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Chapter Thirteen: Ferocity

Ororo came awake slowly, surrounded by the familiar scent of lingering cigar smoke. She buried her face in the pillow, opening one eye in the search for Logan. He had been her rock during the worst of her attack, keeping her as calm as he could when she woke in the infirmary screaming.

The horror of being locked within Magneto’s steel prison had caught her by surprise. While she braced herself during every mission, having him simply there, and then the walls surrounding her had been a shock to her system. Years battling her phobia had been made moot by a flick of the misguided man’s wrist.

Logan had been there through all of it. She had heard his voice even in her catatonic state. He was calling to her, urging her to come back. In medicated sleep, she dreamed of him, pulling her from the rubble of that apartment building in southern Cairo. Saving her as he always did.

Eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight pouring in through his window, Ororo stretched languidly, smiling to herself when she remembered he had dressed her in his own shirt, ensuring she had a pair of wooly socks on her feet. Such tenderness from their resident Wolverine she would have never expected nearly a year ago.

Ororo frowned when she noted Bobby was in the room, his back against the cherry wood of Logan’s dresser. She turned onto her side, covering herself carefully before the boy woke. He was still in his nightclothes, though the sun told her it was late afternoon.

“Bobby?”

The boy woke up with a start, blinking rapidly as he searched for her. Ororo smiled warmly, waving at him. He cracked a sleepy grin.

“Oops. I was supposed to call Logan when you woke up. Guess I fell asleep,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Where is he?” she asked, wondering what could have drawn Logan from his position as her personal bodyguard.

Bobby yawned. “He said something about the “danger room” and he looked ready to slice open the next person who looked at him funny.”

She threw back the covers, swinging her legs over the edge of Logan’s bed, shaking her head when Bobby’s eyes went wide.

“Oh stop it, Bobby. You’ve seen me by the pool, have you not?” she looked about the room, locating a pair of her blue jeans that Logan had no doubt taken from her bedroom.

“Right…erm… should I call him then?”

“No. I’ll go find him. Thank you for keeping watch,” she replied, giving him a small smile.

“Sure, glad you’re ok,” Bobby smiled, heading for the door.

Once he was gone, Ororo threw on her blue jeans and followed, creeping through the house so she could locate Logan without running into anyone. It was oddly quiet, hinting that everyone was either outside or too consumed with their thoughts to behave normally. Sighing, she turned the corner that would lead her to the elevator.

The Danger Room. Logan had mentioned that project of his and Scott’s enough times to pique her interest, but she had never learned more of it. The two kept it a guarded secret, even from Jean. Ororo knew this training room was in the lower levels and her best chance to find her lover was near the panels she had found him in the day of the movie.

Of course, that meant she had to brave the confines of the elevator.

Inhaling deeply, she took another step, blinking when vertigo made the room shift and sway. She grit her teeth together, forcing her feet to move again. The room spun, but she continued, forcing her fear away as best she could. If Logan was not below and sensed her fear, he would come to her rescue, claws flashing.

“Fear is not my master,” she whispered the words automatically. “I am my own master, fear does not control me.”

She pushed the elevator door open, closing her eyes when the tiny space made her want to scream. “I will conquer fear as I would any enemy. With determination, grace, and courage.”

The elevator doors hissed closed. Ororo fought to control her breathing, not opening her eyes or touching the walls. She muttered her mantra over and over, proud that she had made it this far on her own. For some reason, her need to find Logan overpowered her intense fear. That worried her a little.

Hissing doors slid open and Ororo stepped out of the elevator by memory, quirking one eye open when she knew she was clear. Grinning with triumph, she took a sharp left, heading toward the doors opposite of Cerebro.

Sounds of metal slicing metal met her ears as she navigated the newly installed corridor, thanking Charles silently for ensuring the walls gave her wide berth. She followed the sounds of metallic clinking, passing the panels where she had come upon Logan and Scott that fateful day. Enraged snarling drifted down the hall as she got closer, her brow furrowing with concern. Logan was fighting…but fighting whom?

She searched the wall for a panel, using a small electric current enclosed in her palm to search for an opening. It took her several minutes, pressed against the wall, following Logan’s growling voice, until she found what she was looking for.

The secured panel smoothly slid open as she pressed on it.

“Vocal Authorization Required,” she read aloud from the panel.

Assuming the men had designed this room to unlock for all X-Men command codes, she cleared her throat.

“Authorization Code: Storm-delta-five-zulu.”

A low hum announced the computer processing her command and a moment later, a large door hissed open to her right. She curiously peered in as the feral sounds of Logan’s battle heightened with the open doorway.

Toying with the hem of Logan’s shirt, Ororo stepped through the doorway, blinking with shock, mouth falling open in horror.

Single-handedly, Wolverine battled the Brotherhood, complete with two mutants she did not recognize as well as Sabretooth and Toad. Eyes round as dinner plates, Storm paused at the edge of the room, watching the battle play out before her, hands covering her mouth.

Obviously, this was not the actual Brotherhood. Sabretooth and Toad had been killed at Liberty Island, or so they all thought. She still had nightmares of Victor Creed’s horrifying voice begging her to scream, of her brief fight with Toad.

Snarling with rage, Wolverine pounced on Sabretooth, sinking all six-adamantium blades deep into the mutant’s chest. Sabretooth howled in agony, attempting to throw his attacker off.

Magneto raised his hands, flinging her lover against the far wall. Storm bit her lip, not wanting to distract him even as he leaped to his feet, glaring at the form of their enemy. It was pure, feral, hatred that glowed in Logan’s dark eyes, a look she had never seen before. It terrified her.

This was what he feared, she realized. The animal within, the ferocity of his darker self that always bubbled close to the surface. With wide eyes, Ororo watched Wolverine smoothly dispatch a red-haired woman, throwing her limp body to the ground with a howl. It sent chills down her spine to see him this way. So much pain and anger flowing through him that it physically hurt her to watch.

Toad was next. Wolverine sliced his tongue into six chunks with a feral grin, stabbing the amphibian-like mutant slowly, as though he relished it. Ororo felt her heart stop when he growled, low in his chest.

Magneto and a young man who moved quicker than Ororo could see advanced on him. Wolverine was not so fast, but he had an animalistic intellect and instinct. Magneto went down first, Logan’s claws ripping through the steel helmet and his skull.

The younger man made a fatal mistake. He allowed Logan to study him, cataloging weaknesses. He wound up sliced down the middle, falling in a heap along with the other bodies.

Mystique attempted to distract Wolverine by transforming into Storm. Ororo flinched. It was going to be difficult to watch herself die at Logan’s hands. To her surprise, he hesitated. Curious, Ororo took another step into the room, watching as he circled the metamorph.

Pyro took his chance. He shot a wall of flame at Logan, laughing manically all the while. Storm wanted to rush to his aid, but something told her that would only get her killed. He had hesitated once when Mystique fooled him, in his feral state, she had no doubt he would not make that mistake twice.

The flames obscured her view, making her bite her lip. Logan was covered with blood, so something about this bizarre room could harm him. She nearly raised her hands to conjure a rainstorm when Pyro screamed, his voice gurgling. Storm winced, finally noting that Logan had killed the boy, claws buried in his chest.

One strong arm reached up, snapping John’s neck as though it were a toothpick for good measure.

Mystique was back. In her natural form, Logan did not flinch. They fought for long minutes, the woman’s agility and martial skill giving her opponent a run for his money. But Wolverine was tenacious. He pursued her carefully, watching her every move as a wolf would prey.

It all ended when Mystique miscalculated, her fatigue factoring in. Logan pounced, with a roar and slit the woman open. Storm had to avert her eyes, even as Logan howled with triumph. He had not yet detected her and she slowly turned her eyes back to the massacre, her heart in her throat.

Logan stood in the center of the dead bodies, breathing hard, claws extended, eyes flashing with wild fury. Ororo stared in shock, unable to tear her eyes from his blood and sweat soaked form.

Finding her voice, she announced herself.

“Wolverine?”

He turned sharply, growling at her. Something flickered behind his eyes, shaking him from his rage. She noted he raised his face just slightly, sampling the air quickly. His eyes closed for a moment, his claws retracting with a resonating snikt.

“’Ro?” his voice was gravelly, hinting that his beast had not yet been fully tamed.

“Yes. I am here,” she replied, taking another cautious step, eyes darting to the bodies littering the floor.

“Hang on,” Logan said curtly, drawing her gaze back to him.

“Computer, end program.”

With a gasp, Ororo watched the bodies shimmer, then fade away. The room turned from an obstacle course to smooth steel walls an instant later, leaving Logan alone with her.

“Ya shouldn’t have seen that,” he snapped, sounding a little upset with her.

“Logan…” she took another step to him.

“What?”

Angry now, Ororo placed her hands on her hips, reeling in the sting that threatened her eyes. “Do not be angry with me, Logan. I was worried for you.”

He did not approach her, glinting dark eyes held her in place, though she could see he was still attempting to keep himself in control.

“I’m fine. Happy now?”

“Logan.”

“Storm, you shouldn’t have watched that!”

“Why?”

He stared at her in surprise, giving Ororo the opening she had been looking for. She marched over to him quickly, aware that his scent clung to the shirt she was wearing. Hopefully, that would be enough to tame his baser instincts. Perhaps he would recognize her as his mate, something to protect. The thought thrilled her for a moment.

“What are you doin’?” he asked, sounding a bit uncertain.

Standing directly in front of him, she smiled softly, reaching for his hand.

“I am not afraid of you, my Logan.”

He stared at his hand as though he had never seen it, watching as Ororo lovingly traced the lines of his knuckles, over the long bones she knew concealed his lethal weaponry. He had killed with these hands, mercilessly and in cold-blood. But his hands also bore an aching tenderness she had barely come to know. This duality fascinated her on a daily basis.

“Let me see them,” she whispered, placing her fingers into the grooves between his bones.

Without a word, Logan slowly unsheathed his claws, Ororo’s fingertips buzzed at the power that radiated from them. Feeling his flesh and bone shift and pull, she smiled. Yes, these were the hands of a ferocious killer and yet, those of a good man.

“Beautiful,” Storm murmured, stepping away from him.

He drew the claws back into his skin, blinking at her as though confused. Ororo smiled, allowing that familiar sting to overcome her eyes.

“Now, feel me,” she commanded, her voice taking on a powerful edge. “Do you fear me?”

“No,” he said in that growling whisper. “Never.”

Smiling broadly, Storm conjured wind within the strange room he had helped build, allowing them to lift her into the air. Positioned aloft, she brought forth the fury of a raging hurricane into the room. Wind that howled, rain slicing through the now damp air, thunder rumbled and lightning crashed.

She looked down, surprised to find Logan kneeling against the power of her winds. And he was smiling. His face was turned toward her, a sort of contentment in his expression mixed with what she thought was awe. Grinning in return, she raised her hands, reveling in her power, the thrill it brought her that Logan was below, watching her as though nothing else in the world could hold his attention.

A sudden, low howl sounded from below, sending a thrill down her spine. In response, she whipped her winds faster, making them scream within the confines of the Danger Room. The howl increased and so did the wind, almost as though two forces of nature were communing, as they had in ancient times.

She relaxed a few moments later, lowering herself to the ground, shifting the winds so she was directly above a smirking Wolverine. He held his arms out, letting her drop right into his embrace as the wind abated, leaving them both sopping wet.

“Wow,” he breathed, holding her close. “Beautiful.”

Comfortable in his arms, she leaned up to kiss his lips. “I am not afraid of you Logan, and I embrace the Wolverine.”

Logan’s eyes softened, as though he had never heard such a thing before. He leaned closer to her, smirking slightly.

“I’m not afraid of you, ‘Ro and I embrace the Storm.”

“Good,” she said quickly, jumping from his arms with a grin. “Now, let us find some thing to eat while you tell me what this Danger Room actually is.”

~@~

“Holograms,” Henry was saying as the group sat in the backyard, enjoying a light breeze as Storm controlled a steady rainfall over her blue friend’s dying garden.

“Holograms?” Peter asked skeptically. “Those are harmless.”

“Not these,” Scott chimed in from his place across from Storm. “They approximate levels of danger and injury and implement them. That means…”

“You could die,” Logan grunted from beside her. “We have different levels. So you can do somethin’ light, only feelin’ like ya got hit with a bullet-proof vest on.”

“Minor injuries, things like that. The higher the level, the more dangerous it becomes. The computer programs are intelligent and they use whatever model to fight, meaning all of their skills and even some problem solving. Logan and I have been testing it for two weeks.”

“Scott,” Ororo chided, guiding her miniature shower across the garden. “You have been keeping secrets. Both of you.”

“Well, we didn’t want anyone experimenting before it was ready,” he gave Rogue, Bobby and Kitty a pointed glare.

“What?” Rogue asked, all innocence.

When Ororo caught Logan’s eye, he shook his head. They both knew better. Rogue and her friends would have sneaked into the Danger Room that first night, possibly injuring one another fatally. She was secretly happy her friends had not chosen to reveal the Danger Room’s location or abilities until now.

“When can we start training?” Peter asked, looking as excited as he ever did.

“Storm, please get the roses as well,” Henry asked quietly, making her smile.

“Yes, dear,” she replied, shooing her tiny clouds toward the drooping flowers.

“While you’re at it,” Logan nudged her. “Get my bonsais.”

The entire group turned to Logan in shock. He was staring at Storm as though she had grown another head, and she was sure her look mirrored it. Turning to Henry, Logan opened his mouth and the clipped tones of what seemed to be Japanese flowed easily from his gruff voice.

“Logan?”

He shook his head, as though clearing it. “There’s somethin’ that doesn’t happen every day.”

“A repressed memory?” Henry asked, closing Bobby’s mouth with a clawed fingertip.

“Nah,” he replied, shrugging it off. Ororo could tell he was worried. “Just this image of bonsai trees and I suddenly knew how to speak Japanese.”

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence and Ororo, lost in her thoughts did not notice the thick blanket of fog that rolled in around them. Watching Logan carefully, she noted the tension of his shoulders, which had not been there since their encounter in the Danger Room hours before.

They had left the room quickly, coming up to eat a light meal at the new picnic table when Scott appeared, asking what had been going on in the lower levels. She had lied easily, saying Logan had been showing her the benefits of the Danger Room. Scott had seemed a little miffed, but as the crowd grew, secrets began spilling from both men.

“Erm, Storm?” Scott’s voice cut through her musings.

“Yes?” she asked, blinking, wondering why it was so dark.

“Worried, darlin’?” Logan chuckled from beside her.

“Whatever do you mean, Logan?”

“Judging from the fog, which I can’t even see my own hand in, I’d say you’re thinkin’ bout somethin’ that has you worried all right,” came the easy reply.

“Oh! My goodness,” Ororo instantly began to reign in the fog, replacing the stifling darkness with pure sunlight. Her eyes stung as she converted them back to her natural color, smiling sheepishly.

Everyone laughed a little, thanking her for bringing back daylight, though their gazes continued to flicker to Logan. He sat in silence now, puffing on his cigar, looking lost in thought. Wishing she did not have a need to avoid outward physical contact in the presence of others, she watched him closely.

“What?” he growled to the assembled mutants.

“Nothing,” Bobby said, looking away.

“Logan, is there anythin’…” Rogue trailed off.

“I’m fine,” he turned away from the table. “Chuck’s pagin’ me.”

Before anyone could utter another word, he stood from the table, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sauntered off toward the mansion. Ororo watched him go, painfully aware that the others were staring at her. Thanking Logan silently for making her change out of his shirt earlier, she raised a brow to her friends.

“Go after him,” Rogue beamed. “We all know yah want ta.”

Keeping her serene look upon her face, she merely raised the eyebrow further, her heart wanting to rush over to Logan as fast as the winds could take her.

“Perhaps I will check on Jubilation’s flight,” she said simply, standing calmly. “Will you be riding along with Scott to fetch her?”

Rogue and Kitty nodded eagerly. “Course we are!”

“Good, then I will ensure we have all the pertinent information.”

She moved to walk away, keeping her steps slow, relaxed, as she made her way back to the mansion. Splashing from behind told her that the younger X-Men had decided to slip into the pool, after all. Rogue and Kitty squealed as their companions laughed uproariously.

Stepping into the kitchen, Ororo made a move to the Professor’s office, halted in the corridor by a whimpering cry from the living room. She paused, wondering who could have made that noise before moving toward the sunny room.

Her guard was up as she looked about, searching for the increasingly loud sobbing that directed her toward the far side of the room, behind her favorite armchair. A sudden chill seemed to waft through the open windows. While Storm felt the cold, it did not affect her and she rounded the edge of the sofa carefully, peeking over the edge.

Jean was hugging herself tightly, crying into her arms as a child would. Startled, Ororo slowly kneeled, reaching for her friend. Jean’s clothing was dirt, torn at the edges as though she had crawled through the woods on her hands and knees. Red hair was matted to her skull, caked with mud.

“Jean?”

Green eyes peered at her from over her pale arms, fear screaming from them. Taken aback, Ororo moved a little closer.

“What happened?”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Jean screamed.

“Jean?”

“W-Will you hurt me?”

Terrified at how small Jean’s voice had suddenly become, Ororo shook her head. “No, sweetheart, I will not harm you.”

“I’m looking for my sister, we were in the woods” Jean’s childlike voice whispered. “But I can’t find her now.”

Swallowing hard, Ororo sent a mental shove toward Charles, hating to break up whatever meeting he was having with Logan. Something very odd was happening to Jean and that took instant precedence.

“What is your sister’s name, darling? Perhaps we can find her together,” she tried for a kind smile.

“H-Her name is…Squirrel,” her friend whimpered. “I wish I could find her. I’m scared.”

It was then that the pitch of Jean’s voice and her disheveled appearance made sense. Squirrel had been Jean’s nickname for her the few years they had been tutored by the Professor. Once Storm had taken her codename, the nickname fell into disuse.

“Wombat?” she tested carefully, reaching for her. It had taken a moment to jar her memory for Jean’s matching nickname.

Jean looked up, smiling a little. “Squirrel?”

Ororo nodded, shooting a look to the entrance of the room, where Logan and Charles had appeared. She sent another mental tug to Charles, keeping her eyes on Jean as her hand grasped Jean’s trembling fingers.

What is it, Charles? She believes we are still children.

I do not know, Jean is blocking me. What has she said?

She called me Squirrel. I believe she thinks we are seventeen, the summer we got separated from the others while camping.

Oh, dear.

Yes, please move Logan back and fetch Scott. She will remember him. Perhaps we can get her to the infirmary.

“Storm?”

Ororo’s eyes blinked rapidly, staring at Jean. The woman looked around, seemingly confused as to her surroundings. There was no trace of the trembling fear of a teenager in Jean grabbed the edge of the couch, standing slowly.

“Jean?” she said slowly, afraid for her friend.

“Yes, what…what’s going on?” her green eyes found Ororo’s. “I don’t remember coming in here…why am I dirty?”

Scott, flanked by Henry, entered a moment later, worry etched into his face. He moved instantly to Jean, scooping her into his arms and holding her tightly. Jean sighed, falling into his embrace, making Ororo’s heart ache.

“Again?” she overheard him whisper.

“Yes. I don’t know what happened…” Jean replied, her voice muffled by Scott’s shoulder.

Shocked, Ororo turned back to the Professor, whom nodded gravely. “Jean has slipped into childhood memories a few times since she defeated her darker side. They are never violent or terrifying memories, so we thought it best to not mention it.”

Feeling utterly betrayed, Ororo walked around the couch, brushing past the Professor and Logan, feeling that sting behind her eyes. Letting it go, she barely heard Logan’s soft call of her name as she rounded the corner that led to the stairs.

Once upstairs, she entered her bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. Fog rolled out along the mansion’s grounds, accompanied a moment later by steady rainfall. Thunder rumbled ominously, but she mentally told it to quiet. She could deal with this without noise.

Only the rain and that thick fog betrayed her emotions. Fear for her friend, sorrow for her pain and the betrayal that she had dealt herself. In her budding relationship with Logan, she had let everything else slide. Jean was in trouble and she had not poked her beneath the clouds to see what was happening in her world.

With a sigh, she lay back on her bed and let it rain.





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