Chapter Five: Holy Matrimony
One more kiss could be the best thing
But one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And you're not something I deserve
In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me
~3 Doors Down
Betsy did not wait for Alison to run back from the boathouse. One quick scan of the link she always kept open for Logan confirmed her worst fears. Oh, Jean was subtle, but how could Psylocke have missed the signs? They were all there, in black and white, waiting to be discovered.
She rushed through the halls, scattering Bobby and Warren from their indoor hockey game as she bolted for the stairs two at a time. Summoning Charles through the X-Men’s own mental link proved impossible, which meant he was either locked in with Cerebro or in deep meditation.
In either case, Betsy hated interrupting him “ especially since she knew a telepath’s need to order the mind properly “ but this absolutely could not wait.
“Charles?”
Betsy pushed the office door open without warning, without knocking. Inside the expansive room where the Professor dealt with school business and held his classes lay his work materials and books, though the man himself was no where to be found.
“Damn it.” Betsy swore, smacking her pale hand against the cool wood of his office door. She took off once more, this time descending the stairs two at a time in her haste to find the elevator that would take her to the lower levels.
“Hold it!” Betsy demanded as she skidded to a stop. Alison waited inside the elevator, her emerald eyes wild and hair mussed from the swift run back from the boathouse.
“Babe. What’s going on?” Ali pressed as Betsy leapt into the elevator and slammed her hand against the button to take them down.
“I am absolutely stupid!” Betsy exploded. It was not in her nature to reveal feelings or intuition so readily, but Ali was different and the situation bad. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. She must have got to him early, before he knew much about telepaths. She’s clever, the cheeky bitch. God in heaven, she fooled me as well.”
Ali’s eyes remained wild, though confusion now entered the mix. “All right, baby, I can’t understand you when you’re hysterical. Calm down, tell me what’s going on.”
But the elevator doors opened before Alison even finished her sentence and Betsy squeezed out of the metal contraption as though all the demons of hell were snapping at her heels.
“Cerebro.” Betsy decided, running through the halls so swiftly her sneakers squeaked on the polished tile floors. “We have to tell him. He’s the only one that can break the connection.”
“Connection?” Her blonde fiancée questioned, struggling to keep up. Because of their mental link, Psylocke could almost hear her mind suddenly gasp as the realization hit her.
“That cold bitch is manipulating him?! No. Fucking. Way.”
Only a heartbeat before Psylocke reached Cerebro, she felt an unimaginable pain rip through her mind. She buckled without pause, both hands grasping her temples to silence the screams echoing through her tortured psyche. Tears poured unchecked down flushed cheeks as her body seized with the influx of pain.
Distantly, she heard Alison scream for her, but Betsy’s spinning mind could take no more. Darkness took her fiercely and silence rang as she drifted away from consciousness.
~**~
“What happened?”
Alison held Psylocke in her arms, her throat hoarse from screaming for help. Betsy had turned ashen from what her lover could only term an attack on her telepathic mind. Finally, aid came in the form of Angel and Iceman, both summoned as if by God to the lower levels.
“I don’t know.” Ali insisted, still cradling her comatose companion. “We were trying to find the Professor and all of the sudden she just collapsed. How did you guys hear me?”
“We didn’t,” Bobby replied. He kneeled beside Psylocke, grasping one hand. “The Professor was screaming in our heads. We came as fast as we could.”
“Screaming? What?” Dazzler immediately felt rage begin to overcome her concern. If Jean had attacked the other resident telepaths to keep them from uncovering her disgusting secret, Alison was going to rip her apart.
Cerebro’s doors hissed open a moment later, the hydraulic pumps releasing the locks that protected Charles from fatal interruption during his sessions. All three conscious mutants turned, expecting immediate answers as the motorized wheelchair approached. Dazzler’s head ached from the emotions swirling through it. Everything to do with Jean had to be brought to the house’s attention. What she was doing was deplorable and dangerous.
Looking into the haggard face of the Professor, though, Ali felt her chest tighten with anxiety. They had all known him long enough to read thoughts and emotions in those cerulean eyes. Charles was ever open to his mismatched family, letting them see deep into his soul. Alison typically found warmth, love, and even a hint of amusement staring back at her from those expressive eyes. But today something was horribly amiss. Charles kept his eyes expressionless, his face a blank mask that seemed alien on his usually handsome features.
Wordlessly, Charles pulled his wheelchair up beside Dazzler and the lifeless Psylocke. One pale hand reached down, lightly touching her violet-capped head. Almost immediately Betsy sat up, those bottomless eyes blinking as she woke. Alison gripped her delicate fingers more tightly, keeping her beloved on her lap. The blonde mutant did not know what had happened, but she wasn’t taking any chances with the woman she loved.
“Professor?” Betsy asked softly. Eyes locked, seemingly oblivious to the other X-Men waiting for an explanation with bated breath. “Is it true?”
Charles nodded once, sharply, as if the motion caused him great pain. “Cyclops and Storm were due to check in with me an hour ago. I have heard nothing from them. When I tried to establish a mental link with them, Scott let down his mental barriers.”
“What’s that mean?” Iceman demanded, his hands clenched into icy fists. “Where are they?”
“They landed in Boston two hours ago, but I fear they were intercepted. I could not detect what came after them or where they have been taken,” Charles reported almost woodenly. “When Scott broke through, he filtered in every pain and fear he was experiencing. Because Betsy was trying to contact me at the same moment, she intercepted the ‘message’.”
“Someone is hurting them.” Psylocke continued, struggling to stand. Ali watched her carefully, but there was not even a sway to her willowy stature. “I got the impression that Storm is…incapacitated.”
“What?” Angel whispered, his innocent eyes widening with fear. “What does that mean?”
“I do not know for certain.” Charles admitted stiffly. “Psylocke you will lead the mission. All of you, suit up. I fear we have little time to find Storm and Cyclops.”
Wordlessly, the four X-Men turned to prepare for their mission.
No one thought to contact Wolverine and Jean.
~**~
In the boathouse, Wolverine found himself wrapped around the slender, fragrant body of his girlfriend. He smiled dreamily, holding her more closely as dusk descended over the Great Lawn. No one had bothered them, and so they lost themselves to the fulfillment of lust and budding love.
Why had he been so thickheaded? Of course he loved Jeannie. Wasn’t she the most beautiful and precious thing in the world? Logan grunted happily, keeping Jean cradled to his chest as though he never wanted to let go. Wasn’t that the truth? Why would anyone want to let go of her?
He saw the smile on Jean’s face and nuzzled the sensual curve between shoulder and throat playfully. There were no more lies here. She loved him wholly, completely, filling up the emptiness he’d been plagued with for fifteen years. Well, Logan need search no more. Everything he wanted was right here on the sitting room floor of an old boathouse.
Though something in the back of his mind was screaming, Logan paid it no mind. Something distracted him from those petty, stupid thoughts. No, he needn’t bother with whatever his mind was telling him right now. What mattered above everything else was Jean and holding her close. They could be like this forever. Perhaps she would even marry him. He could rebuild the boathouse and create a home for them. Perhaps they would have children. Wouldn’t Jean’s children be beautiful?
The warm, sated feeling in his chest grew exponentially. He liked the thought of living in this little house, surrounded by a crew of red haired babies. Of course, it was only logical! When a man and woman loved one another this much, it seemed proper to take the necessary steps. Oh, yes.
“Marry me.”
His soft, guttural whisper made the precious creature in his arms shiver. She turned to him, those deep emerald eyes blinked slowly, glittering with joyous tears.
“When?”
Logan’s heart might well have exploded. She wanted to marry him! But he grunted, a sharp pain in the back of his mind sending a chill through the chest made warm by Jean’s tender love. Logan shook his head to clear it. Because his eyes were closed he did not see Jean’s determined look nor did he feel the gentle block in his mind.
All he knew was the pain stopped. Logan took Jean back into his arms, settling down without thinking of anything but her.
“Now.”
~**~
A thick blanket of fog covered their landing. Thunder concealed the roar of the Blackbird’s engine. If anyone questioned the odd weather, they could not have guessed that a woman hundreds of feet above the ground caused the sudden summer storm. She reveled in the call of it, the song only she could hear dancing on frantic winds. Every time she used her mutation, resisting the urge to go out and revel in it took her breath away. Keeping her mind on the controls at her fingertips, Storm promised herself she would dash off into the tempest as soon as their mission completed.
“Ready?”
Turning her head slightly, Ororo nodded quickly. She unbuckled the harness across her chest that would protect her in case of a crash. Cyclops stood at the hatch ready to depart their jet. They’d located an empty field behind the house they needed to enter. Somewhere in the vicinity a young mutant was exploding on an irregular basis. Storm and Cyclops, upon hearing this, doubled the body armor beneath their X-Men uniforms.
Better safe than dead. Cyclops had smiled. Storm couldn’t help but chuckle. He tried so hard to keep their conversation light, the topics varied. Neither of them wanted another emotionally draining discussion on mistakes, regrets, and times long gone by. Storm didn’t think her heart could take it anymore. Cyclops had made the decision; one Scott had to live with.
When they were prepared, Cyclops opened the hatch and set his handsome face into a mask of determination. Storm exhaled slowly, soothingly, letting the call of her mutation soothe the agitation set in by several hours alone with the man she’d wanted to marry only a year ago.
“Get back!”
Startled by the sudden shout, Ororo instinctively jumped into the air. Winds heeded her immediate call, lifting her to relative safety. Confused and startled, Storm looked to the ground, finding the red-hot optic beams slicing through the fog surrounding a large Victorian where they expected to find the object of their mission. Instead, as Storm gained her bearings, she noted they were completely surrounded.
“Cyclops!” Storm shouted over the howling winds at her command, letting him roll onto a current before she whisked him over the jet to safety.
Her comm. link crackled as she flattened her body and flew toward her companion. Landing delicately beside him, Ororo checked her friend over for signs of injury. When she found none, she winced at the sounds of bullets tearing into the Blackbird.
“Who is it?” Storm demanded. “The last I checked, Magneto’s Brotherhood found human weaponry useless.”
“Its not Magneto.” Cyclops agreed. “Looks like a military faction. Maybe Weapon X.”
Confused, Storm lifted her arms, making white-hot lightning dance on the opposite side of the jet, ensuring that their attackers had more to think about than their precise location. “Weapon X?”
“Long story.” Cyclops explained. “Wolverine used to work for them. Apparently they experiment on mutants, then use them as assassins and the like.”
“Wonderful,” Storm grumbled. “Do you think we surprised them?”
“I think it was a trap.” Cyclops glanced at her, his eyes narrowed behind the ruby-quartz of his visor. “Someone knew we were coming and managed to hoodwink the professor.”
“This might be frisky.” Storm offered a small smile. “We need to get back into the jet. I’ll go high and distract them. Get the jet to take off and come get me.”
Cyclops grasped Storm by the bicep before she could take to the air, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Concern, fear, everything he wasn’t saying reflected in miniscule changes of his facial expression. With a pang centered near her heart, Storm realized that she could still read those changes, no matter how she tried to forget them.
“You can’t use yourself as bait.”
Before Storm could respond, Cyclops’ entire body went stiff. His grip on her arm tightened until Ororo knew she would have bruises. Her face must have betrayed the confusion, for Cyclops smiled tightly.
“Go. Go home.” His voice was quiet, filled with pain even as their attackers opened fire again. “”Ro, run.”
“Scott?” Ororo braced herself as he collapsed. One hand went to his chest, trying to hold his heavy body upright. The feel of something warm and sticky against the leather of his uniform betrayed her worst fear. “Scott! No!”
A hole the size of her thumb pumped red life-blood out of Scott’s chest. Their attackers had used some sort of armor-piercing rounds that sliced through the jet and her companion’s armor while scarcely making a sound. Ororo screamed and the heavens snapped into turmoil above. The whirl and roar of a cyclone pushed even the jet away as Storm cradled Cyclops’ limp body against her chest. She tried in vain to stop the bleeding while the elements raged in her name.
The static electricity swirling the duo cut off all contact between the X-Men and their mentor. Ororo sat in the eye of her tornado with Scott in her arms and wept.
~**~
He awoke with a groan of pain. Everything in his body hurt. Cold seemed to seep into his very bones, the sort of cold no one can recover from. His eyes opened painfully, gritty from whatever torture his body had endured. A bandage had been taped to his chest, and when he touched the stained cloth he found that someone had stitched together the bullet hole.
Apparently, they didn’t want him dead.
Unable to sit up, Scott noticed the intravenous tubing that snaked away from the bed. They were hydrating him, though he shivered with cold. He found that the bed upon which he lay was metallic, something out of a hospital nightmare. Though he tried to move, Scott found his hands and feet chained to the bed, giving him only minor movement. All he could do was touch the bandage and lift his head.
The world was still stained with red, as always. With a start, Scott realized he had opened his eyes without even ensuring that his visor was in place. Thankfully, whomever was interested in the mutants had obviously done their homework.
Across the room, Cyclops caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he peered into the shadows, hoping against hope that Storm had escaped. Of course, she would rouse the Calvary. His ex-girlfriend was nothing if not dependable.
“Scott?”
“Ororo?” Cyclops struggled to sit up, his hope of a speedy recovery out the window. “Are you all right?”
He heard a choked sob; the weak screech of body against metallic bed. Turning his head as far as he could, Scott tried desperately to see further into the hidden corner. A single, bloodied hand fell over the side of the other bed, the strong steel chain glittering in the faint light from the lamp across the room.
“Storm?” Scott struggled against his restraints, all manner of horrible visions fluttering behind his closed lids. She was hurt. God, don’t let her die. Don’t let her die. Please. Someone help her. Someone help her.
The door swung open as Scott thrashed against the bed. He did not realize the internal screams were indeed vocal and roused the guards outside. A slender woman wearing a long white lab coat rushed over to his bed, chiding him for attempting to escape and tearing his stitches open in the process.
A needle pricked his arm and Scott was once more swallowed by darkness.
When he woke the second time, he did so with a scream of fury. He could hear her. The terrible sound of Storm screaming in tortured pain seared him to the soul. Not even fully awake from his drugged sleep, Cyclops struggled against the restraints. They couldn’t hurt her anymore. Make it stop. Make it stop.
His eyes opened swiftly, immediately landing on the woman he prayed for so fervently.
Storm dangled in the center of their “hospital” room, chains clasped at her wrists that seemed anchored to the low ceiling. Her body swung drunkenly as a group of men in white coats surrounded her listless form. They were using something on her, drawing out those horrible screams from her beautiful throat.
“Would you look at those spikes?” One of them was saying conversationally. “So much power.”
“Two feet of rain already. That’s impossible!” Another chimed in, his voice akin to an excited child.
“Stop it!” Scott yelled from his bed. “Leave her alone!”
“Hush now.” Came a cool female voice. Scott had not even noticed the doctor standing behind him, fiddling with the bags attached to the IV in his arm.
“Stop!” Cyclops pulled harder at the restraints, finding he now had less freedom.
The gaggle of doctors parted enough to let Scott truly see Ororo’s body as it hung limply from the ceiling. Her bloodied hands bore obvious cuts from the shackles clasped at the wrists. Her face swelled already with what seemed to be a blow to her cheek. Storm’s eyes were milk white as her mutation raged, letting the elements describe her pain, her hopelessness. Scott scarcely recognized Storm’s naked body, the horror of what they were doing to her making his stomach roil with the urge to vomit.
That white head lifted slightly, meeting his eyes over the heads of the doctors. Ororo smiled slightly, weakly, as though the comforting gesture took nearly all of her strength.
“We should keep her.” One of the men said simply. “We didn’t intend to capture them, but this one is a good find.”
“Mmm,” another agreed. “We’ll release the male subject at the border.”
“Cut her down.”
Ororo’s body hit the floor with a sickening thud. Scott would ever recall what she did next and with a surge of such pride it would never diminish. Ororo did not crumple to the floor, but caught her weight on her hands. Though she trembled from the strength it took her to remain up, she lifted that beautiful face with an expression of the deepest loathing.
“Is that,” she gasped weakly. “All you’ve got?”
The doctors laughed. “She reminds me of Wolverine! What a team they would make!”
Scott stilled his struggles. Wolverine. That was their plan. They wanted to capture him. He realized in that moment these men were indeed part of Weapon X. Of course they wanted their assassin back, the indomitable Wolverine tucked safely away at the mutant school. Scott kept his eyes on Storm as she glared at the doctors torturing her.
Ororo glanced back at Cyclops, her eyes returning to the brilliant shade of blue that was so familiar. The elements calmed instantly. Scott marveled at her control. How could anyone keep their emotions in check after that?
“Again.” One of the doctors ordered, seemingly put out at the sudden calm. “This time increase the intervals.”
Ororo laughed. “Do you want to play again?”
Scott had enough. As they raised Storm back up so she dangled from the ceiling, Scott turned his head. They laughed, thinking he could no longer watch the proceedings. But as Cyclops used the edge of his bed to slide his visor down, he felt a sick sort of violent triumph.
“Get down!” He shouted to Storm before turning his head again. His eyes opened, releasing a flood of optic beams unfettered by modern technology. The pure force of his mutation punched a hole in the room, letting in the sunlight and scattering the doctors previously gathered around Ororo’s hanging body.
He closed his eyes again, struggling against the doctor trying to inject what he assumed was another sedative into his bloodstream. The room rocked precariously. They had been moving. Scott felt another tinge of victory as he realized they were not completely lost. If the team was in transport, they had not yet reached their secret facility and so the mutants they had captured were not nearly as secure as one might hope. Scott heard another thud and wished he could open his eyes. The needle pricked his flesh and he braced for the sting of a sedative. But only a moment later, the needle was yanked away and he felt a familiar hand touch his brow.
“Here.” Ororo told him, slipping the visor over his eyes. Scott opened them as soon as he knew she would be protected.
The restraints came away quickly and Scott sat up, ignoring the pain in his chest and back. Storm accepted his embrace quickly, gingerly holding him before she urged him to move.
“Come on.” Storm demanded, pulling Scott carefully out of the bed. They hobbled, naked and shivering, toward the exit Cyclops had easily sliced into the metal room. Ororo pushed both bodies out of the truck, avoiding gunshots as the winds swirled, lifting them to safety.
They vanished into the air, Storm using the elements to protect them from gunfire while they escaped. Scott drifted back out of consciousness, comforted by the feel of Ororo’s storm.
~**~
She managed to find a dress suitable for the occasion in only minutes, charging her pretty frock to the mansion. Charles wouldn’t mind, really, not when he heard the good news. Surely, if he could bless the bastardized version of this ceremony between two women, a more traditional merging of lives would not be so far off base.
They found a Justice willing to perform the ceremony, got their license in order “ who cared if they had to forge Logan’s name and social security number? Would anyone really mind?
So it was within two hours that Jean and Logan stood before the Justice of the Peace in a town hall, staring at one another with stars in their eyes. Jean, of course, concentrated on keeping the wool pulled firmly over Logan’s eyes. He wanted this. If he didn’t, Jean was sure he would have found a way out of her mental lock down. He had not and so she comforted herself, drove away the guilt by reminding herself that Logan never did anything he did not want to.
They said “I do” at precisely six o’clock, just as the nearby church bell tolled. Didn’t Logan look wonderful in his rented tuxedo? She was beautiful, innocent in a simple dress of pure white. She dazzled him, making sure of it through the link she created during the careful manipulation.
At exactly six-oh-four, the Justice pronounced them husband and wife. Logan kissed his bride with gusto, making Jean giggle in his arms. They had brought two witnesses from the nearby Court Clerk’s office, a couple of sweet-hearted receptionists who gladly agreed to stay late for the service.
Logan laughed as Jean tossed her bouquet of white lilies “ purchased while Logan was trying on his tuxedo “ before they made their way out of the Hall. Jean was walking on air. She’d tamed the Wolverine, made him her loyal companion. Once he seemed more comfortable, she might ease up on the mental control, let him get used to having her around. By then, of course, he would be happy with the arrangement. He wouldn’t be angry at all! She might have to get pregnant before then. Yes, the sooner the better. Logan certainly wouldn’t harm his unborn child!
Though she felt Charles beckoning her back to the mansion for the last several hours, Jean ignored him. Again she used the mansion’s credit account to check into a lavish four-star hotel for the weekend. A wedding wasn’t complete without a honeymoon, after all! Wouldn’t Charles be happy to have two of his beloved X-Men bound together by matrimony?
As night fell over New York City, Jean let her husband undress her and felt not a twinge of guilt for her careful deception.
