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Chapter Seventeen: Magneto


“God….no…please…dark…‘Ro…NO!”

Ororo woke with a start, pain zinging through her body the moment her eyes opened. An adamantium-laced arm had smacked her directly in the nose. Holding the throbbing appendage, she turned in her bed, crying out when she noted Logan’s flailing limbs and tear-stained face.

“Logan?” she dodged another of his thrashing limbs, shaking his shoulder. “My darling, wake. It is only a dream.”

“Ororo! I’m comin’! Too small…she can’t….its too small! RO!”

His scream nearly tore her heart from her chest. Choking back a sob, she lay flat on her back as he pinned her, screaming her name.

“LOGAN!” she called, trying to rouse his conscious mind.

“STORM!”

Scott was outside her bedroom door, shouting for her, the handle jiggling as he tried in vain to open it without much force. She could hear running footsteps as the others joined him, trying to coax an answer from her with frightened voices and pleading cries.

She paid them no mind, her every thought focused on her frenzied lover. Logan’s eyes were open, but she could see there was no comprehension in them. She reached for him again, this time met with a furious snarl.

“Logan? It is all right. I am here,” she pled, moving slowly to touch him.

His screamed another growl and Ororo held her breath.

SNIKT!

For one terrifying moment, Logan’s claws were aimed directly at her pounding heart. She kept her eyes open, not daring to blink them, refusing to fear him. A flicker passed over his eyes and his claws descended faster than she could think, though his hand shifted in mid-thrust.

The instant his claws grazed her flesh, Ororo exhaled, grabbing Logan’s face in her hands. The door blew open a heartbeat later and the combination of his claws buried in the mattress with Scott’s intrusion finally shocked Logan out of his nightmare.

“’Ro…”

“Shh,” she soothed him. “I am not hurt. It is all right.”

“Storm?” Scott’s voice wavered.

She could only assume what a horror he had come upon. Logan’s claws were embedded in the mattress, the adamantium had pierced her nightgown, pinning her to the bed. She felt the sting of three tiny cuts at her ribcage.

“Ororo…did I?”

“You missed,” she grinned shakily, knowing that in ten seconds he would smell her blood. “Paper cuts, nothing more.”

The terror in his eyes wrenched her heart even further. Before he could move, she clamped her legs around his waist, his eyes locked onto hers. She had to reach him, now, to ensure him he had missed intentionally in his nightmare.

“Logan, you nearly stabbed me in the heart,” she said bluntly. “Something changed your aim and you hit the mattress instead. You knew it was me, on some level, my love.”

It was the first time she had used such an endearment for him and the recognition registered in his eyes before it was replaced with that same terrible fear. Fear of what he had done, of what he could have done, shook him to the depths of his soul. She could see all of it and knew, little by little she was losing her hold on him.

Ororo heard Scott heading off the curious students, most of whom knew of Logan’s nightmares. Most of them had violent nightmares after the turbulent events of the last year and it was somewhat comforting to them knowing that the big, bad Wolverine was not exempt.

“I will return with a med-kit,” Hank said quickly, excusing himself.

A single tear fell from Logan’s eyes onto Ororo’s cheek. Heart breaking, she wiped his tears away though her nose still ached from the force of his flailing arm. She would not allow him to move until he realized she was all right, until she knew he could move beyond this trial.

“Logan, do not blame yourself. You were having a nightmare, an ailment that affects most in our line of work,” she crooned, stroking his cheek gently.

“Most people can’t kill ya in their sleep, ‘Ro,” he sniffed, his face betraying his fear as he finally smelled her blood.

Dark eyes raked down her body, stopping at her left ribcage, his eyes widening in complete horror.

“I can’t pull them out without makin’ it worse,” he choked.

“I know. Do not move and do not leave this room once I release you. Promise me,” she demanded, tightening her legs around him.

“I promise,” his whisper was filled with pain.

Slowly, Ororo released him, untangling her legs gently, trying to not spook him into rashness. Hearing the return of both Scott and Hank, she glanced over, noting that both men were poised to move. Jean stood behind them, her hand covering her mouth.

Carefully, she reached for her nightdress and unbuttoned the front, allowing her to slip out of it, leaving Logan’s claws jammed into the springs of her bed. Once she was clear, she stood, taking the towel Jean appeared with and covering herself as someone flicked the lights on.

Snikt.

Logan retracted his claws, but when Ororo turned, he had not moved from the bloodstain leaking into the bed. He looked at it as though it were a dying child and he the murderer. Ororo shrugged Jean away, heedless to the pain from the minor damage to her side, reaching for Logan’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna have to break a promise, ‘Ro,” he said quietly, flinching from her touch.

“Logan…”

“I’m sorry.”

He grabbed his jeans, which had been hanging over the bedpost and pulled them over his boxer shorts. Ororo watched in a kind of numb disbelief as he turned and walked to the door, snarling at Scott and Henry to get out of his way.

“Logan!” Ororo’s pursuit was cut short when a stabbing pain raced through her side. Gasping through it, she clutched her injured ribcage and reached for her sister.

“Jean…”

The red-haired telepath urged her back onto the bed, calling for Henry with the medical kit. As expected, the three cuts were barely a cause for fuss. Looking down, Ororo noted they were only an inch or so long, so thin they were barely noticeable, save for the blood trickling down her hip.

“You have quite a few capillaries there,” Jean explained. “Its an easy place to bleed from.”

After a quick cleaning, though Jean said, quite aptly, that Logan could literally carry no infection; the injury was bandaged. Henry handed her a mild pain reliever and diagnosed her nose as not broken, much to everyone’s surprise.

Before any of them could ask what had happened, Ororo pulled on Logan’s shirt and marched to the door.

“He did not mean any harm. He knew I was there,” she announced from the doorway. “And that is why I am still alive.”

“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous.”

Smack!

Scott held his cheek in his hand as Ororo glared at him, her palm stinging with the force she had hit him with. Jean and Henry stared in open-mouthed shock from the bed, unable to even speak.

“Do not ever say such a thing again. Do you understand me, Scott?” she said, her voice naught but a deadly calm whisper.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

With that, Ororo turned on her heel and moved to search for Logan. She pulled up short when the sound of a motorcycle’s engine screamed into the night.

Logan was gone.

~@~

He had not returned by morning or that evening or even the morning after that. Ororo slept on her new bed, wrapped in one of his abandoned shirts. It smelled of him, and faintly of her. His toothbrush remained in its holder, his shampoo still in its place beside hers in the shower. Everything was as he left it.

Except for Ororo.

Though she tried to be angry with him, it would not come. Only the rain betrayed her sorrow, leaving her eyes as dry as ever. It had rained from the moment she heard the motorcycle peel out of the driveway, taking her love into the night. She had been asked several times to slow the downpour, but she refused. If he was close by, as she thought he was, the rain would tell him all he needed to know about her emotions.

It would rain until he returned.

The nightmare had been the first Friday of the school year, leaving Ororo to mope about for an entire weekend. Here, Sunday afternoon, she lay in her bed, praying he would come home. His shirt was far too large, giving her enough room to draw her entire body, save her socked feet, into its embrace. She inhaled deeply, the scent of him making her heart hurt even more.

Her injury had scabbed over already and the cream Henry had given her would minimize the scarring, which would be slight even without it. It was nothing to the scar on her heart, the truth that Logan had broken not one, but two promises to her.

Rogue sat on the edge of her bed, cross-legged, her testing book open in her lap, a pencil pinched between her teeth, as Logan would a cigar. It was sweet, really, watching her scowl at the book when her answers came out wrong. As though a piece of Logan had remained here with her, in the form of his favorite person on the face of the planet.

She had seldom left Ororo’s side since hearing about the incident. She had agreed with Jean’s assessment that Logan would return, but only when he realized that Ororo had not been afraid. Rogue, of course, had ranted for the better part of two hours about his leaving, stating on no uncertain terms that she would have a word with him the second he set foot back in the mansion. Ororo was sure Scott would be selling ringside tickets to the fight of the century. That one was sure to shatter windows and send dogs howling five miles over.

“All right, that doesn’t make sense,” Rogue muttered, getting Ororo’s attention.

“What is it, my girl?” she questioned, looking over to her, still clutching Logan’s pillow without really realizing it.

“The New York State Law says that yah have tah intern for over a year before yah can teach anythin’ above preschool.”

“Yes, dear one.”

“We have tah intern here?”

“Yes. But we have a much more hands on approach,” she replied with a smile.

Rogue grinned. “Liar. Yah just let us teach and pretend we’re bein’ watched.”

“Why yes, we do,” Ororo winked.

The Southern girl turned her eyes to the window, sighing as she placed her books in a neat stack on the floor. “All this rain’s real depressin’, ‘Roro.”

Blinking in confusion at the new name, she turned onto her back with a fond smile.

“Have I been given another nickname, Marie?”

Pushing her white-streak of hair from her eyes, Rogue nodded with a grin. “Ah can’t call yah ‘Ro, cause tha’s Logan’s name for yah. Storm is a codename and it seems too impersonal. So I dropped yah first O.”

Ororo sat back, contemplating this. “If you use it, I have no doubts that the other new X-Men will as well.”

“Probably right.”

Chuckling, she threw her hands up. “I will add it to my never-ending list of aliases.”

“Good. Now, come on. We’re goin’ tah get some ice cream. Maybe after a sugah rush you’ll let the sun shine for awhile.”

Rogue grabbed Ororo’s feet and tugged hard enough to make her sit up. Knowing the girl was as much, if not more, tenacious than even Logan, she sighed and stood, following her into the hall.

The trip to the kitchen was largely uneventful, though Ororo did receive a few pleading stares to end the rainstorm from her students. She ignored them, realizing she was being childish and blaming it on Logan’s bad influence.

Jean and Jubilee were already there, sharing a piece of chocolate cake smothered in ice cream, talking in a low tone. It was strange to think that both Jean and Ororo had “adopted” one of the new female X-Men, taking them each under their respective wings.

Both women looked up sharply from their conversation, grinning widely as Rogue paraded the seemingly reclusive Storm through the doorway.

“She lives,” Jubilee exclaimed with flair as Ororo entered the kitchen.

“That I do. Is there any ice cream left?”

“Yes, chocolate chip on the counter.”

Ororo halted for a moment, turning to the kitchen door and staring. Had she not thought, so often during Jean’s long absence about the kitchen and chocolate chip ice cream? Heart aching even more within her breast, she moved instantly to her friend and roped her into a tight embrace, inhaling deeply of the peppermint scent she would always associate with Jean. She broke away without a word, waving them all off as the rain beat more steadily against the windowpane.

The women respected her privacy and while Rogue gave her a quick hug as well, they continued their idle conversation whilst Jubilee fetched more bowls and spoons for their company.

Just as Rogue spooned the ice cream into bowls, a shrill call for “Doctor Grey” sounded from the hall.

Paying no attention to her unkempt appearance “ Jean was no better in any case “ Storm followed the other women out of the kitchen at a run, searching for the cause of distress.

Once in the hallway, all four pulled up short, Jean throwing a hand out to toss their nemesis right back out of the open door. Magneto, dressed in what looked to be an expensive suit and magenta tie, held up a hand, his Fedora and wet coat on his free arm.

“I have a message for my old friend. It would be rather rude of you, Doctor Grey, to throw out a guest in his own home.”

Storm gripped Jean’s hand tightly, glaring at the aging mutant. She desperately wanted to strike at him with a lightning bolt that would shatter windows, but she moved toward the frightened children instead, herding them into the recreation room as quickly as she could. Whispering instructions to them, she placed the eldest of the small group, Artie, in charge, ensuring none of the children left the room until a teacher came to fetch them.

“Have you been telling stories about me that give the children nightmares?” Erik Lensherr asked in his velvety tones. Storm could feel his slimy gaze upon her and it turned her stomach.

“Just the truth,” Rogue shot back angrily. “You’ve caused enough trouble for all of us! First the car accident, then the train, Liberty Island, Alkali Lake…what else should we be tellin’ ‘em?”

She continued, though Jean attempted to silence her rampage. Storm kept quiet, knowing the girl had to face her demon, to let him see how he had affected a girl he had not even known.

“It’s not enough that we have tah deal with humans that hate us, but mutants too? We’re just tryin’ tah survive!”

“Rogue, come on sweetie,” Jean tried again, but Rogue wrenched her arm from the red haired telepath and marched right over to Magneto.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident,” she quoted, pride swelling inside of Storm at the words. “That all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

There was a stunned silence that followed Rogue’s shouted recitation. She glared up at Magneto, eyes filled with rage, entire body shaking with the hateful emotion.

“Can yah say that bout yourself? All yah bring is death and destruction to everyone yah touch.”

“Rogue, that’s enough.”

Turning toward the voice of the Professor, Ororo kept her position in front of the recreation room, as though standing guard. Henry appeared from the staircase, gaping in shock at the scene before him.

“Stand down, child,” the Professor ordered the seething girl gently. “Ororo, Scott, you will join Mr Lensherr and I in my office. I believe he has information we need.”

Storm moved forward, watching as Jean took Rogue gently in her arms. The Professor kept his eyes on the young woman, apparently speaking to her telepathically, perhaps explaining why he was speaking with a man she hated more than any other.

“She has spirit, doesn’t she?” Magneto said as Jean steered Rogue toward the kitchen, aided by a frantic Jubliee.

“Do not speak of her,” the Professor said sharply. “Storm?”

Scott entered the room a moment later, taking his place between the Professor and his old friend while Storm trailed after them, her ire rising with every step.

~@~

“The simple truth is, if we do not halt their advance immediately, they will attack every secret lair mutants have, including that of the self-exiled Morlocks,” Magneto said from his high-backed chair across from the Professor’s desk.

Storm looked to Scott, whom shrugged imperceptibly. Mystique was conspicuously absent, which made Ororo more than a little nervous, the two were seldom parted. They stood behind their mentor, eyes never moving from Magneto.

“How can you be sure the Friends of Humanity are plotting something of this scale?” Charles asked in his cultured tones.

Magneto smirked wickedly, looking to Storm. “I believe your elemental X-Woman has seen Mystique rather often as of late. Thrice, to be exact.”

A sick feeling of recognition washed over her. Her hand instantly dropped to the small scar concealed by Logan’s flannel shirt. She responded to Magneto’s deliberately taunting words with a massive clap of thunder that shook the walls of the mansion.

“Storm,” the Professor warned.

“Mystique almost killed her,” Scott spat in her defense.

“Yes,” Magneto agreed. “Of course, she did not realize it would take your precious Wolverine so long to locate her beneath the water. She would have been most aggrieved if Storm had perished so needlessly because of such inadequacy.”

Another clap of thunder sounded from above, this one twice as powerful as before. Ororo feared the glass of the windows would burst if she released a third, but her rage was so close to the surface it was impossible to cage. Anger at Magneto for his plotting, at Logan for leaving, and with herself for allowing her power to get out of control.

“Ororo,” Charles said again.

“Have I touched a nerve? I do apologize, my dear,” Magneto smiled at her. “I always did like you, Storm. But now you are trying my patience.”

“You tried mine when you put me in a metal tube to suit your own needs,” she shot back ominously.

For an instant, there was remorse in the eyes of her enemy. And for that instant, she remembered the man she had met so long ago. Before his friendship with Charles had been ever altered, she had known him to be a kind, gentle person. But bitterness had transformed him into an object of loathing.

“I apologize, my dear,” Magneto said quietly. “In my haste, I forgot you never managed to control your phobia.”

Slowly, Storm reined herself in, quieting the sudden thunder and converting her eyes back to their natural color. The rain continued, but for now, her wrath had been tamed.

“You never could remember the important things, Magneto,” she said acidly. “And for that I pity you.”

Silence fell between them, even as Magneto bore his eyes into hers. He gave her a once over, an eyebrow lifting as he finally noticed she was not in her usual pristine clothing and heeled boots.

“That brings up another question, why did your Brotherhood attack us at Club Goa?” Scott questioned, his jaw twitching.

“They were working on a reconnaissance mission, a few of our more boisterous marks happened to be there. I can only assume Pyro and Mystique believed you were a threat to their mission,” he supplied almost cheerfully.

“Your timing was impeccable, as always,” Storm answered.

“I was listening to the exchange via a communication device Pyro was carrying. When I realized things would escalate, I left my post several blocks over to halt the battle,” he looked to Scott. “I must say, Cyclops, your team was remarkably well trained and worked far better than the Liberty Island incident.”

“We train. Hard,” he replied icily. Storm could almost see his ruby-quartz lenses flare.

“Erik, how long has Mystique been undercover?” the Professor broke in easily.

“Since the monstrosity that was Alkali Lake,” he answered promptly. “I never did ask how you managed to escape Jason Stryker’s illusions unharmed.”

Storm lifted her chin, answering for her mentor. “A trustworthy teleporter and a vicious snowstorm.”

“Clever girl,” he murmured. “Of course, you always do manage to interrupt my work. Have you nothing better to do or is it merely a means to get under my skin?”

Ororo gasped dramatically. “You have uncovered our evil plan, annoy Magneto into surrender.”

“Oops. Foiled again,” Scott quipped, making Ororo bite back a smile.

“Enough,” Charles cut in before turning back to Magneto. “When do the Friends of Humanity plan to execute their first attack?”

“The timeframe has been narrowed down to a few weeks, when I have a specific date, I will relay it to you through Scarlet Witch, I believe your Wolverine is acquainted with her.”

“What is the target?” Storm asked stiffly, not wanting to know how Logan knew her, though she assumed it was during the club battle.

Magneto waved his hand, pulling a map, which was bound by a metallic ring, from his coat across the room. The soft hum of his magnetic fields sent a shiver of remembrance down Ororo’s spine. She curbed it quickly, attempting to control her composure.

“Here is the base where a group of young mutants have set up a relief camp, of a sort. It appears to be a refuge, hidden in the Rocky Mountains several kilometers from Denver, Colorado. How they learned of it, I cannot be sure, but Mystique tells me they intend to level the entire camp.”

Charles unrolled the map carefully, allowing Scott and Ororo to peek over his shoulder. It was a small area, heavily wooded and easily defensible.

“Why do you need us?” Cyclops asked rigidly.

“I don’t,” the mutant said with a smile. “My Brotherhood is quite capable of handling a group of militant Homo Sapiens, no matter how easily you X-Men dispatched them at the club.”

“Then why are you here?” Scott continued. “Why invade our lives this way?”

“I thought you could help with another part of the operation, your humanitarian weaknesses far outstrip my own.”

“Go on,” Charles sat back in his chair, watching his friend carefully.

“Several humans also reside in the camp, as family, lovers, sympathizers. The Friends of Humanity will kill any they come across, branding them traitors to their cause. I have no burning desire to save any of them,” Magneto said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You would let them die? For wanting to help mutants?” Storm furrowed her brow, then shook her head once, remembering whom she was speaking to. “Never mind.”

“Always a clever one, Storm,” Magneto rose, taking his coat and placing his Fedora upon his head as he moved to leave the room.

“I will keep you informed, old friend.”

“See that you do, friend,” Charles retorted with just a hint of malice.

Magneto nodded to Scott and then Storm, exiting the room with the air of a king. Storm turned to Scott, noting the pure hatred on his handsome face. She understood. During their first years, they had seen Magneto numerous times and, on some level, had cared for him very much.

When he vanished, they had all known why, but the Liberty Island fiasco had only confirmed what they had all tried desperately to deny. That Magneto, once friend, had become enemy, made more dangerous by his nearly intimate knowledge of them all.

It was as though they had been betrayed, though Magneto had never been one to conceal his true feelings. There had always been this naïve hope that he would someday realize the error in his thinking and join their fight. Now, with him firmly on the other side of a three-sloped fence, it was difficult to remember the things that could have been. Though he had joined them when his needs required, there was a grim truth they all had to face.

Someday, it would come down to survival. Magneto and his Brotherhood against Xavier and his X-Men. Only time would tell.

“Storm?”

She turned to Charles at the sound of her name, startled from her gloomy musings of the past and future, perhaps the rain really was depressing.

“Yes, Professor?”

His eyes were slightly unfocused, hinting that he was making use of his telepathic powers. She waited a moment as he continued to concentrate.

“I believe you may want to see Erik to his car,” he said at last.

“Why would she do that?” Scott asked, obviously confused.

“Because Logan has returned.”





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