Title: With the Wind
Rating: PG-13 for maybe one swear word or something. I think I
remember how these ratings work.
Summary: Ororo. Logan. Logan comes home after 8 months... My
first X-Men fan fic, so be kind!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the X-Men, the idea, or anything.
There.
Ororo Monroe laid in her queen size bed, rolling round in the white cotton sheets, trying to find some relief from the loud music flooding through the ceiling, into her room. Maybe if she somehow found a way to cover her head with her pillow hard enough so she couldn't hear the loud bass - and still breathe.
"This has to stop," Ororo finally muttered to herself, sitting up in bed and staring at the ceiling. She threw the covers back and slid off the mattress, grabbing her dark blue robe and pulling it on over her as she went. She'd have to quiet the party upstairs before Scott woke up and blew a fuse, which he had already done once or twice this summer when one of the kids held sleep overs, which Ororo herself had usually approved.
Opening the door to her room, Ororo winced. The music was getting louder. She'd have to hurry before Rogue overdid it. Silently she padded down the hallway in bare feet, climbing up the main stair case to where most of the students lived, fellow mutants such as herself and Rogue. Ororo made her way quickly to Rogue's door and knocked softly, chuckling to herself as she heard a sudden shriek by one of the girls and an immediate muting of the music. The door opened slowly.
"Rogue?" Ororo called softly, looking down at the smaller girl, white streaked brown hair pulled into a ponytail.
"Hi, Ms. Monroe," Rogue said quietly, instantly becoming shy when she had probably just been screaming and jumping around the room moments earlier.
"Rogue..." Ororo began, but the young woman cut her off.
"Ah'm so sorry," Rogue apologized. "Mr. Summers isn't up, is he?"
"No," Ororo said, smiling and shaking her head, knowing that if he was she wouldn't be the messenger. "I just want you to turn down the music a little. You know what happened the last time."
"Right," Rogue stated in her deep southern accent, pushing her long, white streaked brown hair from her face, revealing the worn dog tags she had hanging around her neck. "Ah never what that ta happen again."
"Okay," Ororo said, her eyes glancing down to the tags, remembering watching from afar as Logan gave them to the girl as a keepsake, or as a reason for him to come back. It had been eight months since Logan had left the mansion, heading to Canada, and that had been the last any one had heard of him. "Just remember that Mr. Summers might make something explode this time if he wakes up," Ororo added, dropping her voice to a secretive whisper, a smile hinting in her voice.
A grin spread across Rogue's face and she broke out into a fit of giggles. "Ah'll remember!"
"Goodnight, Rogue," Ororo said, letting the girl retreat back into her room, hushing the nervous laughter of her friends.
"Okay," Ororo said to herself, shaking her head, trying to uncover where her weariness had gone. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, she searched for any tiny shred of fatigue and found none. Sighing, she remembered the untouched essays she still had to grade. Two in the morning was as fine a time as any, Ororo thought to herself, heading down stairs to her classroom, gathering the essays, then making her way into the early September weather with her pen and grade book at hand.
Ororo plopped down in the wicker chair, propping her bare feet on the table in front of her. The porch light shone brightly, casting a pool of flourescent light around the porch in a neat circle, shimmering off Ororo's snow white hair.
Sighing, Ororo picked up her first essay, reading through it with quick efficiency, marking what was wrong with either fact or grammar, and putting checkmarks in the columns for bonus points. She made it through five essays before she became bored, finding her attention drifting away from the papers and settling on other thoughts.
Randomly, she thought of Logan's dog tags hanging around Rogue's neck, as though they were a collar claiming ownership. Rogue refused to part with them, and Ororo had caught her playing with them during class numerous times, her eyes fixed on them steadily. Everyone was beginning to wonder if Rogue had a secret fascination with Logan. When that man was concerned not many of the young girls at the institute would be happy with being treated like his kid sister. The man did reek mystery, something that a romantic like Rogue would find intriguing. Ororo couldn't blame the girl. After all, Logan had been a subject of her own fascination since he had left.
Ororo could not figure out why Logan had been on her mind for the several past months. She had barely even talked to him when he was at the mansion, let alone stay in his presence long enough to generate interest.
Perhaps that was why, Ororo thought to herself, pushing a few strands of unruly white hair out of her bright blue eyes. Or perhaps it was because seeing Scott and Jean in such a state of uncontrolled bliss was starting to get to her.
The two had been engaged to be married for nearly three months now, and the wedding was scheduled for early October. The two were so happy Ororo was finding it hard to be glad for them much longer, especially since it was becoming clearer that finding love for herself was going to be a challenge she didn't think she could go through. Increasingly she wondered what people didn't see in her that they saw in Jean. Obviously the tall red head had plenty of it, what ever it was. It was clear Ororo Monroe, or at least to Ororo, that she lacked some spark, some essential element that other women had in abundance. It had been years since her last kiss.
Even Logan had been caught up in Jean, which did not surprise her, but Ororo liked to think that she had been noticed as well. She remembered vividly the moment when she was formally introduced to him. His gaze slowed on her, his dark eyes wandering over her form, pausing as he took in her blinding white hair and exotic blue eyes. It had felt like an eternity as the Professor talked, introducing her to this new, untamed man. Logan's eyes could've been burning, the way they made her feel then. But then Jean entered the room and everything changed. The intensity shifted and she was again left to watch from the sidelines.
Ororo sighed, shaking the thoughts from her head. It was useless to think of these things now, and especially in accordance with Logan, she chided herself. If and when he ever came back his first focus would be Rogue, and then his second would be Jean, even if the woman didn't want it. Why Ororo thought Logan was the answer to her problems she didn't know, and she never wanted to find out. It would be best that way.
A swift wind picked up, breezing across the courtyard and ruffling the deep green leaves in the trees. Ororo lifted her head, surveying the change, sensing an incoming storm. She smiled and welcomed it, giddy with the knowledge that she could control that massive power coming her way, if only she wanted to. For today she would let nature take it's course. She would not meddle with what she did not need to.
She stood up and collected her papers, turning to open the glass door. Just when her hand touched the doorknob her heart stopped in her chest, or more literally, it started to speed up.
Ororo spun around, listening to the wind as it picked up speed, whistling around the house, down the road next to it. She could hear a noise under the wind, less powerful but equally loud, coming closer to the house each second.
In a flurry of motion, Ororo whipped open the door and deposited her papers on the table by the wall. Hurriedly, she left the house again, closing the door silently behind her and padding down the stone steps in her bare feet. Vaguely she realized that the soft thumping of the music in Rogue's room had stopped, and Ororo knew the children must have finally fallen asleep.
She could hear it better now. The soft growling of a motor coming down the road, growing louder as it neared the house. Ororo walked down the side of the huge mansion, feeling the first few drops of rain splatter around her, on her arms and snow white hair.
Then she saw. Through the tree-lined drive, there was a motorcycle gunning its way to the mansion, the figure of a dark haired man atop it, controlling the bike easily. Ororo stared in shock, realizing what was happening. The bike was surely Scott's, the precise one Logan had stolen months ago. No other could move that fast.
Ororo stopped walking, instead content to watch the bike slow as it reached the driveway for the garage. She pressed one hand against the brick of the building, pulling her blue robe closer to her as the wind picked up again, tangling in her hair.
On the other side of the wall, the garage door began to open quietly, a low whir betraying it's movement. Ororo slid closer, watching the motorcycle climb up the drive way, making it's way into the garage. There was no question about who this was. Ororo didn't even have to speculate. She didn't have to since she first heard the storm. She just knew.
Ororo closed her eyes and hesitantly took a step forward, rounding the corner and opening her eyes, watching the dark figure get off the bike, pausing with his back turned to her.
"Hey, 'Ro," he mumbled silently, turning halfway to glance at her over his shoulder.
Ororo stared at him, taking a small step into the garage, avoiding an oil spot. "Logan," she said cordially, her eyes holding him to her warmly. "You're soaked," she commented, noticing the dripping water coming off his leather jacket and wild dark hair.
"Thanks for noticing," Logan smirked, turning around to look at her fully, letting his eyes graze over her form fitting sleek robe.
Ororo gave him a small smile and stood awkwardly in the garage, unsure of what to say next.
"So, no welcome party?" Logan asked gruffly, throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder and beginning to walk to the door. Ororo followed him quickly, walking into the house after him.
"Well, it is after two in the morning," Ororo said reasonably.
Logan chuckled to himself, running a dirty hand through his dark hair, flicking rain drops everywhere. "Thought Jean and her abilities might have picked me up earlier."
Ororo frowned. Already mention of Jean, she thought with hidden annoyance. She knew that this would happen.
"Why are you up?" He asked, shedding his soaked leather coat and throwing it on the back of a chair as they entered the kitchen.
"Rogue had a little slumber party and the music was a bit loud," Ororo explained delicately, watching Logan open the fridge, finding a beer in the back and twisting the top off.
"Huh," Logan nodded, bringing the beer to his mouth and gulping thirstily.
"Aren't you going to ask about her?" Ororo asked, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching Logan quietly, her fascination rising to a new level.
"She's okay, ain't she?" Came the gruff reply.
"Of course," Ororo answered, stepping out of his way as he brushed past. She didn't have to be able to read minds to tell that something was wrong. Logan had been rough before but now he just looked tortured.
"May I ask what happened?" Ororo said, watching Logan shake the water out of his hair. "Rather you wouldn't," Logan answered, turning to lean on the kitchen table, frowning at the beer. "What is this shit?"
"It's some of Scott's," Ororo replied, walking over and snatching the beer from him, checking the brand name just to be sure.
Logan shook his head and laughed quietly. "Ole' One Eye," he muttered. "Figures."
Ororo handed the beer back and retreated to her side of the table, putting her hands on her hips and watching the man. Perhaps she should start counting down to when she had to tell him Scott and Jean were to be married in October. She was tiring of small talk.
"Logan," she began, but he cut her off easily, ripping through her with his dark eyes.
"I just don't wanna talk about it, Storm." Logan growled, using her code name. "Get off it, would you?"
Ororo stood still, looking at Logan with surprise.
"I see," she said, walking to the door, making up her mind. "Well, your room is clean. Jean has made sure that it's in prime condition for your habitation when you finally returned to us," Ororo said, pausing at the door. "You may want to talk to the Professor first thing tomorrow," she added. "You can tell him your sob story then."
"'Ro," Logan began, sighing and roughly running a hand through his hair.
"Good night, Logan." It's was Ororo's turn to cut him off, secretly happy that she at least had that power. "Welcome back."
With that she pushed through the kitchen door and made her way down the hall, making sure to pick up the essays she had dumped on the table in her haste to see if the wind had truly brought Logan home. Ororo stalked up the stairs to her room, pushing the door open and closing it quietly behind her. Silently, she sat on the bed, crossing her legs Indian-style and began to read the next essay, frowning through the entire thing. Finally, she tossed it down, unable to concentrate.
Goddess, she was such a fool. Things would only be worse now with Logan back, and she didn't know if she could handle that. It would just be another thing to force her back into the woodwork. Ororo sighed and watched as the clouds racing up on the mansion broke, letting loose a torrent of late summer rain.
"Yes," Ororo said, scenting the startling smell of ozone. "Let it rain."
