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Chapter Eighteen: Ice

It had not stopped raining.

Logan shot the ominous black clouds a dirty look as he rolled Cyclops’ motorcycle into the entrance of the driveway. He reached over, punching his security code into a panel so the seven-foot wrought iron gates, held together by a large X would open for him.

No lightning, no thunder, just that steady downpour that told him the world was crying for his Ororo. He had no doubt that her eyes were dry, though she had cried twice in his presence. She was stronger than that. She let the skies release the tears she refused to shed. Her outlet for any pain.

He knew he was in for the lecture of all lectures, from at least three different people when he set foot in the house. First Rogue, and he was not looking forward to what she had to say. Then Jean, which would no doubt include all manner of details regarding what had happened when he “ran away”. And the third from either Chuck or Scott. Neither option was favorable.

For some reason, he expected Ororo to just watch it all, not saying a word to him.

Logan shook his head as the gates creaked open, joined by a massive clap of thunder that had his ears ringing. He paused, staring at the house, which was little more than a blur through the rain. Why had he come back?

At first, he had only wanted to get away from Ororo, before the accusations began. He already knew who was at fault and he hated himself with everything in him. Hopping onto One-Eye’s bike and hauling it into the night dressed in nothing but his jeans had probably not been one of his better ideas, but at the time it was the best he could think of. He had hurt her, physically and then emotionally and he knew it.

That look in her eyes when he finally realized what was happening had nearly killed him. All the forgiveness, while his claws were buried into her bed, close enough to make her bleed and all she could do was try to soothe him. He was beginning to have doubts as to her sanity at that point.

Ororo’s voice haunted him, her plea for him to wake. He had not recognized her soft touch at first, nor her beautiful face and snow-white hair. She had been his enemy, keeping him from the light he so desperately wanted to drown in.

The nightmare, unlike so many others, he remembered with sharp clarity. A long dark tunnel, whispering voices filled with malice surrounding him, the fading light that seemed so far from him no matter how hard he ran.

Then a shift and he was running toward Storm, her screams of terror echoing within his mind, her body trapped beneath two tons of stone rubble. He tried to free her from the crashing walls, but every time he could see her, face twisted into a grimace of fear, more dusty stone would fall from the sky, keeping him from rescuing her.

No matter how hard he tried, his dreams continued to keep him from the light, from Ororo. Flashes of memories fueled his enraging dreams. The night he had nearly lost Rogue on Liberty Island coupled with that first meeting, when she shouted a warning to him in that dingy bar in Laughlin City.

Storm in Chuck’s office, giving him that quiet smile and appraising look as they were introduced, her body falling into the dark waters, dying in his arms as he howled with soul-shattering sorrow.

And then Rogue and Ororo stood above him, flanked by Jean and One-Eye and even Hank and Chuck, all telling him how he had failed, how he would never be a part of their family.

That swirled in with images of Magneto harming Storm, her screams, the dying of the light…and he woke swinging. As he had feared for the last two months, he had harmed her because of his lack of control. His Ororo, the woman whose touch seemed to heal wounds he had not known he possessed, lay bleeding at his hands.

He could not shake the image from his mind, not even parked in another secluded location he had discovered months before, letting the rain soak him to the bone. The smell of her fear, the understanding in her eyes, her healing touch…her blood seeping into the soft blue sheets he had lain on nearly every night.

Logan had remained in that same spot for nearly two days, thinking, and at times, drawing his claws to scream into the night, face turned up to the sorrow in her storm as he ruthlessly tore at the nearby trees and rock. She had paid for his bezerker rage. The only woman to freely give him comfort without agenda or demands in return. He had hurt her.

He set the bike in motion as an even louder crack of thunder sounded from above. Hair stood at attention all over his body. One thing he knew as well as his own nose was the weather and the mutant whom controlled it. Something was happening with Ororo. She was pissed off at someone.

Slowing the bike to a nearly silent purr, Logan pulled it into the driveway, noting the storm clouds seemed to be lessening above him, though the rain increased. Something was very wrong here.

A sleek black BMW was parked behind Storm’s white Mini-Coupe. Pulling the bike to a halt, Logan cut the engine and swung from the seat, crouching low to the ground and testing the air.

It was futile. Storm’s rain had masked any lingering scents. He would just have to figure it out once he was inside.

He crept toward the garage door, slipping inside the humid carport and marching toward the door that would lead him into the mansion. He opened it carefully, stepping inside, concentrating on his sense of smell and hearing. Unable to detect anything right away, he entered, bare feet leaving soggy prints all over Chuck’s precious Persian.

A meter or so into the hall, he smelled the scent of fear and almost instantly the whispered voices of children reached his ears from the recreation room. Starting over at a jog, he drew his claws back into his flesh. Not entirely sure what was happening, he pressed his ear to the door.

“Should we go look for someone?”

“No, Miss Munroe told us to stay here until a teacher came.”

“I’m worried, though, Artie. I wish Mr Logan was here.”

“Yeah, remember when the soldiers came? I hate it when he leaves.”

“I know, doesn’t feel safe.”

A whimper.

“I wish Miss Munroe would come back.”

At that, Logan unhinged the latch on the Rec Room door, opening it a little so the kids could see him before pushing it enough to step inside. Half a dozen young mutants looked up from a small circle in the corner of the room, fear on their faces until they realized who had come to them. As one, they stood and bolted toward him.

“Mr Logan!” Artie reached him first, launching himself into Logan’s arms.

He held him close, patting his back roughly as the others gathered as well, coming as close as they dared, as if drawing strength from his mere presence.

…that creature in your arms?

I’ll take my chances with him.

The memory of holding young Artie as he faced Stryker for the final time rushed back to him and a fierce protectiveness washed over him. He turned to the others, putting Artie back on the floor and ruffling a girl named Jasmine’s hair kindly. She smiled warmly.

A loud click echoed within him.

This was where he belonged. Not only as a teacher, as an X-Man, but as the protector of the things he believed in. Right here, under this vaulted ceiling was everything in the world he could remember caring about, believing in. The school, Chuck and his dream, Rogue, Ororo, Jean, the other X-Men….and the kids. A strong paternal instinct he had not known he possessed was fleshed out here, taking the forefront of his mind.

He belonged here. Simple as that. Now he knew exactly what Ororo had been talking about that day in Scott’s class. He’d finally found it.

“Hey, you guys ok?” he asked, looking into each face, which had changed from fear to a sort of hero worship.

They all nodded, then, as one spoke at once. Logan’s heightened hearing buzzed with the sudden rise in noise level. He covered one ear with his hand.

“Ok, hang on, hang on!” he held up his free hand, pointing to Artie. “You’re spokesman, what’s goin’ on?”

Artie inhaled deeply, as though trying to get a hold of himself before speaking.

“We were watching a movie and the door popped open. When we looked up, we saw Magneto!” he said in a rush. “I called for Doctor Grey and then Miss Munroe came in and then Rogue started screaming at Magneto and then Miss Munroe put us in here and then she told us not to come out and then everything got real quiet and we didn’t know what happened and we wanted to go see where everyone was, but Miss Munroe said not to come out unless a teacher said we could.”

“Whoa,” Logan blinked at the steady stream of consciousness that came from the amphibian-tongued boy in a single breath. “Back up. Magneto was here?”

Artie nodded emphatically. “I didn’t hear him leave though. I guess he’s still in the Professor’s office.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists. Magneto. Here. He turned, as though the man were behind him, holding his claws inside by the fingertips of his control. First things first. Get kids to someone he knew he could trust. Whip up a batch of Magneto-in-a-can next.

He turned to the security panel, startling when Jasmine grabbed at his hand. Logan turned to her, pulling her tiny body into his arms. She was petite for her age, weighing less than thirty pounds. Her mutation was to blame. She could stretch herself almost limitlessly and her metabolism was so fast she had to eat eight times a day just to stay healthy.

Settling the trembling girl on his hip, Logan activated the security panel on the wall, flipping through the various images. Hank was in the lower levels with some of the middle school aged and high school kids. Bobby had the others in the teacher’s hallway upstairs with Peter, and the rest of the little ones were with Jean, Jubilee and Rogue in the kitchen. Logan flipped a button, activating the comm. system that wove through the entire mansion.

“Jean?”

He watched her move up to the panel, staring in surprise at his image. And possibly the fact that he had little Jasmine clinging to him like a life raft.

“I’m bringing the kids Storm put in the Rec Room to the kitchen.”

“Ok,” she nodded. “I didn’t want to risk them seeing Magneto again. He tends to make them nervous.”

“That’s puttin’ it mildly. We’re comin’ now,” he clicked the comm. link off, reaching for Artie’s hand.

“Come on, guys, lets get you out of here.”

He looked over his shoulder to ensure the other four were behind him. They crowded him, looking around nervously. Jimmy seemed to be glowing, an indication that his electrostatic field was up. He was afraid.

“I’m here, Jim,” Logan said roughly, leading them the few meters to the kitchen. “Come on, bud.”

Jean opened the doorway of the kitchen as they appeared, scooping Jimmy into her arms quickly. The little boy clung to his teacher as Jasmine did to Logan. It brought a rage to him, seeing one man invoke such a fear in children who had the rest of the world to worry about as well. That bastard.

“Where’s Magneto?” he demanded, settling the kids at the table.

“In the Professor’s office,” Rogue replied, glaring daggers at him as she took Jasmine. “Jean wanted tah blast him right back out the door, but he said he had a message.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Logan. The Professor is blocking me,” Jean finished, stroking Jimmy’s hair and squeezing Artie’s hand.

“Where’s Cyclops and Storm?”

“With the Professor,” Jubilee supplied taking Oscar into her arms and smiling at the twins across the table from her.

“Will you be ok here with the kids?” he asked, looking around to ensure they were all being comforted as they needed.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, Logan,” Jean tried to soothe him.

He glared at her. She stared back.

“Yes, we’ll be fine,” she said at last. “Please don’t break anything.”

“Just Magneto,” Artie said under his breath, making Logan smirk.

“You got it, kid,” Logan turned toward the kitchen door, stomping into the living room, nose alert.

“Come on, bub, lets see what you got,” he growled, sniffing the air for a trace of Magneto’s scent.

As though hearing him, Logan spotted Magneto in the hall, striding for the front door like he had not a care in the world. Snarling as quietly as he could, Logan crept up behind him, ready to pounce the moment he had a clear shot at the bastard’s black heart.

He paused, as though sensing he was being hunted, then shook his head, opening the door and pulling his coat on as he stepped out of the house.

Logan followed, hearing him mutter something under his breath. He concentrated, wanting to hear exactly what the slimy bastard was saying.

“…you’d think that girl had control of her gift…damnable rain…”

Snikt!

Snarling again that Magneto dare mention Storm, Logan launched himself from the crouch at the doorway. The mutant turned, shock apparent on his lined face. Wolverine watched a single hand rise and flipped himself in mid-air, turning to avoid Magneto’s magnetic field.

“Logan!”

Ororo.

He kept his eyes from her, darting past Magneto again, feeling the mental tug that told him Chuck or Jean was trying to get through to him. He shut it all out, concentrating on the hatred he felt for his prey, the pain he had caused to all those he held above the world. Logan did not fight for the world, only those brave enough to extend their hands to him in friendship.

Wolverine continued to dart around Magneto, always a split second away from his metallic prowess. Commotion came from the direction of the mansion doorway and for an instant, he smelled fear superimposed on Magneto’s scent of a struck flint.

A low crackle was all the warning he received.

Blinding electric sparks flew to his eyes, making him howl with fury. He swung, his claws protruding from his hands, but met nothing, save rain-saturated air.

Two agile legs wrapped around his neck before he could regain use of his eyes. Flowers. Rogue. Damn her.

He felt himself yanked forward by his teammate’s bodyweight, flipping over and falling onto his back with a wet splash, mud covering his bare back. When he attempted to jump up, he found both arms grasped by a cold set of hands he knew all too well.

“Calm yourself, Wolverine,” Colossus said in a low tone. “I do not wish to harm you.”

Logan heard a car start behind him, pulling quickly out of the drive. He roared, only to have Colossus release one of his hands. Before Logan could lash out, a steel fist slammed into his face with enough force to knock out a grown man for a week.

Of course, it merely stunned him. By the time he could shake the dizziness, his broken jaw was already stitching itself back together and Colossus was shaking his head sadly at him. One thing he always liked about Colossus was his dedication to those he cared about. He obviously had not enjoyed subduing Wolverine.

“Release him,” Storm’s command brought the rage down, leaving Logan to blink up into the lessening rain.

Rogue, Jubilee, and Colossus all jumped out of his way. Wolverine snapped to his feet, crouching low and glaring hatefully at the assembled X-Men in the lawn. Scott gave him a nod, as though saying he approved, but the Gold Team was poised for action.

“Gonna take me down again?” he growled, willing his claws to remain hidden.

“If we have to, Wolvie,” Jubilee said frankly. “I’d rather not though.”

“Why did you stop me?”

“Because I ordered them to, Wolverine,” Storm replied from her place beside Colossus, her eyes stark white.

“You shoulda let me turn him into shreds!”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because we have bigger fish to fry,” she responded, echoing a common phrase of his. “Are you going to behave or shall I pulse a million megawatts of raw electricity into your adamantium skeleton?”

Unable to believe his soft, sweet Ororo had just threatened to electrocute him, he blinked. No, he was wrong. Ororo had not done it, Storm had. She was as defined by her codename a he was. She was the leader of his team and he had willingly submitted to her command before.

That knowledge did not stop him from snarling at her again.

“I don’t behave, Storm. But I’m goin’ inside for a beer,” he marched right past her, giving the entire group a feral glare as he stomped into the mansion.

Mind spinning with thoughts of Magneto, Ororo, and his own baser instincts that drove him to anger every time something did not make sense to him, he barely heard Rogue call his name before he could get very far into the house.

Ignoring the stern look he received from Chuck, whom was waiting in the hall, he whipped around.

“What?”

“If yah think yah escaped hearin’ what Ah have tah say bout your little weekend getaway, yah’ve got another thin’ comin’, Logan. Sit. Down.”

~@~


Two hours later, Rogue was still in his bedroom, raging at him.

Her lovely, youthful face was flushed bright red with anger, her still-rain damp hair sticking up in odd directions. She paced in front of him, never stopping for breath, never repeating herself and swearing in what he thought was three different languages: English, Russian, and German.

How she’d picked up the last two, he was unsure. The only Russian they lived with rarely spoke, and the German was in Germany…and a priest to boot. But on and on she went, giving him several pieces of her mind at the top of her voice.

Logan sat on his bed, still in the same jeans he had donned Friday night as the sun set behind him, casting a rather interesting glow on Rogue’s face as she pointed her finger at him to emphasize her heated words.

She was the only person he had ever met that he would allow to yell at him this way. Anger was not an option when it came to Rogue. He sat, quietly as he could, and just stared in a sort of shocked admiration as she told him exactly what he could do with his “running away from problems” attitude about the world.

And then she started on Ororo.

If he had thought he’d seen wrath during her “You broke a promise” speech, it was nothing compared to her fury when she began the “How could you leave ‘Roro like that” tirade.

Hell, he had to admit he was impressed. When Rogue started screaming, she did it with flair.

A long laundry list of his emotional shortcomings spilled from Rogue’s lips while she ticked them off on her fingers. Bad attitude, overdeveloped sense of guilt, underdeveloped sense of trust, inability believe in himself…the list went on and on.

He had not known Rogue was so close to Storm, but apparently he’d missed the meeting that declared Ororo “Closer than mah own flesh and blood aunt!”.

His young friend recounted the events of the last two days, the steady rain and Ororo’s withdrawal from everyone in the mansion, save her. She had heard about the nightmare and rolled her eyes when he tried to defend himself.

“I could have killed her, Rogue!”

“Yeah, but yah didn’t. That’s the point yah seem tah be missin’ here.”

And on it went.

This wasn’t a lecture. This was a reprimand, plain and simple. He doubted a million lectures from Chuck and Jean could have accomplished what Rogue had done in the space of two hours. Every emotion was a direct result of her words, the flashes of rage in her eyes, and the way she carried herself, as though confident she was right.

He knew it had been a poor judgment call to race off on Scott’s motorcycle, breaking not one but two promises to the woman he’d shared his life with over the last months. At the time, however, he had felt nothing but the horror of harming her in any way, when all he ever wanted to do was protect her.

Bringing that point up had just garnered him another slew of curses in mixed languages.

“All right,” he said standing and holding his hands up. “That’s enough.”

She glared at him, the sound of her teeth grinding was audible.

“No, it’s not. Ah still can’t believe this, Logan. Yah ran out her, on me, on everyone in this school because of a nightmare.”

“Look, I’m sorry about that, but I needed some time alone, damnit!” he shouted back at her.

“Ah don’t care! You’ve been alone too damn long! When people care about yah, yah don’t just run off. Yah talk it out, like everyone else.”

“I sliced her open, Rogue!”

“The goddamn scratches have already healed, moron!”

That did it.

Logan moved faster than she could counter him and flung open the door to the bathroom he shared with Peter. Rogue screeched at him as he tossed her over his shoulder, her fists pounding him in the back as she demanded to be let down.

Reaching into the bathtub, Logan turned the shower on, as cold as he could get it and then unceremoniously dumped Rogue’s fully clothed body under the icy spray.

“LOGAN!”

Her scream of shock made his ears hurt. The door leading into Peter’s room flew open, Bobby rushing in to see what his girl was screaming about, Colossus right on his heels.

Snikt!

“Find somewhere else to be, Ice-Boy.”

Seeing Rogue was not harmed, though she coughed and sputtered in the freezing bathtub, trying to catch her breath, Bobby turned on his heel and left the bathroom, taking a shocked Peter out with him.

Turning back to Rogue, Logan glared at her, retracting his claws with a muffled snikt.

“Done?”

“Ah can’t believe you!” she attempted to scramble out of the tub, only to have Logan hold her down, reaching up to turn the spray of water directly onto her.

“Are you done?” he roared over the sound of her squealing.

“YES!” she finally acquiesced.

Logan turned the nozzle away from her, reaching over to turn the hot water tap gradually, as to not shock her system with the change in temperature.

He sat back against the cupboard under the sink, drawing his knees up and resting his arms across them, dropping his head against the cool wood. Rogue’s shivering slowly subsided, her teeth continuing to chatter in the relative silence.

“Ah’m sorry,” she gasped between her clinking teeth. “Ah don’t know what came over me.”

Logan gave her a small smile. “I do. You care about her, about me, and you wanted me to know how badly I hurt you both.”

Still shivering, she nodded. “Yeah, Ah don’t know why Ah care bout yah sometimes.”

He chuckled. “Neither do I, kid.”

Silence fell between them again. He could feel her eyes on him, as though waiting for some kind of explanation. He raised a brow, only to have her return the familiar gesture. Shaking his head at her, he sighed, scratching his knee absently.

“She was afraid, not that I blame her,” he stared at his hands intently, Rogue’s trembling image blurring as he concentrated. “When I realized what was happenin’, I looked at her, my claws were stuck in her bed, so close I could feel her breathin’…and all I could see in her eyes was this,” he paused, trying to find the right word.

“Forgiveness?” Rogue offered.

“Yeah,” he said softly, still staring at his hands. “She said I almost stabbed her in the heart. How could she forgive that?”

“Yah stabbed me in the chest an’ Ah forgave yah,” his friend reminded him quietly.

“Yeah, but you absorbed my regeneration. That’s always an option between us, but Storm? She’d be dead.”

“True,” Rogue agreed. “But she told me that yah knew her. Yah moved your hand.”

“What if I hadn’t?”

“Logan,” she said kindly. “Yah love her. Ah don’t think yah could actually, really, hurt her like that.”

“I hurt you,” he focused his eyes on her, surprised he did not try to deny the fact that he loved Ororo.

She waved him off. “Come on, Logan. Yah’d just spent fifteen years all alone. Yah had no idea that someone was even in the room.”

He shook his head. “Still…”

“No,” Rogue said sharply. “Yah doin’ it again. Yah can’t open up all of the sudden an’ then close it off again. It’s not right.”

Logan gave her a half-smile. “You’re so smart, you tell me what to do.”

Rogue leaned over the edge of his tub, her shivering finally vanishing as she warmed up from his drastic measures.

“Give her another night alone,” she said seriously. “Talk tah her tomorrow, after school.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

“Yah. Ah’ll stay with her tonight.”

A small alarm bell went off in Logan’s head and he pulled his head up from the cupboard door. “Why?”

Rogue instantly looked away and he knew she had let something slip that she had not intended.

“Rogue?”

“Ah promised,” she said, attempting to dig herself out of her hole.

“Tell me.”

“She had a nightmare last night. She made me promise not tah tell you,” she admitted finally.

“About what?”

“Ah don’t know, but she woke up askin’ for yah,” she winced, as if knowing that bit of information was going to hurt him.

And it did, like Colossus had punched him in the gut. Ororo’d had a nightmare and she woke, as she always did, reaching for him. But for the first time in two months, he’d not been there to comfort her.

“I am an asshole,” he growled, banging his head against the cupboard.

“Yeah, yah are,” Rogue agreed. “But leave her tah me tonight, all right? I’ll take care of her.”

He looked at her, pain still making it difficult to breathe as he imagined his lover waking alone, her trembling body aching for someone to soothe the hurt and finding only the tender arms of a young woman, not her lover.

“Promise?”

Rogue gave him a familiar half-smirk. “Yeah, Ah promise.”





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