Face Into The Wind
By Minarya
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters. Marvel does. Try not to go into shock.
A/N: This is the second story in a series, following Silver Lining. This is movieverse, blended with comic elements. Storm has blue eyes, darn it! And many thanks to everyone for their feedback ... I can't tell you how encouraging it is! This is my first time taking a shot with action, so please go kindly with me ...
Your sad songs ring heaven
Here's a call for you
So don't let it fall into
Your frail dreams of horror
Life lies and shattered blows
Calling out, you're famous ...
- from Hermes Bird, by Remy Zero
We don't need you, Logan.
Scott was focused on going through the preflight check from the pilot's seat, not sparing a glance behind him to see how his comment was being received. He was moving quickly, but as thoroughly as always, brow furrowed in concentration. Time was of the essence ... the Professor had obtained information on the activities of a growing mutant hate group, the Friends of Humanity. Unrest was brewing in a New York town, around an alleged business area, and Charles feared a riot would break out. He asked her and Scott to go quell any violence before it started, but Logan had insisted on coming along. Ororo suspected he was just itching for a little action.
Aw, Cyke, you'd miss me if I wasn't here. Ororo shot him an exasperated look from the co-pilot's seat as she adjusted her headset. Logan merely flexed his hands in the tight leather gloves, and winked back at her.
Satisfied everything was in order, Scott locked in his restraints and fired up the engines. But this isn't going to be some back room brawl, Logan. We're not going in, guns blazing. Hopefully all we'll need is a sudden windstorm from our resident weather goddess. She glanced at him sharply ... she hated when people called her that. He kept his eyes trained on the sky as he maneuvered the Blackbird higher, but he grinned tightly in apology, knowing she'd see it.
Yeah, well, I'm sure you got it all under control, but just in case, I've got your back. His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and she heard Logan unsheathe his claws for effect.
Ororo admonished. She was smiling, as she knew Logan was just giving Scott a hard time, but she didn't need to take care of a riot inside the plane as well. Besides, she needed to focus, gather her energy. If she played this right, the others might not even need to leave the Blackbird.
Sorry, She raised her eyebrows at that, mildly surprised at his quick acquiescence. But she wasn't about to push her luck.
It was only a 20-minute flight, and thankfully the rest of it was spent in relatively comfortable silence. As she concentrated on gathering her power to her, walking that unsettling edge of holding it at bay while keeping it within her reach, Ororo idly wondered what Scott and Logan really thought of each other now. Something had shifted after Scott and Jean's wedding, but did Logan truly accept that Jean was off limits? Or did he simply enjoy pushing Scott's buttons from time to time?
But the question that really gnawed at her ... the one she had not yet faced after that one, wonderful night on her balcony ... was he really ready to move on?
Ororo, look at this. Scott's terse voice interrupted her thoughts. The Blackbird still hovered a good distance away, but with her own eyes she could see several fires lapping viciously at the night sky, and the sensors indicated more than a hundred people gathered on the suburban streets. By their movements, it appeared some of those people were unwilling participants.
We're gonna need a lot more than a sudden thunderstorm, Logan had moved up behind her seat, his voice tight and controlled.
Scott had found a small clearing in the nearby woods and was busy lowering the plane carefully even as he formulated their plan. OK, Storm, you worry about putting out the fires. Stay out of sight, if you can. I don't need you to become a target. Logan, we'll work on getting those civilians free. They seem to be gathered in those two areas. In full leader mode, Scott nodded his head at the screen as he locked down the Blackbird.
The trio moved in silence to gather at the hatch. Waiting for it to lower, Ororo took a deep, steadying breath. Her vision grew a little hazy as she felt storm clouds quickly gathering above them, the rain forming, awaiting her command.
With a soft thud, the door was open. Floating eerily to them through the heavy darkness of the trees were distant shouts, screams. Angry laughter. Scott looked at them both, giving a quick nod and checking his visor's settings before melting into the solemn woods.
Ororo and Logan followed him down the steps in tense silence. Just before Logan disappeared into the night, he squeezed her shoulder. She met his dark, unreadable gaze briefly. Be careful, he muttered. The kind words startled her a little, but she merely nodded, attention focused on the skies.
Then he too was gone. She cast one more look at the blackness that had swallowed them up, and she took to the skies.
*****
Ororo cleared the woods before they did, aided by her winds. Despite the fact that she knew what to expect, the scene still looked like something out of a nightmare ...
She was no empath, but she didn't need to be one to feel the intense anger rolling off these men who were clogging the ordinary street. Lashing out at everything around them, they shattered car windows, store fronts ... a deli, an electronics store, a photography studio ... running red spray paint coated brick, glass, cement in hateful symbols and words. Ororo felt her stomach roll a little, and she closed her eyes briefly, bringing her emotions tightly under control.
Immediately she set to work putting out the fires - three separate ones, thankfully all on one side of the street. She focused on keeping the drenching rain and snow away from the rioters, hoping to give Scott and Logan time to assess the hostage situation. For hostages they definitely were, she could see now. Owners of the businesses being set on fire, most likely ... or unlucky passers-by. And the FoH had weapons ... torches and firearms. Ororo blocked the ugly, anti-mutant chants from her mind as she worked swiftly.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Scott and Logan infiltrate the group as she worked on putting out the last, stubborn blaze. It was thrilling to see the teamwork they strove so hard for pay off as the two men worked effortlessly in tandem, feeding off each other's moves. Despite the rainstorm, no one had thought to look for an attack from above. Most of the mob hadn't noticed the X-Men's presence, and they were using it to their advantage. Scott kept his optic beams on minimal power, breaking up smaller groups of attackers as Logan whisked the freed hostages off the street.
Once the fires were taken care of, Ororo turned her attention to her teammates. She had had to keep her winds at bay, lest she fan the fires, but now that danger had passed. She would have to expose her presence in order to help them, but they wouldn't be able to stay anonymous much longer, anyway, as Scott and Logan moved deeper into the throng. she murmured.
She raised herself up on her air currents, moving behind Scott and Logan quickly to clean up what they left behind. Sweeping gusts rushed toward the pavement, launching FoH members off their feet, sending their weapons clattering away from them, rendered harmless. At the first blast of wind, Logan looked up at her, teeth bared and eyes dark, but his attention was ripped back to the chaos in front of them as he was forced to dodge a bullet. Ororo focused her attention back on the riot - things were escalating quickly. The bulk of the FoH remained despite their efforts, and now they were fully aware the X-Men were there.
Ororo lost herself to the rhythm of the fight ... moving between offense and defense seamlessly. Now that Scott and Logan had all the hostages free, she added ice to her arsenal, sending the FoH tumbling and cursing to the ground. She didn't have time to check on her teammates, but the crowd appeared to be thinning. She smiled to herself. Soon, this would be over, and they could go home ...
But then, in an instant, it all exploded. A crimson energy beam suddenly screamed past her. She turned to find Cyclops, and froze in mid-air. A new group had appeared out of nowhere, about 30 men, encircling the mob. But these people were military, or at least pretending to be, and they were wielding very large, powerful energy weapons. At her. Another beam narrowly missed her head and jolted her back into action.
Ororo rode her winds swiftly down to street level, weaving in the air and trying to make herself less of a target. Subtlety be damned, she thought wryly, focusing her winds around her and redirecting them in force toward their attackers as she desperately searched for her teammates. Where did they go?
Logan's shout through the communicator behind her ear made her flinch. Scott's down! Eight o'clock!
Ororo swung her head to her left and behind her, spotting them taking shelter under the eaves of one of the buildings. Logan crouched in front of an apparently unconscious Scott, hiding him as best he could. Sending the most powerful wind blast she could manage toward their attackers, she raced over to them. She knew she was blowing their cover, but there was no choice.
Get him on the plane, Logan growled, pushing Ororo behind him.
Come with us! He couldn't hold off that many men, with weapons. Her mind spun, desperately trying to come up with another solution as she wrapped her arms under Scott's shoulders, securing him. Blood caked the back of his head and she could see burn marks across the exposed skin of his chest. Ororo averted her eyes.
You need cover. Go! Logan bellowed.
And even as she heard the renewed shouts of the men as they discovered their hiding place, she knew he was right. She went.
Flying while carrying another person was tricky at best, especially when that person was a dead weight, but Ororo didn't have time to dwell on it. Her winds pushed them over the treetops as the noise of battle waged on behind her. The sounds of Logan's snarling ripped through her gut, and the clash of metal on metal almost made her dizzy. If he was using his claws, that meant he was fighting hand to hand.
Ororo impatiently punched the code outside the Blackbird, the hatch seeming to take an eternity to open. She shifted Scott in her arms, half-carrying, half-dragging him on board when it finally did open. Her footsteps sounded tiny on the metal, her hearing dulled by the earlier fight.
Murmuring what she hoped were comforting words to Scott, who was floating in and out of consciousness, she hastily wrapped gauze around his head and abdomen ... oh, Goddess, she hadn't noticed the bullet wound in his arm! ... no time, no time ... She strapped Scott securely onto the bed, silently willing Logan to come barreling onto the plane after them ... what was taking him so long?!
Ororo raced back out to the edge of the woods, pausing to scan the woods desperately as she ripped the communicator off her belt and to her lips.
she screamed into it.
She strained her ears for a response, even though she knew she would be able to hear a whisper through the sensitive equipment.
Unless he couldn't hear her.
Damn it, Logan! Answer me! Fear was coloring her voice, but she couldn't help it. She could hardly hear anything coming from the battle area, and if Logan wasn't answering her ...
She swallowed hard against that line of thought. She would have to go back to get him, that's all. He needed her help, because he was too preoccupied to even speak to her ...
This time she raced through the woods, hoping against hope she still would run into him making a break for the plane, afraid she would miss him if she were flying. She couldn't hear anything outside of her own panicked breathing, made even louder in the oppressive darkness. But when she finally emerged from the trees, fury slammed through her.
Logan apparently had been making his way toward the woods, but now he was nearly overwhelmed. Bleeding and burned, he was on one knee, lashing out at those who got too close, screaming curses and hurling insults. He had disarmed the ones closest to him, leaving them with only their taunts ... obviously they didn't comprehend how much danger they would be in once his healing factor allowed him to stand ... but Ororo could see more closing in on him quickly, weapons raised. Lifting off the ground once again, she dove toward his attackers, lightning dancing around her outstretched hand and fire burning in her eyes.
What the fuck! One of the men spat even as the small group backed off a couple paces. She knew she made a formidable sight, surrounded by the power of the storm, and she was filled with righteous fury.
She touched down in front of Logan, protecting him this time as the reinforcements arrived, their weapons now trained on her. Logan snarled her name from behind her, but there was no time to wonder why.
Her mind raced over their options. The best she could do was buy Logan time to heal. If she turned to help him, she would be exposing both of them. If she took to the air, she'd be even more of a target, and leave him unprotected. She was holding the attackers back with her winds, but she was nearly exhausted herself, and she was running out of choices short of calling lightning down on their heads. And killing was not an option she would consider, though of course they had no way of knowing that.
Suddenly, she sensed Logan stand up, just a few inches behind her, his harsh breath beating against the back of her neck.
Don't touch me, Logan, she hissed, the lightning still coursing through her body.
Then let's go, His voice sounded pained, and she fought the urge once again to release her lightning. As she and Logan started to back up toward the woods, she could hear police sirens approaching in the distance. Good - they would take care of the remaining FoH, most of whom had already started to disperse at the noise. Ororo noted that most of the men dressed in fatigues had left as well, apparently not willing to face local authorities.
The distraction was all they needed. It was time to run.
Releasing the pent-up lightning into the skies over their heads, she and Logan took off under the blinding flash. He was limping slightly, but seemed to be getting stronger with every step, putting distance between them and the shouting and sirens.
Ororo could have reached out and touched the trees when she heard the scream of a laser blast, then felt Logan shove her to the ground. Her breath rushed out of her in a loud gasp with the impact, and she turned her head just in time to see him being thrown off of her and into the trunk of a thick oak. He fell with a sickening thud, a gaping wound in his chest.
Her scream came out as more of a whisper as she fought to regain her breath. Ororo whirled around. Furious and frustrated, she faced their attacker, her lightning once again coursing through her veins and culminating on her fingertips, eager to be set free. She felt as if she were standing outside of herself ... as if every inch of her was on fire ...
They stared at each other for a long, timeless moment. He was a nondescript man. Six feet tall, brown hair, brown eyes. He was older, in his 50s maybe, and his lips were twisted in a sneer. She knew that look. The lines in his face had been etched with years of hatred, and he felt superior, because he carried a weapon of destruction in his hands.
You're a pretty one, he rasped, blatantly ogling her. They might not kill you. Least not right away.
My death will not come at the hands of the likes of you, Ororo grated out, pouring every ounce of the goddess into her words. This must be a very stupid man, making such comments to a woman who commanded lightning.
Come on, baby. You don't need this freak. He gestured toward Logan's still body with his energy weapon. She didn't blink. I can show you what a real man can do ... He licked his lips, waving his weapon at her as if he actually expected her to follow him.
Logan moaned quietly, low and labored. The fury flared again inside her, and her instincts demanded she unleash her anger on this man.
This is your birthright, Ororo ... a nameless voice called from her soul ... The power of life and death ... to power to avenge ... to put an end to hatred and violence and pain ...
For an endless moment she stood on the edge, watching his glittering, small eyes grow a little fearful through the electricity growing between them ... but at the last instant she released it into the ground instead of through his black heart, the explosion sending him hurtling high into the air. She didn't stop to see where, or how, he landed. It didn't matter. That was in the Goddess' hands now.
she cried out, crouching by his side and skimming her hands over his wounds. Logan, please wake up! I do not think I can carry you. She sounded desperate, but she told the truth. She was running on adrenaline alone now. The police had arrived, she could hear, but some of the FoH were scattering. It was only a matter of time before someone found them, or found the Blackbird.
'Ro ... he moaned again. She bit her lip. There was no choice.
Tugging on his arm, she somehow managed to drag him to his feet. His heavy weight settled against her side, and her knees almost buckled beneath her ... Goddess, how much did he weigh?
I need your help, Logan, she whispered fiercely as she moved them into the woods, agonizingly slow. Come on!
He didn't answer her, but after a few steps she felt him take a little of his weight off of her. She wished she could scoop him up as she had Scott and take to the skies, but she really wasn't sure she could support him, and Goddess forbid she should drop him.
After what seemed an eternity, the black hull of the Blackbird finally loomed before them. Ororo murmured a silent thanks that in her haste she had foolishly left the hatch open. Logan collapsed as soon as they limped inside and she removed her arm from his waist, but she had to leave him there.
Two of the most important men in her life were lying unconscious and bleeding a few feet from her, and she couldn't help them. Breathe, Ororo, focus, she chanted in her mind ...
She wouldn't clearly remember how she piloted the plane back. She was certified to fly it, certainly, but Scott didn't allow anyone to touch it while he was around.
And he was always around.
Except for this time ...