A/N: So much for an epilogue. Just call this the next chapter.
Heads up: Some Rolo in this chapter and even an (older) Kitty makes an appearance!
Don't expect any certain time lines to correlate with the comics, as I just take general knowledge and use it at my whims...

Disclaimer: Marvel Owns the motherload, no profits are had.

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Friday night had come; a time to lay low the cares of the week. Classes were over, the battles had been fought and some much needed downtime was upon the occupants of the Xavier institute. Where Ororo Munroe was concerned, it presented a way to be with thoughts; nagging and self loathing as they might have been. Tonight, she shunned normal forms of conventionalism.

She packed menial supplies; a tent, sleeping bag, and a small purse that housed other little things. A light patch of snowfall had descended, enough to keep the masses indoors, but was no concern to the woman of which the elements wielded their whims. Picking out a spot deep into the tree line right on the bank of the lake and clearing it, she set up her tent and then spread out her sleeping bag landing on it with a ceremonial plop. It was few more minutes of rustling that a small blanket, journal and IPOD were produced. Everything was bathed in moonlight, casting an ethereal glow on the landscape. What a Wonderful World began to play on the shuffle, and as much as she loved that tune, her somber mood wasn't thinking on how wonderful things were. It was replaced with Mercy Street. Definite mood music.

She pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam
She pictures a soul with no leak at the seam...

...Nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey
Nowhere in the suburbs, in the cold light of day.....There in the midst of it so alive and alone
words support like bone....

On a Sunday afternoon, a bomber walked into The Ad'Badan Hotel in El Qahira and blew it to kingdom come. After seeing her mom die in a dragged out fashion from injuries then ultimately lack of oxygen under rubble for hours, consternation and hysteria reigned before the four year old passed out. Now awake, it was to find out no one else survived.
Between the nightmares that came in flashes, a revealing that she had something to do with it all was her undoing. Twenty years had passed carrying the burden of knowing it. Feeling it. Dealing with it. She unleashed a tempest killing thousands. Over twenty years of never knowing she had an accomplice that split the ground open and swallowed up the other half of the dead; an unlikely sister who shared in the pain of loosing her family.

Ayesha, as her name happened to be, had an interesting outlook on forgiving herself from that day. She had faith a higher source already had. While Ororo found that a solace then, the time given to rethink everything had convinced her it wasn't that simple. You just don't kill thousands and then feign the Goddess for loving mercy.

….Mercy….

It mirrored the charge of people who couldn't bear responsibilities or, by lack of a better expression, was a flat cop-out. And Ororo was no cop-out. Never really took the easy way out. Held up responsibility almost to a blinding fault. But she was different, made of alternate elements. Not like her unlikely sister borne in distress.
She recalled Ayesha's mantra, the glint in her violet eyes and the rain that beaded down her dreads as she spoke in her low accented English with nothing but conviction. These were her realities, her words.

Allah is merciful. Allah is forgiving. Allah Is compassionate... or maybe it's your Goddess....

Sometimes I wonder if Ahamed was condemned to j'hinom, suffering so.
It never made sense to me that someone who barely lived fifteen years of sins should pay an eternity for them....
And then of course, he probably was under Farouk's mind-control. Even if man's petty laws can make case for the unstable, then why are we taught the all knowing and the all seeing can't judge the truly condemned? If there is true forgiveness, true compassion, and true mercy shown to us, then why can't we forgive ourselves?

....Dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again.....

Mercy…
Mercy...

She felt a solitary tear running down looking through old news paper clippings chronicling that fateful day; she had kept them in the back of her journal pocket. A vigil maybe? Recompense? Devastation, charred streets, screams and fear of darkness never needed to be reminded where she was concerned, for it lived on the very edge of her being. Especially without inhibitors to block them. It's not so easy to forget. Not so easy to forgive.

Dreaming of Mercy...

As the music faded into darkness, the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow beyond the woods peaked her attentions. Pausing the IPOD, and tucking all the nostalgias away, she waited. Footsteps faded (most likely reaching the area she cleared) replaced by whiffs of smoke. Cigar smoke to be exact.

"Spying on me?"

Her voice was low, almost serious as she turned pulling the headphones away. He stood with a tipped hat diverting his eyes, taking a long pull from the cigar. He was clothed in his Stetson, tight fitting jeans that outlined ever crescent of muscle and a warn in leather jacket. The crisp scent of snow mixed with a faint lull of aftershave told her he hadn't been out like she thought. He lowered his smoke, pulled his cowboy hat back, and met her with a dark gaze.

"More like Admirin'."

Even though her mutation shunned the sensations of cold, Ororo lifted up the small blanket. She only wore a sheer silk slip that left little to the imagination. Even though Logan had seen and touched her on more then a enough occasions, it still didn't change the fact that her mind had been millions of miles away from earth. She felt the sudden pull of irritation at being invaded as he raised a suggestive eyebrow in her direction, and proceeded to sit Indian style on the edge of her sleeping bag. No, they weren't on the same page. Not right now ad least.

"Gumbo said ya might be out here. Everyone took off to Harry's fer a few drinks. Weeks been hell."

"Harry's. Sounds like your kind of place. Why didn't you join them?"

She was now laying flat on her back, head propped by her hands, looking straight up at the stars. Logan took in the way her sapphire eyes glistened off the eternal glow of moonlight; her hair, sprawled out in organized disarray equally as bright. The contours of her skin beyond the blanket outlined the shape of feminine beauty begot only in poems and epics of old. How he longed to take every inch of her in his arms and remove all traces of sadness that had been brewing there for the better part of the last few months, but somehow, each time, she retreated donning her Ice Queen demeanor. She wore it with a firebrand now, purposely defiant to make eye contact. But tonight, that wasn't going to fly.

" 'Cause I'd rather be with my woman."

"That's a nice gesture. Maybe we can plan something tomorrow---"

" I was thinkin' bout something now."

Reluctantly breaking her stargazing, she found Logan staring with purpose. A dangerous glint lining them.

"'Ro, you've been avoidin' me fer months now, not speaking to anyone beyond missions an' work - well except fer Gumbo..."his teeth clenched after that admonition,
"And I'm not dealin' with this no more. You got somethin' botherin' ya then yer goin' to tell me. Even if I have to wretch the truth by force…..Yer goin' to give me somethin'....."

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"Well you're sure talkin' to Swamp Rat fine enough."

"Remy's my brother. Always will be. Get off it, Logan."

"And who am I? Nobody?"

As she refused to dignify that with a response, Logan felt a sudden surge of annoyance. In a flash, he was over her, one hand effectively pinning her arms above her head in a captive stance. She arched at his touch leaving the little blanket to fall away and a bounty of caramel breasts open to observation. Logan sated a sharp stab of arousal that surfaced deep in his gut. She was being damn difficult and looking more unlikely-wanton then ever. Her diaphragm heaved gently in and out, but forlorn pain vexed her eyes as she relaxed against his visage. He wondered what could have gotten to her in such a bad way and now was a matter of urgency to get to the bottom of it, well before he burst.

"I'm sorry Logan. I've not been fair to you. If you need your physical needs met---"

He couldn't deny that moment his little head was taking over his big one, but still felt a forceful sting and disturbing mental slap from her words. They're relationship had never been a public spectacle, like that of Scott or Jean, but more so a private understanding between to consenting adults acting like adults with no drama attached, but for her to think so little of herself, so little of him, he physically winced at that thought.

Ororo was so much to him he could never verbalize and maybe if he had taken the time to tell her instead of being such an arrogant ass, she wouldn't have said that. It literally felt like a knife was taken and out came a little piece of his heart. He wondered how much more pain she felt by the look on her face.

"God, Ro. Don't think that. Don't degrade us like that…."

Degrade. That was the only term he could think of for her seeing their physical relationship as nothing more then animalistic magnetism. It pissed him off just thinking about it….

She clenched her eyes unable to look at him.

"Look at me, 'Ro."

She kept them shut, shame building. In a quick stride, he drew her deep into his arms. Ororo could feel the heat permeating as embraced her around the waist, leaning into the wall of his chest; her head resting on the his shoulder. He caressed her hair; the feel of his fingertips lingering on her forehead as she felt a shiver of tenderness run through like wildfire. The other hand was stroking the flesh of her abdomen as she eased into his touch, his faint breath touching her earlobe.

"It's okay, 'Ro. You didn't mean that."
He paused. Her body language confirmed she didn't and he breathed a bit easier.

" Please darlin' open those baby blues. Tell me what's plaguin' my beautiful Goddess."

Her eyes opened and were met with his captivating grey orbs. Only the most pure undiluted sense of understanding and love lurked behind them taking the shame of her awful words with it. When she decided to speak, it was low and hushed as he continued to caress her.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Totally out of line, not really me…."

"No, it's outta line that you even thought it in the first place. And my fault for not lookin' past myself and telling ya…."

His touch slowly stopped, and Ororo could feel his body tensing slightly. She felt a deep knowing in her gut, almost waiting for it, for the words to come.

"Tell me what?"

"That the day I see you as anything but…. What you are…. is the day I admit Scott is right……on anything."

He a felt slight movement, a contained chuckle vibrate onto his stomach, that of her finding humour in the thought of Logan's suggestions.

"And what am I?" She was asking as her head tilted back onto his chest, and catching in more stars.

He stopped at the loaded question.
Loyalty. Friendship. Brilliance. Understanding. Essence. Motivation. Reason. Passion. Meaning. Calm. Light.
Those were just a few of the many things that came to mind. There was so much more. Now he wondered if the words would come of if they would ever be enough.
If there was diction to explain it to her. He pulled in a breath passing in more silence then was meant to lapse. Ororo bobbed her head slightly to meet him.

"Wow, that much, huh?"

He relaxed, looking down at her, a faint smile emerging.

"Yeah. Words can't describe it Ro."

She maneuvered back so she wasn't arching her head anymore, and sighed.

"I guess that means I'm ad least good company."

"You know it darlin."

Without warning, she changed course.

"You.... know the feeling... of not being able to forgive yourself on something you had no control over... don't you?"

Logan pondered a moment over her inquiry, somehow feeling this might lead into the mysterious situation 'Ro wasn't willing to talk about just a bit ago.

"Not really. If I had no control over it, then I can forgive myself easier. Now over the things I can control, that's a different story..." Logan trailed, apparently thinking more then he said, "It's kinda like playin' God and I don't do that."

Perplexed, she responded, "What do you mean?"

"When you live as long as I do, you learn to pick yer battles. Yer guilt's, how ya cope with 'em. Sometimes yer at fault, other times nature takes over. While you can let both burn you inta the ground, the ladder shouldn't. Sometimes things happen that are beyond us. Who's ta say we even have a choice preventin' what happens in the first place?"

Silence fell. Ororo gazed at the heavenly bodies, suddenly feeling insignificantly small and menial in her skin.
She knew Logan was plagued with shredded memories courtesy of the Weapon X program that used him as a killing machine, ultimately against his will. He also contended with the very essence of being a feral mutant, always on the edge of sanity, and doubled with his healing factor, had to live the reality of bloodshed, voluntary and involuntary, a lot longer then anyone else. How Wolverine managed to function serving a man's dream of passive means to deal with people who degraded him so horribly was a modern-day miracle. Better yet, it was more amazing here he sat, stroking and tending her mental anguish while being reminded of his own. She was being unreasonably selfish, and wanted to punt herself for it.

"Yer beautiful, 'Ro. Inside and out. Whatever's got you doubtin' that don't deserve yer tears or time. As many people as you saved bein' an X-Men.... hell, just bein' you.... considerate, carin', beyond this world's good graces... that's what counts. Let the rest of everything else go... let it go, Darlin."

Ororo felt a splash of tears falling down her cheek at his tender words. She sent a silent prayer heaven-ward and decided to bury her self-loathing once again. The ache was present, ever phishing deep, but his words brought control to the inferno; placed back on the fringe from where they threatened to descend.

She faced him, locking him in an big embrace, tossing the Stetson aside and digging her hands into his wolfish locks before pulling in for a deep kiss. Responsively, he hoisted her in his lap. It was an urgent gesture, reaffirming the intimacy of the moment and almost in fear that any open space could carry it away. Reluctantly, he sated a deep breath as she ended the passionate gesture, a smile appearing. Logan recanted it had been months since he saw it.

"Thank you...." she paused, thinking back on his speechless declaration minute ago. She knew what he meant. It was communication through silence. She felt it too, but decided to reaffirm it on her own.

"I love you too Logan." And she did. No qualms.

A look of complete adulation and joy registered. He pulled her in for a commanding kiss.

"I love ya."

With the barrier of words conquered, he held her close, reveling in the touch of bare flesh crushed against him. Desire started lurking upwards, and by the change of pace in her chemistry, he could sense she felt the same. His hands ran down the contours of her back, pulling her slip further away from her body.

"Now that that's sorted, bout those physical needs...let me meet yers."

She nipped his neck in response.

***********

It was nearly ten thirty when Logan and Ororo had made it back to the mansion. The night was filled with discussion, lovemaking, stargazing, and more lovemaking. Ororo had flown them on the balcony, reaching her loft to drop off the supplies but not before indulging in a shower (that reluctantly turned cold under their passions and forced them out), and eventually dressed for the day. Another hour easily vanished before they made it down to the kitchen, greeted by the other late riser who let the morning fade into the dust.

"Well mes ami, 'bout time you two showed up." Remy looked on at his beloved padnat.

"Good Morning, Brother." She walked over and kissed him on the forehead.

Logan grunted, but it didn't hold the usual tenor of annoyance and judging by the good spirits she was in, he smirked.
After the excursion in Canada, he remembered a good many nights playing the unlikely therapist, understandably so. But as fate would have it, Logan wasn't as understanding. If Remy roamed a mile every time a threat was issued, he'd be orbiting round the Shi'ar Empire by now. A plethora of Whatcha doin to my woman? -If you don't tell me now, I'ma gut ya speeches ruined more then enough evenings of his life, and as much as he loved his Stormy and would walk blind through fire to keep her confidences, it came to a head like all situations involving Logan usually do. So he laid it on her: set it straight or a slew of misfortunes i.e. - sugar in the Harley tank, set-charges on every Cuban - might ensue. Apparently she came to believe a feral lover and dead best friend wouldn't help find peace of mind so….mission accomplished.

In a possessive lull, Logan walked up, taking her hand and moving her over behind the counter with him. He opened the fridge, pulling out some ingredients amounting to eggs, veggies, milk, butter and sausage and plopped them on the island.

"Whatcha want to eat Darlin? I can whip up a great southwestern omelet, maybe vegetarian...."

She smiled at him, glowing. It wiped all tension as he pulled her in for a kiss with the intention of deliberately pissing off the Cajun. Instead, Remy smirked. He wasn't a fan of Logan, but there had been worse, like whatshisface...... yeah. That douche. There was no excuse for him.
Ad least Logan could blame his hulking stupidity on feral mutation in line with all the other annoying idiosyncrasies he possessed.

As he finally pulled away, (as the fading thought getta room came to mind) the sound of another voice came from behind, one familiar, and laced with a distinct southern draw. He liked that draw…

"Look what tha cat dragged in...."

Rogues announcement was cut short when Kitty phased through her, causing curses to fly forth and then a reply of "be thankful you don't have bionic limbs" before making a beeline in direction to the fridge.

"ORORO!"

Her hands flared as she clamored her in a big fat embrace. Ororo reciprocated kissing her forehead, laughing heartily.

"Hello Kitten! Good to see you back from London!"

After a few minutes, she released her, likely hit with the revelation there were other people the room.

"Oh, Logan. Remy. Good to see you guys too."

Logan chuckled. " We all see who won the popularity contest round here....Good to have ya back, half-pint. I trust all is in order over the pond."

"Yeah, of course. Duh!" Her voice hit a high tenor that remained endearing.

"So, how long you be here for, little one? Did Kurt come wit' you?"

The question came from Remy at the table. Rogue had taken the seat next to him and was picking off the remnants of sausage smothered in hot sauce, apparently leftovers from a late breakfast. He was giving her suggestive stairs as she rolled her eyes. It was good to see familiarity, Kitty thought lovingly.

It had been nearly a year since her and Kurt had left to join the ranks of Excalibur. Ororo took in the way Kitty searched the island for something to eat, and settled on some carrots Logan had pulled out from fridge minutes earlier. She replied between chews.

"No, he stayed behind. Brian and he were training some new recruits. One being a telepath, from Tel Aviv. I remembered that because I thought it would be cool having another Jewish person around - and someone else I didn't meet, but anyway - " Ororo arched an eyebrow as Kitty spouted on in her youthful vigor.

"I'm only here for the weekend. I know you can guess why....."
Kitty eyed the room, seeing if anyone would catch on.
Ororo finally did.

"Oh, it's your birthday!"

Kitty beamed. "See there's a reason I loved you first. Since it seems no one else remembered…."

"Or cared," came from a grumbled Remy.
It followed with a "hey, outta sight, outta mind" acceptation from Rogue. Kitty glared at them both before continuing.

" Besides, Logan," she looked up at him with big wide brown eyes, the eyes that spoke trouble and mischief, "You promised to take me for my first legal drink. I was thinking we could go into the city and celebrate properly. Of Course Ororo is coming too...."

Logan chuckled. "Properly? Now yer soundin' like a redcoat. Besides, why's drinking such a big idea? Legal age over there is eighteen. I'm sure you've gotten more then shitfaced in the past year."

There was a beam of red that outlined her face. Pegged.

"Yeah, so, it's more special and meaningful with your family and in the land of your birth."

Logan chuckled, "That don't even seem right....It was like a minute ago you were still fourteen and a half and only five that you were still teethin."

"Yeah, Yeah. I can't help it you're an old fart. And One year is one minute, and one minute turns into a decade…and a decade turns into a second... and a second eventually becomes a lifetime…." She rattled on hoping whatever she just said made sense. There was so much wrong with that, but no one seemed to care about it, so she crossed her arms to solidify her point. Logan smirked.

"Yer still a half pint..."

"And a half-pint of Guinness sounds good when we paint the town red, what do you think?"

"You hear this kid 'Ro? Sounds like consenting to illegal acts of conduct…"

Ororo smiled, finally speaking.

"Aw Kitten, it's just surreal how time flies. It's good to have you back with us, only if it is for a little while, and we'd be overjoyed spent it with you. Tell ya what, Logan even agrees all drinks are on him tonight, right? "

She nudged him playfully, but he looked at her like she lost her mind. If the smirk he was getting was any indication of an award for later, he just nodded. Sure, why the hell not. He snaked arm around her waist.

"Sure, means I can monitor then."

"No way......yes!!"

Kitty did an impromptu victory dance in the middle of the kitchen, leaving everyone at odds for her strange behaviour.

"Must be sum good hash Kitty be smokin' in England. Maybe Remy should check it out, non?"

That earned a smack from Rogue.

"What chere? Remy just say what everyone's t'inking."

She glared at him.

"Not everyone is ah delinquent like ya swamp rat."

Remy glared at her. "Der Loss."

"Really, what's so exciting, Kitten?" Ororo's voice broke through, as it seemed Kitty missed the entire exchange of Remy and Rogue over her continued dancing.

"Kurt owes me forty pounds!!! Ha! Wait till he hears it...." After ending her gestures, she smiled and beamed at Ororo and gave Logan a long winding look.

"Bout time you two hardheads finally got together."
She rattled hugging them both. It finally hit them. Kitty must have caught on after Logan put his arm around her. But it was something else that hit Logan, maybe a few seconds delayed as he turned to Ororo.

"Did she admit to bettin' on us?"

Before a response could be had Peter came strolling past the kitchen.

"Mail-Call...." he stopped in mid sentence at the sight of Kitty. Both their eyes met.

"Kitty?" There was a silence before he continued, "When did you get here?"

She stammered a few minutes before responding.

"Just a few minutes ago... I'm only here for the weekend."

She diverted her eyes down, seemingly unsure how to respond to him.

"Happy birthday Kitty."

His voice was low in thick with his Russian accent, and at that, proceeded to look back at the mail.

"This is for you, Ororo."

And with that he handed a package off to her, but it was clear his intentions were still on the young woman before him.

Ororo glanced at the brown package, with no return address and raised an eyebrow.

"Kitty..."

Everyone in the room took it as a hint to give the two former lovers a second alone. Before leaving, Logan patted Kitty on the shoulder.

"Good to see ya again, kid."

Now out in the hallway, Remy, Rogue, Logan and Ororo took turns staring at each other.

"How ya think that's gonna go over?" Rogue inquired of the situation they just left in the kitchen.

"Like a fart in a diver's helmet, non. Ya just don' go reaffirming your love for an' alien dat mindfucked ya an expect your ex ta be okay wid'it."

"Didn't know ya possessed such ah poetic soul, Swamp Rat."

"Chere, I possess more den dat. Would ya like to... find out? If dat be so den meet me t'night and be prepared to.. inquire wid'in."

"Inquire this." A middle finger was included in that thought.

"Don' be make threats you aren't prepared ta keep."

"An don' be proposals that ya can't live up ta."

"Can it, ingrates. You two are makin' me sick."

Regardless of the insulting threat just breathed, the banter continued for another five minutes until....

"Do shut up."

Ororo's command obviously was more effective. A cease and desist of stupidity followed, and at that, she continued to the original topic of discussion.

" Besides, Peter knows he messed up. If anything, she might invite him to the city. Time is the best remedy to any problem."

"Maybe. But in da' meantime, let's get ready to get shitfaced..."
and with that Ororo and Rogue both elbowed Remy in sweet harmony.

"Oh come on, femmes. Da Wolverine says it, an he gets notin, Remy says it and he gets clobbered. Where's da justice?"
He proceeded to rub his sides.

"C'Mon Cajun. Ya had enough good ideas for one mornin.' Let's go find Bets and Warren...."

At that, she latched one gloved hand through his arm and dragged him away. With a look of never tango wit' a femme who could suck ya dry plastered on his face, he gladly retreated, but not before motioning to the package in Ororo's hands. Ororo then returned her attention to it momentarily before Logan's gruff voice broke the sonic barrier.

"'Ro, I know ya say he's your brother, but couldn't ya have found somethin' more intelligent? Kid don' left me with a headache that only a bottle of jack cab get rid of."

She smile light-hearte, an eyebrow raising.
"Come on Logan, you know I adore free entertainment."
She paused with a mischief in her grin.
" It's why I'm with you after all."

"Woman, yer askin for it."

While he sounded all rough and tough, the grin creeping at the side of his features gave way to amusement.

"Oh, idle threats from the big bad Wolverine. What should I do? Run or fly?"

"Don' matter, either way yer gonna end up on yer backside."

"Your arrogance is astounding."

"Thanks."

He pulled her towards his chest in good spirits before running into an obstruction. Damn it, he felt like taking three claws to it right away for the roadblock before realizing that would be overkill on a simple package. He already forgot she had it.

"Who's it from?"

"Not a clue...."

"Where's it postmarked?"

Ororo glanced, as he let her go and she examined it a second time over catching a faint postmark on the backside.
" Looks like the United Kingdom."

"England's just dropping in all kinds'a surprises today, huh?"

"Could be Wales, Scotland or Northern Ireland."

"Maybe, but last I checked Essex was England." He brought attention to the fine print under the postmark.

"Har. Har."

"Enhanced eyesight, Darlin. Goes a long way.

Logan.

Logan jumped at he mental summoning. No matter how many times the method was used, it still made him edgy. Damn people just rippin through the fabric of time and space, summin' ya without warning had that effect. Whatever happened to a simple and normal person-to-person call?

Yo Chuck.

I know Kitty's return is quite a treat, and you are all planning to go out, but if you please, a word before you depart.

Sure thing Chuck.

And with that, the mental transmission ended.

"I gotta check in the with Chuck. Catch you later?"

Ororo smiled, "Sure thing."

He pulled her in for a very passionate-and-public kiss, tongue and all before departing, signifying a definitely new chapter in their relationship. She found herself intoxicated and a little weak at the knees as his footsteps retreated around the corner. Staring for a bit, feeling more at peace with her life, her family her friends and herself then she had in a long time, Ororo smiled before returning her thoughts back to the mysterious package.

Walking past the kitchen, she saw Peter and Kitty in deep conversation before creeping away and flying out the front door. Now a good distance in woods, she landed on the forest floor noticing the snow from last night all but melted away as it contended with the bright afternoon sun. Not a cloud could be seen for miles and wouldn't surface till much later, she high up in a tree, she relaxed under a sturdy limb, one foot dangling, the other anchoring her weight. Tearing the first layer of the package away, she found another box, then an envelope. Securing hold of the box, she opened the envelope and found a letter in small and pristine handwriting. She read it carefully, thoughtfully.

Ahalan'wasalan Windrider,

I debated writing this in Arabic script, but wasn't sure if you ever advanced that far in your studies. Speaking and writing are two different things, non? So I settled on English. You were so keen to speak it even when you were in French territory, although, I knew you understood French well enough. To err is human, to forgive divine. But don't worry, for I am far from perfect (as you know better then any) and even might succumb to exchanging out English words for other tongues during the course of the this letter. If that's the case, all apologies ahead of time for any confusion.

I do think I failed to mention in our previous meeting, I speak seven languages. Sabbah! In numerology according to the Gnostics, and even Christian mysticism, seven is suppose to denote completeness; Although I highly doubt judging ones completeness of character is based on the number of languages they speak but more a direct result taken from places traveled or worldly exposure. And Allah knows I've lived in a great many places to know firsthand: Egypt, Syria, Israel, Lebanon, Italy, Germany, France..... Sometimes I wonder if i will always be wandering without a true home base. If you have found that in the X-Men you serve (and that Remy character you insist on calling a 'brother' no accounting for taste, sister), then hold onto it with every fiber of your being. It's something special that should be cherished, regardless of the cold hard fact it could be taken from you in a flash of a button or a trigger being pulled.
I've been blessed to find one true friend that has cleaved to me like no other, and strangely enough, by world standards, we're suppose to be enemies. Allah has a strange way of working his will on things and I don't question why he does anything anymore.

But in other news, maybe you would be happy to hear you motivated me to try this superhero kick. Although we'll see how long it will be before me and Lianyia caravan it to the next town. Maybe we'll stick around here for a little bit. There's been lots of interesting people, to say the least. But none as interesting as you.

Although I can say the reason for our meeting is something I didn't want to mentally rehash (as you didn't want to either, I am sure), I felt our assembling to becoming of one mind was essential. I know I might have spoke of understanding your exact pain, but now I see that might have been a false accusation since we are, in effect, two different people. And everyone has different coping mechanisms. But still, we were thrown into a situation, never the ones to create it. I hope, ad least, you can see the difference between the two. So now that I have exhausted my preaching to the choir, rainmaker.( Did I mention, the rain from tonight made me sit down and scribe you now?), Ben's telling me it's time to get some rest. He can be such a noisy pain.

Either way, I hope your sleeping well.
Enjoy the memento. (It is yours after all, aywa?) And maybe we'll meet again soon.

Keep the faith my sister.

~Ayesha

Ororo gently folded the letter back. Ayesha, although living a tragic past, possessed a definite dry sense of humour, and maybe in some instances, a bit of a morbid yet realistic outlook.
But no matter.

Putting those thoughts aside, she turned her attentions to the other box. Black, quaint and fair sized. After opening it, a slab of jade hit the sunlight. Ororo felt her breath catch, much the same as it had the night she saw it on the street corner in old Montreal.

One of her esteemed pickpocket goods from childhood.
So it was hers after all, yes?
A double meaning coursed that mention; a cryptic metatruth, she noted mentally. Maybe for the next meeting, as Ayesha spoke that there would be, that would be the conversation starter. Memories still eluded as to how and why she ended up with it to begin with.

Presently, she marveled at the cut of the stone, its possible metal impurities, lack-luster and then the inlay of gold and silver interlocking hoops so expertly crafted. A sudden thought hit her that it could have been older and more an antique then she realized.
Maybe it was an old heirloom?
Probably Persian in origin, since the guy she got it from was Persian, or as she was told. And with those thoughts, a carbon test didn't sound like such a bad idea. She put it on her things to mention when she saw Hank list. But now, it wouldn't matter if someone said it was part of the lost treasure of Eldorado, she wove it around her neck like a keepsake.

She made it back her loft, tucking the letter safely away in her vanity and then finding a few minutes to gaze into mirror at her image. All seemed in order, her hair was bounteous; although she was debating whether to put it in plaits again. She really liked the plaits. But turning that thought aside, she decided to trade in her jeans and grey tank top for attire more becoming for the city. Something in leather, and maybe green to match her necklace.

It was a few more minutes before the sight of auburn hair caught the corner of the mirror. She turned to see Remy standing in the doorway, his trademark duster donned, and his armed crossed. He wore a light smirk that could be transferred into a smile, and moved further into her room.

""What did she say?"

Remy, the intuitive.
She moved from the mirror to her bed. He followed until both were sitting on the edge.
Or maybe just Remy the observant. His eyes darted from the workmanship hanging over her collarbone.

"Well lets see, a hello for one. Indulged she's been on the run most of her life, is trying out London for a bit now. Speaks seven languages. I think that's about the gist of it."

"Seven? Merde, someone gets around. Makes Remy wonder how many her side-kicked speaks, non. Man, dat one… whatta piecea work."

Ororo recalled the woman Ayesha had been with. Another strange one, someone she called Liana or Leanyia or something equally as close. Sounded Russian upon first thought and Ororo recalled she spoke English with another accent, but really didn't care about the details then. She had too much going on to care. Although after a few plugs today, she was starting to get a good guess about exactly were.

"Oh don't be jealous just because she drunk you under the table."

"Aint dat, chere. Remy smart. She was upta some'tin, tryin ta get me down, dat one. Tryin' ta get in," he pointed to his temple, "And pissed dat she couldn't."

"You felt that too, huh? When I ran into her, I felt a tinge, a light probe. Didn't think anything of it then, but when I look back, it makes sense to know she could read minds."

"Remy didn't trust her. Some'tin off bout her. Even da otha one…"

Ororo's curiosity peaked wondering why Remy never mentioned his suspicions before.

"Like what?"

"Dunno. Sometin not right bought dem. Just upta no good, dem two. Remy sensed."

Ororo pondered on his words, something about them eating at her but couldn't find a way to counter it. Before long, he turned the conversation.

"Find out da connection to dat?"

Ororo faded in, still on his cryptic stance before she realized he was talking about the necklace she wore.

"No. But at our next meeting, I will."

Remy's eyes perked, more interested then ever.

"Planning ta fly back wit Kitty den?"

She didn't immediately respond but her eyes said it all. Remy knew the look of the eyes, a certain gleem that lined them.

"I don't think she'd object."

"I'm comin wit you."

Ororo suddenly felt a twist of apprehension.

"Oh no your not. I just got Logan off my back, and yours too, silly man and I don't feel like goin through this another time… so no your not coming."

He looked at her for a moment. Of course he was going but didn't want to fight her on it. Instead, he decided that was something that had been on his mind since seeing her walk into the kitchen all smiles and good spirits.

"Ah, speaking of Da Wolverine. What ya tell him to get him in such a good mood?"

Remy, the master of diversion. Changing hands, and asking things she wasn't ready to tell him yet. There went the arch of the eyebrow, that twitch of the lip, and with it, all her secrets.

"Merde, Chere. You didn't."

"I did."

"An'?"

"He was speechless, but feels the same."

"Da Wolverine, Speechless? Must get'em off sometin fierce for dat to happen, chere."

She punched him in the arm.

"So dis means that I gotta put up with Mr. Braindead dumb-ass for a while ta come?"

"It Looks that way. Which means the little understanding acquired is riding on you not being stupid or threatening to do dumb things that would bring him to the point of maiming you…."

Remy crossed his hands like a little boy, and would have pouted, but that was too out of character.

"Remy not afraid of dat Bastard merde---"

"You should be. He doesn't die. And I can't afford another therapist if you kick the bucket, so deal with it. "

"She's got a point Cajun. Now how bout you scat-dattle before I give ya three more?"

With latent surprise, they both jumped to find Logan standing on the threshold of the door. She wondered how long he'd been there, or how much he heard. Either way, Remy moved from the bed, and towards the door, but stopping right in front of Logan, his body standing full height that stretched ad least a good four inches over him. If that was supposed to be intimidating, then Logan didn't get the memo. Still his eyes shone on, deep, commanding and red, before leaning in.

"You screw her over an see if I don' care bout how fast ya heal…"

And with that walked out. Logan watched him go, before closing the door behind him, and looking up at Ororo who had risen from the mattress. She looked at him with mirth aside from the exchange only minutes ago.
The look of love clamored in her breast, though she beat it down as he stalked toward her, it wasn't appropriate just then.

"Kid's dumb," he mumbled, "But somehow I understand where he's comin' from."

"That mean he'll live to see another day?" Ororo asked incredulously.

She hadn't heard what Remy said, but hoped whatever common ground was had could better the process of them co-existing.

"Give or take."

"Good to hear. I like when everyone behaves."

He eyed her with intensity, as if she owed him an explanation. It nipped at her, his demeanor, but before she could read into it, he broke the air.

"Chuck said cerebro was pickin up some psychic disturbance round Chelsea, and since he found were headin' up that way, wanted me to check it out. But he wanted to keep it under wraps, so sometime tonight, I gotta break away to look into it. I'm sure half-pint will be wonderin' bout those drinks I owe her but I trust ya can make something else up while I'm away. "

Ororo thought the news a bit strange, but didn't question it.

"I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Guess it helps that Pete's comin' too. That's a good distraction as any."

There was a silence as he looked at her meaningfully, almost expectantly. She pondered why. After a time, he diverted his gaze back toward the door, but not before returning around to peer one last time.

"I don't know what yer not telling me, but I hope ya would. Oh, an by the way, really like that necklace."

Ororo felt a tight feeling lift her chest at the idea of Logan thinking she didn't trust him. Maybe she should have told him, but she didn't.
She sighed before pulling out her clothes for the night.

*******

Song quoted, if anyone is interested, is Mercy Street from Peter Gabriel. An excellent tract. Maybe, if any of you are feeling adventurous, you can go back and read the the first part with it playing. Really helps with the mood the element.

Hope you enjoy. A few more chapters are to come if the interest is there, and as alsways. Reviews appreciated.