xXx
Ororo awoke to find herself immersed in almost complete darkness. The silver moonbeams streaming in from the window illuminated the room only slightly. She lifted her head, and was surprised to feel something soft and warm beneath her. Cautiously, she brought her hand up to feel the thing under her, and was greeted by the rough texture of denim, and then the softer touch of cotton as she moved her hand up. Still dazed from her semi-conscious state, she moved her hand up farther, under the cotton to the source of the heat, and felt soft skin there. Then, her hand touched something else, something that felt thick, and furry.
Her mind jumped back to the events of almost a month ago, and she gasped and sprang away from the body that lay beneath hers, landing on her behind on the carpeted floor. In the darkness, she heard a grunt and then the rustling of fabric as the other person sat up on the sofa.
"Storm?" he asked, through his own half-asleep haze, "You OK, darlin'?" The only answer he got was the sound of heavy breathing, as she tried to catch her breath.
"Yes," she breathed, "I'm fine, Logan." Her head was still spinning with the realization that she had just felt him up as she crossed the room to click on her desk-top lamp, flooding the room with soft, yellow light.
"How'd ya sleep?" Logan inquired, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"Better than I have in days. No nightmares; I don't even think that I dreamed at all. I was simply…out from the minute I closed my eyes," she said.
"Yeah, you pretty much were," he told her, "I guess I was more tired than I thought. I stayed up almost all last night."
"Why?" asked Storm, her question catching Logan off-guard.
"Oh…umm…I…" he stammered before finding a good excuse, "I got so used to sleeping in the heat that when they fixed the air conditioner it was just too damn cold in my room." She chuckled, and Logan gave her a dazed smile. He'd be god-damned if he was going to tell Storm that the real reason for his sleepless night was that he'd been burying the water-logged corpse of her attacker. Somehow, he didn't think that it would ease her mind at all to hear something like that.
A comfortable silence lingered around them for a few more minutes as Storm worked to straighten out the papers on her desk and Logan smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes. The chimes of a grandfather clock rang throughout the house, making both of them jump, and provoking a gasp from the weather witch. The clock struck twice and was then silent.
"Oh, Goddess," Storm giggled lightly at her own shock, and also Logan's.
"Some big, bad superheroes we are, huh?" he asked playfully, managing to get another smile from her, "Damn, it's two in the morning. We slept for almost seven hours."
"Yes," Storm agreed, and then, more to herself than to Logan, she said, "Everyone's asleep."
"Yeah, I guess they are. Why?" was the response.
"Oh, no special reason," she said, "I was just thinking that if everyone were asleep, then there wouldn't be anyone in the garden."
Logan nodded, "Yeah, I guess that would stand to reason."
"Oh, umm…I'm sorry for letting myself wander off like that," Storm apologized, "I was just…thinking out loud."
"About what?" asked Logan. Storm bit her lip out of concern that what she was about to say would sound silly to him, but then she thought of how understanding he had been about everything else thus far, and opened her mouth to speak.
"I was thinking that I wanted to go down to the garden and take a walk…and maybe do a bit of wind riding," she confided, "I've been too tired and, ultimately, too miserable to even consider leaving my rooms this past month. I've missed flying; it used to be so soothing to me, like therapy."
"Well, I think ya should go down and do it, Storm, if it helps ya out that much," Logan said, but she just shook her head and turned away.
"I don't want to go out there alone. Night-time always makes me nervous now; I don't like to be by myself at night. I hate to be so paranoid, but I'm so scared of what could happen to me," she answered, lowering her head. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was Logan who broke the silence.
"I could go with ya," he offered.
"You'd really like to?" she asked, "I mean, you're not just offering because you feel that you have to, or you should?"
"No, no, I'd be happy to," he replied, "That is, if ya don't mind me watchin' ya fly." He gave her the naughtiest smile that he dared to, under the circumstances, and she giggled.
"I hate to disappoint you, but I think that I'm going to keep my clothes on this time. I feel better when I'm clothed these days, anyway," she threw back at him.
"Whatever suits you best, darlin'," he said, getting up from the couch and offering her his hand. She took it gratefully and the two exited the office.
xXx
Logan rested his back against the trunk of a tree as he watched Storm fly in circles around the garden, starting off slowly and close to the ground, and then rising higher and higher as she gained more confidence. She flew so high up into the cloud cover that, for a minute, he could not see her. Quickly, however, she sent the clouds away, making the night clear as crystal, so that the stars and the moon could dazzle the earth. She began to fly away from the garden until she was out of Logan's sight, and, when she didn't return within the space of five minutes, his heart began to pound and he felt sweat forming on his chest.
"Whoa, boy," he said to himself, "Don't stress yourself out; she's only been gone a little while. She's coming back."
He came out from under the partial obstruction of the tree leaves and searched the sky for any sign of her, but could find none no matter how he strained to see.
"Come on, Storm, don't do this to me," he found himself thinking.
Suddenly, there was a whooshing noise coming from behind him, and, before he could even think about turning around, he felt pressure on his back, and was knocked facedown onto the grass.
"What the hell?" he cried out angrily, and was answered by the sound of soft, feminine laughter. He turned around and sat up, beholding the sight of Storm standing over him, her clothes and hair rumpled from flight and a huge, teasing smile on her face.
"I got you!" she laughed, merriment shining in her eyes for the first time in quite a while. Even before her life had been shattered by the sexual attack on her, Storm had been overworked and overstressed. Even a smile from her was a rare thing to see. Logan was glad to see her so happy and playful, but he feigned anger at her.
"Oh, I can't believe this!" he said. In one fluid motion, so fast that Storm couldn't have stopped him if she tried, he reached for the front of her shirt and pulled her onto the ground next to him, using his arms to pin her where she lay.
"Now who's got who?" he asked, bringing his hand down to her neck and gently tickling her. Immediately, she erupted into another fit of giggles.
"No, Logan, no!" she managed through her uncontrollable laughter, "I'm so ticklish…"
"Oh, that was the wrong thing to say to me!" Logan told her, tickling her everywhere that he could. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms, but couldn't shake him from her. He tickled ruthlessly, until he could see that she was running out of breath. He moved his hands away from her and let her go. She lay back against the ground as she attempted to catch her breath.
"Who would've thought that the weather witch would be ticklish?" he asked out loud, "Next time we're in the Danger Room, I think I'm gonna program it so that we fight against a horde of tickling robots. You'd be completely helpless, and I'd have to rescue you." She reached out and gave him a gentle shove.
"Don't you dare!" she cried, turning the tables and pinning him to where he lay. He grabbed both of her arms and rolled her around so that he was the one in control. She smiled up at him and raised herself up from the ground to plant a kiss against his cheek. Her lips were soft, and felt like silk against his rough, stubbled skin. Taken completely aback by her actions, he felt his arms go limp, and she took the opportunity to release herself and stand up.
"Storm," he breathed, turning around to face her. She shook her head and offered her hand to help him up.
"Call me by my name, Logan," she requested, pulling him from the ground, "We've known each other for years now, and I've been using your name since I first met you. Don't you think it's silly to call me by my X-name after all we've been through?"
"Ororo," he said, draping an arm around her. She smiled, nodded, and raised her hand to hold his where it fell on her shoulder. The two of them began to walk forward, neither of them knowing or caring where they might end up.
"Your name's nice, you know. Very unique," he said.
"It's Kenyan. My mother gave it to me. It means 'beautiful' in my native language," she explained. He lowered his mouth to her ear.
"It fits you," he whispered. Ororo felt a blush rising in her cheeks, and she leaned against him as her knees went slightly weak. She looked ahead, and saw that they were heading straight for the small cemetery that she had made for the professor and her two best friends.
"Goddess, Logan," she whispered, "Look at where we are." His eyes had been on her through the entire walk, and he raised his head to observe their surroundings.
"Oh, damn, Ororo. We don't have to go if you don't want to," he said. She shook her head.
"No, it's fine. I like to spend time here. It makes me feel peaceful. Come on," she replied, taking his hand and leading him into the cemetery.
"I wish that I had flowers to bring them," said Ororo as she and Logan took a seat on one of the benches that she'd had placed on the edges of the cemetery. He scanned the three graves and saw that each of them was covered with blooms of every size, shape, and color.
"Looks to me like they have plenty," he assured her.
"I know, but I like to bring them flowers," she confided, "I guess I'm still just superstitious. I feel that their spirits watch over me, and if I stop bringing gifts to them, I think that they'll abandon me."
"They wouldn't abandon you," he said, taking both of her hands in his, "All three of them loved you; they'd never leave you, especially over something as simple as flowers on their graves."
"I used to feel that I needed them, their guidance. I needed to think that they were with me always; I needed to have that belief just to stay sane. Whenever I would have a day that just made me feel that I was breaking down inside, I'd come out here, and talk to all three of them, and it would help me. I could feel them, and that made me feel infinitely better." she told him.
"I hardly ever come here," said Logan, "I don't like to think about them, especially Jean and Chuck."
"I've felt guilty lately, because I haven't come here in such a long time. I still like to carry them with me, but I no longer need them just to survive," she rested her head on his shoulder, "I have you now."
She looked into his face, and their eyes met. On the outside, he was calm and reserved, but still affectionate; gently tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear, but inside, he felt his heart spill over with love. He wanted to speak to her, to tell her how he felt, but, somehow, he felt that now was not the right moment. This was just like a romantic film, and it all felt more perfect than anything in his life had ever been, but the words would not come to him, so he was silent.
He said nothing as she lifted herself up so that her face was level with his, he was quiet as their lips met. Logan returned the kiss eagerly, moving his hands down to clasp her around the waist and pull her closer. She ran her fingers through his hair, and moaned against his lips.
"Ororo," he whispered her name as they broke the kiss, and then he seized her lips once again, taking control, his hands wandering over her arms, her back, her hair. She gasped lightly in panic, but he mistook it for pleasure, and slid his tongue into her mouth. Ororo attempted to keep her mind focused on him, to enjoy his touch and his kiss, but her head spun and kept going back to the events of the night that she was attacked. It wasn't Logan who was touching her; it was the panther-mutant, violating her.
She squealed and pushed him away, retreating to the farthest end of the bench, away from him. Her head fell into her hands and she began to sob and shake. Logan beheld her in shock and concern.
"Ororo?" he asked, "Are you all right?" She shook her head.
"No, I'm not. I'm sorry, Logan. I thought that I could handle it," she wept.
"It's my fault," he said, blaming himself as usual, "I pushed you."
"No, you didn't," she replied, "I started it; I shouldn't have led you on when I wasn't sure that I'd be able to…I'm sorry." She stood up and began to walk away from him.
"Ororo!" he called after her, "Come back, Ororo!" For just a moment, her steps halted, and she considered going to him, falling into his arms and shedding her tears against his strong chest, but she shook her head and resumed her path away from him. He called her name again, and she sobbed loudly and began to run back to the mansion.