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Chapter Eight: Awakening

Logan awoke early, as was his custom. It had been a week since Ororo’s second adventure in the mall parking lot and Logan was still no closer to figuring things out than he had been that night outside her bedroom.

He was horrified when the Professor wheeled into the kitchen that afternoon, worry creasing his brow. The knowledge that something had happened to Kitty, Rogue, and Storm had his animalistic hackles up. Wanting to rush to their aid, he and Cyclops had stood, nearly in unison.

It was only when he realized that Storm was there that he pulled himself up short. Chuck assured them all that the girls were heading home, unharmed. Trusting Storm with the only family he had ever had, Logan trooped into the drive with the others and waited.

He disliked waiting. But in his new line of work, he seemed to be doing it more often than not. He should have known that morning, when the hair on the back of his neck pricked up at Bobby’s admission that the girls had left the mansion. He should have gone after them.

The cigar she had bought him remained un-smoked. It rested in a small drawer in his desk, still wrapped, as it had been when he received it. Kitty’s had been aromatic, like a dessert. That one he had enjoyed after a particularly good meal Saturday evening. Rogue’s had a bite to it, and he was working his way through that one at the moment.

Ororo’s smelled like her. It was filled with an earthy, organic flavor that mingled in with the scent her hands had left on it. For some reason, he was saving that cigar for another time.

That night he had gone to her room, not really knowing what he wanted to say. When she’d answered the door, wrapped in some kind of satiny thing that was supposed to pass for a bathrobe, her hair all pinned up, face bearing no hint of make up, he’d said the only thing he could think of besides “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

She’d felt vulnerable, she said. She’d wanted him there to help her. The moment he’d processed what she had admitted, he wished he had not let her down, as odd as that sounded. Ororo should never feel that weak. She was strong, though she didn’t always know it.

Of course, that damn perceptive sixth sense she had didn’t make it any easier. Cutting through layers of his own self deluded reasons and hitting the proverbial nail on the head. He never left the mansion because he wanted Rogue within “saving distance”.

It was then that he understood that wasn’t the entire reason. He never left the mansion…because she didn’t. He wanted to be there for Ororo, not only Rogue. She needed backup, someone to put foot to ass when the situation called for it. As a powerful mutant, she should not have required help, but for some reason she had reached out to him.

He had taken her hand and never even noticed the difference.

Gotta stop thinkin’ bout this, bub. It’s not doin’ anyone any good.

Rolling in his bed, he noted the pink stain of dawn outside of his window and dragged himself out of bed. Yawning, he stretched languidly as he stood. Every day since Ororo had cried, he woke up thinking about her. Once, he had even reached for her, waking from a nightmare of a dark tunnel and a bright white light he could not reach.

They had not spoken about the strange behavior the night before the mall incident. He had wanted to move on, though he thought about it more often than he would have liked. It was an odd feeling, knowing he had said or done something to push her away when all she had wanted to do was help him.

And damn, his room still bore a hint of her scent.

Logan showered quickly, dressing as was his trademark in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, heavy black boots on his feet. It did not take long to head downstairs in the relative silence of the morning. He took his time once he was downstairs, noting that Kitty had fallen asleep in the living room again, the DVD player was stuck on the menu of whatever sappy romance she’d passed out to the evening before.

He took a moment to shut the irritating thing off, cutting the mournful music of violins off in mid-note. Pausing, he covered Kitty in a blanket before moving on to the kitchen. That girl really needed a boyfriend. She drove him absolutely insane with her movies and books all over the mansion. He couldn’t wait until she was off at college. At least he would be spared her crying over the love scenes.

Creeping into the kitchen, Logan caught the scent of peppermint on the air and halted in the doorway.

“Good morning, Logan,” a soft, achingly familiar voice greeted.

He took one more step into the kitchen, revealing Jean as she sat in a pool of dawn sunlight at the table, a cup of coffee in her hands. Logan’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. Cautiously, he met her eyes, relief filling him when he recognized the sparkle of humor and intelligence that Jean’s had always borne.

She was back.

“Hey,” he said, still blinking as though she would vanish.

Jean’s smile was kind, much like the one he’d received when he awoke on the medical bed after the Liberty Island fiasco. Coming up to the table, he smiled back, not quite sure how to react to this new development. They had all spent a week waiting for her to come back to them. It was never a question of “if”, only “when”.

“I’m glad you’re up first,” she was saying. “Though I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Logan smirked. “I live here, Jeanie. Where else would I be?”

The red haired telepath chuckled quietly. “I didn’t know you lived here. And when did I become Jeanie?”

He shrugged, clearing his throat as he grabbed a coffee cup and moved to the pot. He could feel Jean watching him, though his back was turned, as he tried to collect himself. It was a miracle, having her back like this. He had not been prepared for such a casual greeting during what was usually his alone time.

“How’re the Professor and Beast? I know they’ve been working pretty hard,” he said at last.

“Sleeping. The Professor and I managed to subdue my other personality early last night. About an hour ago, I was finally deemed ready to leave the infirmary. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two never managed to undress before they fell asleep.”

“You’re not tired?” he questioned, taking his coffee back to the table, feeling a little more at ease.

“Not really. I just spent a week sedated, you know. I wanted to see the house, and everyone,” she replied, smiling as he sat opposite her.

“Seen One-Eye yet?” he grunted, taking a sip of his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue.

“Yes, actually, he was there when I woke up. I made him go shower a few minutes ago. He was having a hard time staying in one piece,” Jean laughed a little. “I suppose I can’t blame him. His fiancée did just come back from the dead.”

Logan laughed with her. “Still engaged then?”

The question was purposefully light, without any undertones of jealously, surprising even himself. He needed to tell her, somehow, that she was safe from his advances now.

Jean raised a brow. “Yes.”

“That’s good. Maybe he’ll stop moanin’ and groanin’ about dying an old maid,” Logan quipped, hoping to make her laugh again.

It worked. Jean laughed heartily, wiping at her eyes as Logan smirked at her. Jean was back, really back. He had a feeling it would be a good day.

“Well, I’ll try to convince him he won’t be an old maid,” Jean said once she’d gotten hold of herself.

“Can’t tell ya how happy that makes me,” Logan winked, taking a sip of his coffee again.

Jean slid from the booth, making her way to the coffee pot. “So, why don’t you tell me what I missed, Logan.”

He sat back in the booth and looked at the ceiling. “That’s a long list, darlin’.”

She turned back to him, her face pained. Mentally kicking himself, he opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.

“I’ve missed my family, Logan.”

He nodded curtly. “Ok.”

~@~

Two hours after arriving in the kitchen, Logan was finally finishing up the long list of “what Jean missed”. Scott had come downstairs shortly after Logan, sitting beside his fiancée and adding in his two cents where needed.

The three ate breakfast together, the house still quiet around them, though Logan could detect muffled sounds from above that hinted the others were waking as well.

Scott and Jean were in constant physical contact. Their bodies brushed against one another as they chatted amicably with Wolverine. It was sickening, really. Love practically oozed off of them and flooded the floor. Logan was quite sure he never wanted to be reduced to that kind of touchy-feely stuff.

It was a lot like watching Bobby and Rogue, actually. That didn’t comfort him in the least.

Jean had laughed over the antics of her students, nearly cried when Logan retold the story of Storm’s injuries in Chicago, and her eyes burned with a fiery rage when she learned of the incident at the mall. She was happy though, Logan could tell. Jean had missed her home and everyone in it.

When Logan detected a hint of fresh rain on the air, along with the soft thumping of boots on the carpet in the hall, he inhaled deeply, trying to figure out which direction Storm was coming from.

He had all but tuned Scott and Jean out when a feminine voice spoke into his mind.

Thank you.

Logan whipped around, staring at Jean, a little annoyed that he could possibly miss ‘Ro’s entrance. He had a strange sort of ritual now. The first sight of her in the morning was something that made him get out of bed every day.

Really? Jean’s telepathic voice was filled with humor. Well, that explains why you’re not hitting on me. Thank you for that. It’s keeping Scott calm.

Not wanting to reply, he nodded, turning his eyes, nose, and ears back to their “watch”. He hated it when the telepaths just looked into his head that way. Maybe it was a good thing Jeanie was taken.

One night of snooping in his mind during sex and he’d have definitely lost his temper.

“Good morning, Logan,” he heard Ororo’s soft voice as she entered the kitchen from the living room. He instantly took in her appearance, saving the image almost by habit.

As usual, she wore white. A white top that set off her dark skin and made her hair seem even more pure. Tight leather pants, heeled boots. She’d left her hair down…and not bothered with makeup.

“Rogue would like a trip to the cinema this afternoon with Bobby. She was wondering if you would take them.”

His eyes met hers across the kitchen and he nodded once. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Excellent, you can take my car, if you like,” she continued, heading for the coffee pot. “Good morning, Scott. Good morning, Jean.”

A soft snort across the table drew his eyes to Scott and Jean. They were laughing, though trying to hide it. Lost in his own thoughts, it took Logan a moment to put it all together as well. Poor ‘Ro hadn’t even realized what she’d done. He poised himself at the edge of the booth, ready to spring into action when she finally understood.

Glass shattered all over the counter and burning liquid splashed to the floor as the coffee pot slipped from Ororo’s grip. Logan leaped from the booth, taking the kitchen in two strides, instantly checking her for injuries. The woman had not moved, but her entire body trembled.

“Jean?” her whisper tore at his heart.

Blue eyes found his, pleading with him. Logan nodded his head toward the table, urging her to turn and see for herself.

“I’m here, sweetie,” Jean replied softly from the table, all laughter gone from her voice.

No scent of blood found his nose, but Ororo had burned her hand. He stepped away from her as she turned, her eyes finding Jean’s as her lip quivered with emotion. She wouldn’t cry. He knew that. She would tuck it all away inside of her.

Jean held her arms out to Ororo, and the darker woman moved slowly toward the table. Logan noted the telepath was crying, her eyes locked onto Storm’s. It didn’t take a genius to know they were saying everything they needed to say, silently.

When Storm reached Jean, they embraced warmly. Logan heard a sniffle and looked around the women, groaning when he noted Scott was crying openly.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Logan grabbed a nearby dishtowel, stepping over the remnants of the coffee pot to get some ice for ‘Ro’s burn. Without a word, he handed the cold towel to Jean, leaving Storm in her care as he busied himself with cleaning her mess.

The noise level from the living room and staircase increased. Voices and footsteps carried to Logan’s sensitive ears, which pricked up, trying to identify the people moving toward the kitchen.

“Heads up, Jeanie,” he grumbled. “You’re about to be soaking wet.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Thirty seconds later, the teenage housemates stomped into the kitchen, coming to a screeching halt when they noted the red-haired woman standing in the center of the room.

Logan was sure he’d gone deaf from all the squealing. Holding his ears, he stumbled from the kitchen, content to spend some much needed time alone.

~@~

“Aw, come on!” Logan shouted into the maintenance hatch his torso was crammed in. “This is ri-goddamn-diculous!”

Project: Danger Room was still on schedule, but Logan was having a hard time installing the video monitoring system so they could record training sessions for review. Scott had already set up the major pieces of electronics, including the holographic projectors, with the aid of Hank.

Of course, things always seemed to go wrong when Logan wanted to work on something. Swearing as he received another minor electrical shock, he heard the sound of a throat clearing from the hallway, where his feet happened to be sticking out.

Sliding on his back to look up at Scott, he growled.

“I hate this fuckin’ thing.”

“Doesn’t seem to like you much, either,” Summers replied, kneeling in front of the panel to release the next one over. “Want some help?”

“If you can make it work, yeah. If you’re gonna ask me personal questions because Jeanie sent you down here to get dirt on what was goin’ on in my head this mornin’, fuck no,” Logan snapped, reaching for his wrench.

“Actually, Storm sent me down here to remind you that you’re supposed to take Rogue and Bobby to that movie in a few hours,” Cyclops snapped back, placing the panel he’d removed away and sliding into the conduit on his back.

Logan could see Scott’s face through the mess of wires and computer chips. Side by side, they began to work on the video system, much as they had over the last weeks while setting up their new “toy”.

“Oh yeah. Almost forgot,” he paused. He did not want to talk about ‘Ro right now.

“Damn, Wolfman, this thing is fried. Got another chip in your box?” Cyclops muttered, grabbing the burnt computer chip and tossing it into the hall.

“Yeah, I can’t figure out what’s burnin’ them.”

“Too much power through this entire area. We’ll have to reroute some through the projectors.”

“Hey, the last thing we need to do is overload those bastards.”

“True,” Scott paused. “We’ll route the excess voltage through the secondary power system. That should hold it.”

“Right.”

They worked in silence for some time, speaking only to confirm something or toss an insult from one conduit to the other. Logan hated being bested at anything by Cykie, but he had to admit that the man had a knack for electronics.

Once they repaired the power flow system, they began work on the heating and cooling injectors, designed to change the temperature during sessions for building up resistances. Logan’s mind seemed to like this kind of work. It was methodical and everything had an answer. Unlike the rest of his life, this made sense.

It was not until just before Logan had to leave to keep his promise to Rogue that Scott mentioned anything about Jean.

“What did you mean earlier? About Jean sending me down here?” he tried.

“If you don’t know, I’m not sayin’ a word,” Wolverine shot back.

“Look, at the risk of being clawed into taco meat, I’m going to ask this one question. If you don’t want to answer, I’ll leave it alone.”

Logan grunted.

“Do you honestly think no one sees the way you look at her?”

He stopped. The wrench halted in it’s tightening motion, the head still locked onto the screw he’d been adjusting. Believing Scott was talking about Jean, he snarled.

“I’m not touchin’ Jean, dick. We got that bit out of the way this mornin’.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Terrified to even think about what that meant, Logan paused before replying. He could try to shrug it off, threaten the moron, or just walk away. The truth of the matter was that Logan had no idea why he looked at her that way, or why she consumed his thoughts and even nightmares.

“’Ro?”

“Right,” Scott grunted as he finished bolting a panel down. “You never take your eyes off of her, and this morning it was like you were waiting for her. I won’t mention the jumping-up-to-catch-her thing after she broke the coffee pot.”

Deciding to not reply, as his claws were already poking at the underside of his skin, begging to be released, he turned away from Cyclops, pulling another panel off to check the chips inside it.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Scott said a few moments later, a hint of awe in his voice.

“Know what?” Logan growled.

Scott whistled lowly, as though something was immensely entertaining. “When you figure it out, man, you’re in for a hell of a surprise.”

“Come on, bub, just lay it all out. Am I missin’ somethin’ or are you just lookin’ for a fight?”

“Trust me on this, Logan, its not something you want to hear from me. You’ll figure it out on your own,” Scott stated simply.

“Shouldn’t you be off making kissy face with your fiancée?”

Every instinct in him was screaming to hit Scott and run, full tilt, out of the mansion. Knowing something was going on inside himself was one thing. Being called on it by someone he barely tolerated was completely different. He’d been in this damn house too long.

“What in the world are you two doing?”

Speak of the goddamn devil…

Both men attempted to sit up quickly from their positions, while still halfway inside the conduit. As one, they knocked their heads on a low pipe, groaning and shaking their heads after it. Logan slid out from under the panel, noting Scott was doing likewise.

Storm stood above them, hands on her hips, trying to hide the amused smile on her face.

“Having fun with your toys, are you?”

For a moment, Logan was sure Scott would say something incriminating and he would have to kill the bastard.

“Working on some video surveillance upgrades down here and talking about football,” Scott lied smoothly.

Hiding the shock and tinge of appreciation, Logan looked from Scott to Ororo.

“Time to go?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Rogue is upstairs in the foyer, tapping her foot and glaring at the elevator,” she replied, holding her hands out to help them stand.

“Jean went to lie down. I think the emotional morning is taking it’s toll,” she added a moment later, as Scott brushed the dust from his jeans.

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll go check on her. Wolverine, we can finish this later, right?”

“Sure,” Logan nodded, feeling the bruise on his forehead healing.

He took a moment to kneel in front of Ororo, boxing up their tools and sliding the open panel he’d moved back into place. Sudden movement beside him caught his eye as footsteps retreated down the hall.

Storm replaced the panel One-Eye had been working in, her delicate fingers pressing the magnetic corners until they clicked. He thanked her with a nod, taking up the toolbox and motioning toward the elevator.

“I’ll go change, could ya tell Rogue I’ll be up in a minute?”

“Of course,” Storm replied, moving to the elevator. He closed his eyes once her back was to him, inhaling deeply.

“Any idea what she wants to see?” he asked as the elevator doors slid closed after they entered.

“Casablanca,” she supplied quickly, pressing the button to take them up. “I had no idea that Rogue preferred classic films to new ones.”

“What’s it about?”

“Love, for the most part. Falling in love, the risks of it, and then losing it, of course. It is that way with many “epic” romances,” she told him, her voice that same even tone he was used to.

He grunted. “Great. Two hours with a mushy teenage couple and a sappy movie. Sounds like a fantastic time,” he said sarcastically.

“At the very least, you will be able to sleep,” she quipped with a small smile.

Logan gave her a one-sided smirk. “With those two? I doubt it. They can’t buy chewing gum without it turning into a fuckin’ Greek tragedy.”

Ororo covered her mouth to suppress a laugh, revealing a white bandage covering her palm.

“How bad was the burn?” he questioned as the elevator doors stopped at the main level.

“First degree. There should not be any scarring, but Henry wants to keep an eye on it,” she paused. “Thank you, by the way.”

He raised a brow as she stepped out of the elevator. “For what?”

“Trying to rescue me again. It is becoming a habit, I fear.”

Logan did not have time to respond. The elevator door slid closed a moment later, taking him to the dormitory level as he pondered her words, bracing himself for an afternoon of teenage romantic antics.





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