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“Viper!” Ororo hissed the with as much venom as the name implied.
“Storm.” The other woman strode forward, her harsh, attractive features revealed by the filtering light of the moon. One of Hydra's premier agents, master of both hand-to-hand and armed combat, Viper was a dangerous enemy. She was wearing her trademark leather and snakeskin getup, her green hair pulled back in a long braid. Her dark red lips were parted in a cruel smile. “Take your hands off my husband.” She repeated, placing her hand on her hip, resting it on her holstered weapon in silent threat.
“Viper,” Wolverine growled low and fierce, his arms tightening around Storm.
“What, lover? Afraid I may hurt the little witch?”
“Logan?” Ororo turned to him, disregarding Viper, her blue eyes narrowing. “What is this woman, and I use that term loosely, doing here?”
Logan glared at Viper. Damn her! God Damn her! He looked at Storm and his eyes reflected tormented sorrow. No! He couldn’t have! He wouldn’t have!
Ororo tried to pull away from him. “Liar.” She accused. Viper thought she was talking to her and said, “Oh, no, Storm. I assure you we are very married.” But Wolverine knew the word was meant for him.
“’Ro,” he said, touching her cheek, his dark eyes black with emotion. He couldn’t get anything out past her name though, his throat closing up.
“If I were you, Storm, I suggest you cover yourself, because from the commotion your little lightshow just caused, I’d say we’re going to have company any second.” Viper said. She stood casually, with feigned indifference to the exchange between Wolverine and Storm. However, her brown eyes narrowed on the woman cradled in Wolverine’s arms, his stance screaming protectiveness.
For the first time Logan let his gaze wander down Ororo’s naked form and he swore at what he saw. She was covered with lacerations and bruises, her body blistered in some places and rubbed raw in others. What in the fuck had she been through? He looked into her eyes, which were now orbs of solid white. She was retreating from him, he realized, seeking the cold...the ice of reservation and the safety of solitude. With a savage snarl he pulled her to him, wanting her to look at him. “’Ro…”
“What in de ‘ell is going on down ‘ere?”
Figures. Wolverine pulled Ororo closer despite her trying to pull away from him.
“Merde, Wolverine. If you and de bitch-bride wanna have a little firework show warn da rest of us first. Damn near jumped outta my--” Gambit’s steps faltered. His red on black gaze disbelieving. “Stormy?”
Despite her confused state and rapidly building anger Ororo managed to smile with warm sincerity at her brother. “Do not call me that retched name.” She whispered.
Gambit’s knees gave way beneath him. Ororo tugged against Wolverine’s grip and he let her go, knowing she would never forgive him for keeping her from Gambit. Ororo dropped to her knees and embraced Remy. “Ssshh,” she soothed as he gasped for air. “I am here, Remy. Ssshh.” He was muttering furiously under his breath and Ororo was only able to catch a few words, but they made her chuckle. “Gambit, are you praying?”
“Yes.“ He raised his hands to her burnt hair. “You look like hell, padnat.”
“Funny you should mention it,” she said, tone dry.
“Merde. Sorry, Stormy. You know me, open mouth-insert foot.”
“Yes. Some things are blessedly always the same.” She said, looking over at Logan, wondering if what Viper said was true. He hadn’t corrected her, and his silent acquiesce weighed on her.
She was shivering she realized suddenly, her body too exhausted to ward off the chill in the night air. Gambit felt the small tremors running through her and swore, removing his duster and draping it over her shoulders. “Thanks.” She wobbled slightly, her eyes drooping, but Wolverine was suddenly there, strong arms lifting her, cradling her to his chest like she were a child.
Ororo sighed, pressing her nose into the soft skin of his throat. Warm, musky cigar scent filed her nostrils and she felt tears prick her eyes. Home. That’s what he was, he was her home. The place where her heart and soul resided. She brushed his skin softly with her lips. Safe. She closed her eyes.
Wolverine shuddered. His mind in chaos. ‘Ro was home, back in his arms where she belonged. He pulled her closer, rubbing his stubbled chin along the top of her head. He could feel Viper glaring poisonous daggers into him, but he was just too damn raw to care.
“Could we move it along.” Viper said as if she found this situation as interesting as a traffic jam on the interstate.
“We should get ‘er to Jean,” Gambit said, ignoring her.
“Yeah.“ Logan looked down at Storm, who was opening and closing her eyes drugedly. “We’re takin’ ya home now, ‘Ro.” He said into her hair. They began moving towards the mansion, Ororo cradled against his chest, Gambit clutching one of her limp hands and Viper trailing behind them, her mouth a thin line of contempt.
“Jeannie!” Wolverine hollered with his voice and mind, hoping to wake her up. “Jean!”
*Logan, what in the wor--?!? Storm!*
*Yeah. She found her way home, Red.*
*On my way!*

Med-Lab

“These look pretty bad, Storm,” Jean said, rubbing an alcohol soaked pad along some of Ororo’s deeper cuts. Jean had shifted straight into doctor mode upon seeing her best friend, stripping Gambit’s jacket from Ororo and examining her. She had almost cried out at the injuries she saw under the duster, but she had refrained. There were just so many. Fresh ones, old ones and fading scars. Ororo never scarred and eventually these would be nothing more than a painful memory, but Jean was still taken aback.
“The Daemonites did not take kindly to me sending them back to Hell,” was all Ororo responded with. She didn’t want to think about that place, or the countless battles she had fought. Not any more.
“I can give you something for the pain. It’ll make you sleepy but-”
“No!” Ororo jerked upright from her position on her stomach. “No sedatives.” Her voice shook. She knew she was acting strange, but couldn’t help herself. Two years in Hell had felt like a hundred and it would take her some time to get over it.
“Easy, darlin’.” Logan took a step forward, reaching for her hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, his thumb grazing the ring she still wore, tearing at his heart. Ororo smiled at him tentatively. An uneasy tension lay between them, her unspoken question and his reluctant answer hanging in the air.
Jean rolled her stool to Ororo’s side, saying, “The stitches won’t hurt.”
“I am ever confident in your skills,” Ororo said with a quirk of her lips, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes. She hissed in a breath when she felt the needle pierce her skin, but Logan took a seat right in front of her, his steady gaze never leaving hers. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, rubbed his hand along her hair.
After several minutes Jean snipped the final stitch. “Finished.” Jean said as she rolled away.
Ororo shifted so that she was laying on her side, head cradled by the sterile white pillow of the med-lab bed. Logan shifted with her so that he remained in eye contact.
Jean pulled off her latex gloves with a snap and gave Wolverine a pointed look. “She’s to rest. No disturbances.”
Wolverine looked away from Jean’s hard green gaze. He knew what she was referring to, and in fact he could smell Viper outside the lab in the hall. Viper. His lips curled in a semi-snarl. His wife.
Noticing the rigid set of Logan’s shoulders Ororo asked, “What’s wrong?”
Logan leaned forward, kissing her softly, lips lingering. “Yer home, darlin’, what could possibly be wrong. Rest now. I’ll be right here.”
*You’re going to have to tell her eventually.*
*I know, Red. But not tonight. She doesn’t need that shit right now.*
*You’re absolutely right, Wolverine. She doesn’t need that shit.*
Logan flinched, guilt settling over him like a heavy blanket. He took in Ororo’s resting profile and clenched his teeth. Fuck.

Ororo bolted upright, covered in sweat, panting. How long had she been out? She reached for her stone knife only to come up empty handed. She nearly panicked until she realized she was not surrounded by tortured screams and charred earth, but instead was sitting in a comfy bed, surrounded by medical equipment. Gambit was reclining in a chair in the corner of the room, head tilted, asleep. She smiled at him.
Where was Logan? She looked around the dim room but he wasn’t there. She frowned. He said he would be here. Grunting, Ororo pushed herself off the bed, padding across the cool tiles, her bare feet making faint slapping sounds as she went. The doors slid open with a hiss, the sound jerking Gambit awake.
“Storm?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The bed was empty. Shit. He looked around the room, checking the bathroom. No Stormy. Shit. Shit. Shit. He knew where she was headed and he needed to stop her.
“Stormy?” He called stepping into the hall. The overhead lights flickered. Looking both ways Gambit could see no one. He moved quickly down the hall pushing the elevator button, knowing she would be taking the stairs, hoping to beat her to Wolverine. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Gambit shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently. It would serve Wolverine right if he let Stormy go to his room and see what he had done, but Gambit couldn’t stand the idea of her being hurt anymore than she had been. Storm would learn the truth soon enough.
Ding. About damn time. He pushed the button for the second floor, mildly annoyed by the faint tinkering piano music playing overhead. He’d have to talk to Cyclops about that crap.
Once the elevator stopped he rushed from the sliding doors. He raced down the hall, feeling like he was moving in slow motion.
Storm heard someone call her name but ignored them. She turned the door knob to Logan’s room, opening the door without knocking. Viper stood in the center of the room, glaring at her.
“I‘d prefer it if you knocked on the door to my room,” she said scathingly.
“I apologize I thought this was Logan’s room.” Maybe he‘d moved rooms. Was he in her loft? She wondered. She didn’t have to wonder long as the bathroom door adjacent to the bedroom swung open and Wolverine stepped out, one towel draped around his waist and another in his hands as he rubbed his thick hair.
“Stormy!” Gambit’s voice came from the hall. He stood behind Ororo, his jaw tight. He placed one hand on her shoulder saying softly, “Some things have changed…”
“Viper? Who the fuck are you talking to?” He growled fiercely. What the hell was she still doing in his room. He had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to move her shit out. She had of course been furious, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d honor his end of the deal, but their situation was different now that ‘Ro was back.
Wolverine’s head snapped around as he caught the scent of earth and rain, of nature purified. “’Ro.” Logan swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He couldn’t find his voice, couldn’t make a single sound. The pain on her face made his chest ache, every heartbeat a burden. He reached for her and she recoiled as if he had physically struck her. Ororo’s gaze flicked over his wife, and though her chin remained high, when she blinked he saw a solitary tear slide down her cheek. “Let me explain,” he began.
Ororo shook her head mutely. She swallowed hard, moistening dry lips. Unshed teardrops sparkled on her thick, dark lashes, forming damp spikes, making the ache in his chest spread throughout his entire body. “Good bye, Wolverine.”
Everything he had ever wanted stood in front of him and he was about to lose it all. She stood frozen another moment, her eyes locked with his, her face bleak with pain and his heart crumbled in his chest.
Then without a word she closed the door softly, walking away from the only man she’d ever love. She could hear him making his way after her, and she just couldn’t deal with it.
“Gambit…” her voice cracked on his name and Gambit’s heart broke for her.
“No worries, petite.” He looked at Rogue who was in the hallway now, having heard the commotion. She nodded her head in understanding. They were not to let Logan pass.
Ororo made it all the way up to her attic loft before she crumpled to the floor, enormous heaving sobs racking her body. The Daemonites hadn’t managed it, two years in the foulest pits of hell hadn’t done it, but this…this did it. Tonight Ororo Munroe died.
Storm raised her head to the heavens, the bright stars twinkling at her through the skylight, their beauty a savage mockery of her pain. Rivulets of tears slid down her face, descending down her neck. She rose to her feet, her mind in turmoil. How could he? How could he!?! How dare he!!!
Walking over to her dresser she snatched up the picture sitting atop it. It was one of her. She was standing by a Willow tree, it’s roots sprawling from ground, wearing a long white dress, her hair blowing in the breeze. She remembered this picture. Logan had taken it the day after she had told him about making the roots grow. With a savage cry she hurled the image against the wall, glass breaking. That Ororo was long gone.
With brutal determination Storm picked up one of the shards of glass, headless to it gouging her palm. She bunched her charred hair in her hands and with angry satisfaction cut through the layers, watching it fall, blackened and bloody to the floor.
She threw open her closet, briefly noticing that nothing had been changed in her two year absence, pulling out her lavender and black uniform. No. She threw it aside. Reaching deep in the back of the closet she found her black leather pants and vest. Perfect.
*Ororo.* Jean could feel her rage, and tried to calm her.
*Go away!* Ororo slammed up a psychic barrier hard and fast.
In her room Jean Grey flinched. Oh, Logan, what have you done?

“Move it, Gumbo!” Wolverine snarled.
“Take it easy, homme. Stormy just need some time now.”
“Get the fuck outta my way!” -SNIKT-
“Wolverine, calm down.” Rogue said, moving to his left. If she could get close to him, maybe she could drain him enough to keep him from going after Storm. Picturing Ororo’s heartbroken face Rogue found herself once again furious at Logan. How he could marry that venomous bitch was beyond her. He had told her he had his reasons, but as far as Rogue could see there wasn’t anything that justified that.
“Listen to them, Wolverine,” came the venomous bitch’s voice from the bedroom. “Obviously the little girl needs to go lick her wounds.”
Wolverine whirled on her, his face a mask of rage. He leapt at her, two adamantium claws framing her face, the third extended until it dimpled the soft flesh under her chin. “Shut. Up.”
Viper’s breathing increased, but not out of fear. She was aroused, Logan realized with disgust. He shoved her away. Viper laughed nastily from her position on the floor, but said nothing more.
Turning back to the hall Wolverine noticed Gambit had disappeared and only Rogue stood in his way. “Step aside, Rogue, I don’t wanna hurtchya, but I will.” He said deadly serious. He needed to get to Storm. “Rogue. Please.”
Hating herself Rogue stepped aside. His eyes had been so tortured.
Logan took the stairs three at a time. “Sorry, Wolverine.” Gambit was leaning against Ororo’s bedroom door, glowing pink card between his index and middle fingers.
“Move.”
Gambit straightened. “Da only way in is through me.”
Less than half a second later Gambit’s body crashed through the bedroom door, splintering the wood and knocking the hinges loose. Wolverine strode in through his makeshift doorway only to discover the room was empty. He looked up, noticing the open skylight. “No.” he said aloud. A glimmer of white caught his eye and he turned, seeing for the first time the pile of sheared hair on the floor. He walked over to it, picking up one snowy lock. It curled softly around his blunt finger and he wanted to howl with loss.
“Wolverine.” Jean stood in the broken doorway, worry written all over her face.
“What the hell, Jean. You said that sedative would keep her out all night!”
“She must’ve fought through it. Besides, I don’t think her sleeping is your biggest issue.”
Wolverine growled. “I know.”
“I hope you give her better answers than you gave us,” Jean said in quiet anger.
“If she’ll let me.” Logan said quietly.





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