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Chapter Nineteen: Partner


“Jubilee, can you tell me which civilization invented fireworks?” Ororo asked, smiling slightly to her student.

The Asian girl’s face lit up. “China?”

“Correct. The Ancient Chinese are responsible for some of the most advanced technological discoveries in the planet’s history. Open your World History books to page three-hundred and ninety-four and quietly read the chapter “Introduction to Chinese History”,” she replied, stepping around her desk to ensure the students were doing as instructed.

“China’s also responsible for making my shoes,” Warren Worthington whispered, loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Thanks, Jubi.”

Jubliee, never one to back down, threw her pencil at him in retaliation.

“That is enough, children,” Ororo broke in, taking the pencil from Warren’s desk. “One more word out of you and it will mean detention with Professor Xavier.”

“Yes, Miss Munroe,” the two said in a droning unison.

No one enjoyed the Professor’s detention’s, which usually included watching paint dry, literally, and then discussing the affects on their emotions for another hour or so. From a therapeutic standpoint, Ororo could not understand the basis of such an activity, though it decreased the number of problems in classes after Charles had given it to a few students. The threat of watching paint and then talking about it was enough to make most children behave.

The class fell into silence, broken only by an occasional sneeze or rustling as they turned a page. Ororo moved back to her desk, knowing it would take at least thirty minutes for the students to complete their assignment, giving her a small window of time to grade a few essays from her younger students.

“Does anyone mind if I open the windows?” she asked in a low tone so she would not startle them.

Most shook their heads or shrugged, giving her a sort of amused smile. It was common knowledge that Miss Munroe liked her windows open, especially in the early fall or late spring.

She unlatched the windows as quietly as she could, pushing them open to allow the warm breeze inside. Quite a few students sat back with a small sigh as the fresh air rejuvenated them, making their teacher smile into her hand.

It was close to the end of the school day and with the rain finally gone, she had no doubt the pool would be fully occupied for the remainder of daylight. Ororo would have to ensure it was guarded. Perhaps Jean or Henry would take the duty today.

Settling at her desk, Ororo took out her red ballpoint pen and a stack of essays, watching her class carefully as she marked on the various papers. Her mind had the annoying tendency to wander while she did such things and keeping thoughts of Logan from her mind was proving nearly impossible.

Everyone had heard the remarkably long argument between Rogue and Wolverine the previous evening, though he had marched her up to his bedroom to shield most from it. Ororo, while changing her clothing, had heard mentions of his emotional ineptitude and wondered if they would have to take the girl to the infirmary before long.

Bobby had come downstairs at one point, laughing himself into hysterics as he explained to the X-Men that Logan had finally become irritated with Rogue’s ongoing tirade and had tossed her into a cold shower. Ororo found it very hard not to laugh at that statement and the look on Peter’s face, which was just short of utterly scandalized.

She had not been surprised when Logan did not come down to dinner. When Rogue entered her bedroom, her books in hand, Ororo knew Logan was staying away at least one more night. A quick conversation with Rogue revealed that the girl had told him to stay away, that she, more than Ororo, needed him to be alone.

The girl had told her how hurt she’d been, finally admitting to what Ororo had suspected. Agreeing that his exile from them both was punishment enough, they had worked quietly until falling asleep on Ororo’s bed, their books and paperwork tumbling from exhausted hands.

At least there had been no nightmares last night. She did not want to wake her young charge with cries for Logan while he was under the same roof. His bedroom was only a few meters down the hall and she had no doubt he would hear her.

She had not told Rogue that her horrid dream had been of Logan, looming above her, claws extended. That she had dreamt of the adamantium ripping through her body, his anguished scream as he realized what he had done. She could see her body in his arms, sobs of loss echoing from his throat. Even then, with her death on his hands, she had wanted to reach for him, soothe the pain of such a traumatic moment.

Ororo feared she had completely lost her mind.

What kind of person wanted to comfort such tragedy in lieu of being comforted? Was this a normal behavior when you came to realize that someone else’s pain meant more than your own? Was this, truly, how it felt to love someone unconditionally?

“Miss Munroe?”

Ororo’s head came up, blinking a little at the intrusion. “Yes?”

Jubilee pointed to the windows, where ominous black clouds had begun to form. Horrified at the unexpected loss of control, Ororo inhaled deeply, shooing the dark clouds away to smile at her students.

“And that is my reaction when I read student essays,” she quipped, silently assuring the students that she would not ruin their perfect weather.

Soft chuckles sounded around her, broken by the sound of the school bell.

None of her students moved. She had taught them well that she dismissed the class and not the bell.

“Please answer all of the questions on page four-hundred and one with at least fifty words. Each,” she instructed, gathering her things. “And have a lovely afternoon.”

“Thanks, Miss Munroe!” several of them called out as the snatched up their things and bolted from her room.

Jubilee paused at the doorway, giving her a small smile. “Training in ten?”

“Oh, yes, dear. Would you remind the rest of the Gold Team?”

“Sure, Storm,” the girl replied, waving a little. “See you in the Danger Room.”

Ororo nodded, slipping her unfinished essays into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She had seven minutes to get to the Danger Room. Mentally going over her calculations, she nodded to herself. She had time to get everything she needed done by then.

Two minutes to grab a banana from the kitchen, three to drop her books and change in her bedroom, and two to get to the Danger Room. Her team would arrive one minute after that and two minutes later the training session would begin.

Ororo liked schedules, they kept her regimented and in control. Swallowing over the lump in her throat, she left the classroom to get on with her day, trying to not think about how wonderful losing control felt with Logan.


~@~

Unfortunately, the Danger Room had been taken offline by Henry and Scott, who were repairing what they called a “fused coil”. Having absolutely no idea they were talking about, Ororo contacted the Gold Team and gave them the good news that they had the evening off.

Of course, that meant Ororo wound up with pool duty as a dozen students had already set up camp there for the evening. Deciding it would be nice to go outdoors, Ororo changed into her white bikini, grabbed her towel and sunglasses, determined to have a lovely afternoon out of doors.

She had not seen Logan, save for a brief glimpse as he led his youngest students outside for their dodgeball game. He had not seen her, but her heart ached at the shadows under his eyes, hinting that he was no better off than she.

Clenching her jaw to bat away the images of Logan’s brief attack on Magneto, she walked to the pool area and searched for Jean.

The much paler woman was propped on her favorite lawn chair, chiding Bobby for splashing her. Rogue was nearby, giggling hysterically as she tiptoed into the water. Henry had designed a comfortable body stocking for her, which fit like a second skin and was nearly invisible. Tinted just a bit darker than her natural skin tone, it allowed her to wear a bathing suit without looking slightly odd.

Not that slightly odd was a problem at a school filled with mutants.

“Hey,” Jean greeted as Ororo laid her beach towel into the chair beside hers. “Long day?”

Ororo slid her glasses over her eyes as she sat, shrugging just enough for Jean to notice.

“I do believe I had better luck as a single woman,” she admitted, her tone geared for Jean’s ears alone.

Her friend pouted. “He’s back, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Changing topic,” Jean grinned, looking over her sunglasses. “Thank you for the sunshine.”

“You are welcome, dear one,” Ororo smiled faintly, sitting back in her chair to stretch her legs out. “Did I go overboard this weekend?”

“A little,” Jean nodded. “But no flooding, so that’s a plus.”

“And you, my sister? Have there been any more trips to memory lane?”

She shook her red head, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen from the small table between them. “No, thank goodness. The Professor thinks it’s lingering damage from Alkali Lake and he’s confident it will pass.”

Trying to not sound as worried as she really was, Ororo turned her head to look at her.

“I am sorry, Jean, I wish I could help.”

“You are, sweetie. Trust me.”

They sat for a few minutes in companionable silence, watching the children swim, sunbathe or splash one another in the warm sunlight. For a moment, Ororo could pull herself away from the horrors that faced these youths. Here, they could be just like everyone else, no matter their genes.

Returning to the mansion after Stryker’s attack had been shocking to her. Not a part of the defense of their home, the destruction brought her to tears. The loss of Jean had still been close to the surface, and the bullet holes, broken glass and scattered belongings had been nearly too much to bear.

Logan’s claws had destroyed the refrigerator. She had placed three fingers from each hand into them as a choked up Bobby explained how they had come to be there. Logan had done it to protect his charge.

No one knew what had been going on in Logan’s mind that night. Bobby had told her he had growled something along the lines of “Picked the wrong house, bub” to the man he had killed in the kitchen.

Did he mean because it was a school? A school for mutants, perhaps? Or simply because they had attacked what was quickly becoming his own home?

She would never be sure, but as she walked the halls, noting the damage and the slices of wall taken out by Wolverine’s claws, she had fervently wished she had been there. It was her home as well, the only true home she had ever had.

The children had taken refuge in the woods, under the careful guidance of Peter. Some had used other tunnels and were found a few days later in homes nearby or in the care of suspicious police officers. All had been recovered, much to everyone’s relief.

What would have happened had Logan not come back that evening? How many of their precious students would have been taken by Stryker? She did not want to think about that. To her, Logan’s timely arrival was a gift, something Fate had dictated in defense of the little ones.

She also suspected that it was one of the reasons Logan had come to care for the school so deeply. He had to defend it and when one defends something, there is an immediate connection to it.

Ororo had seen how the children drifted to him now, no matter his burly behavior. Many had seen him in action or at least heard the tale from those who had. He was now their hero, the X-Man who had fought for them. One against many without any hesitation. Even if he had not decided to remain among them, to fight with them, there would always be a place in their hearts for the lone wolf who had tried so desperately to save them all.

“’Ro?”

Startling from her musings, Ororo noted there was a long shadow over her. Looking up at the familiar voice, she had to clamp her teeth together to keep her jaw from falling open.

Logan stood beside her chair, in naught but a pair of long swim trunks. Happy dark glasses concealed her eyes, she felt them widen, her heart jumping from a calm thrum to pounding against her breast in the span of a millisecond.

“Hello,” she greeted when she found her voice.

Soft sighs echoed around them, making Ororo look over to the pool. Nearly every female eye was on Logan, much to the chagrin of the boys vying for their attention. Not that she could blame them. She had never seen a male that so plainly screamed “man” as Logan did. He practically oozed testosterone.

Darting her eyes toward Jean, she was not surprised to find the mouth’s mouth was slightly open, staring at the large, muscled man beside Storm over the rim of her sunglasses.

“Hey, Jean,” he acknowledged with what sounded like humor.

For some reason, that slightly triumphant look on his face made her want to stab him with his own claws. Repeatedly.

Shoving the violent thought away and chastising herself for such jealousy, she looked straight ahead of her.

“Jimmy! Come to the shallow end, please,” she called out to the boy as he attempted to sneak by her into the eight-foot depth.

“Yes, Miss Munroe,” he replied, his shoulders slumping.

She had to wrap her hands around the arm of her chair when she noted Logan and Jean were talking over her. She wanted to scream that she was the one he had nearly stabbed and broken promises to. It was all tamped carefully down so that no change in the weather betrayed her true emotions.

A trip to the training room would be a good thing.

Storm?

Please leave my head, Jean.

Are you all right?

I will not ask again.

Silence.

Both aloud and mentally, Jean fell silent. Logan looked from one to the other.

“’Ro?”

She did not respond, aware that two sets of eyes were watching her intently.

“Ororo.”

Tilting her chin upward, Ororo drew that icy calm over herself, fully aware that she was behaving like a child. The others behaved in such ways constantly, surely she was allowed to once in her many years at the school.

“Storm,” Logan’s voice was a low growl by now.

Gracefully, she slid from her chair, pulling her towel around her so that the movement did not seem enticing in any way. She did not look at either of them, keeping her haughty composure as she spoke.

“I have essays to finish grading. I am sure you will not mind helping Jean watch over the children, Logan. I will see you both at dinner.”

And with that, she slid on her flip-flop sandals and eased back into the house, not once looking back.

~@~

The sounds of her fists meeting the enormous punching bag echoed in the otherwise empty training room shortly after her display of completely adolescent behavior beside the pool.

Ororo was covered in sweat, the top of her bikini matted to her breasts as she took out her aggression without the slightest change of expression on her face. She had taken a pair of Jean’s shorts from the laundry room on her way inside, snidely thinking she would not miss them.

Fingerless gloved hands connected again and again to the sand-filled bag. The weather was still sunny outside, though her eyes stung relentlessly, the heavens waiting to open up and spill her emotional turmoil over the land below.

Of course, that would have been undignified. She wanted Logan to sit outside with Jean and think everything was just fine. He always took her moods based on the weather patterns so it was quite easy to fool him.

Jean nudged at her mentally for the eighth time in the twenty minutes she had been ensconced in the training room. Every time, Ororo blocked her, taunting her to try and break her shields. She knew Jean would never do so. It was considered a gross invasion of privacy.

“Jean this…Jean that…Please hold my manhood in your hand and drag me around like a puppy, Jean,” she thought venomously, her next punch so hard the bag swung ominously on its chain.

She loved her sister. There was no one else in the world she trusted with her most guarded secrets. Ororo would challenge the gods themselves to a duel if it meant keeping her from harm.

But that did not mean she always liked her.

Jean Grey was a classic beauty. She radiated femininity on a scale that Ororo would never be able to match. She cried out for big, strong men to protect her, drawing on the chivalry that plagued men like Scott and even Logan, to a certain extent. Not to mention, she was a natural flirt.

She was kind, gentle, and compassionate where Ororo was aloof, considered icy and unreachable because she found a confidence within herself that she refused to hide. The two women had been the sole female presence in the mansion for years before the school became less selective. In that time they had competed constantly, though Ororo had not even known for years.

Coming from a village in Kenya where she had been hailed as a goddess, Ororo had found the mansion sorely lacking at first. Jean, forever the mother, had reached to her before any of the boys. It was through her kind nature that Ororo was finally able to embrace her mutation as a mere mortal with no more divine aspirations.

And yet, when it came to things like men, they had always differed. Jean preferred the steady, dependable men that had dreams of children and homes with picket fences while Ororo’s tastes had always run a little more wildly.

When Ororo was in the torn Levi’s and tattoos phase, Jean had been planning her wedding. During Storm’s musician period, Jean learned to crochet. It was a fundamental basis in their relationship.

That is, until Ororo stopped looking for a mate entirely. The whole dating game had played havoc on the control of her powers, making it virtually impossible for her to remain in a relationship without serious risk to her position as an X-Man. Deciding that she should simply go without companionship and focus on her work, she had cut herself off completely, turning to support her more maternal friend’s relationship with Scott.

Jean had rubbed off on her over time and Ororo constantly found herself mothering everyone in the mansion. Even the Professor.

Apparently, as Ororo settled down, Jean’s rebellious years were beginning.

She did not doubt that Logan believed, perhaps even rightly, that Jean was out of his system. That did not mean that he was out of Jean’s. Whispered conversations during his month away had revealed a bit of attraction to their new friend, making Storm wish he would never return.

Now, she was in love with him and Jean still had not come to terms with her lingering draw to Logan. Ororo trusted them both, but the very idea of any woman with her eye on Logan, after she had gone through so much to find him, made her want to turn feral as well.

“I bet I know whose face is on that bag, darlin’.”

Without acknowledging him, Ororo spun, kicking the bag so hard it nearly hit her back. She turned to him calmly, hands clenched into fists.

“I am busy, Logan. Perhaps you can train another time.”

His eyebrow shot up, though he leaned carelessly against the doorway, still wearing only his blue swim trunks. She could tell he already knew something was wrong with her. In fact, there was a good deal wrong with their relationship at the moment.

“I wanted to talk to you, about Friday night,” he said more carefully.

Ororo turned to the punching bag, wiping her sweat-soaked hair from her face as she took up a ready stance.

“There is nothing to say. You needed to be alone. I forgave you the moment it happened,” she replied, hitting the bag with a series of right jabs.

“That’s not the point, ‘Ro,” Logan said with just the hint of a growl in his voice. “I did break a promise.”

“Two, if you are intent on keeping count,” she corrected.

“Fine. Two promises.”

“And then, of course, there is your complete inability to trust yourself.”

“Should I be writing this down?”

“We may as well include my inability to control myself.”

“So we’re countin’ your faults too?”

She switched positions; this time slamming a dozen left jabs into the bag, her muscles stinging with over-stimulation.

“Why should we not? This seems an excellent time to air the dirty laundry.”

“It’s your call, darlin’,” she could hear the dangerous lilt to his voice, but paid it no mind at all.

“Well, shall I go on?” Ororo grunted with the force she was using against the bag.

“Go ahead, I can’t stop ya.”

“Let me think here,” she paused, hugging the bag, keeping her emotions in check. “Ah, yes. Complete disregard for my faith in you.”

“’Ro…”

She swung at the bag. “Utter lack of trust in my ability “handle” your violent tendencies.”

“Ororo.”

“Ah, and as for me…”she kicked the bag so hard the chain snapped, sending the eighty pound piece of vinyl to the floor with a crash. She whirled on Logan.

“Inability to watch Jean drool over you not five damn feet from where I am sitting. Have you any idea how that wounds me? I do not care if nothing comes of it, it still bothers me.”

Logan’s mouth had fallen open a little. Watching him coldly, she could not understand what she had said to provoke such a reaction.

“You said “damn”,” he spoke with a sort of awe.

Completely mortified that she had cursed, she sniffed, tilting her chin up in defiance.

“Did you not say you would teach me to swear, smoke, and drink?”

“That was a joke,” he said, straightening in the doorway, finally. “The sentence ya should be rememberin’ is “Don’t you dare change”.”

Ororo tore the Velcro of her gloves, ripping them from her hands and marching to the bench where she had placed a pilfered tank top and her towel. She wiped herself down as quickly as she could, shimmying into the tank top with her back to Logan. She did not want him to think her scantily clad appearance was an invitation.

“You do real well, passin’ off as the ice queen,” he spoke coldly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there wasn’t anythin’ inside you, from watchin’ ya pull all that armor up around yourself like that.”

She grabbed at a bottle of water from the stand and twisted the top off, taking a drink quickly.

“Its one big, fat lie, isn’t it?” his voice was closer now. “You’re a hypocrite. You run away just as well as I do, you just do it inside.”

“Go away, Logan.”

“Hell, no. Not until we’ve got one thing straight here,” she heard his voice from directly behind her and moved to dart out of his reach.

Too late. As she turned, he grasped her arm and whirled her around to face him.

“There’s one thing I want an’ that’s you,” he said, dark eyes holding her gaze. “You wanna know why I reached for Jean in the first fuckin’ place?”

“No,” she answered honestly, not bothering to attempt escape. He was not hurting her and she doubted she could move fast enough anyway.

“Cause she is the first person who ever touched me with anythin’ other than pain. But I found somethin’ even better with you. I found someone that brings me peace. A touch that can reach me all the way into my black heart. That’s somethin’ Jean can’t even try to do,” he replied anyway.

“Logan…”

“I’m not done,” he fairly snarled at her.

She closed her mouth immediately.

“All I wanted was a little contact. Call me human, but I didn’t know how much I needed that until her. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth,” he continued. “There’s somethin’ different about you. I can’t breathe without it, insane as that sounds. And when I thought I coulda killed you, it almost destroyed whatever it is you woke up inside me. And that scared me more than anythin’.”

Processing such brutally honest and heartfelt words from Logan’s lips was more difficult than she could imagine. There was a long silence, his eyes on hers; filled with every emotion he hadn’t spoken of. It made her knees weak. Swallowing hard, she found some hidden strength, wanting him to understand before she lost the willpower entirely and submitted.

“May I speak now?”

He grunted with a nod.

“I do not want a protector, Logan,” she began, just as angrily as he had spoken. “I want a partner. I need to know that you trust me, not only with your heart and life but also with my own. We are teammates as well as lovers. I know you have trusted me in the past, with Rogue and with your life. This is different, my love. I want someone to stand beside me, not out in front, claws drawn and a sneer upon his lips.”

“I trust ya,” he said simply.

“Then why did you run away from me?”

He was silent for a moment, gently releasing her arms as though sure she would not walk away from him.

“I don’t ever want anyone, even me, hurtin’ you.”

“That is not going to work, Logan.”

“’Ro…”

“How can we function on a mission if you are too consumed with my welfare?”

“I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his hair.

She reached for him, taking his face in her hands and drawing it up so she could look upon him.

“Trust me,” she whispered. “Trust me to be strong enough to be your equal. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Ororo kissed his forehead gently, and then his lips, pulling away completely a moment later.

“I am going to shower before dinner. Will you be joining us this evening?”

He nodded, watching her with a strange expression on his face. “Yeah.”

“I will see you then, Logan.”

As she had before, she gathered her things and left the room, not looking back.





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