THE HEAVENS OPEN
By Stormkeeper (stormkpr@usa.net)
In addition to thanking Leigh for her beta testing, I also want to thank my friend Severine for her recent –and excellent -- beta testing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
******************
Rogue and Gambit found Shaman outside of the airlock one afternoon. Shaman had ventured outside of Freedom, and was hanging up his coat, hat, and scarf. "The weather is getting better," he told them.
"You mean like above zero?" Rogue asked.
"I think that someday soon we will be able to spend more time outside. Today was not bad at all." Shaman then paused and asked, "Are you two going outside now?"
"No. We, uh, Shaman, we wanted to ask you a favor. Would you do a ceremony for us?" Rogue asked.
"We wanted to say goodbye to the little one," Gambit explained. "To do it more formally."
"We, uh, heard that you and your wife lost a baby once too," Rogue added awkwardly.
Shaman was not surprised at the request. The last few days, both members of the couple seemed more like themselves. Rogue was now seen without her gloves.
"We did lose a baby," he said. "The ceremony we had helped us to recover. I would be honored to facilitate a ceremony with you. When would you like to do this?"
"Whenever's good for you," Rogue replied.
"Would you like this ceremony to include the three of us only, or anyone else?"
Rogue and Gambit looked at each other. "What you t'ink, chere?" he asked.
Rogue was quiet for a while. "I dunno. Maybe private would be better." She paused. "But what we went through effected everyone."
"True. But we be the ones doin' the sufferin.' Even dough we know dey care 'bout us, we the ones who lost the baby."
"May I make a suggestion?" Shaman asked. "Perhaps two ceremonies might be in order. One for the two of you only. A second one, perhaps, for the entire team. Silver Moon and I used this approach and we liked it."
The idea was embraced by the still-grieving couple. Shaman immediately began preparations, and they held their private ceremony that evening in the main conference room. A "Please Do Not Disturb" sign was placed outside, on the door.
Rogue and Gambit sat on the floor, facing each other in the semi-darkness. Candles lit by Shaman sparingly illuminated the room.
Remy's heart rate sped up. The grief from their loss and the pain of his guilt still covered him like a shroud. His bones were weary, and yet he couldn't explain the twinge of nervousness he felt too. His ears involuntarily perked up when he heard the sound of a flute in the background.
"Music from Dani Moonstar will help us to set the mood," Shaman murmured in explanation. Since the CD player used up only a miniscule amount of dilithium, it was not off-limits to the team.
"For a second I thought she was back with us," Rogue said, and sadness at being separated from Dani -- and especially Storm -- added another layer of loss to the ritual.
"Close your eyes," Shaman's rhythmic voice commanded. "Breath deeply. Inhale….exhale." He paused for several moments, and then repeated, "Inhale…..exhale." Shaman continued to have them focus on their breathing for a while. The flute music played in the background, melodic and lush.
"Now open your eyes," he said, after quite some time. As always, Shaman's voice sounded like a gentle, though simultaneously commanding, suggestion. "Look at each other."
Remy awaited more direction, but none came. He was content to obey Shaman; he knew the wise healer would help them deal with their pain. He looked into Rogue's green eyes, which gazed steadily back at him.
Rogue almost jumped back, looking into Gambit's fiery pools which spoke of such deep love and intensity. She still had to beat back doubts as to whether or not she truly deserved this type of love. Looking at him, she realized that he struggled with the same self-doubts, and how ridiculous these doubts were. She then pondered whether he had just reached the same conclusion. The remnants of the mindlink they shared told her that he did.
Shaman observed the intensity of their look, all of their emotions on display as they continued to gaze at each other. He, too, was stung by sadness and he desperately missed his own wife and daughter. His focus, however, remained on the ceremony.
"Tell each other how you feel. Even if you have already said similar words before, share with the person you love your emotions – whatever is on your mind right now. The person in front of you is your soulmate, your life partner. This is a safe place. You can share whatever thoughts and feelings you have with this person whom you love."
Perhaps the couple was not yet ready to break eye contact. They remained looking into each other's eyes, allowing Shaman's words to resonate. Finally, when the time felt right, Rogue broke the silence. "I love you, Remy. I feel we can get through this."
Gambit spoke from his heart. "I feel dat too chere. I love you."
Shaman waited, encouraging them to speak more. After more moments of silence, they opened up. Rogue and Gambit laid bare their grief, their dashed hopes and dreams, their crushing sense of loss.
"I wanted dis baby, chere. An' I miss the baby," Remy said, repeating sentiments he had expressed earlier. Then, after a pause, he added. "Some days I did feel two ways 'bout it 'dough. Some days I worried 'bout whether I was ready for dis. For becomin' a pere. I worried sometimes whet'er I be a good dad." He gulped and then, sensing it would be alright, finally spoke the words. "Dere were some days I didn't want the baby."
Rogue listened to those words, digesting them. "I sensed that sometimes. Part of me kinda knew that. But I ignored it," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I was so gung-ho on havin' a baby, an' I didn't always consider your feelins. I'm sorry, Remy. I was kinda selfish."
"Chere, I can't say how sorry I am. Dis make me feel all the more guilty dat we lost the baby. I swear to you, amour, dat I did not want dis to happen."
"I know." She said it, and it was true. Rogue understood that he was suffering as much as she was, if not more, due to his guilt.
"Remy," Rogue began again softly, "I know you wouldda made a great daddy."
"I hope you be right, chere. An'….an' I know dat we can get 'drough dis toget'er."
"I think we can do it. Hell, Remy, you got me outta that coma with your love. You rescued me from that sorcerer. Think of everythin' we've been through – I know we can handle whatever comes our way."
When the pair had finished pouring their hearts out to each other, Shaman continued the ritual. He asked them to pray together, to whatever higher power they believed in. "Ask for healing of your grief. For protection in future pregnancies, should you choose to have them. For strength. And for you to never forget the depth of your bond with each other and your love."
Rogue and Gambit respected the moment of silence. Rogue did say a few prayers, hoping that they might be heard. She wondered whether Remy was praying too. She knew he harbored doubts about the existence of a divine power, though she thought he believed in one deep inside his heart. The more she reflected on it, she felt fairly confident that he did say a few prayers, though she wondered where he directed them to.
Rogue opened her eyes to see that Shaman had created a small fire, contained inside what appeared to be a kettle. "I would like to conclude this ceremony by asking you bid farewell to this baby and what the baby represented to you. Once we say farewell, we can move forward."
He had placed paper and pencils on the table next to where they sat. Shaman handed both Rogue and Remy the writing materials. Working together and saying very little, the grieving pair solemnly wrote a few lines about Rogue's pregnancy. When they had finished, they regretfully placed the paper inside the fire.
Remy watched the fire burn. He felt that the words they'd written spontaneously were poetic and should be kept, and treasured. `Gotta say goodbye to dem,' he mused. 'Jus' like we gotta say goodbye to the baby.' He pulled Rogue closer.
******************
The day after the incident with Marrow, Dani Moonstar paced around her quarters. She was uncertain of how to proceed. She picked up her pen and wrote across the pages of her journal.
She had just come from one of the conference rooms in which she and Storm occasionally "hung out". Dani had played Storm a few songs on her flute. Storm smiled appreciatively. From looking at the Weather Goddess, Dani easily detected that Storm was not yet strong enough to confront Psylocke or Marrow. The fire had not yet returned to her eyes. They still played the flute together, and Storm sometimes struggled with songs she'd known well. It scared Dani. She couldn't say that she'd known Storm for too long, but it seemed quite uncharacteristic of Storm to take so long to recover. The other X-men had told stories of Storm's legendary stamina and robustness --- one day an enemy could have practically torn her body to shreds, the next she was flying around hurling lightning bolts at the bad guys.
Well, it's not like that anymore. Looks like it could be days or weeks before Storm feels like herself again, Dani wrote in her journal. But I can't go days or weeks without seeing Marrow. She's gonna find me. You just can't keep avoiding someone on a starship for too long – they're always there.
When finished with her songs, Moonstar did not ask Storm for direction on what to do next. Maybe I got to figure this out on my own and not bother her.
Dani did like Alexander, but she sure didn't feel ready to start confiding in him or asking his counsel, even though she could tell that he was a reasonable man. He's cool. I could probably talk to him about this if I wanted to.
Part of the problem's that I can't figure Marrow out, Dani began a new paragraph. Whatever she feels for me, it's not just sexual. There's more there. She calls it love but I know it's not really that either. Maybe I'm too forgiving of her, but I think she wants to be a better person. Maybe she sees me as inspiration for becoming a better person.
Dani stopped the movement of her hand and shook her head. Or maybe not. She still went ahead and killed all those soldiers. She's completely unapologetic about it, too. Maybe she's just a crazy woman with an intense crush on me. You never know how she's going to react or what she's going to do. She's at least partly mentally ill. Or mentally damaged. I'm afraid to talk to her, I know. But I can't go on being afraid of her either.
Mustering her courage, Dani tracked down Marrow. Marrow had been on the bridge, but she stepped off it to answer Dani's call.
"Was I interrupting something?" Dani asked. They stood in the corridor just outside the bridge.
"No," Marrow said. She briefly looked at Moonstar before averting her eyes. "Psylocke and I were just deciding where to go next." Marrow settled on looking in the direction of the door to the bridge.
"Oh. So where's it gonna be?"
"We don't know. We're thinking of maybe just keepin' in the direction we're goin'."
The Vengeance had been on a slow course towards earth. Logic had it that the closer they came to their home planet, the more FOH vessels they would encounter. However, Dani was encouraged by the fact that Marrow's words and tone didn't exactly sound bloodthirsty.
"Oh," Dani responded. "Have we encountered any more ships? Any signs of FOH trying to track down their friends on the Conqueror?"
"No," Marrow said, fleetingly returning her gaze in Dani's direction. "It's pretty quiet in this sector."
Both women then began to simultaneously say something. Awkwardly, Dani insisted that Marrow speak first.
"I, um, just wanted to say that I was sorry. About yesterday. I feel like such a shit."
These words flooded Moonstar's ears with relief. "Well, you should. If you went through with what you were gonna do, you'd be as low down as an FOH bastard."
"I know." Marrow's eyes were firmly fixed on the floor. Dani even detected a hint of pink on her face.
"So what are we going to do, Marrow? What's next for us?"
Marrow looked baffled. Dani could see that she clearly had no relationship experience and no idea how to work out issues.
"How about an agreement never to use any physical force on each other," Dani suggested, framing it as a statement rather than question.
"Okay. I promise."
"And maybe an agreement to treat each other with respect and kindness."
"Yeah. Yeah, of course!" Marrow's voice gained a bit of enthusiasm and confidence.
There was silence for a bit. Marrow looked back down at her boots. She then looked up and asked, "Um, do you forgive me, Dani?"
Inwardly, she sighed. "Yes," Dani replied.
"How about a movie tonight?" This was the most eagerness Dani had heard from Marrow in ages.
"Don't press your luck," Moonstar replied with confidence, before turning away. Marrow did not follow her.
*****************
The weather started to warm up and there was talk of us someday soon being able to spend more than a few minutes at a time outside. I ran into Gambit outside of the rec room, just as I was exiting it.
"You leavin'?" he asked.
"Um, I was just going to the bathroom," I explained.
"Don't be too long. I'm in the mood for a game of poker."
I sighed. "Yeah, of course you want me in the poker game. I'm a crappy player."
He smiled. "You look so cute when you try to hide your hand. Is so clear when you be fakin' it."
I rolled my eyes. Wasn't much else I could do; he was right, I'm sure. But it didn't really matter. Since we didn't have any money, it wasn't like you lost anything in these games. (Except your pride, but mine's been trampled so many times during the card games, I don't have much to lose.)
"Hey, uh, Gambit," I began, "how are you doing?" I had to ask it, and I felt safe doing so. He'd been looking so much better the last few times I'd seen him, and same for Rogue.
"Gonna be jus' fine, Bobby. Rogue's doin' a lot better too."
"That's good to hear. I—I'm so glad."
"Me too. We had a ceremony wit' Shaman yesterday," he explained. "It helped. We said goodbye." There was such finality in his voice. Gambit then paused and added, "We talked 'bout maybe havin' a ceremony wit' the whole team, but now Rogue and I not so sure. Dis be our loss, an' maybe only us should be doin' the grievin' ceremonies."
I nodded, honored that he'd opened up so much. This was the longest conversation I'd had with Gambit in quite some time. "That makes sense. But you know we all grieve for you and with you. I'm heartbroken at your loss."
Gambit touched a hand to my shoulder. "Me too. But life goes on. We gonna survive dis. We gonna be okay."
I looked at Gambit and had to smile. I got the idea that his prediction would prove to be accurate.
******************
The precocious two-and-a-half year old struggled to make sense of the emotions surging through her head. As Charlotte toddled through the halls of the grounded starship, on any given day she felt the emotions of her extended family.
Uncle Kurt's patience and tranquility….sorrow and longing from so many of her Uncles and Aunts—such as Wolvie, Hank, the reclusive Jeanne-Marie….remnants of guilt from Uncle Remy….guilt from Uncle Hank too, though regarding an entirely different thing, of which Charlotte knew nothing about….frustration from Daddy. A million other emotions whirling around at any given time, too. The emotions changed from one day to the next, from one moment to the next. Some feelings were omnipresent – Aunt Rogue had been sorrowful for a while now, though Charlotte knew she was doing better--- but for most people the feelings changed often.
Charlotte couldn't ask why she experienced other people's emotions. She did sense that she was the only one given this gift. Her mother was similar to her, she felt. But Uncle Bobby and Aunt Jubilee had no way to read the others' emotions. Nor did little Aurora. The thought that she was alone with this ability didn't trouble Charlotte, though it would grow to puzzle her.
She already sensed that her baby brother wasn't quite like her either. Somehow she knew that he was a more ordinary being than she. She felt his love for her and for their parents, and Charlotte returned Christopher's love wholeheartedly.
She wanted to comfort her family. When someone was upset, she wanted to reach for them, whether it was Uncle Wolvie or Aunt Rogue. Rarely was she turned away. Even Aunt Rogue – who had been shutting her out -- welcomed her embrace the other day, though Aunt Rogue had tears forming and Charlotte felt her piercing sense of loss.
******************
Not that long ago, I wrote about a sort of taboo topic, a topic that I loved: men's penises. I'm now going to write about a **really** forbidden topic: what I like to do in bed.
Look at me -- what I wrote above was so vague. "What I like to do in bed." Even **I** apparently have trouble writing about it because the topic is so off-limits, so highly charged. But I am going to dive right in.
There are so many things I like about getting fucked. Trust is the first one. You don't surrender that part of your anatomy unless you trust the person you're turning it over to. Love is another aspect of it. I love Jean-Paul, I love the pleasure he gets from doing this, I love seeing him so satisfied. I love the way it feels, too. He's not the only one getting pleasure from it, and that's another facet of it. It feels soooo good. Back on earth, I remember reading a quote from a gay British author: "Your G-spot is up your bum," he said. I think he's right.
I love the intimacy of it. Yeah, I have done the act with strangers, with men I didn't trust or love or feel remotely intimate with, but now -- with the man I love -- it means so much more. Sometimes it feels like we're becoming one person when we get this close, this deep into each other, under each other's skins. Sharing this act is a powerful way of bonding.
There's a level of excitement about it too. I get on my hands and knees (or lie on my stomach, or bend over the chair, or whatever position) and wonder how he'll take me. What is he going to do, is it going to be fast and driving or slow and sensual? Giving up control – it's not scary, it's thrilling.
There's more to it than all of the above though. There's an element of submission, and an element of shame. No "real" man would ever do what I allow. Once you let yourself get fucked, you've surrendered any last pretence of manliness you had. It's gone, you're done with ---- you're crossing the line, doing what no straight "normal" manly man would do. And people are incredulous that you could actually **like** it.
And the act itself is considered dirty and unnatural. If you willingly do this, you become defined by it; you become considered dirty and unnatural. More shame is heaped on you; they can't understand why you would willingly "degrade" yourself like this. It places you into a whole different category of men. Now you're a faggot, a queer, a fudge packer – or whatever other names they come up with. No matter how strong my friendship with, say, Gambit or any other heterosexual man becomes, there will always be this wall separating us because I am defined by what I do in bed, and he is not.
Somewhere, deep down, I like all of these things. I'm not bothered by the bit of shame I feel over this; I'm not bothered by the connotations of submission or even of doing something considered unnatural. I'm not even bothered that much, any more, by the fact that I've become defined by it. Maybe this is the heart of the matter, why I like it so much and why it goes far beyond pure physical pleasure. The act is home to me, it's comfort. I've been defined by this ever since, in my early years, I heard the nasty words tossed around the playground and knew they applied to me, ever since I felt my first stirrings of desire for another man. I've felt shame about myself my entire life. I can't leave it behind; it's a part of me.
******************
I wrote those words yesterday. I'd gotten my inspiration after making love with Jean-Paul that morning. He'd held me in his arms afterwards, murmuring in French about how good it was, how much he loved me. I told him all of the things I liked about fucking. He buried a few kisses on my face and told me he felt the same way.
Then something happened today.
Jean-Paul and I were eating our breakfast together in our room. We pretty much kept up with our pattern. We'd get up, have a light breakfast in our room together, then work out in the gym, shower, make love afterwards (usually), and then eat more afterwards. We were eating our light breakfast when he brought something up.
"What do you think of monogamy?"
"Monogamy?" I asked, somewhat taken aback. "Like, as in being faithful to your partner?"
"Yes. I mean, did you and Michael ever discuss it, did you decide to be monogamous? You know, that sort of thing," he clarified.
"Hmmmm," I began, thinking, trying to go back into my memory. "Well, we never really talked about it. I never cheated on him. If he cheated on me, I never knew about it." I spoke the truth. I paused and then added, "You know, we lived in San Francisco and I knew some couples who had 'open' relationships."
"Is that so?" Jean-Paul asked, clearly wanting more information.
"Yeah. I knew one straight couple – well, actually they weren't both straight, the girl was bisexual, the guy wasn't – and they had an open marriage. They allowed each other to sleep with someone else. They had rules about it, though – like you had to tell your partner what was going on, had to practice safe sex with the person you were doing." I then added, "I heard of some gay couples that had open relationships too."
"Did it work for any of them?"
"I don't really know. These are like just people I met at parties or people Michael told me about. I didn't have a big group of friends back then." I paused, took a breath, and then asked, "So….why are you asking this?"
I have to admit that I felt a bit on the defensive, and I tried to mask it. I hoped the question had come out breezy and natural, as Jean-Paul had sounded when he brought the topic up. I hadn't thought of such things since I lived in San Francisco. During the time Jean-Paul and I had been together, I never had to worry about him cheating on me because there were no other gay guys on An'zhina or in the X-men. So discussions of "monogamy" had been far from my mind. Even if there had been other gay guys around, it's **not** like I would've worried all day and all night about infidelity though. But I guess our circumstances had always made me feel secure in that regard.
"I am just curious," he said, but his tone made it clear that it went beyond this.
"Were you and Phillipe monogamous?" I asked, probing.
"We were. We talked about it, though. He'd been in a non-monogamous relationship before. We decided not to sleep with other people, but that we would discuss it if we were attracted to others."
"Really?" I asked. I tried to envision how that would work. Part of me would rather not know, I mused. "So did you talk about it? Did you stay monogamous?"
"Yes, and yes. I was faithful to him, though there were a lot of other men I was attracted to, and I talked about it with him."
"Wow," I said flatly. "I can't imagine how to bring that up. I mean, what do you say? 'Honey, just so you know, I'm really attracted to that hot guy at the gym, but don't worry, we're not going to sleep together.'"
One look at Jean-Paul's face wiped the smile off my face. "Is that it?" I asked, soberly. "Are you attracted to someone else here?" I admit that I was afraid as I asked the question. But not too afraid; the other guys were all straight, so it's not like he could do anything with that attraction. The thought of my lover being fond of anyone else wasn't a pleasant one, though.
And before he answered my question, it popped into my head. "Gambit. You are attracted to him, aren't you?"
Jean-Paul nodded.
I **had** kinda seen it, though I tried not to. Long ago we'd once discussed which of our teammates we thought were hot, and Gambit had topped Jean-Paul's list. But since that talk, I'd assumed his feelings towards Gambit had been harmless like my long-gone crush on Wolverine. So it hadn't worried me in the least.
I swallowed and looked down. I felt so plain and ordinary compared to Gambit….I knew I was handsome in only a "cute" sort of way, and my looks couldn't compare to Gambit's all-out gorgeousness. My heart dropped to the floor. "Jean-Paul, why did you bring this subject up? Are you asking for permission to sleep with him? I mean, he's not going to do it – I really think he's straight and you know how he feels about Rogue. But is that why you brought this up?"
"No, Robere, no," he said, reaching for me and enfolding me within his strong arms. "I brought it up because it's been bothering me for a while, and Kurt suggested I talk about it with you."
Great. Tell the Catholic monk about your attraction to Gambit. I kept any bitterness out of my voice but shrugged myself out of his embrace. "Why's it been bothering you though? It's natural to get crushes on other people. You know about my crush on Wolverine." The crush mostly was a thing of the past; I don't know why I made it sound like it wasn't. (Actually, I do know why.)
"It has been bothering me, my feelings for Gambit. Bothering me, and so that's why I do want to talk about monogamy. And I do want to know that you won't be mad at me because of my…like for him." The words 'like for him' combined with Jean-Paul's accent were stinging.
"Heck," I forced a small laugh, "I'm not mad at you. It's only human to be attracted to others. I—I love you, Jean-Paul. I think I would be pretty crushed if you decided to sleep with someone else though."
"And I love you too, amour. I'm not going to sleep with someone else. I just wanted to let you know….what has been going on in my head."
"But so…you're not saying that you want us to be able to sleep with other people, are you?" I then added, muttering, "Even if there were other guys here who'd sleep with you---which there are not."
"No, no, not at all," he responded, as I muttered my comment about there being no other gays here. "Not at all," he repeated. "Like I said, I just want us to be able to talk about things, like I did with Phillipe."
I reached for him and pulled him back into a hug. "Okay. Talking is good. I'm not mad at you for having a crush on Remy." I spoke the truth. I could handle it. He's a guy, and we do get attractions to other people.
What was bothering me was, I'd have to admit, the fact that he brought it up. My first instinct told me that he wouldn't bring it up unless it was serious. So how serious was this "crush"? Did he fantasize about Gambit when we made love? The thought made my heart plummet. But then I told myself that perhaps this conversation was a result of the pseudo-therapy he's been having with Nightcrawler. He **has** been a lot more communicative since meeting with Kurt regularly; he's been more open and talkative about everything. So maybe, I thought, I should take it at face value and assume that he really just wants to get something off his chest.
"What are you thinking of, amour?" he asked, stroking one of my cheeks.
Since we were being honest, I told him.
He paused and waited before answering, sounding thoughtful. I stepped away from our hug so I could see the expression on his face better. "I will say that I think Gambit is tres magnifique. But when I'm making love to you, I'm making love to **you**, and not to a fantasy." He then added, "And Bobby, you know that I am attracted to you still. I always have been." He smiled. "I fancied you as soon as we saw each other, as soon as we found our way back to the X-men."
I looked into his eyes, and I saw honesty on his face. I nodded. "Okay. Cool."
He reached for my rear end and squeezed it, likening it to two blueberries. I smiled, and he smiled back.
Later that day, I told him that I was glad we had that discussion, and that I hoped we'd continue to be able to talk about things such as this. He agreed with me.
In all honesty, I can't say I felt thrilled to learn that the man I loved had the hots for someone else. And I also can't help but remember how pissed off he was at me when he learned that I'd slept with that guy on Ceti III. At the time that happened, Jean-Paul and I had been together for a very, very brief amount of time; we'd never even discussed whether our relationship was exclusive. Yet when I told him what had happened, he was furious. And now, today, he expected me to be just fine upon hearing of his "like" for Gambit.
But he hadn't done anything to break the commitment we had with each other; unlike what I'd done on Ceti III, he hadn't slept with anyone else. And he is only human; you get crushes on other people and that's just the way it is. I do know that he loves me and I trust him, so I just had to accept this. I guess I should've been grateful that he brought it up.
Besides, it's not like I had a choice.
*****************
As Queen Marina left the meeting with her Executive Council, she felt satisfied. Although she had recently survived a censure, things had been returning to normal. Friends of Humanity starships were nowhere in sight, and most Endarians were content to basic forget about the intrusion from outsiders. Marina's power and influence over the council had taken a blow but was slowly regaining its former stature. She was a powerful and well-liked monarch, and she figured that she would stay that way – so long as FOH had the brains to leave Endaria alone.
There were those Endarians who advocated for the removal of the off-worlders from An'zhina, but they were a minority. Under Endarian law, they had a right to express their opinion, a right to dissent. As long as they remained a small minority, the Queen did not need to worry and the X-men and other mutants would likely remain on An'zhina.
Marina's pregnancy was progressing well. She was now over five months pregnant. Her pregnancy was visible, and she was receiving numerous well-wishes from her subjects. The birth would be a joyous, and very celebrated, event. Marina consulted with her close, personal doctor – the only doctor who had served her since she was a child. The doctor recently performed a test and discovered that the baby, a girl, carried the mutant gene. Precisely what Marina had hoped for was underway.
Endarian society being what it was, no one inquired as to the identity of the father. The father of her son Kotarian was one of Marina's closest friends. As they did not adhere to monogamy, no Endarians really thought it odd that the queen did not disclose the name of the father. As long as a given regent proved him- or herself a strong and capable leader, the people did not care who the regent might have slept with. Whether or not the baby's mutant powers would manifest themselves right away was yet to be determined. It was possible that some xenophobes would deduce the truth of the child's parentage and react negatively. As long as Marina could maintain a handle on the situation – keeping An'zhina quiet with no more interference from FOH or the Pirates---, the Queen did not foresee any serious trouble.
Marina had, more or less, broken off communication with the mutants on An'zhina. She did not want Charles Xavier roaming about her mind; nor did she want any of them to see that she was pregnant. Any necessary communications with the X-men were conducted through one of Marina's advisors. Communication with those on the moon was not really needed much at all; An'zhina ran itself.
********************
Jubilee lay on the bed, gazing at her lover. In the darkness of the room they shared, a few details could be seen – the nightlight provided illumination and Jubilee's eyes had adjusted to the dark. Her eyes roamed over Sam's slender but muscular build. She smiled at the sight of his large hands, so big compared to her petite ones with their short fingers. She loved his smile and wished he had one on his face now.
"Are you sleeping?" Jubilee whispered. She kept her voice low so as to not wake Rory. It seemed that the toddler could sleep through anything, but she still didn't want to risk anything. It had grown too cramped with Jubilee, Cannonball, and Rory all in one room, so Sam and Wolverine had knocked down a wall between two rooms to create one larger one. It gave all three more space, though the rooms on board Freedom were still small and utilitarian, unlike An'zhina's spacious rooms. The same arrangement – of having combined two rooms into one larger space – worked for Jean, Scott and their brood.
"No," Sam replied quietly. The melancholy was evident in his voice.
Jubilee turned on her side and gently touched his chest. She whispered again, "Is it about….you know? I mean, I like it. I do --- it's good."
Talking about sex would never be easy or natural, Jubilee felt. Despite all the open conversations she'd had with the other women and how often they stressed the importance of communicating with one's partner, discussions of sex without blushing didn't come without unease. And talking frankly about sex was difficult despite the fact that Sam was **the** person she made love with. `Sheesh, it should be easy to talk about anything with the person you get naked with four times a week!'
"No, sweetie, I'm fine with it," Sam said, holding her hand in his. "I like it too. I mean, if you're okay with it, then I'm okay with it."
"I told you, Sam, I like it." Attaining arousal, for Jubilee, was not a problem but orgasm was. The couple had accepted the fact that Jubilee rarely or never got an orgasm during intercourse, and they had found ways to deal with it. Generally, Sam would go down on her beforehand or he'd stroke her afterwards, and she usually came then. Sometimes she didn't reach orgasm no matter what, and she truthfully told Sam that she was alright with that.
"Somethin' else is bothering you then," Jubilee said.
Sam nodded, though Jubilee could barely see the gesture. Jubilee had to gently pry it out of him.
Finally Sam admitted, though his words were of no surprise, "I miss my family."
"Oh, Sam. I know you do. It's such a bummer that we're stranded here. You gotta believe that we're gonna get out of here sooner or later."
"I dunno, Jubilee. Last I talked to Cyclops, he didn't sound too optimistic. He said the shuttle repair is goin' real slow. And they stopped working on the engines."
Jubilee nodded. Hank had told her that cleaning the damage caused by the pea-sized asteroids was akin to open-heart surgery. They were petrified of making any mistakes.
Sam continued, "I can't stand bein' all cooped up in here any more."
"But they said in a few more weeks, the weather's gonna get better. Hank said it could even get in the thirties and forties, and the sun will come out too. We can spend more than a few minutes outside." The X-men had even discussed setting up tents outdoors. It would probably be too cold to sleep there during the night, but they could spend the better part of the days outside, shielded from the sun's rays by the tents, playing games and eating meals outdoors.
"I guess that'll help. But it ain't gonna bring me any closer to my folks or Paige."
"I know, sweetie," Jubilee murmured sympathetically, holding his hand tighter.
Sam wondered whether Jubilee truly understood. She'd never known her biological family. Her family had been, from the time she was fourteen years old, the X-men. And as dismal as their circumstances seemed, she was here with her family – most of them, at least. Except for Storm, the family members Jubilee seemed closest to – Wolverine, Bobby, Beast --- were all here with her as well. She didn't truly feel the agonizing separation from family that Sam endured. He liked the X-men and had been accepted at once, but he couldn't say that he fully regarded them as his family yet.
"I don't even know what's happened to them. Has FOH got their hands on them? They were always…being treated badly for spawning a mutant. At the…at the time I left to stay with the Greys, people were after them all the time 'cause of me. Our house got egged, Paige got beat up at school. They threw bricks through our windows one night. I hugged Paige as she cried. I kept wishing I wasn't a 'mutie.'" After Sam went into hiding, the Guthries were able to get word to the Greys a few times, saying that they were alright. It was of slim comfort to Sam though.
"That totally sucks," Jubilee murmured. She couldn't think of anything consoling to say. Sam's fears about his family's fate were probably well-founded, from what they knew of earth. There were no X-men to fight against FOH, and no sympathizers like Moira MacTaggert or the Greys left to assist. The Guthries might very well have been taken into custody by FOH. Or worse. "I wish there was something I could say. Or do about it," Jubilee added.
"Well, I don't still wish I wasn't a mutant," Sam said, trying to dismiss his pain. "I'm okay with that. I'm just worried 'bout my family."
"Who knows? Maybe things got better on earth. Remember when Jean was in the soldier's minds to convince them to not use the virus? Maybe she planted some seeds of doubt in their minds and things started to change. Heck, maybe groups of mutants are rising up and revolting on their own." Jubilee tried to utter the words with conviction. Occasionally, various X-men had discussions along these lines. They were now so cut off from earth, it was anyone's guess what was going on there. Jubilee thought it might have been Wolverine who pointed out one day that the X-men weren't the only mutants capable of fighting back. Maybe others had risen up in their absence and led a revolution.
"Or maybe things are worse than ever."
"We just don't know. We gotta --- "
"That's just it," Sam cut her off. "I can't stand not knowing! I can't be sittin' around here, wondering and guessing what they're doing to my family --- or all the other mutants on earth. I can't believe Beast let this happen."
Jubilee and Cannonball were silent after his last statement. Public criticism of Hank for his negligence on the bridge was never vocalized. Jubilee really didn't know what other people thought of it. She gossiped openly with Bobby but he never had anything negative to say about his best friend, of course. She guessed that most people cut Beast slack for his blunder. She herself harbored no ill-will towards the gentle man who had shown her nothing but kindness. From what Jubilee could tell, it was an honest mistake and besides, Hank had been undergoing such emotional stress. Stress that he never really shared with anyone. Bobby had not betrayed Hank's confidence but he had told Jubilee enough that she was able to deduce that Hank's marriage was in trouble. 'Well it's not exactly a secret,' Jubilee thought.
Whatever the case, if others resented Hank for his negligence, no one verbalized it.
"It ain't his fault," Sam said softly. "I know it. I could've made the same mistake. I worry 'bout that sometimes too," he sighed. "All the stuff I've done in the gym and Danger Room….I dunno how much it made me ready for real combat. Someday I could mess up on the battlefield." He had kept these feelings bottled up. And he understood why so many people back on An'zhina chose to "vacation" instead of join; being an X-man was stressful, an unending battlefield.
"We all make mistakes at one time or another. But, hey, we always find a way out. I made enough mistakes too but the others always let me off the hook. If you mess up in combat, don't worry."
"Don't worry? I recall hearing 'bout one time that mistakes were made in battle and Colossus ended up dead."
Jubilee's throat constricted at the thought of the gentle giant who had been murdered in cold blood by FOH. She had not been there when it happened, but the stories she'd been told were disturbing enough. She remembered Bobby once telling her of the FOH soldiers demanding that the imprisoned X-men toss Peter's corpse through the airlock. Bobby had watched mutely as the others, forced to obey due to the collar torture, relinquished Peter's dead body to the soldiers. Jubilee pushed these thoughts out of her mind.
"Sam. Sweetie. You can't get hung up on this kinda stuff."
"Course not. We ain't going anywhere, so what's the use?"
Jubilee tried to console her lover, but he continued to toss and turn that night long after Jubilee had fallen asleep.
********************
"I don't need another physical, Alexander," Storm insisted.
"I'm not saying that it will cure everything. But it couldn't hurt if you'd let me examine you again."
Storm cracked an uncharacteristically wry smile, "Why, Alexander, if I did not know you better, I would think that you just want an excuse to see me undressed."
The corners of his mouth threatened to turn upwards, but he willed them down. "Storm, please. I've never asked you to undress for a physical, and I would be content with another tricorder scan." He refrained from adding that tricorder scans were never, in his honest opinion as a medical professional, as comprehensive as a full exam with a partially undressed patient.
She sighed and shook her head. "I'm fine, Alexander. Physically I feel much better. It's up here," she said, gesturing to her temple. "I'm still shaking out some cobwebs. But I am physically fine."
"I see that I'll have to take your word for it." He paused and then added "That's a nice bracelet." When Storm had touched the side of her head, the wooden bracelet had gone into prominent view. Alexander had noticed it before, and he commented on it now, realizing he was fighting a hopeless battle over the examination issue.
"Wolverine made it for me," Storm said. She could not explain why, but she felt the urge to remove the ornament from her wrist and hand it to him. The color of one of the stones on the bracelet was somewhere between coral and amber.
Alexander held it, read the inscription. "He's a lucky man," the doctor said enigmatically. Storm could not decipher whether there were any subtleties behind his words. His compliment could have been taken as flirtation or as a simple pleasantry. But Storm recalled Alexander's words one day -- he was taking a break from sex and relationships, so she determined that there lurked no hidden subtext behind his compliment.
"I am truly the lucky one." She smiled as she replaced the trinket on her wrist. She then added wistfully, "Of course I shall be luckier when Wolverine and I reunited."
"You won't be the only one. I look forward to getting off this ship too." Although Psylocke had been non-committal, it seemed that she would allow Alexander to disembark on An'zhina when the Pirates dropped off Moonstar and Storm.
"We have just under eight months left before the Pirates are slated to return us to the X-men." Storm had been fastidiously tracking the time, as she knew Marrow had been too. She silently added that there was no guarantee that the X-men –Wolverine included---would actually **be** on An'zhina when the Pirates dropped them off. They could be on a mission, still near earth. Storm could only hope and pray.
Alexander shook his head. "Eight more months of Psylocke hitting on me. This is not going to be easy."
"Alexander, let me talk to her about this," Storm insisted. She had made the overture before, offering to mention this too when she confronted Psylocke about her earlier actions against Storm. "She needs to be told that enough is enough."
"No, no," Alexander said, declining the offer once more. "I can handle it myself."
Storm shook her head, affably muttering, "I shall never understand how some men's minds operate. You, Alexander, are stubborn as an ox."
'Just like Wolverine', she silently added.
********************
The planet's weather continued to slowly improve. Although it was still too cold to remain outdoors for extended periods of time, most X-men ventured outside for brief periods of time around mid-day, when the sun shone its brightest.
Snow still covered the ground, though much less had been falling lately.
"Bet if I get a shovel and start diggin', we maybe can see the ground underneat'," Gambit speculated to Hank one day.
"The composition of the ground should be similar to grass on Earth, according to preliminary read-outs," Hank commented. "My readings suggest that the grass here has a surprisingly similar composition."
Hank and Gambit were taking a walk. The sun shone more brightly on this planet than usual today, though it was still weak. Hank glanced over his shoulder. The starship was still within reassuring visual range.
"Are you warm enough?" Hank asked, after a while of silence.
"Don't t'ink I'll ever be warm enough on dis freezin' planet," Gambit muttered, thankful for the woolly scarf and gloves he worse. "But I'm okay. I s'ppose all dat fur keep you nice and warm, huh?"
"I was just contemplating how much I appreciate my coat. It insulates my body from cold temperatures, while paradoxically not stifling me in the heat."
"Nature knew what it was doin' when it built you. Wonder if your li'l boy gonna have the same fur coat as you."
"Panda and I speculated on that many times," Hank said, wistfully. "Rob is a mutant, but we can not foresee the nature of his mutation. Of course….I wonder if perhaps he is showing signs already. Although most mutants do not display the nature of their mutation until puberty, Charlotte revealed her abilities at a young age. Perhaps…perhaps as we speak, Panda can observe the nature of Rob's mutation. I spend many hours wondering about this."
Hank then clamed up and looked at the ground. Gambit took a good look at his friend's pained expression. He said, somberly, "I wonder which be worse. My baby didn't make it. Yours did, but you be separated from him and your wife."
"Neither of us is in an ideal situation," Hank acknowledged, "though I suppose comparing grief is not productive." He sighed. "The poet Edgar Lee Masters once wrote, 'It takes life to love life.'"
Gambit nodded. He could now talk about the miscarriage without feeling each aching stab at his heart. He knew that Rogue was getting to that point as well. "The bad times help us appreciate the good," he agreed.
"We must believe that better times are approaching," Hank said, as they continued to walk towards the light of the waning sun.
*********************
The previous day, Storm had announced that she was ready. Over a lunch of bright red peppers stuffed with navy beans, garlic, and parsley (the garlic and parsley courtesy of Alexander), Storm told Dani and Alexander that she planned to talk to Psylocke the next day.
"Too much time has passed already," Storm said. "It's been weeks since she decided to use her powers against me and she acts as though nothing occurred. I want to talk with her."
"Storm, really….how're you doing?" Dani asked. She chewed another bite and couldn't help but to feel trepidation over the inevitable confrontation. Suddenly the hearty dish tasted less flavorful in her mouth.
"I am alright, Dani," Storm said. "Physically, I feel nearly as strong as usual – and you both saw in the gym this morning that my powers are functioning."
"Yeah, but didn't you say it was up **here** that she got you?" Dani asked, gesturing to her temple.
"My mind does not feel as sharp as it once did. I feel a….slowness that I am unaccustomed to. But I am truly alright."
"Only you can tell us if you're ready, mentally," Alexander said. "Physically, you were in good condition at your last physical."
"I still have control over my powers," Storm agreed.
Realizing that she stood no chance of dissuading her friend, Moonstar simply said, "If she tries anything, just hit your communicator. I'll be standing by. And you're not the only one who's been putting in her time at the gym, remember."
Alexander nodded. "Indeed. It was thrilling to see your powers in action, Dani."
Moonstar had been training rigorously. With Alexander's consent, she pulled an image from his mind and created a three-dimensional manifestation of it. The two had felt flashes of terror at the image of the fierce FOH solider, until Storm shot a few lightening bolts its way, dissolving the mirage. The session had been frightening and thrilling; Dani could not recall feeling so powerful in quite a long time.
With the blessings of her friends, Storm contacted Psylocke and arranged a time for the two to meet.
"What brings you to see me, Storm?" Psylocke asked at the appointed time. She was sitting back in a cozy reclining chair. Storm had just entered Psylocke's room, and Psylocke crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Storm fleetingly noticed how odd it was that she rarely saw some of those with whom she shared a starship. On board Freedom, people congregated together in the gym or rec room, and they all ate meals together. One never went for stretches of days without seeing all of one's crewmates. But on board the Vengeance, Storm rarely found herself in the gym at the same time as Betsy and, despite a few cooking adventures with the crew, they usually did not share meals. To Storm, the Vengeance often felt like a ghost ship, if not for Dani and Alexander. Off-hand, Storm could not recall the last time she had even seen Psylocke.
She surveyed Psylocke's posture. As always, Betsy looked in control and spoke with an air of authority. She clearly loved being in charge here, having command of a team in a way that she never would have had as an X-man. After spending several months with the Pirates, it became evident to Storm that Psylocke really did run the show; Marrow took a lesser role, especially with her attentions focussed constantly on Moonstar. Psylocke had not let up on her pursuit of Alexander, but she was apparently less in need of immediate gratification. Storm surmised that Psylocke was enjoying the hunt.
"I need to talk to you about something, Psylocke," Storm said, deciding to dispose of any small talk and pleasantries. Without being asked, she seated herself in a chair opposite Psylocke and sat up straight. "The day that the Pirates attacked the FOH ship," she began, realizing that she could not recall the name of the FOH vessel. Storm silently berated herself. Her memory never used to cause problems such as these. "You did something to me, to render me unconscious."
"I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't interfere with our plans," Psylocke said smoothly.
"I had already given my vow that I would not. You know you can trust my word. And besides…Betsy, you have the ability to read minds. You would have known if I had been planning to stop you. Surely your powers are strong enough that you could have detected any hint of a planned insurrection from me."
"True," Psylocke said, attempting to keep her voice steady and her gaze fixed on Storm. Storm had her there. Psylocke **had** indeed known that Storm would not attempt to impede them.
"So, why did you do it, Psylocke? Did you want to gain some control over me?" The next sentence went unspoken, 'Did you really just want to hurt me?' Storm would never voice those words, though she knew Betsy's action had been all about power and control.
"Like I said," Psylocke began, not meeting Storm's steel blue eyes this time, "I needed to make sure you wouldn't interfere."
Storm remained silent for a few seconds, not wanting to take the conversation in circles. She also knew that keeping silent held some power in her court. Finally, she said, "I gave you my word that I would not. I now need you to give me your word that you will never do anything like that to me again."
Psylocke took in a breath. "Alright," she said. "You have my word."
Storm left that room feeling mentally confident, a powerful gust of wind trailing her heels.
*********************
Babysitting Rob became a community pastime for those on An'zhina. Rob was the only baby on the moon; the other children were much older.
"He's a good kid," Megan said, as she returned the baby to his mother.
"Call us --- we like to see baby again," Kin Lun added in heavily-accented English.
Panda nodded as she watched them go down the hallway. Rob was asleep. She lifted him from the stroller into his crib. She then sat herself back down in the cushiony chair and gazed out the window.
After time had passed – Panda had no idea how much --- the rumblings in her abdominal region indicated the dinner hour must be near. Silently, she debated whether or not to go. Dinner with the 300 other An'zhinians meant facing their smiles and well-wishes, watching them coo over Rob. It meant forcing her own smile. But another meal eaten in her own room was an almost equally dismal prospect, and it was sure to be followed – at some point -- by another well-meaning visit from the Professor.
Panda sighed and made up her mind. She bundled up Rob inside his stroller and pushed him in the direction of the dining room.
"There you are, lass. How good ta see you," Moira MacTaggert greeted from her table.
"Hi, Moira," Panda muttered, steering the stroller away from that direction. She couldn't face Moira right now, didn't want to have to again deny her offer of counseling (or "listening", as Moira called it) again.
The following day, Panda decided to leave the building. She didn't go outside every day; all necessary amenities were inside the main complex. But she didn't have a babysitter just then and felt that Rob could use the fresh air.
"May I hold him?"
"Sure," Panda replied, without looking up to see who made the offer. When she did look, she had to narrow her eyes at the brightness of Elena's pink skin.
It was a surprise to see Elena standing before her. Since the death of Elena's boyfriend Colossus, the pink-skinned Russian woman had withdrawn. She appeared occasionally at events on An'zhina, and certainly the Professor and others had reached out to her too. Panda had dim memories of the Russian congratulating her when Rob was born, but since that time, Panda could not recall having another conversation with her. Panda silently reminded herself to make the effort to be pleasant to Elena. She had suffered as much as anyone.
Elena fussed over the baby. Rob, cranky for his naptime, began to cry.
"Oh no!" Elena exclaimed.
"It's not you. He's tired. Here," she gestured for Elena to hand the baby over. "Time for his nap." Rob wailed louder.
"Can I help you take him to his nap? Maybe we can sit down and talk too."
To most others, Panda would have declined the offer. She reminded herself of Elena's loss and muttered, "Sure."
Panda couldn't explain what it was that made her open up to Elena that day. Perhaps it was the fact that Elena wasn't connected to the X-men in the way that Moira was. She didn't blame Elena for Hank's absence. Sitting inside her room, Rob having fallen sound asleep, Panda began to talk to the Russian woman.
"How could he leave me like this? How could he leave **him**?" she asked, gesturing at Rob's crib. She clenched her hands together in rage.
Elena sat silently, listening. She did not make any remarks such as 'He was only doing his duty as an X-man,' for which Panda was eternally grateful.
Before he departed An'zhina, Hank had recorded his voice onto a tape to be played for Rob, so that the baby would become familiarized with his father. Panda had played the tape for Rob only twice, or perhaps three times.
"I don't know if I can ever forgive him for this," Panda continued. She forced herself to slow down and take a breath. Her voice returned to a somewhat more normal tone. "And where the hell **are** the X-men, anyway? They've been gone for so long."
Elena mutely nodded. She had wondered about that herself. Had they encountered trouble again? She, too, had lost a man she cared deeply about because he was performing his duty as an X-man.
"And I'm going out of my mind trapped here," she added, shaking her head. "The others are great with offering to baby-sit Rob, but **I'm** the one who gets woken up in the middle of the night when he cries. I'm the one who changes his diaper. No one takes care of him like I do. And I do it all alone."
Elena looked at her. She herself had hoped someday to become a mother, that someday she and her beloved Peter Rasputin would wed. She listened, though, with genuine empathy for Panda.
*********************
So he's hot for Gambit. I can live with that. He's only human, and Gambit's a good looking guy. Actually, "good looking" doesn't quite cut it, does it? He's downright sexy. I mean, **I** don't really view him that way; I've always seen him as a good friend. But I can't blame anyone who finds him hot.
The four of us played cards one evening: Jean-Paul, Remy, Rogue and myself. I kept watching the two of them out of the corner of my eye, looking for any hints or clues. I don't know why I did it; I believed Jean-Paul when he said he would be faithful. And there was no way that Remy was going to cheat on Rogue. (Besides, if anyone on this ship was having an affair, we'd all know it.)
But there was a glint in Jean-Paul's eyes. I had seen that glint before, usually reserved for me. I'd seen it when he was around Gambit too. I looked down at my cards, trying to make enough sense out of them to continue the game. 'He loves me, but I'm not sexy the way Remy is.' I made myself stop; those self-pitying thoughts would only make me want to cry. It was me who Jean-Paul held in his arms at night.
But I'm not sexy the way Gambit is.
"Hey, Bobby, you still in this game?" Rogue teased, waving a hand in front of my face. Ooops. It was my turn. I set down a card, hoping it was a good one.
I took heart. Thanks to the rumor mill, I knew all about the "triangle" between Jean, Scott, and Wolverine. Though the triangle was now a thing of the past, I knew the scoop. According to word on the street, Jean **had** been attracted to Wolverine (some said very attracted), but she hadn't cheated on Scott. Would Jean-Paul show the same fidelity? `It doesn't matter,' I told myself for the hundredth time. `Remy's not going to return what Jean-Paul feels for him.' But, I answered myself, that's not the point. The point is what Jean-Paul feels when it's not directed at me. It wasn't so much fears of a physical tryst between them that bothered me as much fears of Jean-Paul withdrawing emotionally.
The thoughts continued to loop themselves around and around my mind.
I wondered if Gambit knew of Jean-Paul's crush. Silently, I chided myself. Of course he knew. Remy seems to know everything; he always does. The question was, did Rogue know? She's suffered through so much; her normal vivaciousness was still smothered by the loss of the baby. Maybe she had no idea. And besides, Remy sure didn't return Jean-Paul's crush, so what did she have to worry about?
She was lucky, I decided.
********************
Sometimes it seemed that the days just dragged by. Other times, I could not believe how many weeks Hank said had passed since we became stranded. We all kept busy enough though.
"How are the shuttle repairs?" I asked Hank, almost fearful of the answer.
He responded that it was akin to performing microsurgery. I knew it; he and Cyclops were petrified of making a mistake. With the engines damaged perhaps beyond repair, there was absolutely no room for them to make mistakes on their work with the shuttle.
The weather was warming up. We bundled ourselves in layers of clothing and enjoyed a snowball fight outside. The snow was melting furiously; Hank predicted it would be one of the last few days we could use the snow for fun, and Cyclops agreed. "The temperature's going to be in the forties and fifties next week," he said. That didn't sound too warm by earth standards, but after what we'd been living with, it would be paradise. We already were making plans to set up tents and perhaps a volleyball net.
********************
Wolverine retired to his quarters late one night. He reached into his dresser drawer and pulled out an envelope. The envelope contained the most precious items on board this ship, in his estimation. Pictures of Storm.
The Endarians allowed the mutants on An'zhina to replicate cameras, and Wolverine had taken a few pictures of the woman he loved. One was a close-up of her face. She looked pensive, resting her head on the palm of her hand and gazing out a window. Looking at her beautiful face nearly made Wolverine sigh, even though he had seen this picture countless times since their separation. He viewed the faraway expression in her blue eyes, wondering what she was thinking of at the moment that picture had been taken and what she was thinking of today.
He looked at the other photographs. In one, Storm wore a blue dress with a short skirt. It was taken before one of their dancing lessons with Agata. He'd agreed to take the classes with her. Wolverine felt Storm looked best in blue. Her glossy white hair shone, and the short skirt emphasized her long legs. Another photograph, taken by a fellow An'zhinian, showed Wolverine and Storm standing with their arms around each other. He was smiling.
The rest of the pictures were taken solely by Logan. One showed Storm sitting on the grass of the forest's floor, a stirring look in her eyes. After Wolverine had snapped that picture, Storm had started to remove her clothing. "I want you to photograph me in the nude," Storm had said simply. Wolverine had not been about to argue with that idea.
The next three pictures were from that photo session. A playful shot showed Storm perched on a branch of a tall tree. She was smiling, elated at frolicking around naked in her beloved outdoors. The next picture was one of Logan's favorites. Storm lay on her back, next to a pond that was nestled inside the deep forest. Her feet were crossed at the ankles, and her head was tilted back. It was a sensual picture; she looked so at home and so connected to her senses, laying on the ground naked and relaxed, an exquisitely beautiful creature of nature. The third picture showed Storm emerging from the pond, her brown skin glistening with water. Her hands were behind her neck, squeezing water out of her hair. Her lush breasts figured prominently, hanging down like ripe fruit.
The adored pictures were sorry substitutes for the real thing. Gazing at Storm's lips wouldn't allow Logan to kiss them, nor would looking at her breasts allow him to touch their softness. He craved the taste and scent of her womanhood.
It was time for another paltry substitute. Wolverine unbuttoned his pants and reached for his already stiff member. Stroking it, he thought of Storm, how much he ached to hold her, ached to make love to her. Tonight he had to relieve a physical need; he frantically gripped himself. Physical pleasure pumped through his veins, it burned; he needed to be released. Logan continued to stroke until the stickiness spilled from him. He went to bed that night knowing that he would somehow continue to possess the strength to survive another day deprived of Storm. Somehow.
Meanwhile, across the galaxy, Storm had an evening filled with similar loneliness and yearning. She carefully set the bracelet Logan had made for her on the nightstand, as she shuffled through her photographs of herself and her lover. She had snapped his picture one day, outdoors as he had been doing woodworking. He was shirtless. She loved the smile on his face, the adoring look that he'd given Storm behind the camera. She longed to grab him by the hair and smother him with kisses and words of love. She looked again at the photograph, noting the tantalizing view of his strong arms and shoulders. Her heart pounded with love as she felt a corresponding need from elsewhere.
Storm then reached for a toy. Dani had asked Marrow for permission to replicate it, ostensibly for Dani herself; she'd wanted to save Storm from any embarrassment. Storm had the dildo by her side as she slowly touched herself all over, starting with her own arms and shoulders. She lightly scored the skin, giving herself goosebumps. Her hands traveled down, cupping and massaging her breasts before lovingly touching her taut abdomen. She stroked her soft, muscular thighs, grateful for all they did for her and savoring the sensations she experienced.
Storm then spread her legs and leisurely made her way towards her clit. She unhurriedly stroked it for several long moments, remembering how Logan used to do this to her. Firmly, expertly. She slid the dildo inside. It was large, as Logan was large.
Storm gripped the tool, thrusting it in and out of her body. She shuddered a small climax. Before falling asleep that night, she prayed to the Mother Goddess that she and her lover would soon be reunited.
****************
TO BE CONTINUED
Author's Note
Well, I guess this last scene was very appropriate because last time I asked you to vote for your first and second favorite couple in the series. Storm and Wolverine won, but only by a hair. Rogue and Gambit were behind by a mere one vote. Those two couples left all the others in the dust, but other pairings receiving votes were Bobby and Northstar, and Dani and Marrow.
As always, I love to hear from readers! Reach me at stormkpr@usa.net