Storm was at the counter of the kitchen in the small warehouse she called "home", chopping up the lettuce she was going to use for a fresh salad. They didn't have much, and usually all the food they had was grown in her small garden. Looking at the clock, she walked toward the cabinet and grabbed a small pill bottle, pouring out the last two they had. "I hope he's on his way back," she muttered, throwing the bottle in the trash can as she walked toward the door. She stopped suddenly when Logan walked through the door. "He's having a rough day," she said quietly as he took off his jacket.
"They're all rough days," Logan said curtly, placing a white bag on the table.
Storm watched him for a moment, then opened the bag, a bit relieved to see the pill bottles. "Is this going to last us?"
"Working on it," he answered again, just as curtly. Storm didn't need to be a telepath to realize he'd had a rough run, ever since they had been forced to live in the desert; not that she minded. She grew up in Africa, but for Logan and the professor, she knew they were miserable. She took the pills out of her pocket and placed them in his hand as well as the bag. "You give it to him; I'm cooking."
"Why don't I just take over the cooking, then?" Logan asked as she walked back to the kitchen. "He responds better to you."
"Why do you think that is?" Storm demanded, looking him in the eye. When he didn't respond, she turned back to the salad, not wanting to elaborate on all she did while he was on his runs. "Besides, we both agreed, I'd take care of him while you were away, and when you were here I'm on break."
Logan growled something under his breath, but turned to walk back toward the Professor "quarters". "You know, last night he told me he's communicating with someone."
"He's not talking to anyone, 'Ro," Logan replied simply.
"Don't be so sure," Storm countered smoothly, looking up and watching him as he grabbed something. "He has all these details… weren't you the one who told me that tank was supposed to act as a barrier of sorts?"
"Storm…" Logan growled his warning. Storm rolled her eyes, backing down for now as she watched him walk away.
"He's going to be asking questions!" She called after him. "Wouldn't surprise me if he tried reading your mind."
"That's what these are for," Logan called back, not bothering to look over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.
"Goddess, help me have patience with these men," Storm muttered under her breath as she walked toward the fridge and grabbed a beer for herself. She continued watching the door he had walked out of for a brief moment, touching her pocket for the item that would be the subject of tonight's dinner.
As she turned back to the counter to cook some chicken, she felt a wave knock into her head, freezing her in place for a brief second as she instinctively reached out to her powers. She had learned how to fight off the psychic waves ever since Charles's seizures started, however she had noticed that her defenses were becoming weaker as the seizures progressively got worse. She started to head for the door, hoping Logan was alright, when she felt the pressure fade away. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned against the post, knowing Logan had been able to stop it this time.
She debated whether or not to go check on them, then decided against it. Going back to the stove, she placed the cold chicken on a pan and watched it cook As she grabbed some seasoning and a lemon to put on Logan's plate.
He came in a moment later, placing the used plate on the sink. He then silently walked behind her and wrapped her in his embrace, nuzzling her neck for all of a moment. In that brief moment, she allowed the tensions of the day to be released and just faded into his embrace, but then he let go and walked into the bedroom they shared.
The wind rider sighed as she focused on the cooking, making sure to add extra lemon and ginger into his food. She knew he didn't like it, but she also knew something was seriously wrong. It started with his healing factor, and then his libido. It used to be that he would go hours making love to her, and now it seems like he barely had the energy for a quickie. Although, that could also be the alcohol fueling his tiredness.
Storm wiped her eyes as tears started to flood them. She knew she was losing him, both mentally and physically; just like she has nearly lost the Professor. The smell of smoke brought her out of her thoughts as she looked to see the chicken smoking. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, using a wind to carry away the smoke. Thankfully it was still edible, she would just have to add more flavoring to mask the taste a bit… something she was not entirely good at, but she would make do.
Storm had just finished placing dinner on the table when Logan came out. She could see that he was still in a mood, so she offered him a small smile as she placed his plate in front of him with a bottle of beer. "Burned the chicken again?" he asked after taking his first bite, his nose scrunching up a bit.
"How can you tell?" Storm asked sarcastically, sitting down right next to him, carefully cutting up the chicken.
"Over seasoned again," Logan responded calmly. She could feel his eyes on her, and she decided to ignore it for now. "Something bothering you today?"
"Do you have time for the list?" She asked, a small smile crossing her lips as she looked over at him.
"I think I can spare a minute," he replied, still eating.
"Well, there's the fact the dose is too low," she began. "Even if we up the dose manually, who knows how long it will last us."
"It's what the guy gave me," he replied, catching her eye. "I wasn't in a position to make demands."
"Logan," Storm said softly. "My defenses against his psychic waves aren't what they used to be… and we both know you're barely managing yourself when they hit—"
"It was barely a minute, Storm," Logan said gruffly, looking away from her. She knew he wanted this conversation to end, but she wasn't going to let him off that easy.
"What if next time it's longer?" Storm pressed. "We both know I can't control my powers under duress, and that tank is far from being an insulator should a lightning bolt strike." Logan still wouldn't look at her and she exhaled in frustration. "I also know you've got more money hidden away…"
"That money is going to get us out of this place," Logan interjected defensively.
"And where do you plan on taking us?" Storm demanded. "On a boat in the Pacific? I've seen the boats you were looking at, how long do you think it will be before I have a panic attack because I can barely move."
"I thought you were past it?"
"You know it sneaks up on me when I least expect it," Storm glowered, using all of her control not to lash out at him. "But do you honestly see us being happy with me always either below deck playing house wife or in the sky whenever I feel uneasy?"
Again, there was no response, so she decided to change the topic, praying he wouldn't get too upset. "And then there's this…" She reached into her pocket to pull out the bullet and place it on the table next to him. "Found it in your pocket when I was doing laundry." He snatched the bullet off the table and put it in his pocket. "Ever planned on telling me about it?"
"No," Logan answered gruffly, his jaw clenching a bit as he took another bite out of his meal. "I don't need this, 'Roro, especially not coming from you."
Storm sighed and placed her hand on his. "Logan… I just want to help you." She placed her hand on his cheek, cupping it gently before making him turn to her. "But… I can't if you don't talk to me." Logan closes his eyes at her touch, his breathing speeding up ever so slightly as he struggled with whatever decision he wanted to make.
"I'll be back later," Logan said abruptly, getting up and walking out the door. Storm sighed exasperatedly.
"We're not done talking about this," she called after him, watching as the door slam shut.
Logan took another sip of his beer as he parked the limo out front. A gentle rain was patting against the roof; he started wondering if this was Storm letting go of her emotions, or if it was actual rain. He knew she knew that there was something wrong; the looks she gave him, her gentle caresses when they were asleep; the seasoning and herbs in their food that were supposed to "heal" him. He couldn't bring himself to tell her though; to tell her he was dying.
Once he was inside, he headed toward the bedroom, where Storm was asleep on her side of the bed. He could smell the salt in the air, knowing she had once again cried herself to sleep. Taking off his shirt and jacket, he slid in behind her, carefully wrapping his arm around the goddess's waist, and resting his head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, 'Ro," he whispered in her ear. She shifted ever so slightly, but remained asleep. He gently stroked her cheek, watching her and listening to her soft breathing. After several minutes he finally drifted off to sleep.
A/N: So, I'm rarely on here anymore, but since I'm posting this on archive, might as well post on here as well. Just a small rewrite of Logan. I'm in a love/hate relationship with that movie right now. There were so many unanswered questions and some things that just didn't make any sense at all, so I'm hoping to clear that up. Definitely a Rolo/Loro thing going on here.
