Chapter 5
Sara came back from the press conference the next day drained. "Well, that's that," she said wearily, plopping down on the couch in the X-Men's rec room and staring at the TV, where her own image, answering reporters' questions, was replaying on the screen. The X-Men had been watching avidly, especially Wolverine, who had been admiring her grit and determination. She hadn't answered any of the lurid questions they had thrown at her, and had kept her calm even though he could see some of the stupid things they had asked ("Mrs. Ryan! How do you feel knowing that he's likely to lose his Senate seat?") scraped at her nerves and angered her. But she bit her lip, answered them all calmly, and walked away from the press with more admirers than detractors. The political commentators had been as full of praise for her 'delicate handling of a very bad situation' as they were full of condemnation for Senator Ryan. One man even said that he wouldn't have been nearly so kind to the Senator as she had been.
"Please, can we change the channel?" she asked Warren, who was holding the remote. "I'm sick of hearing people talk about me." He looked at her face and hit the button.
It was little use. Every channel seemed to be airing footage of the conference or talking about it. Sara got up and left the rec room, heading upstairs to her room. On the way up, she ran into Xavier. "Hello," she said.
"Sara," he acknowledged. "I was looking for you. Have you given any more thought to joining the team?"
She nodded. "I'd like to," she said. "I still want to keep my job at the hospital, though. I'm doing some good there and they're very shorthanded on ER surgeons. I was thinking about going back on a part-time basis, and being here helping you guys out the rest of the time. Do you think that would work?"
Xavier smiled broadly. "I was hoping you would agree," he said happily. "Here." He handed her a folded pile of blue cloth.
"What is it?" she asked even as she unfolded it. And she grinned in delight, not waiting for his answer. The large red and black X on the right breast of the suit was answer enough. "Oh, wow," she said. "My own uniform!"
Xavier chuckled heartily. "Feel free to alter it as you wish," he said. "Most of the others do, or they wear what is comfortable for them. Just be sure that whatever you do to it, you'll still be able to move unhindered. Speed and freedom of movement is important." He started to move off down the hall. "I will tell Scott to expect you in the Danger Room tomorrow."
Sara called after him, "Thank you!" and stared at his retreating back, wondering how she could repay him for his kindness.
Wolverine came on her later that evening after dinner sewing in her room. "Whatcha doin'?" he drawled, sitting on the bed beside her. She looked at him, almost glowing with happiness. "Professor Xavier asked me to join the team," she beamed. "And I accepted. He offered me this uniform, and told me to alter it if I wanted to, so that's what I'm doing."
"Yer joinin' the team?" he asked. Something in his tone made her look at him, and she narrowed her eyes.
"Yes," she answered warily. "You don't sound thrilled."
"I'm not," he snapped, getting up and closing her room door.
"Why not?" she asked, puzzled.
"It's a dangerous business," he told her, "I'd hate ta see ya get hurt, or killed. It's not easy, no matter what it looks like."
"What are you saying?" she said bluntly.
"I'm sayin'," and he got up again, to pace around her room, "that it's dangerous, and ya don't know what yer getting' inta. I don't want ta have ta watch out fer ya in a fight when I should be protectin' myself. I can't be watchin' ya all th' time."
Sara looked at him, her rising anger betrayed by the pink flush in her cheeks. She clenched her hands around the cloth in her lap to stop herself from belting him. "You're implying that I can't take care of myself," she said quietly.
"Well…" Logan hesitated, then went on, "well, yes. Yer not the real aggressive type, Sara, and this business we're in calls fer a lot o' that. I jus' think maybe ya should reconsider." His next words caused her to lose her temper completely. "Ya can't fight like 'Ro, or Betsy, an' ya don't got offensive powers like Jean's. I jus' think maybe ya'd be better off stayin' here 'stead o' goin' out on missions like we do."
Sara gathered up her things, placing them in her sewing basket, mentally going through things she wanted to say and discarding most of them because they involved a lot of swearwords that she wasn't sure she wanted everyone else to hear. She turned to him, her anger fully roused, and stared him down like a rabbit under a hawk's eye. "Logan." She began, her voice flat. "Get the hell out of my room. What makes you think I can't handle myself? What makes you think I can't fight? What makes you think you'll have to baby-sit me? Did I say I needed a babysitter? DID I SAY I WANTED YOU TO WATCH OVER ME?" Sara knew she was shouting, and that everyone could hear her, but she was past caring. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself! Just because I didn't choose to fight Richard doesn't mean I can't. Stop assuming I'm some helpless naïve little girl, because I'm not!" She turned away from him, angry, and ran out of the room, crashing straight into Jean, Scott, and Storm. Angry at herself for losing her temper and at a loss for where else to go, she retreated to the garage, where Scott had put her car up on blocks. She seized a wrench and lay on a sled, sliding under the car, disappearing from sight.
Not much longer later she heard the garage door open and footsteps walk in. She groaned inwardly as she saw a pair of men's sneakers walk into the garage and stop. There was silence, then a voice. "Sara."
It wasn't Logan's voice. She slid out from under the car and saw Cyclops standing there. She sighed again and sat up. "Look. I know you guys didn't appreciate hearing me lose my temper, and I'm sorry. He just--" she shook her head.
"Pissed you off," Scott said with a twinkle in his eye. "I know. He does that to a lot of people. We heard."
Sara wiped her hands on a shop towel. "I'm not a helpless little girl," she muttered. "When my dad was stationed in China I took Tai Chi from some monks in a nearby monastery."
Scott crouched next to her, putting a wrench on the floor back into the toolbox. "A great deal of Logan's past is a mystery to him. Several women he loved in the past died. He finds it hard to open up and love anyone. He cares a great deal but tries not to show it because he wants to preserve that macho image. Let me tell you something, though; there's no one I'd rather have in a fight guarding my back than him. It's taken me a long time to say that; I had my reservations about him for a while. He irritates me with this habit he has of slipping out and disappearing for days on end."
Sara looked at him mildly, anger gone. "He irritates you with the way he feels about your wife, too," she said. "Though from what I've seen, you've nothing to worry about on that end. He respects you and her both too much to move in on her. And she loves you, period, end of story."
Scott grinned. "I know. But enough, I came to talk about the two of you. He can be overprotective, but he did have a point. You don't have much experience with fighting."
She wiped her hands on the towel again, scrubbing at some stubborn grease. "The monks taught me swordwork. I wish I had thought to bring mine from Richard's house; at the time I was too upset to think about it."
Scott offered her a hand up. "We have the Danger Room to practice in. And Psylocke—Betsy to us—is quite an accomplished swordswoman herself. Charles keeps a variety of different weapons for us to use. Want to go see if he has an extra sword?"
Sara grabbed his hand. "Could I?"
"Let's go." As they packed up the tools, Scott sent telepathically to his wife, Jean. Please ask Betsy to join us in the Danger Room.
What's up?
Sara's been trained in Tai Chi swordwork. She might be a little rusty, and would welcome a sparring partner to work out with. And Betsy's about as good as anyone I know. The Danger Room's not real good at simulations like that, as she constantly tells me.
Jean's mindvoice was filled with amusement. I'm talking to Logan. He's trying to convince me to tell the Professor she shouldn't join. Shall I tell him she is, love?
Scott laughed aloud. No, Jean, how about we let him find out for himself tomorrow morning at workout? He needs a surprise now and then. Keeps him sharp.
She laughed too. All right. She was silent, and he felt the dim echo of her calling Betsy telepathically, then she spoke to him again. She's on her way.
Jean broke off her telepathic exchange and returned her attention to the man in front of her. Logan was pacing angrily around in circles, and Jean thought with amusement that by the time he had done the carpet would need replacing. He was spluttering angrily.
"…but I'm worried she won't be able ta handle herself, though! She's a doctor, with healing powers, nothin' overly aggressive, or defensible. She's liable ta get herself killed out there! Jean, ya gotta tell Chuck she can't join!"
Jean spoke as he stopped to take a breath. "Logan, she's probably seen us on the news. She knows what we do is dangerous; she knows we get hurt, and she probably guesses we occasionally get killed. If she knows all that and she's still willing to join us, I'd say that's her right. She has the right to make her own choices. You don't have the right to infringe on her right to make her own decisions. She wouldn't stand for that. Her husband picked out her clothes, her car, her friends, her work, and probably her room décor! The last thing she will want is to get into another relationship where that is the base. If she so much as thinks you might do that to her she'll turn and run away from you. You don't want that."
Wolverine stopped short as her words penetrated. "I didn' think 'bout that. Ya think that's why she got mad at me, because she thought I was goin' ta control her the way her husband did?"
"I would say that was a very real possibility," Storm said as she swept into the room, carrying a glass of iced tea. "Logan, you must think about her background. Knowing what you do of her recent past with her husband, do you think she would voluntarily place herself in that position again?"
"No," he sat down at the library's reading table. He thought about that for a moment and sighed. "I pissed her off, didn' I?"
"Yes," both women replied emphatically.
"I better go apologize," he said, getting up. Storm caught his arm.
"Why not give her some time to cool off?" she suggested. "The way she looked when she left I do not believe confronting her tonight would be a wise choice. Why not speak to her tomorrow after our practice in the Danger Room?"
Wolverine chewed over that for a moment, then said, "Okay, I see yer point. I'm gonna go up ta bed. Night, 'Ro. Night, Jean." And he was gone.
Jean laughed softly once she knew he was gone. "He's in for a surprise," she said. Storm looked at her quizzically. Jean explained, "Sara was trained in Tai Chi sword work. From what Scott tells me, she's quite good. Want to go see?"
Storm gestured out the door. "Lead the way."
Scott didn't take his eyes off the two women circling each other on the floor of the Danger Room as Storm and Jean joined him at the observation window. Looking down, Jean could see why.
Betsy and Sara circled each other, both holding swords, neither taking eyes off the other. As the three of them watched, they came together, swords clashing. Sara parried, thrust, alternately taking the offensive and defensive against her opponent. Her leggings and exercise top was soaked, but she showed no sign of giving up. Betsy circled her warily again, then attacked, getting past Sara's defense and knocking the young woman to the mat. "That's only the third time she's done that," Scott told the two women as they watched. "Sara might be rusty now, but when she's back up she and Betsy will be able to take down anything…or anyone…together!"
She laughed, and Sara echoed her as she accepted her offer of a hand up off the mat. They gave each other the traditional salute with their swords, then both turned as the door opened and Scott, Jean, and Storm walked in. Jean smiled broadly at Sara. "Logan will definitely be eating crow tomorrow," Betsy said in her clipped British accent. "Very few people can hold out that long against me like that for long. If, as you say, you are out of practice, God help the enemy we take on when you are back in form!"
"Amen to that," came another voice, and they all turned, to see Xavier coming in the door. "However, if any of you wish to be in time for training tomorrow, I do suggest all of you go to bed now. Sara, Logan is asleep, so you shouldn't see him till tomorrow." His eyes twinkled. "Then I believe he'll have plenty of apologizing to do."
And so it proved. When the X-Men gathered in the Danger Room the next morning, both Logan and Sara avoided each other. Once training started, though, Wolverine got extremely interested in watching Sara work with her sword. So much so that he was nearly decapitated by Sabretooth several times. Xavier would have reprimanded him from the observation booth had he not been laughing so hard. As the simulation shut down, the others left one by one, leaving Logan and Sara standing alone. She didn't wait for him to say anything. She attacked as soon as the door closed behind Storm, forcing him to go on the defensive. She attacked him hard and fast, her sword against his adamantium claws, not hard enough to dent or break her sword, but with sufficient impact to make him feel it. Finally he raised his voice over the clashing metal and yelled at her, "Enough! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
She stopped, lowered her sword, and said sweetly, "Apology accepted."
He looked at her ruefully and said, "I'm really sorry, Sara. I didn' mean ta imply ya weren't capable o' takin' care o' yerself."
She said quietly, "I'm sorry too, Logan. When I left Richard, I promised myself I'd never let anyone make decisions for me again. Then you tried to. I got upset without realizing you were doing it for me because you were truly concerned for me. Richard did it because he just wanted to control me. There's a difference; I just didn't make that distinction. I'm sorry I flew off the handle yesterday." She sheathed her sword. "Friends?" she held out her hand.
Logan ignored the hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him in a crushing hug, which she returned with interest. She lifted her head to his as he was lowering his to her, and their lips met.
They were both grateful that the showers were empty.
