It was a simple, sweet kiss nothing like they’d ever had before. With a sigh Ro leaned in and deepened the pressure, her hand tightening on his forearm.

Logan opened his mouth and the kiss went from sweet to sizzling in a heartbeat. Both of them reveled in the sheer pleasure of kissing each other until, almost as one, they realized they were actually kissing each other.

Pulling away, they both stumbled back half a step; Logan’s finger was still on her chin and Ro’s hand was still clutched to his arm.

“Fuck - !” Logan breathed.

“Shit ..!” Ororo swallowed.

They stared at each other -- blue eyes filled with shock, brown eyes filled with awe -- both breathing deeply.

Finally Logan cleared his throat “Ro, we need ta talk. I…” this time it was Logan’s turn to struggle until with a sigh he simply looked at her, a promise in his eyes “Look, you don’t need this right now.” He caressed her face before dropping his hand altogether and moved toward the door. With one last inscrutable glance at her, he slipped out, closing the door quietly.

Stock still in the middle of the room, Ororo could only stare at the closed door. After a moment, she lifted a trembling hand to her still tingling lips.

“Oh but Logan," Ororo whispered into the silent room “I think I do.”





You must login () to review.