Disclaimer: Marvel characters do not belong to me.
Ororo's body shifted, sleep shedding from her limbs. Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with fatigue. The first thing she noticed was the hairy chest she was buried in, heartbeat strong and steady. She moved her head back and looked up, meeting the face of a sleeping wolverine. With what little strength she had, she pushed herself from the bed, collapsing to the floor in a tangle of sheets and waking her bed mate. Blinking frantically and struggling to right herself, she tried to make sense of where she was. Panic was the first emotion that kicked her into consciousness.
"Darlin', calm down."Logan said, moving to her.
"No!" She shouted, arm outstretched. "Stay where you are." Ororo slid back to the small bookshelf behind her, reminding herself to breathe. It was not the room that plagued her most recent memory. This was familiar, she knew this setting. It had always been spartan, to say the least.
The blinds were almost always, if not partially, drawn to preserve the darkness that the shades of deeper blue bedding and carpet accentuated. A pack of cigarettes on the far desk, a single shirt on the back of the chair, closet door ajar with his towel hanging on the corner. Logan's wild, unkempt nature would trick some into believing his personal belongings were kept much in the same way. However discipline was always present, and synonymous, with the soldier that life had bred him to be. She remembered visiting his room in the years that he was away, not changing a thing in the belief that he would in fact return. In that time, it had been little more than a shell but now, the unique mix of fresh scented soap, cologne and not quite absent cigar smoke brought back memories of brighter days.
"It's me." He said softly.
Ororo fought back the lump in her throat. "I don't know what that means anymore." She whispered, honestly.
As much as it might have hurt her to say, she would never know how much it crushed him to hear. His hands lifted in surrender as he moved down and sat, knees up, with his back against the bed. "Hank gave ya somethin' ta help ya sleep." Logan watched as she rubbed her eyes. "You'll probably be a lil' groggy fer a bit."
She brought her legs to her chest and hugged them. "How long have I been out?"
"About a day straight. I wouldn't let them put ya in the infirmary an' yer attic's still a little, messed up. I figured ya needed t' wake up somewhere more... comfortable."
Her memories were slowly returning. "How have you managed these past months? Constantly questioning your reality, and the people within?" The encounter with the other Logan shook her. It had been intensely surreal. The body of a man who she'd shared many of her years with, yet the mind and memories of a stranger.
Logan shrugged. "I found my port in the storm, I guess."
As jewels, her sapphire eyes seemed to sparkle in response. "Though I have marveled at your strength and spirit for many years, I am ashamed to say that until this moment, I never realised how truly remarkable you are." Silence complimented the statement as they sat there, facing each other, temporarily removed from the chaos that now defined their every waking moment. "Forgive me."
–You keep sayin' things like that, an' I can guarantee ya, you'll never be rid o' me." He said, taking her hand and kissing it gently.
Her eyes glimmered and she shook her head as she smiled. Whatever words she might've thought to use, were not necessary.
* * *
Cairo, Egypt
Ororo looked back over her shoulder. She'd come away from her captors unscathed and had spent most of the night putting as much distance between herself and the apartment as possible. Her aptitude for stealth left little doubt in her mind that she was lost to them. Now that she had time to think, she wondered what her next move might be. Maintaining anonymity amongst the swell of people, her hair and face were covered by a simple brown bourque. Her only distinguishing feature, her clear blue eyes, which she kept to the ground. Standing against the wall of the opening market place, she tried to organize her thoughts.
The woman's name was Alima. She'd hired the goons to kidnap and hold her, offering them no explanation. But how did she know about her life? She knew about Ororo's connection with the professor. It was safe to assume that Alima also moved with the unsavoury crowd. Ororo was no idiot. The call she'd put out for the mutant had not been broadcast on the daily news. She'd only contacted those that she knew and trusted to get the word out to the right people, quickly, and off any government radar. No, this was personal, but it was the how that Ororo couldn't fathom. Alima was operating alone or doing someone else's dirty work, either scenario was baffling.
She could go back to New York. The professor might be able to find and scan the mind of this, woman and discover what her intentions might be. Having the team behind her would certainly help if there were more serious encounters ahead.
Ororo looked up, and time seemed to slow. The morning sky already held a hot sun, a thin spread of clouds in the distance. Coloured awnings of the market stalls billowed in the light wind, charms jangling to an absent tune. Small children ran through the large square, chasing a wheel an older boy pushed with all his might, passing another group of kids creating all sorts of shapes out of pieces of copper wire. Two men argued at a nearby stall, something about the price of the the cloth that he was selling. A mother and daughter across from her, filled their bags with the morning's purchases. The horn of a scooter sounded impatiently as it moved through the street not far from where she stood, and the chatter of a group of business men passed in front of her. The boards covering the windows of a cafe lifted and it's door opened. Four English tourists perused the market place happily, keen to purchase some authentic ornaments from Cairo.
"We have to be careful not to buy too much, or we're going to have to pay extra for the luggage." Linda, a short, well rounded woman said to her husband.
"I know love, but I promised Lucas and Amy we'd bring some things back. I don't want to disappoint." he countered.
"Well bloody hell," Dave said, "how often are we in Egypt. I say cough up the extra for the luggage, since I doubt you'll be back for some time, if at all." He bumped into a woman as he stepped away from the market stall, knocking her fruits from her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry madam." Dave helped her pick up the three apples and orange that had dropped.
"You know, you never watch where you're going." Charlotte said, rolling her eyes.
Dave responded in kind. "It was an honest mistake. I didn't even see her standing near me until we knocked into each other. I could've sworn she wasn't there before."
"Well of course that would be the case, if you weren't paying attention." Finding the tea set she'd been inspecting to her liking, Charlotte tried to barter with the price before settling on a number neither she, nor the stall owner were happy with. "Dave, could you pay for these please? I'm running low on money."
He chuckled. "The story of your life, and sadly becoming mine too." His eyes widened as he felt nothing in his jacket pocket. He went through the remaining pockets incase he'd misplaced it. No luck. –My wallet, it's gone."
* * *
"What about inducing his unconscious state? Perhaps then we might be able to control these 'shifts'." Henry suggested to the professor. The war room had become the site for a massive brainstorming session amongst the team. For the time being, no global threats or disasters marred the team's schedule. All time could be devoted to solving the conundrum surrounding Logan... both of him.
"I don't believe that that would do much more than put him to sleep." The professor replied. "The shifts all seem to happen at random times. There's an incredible infrequency about the entire thing."
"Well, can you remember what happened during each shift?" Jean asked Logan.
Logan nodded. "Let's see: first I got my ass fried with a lightning bolt then Hank was doin' a check up in the infirmary. After that it was when I met my clone and again on the way back from alternate Cairo after meeting their informant."
"I wish I knew what was causing this." The professor tsked, more to himself than anyone in particular.
Remy collected his cards and began shuffling them again. "Or who. I mean, if you ask Remy, dey sound like perfec' moments to cut at in a story. Like de soap opera." They all turned. Feeling all eyes on him, he looked up from the cards. "Wha'? I don' watch dem... well, sometimes if I come in an' dey on. I don' want t' interfere wit' anyone's viewin' pleasure so I jus' leave it on. You know... but I don' watch 'em."
Scott nodded. "You know, Remy has a point. They it almost seems like it's being actively orchestrated."
The professor pondered. "To do that, someone would need to be watching closely." Every person in the room digested the statement and shifted uneasily, almost in unison.
"That's comfortin'." Logan sighed.
"Quite." The professor added.
"If someone were behind it, do you think they'd just stop?" Asked Jean. –I mean it has been over a week."
Charles looked to Logan. "Considering the amount of time and care taken to do all of this, I'm afraid I don't believe so. What about this contact that you met while in the other reality. If she helped you on that side, perhaps she might do so here. That's assuming there's any similarity between them. You said she's a doctor."
"Yeah, her name's Alima if I'm not mistaken."
* * *
Yusuf closed his apartment door behind him, flipping through the paper as he whistled a half remembered tune. He took his shoes off as he moved to the lamp on the side table, in favour of the toe-to-heel method. There was never any food in the refrigerator, so he rarely bothered to even set foot inside the kitchen. It showed: four plates that still had three week old, encrusted bits of take-away growing enough cultures for a years worth of lab experiments, dust bunnies and dead bugs in various corners for the rest. The place was small, terribly kept, and reeked of sex and smoke. It was clear that whoever lived here, did nothing of the sort. It would surprise no one that he rarely visited his own home.
He flopped into his single seater and propped his feet up on the aged coffee table. Suddenly aware, he lowered his paper and gulped. The murky reflection of someone behind him in the doorway, came from 1970 throwback of a television. "Take whatever you want." He said in Arabic.
"I will." Also in Arabic, the soft female tone of the reply relaxed him.
Yusuf turned to Ororo. She lowered her borque and flipped back her head covering. "For a man who once earned his living by picking locks, yours are so easy to pick, it's laughable." His expression was stunned. "You don't look happy to see me, Yusuf."She continued in English.
"What?" He laughed nervously. "Hey, come on, I was worried about you. Of course I'm happy to see you."
Ororo moved from the doorway. "Ah yes. My last memory of our time together, was us having some drinks in the cafe."
"Yes, and then some thugs came in to rob everybody. They took you, and I tried, but I barely escaped with my life."
"Thanks to some quick thinking on your part?" She asked, rounding in front of him and kicking his feet off the table. –I was wondering what you would say when you saw me, Yusuf. We've known each other since our days on the street, and even then I could smell your lies.
"Ororo, I'm not lying." He snorted nonchalantly.
She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think the three people I questioned from the cafe, would agree with you." Her hand landed square in his chest, sending a jolt of electricity through his body.
"Jesus Christ woman!" He shouted, gasping for air as he tried to regain control of his body. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" The tremors slowly subsided as Ororo moved back, taking her time to observe him.
"What you should ask, is what is right. And as time goes on, the answer becomes: increasingly little." A flicker of Storm remained. That morning in the market, the X-woman and Ororo had parted ways. Though Yusuf would never realize, she paused then to ask herself, for the last time, if she was ready to veer away from the life and character, that defined her. Ororo turned her back to him, looking out the window to the emergency stairwell. She took a deep breath. "We have known each other for a long time, so you understand what it means for me to give my word. If you lie to me now, I will maim you without hesitation. You have my word."
She turned back, eyes white.
Yusuf took a moment to gauge her words. "What do you want to know?"
"The people who took me, who are they?"
"I don't know exactly. Abas Bakahasab, he runs an underground brothel in Kerdasa, came to me, asking for information about you and why you had returned. I knew nothing about it, until you got into contact with me. He offered six thousand pounds, one thousand of your dollars, if I could give him a time and place that you would be."
"And the men who took me?"
"I have seen their faces but I do not know them. They are muscle for hire."
"What do you know of the woman with them?"
Yusuf's brow raised. "I don't." At Ororo's expression, he repeated himself, uneasy. "I swear to you, I don't."
"Your feelers run deep in this underworld, my friend. I find it hard to believe that you know nothing of her. Her name is Alima." He shook his head. "No hint or word? Think hard Yusuf." The corners of her eyes sparked and crackled.
"Don't." He brought his arms up to shield himself, the paper he'd walked in with, falling to the floor.
Ororo looked down at scattered sections. "Doctor awarded for work at Al-buhayrah Hospital." She read aloud, taking the paper. "l-buhayrah Hospital has been the subject of much governmental debate over the past years. Following review and rumours of its closure, it seems that Cairo's only mental facility is safe for the future and it has Doctor Alima Ramzi to thank for that."
Ororo had forgotten about Yusuf, still cowering in his seat. The article itself was not what held her attention, but the accompanying photo. She brought her hand over the lower part of the woman's face concentrating on her eyes. She knew those eyes, they had bored themselves, painfully, into her mind days earlier. "Well, I guess that answers my question."
* * *
"Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three..." Logan counted push-up after push-up, stopping suddenly before getting to his feet. He dusted his hands off as he looked up, breathing hard. The decision had been made to move Logan to the danger room, the professor had felt it more conducive to his mental stability. The rest of the team had barely put an argument to it considering the comforting notion that over a dozen, potentially lethal weapons were targeted at him twenty-four hours a day. He couldn't see behind the tinted glass from the observation room above but on more than one occasion a day, he knew someone was there, watching him. The sensors for the door sounded.
"Logan," Ororo's voice came through the speakers, "may I enter?"
"Sure." He smoothed down his hair, only then realizing that he'd given it a buzz cut about a week earlier. He took a deep breath as she walked in, a strange feeling that he couldn't place, surfacing. "Hi 'Ro. It's good to see ya again." Logan greeted, smiling. "I'd offer ya somethin' t' drink but... well, I just moved in here and I haven't quite got my fridge stocked up yet." She chuckled, looking to the solitary bed and side table he'd been given. He did the same and for a split second, she felt her heart ache at the sound of his throaty laugh, a sound she hadn't heard in a long time from her own Logan. "My decoratin' skills aren't much." Within a few moments, noticing that her smile was only half, his expression became more serious. "How're ya doin', darlin'?"
"I should be asking you the same question, darlin'." She joked, trying to mimic his voice.
Logan grinned at the jab while looking around him. "My cell could be worse... an' I could be dead. So all things considered, I'm just peachy." Ororo was not sure what had changed about the man in front of her, but he was, brighter somehow. "Chuck's been playin' shrink, tryna get me t' sort through things. I'm pretty sure it ain't workin' but it's nice ta have a visitor."
"Logan, I'm sorry that I haven't..."
He shook his head. "Don' worry about it darlin', I'm glad that you're here at all" Their eyes locked and both of them fought to break contact.
Finally she spoke: "I'm sorry that we have to keep you here. But with things being as they are, I don't think we have another option."
He shrugged. "I don't actually mind. It's been years since I've had this kinda peace. Stayin' in one reality for more than a few days, knowin' that I'm gonna go t' sleep and wake up in the same place. Whatever it is that's happening here, I ain't complainin' just yet. 'sides, the professor's put in a couple of programs t' make me more comfortable." Logan announced. "They really tie the room together. Computer, run Oz 4." He called out, winking at Ororo.
As paint cascading thick down each wall, the program initialized. Slivers of distant scenery dripped into existence on the walls, as objects formed around them, first as a mirage, then seeming to become something more tangible. The once cold, grey metal transformed before them, coated by a fully immersive, digital rendition of what might come close to paradise. The ceiling was now a brilliant blue, merging with the sea at a deceptively far off horizon. Bright green grass, or at least the hologram of it, rushed under their feet, ending at the edge of the room and dropping to what seemed to be a cliff. Logan's bed now appeared as a small, one man tent. The sound of breaking water filled Ororo's ears as the vents in the room begun to simulate a soft breeze, and the lights changed their filter to mimic the sun's golden light.
"Where are we?" She asked, closing her eyes in an attempt to convince herself, just for a moment, that they had truly traveled to another place.
"Australia." He answered, watching the curve of her neck as she leaned her head back slightly. "I spent a few years here. It's the kinda country that you can truly get lost in if ya want to, among one of its many traits. So beautiful." He added, transfixed by her delicate profile.
"It most certainly is." She said softly, finally opening her eyes. Movement near the cliff's edge caught her attenti on. "What is that?"
Logan tore himself away from her. "Oh, that's Taz." He smiled. "First night I came here, I felt somethin' nibbling on my leg. I was so disoriented, I reverse rolled outta the tent, growled inta the night an' dared whoever was fuckin' with me t' take me on. That lil' thing comes crawlin' outta there an' I can't help but feel like a dick fer being scared t' death by an oversized rat." They laughed, both finding the thought of Wolverine being forced out of his tent swinging by such a beast, to be hilarious. "After telling 'Ro that, the jokes didn't stop. She even got me a bright red Taz t-shirt fer Christmas."
Ororo controlled her laughter long enough to ask: "Taz?"
"Y' know, Taz the Tazmanian devil from Hannah-Barbera?"
"Oh, you mean Warner Brothers." She remembered.
"What're ya talkin' about? Warner went bust years ago." Logan countered. "Come on 'Ro, ya can't tell me ya don't remember the shirt. I told ya I hated it but I wore it like a priest wears his collar."
She shook her head, confused. "That's the other Ororo, your Ororo."
"What're ya talkin' about, darlin'?" He asked, seeming equally as confused. He stepped closer to her and looked pained as she moved away from him. "You got it all wrong. I didn't see her that way an' I sure as hell didn't want her that way. Not like I want you." Again he tried to get closer to her, and again she stepped back. "It's just that ya had to be so damn stubborn, like you always are. I went up there an' I waited fer you. I was gonna apologize, patch things up." He shook his head, disapproving of the actions he now thought back on.
"Logan, stop and stay where you are." The room for all its size, instantly began to feel smaller and she found herself running out of space behind her. She didn't want to have to use her abilities on him but she could not deny her growing sense of unease.
"Then she came out, told me you'd be back in a few hours." He'd completely ignored her words. "I don't know why but I couldn't control myself around her. God I tried 'Ro, I fucking tried. It's like somethin' else took over. She kept telling me she wanted harder, rougher an' finally I just lost it. When it was done, she just kept laughin'." His words were lined with disgust. "She was gonna tell ya an' I knew you'd never forgive me. I didn't want ya to." The sadness in his voice proved a painfully strong contrast to the sounds of bright day in the danger room.
"Logan," Ororo tried.
"So I ran!" he shouted out. "Like a fucking punk, I ran! An' my life, my freedom an' my reality, were taken from me. My mind has been carved up like a goddamn Christmas turkey an' there ain't a fuckin' thing I can do about it."She reached out to him but he grabbed her wrist and held it too tight as he hurtled them both back against the wall. "Whoever Logan was, stopped existing that day. I tried t' hold on but I knew that the only thing I had worth fighting for, was gone! The only person I knew would fight for me, had no reason to!"
"Logan, let go of me!"
His hand moved to grab her just at the curve where her neck met her shoulders, pinning her. He unsheathed his claws as he snarled into the air but she would never know it was to cause himself pain, not her. They tore into the metal wall at Ororo's side. "I don't want to. The last time anything made sense, was with you. It only ever makes sense, with you." Intense and unapologetic, his eyes studied every defined peak and smooth curve of her face. They moved down to his hand, still embedded in the wall by his claws and watched as Ororo placed her own hands on his. She felt his body tense against hers, but it was not out of rage. His claws retracted and he brought his arm around her waist. "'Ro." he said softly.
Again their eyes locked and he finally moved to kiss her. Ororo would later wonder if he'd moved a second earlier or later, whether her actions would've been the same. She turned her head to the side and felt his lips against her neck, so very familiar and yet completely foreign. Logan moaned into crevasse created by her delicate collar bone, the sensation causing her to moan in turn. She felt his body press up harder against hers as he lifted her. –Stop,†she panted. "Logan, stop." He put her down, quite clearly reluctant. "I..." She searched for the words as she took in his form, telling her body what her mind already knew.
Without another word, she left, sealing the doors with the security code and finding herself stuck there once she had.
Despite her former life as a goddess, she knew what she was. What she was, was only human and controlling her emotions had long been a battle she'd struggled to win. Everything about the encounter was wrong. She'd convinced herself near the end of the conversation that she needed to stay with him to help him overcome the struggle that had only aided his declining mental state. In part, perhaps it had worked. He had said a lot more than she imagined, he had in the past years, to anyone. The setting was already creating a change in his behaviour, perhaps this was part of what he needed. But it had gone too far. It wasn't fair to him, since she was not his love and he was not hers. She had just helped to fuel his belief that she was and she couldn't let that happen again.
At least he could plead insanity, what was her excuse for nearly letting the situation get out of hand. She knew better. She knew the difference. Didn't she?
Logan stared at the door as it sealed in front of him, listening hard and catching the sound of Ororo's elevated heartbeat. He turned suddenly, looking up at the observation room.
Someone had been watching.
To be continued...
