Chapter Four: Scent
Logan sat in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, sipping a cup of coffee as he tried to make sense of things. It was a ritual for the early riser. In the quiet hours of morning, when the world took its time at waking up, he could sit in the silence and think. With only the soft chirp of distant birds for company.
Jean had been gone eight months now. In that time, so much had changed…and with it, changed him.
Nightcrawler, as he had been called, had taken his time getting out of the X-Men’s way. He was a religious man, not one for fighting. Apparently he had gone off to Germany to “atone for his sins”. That was all right by Logan. One less person to irritate him.
He knew that the man named Kurt…or something, was still in contact with Rogue. He called her nearly every week to check up on her. Logan conceded that the blue-tailed mutant had made the effort because of the young girl’s reaction to his rescue of her. The teleporter had daringly grabbed her in mid-air, saving her life in that horrific aerial attack eight months ago. He had to admit, it would have created a bond with anyone.
Rogue. He smiled to himself. The daughter and sister he had never had. She was closer to him than, well, anyone. Her smile was worth all the insults he had to put up with from Cyclops and it was for her that he had not run off again. It was for her that he kept himself locked away in the mansion.
She was still dating the Iceman, Bobby Drake. The boy had been asked to not return to his family’s home. Who could blame them? The kid’s friend had set fire to a dozen cops, not to mention their home. Bobby had a desire to be an X-Man, to be with Rogue. Logan wouldn’t admit it under severe torture, but he approved of the relationship, no matter the pitfalls. The kid was obviously not in it for the sex.
Cyclops was another interesting development. He had fallen into an emotional abyss when Jean left them, withdrawing within himself for weeks. Only after Storm’s near-death experience did he begin to show signs of life. Logan idly wondered if that had been the white-haired woman’s intention all along. He wouldn’t put it passed her, she lived and breathed this school along with everyone in it.
With Jean out of the picture, Scott and Logan had formed a relationship as close to friendship as they were going to get. They traded insults, pushed buttons, and generally carried on, but some of the bite had left it. Working on projects and training for the newest generation of X-Men kept them occupied…and helped prevent bloodshed. Chuck was touchy about that sort of thing.
Despite his brief foray into the teaching world, Logan did not have much to do around the place. Whenever brawn was needed, he rose to the occasion, but most of the time he wandered about, bored out of his mind. At least with Project: Danger Room, he had something. A few times he had even considered asking to take over combat training. He felt asking now might send the resident Boy Scout into a conniption.
Xavier still spoke with Logan when he could, trying to draw more memories from his previous life to the surface. All in all, they were unsuccessful. Logan was almost happy about that. He had enough bad memories as it was, his nightmares changing from the experiences fifteen years ago at Alkali Lake to clinging to Rogue’s limp form on Liberty Island, holding Scott as he wept over the loss of Jean, of not saving Storm in time three weeks ago.
She smells like rain.
The wayward thought threw his process off track. He had come to the conclusion at dawn this morning. Hell, after witnessing her little adventure the night before, it would have been strange not to.
Ororo. His friend. Well, when she wasn’t occupied being a genius with Hank and Chuck or a sister to Cykie or a teacher and mentor to the kids. She would listen to him talk about anything, or sit with him in comfortable silence, not needing to fill the quiet with empty words.
He had taken to watching her carefully. At first, it had been simply to ensure that she was healing properly. After that…it became entertaining. Her entire body radiated raw power to anyone astute enough to pick it up. Her movements were always graceful, controlled. Sometimes, he wondered what it would take to crack the ice around that woman.
For some reason, her words had an effect on him. From that first altercation when Rogue had been kidnapped by Magneto, her challenge, she had stayed with him. Always on the edge of his awareness. She was his conscience. Choices. She was obsessed with choices.
He had not had many choices in his life. Things were taken from him, taken for him. Storm’s radical insistence that he make choices had come along to round out his thinking process. There was always a choice.
Jean had made a choice.
Thinking her name or even saying it no longer blinded him with pain. Jean had made it clear to him that her choice had always been Scott. She chose her fiancée over him, despite his relentless attentions. Jean had chosen to leave the jet that day, sacrificing herself for the team.
A small smile played about his lips as he shoved the memories of her channeled goodbye to her lover via the Professor, of Scott’s cries, the grief that had been written over every face that day. Concentrate on the good, bub, he told himself sternly.
Turning his thoughts from Jean, which he found easier every day, he thought back to the night before. Taking off into the woods as an animal caged too long would. There had been the ferocity of the summer storm, the feel of earth under his feet, the powerful smell of nature exploding around him.
When the storm had intensified, he’d looked up, shocked when he noted a slender human form drifting in the whipping winds. Fascinated, Logan watched his teammate commune with her powers, thunder and lightning crashing around her, the fat raindrops soaking her clothing and skin as the wind pulled her hair into it’s currents like a banner.
He’d never seen anything so breathtaking. The sight of her lithe body held within the rolling clouds above. The goddess she had been in Africa mixed with the powerful woman he had come to know. Watching her that way, he did, truly, understand the nature of her tribe’s worship. If he had less control over his baser instincts, he would bow down in adulation as well.
It was then that he finally recognized the origin of her unique smell. Everyone at the mansion had one, even without the aid of perfumes or colognes. While the scents were unique, he could often associate them with surroundings or things each person was fond of. In the case of mutants, it often had some kind of connection to their powers.
The Professor, for instance, smelled of old English leather and rust. It was the scent of someone who loved books and expensive things. Rogue always had a scent of flowers around her, something sweet and innocent. That Bobby kid, he always had a clean scent, like a lakeshore as winter ice began to melt with spring. Cyclops always had an air of burned wood or grass to him.
Ororo smelled like rain. That heady, earthy scent anyone could pick up after the skies released a raging storm. She never masked it with fancy perfumes. It was always there, like a scion of nature even in the slick metallic halls of the mansion’s lower levels. As he thought about it, he realized that her scent reminded him of the wilds he was fond of. Perhaps that was why her presence seemed to calm him.
Logan looked up when he heard a soft footfall in the hallway leading to the kitchen. He raised his nose slightly, testing the air. The acrid scent of cleansers and soap greeted him. Beast.
“Good morning, Logan,” the Beast greeted in the quiet voice most use in early morning. “Is there any coffee left?”
“Yeah,” Logan growled over his cup. “Want to get me a refill?”
“Of course,” Henry replied, moving to take his nearly empty cup. “Would you like something to eat? I believe it is my turn for breakfast.”
Logan hated to admit it, but he was slowly growing to like this enormous man. He had a calm about him, none of the ferocity of an animal, though his appearance said otherwise. He was cheerful to a fault, but there was compassion in him that no one was exempt from. It did not matter how long he had known you. If he liked you, you were one of his own. Simple. Why he had returned to the X-Men was largely unknown, but Logan had a sneaky suspicion that he had returned at the Professor’s insistence. For ‘Ro.
“Eggs, if you don’t mind. And bacon,” he answered.
“A wise choice,” his companion grinned.
Though Logan liked the man, he talked entirely too much. There was always something on the furry blue mutant’s mind. Something he just ached to share with everyone in the vicinity. Storm often sat across from him at meals and let him talk at her. Not with her. At her. She would nod, smile, ask a question occasionally. She had a good deal of patience when it came to Hank.
But this morning, the Beast was quiet. In fact, he seemed damn near reclusive as he brought Logan his coffee and started breakfast. Not another word was spoken between them, even when Hank finished preparing the morning meal and sat down across from him. Logan did not want to get into a long conversation about genetics or “ God forbid “ feelings this early, so he let it lie. Ororo or Scott could flush things out.
Almost the instant he thought her name, the scent of fresh rain drifted into the kitchen, accompanied by the light thump of heeled boots on the carpeting that heralded Storm’s arrival. For some reason, Logan sat up a bit in his chair, sipping his coffee to cover the movement from the other animalistic persona at the table.
“Good morning, Henry, Logan,” she greeted in her even tone. “Have you two heathens left anything for us humans?”
Logan noted the wistful tone of her voice and gave an inward laugh. Of course she felt like a million bucks. She had spent hours last night in her element. Literally. He had to admit, he had a similar feeling. He ran. She communed. Interesting.
Of course, that meant he had to tease her. He was willing to bet his adamantium that she had not told ol’ Hank about her adventure. Logan assumed Beast would not be happy.
“Mornin’,” he grumbled after Hank replied to her. “Hank made coffee and breakfast.”
“Thank you,” she gave them both one of her rare, huge grins. “This smells wonderful.”
He waited until she came to the table, sliding over in the booth to make room for her. She sat beside him, her face turned up to the morning sky for a moment, as though it were whispering something meant for her ears alone.
Once she lifted her fork, Logan pounced.
“That was some storm last night, ‘Ro. You sure it wasn’t you? Had your smell all over it,” he tested over his coffee cup.
Storm’s features did not change a fraction. He had to hand it to her, she was good.
“I am quite sure, Logan. Had it been me, I would have admitted it,” Ororo replied.
Logan grunted, chewing on a slice of bacon, deciding to up the ante.
“Ah, well. Thought I’d thank ya. Had a hell of a good time running through the woods with that thing above me,” he muttered quietly.
Had he not been watching her out of the corner of his eye, he would not have noticed the tightening of her eyebrows. She tended to do that when she was trying to figure something out.
When her blue eyes met his, he saw a question in them. He grinned. She did a fair imitation of his scowl.
“Well, I’m done here,” he announced loudly, nudging Ororo so she would slide out of the booth to let him out.
The weight of her stare followed him as he left the booth and rinsed his dishes, placing them into the dishwasher as Scott entered the room. Deciding to hang back a moment, he signaled to Cykie, indicating that he wanted a word when he was finished with breakfast. The X-Men’s leader nodded as he scooped eggs from the pan, saying good morning to Storm and Beast.
Lighting a cigar, Logan left the kitchen in search of Rogue. They had a training schedule to keep and he knew he would have to wake her himself. At least the others actually obeyed their irritating alarm clocks.
As he traveled through the quiet mansion, he could smell the trail Storm had left behind. How had be not been able to pinpoint her scent before? Shaking his head, he pulled a hard drag from his cigar, pinching it between his teeth as he nodded a good morning to Peter.
“I’ll be in the training room,” the huge teenager said, already dressed and ready to go.
“Outside. We’re running first,” he corrected the boy.
“Yes, Professor Logan.”
Smirking to himself, he knocked on Marie’s door. He could hear Colossus pounding on Bobby’s door to get him moving. The kid had a way with leadership. If ol’ One-Eye didn’t watch himself, he’d be taking orders from the boy soon.
“Marie? Get up!” Logan shouted through her door.
His sensitive ears picked up a muffled gasp and a loud thud from inside Rogue’s room. Sensing danger, Wolverine released his claws with a resonating snikt. Peter’s footsteps behind him and the eerie sound of the boy covering himself with his metal mutation told him he had backup, should he need it.
Logan raised a leg and kicked the door in, stepping through the splintered wood, whole body on the alert. There were many things he could handle…Rogue in danger was not on that list.
“Logan!”
Rogue’s cry came from the direction of her bed, followed by a male swearing violently.
Bobby.
“What in hell?”
He felt his eyes go wide as they fell on a rather tragic scene. Rogue, clad in her body-stocking and nightclothes sat on her bed, hair tousled. Bobby was on the floor…in his boxers and socks.
Instead of retracting his claws, Logan took a menacing step toward the boy, his posture rigid. This wasn’t a kid anymore, this was a man, soon to be an ex-man. Logan growled low in his throat, approaching the bed with the intent to terrify.
Obviously, Bobby had not received the memo about being frightened. The boy’s hand flew up, white ice flowing from his fingers, heedless to Rogue’s cries for the men to “chill out”. Logan grunted as the ice covered his torso, slowing down his advance to a crawl.
Peter stepped between them, grasping Bobby’s hand in his steel grip, releasing Logan from Iceman’s powers.
“Enough,” the larger man nearly shouted. “You too, Wolverine.”
Logan glared at the three of them, claws extended as he pointed to Rogue.
“Come with me. Now!”
He retracted his claws with malevolent sluggishness. He wanted Iceman to get a good look at the adamantium. Rogue slid passed Colossus, who looked ready to lecture his young “teammate” himself as Logan stalked out of the room.
“Logan, what has happened?”
Storm. Damn it. They must have alerted the entire mansion.
“You. Deal with the Ice-Boy,” Logan snapped at her, taking Rogue’s silk-covered arm and steering her into his bedroom across the hall.
He barely registered the shock on ‘Ro’s face before she vanished into Rogue’s room. He slammed his own bedroom door closed behind Rogue, whirling on her.
“What in hell was that?”
The girl whom had never been afraid of him, glared up at him. “We were sleepin’.”
“Sleepin’? Do you know what could have happened?!”
“Happened? Logan, Ah can’t even kiss him…”
“Exactly!” he roared, instinctual protectiveness drawing his claws from their resting place. He turned and destroyed a nearby bookshelf. He couldn’t hit her, after all, and it was his damned bedroom.
Confusion had found it’s way to Marie’s face. Logan took a few deep breaths, trying to quell his irrational anger. When he trusted himself to speak, he retracted his claws.
“Marie,” he began slowly. “What would have happened if he had rolled over in your bed and touched your face in his sleep? Huh? He could have been dead before either of you knew it.”
She looked irritated and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ah know that. Which is why he slept with his head at mah feet, idiot.”
Logan clamped his mouth shut. “Oh.”
Rogue nodded. “Yeah.”
Suddenly unsure of himself, Logan opened the bedroom door for her, clearing his throat. He wouldn’t apologize, and for some reason, he knew she understood that.
“Go get changed, we’re running today.”
“Right,” she replied, stomping out of the room, snarling under her breath. Perhaps the times she had absorbed a part of him had stayed with her after all.
Just as Rogue was leaving, he caught sight of Storm leaving Bobby’s room. She hadn’t seen him, so he watched her. Once she closed Bobby’s door, she covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking. Logan narrowed his eyes as he puffed on his cigar, taking in the posture of her back and the steady rocking of her shoulders.
She was laughing.
Frowning at his obvious overreaction, Logan ducked back into his room to change for training.
It was going to be a long day.
~@~
X-Men, I need to see you in the War Room. As soon as possible.
Logan shook himself awake at the mental beckoning. He hated it when Chuck did that, though it saved time. Especially when he was having a nightmare-free evening. Rolling out of bed, he glanced at the clock.
“Two in the morning? Come on, Chuck,” he groaned, reaching for a shirt to pull over his pajama bottoms.
Forgoing shoes, he grumbled his way out of the bedroom, grunting a greeting to Beast, Storm, and Cyclops.
Like him, they were all in their nightclothes. Storm had taken the time to don a robe and slippers, but Scott and Beast wore only shirts and pajama pants. At least this time, he had not paused to wait for Jean. The thought was brushed aside as the group filed into the hidden elevator that would take them to the lower levels.
Charles was waiting for them, dressed in his customary suit and tie. Apparently, the man had not even been to sleep yet, he had been wearing the exact same outfit at dinner. Testing the air, he caught the scent of anxiety from Charles…and to his surprise, Storm as well.
“This will not be easy to hear,” the Professor began once they were all seated. “But I must send you to Alkali Lake.”
The stunned silence was ripe with tension. Logan’s spine stiffened under the weight of it. Chuck was sending them to the one place he never wanted to lay eyes on again. The base, the watery tomb of one of their own had been the frequent setting for his recurring nightmares.
“Why?” came Cyclops’ choked question. Logan did not even need to look at him to know there was pain written clearly on his face.
“I cannot explain,” the wheelchair bound man replied. “Not because I do not want to, but because I do not understand the nature of this journey. I only know that it is imperative that you leave at once.”
Without a word, Storm rose from her chair and exited the room. Logan had a very bad feeling at that point. She had not even questioned the order and she had already left to prepare the jet. She knew something.
Something unsaid passed between Beast and Charles. Telepathy, no doubt. Cyclops looked to Logan, who could only shrug. Logan was not accustomed to taking orders, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to question a man who could kill him with his brain. Not at two in the morning, anyway.
“Cyclops, perhaps you should stay behind to mind the store with me. Logan, fetch Colossus and get him a uniform.”
Scott did not protest. Logan stood silently, staring at the X-Men’s benefactor in surprise. Cykie was the leader. The only reason to not allow him on the mission would be…
Jean.
A cold trickle of apprehension slipped down Logan’s spine as he exited the War Room in search of Colossus. Stopping at the uniform rack, Wolverine grabbed his own leather threads, and then collected the huge uniform they had ordered for Colossus. The kids didn’t know it, but they all had uniforms waiting for them.
Colossus was the elder of the students. He had been at Xavier’s school longer than any of the graduating class. As such, he had a hell of a lot more training. More than that, Logan trusted him. When Stryker had invaded the mansion, the teenage mutant had ensured many of the children were safe. That earned him a place in the hearts of all the X-Men.
Besides, his mutation made him as close to invulnerable as a person could get and added enough strength to knock down a skyscraper. One never knew when that kind of talent would be useful.
“Colossus!” Logan knocked heavily on his door when he reached it.
A light sleeper, Peter answered ten seconds later, alert and solemn. Logan wordlessly handed him a uniform.
Peter took it with the same seriousness in which he did everything, closing the door a moment later. Logan ducked into the closest empty room he could find, Storm’s as it turned out, and changed. He met Colossus in the hall thirty seconds later.
“Come on, kid, we’ve got work to do.”
Colossus did not question him, he followed Wolverine quickly as they headed back downstairs to the jet and a mission no one understood.
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