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Wolverine prowled the grounds restlessly, having emerged from the institute only moments ago, wearing hastily donned jeans and nothing more, frantic in his search for Storm. He raised his head, sniffing the air for the hundredth time, hoping to catch her scent, knowing she more than likely had taken to the air, preventing him from following her. “Where are ya, ‘Ro?” He loped across the expansive yard, his heart heavy.

Storm landed softly, her feet moving soundlessly across the ground, her eyes steady on her target; A statue that she had spotted from the air, drawing her attention. It sat in the forefront of the X-Men burial sight.
It was an amazing likeness, she thought as she approached, staring at the marble image of herself. The statue had her head tilted, stone hair flowing behind it, arms behind her as she leapt for the sky, one knee bent the other leg stretched straight, supported by marble clouds. The engraving was bold and scrawled beautifully: Our Beloved Windrider, Lost But Not Forgotten.’ And though emotionally jarring to see her own memorial, nothing could have prepared her for the name carved in the base of the statue: Ororo N’Dare Munroe Howlett.
Ororo knelt, running her fingers over the imbedded words, a sob catching in her throat.
“We figured it’s what you would’ve wanted,” came a hoarse drawl.
Ororo spun around, facing the man that she once believed loved her as much as she him, right up until he had crushed her heart. “It would have been,” she said in seething anger.
Wolverine stepped forward, his bare chest still damp from his shower, water droplets sparkling in the moonlight. Ororo turned her head away, closing her eyes, unable to look at him standing there barefoot in jeans, so beautiful, so primal. A living breathing manifestation of nature was what he was, and she found that damn near impossible to resist. Always had.
“’Ro…” He stepped closer.
“Do not!” Her head snapped up, eyes flashing.
Logan growled in frustration. He needed her to listen, but knew that even when the truth was known, the pain wouldn’t be any less, for either of them. “Dammit, ‘Ro, just hear me out.”
“Wolverine, go home. Go to your wife.” Ororo nearly choked as that word left her mouth, but did not, instead forcing her emotions back inside, under the protective casing of ice and solitude.
Heedless of her sparking eyes Wolverine stepped forward, moving cautiously as one does when faced with a wounded animal, unsure of its actions. “Viper can wait.”
Ororo gave a bitter laugh. “But apparently you could not.”
Wolverine winced. “I thought you were dead, ‘Ro,” he defended weakly.
“I wasn’t.”
Wolverine did not miss the meaning of those two small words and he hated that he had brought her to this. “’Ro, please.” He reached out, hand touching her stiff shoulder. He was immediately thrown several feet as a blast of icy wind knocked him aside.
“God damn it, Storm, listen to me!” Wolverine was angry now. All of his old hurt swelling to the surface. “You owe me that much! Let’s not forget one simple truth in all this, Storm. You left me!! You fuckin’ left!” He was snarling now.
“Are you serious?” Ororo demanded incredulously. “I did that to save your life! I saw-” Her voice faltered as she remembered the images of her friends lying dead, gutted and being devoured that had flashed in her mind that fateful day so long ago. She regained herself quickly, however saying, “ I saw what they were going to do! I felt it, Wolverine. They were going to use me to destroy the world! I had no choice!”
Wolverine growled at her. “You had a choice! You could have stayed with me!”
“I came back for you, you Pigheaded man!!” She screamed the last on a wave of frustration and sorrow. “I always come back for you.” That was whisper soft, but he heard it.
He said nothing, knowing the truth of that statement. He looked up at the sky, heaving a heavy sigh. God, how he loved her. He had to make her see.
“Go.” Ororo said again, her rage washing away, leaving her empty inside.
“I ain’t leavin’ ya.”
“You already have.”
“Fuck. ‘Ro, listen, about Viper…”
“Yes, what about Viper?” The woman in question strode towards them, her face grim. “Didn’t forget about me, did you, husband?”
“Viper. Leave!” Wolverine snarled savagely.
“What and miss the show? I think not. Nice hair, Storm.”
Crack! Viper went flying, sprawled out across the ground, her hand flying up to her bloody nose.
Wolverine stood stock still, amazed at the ferocity with which Ororo had just attacked Viper, soaring from across the distance separating them and landing a solid fist to the other woman’s face.
“Bitch!” Viper screeched, pulling her gun from her holster. Immediately Wolverine leapt in front of Ororo, claws extending. A hurricane gale flung him aside, leaving Ororo an open target for Viper, her eyes glowing white.
“Make it count,” Ororo hissed.
“Merde! Stormy!” Gambit came crashing through the underbrush, followed by an anxious looking Jean and Scott. He sent a card flying into Viper’s lap, causing the Hydra to roll away, or be left sporting some fancy scars.
“Storm!” Jean was breathing rapidly. “Come on, sweety, come home.” She placed her hand on Ororo’s arm. “Come on.”
Ororo hesitated. Jean tugged a bit on her hand. “All right.” Storm cast one last look over her shoulder at the scene behind her. Gambit was pointing and laughing at Viper, who was struggling to right herself, tangled in a bird ox bush and Wolverine was slowly rising to his feet, his gaze steady on her. His eyes were dark and determined.
*Not tonight.* Jean sent to him.
*Love ya, Jeannie, but fuck off.*
Sensing his grim determination Jean sent, *Fine, but let me talk to her first.*
“Wolverine, I t’ink your wife could use a hand,” Gambit said, strolling away from the cussing woman, picking up her gun as he went, charging it and melting it down.

Once back inside the Institute Jean lead Storm to the kitchen, shooing the others away mentally, saying, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
“Something hard,” was Ororo‘s response, and Jean laughed. She sent Scott upstairs to get a couple of blankets, knowing she and Ororo would be taking for awhile.
Once they had their drinks and were both wrapped in warm blankets on the couch in the living room Jean said, “I missed you.”
Ororo smiled. “I missed you as well, my sister.”
Jean took a drink, coughing a bit as the scotch burned it’s way down her throat. No use not talking about the elephant in the room, she mused. “He doesn’t love her.” .
Ororo said nothing and for a moment Jean wondered if she’d even heard her. Then, “He married her.”
Jean nodded. “None of us really know why. But it most definitely is not a love match. He can barely stand her.”
“He married her.” Ororo said, repeating that one irrefutable point.
Jean sighed, running one hand along the underside of her head, rustling her flame colored hair. “We could talk about something else. How did you get home?”
Ororo shrugged. “I found a slipstream portal inside a volcano, then I jumped in, and ta-da, here I am.”
“Oh my.” Jean noticed the haunted look in Ororo’s eyes and wondered once again what kind of hell Ororo endured. She leaned closer, touching her fingers to the sides of Ororo’s head, asking, “Do you mind?”
“Do not, Jean, you do not know what it is you ask.”
“Please.” Jean said, not knowing why, but needing to know what it was like for her friend for the past two years.
Ororo closed her eyes. “Not too far in,” she warned.
Jean concentrated, skimming over the surface of Ororo’s mind then finding what she sought. Darkness, fear, screams, rage, and then the imagery appeared, horrific and monstrous, worse than any nightmare she had ever had, and more terrifying than anything she could have imagined. Demonic. Pure Evil. Jean let go with a gasp, turning and retching on to the floor.
“I am sorry,” Ororo said, reaching for her.
Jean shook her head, tears sliding down her face, stomach still rolling. “My God,” she cried. “Oh, my God, Ororo I can’t…I don’t… Ohhh.”
“It is all right, Jean.” Storm stroked her hair.
“Jeannie?” Wolverine stood a few feet away, a beer in his hand, watching them.
Jean looked at Storm with watery eyes, worn out from her brief exploration of Ororo’s memories. Two years of that? How was she sane? But Jean knew the answer to that as well, having picked it up while inside Ororo’s mind. Logan. Thoughts of Logan were all Ororo had had to keep her company in that pit. All that kept her moving forward, never giving up hope that she would one day be reunited with him.
“Talk to him.” She recommended before shakily leaving the room to get a towel.
Ororo stared at Logan and her heart broke. He was staring at her like he was lost and she was the only person who knew the way home. “A walk?” She suggested surprising him.
“A walk would be…” he didn’t know how to finish that. What? Nice? Lovely? Swell? Necessary?
Ororo stood, dropping the blanket from her shoulders. “Shall we.”
Logan set his bottle on the entertainment stand, following her out to the porch. “Let’s walk by the lake,” he said.
Surprising him again, Ororo nodded. “The lake is as good a place as any, I guess.”
They walked for several minutes, their usual comfortable silence strained. “’Ro. I thought you were dead,” he began, voice hesitant.
“So you have mentioned,” she countered.
“Listen.” He gruffed. “I was lost for a long time, darlin’. I had no direction without you. I took several missions outside of the X-Men. Trying to get away, to sort it all out. Hell, I don’t know…Anyway, one of these missions took me back to Madripoor.”
The island of Madripoor was a frequent haunt of Logan’s. An island filled with the most eclectic and socially diverse people one could hope to meet. It was crawling with the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. Ruled by a harsh leader their was often turmoil and unrest. Logan had quite the reputation on Madripoor, as Patch, one of his alias. He was a renowned fighter and the winner of several Bloodsport competitions. He was also joint owner of the Princess Bar.
“Go on.” Ororo said when he didn’t continue.
Wolverine took a deep breath, kicking some loose dirt with his toe. “While I was down there, Sabertooth showed up and attacked the bar to get to me. It was a bad fight, ’Ro. I was still distraught over what he had done ta you. In the end we were both pretty fucked up, but I was a little worse for wear, considering the friends he had brought with him and their arsenal of weapons. I was pretty much done for. But then Viper showed up, and she got me home. In return for rescuing me, Viper asked if I’d marry her. I had to accept ‘Ro, Viper had saved my life. It’s giri at it’s most fundamental.”
Storm had stopped walking, her gaze looking out over the dark waters of the lake. “So you married her out of your Japanese code of honor?”
“Yes.”
“But you do not love her?”
Logan came up behind her and turned her to face him. “No, I do not love her.” He stared into her eyes.
Ororo swallowed. “Was…was the marriage consummated?”
Logan looked away.
“I see.” Storm took a step away from him. Devestated.
“Please, ‘Ro. Don’t walk away from me. From us.”
“Wolverine, you are married. There is very little of ‘us’ to walk away from.”
Suddenly she was in his arms, yanked against him savagely as his mouth claimed hers. A sound of protest formed in her throat, but changed with the feeling of his lips, his familiar, loved scent filling her head and the sound that came out was more like a moan.
“Ah, God, ‘Ro.” He breathed against her lips. His grip lessened, his lips softened and the kiss became loving, tender. “Can you really walk away from this, “ he whispered, his breath fanning her neck, followed by the moist caress of his lips. His pulled her closer, murmuring her name, tongue tantalizing her ear.
Ororo felt herself melting against him, her hands clinging to his shoulders, knees weak. Goddess, how she had dreamed of this. Countless hours, endless days. She was shaking, tears filling her eyes. He kissed the saline trails from her cheeks, kissed her nose, her eyes, her mouth, all the while telling her he loved her. Loved her. Only her. And that’s when she broke away.
“Stop.” She raised trembling fingers to her lips. “I can not do this, Logan.”
At least he was back to Logan and not the impersonal Wolverine he thought as he took a ragged breath.
“You have your code of honor to follow, Logan and I respect that. But I have a code of honor as well, and I can not be with you. You are married.”
“Damn it, ‘Ro. It ain’t even a real marriage.”
Storm veiled her eyes briefly with dark lashes, when she looked up again he was staring into orbs of white. “So long as you are married to that…person, we can not be together.” She removed the ring on her left hand, pressing it into his open palm.
“Don’t.” His voice broke. “I’ll beg if you want me to, ‘Ro. I swear I will.” He dropped to his knees.
Oh, Goddess give her strength. “Do not.” She pulled at him, his willingness to shed his pride for her killing her. “It will not change what is.”
Wolverine rose, his jaw clenched tight, fighting against the tears. “What will you do?“ he asked.
Ororo remained quiet for a long time, then, “I will not be leaving the X-Men. So long as the dream remains the same, then my place is here. I will do as I have always done, Wolverine. I will survive.”


giri= honorable debt, a Japanese custom.





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