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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fer Crying Out Loud, It’s Just a Fancy Name For Dance

Symbols:
*…*= thoughts, usually of the last speaker
"...." = speaking
... = In a phone conversation, a pause for the person on the other side of the line to speak.



In Ororo’s room the next morning after the Cha Cha Chiro:

She woke up with the hangover from hell.

*Ugggghhh, cooooofffeee for Goddess sake.*

Her brain hurt from thinking so much so she immediately stopped and rolled over, placing her pillow over her head and pressed down. The pressure in her brain refused to stop swelling to momentous proportions. The weather, despite the cold and snow, had the same humid qualities associated with late June. Ororo felt the change and decided it was better to try and slowly heal herself than attempt to force her powers to retract.

An hour later the crispness of the air returned and the sun began to rise. Ororo often found another effect of alcohol on her was an inability to sleep and an uncontrollable desire for coffee. One problem she could do nothing about but the second was within her power. She rose, quickly dressing in slacks, a tank top, and large sunglasses to cover the dark circles underneath her blurred blue eyes. When she reached the kitchen she found it blissfully empty but not for long. She tried to cover her surprise at seeing Remy so early but failed miserably as he softly began to chuckle.
“Never really got tah sleepin’,” he shrugged as an end to the explanation. He knew it was a lie. He wanted to get a cup of coffee in him before the meeting in Bobby’s room. He saw the coffee pot percolating and he wiggled his eyebrows appreciatively. “Ro, you a goddess, anybody ever tell you dat?”

Ororo smiled but couldn’t urge her jaw to move enough to respond verbally.
Remy nodded understanding.
Suddenly Ororo saw a funny expression cross Remy’s face but just as quickly it was gone. Any other time she would have asked if that was guilt but she felt unable to really speak in this condition.
“Had a good time? Last night?” Remy asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say to his friend. He knew what the glasses were for and her slacks were rumpled. It was the little things that made up Ororo’s personality. He knew it was such a small thing but she was starting to let the details slip. The split from Logan was affecting her more than she’d ever let on.

She nodded and took out two cups. She didn’t bother with any condiments because they both liked their coffee black if/when Ororo had coffee at all.
Remy didn’t miss this. He wondered how much the girls had let Ororo drink and regretted his hasty sexually charged exit. As Ororo poured the cups full of steaming black liquid Remy spoke a part of some of the things that had been weighing on his mind.

It was the silence. The silence between them was excruciating from his point of view and he spontaneously needed to fill it with something even if it was only half the truth.
“Ya kno‘,” and the cajun’s accent thickened from nerves. “Ah dinnit really agree wit dis relationship between yo’ an’ Logan. At first. We fought even about it since Ah dinnit wan’ him to break yo’ heart. Ah thought…Ah thought a lot o’ tings but mostly Ah dinnit wanna lose my Stormy.
Ah admit it: Ah was jealous. Not cuz a anyting like dat…” Remy’s heart raced as he rambled. He was trying to articulate his nervousness at meddling in the woman he considered his sister’s life. He needed her to unconsciously reassure him. To say something, anything, that could let him know he was on the right track. “It just, ah still cahnt explain it. Guess ah jus’ gon’ have tah trust yo’ understandin’. But chere, ah think dat love is beautiful. Ah see that it good for everyone. There’s been a lot of healin’ goin’ on round here cuz a love. Rugue, Shaewn…An’ mebbe, mebbe ah should jus’ min’ my own business.”

After her first sip of coffee, her eyes peering over the rim as she held the heat she couldn’t really distinguish by feel close to her face, she spoke.
“Remy, I understand,” she said simply to his confession. She could see he wanted to say more but that now was perhaps not the best time. Instead she chose to answer his first question more thoroughly. “You know, I honestly don’t remember most of last night. It felt like a dream, from far away. I remember you leaving and waving and…I was giggling with the girls. I remember chuckling as they began their flirting contest in earnest. I remember feeling incredibly bored. Then I wasn’t, I was happy for a time with the snow and the laughter and I was, I suppose you might call it content. But I knew I was content to forget. Then I remember flying off a moving motorcycle. No, it had stopped again then I flew off when someone tried to make me remember something. I didn’t want to hear anymore. There is only so much well, bullshit, one can hear. I was,” Ororo couldn’t find the right way to say ‘running away’ so she let her words trail away. She pushed her thick hair back with her hand and breathed heavily.
“Then I drank,” she frowned. “A lot of whiskey that I found in the kitchen. Then I woke up in bed. And yet oddly, I feel it was, in part, the best night I’ve had in a long time.”
“That’s good, Ro,” Remy replied. But he didn’t know what that meant for him or her. Even hung over Ororo was a puzzle he was no closer to solving. “That’s fine. A little drunkenness is good for the soul. Haha-excluding alcoholics.”
“No it isn’t, actually,” Ororo coolly responded. “Because I may yet feel it was the best in awhile, it was in fact empty. I know I’m changing Remy. I do not know who to and if I like this woman. I’m, I’m losing something. Like I’m leaking or…sinking. Of course, that could be the whiskey.”
She shrugged, “This is too philosophical for so early-”
Remy shook his head. Ororo loved to talk early and late at night. She was generally the rare 24/7 person.
“-and I have a Danger Room session to cancel. I shall see you later?”

Remy nodded and was glad she didn’t specify ‘later’ as she took her leave. He shook his head. Again he had a lot to think about and it was nothing a walk in the city could cure. Perhaps it was time to talk to Logan but the man might guess something.
Jubilee had warned them all against this, especially Shaewn, because Logan could be more paranoid than alien/government conspiracy theorists.
He walked to Bobby’s room unsure but determined to follow his sister’s example. Perhaps silent meditation, something that didn’t come naturally, would help. But he had his doubts.

A week later:

Logan roamed the halls of Charles Xavier’s School for the Gifted with a chip on his shoulder the size of a mack truck. Scott had said something in jest a few days earlier, laying his hand on the aforementioned shoulder, to only almost lose his hand and earn a growl that only dolphins could understand. Jubilee had try to joke about his grinding teeth and jutted jaw only to find she was the only person in the room unafraid to laugh. People pressed themselves against the wall as they passed by him and Logan occupied the center of the hallway. His anger took up a lot of palpable space like a fat shadow.

*Damn, the woman should have been an international spy or an assassin…she’s got the stealth and avoid skills. Fucking hell.*

For a week Logan had been looking for the right moment to talk to Ororo but with final exams finished she was a ghost on campus. He waited for her at her door nightly, making several casual passes by her attic room but she was nowhere. The rec rooms, the living rooms, dens, and her office: all places they had once made love, held a faint trace of her scent. He assumed she had to be out flying but she couldn’t be in the air always. He tried tracking her in the forest, an old favourite of theirs but the scent, even where they had first made love, was cold and covered in ice.

Meanwhile everyone else couldn’t stop whispering about how much attention the billionaire was fawning on her and her lukewarm response. Apparently this was a major jump compared to her blatant ignoring tactic. Rumors were flying about the state of the relationship and Ororo.
Logan couldn’t help eavesdropping on each one even if he’d wanted to stop himself. Of course where he placed in the situation didn’t escape notice either. Some claim made wilder and wilder claims from the billionaire was going to propose (Logan laughed at this one) to the one where a young girl swore she overheard Ororo talking to Jean about the connection between herself and Shaewn (This sobered him). It was difficult to smell out the truth because everyone believed they were telling the truth.

Speaking of his nephew, Logan couldn’t be more proud. Shaewn had taken his grounding in stride, never breaking his trust and even reaching out to Jackie to make peace on his own accord. His grades were amazing and he worked hard at them. Despite the grounding he was getting to be a popular student and some of his friends had even run a “Free Shaewn” campaign until Logan became too scary to approach. He often still saw a student here or there wearing a button on their bag or a poster on a long forgotten wall.
Shaewn had revealed to him over dinner once that he’d explored every section in the library and that was no lie. He’d even started volunteering at the library for something to do. Mr. Bloor had joked that he’d never seen anyone decorate a library with so much Christmas zeal and tactical planning. Apparently army hard hats, a drill, spot lights, forty recruitments, and several fire hazard inducing banners had been involved.

Logan tried the danger room again. Maybe she’d shown up for her session for once this week. At this point, her parents could return from the dead and it would be a good time. It meant he could tie her to some specific location.
When that failed, Scott shrugging and muttered something about irresponsibility for the week, Logan stomped his foot. Ororo apparently had no intention of showing up for any of her sessions for the week. Maybe she was sick and resting in her room? As he headed up, taking the stairs two at a time he felt a mental nudge.

*Logan, may I speak with you in my office?*

Logan felt sick but his first thought was maybe she was hurt, not badly, but enough for him to get her to stop and talk to him. This conversation had to be had and he was getting desperate. His stomach turned.

*What kind of man am I?*

He knew Chuck had probably heard all that but was polite enough to ignore it. So he asked anyway.

*No, no one is hurt. I just wish to speak with you. Its not an emergency but I can save you time: she’s not there. She’s nowhere you are looking. Please, Logan I wish to perhaps give you some advice, if you‘re willing, in regards to Shaewn.*

*Yeah, sure, no problem. Coming. But Chuck…I don’t really want her hurt.*

*I know. I’m in my office. You still take your coffee black?*

Charles deftly changed the subject until Logan got to his office. Charles noticed Logan refused to sit but paced the room. His impatience was an amoeba growing and infecting the space between them.
Charles pursed his lips but chose to say nothing. Unfortunately the only person who could get away with not talking about the elephant in the room with Logan was Ororo.

*And Chuck’s nice but he’s no Ro.*

“You know where she is.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, of course,” Charles sipped his drink and continued. “But I did not ask you to come here to discuss that. I hope that won’t make you adverse to what I have to say.”
“Give it yer best shot,” Logan allowed himself to say it with only the slightest of growls. He wanted to bellow Ororo’s name and demand she reveal herself but that wasn’t really happening. He’d do it… it would just never work. He shrugged at his thoughts and tried to pay attention.
“I asked you here about Shaewn. I understand he’s being grounded for the Jackie Surd situation. How long will that continue?”
“Til he rolls over,” Logan joked. His finger itched to light a cigar but he knew Charles would be cold first before that happened in his office. He smirked. He could wait for that day.
Charles let out a small smile. Perhaps he was following his thoughts or not… Logan couldn’t always decipher what made the old man tick.
“Naw, he’s got till the end of the month almost.”
“Do you know what month this is, Logan? What day?”
Logan rattled the date off without understanding the point of the question.
Charles smile widened and he explained the concept slowly.
“Occassionally I am called to mentor the hundreds of children attending my school. And I do so with relish and reservation. It is rewarding and yet for all their maturity they are mere high school students with a little extra added in.
I won’t tell you boys will be boys because that is unacceptable. It condones behaviour one knows will possible shape an individual’s future and immediate character. But I will tell you that youngsters will be youngsters. You may not remember it but you were much like them not so long ago. They fight, they hate and love each other in the next breathe. Its dizzying to watch and confusing for the most self assured parent. Shaewn has proven himself to be a responsible boy and a role model student. Honestly if I didn’t believe he has a lot of emotional scars to heal I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend him for several top universities and scholarship who are headhunting the boy right now myself. It would be a worthy investment that I genuinely know can’t fail.
And yet, it is December, the month of Christmas, and tonight is the White Charity Ball. I know you forgot, that’s why your suit is being delivered this afternoon. Hopefully this year you‘ll chose to take advantage of this option. Not that you don‘t always look…nice.”
Logan had to remember to pick his jaw up off the ground. Charles had a way sometimes of cutting to the heart of a matter. And he wasn’t finished yet.
“Shaewn has an enthusiasm for the season that he’s trying to repress because he knows you don’t allow him to participate. Frankly I believe its unfair. Jackie’s punishment ended a long time ago. This is something you’ll learn as you grow as a parent: a consequence should not exceed the deed. Now, I’ll never tell you what to do with your son, I mean nephew. But we all here are his family and will defend him as staunchly as necessary even from you, Logan. Also, if none of this sways your intentions please know he’s never known a real Christmas. You’ve grown used to our elaborate traditions; they are only beginning to fascinate him. And they are meant to. Here at the school…” Charles placed his cold coffee on his desk and folded his fingers underneath his chin, trying to buy time to find the right words. “We must do what we can to distract from the memories that haunt so many children…and adults here.”

By the time Logan left Charles’ office he hadn’t forgotten Ororo. She was this throbbing pain in his chest that had receded to the back of his mind like an old injury. He felt like a tool. He hadn’t heard a peep out of Shaewn in complaint. He wondered at that. Shaewn never complained and most everything pleased him in the extreme.
Of course the punishment was excessive. He made his way to his nephew’s room. Chuckling over Charles fake stumble and deciding he liked the way “son” sounded as he knocked on Shaewn’s door. After a minute he heard something being shoved underneath the bed before Shaewn opened the unlocked door.
“Its called freedom. You’ve suffered enough, ya learned your lesson and more. Go, go have fun,” Logan ordered him.
Shaewn did a happy dance in the doorway. He‘d never been invited to holiday events in most of his foster homes, often getting gifts without consideration for him but generic items that were also appropriate for some geriatric distant relative in a nursing home.
“AHHHH yes!!! Guess I can use this suit Mr. Xaxier sent me huh?” Suddenly he frowned. “I don’t have date.”
“Me neither. Ain’t the be all and end all of everything. Don’t worry, the first hour is boring as hell with all this announcement garbage and then the next half hour is couples dancing. Then the kids swarm the dance floor and ya might as well be back at the Cha Cha Chiro.” Logan paused before finding the right words for his question. “What do ya think I’m doing here? I mean, I ain’t trying to be an asshole. I’m just looking out for you…”
“You know, its weird,” Shaewn said casually. “I get a totally different impression from other people of who you are. Most of the time, you’re in control and know what you’re doing and sometimes I think, underneath it all, you just really want to make everyone happy. Even if that can’t happen, you’ll make it happen. That’s you. Then there’s the asshole guy who thinks he should be doing this or that, even if you think better. There’s a separation and the asshole really bugs me and everybody else. They don’t know that guy.
But the guy I know is, well, he’s pretty much my hero. And I think he should be himself because he lets me be myself, even when I make mistakes. Cuz you forgive those mistakes and make me learn from them. I don’t know, you just make caring about people not seem like such a waste of time. I guess I mean nope, you’re not an asshole. You’re just a regular guy, you know, who’s a parent doing his parental thing.”
“Well gee whiz kid. Thanks,” Logan grinned. The kid hated him for grounding him which was teenagers do when you ground them. And loved him when he got off. Charles was right, he was getting the hang of this.

* But only when I’m not doing my best Scott impression.*

Logan had his first genuine smile in a while as he walked away. There was something he needed to take care of.

Shaewn nodded and went to try on his suit before he realized that his uncle should have no idea what the Cha Cha looked like. He did another happy dance, straining the back of his pants which forced him to tone down his dance.

In Jubilee’s room:

“AHHH, I’m freaking out, man,” she panicked to herself. She was alone, denying herself the company of a gaggle of girls her age, to scare herself with a million ‘what ifs‘. It was important everything went according to plan. Remy had assured her Ororo would be present and Shaewn called her with great news and terrible news.
He told her that not only could he attend the Ball (GREAT!) but that Logan had indeed been at the Cha Cha Chiro (UGH.). Was she overdoing this step? She fretted. Also he couldn’t confirm anything besides Logan had his suit (TERRIBLE!).

Jubilee snorted at this. Every year Charles sent Logan a ‘monkey geddup’ and every year Logan showed up in jeans and a shirt. For some reason, Jean had been a colossal bitch about helping but she’d cooled that down. Rogue had picked a super sexy dress for Ororo and left it on her bed despite no one knowing where she was. Rogue seemed prepossessed in her sexified marathon glory but competent. Bobby was off somewhere chasing his perfect date that he couldn‘t stop bragging about.
Luckily, Jubilee was ready: her hair flat ironed to perfection, her knee length dress was black and hot pink with a corset, and her black leather converses were shined to perfection. But that couldn’t stop this girl worrying.

Everything was at such a critical stage. Jubilee ran her hand through her hair and grimaced. Her hands were so sweaty they were ruining her straightened hair. Sighing she decided maybe she should follow Rogue’s advice a little.

She went downstairs to wait at the bottom of the east foyer steps.
“Relax,” she whispered to herself again and again. When she heard footsteps, she looked up and tried to smile for her date‘s benefit. Then she did for real.
“Logan! You’re, you’re in,” Jubilee stammered, unable to describe the scene before her. Everyone who’d ever attended The White Charity Ball and wondered who the hairy, grumpy, and stumpy looking guy in the corner was doing there was going to lose their shit. “You! You! You‘re here! On time! You do know where you are right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Logan released one of his slowest, most charming smiles and pulled out his cigar from his jacket pocket to chomp down on. “Don’t worry, it’s really me. I know I lost my mind for a little while back there.”
Jubilee gaped, unable to communicate speech patterns.
“But I’m back,” Logan’s grinned turned into something else. The atmosphere was one of both tension and release with the sun streaming cheerfully through the windows as it set and the beams reflecting off Logan’s bared teeth. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Now stop worrying about your date. You look great and if he doesn’t think so, I’ll take care of him.”
Logan sauntered off, leaving Jubilee behind with her fingers on her forehead.
She smiled, tears coming to her eyes from happiness, as she whispered. “He smiled. He really smiled!”

A few minutes later, Jubilee was still jumping up and down in excitement when Bobby came upon her. He grinned, secretly enjoying this moment, before he stopped smiling. He never thought he’d be thinking these thoughts or waiting to say these words. But here he was.
Looking over the past few weeks he realized no one else could have embroiled him in this hare brained scheme except this girl. He wondered how it had gone from childish flirtation to something deeper. When he gathered his courage to say what he’d only recently discovered he needed to say he began walking towards her.

“Omigosh,” Jubilee girlishly giggled as she ran up to him and threw her arms around Bobby’s neck. “You would not believe, believe, buh-lieve what just happened. What I saw. The second coming is upon us. Logan is fucking BACK. Fuck you 2012 cuz this is so much bigger…I mean, I‘m just saying.”
He stiffened for a second, in shock, before hugging her back tightly. With his nose firmly ensconced in her neck he listened to her babble about a suit. Finally he stepped back, took a deep breathe, and took the plunge. His hand, dominantly behind her neck, drew her closer to his lips. She was still talking but automatically her hands slipped and rested at his hips. His other hand drew her hips closer to his and they grinded together for a second, her voice fading and her eyes staring deeply into his, and they kissed. They kissed as if they had seconds to cherish each other.
Outside the windows the sunset bid them good night as it faded over the horizon, a final dip of red fading to navy blue. The lights in the hall had yet to be turned on. Mindlessly they felt their bodies press firmly once before separating in the dim, warm shadows.

Jubilee was the first to look away. Bobby felt a muscle in his jaw tighten and his heart went into high gear. It had been so right he’d forgotten to worry about the after affects. He assumed they’d go to the dance together and then, whatever happened between couples would happen. He swallowed and found something was caught in his throat.

“I, I have a date Bobby,” she said, quietly at first but it rose to a harsh accusation in those few, short words. “Why didn’t you think to ask me first if this is how you’re going to be?”
He opened his mouth and for once, no excuse came to mind.
“Yeah, uh huh, that’s what I thought. What do you think I’m going to do? Just drop him like a cold potato?” Jubilee shook her head. Throwing her next words over her shoulder as she left the foyer to meet her date at his room instead of waiting. “Try me again after the dance if I’m not already dating someone else.”

In Shaewn’s room:

“Fuck, fuck,” he said in between chuckles. It was hard to stop laughing at Russell Peter’s “Outsourced” CD even while he was depressed. Seriously, the problems never stopped he told himself. Despite Logan’s assurances and his own pep talk, he still thought a ball was the sort of thing one showed up to with a date in tow. The problem was everyone had a date. Every room extension he called was ringing into the machine or worse, delivered him rejection. Polite rejection, even regretful rejection from a few girls, but all of them had dates. He sighed and resigned himself to going alone. He was unusually anxious to socialize now that he was free to do so with the barriers of his grounding and his supposed ‘badass’ reputation gone.
Perhaps he’d meet someone there...

Quickly he finished doing his black tie, thankful he’d escaped a bow tie, gave himself a final glance in the mirror and dashed out the door.
At the ball several beautiful women were being escorted in by their dates and hired help was leading the way to seats. At the door, after waiting in a line for a half hour, he discovered he could have skipped the line from the doorman who examined his ticket.
“You go to the school, huh?” the burly man asked. Shaewn had been intimidated by scarier including his uncle.
“Yes sir,” he said. “Where do I go?”
“No student ever shows up early. None,” the doorman continued, his voice expressing doubt and he shifted in his jacket which clearly confined his massive chest. Behind Shaewn he heard the beginnings of grumbling although the gorilla looked in no hurry. Shaewn considered blowing past the guy but didn’t because it would be rude. Besides, who knew if this guy was a mutant and faster than he looked?
“Well just seat me next to someone close to my age,” Shaewn said and he spotted Scott. “Check my ticket, I’m with that guy, Mr. Summers. Can I be seated now?”
Somehow he knew using Logan’s name would have no affect. Scott’s did though as the gorilla immediately turned and chatted with an usher. The usher nodded gravely and motioned for Shaewn to follow him.
Minutes later he was deposited at a central table near the podium. The table decorations were sleek and expensive but not ostentatious. Xavier’s school had spared no expense and the room was filled with many rich looking people. Shaewn watched them all, fascinated, as they swooped by, oblivious to his existence. After ten minutes alone at the table however he became nervous. He wondered, as several people around him stared and whispered, whether he was at the wrong table. After observing the other tables from his perch he realized each table proudly announced the amount of donations each table was collectively responsible for. His table’s placard had too many zeros to count and he saw Worthington’s name on the list.
Worthington was someone he had been briefly introduced to but hadn’t really ever had a chance to sit and talk with. He was nervous to thank him for everything in front of all of his economically unchallenged friends. And Shaewn also realized he too was being watched but for a different reason. There weren’t that many billionaires in the world and they must be wondering how come they’d never met him before. His leg began to shake nervously.

Seconds after this thought process an usher unceremoniously dropped off a green haired nymph. Shaewn tried not to let his jaw drop. A curvy girl draped in furs and a slinky red ball gown that cupped her generous breasts firmly before flouncing behind her. She was carrying a small leather purse with a silver clutch. Her hair was messy and curly as if she couldn’t be bothered to put it up. Or brush it. Or look in a mirror at.
“Ahem,” she said as an introduction, her accent slightly foreign though Shaewn had no idea how to place it. At Xavier’s he’d been introduced to a veritable UN of different races, mutantcy, cultures and customs but he hadn’t come across anything quite like this. Not yet.
“Hi,” he said lamely.
“Hello…so, not to be rude, but well, actually yes this is rude but necessary: who the hell are you?”
He shrugged. “I’m just Shaewn. I think I’m in the wrong spot.”
She narrowed her green eyes. He couldn’t look away, they were a hypnotizing shade of jade and amber- cat eyes. Shrewd and slightly mocking. “So you’re not a silver spoon baby.”
She wasn’t asking him. He shook his head.
She laughed,” Thank god, someone to finally talk to! You wouldn’t believe the dumb things rich people say. You have to stay and laugh with me. By the way, I’m Chora. Yes I know it’s a dumb name-”
“I don’t think its dumb. Its your name. It‘s beautiful.”
“Yeah well, ahem, my parents were going for unique. Anyway, check out the Chicago Borden’s! You know they wear those dumb feather hats all the time. I see they’re wearing it now, trying to fool people into thinking it’s a special occasion thing but they wear it, like in the house like to the bathroom and everything. You are not at the races and you are not British Mrs. Borden-give it up!”
Shaewn laughed. This girl was obviously crazy. But that didn’t have to stop him enjoying himself. Chora entertained him for the next hour by describing the quirks of every person at a table within hearing shot and on the podium. Although he was having a good time with Chora he had yet to see anyone he really knew including his uncle or the focus of his uncle’s problematic love life.

Ten seconds later everyone in the room swallowed their tongue. Women slapped their husbands, some slapping girlfriends, men pointing as a ripple of awareness washed over the large room.

Ororo had made her entrance.

Chora even had no smart remark to make and took a moment to collect to herself.
“Wow, no wonder,” she finally breathed.
“Huh?”
She pointed to where Ororo had stopped in front of a man, obviously awed, and was now talking to.
“That lucky bastard is my brother Brent. Can he make money? Yes. Can he lose women? YOU BETCHA. That lady over there hates him after his embarrassing drunken breakdown but for some mysterious reason has decided to give him a second chance. He’s speaking to her, possible flirting, and she’s not throwing something at him but by God, I hope he’s not screwing it up. I suspect he will though. Pathetic lil bastard.”

Ororo’s skin glowed in the dim light as she smiled at something Brent said. He amused her but it was a concentrated effort. Everything about this situation: the people, the clothing, the stuffy dry heater, it all felt fake to her after her actions earlier today.
She’d spent hours today blending in with the elements on her roof, taking turns with meditation, yoga, and tai chi. This was becoming her habit for the week when she was blowing off all of her responsibilities that she was tied to. Or she flew above the world and people she loved, drifting on errant winds. She barely slept but her eyes were bright and her spirit borrowed some energy from the world that surrounded her outside.
Later she could collapse but right now she was just showing her face at the event she had helped meticulously plan but could not enjoy. Her dress was a skin tight remake of the classic little black dress that Audrey Hepburn made famous in Breakfast at Tiffany’s but in white and her feet clad in dainty coral stiletto sandals. She had on no jewellery except two tiny sworls of diamond studs Charles had given her as Christmas present of past. Ororo went without make-up but her features beautifully contrasted with the low light and Brent stared at her in reserved awe.
Fifteen minutes after the speeches finished, Ororo had sauntered into the room- drawing stares of appreciation with every movement of her hips and flick of her hair. For a moment she was glad she had Brent to focus on or she might have made a less dramatic entrance when she failed to find somewhere to direct herself. She greeted him pleasantly, and if she felt a little robotic he seemed pleased. Also he was calm and in control of his powers which she was grateful for.
Her extreme mini retreat to her home amongst the elements had really opened her mind and she had begun to see that not only was she learning to play the games of the heart but she was being played.
Logan chose to leave her and on his return she couldn’t forget such an act despite the fact that he was unsure of its wisdom on his return. The way he’d left had hurt her deeply. She wore scars on her heart now that she’d allow no one to see as they had with Forge. And her heart had shrivelled slightly as it drew itself near, building defences to prevent such hurt again. And although many had deemed her cold, Ororo had always been generous and passionate. Only now, when no one recognized it, had she become truly cold.
Shaking her head and sipping from the wine glass Brent had eagerly fetched for her she tried to focus on what he was telling her. He was actually discussing some interesting points about the art market in New York, a secret passion of Ororo’s. It was how she had fully recovered from her claustrophobia, by exploring thousands of the hole in the wall galleries in the city.

* Who could fear the dark with such beauty at the end of the tunnel?*

She smiled, genuinely, and she ignored the fact that Brent’s arm twitched and some of his wine spilled on to his cuff. There was hope after the lust, the elation, and the devastation. There could be hope for a better tomorrow, a better her, and better days after that. Even without Logan.

Especially without Logan.




On the mansion’s front porch:

Logan finished his cigar and threw it in a bush. For the first time in months, he didn’t consider whether the bush might go up in flames or the environment was going to get up and attack. For the last couple of months, and weeks, and days he’d been freaking out.
He supposed it was the craziness of being in love and gaining the a little (Big) bundle of joy- it threw him off his stride. His whole life, from what he could remember, he’d known how to act around others. He might not have been right but nothing had ever mattered enough to make him worry about the consequences. Caring in this extreme had sort of made him crazy. He watched the embers fade away on the greenery.

Time for the nutzo him to fade away too, he thought.

He turned his head as he heard Jean approach and her audible gasp. He smelled a nervousness that came from guilt but also joy. And the usual savage lust.
He guessed she felt bad about the way she felt but he understood now, more than ever, that a person couldn’t control themselves. She wanted his body but he knew she needed Scott’s mind.
“Logan, you look so handsome,” she said simply. He smiled and she blushed.
He’d never bothered with the suit before, never had a reason. Now he had competition, all the odds stacked against him, and he grinned.

*This should be fun.*

He walked towards her, casually unaware of exactly what her words meant as she babbled but anxious for Ororo to have the same feeling: the guilt of loneliness and desire, the nervous touch, but also the joy of it.

Jean had never imagined Logan would ever be in a suit. Or look this good outside of his natural clothing set. His broad chest and muscular arms were well defined by the slightly too tight jacket but his shirt fit like a dream. His tie emphasized the length of his throat, strong jaw, his undainty nose; and the intense color of his eyes vibrated against the smoothness of black and white. A vein near his jugular throbbed and Jean felt the moist spot in between her legs throb with it. Sometimes a man could look too good. When he stood directly before Jean she let her hands drift over his shoulders for a few seconds before he grasped them in his own. She gasped, the unexpected touch very welcome, even more welcomed by the fact that she knew he knew he was arousing her. He had to know.
She knew she should feel guilty about sabotaging Jubilee’s plans and about Ororo but …the fact was she barely even knew the woman anymore. Ever since she’d gotten married she felt herself drifting farther and farther away from all the friends she’d once known so well. She had used to feel something when she thought on memories of the past. Now it was like looking at the movie reels of somebody else’s life. Jean didn’t dwell on this instead focusing on the soft massage Logan was giving her fingertips with his own stronger ones. There was sweat from the heat, the attraction, or the danger of someone walking in on them being so close- Jean didn’t know. She couldn’t even tell whose hand the sweat was coming from.

“Come on,” Logan said but Jean barely heard him. She heard the deep, rumbling voice that rocked through her body and turned up her nipples. But the intent of the voice was lost on her. “Let me walk you in.”
Dumbly she nodded.

Moments later they were having the ballroom doors opened for them by a burly doorman who gave Logan a strange look, a moments recognition, that soon faded. When they were in the dark room, the speeches and pontifying complete, they could see a few people out on the dance floor. It was gathering more and more couples slow dancing by the minute. Logan spared a glance for Jean.
“Gonna go look for my nephew. Maybe he’s here. I think I see Scott over there sooooo yeah, bye. Good walkin’ with ya,” he joked before abruptly setting off to find Ororo.
Her scent was in the air but there were hundreds of people in the room. Hundreds of feet and scents had mingled with hers, diluting the strength. He set off on his hunt in the most respectable jungle he’d encountered yet. To make matters worse, the doors opened to let in a new wave of hundreds of kids dressed in their formal best, each doused in perfumes and colognes.

Jean, disappointed, walked away to where she knew her husband would be: the head table. She could see him still discussing fundraising budgets and allocations with a short bald man who looked like the sort of man who spent other people’s money while being paid a lot of money.
As she got closer she could see the shape shifter speaking to Ororo. Ororo looked mildly bored but her mental aura glowed. That was the result of self confidence and contentment. Jean wondered what could have caused the change. She wondered what the source might be and how she could get her hands on some of it.
Scott turned briefly towards and smiled as he put his hand around her waist to draw her closer. She knew he was pushing the smile. She hoped she wasn’t again the cause of his strain but she felt it in their mind link.
In the distance she saw Rogue and Remy, looking ridiculously sexier than most, approach Ororo. The kids came rushing in as they did every year but the music remained slow. Pietro and his girlfriend from home were talking in a corner. Jean raised an eyebrow. To the undiscerning eye, the talk seemed calm but there was an animosity in their auras that told the truth.
Betsy momentarily caught her eye while kissing Warren but it lasted only a second, something only telepaths would notice…Jean looked away first and she felt Betsy’s satisfaction. McKoy and Browning, an old military friend of Logan’s, were talking at a table, clearing space to make hasty napkin diagrams. She tried to stop smiling, the attraction in the air was clear from here.

Distracted she didn’t notice Scott end his conversation with the bald money grubber.
“I hope I didn’t fail to mention you look wonderful, dearest,” he whispered in her ear. Through the connection she could feel his trepidation. She kissed him to ease his nervousness.
“Only for you,” she lied before firmly putting away other thoughts.
He laughed, “Good, I was worried.”
Scott moved them toward the group surrounding Ororo and Brent. As they got closer he whispered, “They make a cute couple, huh? I didn’t know they were still seeing each other. Ororo looks happy, maybe this guy just made a bad first impression.”
Jean nodded. This gave her an idea.
“Nah, really?” Rogue exclaimed as Jean and Scott came close. “You really go on vacation every Christmas? Ain’t that lonely?”
Remy nudged her. “Must be exciting, tho.”
Brent shrugged. “It has been fun, my younger sister comes if she‘s not skiing with friends…Oh hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Jean smiled. “But you have met my husband,” Brent blushed. “I’m Jean.”
Brent smiled politely and nodded, “A pleasure.”
“Brent was just telling us about how he goes to dese amazing places every year to celebrate Christmas. Ah tell you dis: even though you got money you know how to celebrate life. Dese be adventures, oui?” Remy said. He was curious about this guy, he seemed nice, but he felt bad because he knew what he had to do.
Ororo glanced at Remy, also with curiosity, as she wondered what he was trying to say. Did he think Brent valued money over family? She wondered what his meaning was. She listened as Brent answered.
“Hmm, not really. It’s a tradition of my parents, before they passed on, and my sister and I like to continue it. Even if she’s with friends skiing, she’ll go off piste or something new to celebrate the end of a year and welcome the new. This year I may try something I’ve never done: go to a tourist spot on holiday. Usually its volunteering for one of my father’s many charitable set ups: from office work to shelters in different countries or even here in the States. And the work is rarely easy but its more satisfying than multiplying stock dividends,” Brent chuckled and looked at Ororo. “This year I’ll learn how to relax. I think I should.”
Scott nodded, “Who couldn’t use that? Mind whisking me away too?”
Jean cackled and Rogue covered a shocked open mouth with her hand.
After she was finished, Jean coughed and quieted down.
“Sorry Brent,” she explained as Remy gave her a look that questioned her sanity. “The irony was just too much. Its just that Ororo can be really so awful at relaxing. She always works for the school, she has so much dedication, don’t you Ororo? It sounds like she ought to take a leaf out of your book. Forget Scott, you should take Ororo.”
Everyone uncomfortably tried to find a way to continue the conversation.
“Hmm,” Brent said finally. “Hmm, why don’t Ororo and I start by maybe having a dance?”
Ororo raised her brow. She was trying to understand why everyone she knew had gone stark mad in terms of basic socializing except for herself. Before she could answer Brent’s question, Remy smoothly interrupted.
“Ah, ah sorry mon amie but uh, Remy like the first dance wit his padnat. The next one be all yours,” Remy grabbed her wineglass from her hand and put it on the table. With her free hand he took her out to the floor that was packed with slow dancing millionaires, billionaires, teachers, and students.

Rogue shrugged. “Mind getting second choice?”
Brent grinned, “You? Second choice? Never!”
Rogue looked over her shoulder at Jean. The girl was crazy, she decided. Absofuckinglutely nuts.
Brent and Rogue began to dance when Rogue caught Jubilee’s eye. The girl was dancing with a pimpled boy in an odd fitting suit but was mostly trying to indicate something to Rogue via hand signals over her dance partner’s shoulder. When Rogue understood she began to feel bad for Brent, who turned out to be a nervy but friendly geek at worst. And she also decided to never get in Jubilee’s way because the girl meant war.
Slowly she started to tread on Brent’s shoe using her strength incrementally higher and higher. Wincing and apologizing they made it through two songs before Brent politely limped off the dance floor with Rogue behind him repeating, “Sorry! Sorry!” as she helped him to a seat facing away from the dance floor.
“It’s okay,” Brent said as his face reddened. “If I was smarter I would have shaped my feet into something more durable…but then I might have lost control again.”
Rogue helped him put his feet up and sat next to him, prepared to babysit him for the rest of the night.
“Can ah ask a delicate question?”
Brent nodded, “Sure I’m an open but embarrassing book. Open at your own peril.”
“How come you never got any training?”
He sighed. “Well, actually I did. My parents pulled out the best for me. In fact they were disappointed to find my sister wasn’t a mutant. She’s just weird all on her own. I’m just really bad at putting it to use when I, I get nervous or something.”
Rogue patted his shoulder. “Ah see now.”

Remy was only dancing with Ororo for a few seconds before she started to giggle.
“Wha‘?” he asked her, very seriously.
She shook her head, “What exactly are you up to?”
“Nuthin. Can’t a padnat wanna dance wit his soeur?”
“Hmm and this has nothing to do with your scheme does-” Ororo never finished her sentence.

Behind Remy was Logan. He watched her intensely, smiling but not quite smiling with his lips instead with his eyes, and waiting patiently. She smiled and Remy turned to look at what had caused her to stop her interrogation.
He thought he might have a coronary attack.
“Logan, you be in a suit.”
“Yup.”
“Dis must be what your underwear in a crowd dream are like, non?”
“Scat, swamp rat,” Logan laughingly ordered.
Remy bowed gracefully away from his friend but not before kissing her cheek. She barely noticed.

Ororo cocked her head, folding her arms over her chest, and gave him a questioning look. Logan took her hip in one hand, his fingers brushing her firm bum, and pulled her other hand into his. Immediately she rested her chin in the crook between his thick neck and shoulder and he inhaled her scent.
After a few blissful moments Logan spoke.
“We left things kinda cold last time we were this close.”
Ororo didn’t answer but he knew she heard him.
“I left you cold actually.”
She raised her head. “Logan-”
He gulped as he got a full blast of her eyes, a face he missed etching the details of while she slept, and continued, “Don’t damn well ‘Logan’ me. I was wrong by that. Ya didn’t know if I was coming or going in this. And more importantly, I’m sure as hell sorry. Ororo Munroe, I apologize.”
She stared at him as they swayed to the music. She was thinking and he wondered, not for the first time, what exactly those thoughts were.
“I do believe I can forgive you. I didn’t fight very hard did I?”
“Just you trying to do the right thing.” They kept dancing, ignoring looks they were getting from students and teachers in the know. For those who didn’t know, they appeared to be a regular couple, beautiful and in love. Logan chuckled, “Proly the only thing on earth that could stop you is the idea of hurting someone you…who loves you.”
Ororo laughed as well.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
Ororo smiled into his shoulder. “I still practice the Tai Chi you taught me.”
Logan grinned and brought her closer. “Good,” he managed to say.
“Perhaps we could practice again together?” Ororo‘s voice was muffled as he drew her to him.
“I’m there every morning,” he lied. He wasn’t but he would be from now on. “Join me anytime.”
“Also you look very good in a suit.”
He laughed, a full-on, head-thrown-back laugh. Three student couples jumped in surprise and Ororo giggled behind her hand.
“Thanks, you look pretty damn good too.”
She nodded, “Thank you. Where is Shaewn?”
“He found himself a date, I think. Any other questions?”
Slowly Ororo trailed her fingers up his muscled sides to wind them behind his neck. He shivered against her and she laughed.
“Hmm, one more I think,” she said, smiling slowly.
Logan let his forehead touch hers. “Ask me anything.”
“What are you getting me for Christmas?” she teased.
He chuckled, “Isn’t obvious?”
“And now you are teasing me,” Ororo pretended to be upset and spin away but Logan’s grip was too tight.
“Tell me,” she demanded, her sneaky smile promising him a sinful treat if he answered correctly. Every part of her lower body was pressed against the man that only a few short months ago she’d made delicious love to and then broken her entire heart.
“Aw darling, you get whatever your heart wants and that‘s a promise,” he said as the music faded away and returned as a popular club banger. Hundreds of kids now swarmed the dance floor bumping and grinding. Despite even Logan’s best effort, too many students loved to be around Ororo, and he was separated from her. Ororo tried to follow him but she couldn’t, the kids drawing in closer and closer. Finally she managed to push her way out and the first person she saw was an upset looking Jean.
Concentrating on breathing deeply, she stood beside her friend for a few minutes to catch her breathe before going to look for Logan.

Jean spared a glance for Ororo before going back to her own thoughts. She didn’t hear Ororo the first time she spoke.
“Jean are you alright? I said, isn’t this exciting?” Ororo said louder.
Jean looked at her blankly.
“Logan and I, we might, oh I don’t know,” Ororo laughed, her palm pressed to her forehead in shock. “It sounds juvenile but I believe we may be reconciling! Isn’t that exciting?”
Jean shook her head no. “I’m sorry, Ororo but I’ve known the two of you for a long time. And Brent is here and willing to start something real with you. I mean I thought, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up again and what happened before, happens again: he breaks your heart. Maybe its just hormones…I mean, I can’t blame you. Logan looked good tonight, didn’t he?”
Ororo tried to give this serious thought. “He does but that isn’t why-”
“He does and you do and its natural you want to engage those emotions in some physical and concrete way but…you have to consider how full the day to day life of Logan is now. Shaewn is hiding it but I sense a great void inside him that only Logan can fill. Is it best for his…attention to be split?” Jean asked her question so softly and yet Ororo’s surety was crumbling against the assault.

*Of course I haven’t thought about how this might affect Shaewn. How selfish of me!*

“I believe the whole family is helping this young man to rebuild his life,” Ororo put up her hand to stop Jean but the redhead continued anyway.
“When you’re his father figure’s friend, of course you can help, but you know how kids are! As his lover, the change could bring irrevocable damage. Brent is…uncomplicated and he cares for you. You should try to accept him in your life instead of chasing old dreams. But Ororo, I would never, ever, tell you what to do.”
“This is why I must go and collect my thoughts as I have done before,” Ororo paused as she made to walk away from Jean. Finally she turned to look over her shoulder to speak in her own defence. “You know that I never came here tonight with any intentions with Logan? I would never intentionally hurt anyone that way…I shall go make my excuses to Charles.”
Jean smirked as she watched Ororo bend over to speak in Charles ear. Brent was hobbling close behind her.
*Soon Ororo could bend over for Brent and Logan will be mine to do as I pleased with. And that game would be even more fun than this one.*

Quickly Jean walked away to find Logan and get him to dance with her. But she’d only let him dance once…he wasn’t allowed to get too excited.

In the foyer:

“Ororo please wait,” Brent called. The beautiful woman of his dreams only walked faster. He couldn’t help noticing her long legs extended by the fit of her dress and the gorgeous pumps artfully wrapped around her ankles. “Ororo!”
He shouted for her but as he reached the still open door and hanging to the frame he could see she was gone. All that remained was a prick light of a white darting spot in the sky reflecting the moonlight. And a shoe tumbling through the air from the force of her take off. Sighing he closed the door and hobbled to his limo, the night essentially over for him.

Much later on that night:

Logan stalked into the garage prepared to take another long jog. He’d dumped the monkey geddup hours ago when he realized he didn’t need it anymore. The comfort of jogging pants and his own bare chest just couldn’t be beat.
He heard the sobs before he saw the girl. Frowning he approached, wondering who would dare think coming to his sanctuary would be a good idea for comfort.
Slamming the door open he was shocked to find the slim girl there.
“Hmm, break somethin’?” he asked. He figured he ought to start gently with her but still gave his bikes and cars a once over.
Kitty shook her head and wiped her nose with her wrist. He knew it was serious when she couldn’t joke about it.
“Then what’s the matter?” Logan as he perched himself on the wooden bench. He wondered to himself if she knew her dress was ruined by the oil on the bench but he kept silent in order to wait and listen. It took fifteen minutes for her to calm down enough to speak.
“I figured you’d be with Ms. Monroe,” she said finally. “Being all lovey dovey like on the dance floor.”
He shrugged. “But I ain’t. She’s with somebody else.”
“The person I’m in love with is off with somebody else too,” she sighed. “Funny but I thought being smart and funny and…I thought that meant something.”
“Like what? You win the lottery? Doesn’t work that way and you’re smart enough to know it.”
“No not that way. I thought it meant that the people who you want to like you can see all those good qualities. But instead…Pietro has this stupid girlfriend he barely sees and fights with all the time and I really like him. And I know he likes me. But will he break up with her? Noooo. Its like she has one thing in common with him: being Russian. Is he like against Jewish people or something? Like just urrrggghhhh.”
Logan waited until he felt he could talk without laughing.
“Sounds a lot like my situation.”
Kitty’s expression told him she didn’t believe him.
“Ororo and I fight a lot.”
“But you two are in love. You’re adults and have to work stuff out.”
“Not really. She’s got options. Like tonight I watched her leave with that guy, whatshisname, and there ain’t piss shit I can do about it,” he clarified for the child. “She and him? Nuthin’ to do with what she and I had. And maybe I want her to break up with him. But I can never make her do it…well, not if I want to live to see the next morning. Ro‘s got a temper on her.”
Kitty bit her lip. “Pietro wouldn’t be happy if I pressure him to leave his girlfriend either. But crap! That doesn’t make me anymore patient. I don’t wanna wait for him to figure out I‘m a good thing.”
Logan struck up a match and lit his cigar. Kitty faked wrinkling her nose but inside she liked the smell. It reminded her of her own father at Hannukah- the only time Mom let him smoke in the house.
“Girlfriend proly can’t wait for you to piss off either so that makes two.”
Kitty sighed and ruffled her own hair. “Logan this is great and everything but I bet you’re not just sitting around waiting for Ororo to make up her mind. We’re more proactive types than that.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Wait for that bitch to really screw up and then show her up. You know what Aunt Ro always says: kill ‘em with kindness!”
Logan tried not to react but that was a part of his own plan. Kitty laughed so Logan gave up and joined her.
“Yeah that might work.” He gave her his trademark smirk before shooing her off to bed.
Kitty put her hand on her hip, “You don’t really think I’m going to bed because Prince Charming isn’t around, do you?”
“Nope,” Logan sucked a little on his cigar, letting out the smoke through his nostrils, before clamping it to the side of his mouth. “But you should proly change your dress.”
Kitty turned around and screeched. “This was fucking three hundred dollars and you couldn’t have said something? Sooner? ARRRGGGGHHHH the stain has probably built nests in the silk fabric. SiLK!!!! Are you kidding me?”





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