Logan woke up. His cheek pressed against the warm, soft pillow that he'd slept on. The sun filtered through the small window, its rays gently teasing his skin. He'd been in a deep sleep, he registered that much. But the fact that the entire first class, aside from him, had already left, was worrying. Why hadn't he woken to the sounds of them passing; chattering and laughing? Why hadn't he felt the plane's decent? Even while asleep, these were senses his body reacted to. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. First class had been Ororo's idea, and he had to admit that it was a good one. She wanted him to be spoilt, after having spent so long, caged like an animal. That had been her reasoning for a lot of things lately: the stop over in Paris which turned out to be a week-long stay; breakfast in bed; her in bed; breakfast on her in bed. He began to think back to...
"Excuse me, sir." The flight attendant behind him said. "I think it might be a good idea for you to exit the plane; unless you're planning on accompanying us to Cairo?" She smiled.
"I have a question." Ororo said, setting down her wine glass and moving to a comfortable position on the bistro's couch. Cuban music played over the speakers. Low lighting, amazing food, and happy people; enough said.
"Fire away, darlin'." He flipped open his Zippo; lit his cigar.
She rested her cheek on her palm and smiled. "Do you actually like cigars?"
He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" Her smile was met by his own.
"Well, what is the attraction?"
Logan paused a moment. "I've had cigars ever since I can remember. The taste ain't half bad. It's no burger and fries, but it's a great follow-up." Just as he finished, a waiter set their plates on the low table in front of them, and offered to replenish their beverages. They'd been eating out often; hotels called for that. "'Sides, this way I've always got somethin' to keep my mouth busy."
"I can think of other ways to do just that."
"Careful 'Ro, or I might think you're hittin' on me."
"Why? Conversation is a great way to keep your mouth busy." She grinned. Ambiguous? Not from where he was sitting.
"I have a question." He said.
"Fire away, darlin'." Hearing her mimic him was amusing; he sidelined a smile.
"Why do you play at bein' cold as ice, an' let the world believe it?"
"Because," and she seemed not at all taken aback, "I give the world what they want. No one wants to see what's really there; experience tells me that it frightens them, pushing them away instead of bringing them closer."
"What experience?"
"You. I let my guard down with you more than once, when I thought we were getting closer. Every time I did, you'd move away and we'd settle into an odd pattern of hardly speaking to or seeing, each other." She paid close attention to her bracelet as he looked at her. There had been a few minutes of silence after that. "I have a question for you." He nodded this time. "Why do you hold back now, when I know that you want me? It doesn't quite seem in your character."
The institute was sight he'd missed. He wondered at how he'd react to all the old faces. Logan was suddenly immersed with feelings of anger. Why hadn't the rest of the X-men come looking for him? He remembered Ororo's explanation but he still felt as though they should've at least bothered. He knew it was unreasonable; he'd often left for the wild yonder and 'forgotten' to let the others know. Was resentment an option? No, of course not, but it was an emotion.
"Right here's fine." He told the cab driver, the wheels crunching atop the gravel road as the car came to a stop. He didn't have much, a large rucksack with a few items of clothing. "How much do I owe ya?" He settled the price, and stepped out onto familiar ground. His eyes stayed glued to the mansion, day almost completing its transition to night, as the cab drove off.
"Don't, laugh," she said seriously, looking at him behind her from the corner of her eye but only catching glimpses of his hair. He lay partly on top of her; one arm following the curve of her own as it lay on the pillow, the other reaching around and finding a resting place for his hand, between her thighs. He laughed as he kissed her shoulder. "You have no right to."
"I'm sorry sweetheart, but you sound like a Hallmark card." He relished the feel of her skin against his. The last few days had been spent with a new person, Logan felt. It was as though she had stopped giving the world what it wanted of her, and stopped showing him what he thought he knew. Every caramel pore oozed sex; every look, every gesture screamed for contact. He knew she was sensual, but this was truly different.
"Why? Because I speak of love?" She said playfully.
They managed to catch the end of a movie; the title had something to do with a notebook, but he couldn't be bothered to pay attention. He shrugged. "Well, ya. Anythin' anybody says about it, makes it sound like somethin' from a romance novel."
With a naughty grin: "Familiar with them then? You must be to know what one sounds like." He jokingly bit at the curve of her derriere. "Actions speak louder than words, and yet it's words we put on display, more often than actions. Love is protecting someone you care about; love is making someone feel special when they don't." She sensed his thoughts drift. "Love is hearing you growl while you're inside me, love is appreciating the bruises I get after a night with you," Ororo moved, and straddled him, "it lets me know that I had of all you; the sensitive and the strong. Love is..." She left it open.
He shook his head and smiled, knowing that she expected an answer. "... finally knowin' what sex with a goddess feels like."
"Smooth." She leant down and brushed her lips against his. "Love is a kiss. Love is accurate when used to describe a hundred different things. Love is accurate when used to describe one. Love is an emotion; love is a thought.
Love, is just a word."
"Love is just a word?" He repeated.
"Love is just a word."
"Then I'm tired of talkin'."
Logan had decided not to try the front door. He made his way around the mansion, taking a route he knew well. There were a few points in his imprisonment where he'd honestly felt that he would never again see the institute and the people in it. The entire scene was almost surreal to him. It had gotten to a point where he'd be happy to have Cyke be the first face he saw. His eyes drew in the scenery, focusing quickly on Ororo's greenhouse. He followed with his eyes, and peered in to find dead or dying plants in place of the "thriving tribute to the goddess", as she called it. He wondered why she hadn't appointed someone, one of the students, to tend to it. The greenhouse had always been a symbol of her skill and pride, and she usually ensured its care, even in the midst of more difficult times. Even when she forgot to ask, someone would water the plants; the bare minimum, when she was gone.
He shook it off and shot up the stairs to the veranda, cynically laughing once he'd reached the top and faced his reflection in the glass doors. Jesus, Creed could take you down with one swipe. He thought, referring to his relatively skinny appearance. He'd put some fat back onto his previously skeletal frame, but there hadn't been a chance for him to bulk up; and with the week in Paris, he'd worked away more than he'd eaten. First order of business was the gym and the danger room; he needed to get himself looking half way decent again. Maybe the hair first. He'd been content to just tie up the past-shoulder length mane that'd grown in his time away. 'Ro must not've had a fun time gettin' me clean after she found me. He ran a hand over his hair.
"Bad news." Ororo said, striding into the hotel room. "I can't come back with you."
"What do ya mean?" He zipped up his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder.
She handed him his ticket. "There's a mission; east."
"It's been a while but it's like ridin' a bike."
A moment. "Logan, you're not coming with me." She said, realizing what he'd meant. "I won't allow it. Get back to the mansion, find your feet. If the mission requires another team member, I'll let the professor know."
"So," he began, watching her collect her bags, "what is the mission?"
"Reconnaissance. It's standard in and out." He lifted a brow, showing his reluctance at having her go. "Logan, are you forgetting that my stealth is arguably better than yours?"
"I'm in an arguin' mood."
"Careful." She said softly. "I will be back in New York soon."
Before she could walk away he spun her around and pulled her in for a kiss. It betrayed everything that he could hope to conceal; hot, lingering, desperate. It might've been a kiss one would give a first love, or a love's last kiss. "I'll be waitin'."
She smiled.
Fridge.
Brewski.
He looked at the photos on the fridge door; marveling at how much he'd missed out on. There were familiar faces there, though they too had changed. He didn't recognize too many of the kids, although it was usually the newer ones that made it to the fridge, the others were put up in the rec room. He found a picture of Xavier: he seemed to have aged beyond his years. A picture of Ororo: shaven hair suited her, but he was glad it had grown back. Though everyone was smiling in the photos, he questioned the sincerity behind the happy faces. Unless his instincts had gone to hell, he was sure those were strained poses.
Logan moved on when he discovered they were out of beer, he'd have to do something about that once he got comfortable. He entered the main corridor downstairs, peering into empty class rooms. Ain't much of a homecomin'. He thought. The rec room was his next stop, and he found that he wasn't alone. Curled up on the far couch, was Ororo's sleeping figure. Was the mission a lie? Maybe it was all a rouse to get him to come home alone. But why? Regardless, he couldn't complain about having found her. He crept up slowly, and suppressed the urge to grin like an idiot as she twitched in her sleep. He had to blink twice once he saw her hair, or the lack of it: shaven to little more than a military number cut. He moved back the small blanket that covered her so that he could see her face more clearly.
"Logan." She whispered. "No."
"Ssshh." He stroked her face gently.
"No."
"Relax darlin', it's just a dream." The change in weather caught his eye and the single, large window began to shake violently.
"No, Logan. Don't..."
He shook her softly, finding that disturbing her sleep was less dangerous than a full blown storm hitting the mansion. She was groggy at first, but finally her milky, blue eyes found his own grey ones before the transformation completed. There was a sudden look of horror in her eyes. "I was gettin' worried for a minute there. You okay?" She said nothing. He moved closer, and held her chin. "I missed ya, Windrider. Well, I don't quite know what I'd call it but, hey, love is just a word right?" He moved to kiss her, not expecting the strong fist that hit his jaw. Logan fell to one side.
"What the hell was that for?" He growled, adjusting his jaw as he stood. Ororo moved from the couch, standing tall and regal. The window behind him shook and finally shattered, large shards of glass shot straight into his back, forcing a cry of pain from him. The air chilled as it raced through the room. “'Ro!” He shouted. In one smooth motion, she leapt at Logan, using her abilites to carry him from the mansion and drop him onto the stone steps that would make the front of the building.
“You dare.” She said, voice more stern and cold than he'd ever known. “You dare to return.” The sky was charged. The winds, furious. Her anger more so. A bolt of lightning descended from the heavens, shattering the stone and causing Logan to roll back instinctively, hitting the remaining steps before the gravel. “I swore to myself that if this day would come, I would show no mercy. And I keep my word.” Another strike, sending the pebbles before him high into the air.
He was on his feet, low, defensive. “What the hell has gotten into you?” She looked like his goddess, acted like her, smelt every bit the woman he knew and... Another strike! He jumped clear, singed. “Just stop goddamnit and tell me what's happening!”
Her eyes were white, and more. They began to glow, electricity sparking from the corners. “Retribution.” Her hands took a cue, balls of lightning welling up within them. She flew forward, a lightning fist connecting with his jaw, another to his stomach and a final uppercut to throw him backwards. He struggled to focus his eyes; it had been too long, and he was still nowhere near his former strength. The sky boomed with the sound of thunder, tore with lightning.
“It has been two years since you left.” Ororo brought her hands together as though to pray.
“Two years since you restrained me, choked me, and beat me to near unconsciousness.” Fingers intertwined, she slowly lifted her hands, white with light.
“Two years since you raped me, and broke me.” Lightning shot down, a display almost too beautiful to be of mortal man. Her body seemed a lightning rod, channeling the raw power and charging it. A weapon of the gods, wielded by one. White light lit the dark night, and angel of death now walked the earth.
“Do you remember your last words to me, before you discarded me like dirt beneath your feet?” She asked, though an answer was not what she wanted.
“Love is just a word.” - Like venom from her lips. “I would give you last words, but an animal such as you, deserves none.”
The next events played in a slow and excruciating motion and lightning struck him. Logan's body seared with a pain no fire he'd ever braved had left him with. He passed out in the next seconds, but not before catching glimpse of Xavier, arm outstretched to Ororo, desperate to stop her.
To be continued I believe
