Disclaimer: don’t own them, just playin’.
chapter four…
Logan had said little to Ororo on hearing her revelation. After a lengthy
silence he’d mumbled something about needing to go clear his head and
didn’t come back until late that evening.
When he’d gathered himself together enough to go back to their room he’d
discovered a very empty bed. So he’d followed the lingering stream of her
scent and wasn’t surprised to find her asleep, at the side of Catherine’s
bed, slumped in a chair.
He’d considered waking her but then thought better of it, leaving the room
as silently as he’d entered.
He went back up to their room hoping a good nights sleep would do what the
walk didn’t.
* * *
Logan let his head loll to the side idly on the pillow. The garish red of
the digital clock on the bedside table came slowly into focus, its
brightness causing havoc with his sensitive eyes. Peering at the offending
object through a squint, he could just about make out the time at six
thirty.
“Great.” He grumbled. It was five minutes later than the last time he’d
looked. And ten minutes since the time before that. He’d been doing this
all night----not a single wink of sleep.
Logan lent up lazily on his elbows, the white bed sheet falling down
around his midriff. Suddenly his attention snapped to the door, he could
have sworn he’d heard movement. And sure enough there it was, the sound of
soft footfall coming carefully up the attic stairwell.
Then her scent drifted to him, so comforting as always. After all the
sense of smell is the strongest trigger of memory and all her scent ever
brought him were good ones. Also a great feeling of peace----serenity
even. For a second he was lost in it, forgetting the events of the
previous day.
“Good morning.” Ororo smiled sweetly at him as she came through the door,
still dressed in yesterdays clothes. Her hair was dishevelled from
sleeping in the chair and her eyelids seemed heavy. But even so, she still
carried a preternatural beauty about her.
Logan said nothing as he watched her come towards him and sit at his side
on the bed. She ran her hand over his bare abdomen, letting it rest there
as she lent in and kissed his lips softly.
Still he maintained his silence, nor did he return the kiss, he simply
watched her actions in the hazy, bluish grey morning light.
Eventually Logan shifted position, pushing himself more upright,
resting his back on the stylish wrought iron headboard.
Ororo let her hand fall from his body as he moved. Running her fingertips
lightly along the edge of the sheet at his waist, she asked, “Sleep well?”
Logan regarded her for a little while longer, with a gaze that was
becoming a tad too cold for her liking before he replied to the question
with one of his own.
“Why’d you never tell me ‘Ro?” To Ororo’s relief he didn’t sound
particularly angry, more curious.
She sighed, turning her attention down to her bare foot as she traced her
toes along the join of two floorboards, considering her response.
“You know how traumatised I was by everything that happened-----how I’ve
only ever been able to tell you the barest of details-----because I have
blocked out most of what happened.”
Ororo stopped as she climbed on to the bed, enveloping his torso with her
long, slender arms. She rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes as
she relished the sound and the feel of his steady heartbeat on the side of
her face. He was so warm, being so close to him made her feel safe. It
made her feel she could cope with this, if he was by her side.
He brought his arms up around her slowly. Clasping his hands together at
her shoulder, he let his cheek rest on the top of her head.
“I know it was hard but----but that still doesn’t explain why you never
told me about all this.” His tone became increasingly agitated as he
spoke. “I mean-----there’s a whole part of you that I don’t know
about.---- It’s thrown me darlin’.”
Ororo turned her face up to see him, making Logan pull his head back.
Looking directly into his eyes, she said, “I thought she was dead Logan. I
thought Catherine was dead.” The words came out in barely a whisper.
That seemed to stop him in his tracks, he looked startled for a second.
But then he gained his wits and pulled her tighter to him.
Planting a soft kiss on her forehead he then asked, “What about your
sister? What happened to her?”
Ororo laid her head back down on his chest and screwed her eyes shut
tight. She pursed her lips together to stop the tortured sound that she
just knew was going to escape her mouth if she tried to answer.
Logan felt her entire body go rigid, making him instantly regret asking
the question. She didn’t need to reply, her body’s reaction and the sudden
change in her scent told him the answer.
“God ‘Ro----I’m sorry.”
Ororo turned her face fully into Logan’s body as she gripped him tighter,
but there were no tears. Her voice was muffled against his skin as she
said, “I found her in Cairo. She died in my arms Logan,-----she died in my
arms.”
Logan closed his eyes as his brow furrowed, those words stung him----they
really did. He brought his hand up into her hair, cradling her head as he
began to slowly rock her from side to side.
“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.”
* * *
Marie struggled to balance the breakfast tray between her raised knee and
left-hand as she knocked on the guest room door.
She waited patiently for a response as she lowered her leg and gripped the
tray safely with both hands again.
There was a rustling of sheets and one or two groans of bedsprings before
the rooms occupant called, with a sleep induced croaky voice, “Come in.”
Marie managed to nudge the door handle down with her elbow, before pushing
the door open with her body.
“Ah’ve brought you some breakfast.”
“Thank-you.” She said as she climbed out of bed.
“Ah’ll just put it on here for you.” She set the tray down on the desk
opposite the bed as Catherine went into the bathroom.
Marie was about to leave, but she was too curious. So she sat on the bed
and waited for the girl to come out of the shower.
After around five minutes she heard the squeaking of metal knobs and the
sound of rushing water ceased.
“So, what’s yaw name?” Marie called in the direction of the bathroom.
At that moment she came back into the room wearing a thick creamy coloured
bathrobe and wrapping her hair in a large white towel. Arranging it on her
head like a turban.
“Catherine.”
“Oh, right. Ah’m Marie.” Marie’s eyes wondered around the room as she
tried to think of something to talk to her about.
Catherine sat at the desk, tucking into the food hastily. Marie looked on
in mild shock, she couldn’t fit the stuff into her mouth fast enough!
Averting her eyes, she asked, “Err, so you know Ms. Mun---, ah mean,
Ororo?”
Catherine nodded her head in reply as she continued to shovel more food
into her mouth. Swallowing down a rather large mouthful she said, “ Well I
do not know her properly yet, but we are related.” Picking up her glass
she took several fast gulps of her orange juice.
“Related!” Despite the obvious physical similarities, now that she thought
about it, she was still genuinely surprised. “I thought Ororo’s family
wuz--- ya know---“ She shrugged her shoulders as her voice trailed off.
Catherine instantly stopped eating, turning her head slowly to look at
Marie. Her face held an odd expression, one that Marie couldn’t quite put
her finger on. But she did get the impression that she’d hit a raw nerve.
Catherine said nothing and turned back to her breakfast, but she didn’t
continue with it. She started to push the scrambled eggs around her plate
with her fork absently.
#Think, think, think stupid!# Marie tried desperately to think of a way to
steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Where”where’s that accent from then?” She stuttered.
“Cairo.” She replied quietly, setting her fork down on her plate.
“Right. Ororo lived there for a while didn’t she? I don’t really no all
that much about her past.” Marie gave a small laugh, almost to herself.
“Ya’ll find that most people round here don’t often talk about their
pasts.”
“Really? Why is that?” She turned the swivel chair around so she could
face Marie.
“Ya’ll do know what kinda place this is-----don’t ya?” She asked
hesitantly.
“It is a haven, yes? For mutants?”
Marie smiled, “Yep, that’s right.” She tugged up the edges of her long,
green gloves before adding, “If ya don’t mind me askin’, are you a
mutant?”
Catherine shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t think so.----At least, nothing
has changed in me yet.”
Marie nodded, tucking her white fringe behind her ears as she stood from
the bed, “Anyways, ah’ll leave ya alone now. Let you finish yaw
breakfast.”
“Thank-you, for the food I mean.”
“Ya’ll welcome Catherine.” As Marie departed the room she picked up the
tray that still sat on the dresser from the day before.
As soon as the door closed Catherine suddenly brought her hand up to her
forehead, rubbing her fingers across her knitted brow. Her head was
throbbing, a migraine the size of China was brewing in there, she just
knew it.
Getting up from the chair, she almost stumbled as she made her way back
over to the bed.
Maybe she needed just a little more rest.
* * *
At that moment, in Xavier’s office----
“O. K Jean, here are this weeks science class lesson plans. Thank-you
again for covering for me at such short notice.” Professor Xavier handed
Dr. Jean Grey a brown, card folder containing the plans across the desk.
“Thanks Charles, it really isn’t a bother.” She said as she placed the
folder in her brief case that held all her work papers pertaining to her
teaching position at the institute.
“Oh, that reminds me Professor, I was going to ask you if---ARGH!” Jean’s
hands shot up to grasp at her head as she doubled over in obvious agony.
“JEAN!” The Professor was about to pull out from beneath his desk when the
same pain that had befallen Dr. Grey hit him also. It was so sharp and so
sudden that it made him lurch to the side, sending him tumbling to the
floor.
Then, just as quickly as it came, it vanished.
Gaining her whereabouts swiftly, Jean scrambled around the desk to Xavier,
who was struggling to push himself upright.
“Are you O. K Charles?” She asked frantically as she helped him into a
sitting position.
Leaning back on his overturned wheelchair, Xavier tried to order his
thoughts after such an invasive shock.
His breathing was rather laboured as he tried to reassure Jean, “I’m fine
Jean, it’s alright.”
“What was that? I felt as if someone had rammed a white hot poker into my
mind!”
“I’m not sure Jean.----I’ll have to go to Cerebro to try and find out.”
Charles was playing dumb but he had his suspicions about what it was that
had just ‘attacked’ them. If that trace of consciousness was whom he
thought it was then they were in for trouble. More precisely Ororo was.
Internally, he hoped to god that he was mistaken.
* * *
It was now eleven thirty and Ororo Munroe had taken it upon herself to go
and rouse her niece.
She had gone to see her after Marie had told her she’d already taken her
some breakfast at nine o’clock. But when she’d gotten there she was
dismayed to find she was asleep once more.
Ororo knocked on the door first but didn’t wait for an answer before she
entered.
Catherine was stood by the window, looking down onto the front lawn, from
which the soft laughter and playful shouting of children emanated.
She certainly looked much better than she did when she’d arrived, now
dressed in a pair of simple pale jeans and a black polo necked top. Her
thick hair was pulled back form her face, fastened loosely at the nape of
her neck with a slim blue clip.
“Everybody seems very happy here.” She said, not taking her attention away
from the scenes below.
Ororo smiled, “Yes, I think they are. Here they are excepted for who they
are, no fear, no hate.” She went over to the bed that she noted had been
immaculately remade. Sitting at its foot she called, “Catherine.”
Slowly she pulled her gaze away from the window to see Ororo patting the
space next to her, beckoning her to come over. She took one last glance
out of the window before she did just that.
Ororo watched her for a moment, sitting at her side. She was fiddling with
the cuffs of her top, just like she had the day before with her coat.
“Can I ask you a question?” Catherine said quickly with a nervous glance
in Ororo’s direction.
She ran her hand affectionately over the girl’s hair, “Of course you can.”
Her eyebrows knitted as if she were deliberating over whether or not to go
ahead with her request. But clearing her throat as if to ready herself she
then asked, “Are you----- my mother?”
As soon as she’d spoken the words she looked up at Ororo, her dark eyes
wide with hope, fear----innocence.
Ororo smiled at Catherine but her eyes betrayed the gesture and for a
second all she could do was return the girls gaze.
Eventually she began to shake her head gently, her loose hair failing
about her shoulders. “I’m sorry Catherine, but no,----- I’m not your
mother.” She spoke with genuine regret.
Catherine couldn’t stop her disappointment from showing, she’d let herself
believe it for so long. That this Goddess, this mutant that lived in
America was her mother, Ororo’s answer almost crushed what was left of her
spirit.
Ororo sensed this, she wrapped her arm around her and pulled her close.
Softly she said, “I may not be your mother Catherine but you were right to
come and find me.”
“Oh?” Catherine turned hr face back up to Ororo, the spark of hope
flashing in her eyes once more.
“Yes, I’m your aunt. Your mother was my elder sister.”
Catherine stood up from the bed, wrenching herself from Ororo’s embrace.
She paced aimlessly for a minute, not sure how to feel.
“Then----then where is she? Why did she leave me at that place?” She was
pleading for answers now. Answers to the questions that had plagued her
her entire life.
Ororo held her hand out to the girl, “Come back here and sit, please. What
I’m about to tell you----isn’t pleasant.”
-TBC-
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