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Chapter Twenty-One: Happy Birthday, Miss Munroe


Something was tickling her face.

Flinching, Ororo attempted to roll over, away from that tingling, feather-soft touch. She was having the most wonderful dream. Jean and Scott were getting married, at last, and Ororo danced with Logan at the wedding, the other X-Men looking on with tears in their eyes.

A soft male chuckle reached her ears and she regretfully came fully into the real world, not wanting to open her eyes.

“Logan?” she murmured sleepily, that tickling sensation ran down her arm and over her bare belly.

“Happy birthday,” the unmistakable voice replied, his warm breath on her ear.

Humming happily, Ororo turned closer to him, batting her heavy eyelids until they remained open. Her vision fought to focus for a moment. Logan was above her, his fingertips dancing over her skin.

“Thank you,” she leaned up for a kiss.

“How old is my girl today, eh? 21?” he grinned at her, kissing her lips.

Ororo laughed against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and threading her legs with his. The blankets were trapped between them, but she paid it no mind. For once, it was not going to rain on her birthday.

“Hardly,” she answered him. “It is not polite to ask a lady her age, you know.”

“Now, darlin’, when have I ever been polite?”

“Hrmm. There you have a point, my love,” she kissed him once more, still quickly, tentatively as the last traces of sleep flew from her body.

“I’ve got somethin’ for ya,” Logan said suddenly, shifting a little on her bed.

She raised a brow. “Either that is a very loaded statement, Logan, or you have forgotten that my gift decided to sleep on the balcony?”

The grin she received was almost impish, even on his rugged face. He turned from her and a moment later she heard the rustle of a plastic bag, followed by a grunt from her lover, most likely due to the way he was bent over her bed.

“Have you been hiding things in my room, Logan?” Ororo asked, stretching out languidly.

“Actually, I snuck out and grabbed it out of One-Eye’s car this mornin’, along with Tunza’s shit.”

Yawning, Ororo hit him gently as reprimand for swearing, although it was more affectionate than anything recently. She did not mind his swearing, though he had curbed his language around her, but she felt she had to react, if not on principle, then because it made him laugh.

“There it is,” Logan muttered, turning his bare chest back to her, a small rectangular box in his hands. “Don’t get excited, it’s not a ring.”

Exhaling sharply with relief, Ororo watched him place the box on her navel, smirking at her all the while.

“Scared ya, didn’t I?”

“You have no idea,” she agreed, winking at him. “May I?”

“Well, yeah, it’s yours,” Logan gave her that look she loved.

The look that told her she was being silly or childlike and he didn’t know quite what to make of it. She had moments of naivety, mostly because Western Culture continued to baffle her. Curiosity had ever been her companion, but as she grew older, she felt she understood less and less about people. And Logan was not just another person.

With a smile of thanks, Ororo took the white velvet box in her hands and gently pushed open the top. Smile faded to a mouth agape look of shock as she lovingly touched the tiny gold pendant upon a delicate chain.

“Logan…”

“Slim and I walked by a jewelry store in the mini-mall last night, I had to get it,” he explained. “I think your birthday bankrupted him.”

Not bothering to chide him for his behavior, Ororo took the pendant from the box, inspecting it closely with her fingers. The tiny lightning bolt was roughly an inch long. It was simple, without any other adornments. Exactly something she would have purchased for herself.

“Do you like it?” he asked, peering at her curiously.

“Yes,” she replied immediately. “Logan, it’s lovely.”

He gave her a smile that made her heart lurch. “Turn around.”

She sat up quickly, turning her back to him and lifting her hair as he took the necklace from her. Logan fought a moment with the delicate clasp before placing the chain about her neck and fastening it.

A soft kiss brushed the nape of her neck and she sighed, closing her eyes. Large, warm arms encircled her quickly, pulling her into his lap as he dropped his chin onto her shoulder.

Sitting in silence like this was one of the things Ororo loved about Logan. While he often portrayed himself as a womanizer, a brash and brutal animal that cared for nothing and no one, she had been pleasantly surprised to find quite to opposite.

Logan’s brashness came not because he felt nothing, but as a reaction to feeling too much. Ororo had been privy to at least some parts of him, the facets of his personality that thrived on intimacy on a level that ranged far beyond the sexual spectrum. While he did enjoy sex, quite often as Ororo had learned, Logan’s true nature was revealed in the moments such as these.

Slowing her breathing to a meditative rhythm, she took his hands, sitting with her back straight and placing them on her abdomen, just over her diaphragm. Almost instinctively, Logan’s breathing matched hers, slipping into a steady thrum that matched the sedate beating of their hearts.

It was one of the tricks she learned for keeping Logan calm, giving him silence he preferred while assuring him that he was cared for. A basic human need to want contact, to want to feel needed and beloved could be found in the warm heart of this otherwise feral man.

With every beat of her heart, she could feel the energy between them building, her body chanting three words she could not speak. In return, she felt the exact same energy from Logan, her skin seeming to soak it up, carrying it to the depths of her soul.

Yes, Logan was animalistic, rude, brash and all the other things everyone thought of him, but he was also filled in infinite tenderness she knew to the bottom of her heart.

“I love it when you do that,” he whispered in a heavy monotone that said he was nearly trancelike.

“What does it give you?” she replied just as flatly.

“Peace,” he inhaled deeply.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Peace.”

~@~


Ororo’s day had been one of the best that she could remember. Jean and Scott had caught her taking Tunza for his morning walk before classes, giving her several volumes of African poetry for her birthday. Jean had eyed the Mastiff puppy Ororo carried warily, though she assured Ororo she had received her medications from Henry to ward off any ill effects.

Henry had left his gift her in classroom before he headed off to his classes. He had stopped to give her well wishes and a kiss upon the cheek, commenting on her necklace with a sweet grin. His gift had been an expensive box of Italian chocolates, which she was instructed to share with no one.

Her students had all wished her a happy birthday, obviously expecting to be given slack from classes due to her “special day”. Ororo did indeed cut their assignment just slightly in celebration of her good mood.

Shortly before the end of her third class, a floral deliveryman knocked on the classroom door, an enormous bouquet of purple and white lilies in his hands.

“I’m looking for an…Oro Munroe?” he stammered.

The children giggled, but Ororo silenced them quickly, she was quite used to her name being mispronounced.

“I am Ororo Munroe,” she moved through the classroom to the door.

“Sorry about that, interesting name…anywho,” he asked her to sign his list, handing her the delicately blown glass vase. “For you, then.”

“Thank you,” she murmured as he exited the room.

“Who are those from, Miss Munroe?” Jubilee asked with a broad grin.

“I do not know, Jubilee…”

The door opened again. “Sorry! Forgot this.”

The deliveryman handed a small package wrapped in plain brown paper to a student. Jessica followed Ororo to her desk as she placed the flowers down, searching for the card. She had never received flowers in such a way. Usually, if she received them at all, they were freshly picked by Jean from her garden and placed in her room after she’d had a bad day.

“Back to work,” she ordered her class, thanking Jessie for bringing the package to her as she located the card.

Just one more way to say, I’m glad you were born.

Logan

Smiling to herself at the absolutely perfect choice of words, Ororo shot a look to her class, most of whom were smirking knowingly. It was the bane of living in a small society. Everyone knew everything about everyone.

They eventually went back to their work, leaving Ororo to gaze at the lovely arrangement. Little wisps of fresh green leaves and baby’s breath surrounded the purple and white flowers. Normally, she was not the type to swoon over romantic gestures, but this was one more way Logan proved himself to be full of surprises.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she knew he was watching her. Turning slowly to the doors of her classroom, she caught a glimpse of dark brown eyes, the corners wrinkled together. Without seeing the rest of his face, she knew he was smiling.

Sitting at her desk, she took the soft brown package in her hands, watching Logan watch her out of the corner of her eye. She unwrapped the gift slowly, wondering what on earth he had done this time.

Four pairs of light blue slipper-socks tumbled into her hands. Ororo almost broke into a laugh, covering her mouth with a hand to hide it from the children. She turned to look for Logan’s eyes, not surprised when he winked before vanishing quickly.

Shaking her head, she hid the socks in her desk drawer and tried, in vain, to go back to work.

~@~

“Ah, there you are my dear child. It seems there are many vying for your attention today, have you time for an old man?”

Ororo turned from her perch on the porch steps, tossing the ball Logan had purchased for Tunza and attempting to make the exuberant puppy chase after it. Charles approached her from the wide doorway, his wheelchair buzzing until he came to a stop.

“Of course, Charles,” she smiled warmly up at him. “I apologize for all of the fuss.”

“At times, it is good to have a fuss made over you,” he searched her face. “And I daresay you are glowing, Ororo.”

Ducking her head to hide a blush, Ororo watched her puppy sniff at Charles, as though trying to decipher whether he was friend or foe.

“I finally have a chance to lay my own eyes on the new member of the household. He has been the talk of the children since this morning,” her mentor said fondly, reaching down to beckon the puppy closer.

“It has been some time since we had an animal here at the mansion, has it not?” Ororo questioned as Tunza approached Charles.

“Indeed,” he replied when the pup reached him. “He does have intelligent eyes. It is no wonder he was selected as your “protector”.”

“Do you always know everything, Charles?” she asked, reaching out to pet Tunza.

“It is my job, my dear,” his blue eyes met hers. “I must say you have never seemed quite this at peace, without nearly tangible control of your gifts.”

“Perhaps it is because I have balance with peace.”

He gave her a fatherly smile. “Yes, it would seem so. Had I known Logan would have this effect on you, I would have located him much sooner.”

“Charles,” she chided, biting back a smile.

“I do not like to meddle in your personal affairs, you know that, Ororo, but I fear I must say that while I would not have guessed he would be a good match for you, Fate seems to think otherwise. For that, I am grateful beyond words,” Charles said in that soft manner he reserved for private moments.

Ororo felt her heart constrict with the emotion in his words. He had become closer to her than any other father figure in the span of her life, bringing her into a new world that gave her purpose and meaning. She owed him more than she could ever hope to repay and as the years went on, she found he continued to give to all of his X-Men.

“Thank you, Charles,” she replied at last. “But does Tunza not have your blessing as well?”

“Only if he remains out of my office,” he quipped, making her laugh.

She saw a shadow pass over his eyes and reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers gently. He had many regrets in his life and most of them stemmed from his dream, fear of pushing the people he loved too far too quickly.

“Charles, you have given us all new lives. If you need any further reminders of the good you have done, look no further than this former goddess, turned thief, and finally schoolteacher.”

Knowing he would not reply, she took her hand away, scooping up Tunza and snapping her fingers.

“Go find Logan and get your supper, precious,” she held up her shirt to the puppy’s snout, not at all surprised when he licked her chin before she released him.

Charles watched the Mastiff bolt back into the house, nose to the ground as he searched for Logan. A wistful smile played about his lips as Ororo wiped the canine saliva from her face.

“I have something for you, Ororo, in honor of your birthday,” he said suddenly, reaching into his pocket.

“Charles, you need not…”

“Have I ever missed your birthday? Or are you merely overwhelmed with the love everyone in this mansion has finally decided to show you this year?” he raised a brow, revealing a small cardboard box from his pocket.

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “No, you never have. Not since my sixteenth year when you learned the specific date.”

“It may seem strange, Ororo, but what you have experienced today is what many have all of their lives. I suggest you become acquainted with this breed of devotion. Logan does not seem to let anything he cares for get away from him easily,” Charles handed her the box, covering her hand with his for a moment.

Silently pondering his words, she opened the box carefully, pulling a tiny black statue of a woman with flowing hair and red tribal robes from the bubble wrap.

“I had it carved for you several weeks ago,” he explained when her eyes went wide. “I trust it is an accurate depiction.”

“Mother…” she whispered, lovingly touching the five-inch tall statue.

“N’Dare Munroe, carved from the single file photograph we have of her,” Charles nodded. “With all your blessings this year, I thought you would like to have another goddess to add to your ever-growing collection.”

Tears filled Ororo’s eyes, but she blinked them back, along with the telltale sting that would herald a rainstorm. If it began to rain now, Logan would be outside in an instant, wondering what had upset her.

“No tears, my child,” Charles said quietly. “Do not allow lingering grief to consume you.”

Ororo scooted until she could kneel beside him. She embraced him warmly, kissing his hairless head when she pulled away. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.”

Before she could reply, Jean stepped onto the porch, smiling at them both.

“Did you give it to her?” she asked with a sky smirk.

“Oh, yes, and for a moment I feared for our lovely evening,” the Professor said.

“Quiet, the both of you,” Ororo shot back, holding her hand out so Jean could help her stand.

Showing her friend the statue, she felt her heart twist again. She had been entirely unfair to Jean the previous day and as she had with Logan, there was dirty laundry that needed airing. Soon.

“Professor,” Jean said after admiring the sculpture of N’Dare. “Jeffrey and Kayla had a bit of an altercation in the Rec Room. There are scorch marks and slime all over the ping pong table, but neither of them will speak to me about it.”

The older man sighed, shaking his head. “All right, I will speak with them. He seems to be adjusting slowly. I fear his experiences in Chicago affected him more than he is letting on.”

Water. Pain. Logan.

“Ororo?”

She blinked, suddenly aware that she had faded away for a moment. Looking down, she watched Jean motion with her hands, bringing the dropped sculpture of N’Dare to her. Ororo had released it at some point, nearly destroying her lovely gift.

“Are you all right, child?” Charles asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Yes. I suppose the memories of Chicago affect us all,” she replied, swallowing hard.

Jean laid a hand on her arm, green eyes afire with concern. Ororo, shoving back any animosity that arose from the day before, smiled as best she could.

“Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”

“Perhaps later. For now, I am going to…”

“Phone call for Miss Munroe!” Bobby shouted from the kitchen.

Smiling her apologies, Ororo slid past them, happy for the escape and darted into the kitchen. To her surprise, Logan was sitting at the table beside Bobby, holding the corded phone over his head.

Ororo took the phone, placing the receiver to her ear as she passed the table, squeaking when Logan swatted her backside.

“Miss Munroe,” she spoke, giving him a playful glare. Bobby had his hands over his ears, eyes closed tight and began singing “Yellow Submarine” at the top of his voice.

Logan knocked him on the head to make him stop.

“Storm?”

“Yes? Who is this?” she replied to the unfamiliar male voice.

“We’re watching you, pretty lady,” he said in a singsong tone. “I did like the flowers, nice touch from your man. Think he’ll put pretty purple lilies on your gravestone?”

Shaking from head to toe, Ororo kept her voice flat. “Who is this?”

Logan stood up.

“He’ll probably bury you wearing those cute blue socks too, eh? Maybe he’d wear the lightning bolt necklace? Yeah, I’ll bet he’s the sentimental type…”

“Ororo, hang up the phone,” Logan growled.

“I’ll bet those claws of his will come out any second now. Yeah, he’ll be looking for us, but we’ll get to you first.”

Hand gripping the phone, Ororo turned suddenly, flipping on the tracing equipment before replying.

“He will be the least of your problems when I locate you,” she spat acidly.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Storm, mistress of the elements. You won’t even see us coming…”

“Hang up the phone!”

“Why don’t you give that animal of yours a message…tell him no matter what he does, no matter how hard he looks, he’ll be putting those lilies on your grave very soon.”

The dial tone echoed through the receiver.

Ororo looked to the tracking panel, not surprised when it told her there had not been enough time to trace the call. Swallowing hard, she cradled the receiver. Looking up, she noted Logan, Bobby, Peter and Jean staring at her, worry etched all over their faces.

“Purple lilies…on my grave…”

~@~

Logan had not left her side in roughly three hours. No matter where she went in the mansion, he was right beside her. Now, as she curled up on the sofa in the Professor’s office, he handed her a cup of tea before plopping into the space beside her.

He had been the one to call the others, handing her to Bobby as she went from completely calm to shell shocked in less than a minute. Logan, her love, the man who could complete a laundry list of tasks within seconds, had taken control over the situation. The children were in bed, and the adults finally sitting to discuss the horrid phone call.

“This is not the first time the school has received a telephonic threat,” Charles said from his chessboard.

“Never targeted at a specific person though,” Jean replied from across the board.

“And not with that kind of information,” Scott chimed in from his position by the window, where he had been pacing for the last several minutes.

“I would venture to say that our lovely Storm is in danger, even within the walls of the school,” Henry said, reaching over to pat her hand.

“Yeah? They’ll have to get through me,” Logan growled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and clutching her tightly.

It was perhaps the first time he had ever done so in the presence of others, and that muted look of surprise on every face told her the others had recognized this as well.

“Me too,” Rogue said bluntly.

“And me,” Bobby chimed in.

“Mark the rest of us down,” Peter said in his solemn tone. “There is no chance they will take Storm from us.”

Ororo smiled at them all, though the expression felt as false as she was sure it looked. Jean winked at her, though her eyes betrayed her concern.

“Don’t you feel loved right about now, sister dear?”

She nodded slightly, curling her blue-slipper-socked-feet up under her a little more. She hated being the object of concern. It was not in her nature to ask for help. She wanted to rise up and rebel against the entire episode. To make herself their equal again. The call had frightened her, but that was no cause for general alarm.

“I believe we should place a tracking device on Ororo, as a precautionary measure, of course,” Charles said gently.

A tag. As though she were a dog.

“Is that necessary? You don’t really leave the mansion anyway,” Scott piped up.

“Yes, but you will all be needed for the mission the moment the word comes in,” Beast answered, scratching his blue face.

“Am I no longer free to join the X-Men on missions?” she inquired, sitting up and shrugging Logan’s arm away.

“You shouldn’t leave the mansion, dear,” Jean said quietly.

“I am in danger here as well as off the grounds,” she countered, standing.

“’Ro, come on…”

“Ororo,” Charles tried.

Not wanting to hear another word, Ororo pulled away from Logan’s searching hand and stomped to the office door. She opened it and left it open as she marched into the hall.

It was late, the children would be sleeping at last, there would be no whispers of “Miss Munroe’s temper tantrum”. Grumbling about lack of respect, Ororo turned toward the garage, pausing to collect her car keys from the rack.

As if hearing the jingle of keys, Ororo heard Logan from the office.

“Aw, shit!”

She bolted.

Ororo had lived in the mansion for nearly a decade. She rounded corners and leaped over furniture by memory. She skidded on her socks in the hall, grabbing the doorknob to the garage entrance and slipped outside.

“Ro!”

Ignoring Logan’s call, Ororo pushed the button to open the garage door and wrenched the handle of the door to her white Mini. The mansion door opened, revealing Logan as well as most of the others. He entered the garage as she placed the keys into the ignition and roared the engine to life.

Logan reached her as she buckled her seat belt, locking the doors with the push of a button.

“Storm! Turn the damn car off!” he cried, pounding on the window.

She shook her head, pointing to her ears as if she could not hear him. This was a blatant act of childish rebellion that could very well get her killed and she knew it. She reveled in it. Here, in this one act, she felt an odd remembrance of the night several years ago when she had run away from the mansion, from Xavier’s dream.

Looking directly into Logan’s eyes, she grabbed the gearshift and pounded on the clutch. The car shot into reverse. She whipped the wheel around into a perfect 180-degree turn. Another movement of her hand and feet and she was screaming for the gates.

A quick look to her mirror told her that Logan was standing in the driveway, glaring after her. She would pay for this later, but she would teach them all a lesson in the meantime. She was not a damsel in distress. She was an adult, an X-Man, a formidable mutant in her own right.

The car slid through the gates as they closed, seemingly to lock her in. Ororo turned the car to the west and shot off into the night, hoping the speed would drive away the memories of Chicago and the rasping voice that spoke so calmly of her grave.





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