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New York
The Xavier Institute for the Gifted


Ororo Munroe jerked awake, breathing labored, hair damp with sweat.
“Easy, darlin’. I gotchya… easy.” Wolverine’s graveled voice rumbled beneath her ear, his hands soothing her tangled hair, his lips whispering against her temple. In response she buried her face into his muscled chest, hiding her tear-filled eyes, struggling to return her breathing to normal. She had been dreaming, if you could call it that. Dreaming of being chased by cloaked figures, darkness and cold swirling all around her. She was searching for someone, someone she loved. The dark demons were trying to take them away from her and no matter how fast she had tried to run her legs had been molasses, unable to move. Then she had seen Remy, laughing with her, warming her heart, her dearest friend, her brother and only confidant. He was smiling at her, dark eyes alight with mischief and merriment, so close she could almost touch him, then just before she could reach him a dark figure enveloped him, stealing him away from her, leaving her bereft in his absence.
“Logan.” So strong, so bold. Her fearless friend, her protector, her deepest love and truest heart. She clutched his hair in her hands, her body trembling with repressed emotions.
“Let it out,” he whispered, hands stroking the smooth skin of her back. “It’s all right, baby, let it out.”
With a clap of thunder violent enough to shake the Institute to its rocky foundation Ororo Munroe screamed her rage and hurt, her sadness and broken heart. Her shoulder’s shook with the terrible sobs wracking her slender frame, her voice ragged and broken as she cried and cried and cried. Wind howled, clouds swirled, branches slammed against the windows and great fat drops of silver rain fell.
Through the tempest Logan held her, murmuring soft meaningless sounds of comfort against her hair, his hands never ceasing their soothing rhythm along her back and shoulders. He held her until her sobs slowed to hiccups and sniffles, he held her as the rain slowly receded, murmuring softly all the while. They stayed that way for a long time, her face pressed tightly against his chest, his arms circling her waist, holding her as though he’d never let her go; they stayed like that until there was nothing but the sound of her deep breaths against his tearstained skin.
“Thank you.” she whispered. Logan said nothing, there was no need. Storm yawned once, already falling back to sleep, fingers still clutched in his midnight hair. He wiped the back of his hand across his damp eyes, cursing the good fer nothing’ cajun, that caused her so much heartache, and cursing himself for not being able to protect her from it.

Several Hours Later

“How many more tests ya gonna run on her?”
Hank McCoy, lovingly referred to as Beast by his fellow X-Men, refrained from answering the grumbling mutant beside him. He instead busied himself, drawing a syringe of blood from Ororo’s outstretched arm. It was early afternoon and they had been deep beneath the Mansion in the med-lab for the past several hours. Hank blotted Ororo’s pinprick with a cotton swab before applying a Spiderman band aid. She grinned at him.
“Logan, relax. I feel fine.” Ororo said, turning to him with a reproachful look. She rolled down the sleeve of her lavender blouse, a color Logan had always admired her in.
“Yeah, well as far as I’m concerned ya should still be resting.”
“Goddess, Logan, if you had your way I would never leave the bed.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Got that right, darlin’.”
Storm blushed profusely, looking at her feet. Hank cleared his throat. “We should have these results back in the morning and Jean should be down any moment with the results of your MRI and CAT scans.” Hank couldn’t keep his grin contained. “It is good to have you back, dear Storm,” he said giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“I wholeheartedly concur.” With a hiss the double doors slid open allowing for Charles Xavier and Jean Grey to enter the room. Both were dressed in white lab coats. “I must confess, child, you certainly know how to scare decades off a man.” Xavier reached for her hand, squeezing fondly.
“Charles.” Ororo bounced off the table she had been sitting on, much to the consternation of Wolverine, and hugged her mentor.
“Take it easy, will ya, ‘Ro.” Logan said, a dark frown on his face.
“Honestly, Logan, you can relax. I am quite all right I assure you.”
“Well, make this old man feel better and take a seat wouldya.” He pushed a rolling stool towards her. She pushed it right back.
“Ro.” He rumbled. She gave him a disgruntled look, but sat down on the stool when he offered it to her again. As if fearing she would jump up and do a jig Logan kept his hands placed firmly on her shoulders, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she let herself lean into him, until her back was pressed against his center, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body as it seeped into her. Absently he stroked his thumb along her collar bone.
If anyone in the room thought the interaction between Storm and Wolverine odd they kept it to themselves. Hank raised a questioning eyebrow towards Jean, who merely smiled, pulling out two floppy pieces of film, lining them up against the projection screen. A frown began to form on her face. “Professor?”
“Yes Jean?”
“Have you seen this?”
Logan immediately tensed at the note of concern he detected in Jean’s voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded.
Charles studied the films in front of him, then turned to the computer on his right, fingers rapidly punching keys.
“Would one of ya tell us what’s goin’ on.” No response from Jean or Xavier, both studying whatever was flashing on the computer screen intently.
“Charles?” Ororo questioned.
Xavier swiveled his chair around so that he was between her and the projection screen. “Nothing is wrong, per se.” he began. He rolled closer to her, staring at her in a curious manner. He pulled out a penlight, flashing into her eyes in rapid succession. Seemingly satisfied with the results, he turned to Jean. “Place the images on main view please, Dr. Grey.”
Jean did as told, dimming the lights in the room and taking a seat besides Ororo. “See these areas in red over here.” Xavier asked, pointing to one of the films with a laser pointer, highlighting an area Storm’s brain image that was spotted with red and yellow.
When everyone nodded, he directed their attention to the other film. “This Magnetic Resonance Imaging picture was done two years ago as part of your standard physical, Ororo. Notice the difference?”
Ororo looked from one to the other, realizing that the area that was bright red and yellow in her current picture was a deep purple color in the previous image. “What does it mean?” she asked.
“I am not entirely certain. This area of the brain is a type of subconscious, a normally dormant part of the brain that is rarely, if ever, active.” Xavier explained. “This new activity does not necessarily mean anything, as of yet I can only determine this as an anomaly, nothing serious. We’ll run a few more tests in a couple of days, but until then I would rather you refrain from active duty.”
“But Charles-”
“You heard the man ‘Ro. No active duty.”
“You’ll be back in the field before you know it,” Jean said. “Take some time to recuperate, and relax. You’ve been through enough.”
Ororo said nothing, but beneath his hands Logan felt her shoulder’s stiffen. She was a proud woman, and wasn’t gonna take kindly to being benched. But in his mind it was for the best. She was still recovering physically from her ordeal, not to mention the emotional toll this had all taken on her. Rest and relaxation were the best things for her, and he’d make damn sure that she got plenty of both.
“We’re all set here, Ororo. I will let you know how your blood work comes out.” Hank said, closing the manila folder that was her X-Men medical file. “Until then I suggest you go and enjoy the day well it‘s still enjoyable. By chance, did anyone else catch that freak thunderstorm early this morning?”
“Nope.” Wolverine looked pointedly at Hank. “Can’t say that we did.” He helped Ororo to her feet. “Hungry, darlin’?”
“Famished. Race you to the kitchen,” she suggested.
“Don’t think so. We’ll walk up together, nice and slow. Yer gonna take it easy if I have at watch ev’ry move ya make.”
“You are a real pain in the a-”
“’Ro-” a warning.
“As you wish.” She smiled cheekily at him. He swatted her backside as they exited the med-lab.
Once they were in the kitchen Logan began preparing his famous triple decker southwestern sandwich. They kept an easy conversation between them, each washing and slicing the various peppers needed for his salsa topping. As the spicy scent of Habanera reached her Ororo gasped, saying “I think that just may kill me.”
“Naw. Put’s hair on yer chest.”
She looked at him, eyebrows quirked.
“Storm!!” Kathrine ”Kitty” Pryde phazed through the kitchen’s swinging doors, her face alight, heading straight for Ororo.
“Hello, Kitten.” She gave the young woman a welcoming smile, eyes glowing. She grunted as Kitty flung her arms about her zealously.
“Easy, Kitty.” Wolverine admonished.
He was pretty close to Kitty and knew she was even closer to ‘Ro. When the students had been informed of Storm’s condition Kitty had taken the news harder than anyone. She had closed herself off in her room, crying and beating her pillows until they were unrecognizable masses of mutilated cotton and stuffing. To see her now you would have thought she had won the lottery.
“You’re really all right?” Kitty asked hurriedly. “You’re gonna be okay?” She looked Storm up and down as if checking for wounds. “Shouldn’t you be laying down?”
“Not you too,” Ororo groaned.
“That’s what I’ve been tellin’ her,” Logan said at the same time.
“Wow. I am so happy!” Kitty hugged her again. “I mean when the Professor told us to expect the worst-” Kitty shuddered. “Don’t wanna go there.” She watched Wolverine fill the frying pan with an assortment of sliced meats and what looked like a pound of butter, saying, “There go your arteries.”
“Take a breath,” said Logan.
“What? Right. So what’s the deal with Gambit, huh? Rogue says he turned all traitor and stuff.” Kitty popped a piece of Monterey jack into her mouth.
The knife Ororo had been using to chop onions fell from her suddenly numb fingers.
“Kitty!” Wolverine growled.
“What? Oh- Oh, hey, Storm I didn’t mean to bring that up. I’m sorry.” She looked at Wolverine’s scowling face. “I really am.”
“You did nothing wrong, Kitten.” Ororo picked up the knife and laid it carefully on the counter. “If you will both excuse me I believe I am going to have a little chat with Rogue.”
“Hold up, darlin’.” Logan stepped in front of her. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. She’s still pretty upset over the whole thing.”
“So? That does not give her the right to call Remy a traitor.”
“No. His tryin’ t’ sell ya to the big bads does!” Logan snarled. He couldn’t believe she was actually defending that snake in the grass.
“Are you serious?” Ororo demanded incredulously. “Did we brand her a traitor when she left him in Antarctica to die? No. Did we turn our backs on Jean when the Phoenix took her over, costing over five billion people their lives. Were they any less significant because they were from an alien world, Logan? No. But we accepted Jean back and Rogue. And you! You have pushed us away more times than any one member of this team, coming and leaving as you see fit. Fighting with Scott, sleeping with his wife! For crying out loud Logan we’ve all made mistakes. Every one of us!” She was holding the front of his shirt now, hands clenched in tight fists. “He is my friend, and a wise man once said to me: A friend is someone who knows your own personal song, and is there to sing it for you when you forget it. Remy has forgotten his song, Logan, and we need to sing it for him.”
Wolverine was silent for a moment, struck dumb by the vehemence of her voice, the passionate snapping of her eyes. “What moron told you that?” he rumbled after his stunned disbelief evaporated beneath the white hot burn of his anger.
“You did.”
“When the hell have ya ever listen’d t’me?” His voice had lowered to dangerous level. Upon hearing it Kitty slid back through the wall, squeaking a quick “See ya later.” out as she went.
“Huff and puff all you want, Logan. I am not afraid of your bark.” Her eyes swirled to cloudy white, snips of electricity darting out of them. He bared his teeth, she smiled. He leapt at her, she opened her arms. He pressed her close, she pressed closer.
“Ah, God, darlin’, you make me crazy.” He claimed her mouth in a savagely tender kiss. He felt her warm hands slid over his black T-shirt, arms circling his neck. He deepened the kiss, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth, a taste like no other, intoxicating and overwhelming. He could feel the feral part of him responding to her, and he pulled back. She blinked up at him, innocent seductress.
“Your meat is burning.” she said languorously.
“You have no idea,” he growled. She laughed, a genuine ripple of delight, tapping his shoulder and pointing to the smoking frying pan on the stove.
“Oh, shit!” He jumped back to the stove, yanking the pan from the burner. “You think this is funny?” he shot over his shoulder as she continued to laugh.
“A bit, yes.” She confessed tossing her glorious mane over her shoulder. She looked so beautiful sitting there at the counter, sunlight glinting off her hair, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth, that he had to take a calming breath to keep his heart from skipping. He glanced down at the blackened slices of meat caked onto the pan.
“Takeout?”
“Takeout.”





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