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It was unusual for it to rain that time of year in Cairo. However, on that night it poured, causing the two children running down a back alley to slip and stumble through the puddles; soaking their thin clothing. Everyone else in the city was sleeping, holding their small children safe and sound. However these two had no parents to hold them tight. Both orphaned at a young age, they didn’t have a loved one to care for them. The young boy and girl ran hand in hand as fast as they could through the weather. The white haired, ebony skinned girl was leading her darker skinned friend through the weather; she wasn’t afraid of the thunder and lightning. In a way it refreshed her; a sort of comfort. She led the other with no fear, trying to find shelter on the stormy night.

A man’s voice called out to them and they rushed inside a smaller shack supported by fencing and tents. It was a thief’s house and they knew it, but these two were no strangers to raiders and robbers. They made their own living off of other people, mostly tourists. Still, they were children and thieves weren’t heartless: they gladly took the two inside and gave them blankets to dry off with. The man who had rescued them was in his late twenties and wore a more sophisticated garb than most street runners. Next to him were two teenage girls; their ebony skin flawless and faces unscathed, but their eyes told a different story.

“What can I do for you?” he asked in his native language.

“We are looking to get out of the storm,” whispered the boy, his eyes never leaving the man’s pistol- another tribute to how rich he was for a street rat.

“What’s your name child?” He game a smile to the girl with him.

“Malaka. This is Ororo.” For the first time the man got a good look at the young girl who couldn’t be any older than twelve. Her beauty, however, oust the two eighteen year olds on either side of him. Sure she had a pretty face but her hair and eyes entranced him. The white hair was jagged, as if it had been sloppily cut short at some time then grown long again and those blue eyes pierced his dark ones. There was something else about her that felt similar.

“Wait here a while,” he said, leaving them alone. Another woman in her late forties gave them a bit to eat: stale bread and soup. After eating, Malaka and Ororo were ushered to the man again, but this time there was another man with him.

“My brother,” he said. The brother was not near as handsome nor as friendly. He whispered something intently to his brother who smiled. “Come with me, Ororo.”

“Not without Malaka,” she said stubbornly. She didn’t like the way he said her name- as if he were playing with the syllables.

“My brother will take Malaka to get a new change of clothes.” The boy’s eyes lit up and Ororo’s mouth gaped open. Did he welcome all of his guests this way? Clothes, especially new ones, were hard to come by on the street.

“Come this way,” whispered the man once his brother had taken Malaka away. He placed a hand on her shoulder guiding her into a tented room. The only thing in it was a makeshift bed. Ororo stiffened at the door, now regretting letting Malaka leaver her side. They protected each other and now she was alone with a strange man.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You are going to be a good girl. Just lay down now. You should be honored to have my children.” She paled several shades and started to pull away.

“No…no…”

“Get on the bed.” She shook her head wildly, her white hair cascading down her slender shoulders. The man removed the pistol from his belt and she scampered to the bed. “Now. Take off your clothes.”

“Please no!” she whimpered.

He cocked the gun and reached for her worn shirt. After a bit of a struggle and protesting screams from her, she was completely his. Ororo begged him the entire time to stop, gasping in pain, fighting with all the might her twelve year old body could muster. Finally she got a hand free from underneath his pounding body and grabbed his face. A flash of light and a loud clap of thunder threw him away from her. He screamed in agony and she could smell the singed flesh. She grabbed her clothes and fled into the night; her tears pouring down as hard as the rain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Storm?” asked a concerned voice.

“Storm, wake up!” came another.

Ororo Munroe rolled over on the couch she had been sleeping on. She remembered sitting down to watch the news after the kids had gone to bed and she must have fallen asleep. Standing beside the couch were Kitty and Rogue. Both wore concerned faces with a hint of pity while staring at their teacher.

“What time is it?” she asked, wiping her eyes, finding them wet with tears. Now she knew what her fellow X-Men were worried about.

“About two-thirty in the morning,” answered Rouge.

“Yeah, we were getting some ice cream-”

“At two-thirty?” asked Storm, raising an eyebrow. Kitty kept on talking like she didn’t hear her.

“-when we came by here and heard you moaning about something in your sleep. Then we noticed you were crying and well we didn’t know what to do really. So we decided you were probably having a bad dream. Rogue said to just let you sleep, but I was like, no we have to wake you up. Then-”

“Kitty, she gets the point,” said Rouge, placing a cured hand on Storm’s shoulder. “What she’s trying to ask is are you okay?”

“Yeah, everyone deals with grief differently and you haven’t really-” Kitty shifted uncomfortably in her slippers as she searched in vain for the right word to use. Ororo sighed. They thought she had been dreaming of Jean and Scott or Charles Xavier. She would trade this nightmare for one about them any day.

“I’m fine girls, thanks for asking. Just a bit of a bad dream.” This seemed to satisfy Kitty who bounced off to bed, but Rogue still looked suspicious. Nevertheless both left the weather witch to her thoughts and went to back to bed. Ororo laid her head back down and took several deep breaths. It had been a while since she had that particular dream. Actually it was a memory- one of the ones she had tried to forget. It wasn’t long after that time in her life that she learned English and was found by Charles. He had helped her get over her strong distrust of men, proving that not all men would hurt her.

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the man who had rescued her- whose shoes she was trying to fill. Charles had asked her to take his place and she put her everything into his school and the team. Of course she wasn’t alone, but it was still a lot of weight to bear.

“You wanna talk about it?” a familiar growl came from the door of the entertainment room. Logan stayed at the school more than away these days and had even taken up teaching a few stray classes here and there. Ororo was grateful for his overbearing presence most days.

“It’s nothing, Logan.” She stood up stretching her back from the uncomfortable couch. “I’ll just be going up to my room.”

“You’re not gettin’ off that easy, Storm. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” He sat down on the couch she just was occupying and flipped on the television.

Ororo rolled her eyes and began to leave, not before adding, “Since when did the vicious Wolverine become so concerned?”

“Ever since you needed me to be,” muttered Logan to no one in particular.





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