Soft cotton. Ororo’s eyes slowly fluttered opened and her mind arose from the dark of unconsciousness. Her fingers mildly explored the feel of the blanket lightly draped over her. At first, she panicked, thinking that the men who attacked her decided to pick her up from wherever they dropped her and stuff her in that blasted car. Her mind barely remembered thoughts of being beaten in the stuffy vehicle.
She had awoken while they were carrying her, but she decided to act as if she were still knocked out. It worked.
For awhile.
Through the haze of drowsiness, Ororo managed to observe a few things…
She had opened her eyes to get a small peek of her surroundings, and was undetected for a short amount of time. Carefully studying the men who held her captive, she only recognized a few of them. The one with the gun, that had the hat dipped over his face mysteriously. Then his two buddies who had ganged up on her. The other men, she was sure, were the ones that had continued beating her in the alley. Those men were sitting around her, talking nonsense about mutants. It gave her a sick sort of feeling.
Ororo had studied the one with the mysterious hat who was sitting in the front seat, next to the driver. She took the chance as he pulled off his hat and stared at it as if the brown material contained the very meaning of life itself. Eyes, as pale as blue ice, were unforgiving and cold. Gray hairs peeked around his full head of hair which was black as night and his brows were furrowed in deep thought. He wasn’t a thin man, but rather square shaped. Worry lines that ran over his forehead told tales of a man that had experience spanning over the years. He didn’t appear as a person that had a wife and kids, but more of a lonesome man that trusted nobody.
The men surrounding Ororo told a different story. They looked like your everyday thugs that worked for nothing but money and drinks. Every single one had muscles that could put most wrestlers to shame. Laying by their sides, heavy guns were intimidating, but not exactly threatening to the weather witch. So deep in conversation were the men that not one noticed Ororo observing them silently. Idiots…
Only when Ororo winced as one of the men’s boots kicked her side sharply did she become noticed. A blonde man yelled something that she couldn’t make out and her mind was trapped in darkness. She had been knocked out yet again.
Now, as she slowly awoke, that was all Ororo could remember…that and a gruff voice, carrying her somewhere, cold water wiping her face soothingly. Was she taken to her captor’s base? What would they do with her? An experiment on mutants? Would she soon join Scott, Jean and the Professor? Questions plagued the back of her mind as her vision became a tad bit clearer.
A small sigh escaped Ororo’s lips as she realized she was in the infirmary. She was home.
Her index finger lazily swirled around in the thin material that covered her body. Wiggling her toes, Ororo confirmed her body was in proper working order. She was safe. Wincing a bit, Ororo rubbed her injured arm, which she now noticed was wrapped in bandages, over her abdomen where her bruises reigned.
Damn, so it wasn’t all a dream.
She rested her arm back on her side and closed her brown eyes softly. Suddenly alarmed that she may have been given “The Cure” in her unconscious state, Ororo reached out to her powers.
Yes…
She could feel the currents of the wind and all the other things connected to the weather. Silently summoning a breeze outside, Ororo relaxed again. She still wielded the elements.
The swish of the infirmary door startled Ororo out of her near sleep state. Dark brown eyes snapping open, she managed to catch the faint sight of a leather brown jacket and jeans disappear out of the room. Only one person fit that description.
Logan.
A few seconds later, the infirmary door opened again. A big, burly man, who went by the name of Henry “Hank” McCoy, with blue fur covering every part of his body, walked in. Clipboard in hand, Beast greeted Ororo with glee.
“My, my, Ororo, I have seen you in better shape,” humor was always the medicine, in most cases. Right now, that was just what the white-haired woman needed.
Ororo managed a small smile and a raspy, “H’lo…”
Shocked by her own voice, Ororo attempted to clear her throat, but Hank put up his hand, silencing her.
“Your voice will come back to you as you awaken. Right now, you need to rest, my dear,” Hank said affectionately.
Ororo complied easily, but not before asking, “What about Logan?” This time, her voice sounded a bit more like her old self.
“Ah, yes. Our resident Wolverine has taken quite good care of things before I arrived. Had you all cleaned up and ready for bandaging the moment I walked in,” Even Hank sounded unsure of himself as he spoke of Logan.
“Logan?” Ororo asked with equal curiosity. Oh…so that was the gruff voice Ororo came to remember. Those were the strong arms and the soothing touch of cloth that wiped her face clean.
Hank only nodded while he began inspecting her bandages. Ororo rested her head back down and lay there patiently for Hank to finish. She felt a harsh tightening in her arm as he secured the bandages more securely.
“The cuts on your face will eventually heal and are not serious, but what concerns me most is your arm,” Hank began with his diagnosis, “I want you to keep it bandaged regularly, maybe have Marie or young Jubilee to help you with that. The large bruises you have are the result of two fractured ribs, which will heal over time, so don’t worry. Just stay away from any strenuous work,” Ororo opened her mouth to say something but Hank merely silenced her, “and that means no Danger Room sessions, Ororo. No missions and nothing that may potentially harm you.”
Ororo managed to ask, “Can I still use my powers?”
Henry thought for a moment, “Yes. But lightly. The concussion you have make using your powers a lot more difficult. You would tire quickly in a regular Danger Room training session with the children.”
Ororo nodded solemnly, heart sinking. Guess she would just have to wait until she heals up.
She wasn‘t sure she could take any more of this and would give anything to get out of the infirmary, back in her room where there was much more space, “Is that all? Can I leave?”
Hank laughed, “Yes, that’s it,” he sighed before answering her second question, “I guess you may…I’ll get Logan to accompany you to your room…I informed him of your injuries so he--”
Lo and behold, Logan walked in only seconds after the statement was made, “I’m here,” his eyes traveled to Ororo, who was having a hard time getting up. There was a definite improvement since he saw her last.
“Can ya walk?”
“Yes,” she answered Logan quietly.
Pushing herself up with her good arm, Ororo managed to sit up weakly. She was still in her clothes, thank God, so she slid the soft infirmary blanket off and swung her legs over the bed. The moment her feet touched the floor, she felt her legs give out underneath her and quickly grasped the edge of the bed, biting back any sort of wince that would cause the two men to come to her aid. Her arm was on fire from intensely gripping the bed’s edge.
Hank and Logan both made a start towards the struggling woman, but were held back when she snapped at them, “I got it!”
Finally feeling her legs stabilize somewhat, Ororo straightened up slowly. The two men regarded her with concern at seeing her troubled steps forward. Hearing the earlier conversation between Hank and Ororo, Logan even briefly considered carrying her back to her room.
On the other hand, Hank only expected him to simply see Ororo’s way, “Alright, it looks like my work is done here. Logan, make sure she gets some rest, you could ask one of the girls to help Ororo with changing her clothes. As I told you both earlier, no work whatsoever and also no classes for the next two weeks,” but Ororo’s eyes widened in shock.
“Two weeks! Hank, that’s way too long to be--”
“Two weeks, Ororo. No more, no less,” Hank said firmly, silencing a very stubborn weather witch.
Logan suppressed a smirk, not exactly wanting to anger Ororo any further. He would get his opportunity to do that anyways when he helped her get to her room.
“Fine…” Ororo sighed and walked slowly over to Logan, “Let’s go,” she turned to Hank, “Thanks, Henry.”
“It was my pleasure, Ororo. Rest up,” He replied cheerily. Next, he gathered his things and made his way out the door.
Before he was out of hearing range, Beast called after them, “You have my number if anything else goes wrong!”
“Got it!” Logan replied.
A few seconds ticked by before Ororo made the first move to escape out of the awkward silence that fell between the two.
She clasped her hands together, “So…Umm…thank you…about what Hank told me…” her eyes searched his for any reaction, but got nothing expect a grunt and a head turn.
“We should get ya up to yer room an’ get some rest…” He started gruffly.
Typical Logan… Ororo thought with a smile then nodded as they both walked silently out of the infirmary.
Little did Ororo know that Logan was worried shitless about her. His lack of conversing was a result of sheer worry…or over protectiveness. Unbeknownst to Ororo, Logan had gave himself the honor of being her “guardian angel”. If she was lost, the school was lost, which meant each and every mutant child would be forced either back to their old homes, or cast to live on the streets in fear for the rest of their lives. That was something Logan could not bear to see. As long as he drew breath, Ororo Munroe would be safe.
The tricky part was to guard her unseen.
As they were walking down the silver halls of the lower levels, Ororo slowed down, exhausted, yet surprised that she tired out so quickly. Logan quickly noticed and stopped as well.
“Y’alright?”
“I’m fine…just give me a moment,” Ororo said wearily. She would never in a million years admit that her arm was killing her or that her concussion was making her dizzy; she would not be babied by the Wolverine. Not now, not ever.
She leaned on the nearest wall for support and rubbed her arm, disgusted that she was being portrayed as weak in front of Logan.
The man leaned on the wall next to her, waiting patiently for her to catch her breath. It was s bit after midnight and they all needed sleep, Ororo especially after what she went through. That reminded him…
He began, “Storm…”
She shot him a look, “I have a name, you know,” Ororo paused as she watched him try to remember her real name. How long ago was it when the Professor had introduced the white-haired weather goddess to the feral brawler? What had he called her as she walked through the doors silently, a small smile on her delicate face…
Ah, Logan, I’d like you to meet Ororo Munroe, also called Storm…
Ororo! That was it…
Logan began again, this time, by her rightful name, “Ororo,” satisfied with her nod of approval, he continued, “what happened?”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. Too bad she only hand a spoonful of answers to give…
“I honestly don’t know,” Ororo motioned for them to begin walking.
“What do ya remember?”
Closing her eyes, Ororo tried to delve deep into her memory of that evening.
“I was at the store…and I got this feeling that I was being followed…When I got to my car I was attacked by three men, one of them had a gun. I bet he was the leader. Last thing I remember was being thrown on something hard…that’s how I blacked out…” Ororo shivered as she went on, “When I woke up, I was in an alley, that’s when the other men started beating me up--”
Logan cut her off, enraged, “--what the hell did they do to ya?”
“What thugs usually do: Beat the shit out of a person until they beg for mercy…”
Logan looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Who knew that the chick could cuss…
“Go on…”
“Alright. I was knocked out again and woke up in their car…That’s when I managed to get a good look at the guys…but one of them noticed me and I was--”
Logan interrupted, “--Lemme guess. You were knocked out again?”
She chuckled, “Mmhm…I don’t remember much after that…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll give Hank a call and tell ‘im about it later, kay?”
Ororo nodded as they reached the elevator, “Right.”
They both entered the elevator, much to Ororo’s distain. She would have taken the stairs, but in her sore and weary state, that wasn’t an option.
Keep your mind off the walls, keep your mind off the walls, keep your mind off the walls… Ororo chanted over and over again in her mind. She tapped her foot impatiently, wishing the elevator would go a tad bit faster. Logan got that impression that tight spaces and Ororo just didn’t mix very well.
“You okay?” asked Logan after seeing Ororo grip the rail.
“Just wish this thing would go faster…” Ororo said grudgingly. For what seemed like an eternity to Ororo in the enclosed space, the doors of the elevator finally opened to the top floor of the mansion, making it much easier for Ororo to walk to her room.
Once they both stepped out, Logan asked, “You got it from here?”
She nodded, walking down the short hall of the teacher’s rooms and into her own.
Logan added as he stood at the beginning at the flight of stairs, “I’ll go get Marie t’help ya with yer clothes.”
Ororo nodded, “Thanks, Logan…” she added quietly, watching Logan walk down the staircase.
Closing her door, Ororo rested her head against the frame and closed her eyes, “Thank you…”
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