Chapter One: Heartache
When you cried
I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you screamed
I’d fight away all of your fears
I’ve held your hand
Through all of these years
And you still have
All of me
~Evanescence
Pulling into the drive, she cut the engine of the motorcycle and walked it into the open garage. Children waved to her from their places on the lawn, where the grass was soft and the breeze brought to them the sweet scents of summer. She returned the gesture with a raised arm, rewarding her pupils with a small smile.
The drive back to Westchester had done her some good. Mourning for something lost, something she never really had, did a number on the control of her mutation. Though she promised Logan she would return by Monday, she took an extra day just to pull herself together.
It wasn’t going to be easy. Running this school had never been her dream. Scott had always wanted it, been groomed to take over when their mentor was gone. Ororo was pleased to just have a place here, to teach and be taught. Ambition had never really factored into it.
Now she bore the weight of his legacy. How could a person live up to such pressure? She felt so horribly alone and lost in her own demons that she feared for her sanity on more than one occasion.
“And just where in the name of Christ have you been?”
Not surprised by his harsh tone, Ororo settled the motorbike in its space beside the Mazda and patently ignored him. She pulled open the straps of her pack before removing her gloves and protective helmet. The Wolverine was just going to have to deal with her absence, she thought callously. She couldn’t explain her every whim to him.
Shaking her flattened hair, she settled the helmet on the bike seat, taking several seconds to gather herself together. In a signature move Cyclops had once called “’Roro’s Ice Shield”, she drew a chilled calm around her, separating herself from the man glowering heatedly at her back.
Grabbing her pack and tucking the helmet under her arm, she finally decided that she could face him. Though Wolverine was her only ally here at the school, she felt so little for him. Had he relented in his doomed quest to possess the mad Jean Grey when Ororo had faced him down in his room, she might have retained some feeling for him.
Respect he had. He earned in with every day he remained with the X-Men. Every lesson taught, every grunt of agreement and steady locked gaze told her that he was committed. But she didn’t trust him. With the children that had been his savior’s dream? Yes. Anything else? Never.
Her eyes were dry and without the rim of swelling, which could betray weeping, when she faced him. A soft sigh that never left her throat resounded in her mind. He was unchanged. Even in the wake of such hollow and debilitating loss, Logan looked exactly the same as he had the day she and Scott plucked him from the wintry wilds of the North. She wondered, with some heat, if anything could change the implacable Wolverine.
“Something came up.” Her reply to his growled inquiry was short; a tone most knew was a warning to back off.
Wolverine, however, seemed to have skipped that day in People Studies.
“Wait just a damn minute,” he snarled as she brushed past him. Many would never turn their back on an angry Wolverine, but Storm felt the immediate need to vacate the garage. If she didn’t, she might lose what little control over her emotions she retained.
That was unthinkable.
She moved into the main house, deliberately swinging the door behind her so that Logan had to thrust both hands out or be bashed in the skull. Ororo conceded that bashing his metal-plated cranium would likely splinter the doorframe before rendering him any real harm. It did irritate him, though, and that was worth risking the door’s life alone.
Slinging her pack over one shoulder, she placed the helmet on the rack beside Scott’s before heading down the hall. Her thick leather gloves were torn from her hands as she peeked into each common room, looking in on the children she left in Wolverine’s less than capable hands.
“Where is Jimmy?” She asked of her unwanted companion.
“I don’t know,” he grunted with some bite in his tone. “We need to talk.”
“Not right now,” Ororo replied without missing a beat. She hit the staircase at a quick pace somewhere between a saunter and a sprint.
Wolverine was in hot pursuit. His longer stride kept him right on her heels, anger and irritation radiating from his very pores. Oh, Storm knew she manipulated him into watching the children. Informing a very half-asleep Logan that she was leaving had effectively imprisoned him on the grounds while she was gone.
But what choice did she have? If they had talked about it like rational adults, he would have won. Logan always won. That got under Ororo’s skin in the worst way. She didn’t want him to win, to fight. She wanted him to leave her the hell alone.
By the time she reached the corridor that led to her room, her grip was slipping. She banged her hip into the door, sliding inside and turning to face her unlikely partner.
“Storm…”
“I said not now.”
With that, she slammed the bedroom door. Ororo heard him swear violently, even as she rested her back against the door, gripping the knob to keep steady. She didn’t want this. This wasn’t her destiny, her fight. She wanted to tear off into the wild, to be free from the pain that every stone of the mansion filled her with.
Choking back a sob, willing the skies to remain clear, she let her head fall back against the closed door. Part of her mourned for lives lost, part of her hated them for leaving her all alone. Emotions ran through her with the force of a tidal wave, crashing through carefully prepared defenses until she thought the pain would kill her.
Mutation tapped into those turbulent emotions and rain clouds swirled through the previously perfect sky. Unable to hold on any longer, her emotional purgation still too close to the surface, she let it come. Clouds cracked in the heavens, a rumble of thunder covering the soft sob that caught in her throat. Rain pelted the windows, joined by the incensed cries of children whose outdoor activities were interrupted.
Giving in to the pain, to the fear, Ororo let her body slide down the wall until she crumbled to the floor. Her hand still gripped the doorknob as she dissolved into tears that were lost on the winds.
~**~
On the other side of her door, Logan was leaning helplessly against the cool wood. He heard her sob, smelled the sudden change in the weather. A small part of him wanted to force the door open, to make her face him. The larger, dominant part ordered him to let her be.
What did he know about her feelings? Obviously she’d lost her family in the events of Alcatraz Island. There wasn’t anything he could do to soothe her pain, to lock it all away. If she wanted to do this alone, face everything on her own, who was he to stop her?
With a sigh, he pushed off from the wall and headed down the hall. The rain would drive the kids inside. He’d give Storm another afternoon off. He could take it out on her later.
~**~
Rogue quietly opened the office door the day after Storm’s return and poked her head inside curiously. To her surprise “ and relief “ the weather manipulator was standing behind the desk, looking over paperwork idly.
The elder mutant was rocking a sharp, feminine black suit in ways most women could never hope to match. Her skirt caressed bare knees, legs seeming impossibly long when aided by black pumps. The jacket was buttoned at her waist, revealing a splash of color in the form of her light, cerulean blouse.
It wasn’t surprising that Ororo Munroe was the envy of every young female student at the school. In fact, many conversations were conducted in the quiet after lights out about just that subject. Teenage girls speculated on how, exactly, the mutant known as Storm could seem so stylish and classy with little effort.
Her hair was getting longer, but the dark streaks still added youthfulness to her wise face. Rogue smiled at her mentor as she entered the room without knocking. Storm had something of an “open door” policy at the school and encouraged anyone to call on her at any time.
“Marie,” Storm greeted with an easy smile as she looked up. “Good morning.”
“Hi,” the Southern former-mutant replied, returning the smile. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Ororo said, her dark eyes warming slightly. “Come in, sit down.”
Taking the invitation immediately, Rogue moved to the nearest chair and plopped into it. Through thick and thin, one thing remained between Storm and Rogue. It was the elder woman’s hand that reached for hers in the wintry wilds of Canada. Storm’s gloved fingers had grasped hers, filling the terrified young girl with strength she’d thought long gone.
In that simple, desperate connection, something forged between the two that would take God himself to break.
Naturally, this connection made Ororo’s mental and emotional armor easy to see through. Though the makeup she’d meticulously applied covered the dark circles under her eyes, it could not disguise the redness there nor the hollow, haunted look barely concealed in the ebony depths.
Rogue respected her friend’s privacy, but the urge to press her to talk had her biting through her tongue. Keeping everything locked up inside wasn’t good, as she’d told Logan a million times. She hoped, somewhat morbidly, that Storm’s sudden trip brought her comfort. Marie hoped against hope that Storm had gone to the middle of nowhere and flipped out. It would have done her a lot of good, Marie thought.
Watching her friend carefully, Rogue smiled when Storm set her file down before settling into the chair behind her desk. Resting covered elbows on the arms of the chair, she folded her hands together and idly twisted her chair to and fro. She was relaxed, well as relaxed as the weather goddess ever got.
“How are you holding up?” Storm asked, tilting her head to regard her friend curiously.
“Life’s a bitch,” Marie answered honestly.
Storm rewarded her with a genuinely fond smile. “Truer words, my dear.”
Before they could continue, a light, almost nervous knock sounded on the closed office door.
“Come in,” Ororo called, giving her friend a long-suffering sigh and impish wink.
Jimmy came inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Rogue grinned at the young boy, whom had come to the X-Men after a short stint at home with his parents. When Jimmy told his parents that Worthington Labs would no longer pay for his “services” they demanded someone else take him.
Storm, in full leader mode, intervened smoothly. Jimmy was given a full scholarship to the school and effectively earned a place among the “freaks” of Mutant High. He was excellent at “powers-allowed-Dodgeball”, currently holding an undefeated record.
“Jimmy,” Storm said with a grin, beckoning him closer. “Is everything all right?”
“Depends on your outlook,” the boy said with quiet humor.
Though he was slowly coming out of his shell “ aided and abetted by most of the upperclassmen “ Jimmy still rarely spoke above a whisper. His smiles were always cautious, tense, as though he expected his new friends to turn on him unexpectedly.
Or for men in white coats and needles to appear, stealing him from the bit of happiness he had found at last.
Though Rogue benefited from Jimmy’s cure, she knew it still bothered him. Several mutants were cured without their permission and the guilt tore at their newest member’s already delicate heart.
He was loosening up, Rogue decided as Storm stood to give him one of her rare and overwhelming hugs.
“Who’s doing what to whom?” Storm asked when they parted, giving her young charge a small smile.
“I’m not entirely sure how it started, Iceman and Colossus are arguing in the foyer. Artie looked a little guilty and asked that someone come get you.” He grinned. “Looks like they wanted to welcome you home properly.”
Storm chuckled at this, but Rogue’s carefully tuned ears caught the tinge of sorrow and weariness in the usually light, airy sound.
The younger woman frowned, making a mental note to talk to Logan about this. Everything was eating away at their leader, someone they just couldn’t afford to lose right now.
As Storm followed Jimmy out of the office, Rogue stared at the portrait of Charles Xavier behind the desk. She shook her head, spreading her hands and whispering into the sudden quiet.
“None of us are all right,” she told him without shame. “Especially not her.”
Silence was her only answer and after several minutes of staring at his benevolent smile, Rogue left the room to face her day.
~**~
It wasn’t uncommon for Kitty Pryde to find herself surrounded by men.
On a Friday night, it was all too easy to slip into the Recreation Room with Bobby, Pete, Artie, Jimmy, and Warren. They would destroy one another on the X-Box or yank out an ancient board game, generally hanging out until midnight, which was the weekend curfew.
The scene was simple “ with the unusual addition of Rogue “ for the night after Storm returned to the mansion. The teens were gathered around the television, in various states of bed-dress, while they indulged in an action-movie-marathon.
Bobby and Marie, unhindered by her mutation any longer, were cuddled close as Matt Damon battled the CIA as the absolutely delicious Bourne. Jimmy and Artie were lounging on the floor on either sides of a bowl of popcorn, making appreciative comments as often as they could.
Warren Worthington, whom had joined the X-Men despite reconciling with his father, took up the expanse of a battered armchair, his wings twitching occasionally. He felt Kitty’s stare and glanced to her, giving his new friend a slow, cheerful smile.
As for Kitty, she found herself in somewhat of a quandary. With Bobby and Rogue all but humping on the sofa, she had found refuge on the matching loveseat. Unfortunately, Peter Rasputin had no more desire than she to put up with the overly tactile couple and plopped into the space beside her.
Kitty swallowed thickly, trying to concentrate on the current car chase, but Pete was too damn close for comfort. She would freely admit that he was adorable, especially when clad in a white tank and his favorite Snoopy pajama pants. His bare feet were perched on the edge of the loveseat, his knees drawn up to his chest. Dark hair fell over the back of the sofa as he relaxed against it.
Feeling Warren stare at her, Kitty gave him a small glare. He covered his mouth with one hand, trying to hide his very amused smirk. Since losing what was turning into a beautiful friendship with Bobby, Warren became her closest confidante.
Not that Kitty blamed the cute little Iceman. His relationship with Rogue was more important to him than ever, but she felt a little slighted. She’d not been trying to sleep with the guy or anything, she mentally fumed. Everyone needed a friend.
“Katya?”
Peter’s sudden call of her name “ in Russian as he explained years ago “ made her gulp and turn just a little too quickly. Warren soft laughter was going to be retaliated against. Soon.
“Yeah?” She asked of her companion as casually as she could.
“Would you like another Pepsi?” His question was completely innocent, completely oblivious. For some reason, his virtue only made him that much more adorable.
“Uh, yeah.” She handed him her empty glass, thanking him with a strained smile. He nodded once before hopping out of the seat and moving into the kitchen.
Kitty deflated against the chair, tossing Warren a helpless look. He shrugged, wings rustling against the back of his chair. With a sigh, Kitty turned back to the movie, trying to pay attention to Damon’s delicious backside rather than her turbulent libido.
Before Pete returned with their refills, the mansion’s front door slammed closed. Kitty winced, wondering if it was Logan. He’d probably ream them for still being awake, an hour past curfew. They could usually get away with it, so long as they were quiet. Storm, to their relief, was already asleep upstairs.
Kitty, Bobby, and Marie all leaned back against their sofas, trying to get a look at whom had just entered the mansion. Kitty could have sworn she heard a female giggle and shot a look to her companions.
“Shut up, woman,” Wolverine was growling. “Don’t wake the kids.”
Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock, even as Kitty and Marie broke into soundless giggles.
“You didn’t say you had kids,” came the slurred reply of an unfamiliar woman.
Dead curious now, Kitty crawled across the loveseat and leaned over the arm, trying to get a look at Logan’s…“friend”. The others were scrambling to see as well, the movie completely forgotten behind them.
When Pete appeared, Kitty waved him over silently, urging him to be quiet. Seeming to catch on Pete deposited their drinks on the nearby pool table and jogged over, glancing curiously at his friends.
Kitty pointed to the foyer door that was only open a crack, just enough to let a beam of light through. They could see the outline of a man and woman embracing, silhouetted in the hallway light. Wolverine’s signature Stetson was on the woman’s head, his hands on places that were just a touch past the “friendly” line.
Controlling her giggles, Kitty leaned further, all but climbing on a highly amused Colossus to get a better look at this latest development.
“Not my kids,” their teammate said gruffly. “This is a school. Now hush.”
“A school?” The woman giggled as Logan lifted her into his arms, carrying her down the hall. “I never had a teacher like you.”
Wolverine’s reply was too soft, too far down the hall to be heard by the salivating teens. Once they were sure their teacher was not going to hear them, Kitty turned immediately to Marie, her mouth open in shock.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Shit,” Bobby cut in. “If Storm catches him with a girl in his room…”
Pete chuckled quietly. “That will be quite a sight.”
Startled that his voice was so close to her, Kitty looked over at him sharply. Pete’s face was scant inches from hers and his massive hands were warm on her waist. In her haste to see what Wolverine was up to, Pete had apparently been forced to grip her, to keep the curious mutant from falling.
Heat crept into her cheeks, making her cast her eyes to the floor. Warren was laughing again, she hoped at whatever it was Artie had just said. Pete’s eyes were on Kitty, gauging her quietly as she slowly slipped from his grasp.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
~**~
Logan tumbled onto the bed in a mess of limbs and partially removed clothing. The raven beauty in his arms had a name, but he couldn’t rightly remember what it was. Her mouth was on his neck, suckling and licking until his eyes crossed from the pleasure.
A night at Harry’s didn’t usually end up like this, but two pool games and a lot of liquor later meant that his inhibitions “ what little he had “ were down around his ankles. Hell, if Storm could vanish for the weekend without explanation, he could certainly find his own solace his own way.
Her body was warm, willing, filled with feminine curves and the delights of flesh. Here nothing could matter save animalistic lust and pure, primal pleasure. She knew, as well as he did, that there wasn’t anything else between them.
She tore her mouth from his to rip his t-shirt off even as he flicked open the button fly of her jeans. She giggled somewhat girlishly at his haste, the sound morphing into a groan as heated flesh crashed together.
He still had his boots on and was too far-gone to kick them off. Logan worked his own jeans to his knees, grinning ferociously when she parted her thighs in offering. One deep thrust and he was inside, their panted breath mingling in the darkness of his room.
His pace was immediate and bruising, forcing thoughts of death and children and sorrow from his tortured mind. For a few minutes, he would know some goddamn peace. That’s all he wanted, just a moment to get away.
She clenched around him, long nails tearing at the naked flesh of his shoulders. His hands slid up her back, bringing her closer until he could feast on the swells of breast. The girl was chanting to God, her words a plea for more. Logan obliged, drawing her knees up so he sank further inside of her.
It was over in a hot flash of brilliant light, their bodies tensing before succumbing to the limp, languid afterglow. The girl rolled over, releasing him and promptly dropped into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.
Logan regarded her for a moment, chuckling as she lightly snored on his bed. He divested himself of his boots and jeans, moving with unashamed nakedness through his private room. Deciding his companion would feel better unclothed, he quickly worked her bra off and tossed her panties “ which were snagged on one ankle “ onto the floor.
He took a cigar and moved to the window, looking out into the darkness. Body still thrumming with post-coital release, he inhaled blissful nicotine and braced one arm on the wall.
Storm would probably kill him if she knew he’d brought a woman home, but he couldn’t possibly care less. Maybe his brash move would invoke her wrath…anything against the silence she’d gifted him with upon her return.
Oh, she was still the strict, loving headmistress, but every time Logan looked at her, he was reminded that her family was gone. Every day, a little piece of her seemed to die inside and all he could do was watch it happen.
Disturbed by his thoughts, by the fact that he’d broken his own vow to not delve into that shit tonight, he shook his head. Whatever was going on in Storm’s head was her own business. Granted, he did have the upperclassmen watching her closely. Kitty was concerned that Storm might try something…permanent, so they were careful around her.
Logan knew better, but thought it best to go along with the nervous kitten. Storm was loyal and responsible above all else. She would never leave the children behind, no matter how badly she was taking things. He was confident that in time she would really pull herself up, dust her ass off, and move on.
Yeah, he thought with a drag on his cigar, she just needed time.
~**~
“Jesus!”
Two rooms away, Ororo woke with a start. Her body was coated in sweat, mind whirling from the embrace of realistic nightmares. She rolled on her bed, burying her head in her pillow as Scott’s face continued to haunt her weary mind.
“Scott…just leave me alone. Stop haunting me.”
She controlled another embarrassing crying jag, calming her breathing as Henry had taught her years ago. It would take time, she remembered him saying clearly just weeks ago. She would be lost to nightmares and regret while she mourned.
Hank, however, had no idea that she’d lost the man she loved.
Feeling like the worst sort of betrayer, she bounced out of her bed to pace in her night things. Back at Alkali Lake, she could admit to her feelings without fear. At home, just the admission to herself made her feel traitorous and wrong. She harbored her feelings for so long, tucking them away even as Scott fell for Jean.
I don’t know what it is. His voice echoed in her mind, a conversation long forgotten. She just stirs me up, ‘Roro. God, if this is falling in love, I don’t want to stop.
Ororo looked to the ceiling as rain pelted the rooftop. Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks, sorrow mingling with rage. Scott loved her so truly, so deeply, and for his love he was given death. Trembling as emotion rolled over her yet again, Ororo turned sharply to glare at a large, framed picture of Jean from years before.
It had been snowing, she remembered. Jean always loved snow, always asked Ororo to make sure there was a good two feet blanketing the ground on Christmas morning. In the photograph, Scott was laughing at something Jean had said, the two of them staring at one another with forever in their eyes.
She screamed. Ororo could no longer control herself. Rushing across the room, she ripped the frame from the wall before spinning on the balls of her feet. Shouting something she would never remember, she brought the frame down on the post of her bed, shattering the glass with the force of her rage.
Not enough. The simple destruction could not assuage the pain in her heart. She brought the photograph down again and again, fighting with demons inside that she knew she could never be rid of. Her fury broke the silence of night, threatening to wake the students that slept peacefully on her floor. She could not bring herself to worry if they would come to the door. She tossed the photo aside and grasped another, bringing it down with force on the rounded wooden post until her floor was littered with a thousand glass fragments.
