Author's Note: All right, so, when I uploaded this last night I was really tired and ended up leaving out an entire section and making all kinds of other errors. Everything's fixed now, hopefully, and I apologize for that and hope that you enjoy the chapter anyway.

xXx

"So this is how you spend all this time in your office?" Logan asked, closing the drawer of the filing cabinet as he shoved the last report card into its proper place, "Somehow I'd pictured something more…official."

Ororo smiled up at him from the screen of her computer.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid that this is it," she confirmed.

"You know, you wouldn't have to do half of this stuff if you would get a secretary," he suggested. She shook her head and grimaced.

"Charles had a secretary once, when I first started going to school here," she told him, "One of the only times I ever saw him absolutely furious was when he found out that not only had she mixed up all of the student transcripts, but she also accidentally hung up on an several incredibly important calls because she didn't know how to use the phone properly. I don't trust secretaries. I get Kitty or Rogue in here sometimes, and they help with some of it, but mostly I prefer to do everything myself. At least then I know that it gets done."

"So, you wouldn't trust a secretary to file the first term report cards away, but you have faith in me?" he asked, semi-jokingly.

"I have a lot of faith in you, Logan," replied Ororo, "I always knew that you had the potential to be very efficient and trustworthy. You just had to settle down first."

"So, in your opinion, I'm 'settled' now?"

"In all of the years that I've known you, I've never seen you more focused on anything than you are when you're teaching," she said. This was met with a simple shrug.

"All I do in my classes is fight, Storm," he pointed out. She shook her head.

"You and I both know that fighting is all instinct. Little to no thought is needed to fight. I've seen you in your classes. Even when I'm not sitting in the control room while you're with the children in the Danger Room, I sometimes watch on the cameras. You're a good teacher, Logan; you really put your mind to training these kids. You have more to offer them as far as a battlefield education goes than even Scott did," Ororo told him.

Logan was taken aback. No one had ever compared him to Scott before. At least, not in a good way. He'd never been the victor in any contest against the man; and the fact that Storm thought that he did something better than Scott meant a lot to him.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, "Scott's form of combat was very refined, and he was heavily reliant on his powers to bail him out of everything. Real-life battle is not always so civilized; the children, especially the ones in X-Men training, need to have well-rounded fighting skills to handle all manner of opponents, and they need to know what to do if ever they cannot use their powers."

"That's what I always thought, too," agreed Logan, basking in the glow of Storm's approval. She gave him a brief smile before returning to her computer work. While busily typing up her lesson plan for the next week of her Advanced World History class, another thought crossed Ororo's mind.

"He wants you," Rogue's voice came back to haunt the older woman as she watched Logan walking over to the copy machine. In her head, Ororo re-played the events of the past hour, the tender way in which Logan had held her, how quickly his compliments, reassurances, and the offer to help her in any way possible had come. Unconsciously, she ran her thumb across her bottom lip while keeping her eyes securely fastened on him.

When he turned around and saw the expression on her face, Logan felt his heart leap, but quickly placated it. Storm was lost in space again, thinking of everything that would need to be done the following day, or something equally as dismal. She couldn't possibly be thinking of him so intently…could she?

"No," he told himself, "The answer is no. Not possible."

"Storm?" asked Logan, shaking her from her reverie, "Anything else I can do for you?"

She hesitated a moment before finding her voice. "Umm…uhh…no. Nothing in particular, but I'll tell you what. I'm starving. If you'll go down to the dining room and grab some dinner for me, you can use my computer to type up your lesson plans while I finish the filing."

Inside, Logan was smiling at the prospect of spending even an hour more in close proximity to her, but, outwardly, he shrugged casually.

"Sure. Why not? My computer's a piece of crap anyway," he said, heading for the door.

"Hmm…I'll buy you a new one," Ororo said dreamily once she was sure that he was out of earshot.

xXx

Logan's head began to whirl as he stared at the screen of Ororo's computer for the third hour in a row. While she had been filing and doing other odd errands around her office, he'd gotten in the time to type up all of his lesson plans for the following week. He'd never felt such an odd mix of efficiency and fatigue in his whole life. What little of it he could remember, of course.

"Ugh," he said, "You mind if I turn your computer off, Storm?" When he got no response, he repeated the question, but was met with silence once again. He looked away from the screen, quickly scanning the room and seeing her curled up in the fetal position on the sofa that sat right in front of her desk. Limp as a rag doll, with her head resting on the arm of the sofa, Ororo was obviously asleep.

It struck Logan as tragic that this was the most serene that he had seen her in such a long time. Only when she slept was his beloved weather witch truly at peace. He found himself wishing that there were something more he could do for her, to put her mind at ease, and to erase the frown of anxiety that always seemed to be on her face these days.

After saving his work and shutting the computer down, Logan approached the sofa slowly, hoping that he wouldn't disturb her slumber. These days, the busy headmistress needed all of the rest that she could get. Besides, he didn't want her to awaken just yet. She was beautiful, like a portrait, and he wanted to study her, every soft curve of her delicate face. His hand was pulled to her cheek as though by magnetic force, and when he touched her skin, it sent an electric jolt up his spine.

Without warning, she groaned and twisted around in her sleep, almost falling off of the sofa. Logan grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her from landing square on the floor, and hauled her back up. Her eyes opened slowly, struggling to focus, and she gave him a look of confusion once she saw his face.

"Wha…what…?" she asked groggily.

"You fell asleep, darlin'," he informed her, "And then you moved in your sleep and almost rolled off the sofa."

"Oh," she said numbly, obviously too exhausted to fully comprehend his words, "could you bring me to my room?"

"Uhh…" Logan stuttered, somewhat surprised at her question before realizing that Ororo wasn't even aware of the words that were coming from her mouth; she was in a haze and cared about nothing but a warm, soft bed. He agreed, taking both of her hands in his and pulling her from the sofa. Instantly, she collapsed into his arms, closing her eyes against his chest and sighing.

"OK, darlin'," he said uneasily, "Let's go put you to bed." She mumbled something inaudible before wrapping her arms around his neck. Logan let out a somewhat frustrated sigh when he realized that she was not going to cooperate with him. Growing impatient, he seized her and took her in his arms like a bride, carrying her out of the office and down the hall.

When he reached the stairs that led to Ororo's attic bedroom, he let out a groan and thanked his lucky stars that the woman in his arms was light as a feather. He climbed the stairs slowly, trying not to be distracted by her warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck as she nuzzled into him like a small child.

"All right, here we are," he said, opening the door to the bedroom and stepping in to deliver Ororo to her bed.

xXx

In her dreams, Ororo saw a flash the purest shade of hell and felt her world being rocked violently. Screams echoed around her as the walls and ceiling collapsed, cutting her off from Mother and leaving her alone, pinned under a huge piece of plaster. She called out for her parents, but her only answer was their screams and the sickening sound of a skull cracking as it was hit with something hard.

"Mama…Papa…" she cried out as she was shaken rudely into consciousness by the bouncing of the mattress below her. Still shivering and breathing heavily, but ultimately wide awake; Ororo looked over towards the source of the unwelcome movement, and almost let out another shriek at what she saw. Logan, fully clothed and uncovered by the bed sheets, was thrashing about in his sleep, moaning in pain and muttering the words "no" and "stop" over and over again.

Concern for him won out over confusion as to why he was in her bed and resentment over him having awakened her, and she attempted to move towards him, but was put off as he turned her way and flailed his arms at some dream-demon. She began to call his name, so softly that it started out as a whisper, but soon built to an order of the sternest proportions as she reached out to shake him awake.

"Come on, Logan, snap out of it," she demanded of him, "Wake up." Urgently, she shook, prompting his eyes to open with one last whine of pain as he slapped her hand away. On impulse, he sat straight up in bed, reaching for the first thing that he could grab. That one thing just happened to be the front of the t-shirt that he had dressed her in last night, hanging loosely from her body. He jerked her towards him so violently that her breath caught in her chest, and his arms around her were insistent; she couldn't shake him.

His chest heaved, and her ear pressed against the place where his heart was, so that she could hear and feel every frightened thud. Goddess, it sounded as though it were trying to rip itself from his chest.

"Logan," she said, in a voice that indicated that she was about to cry, "Let me go, Logan."

"Jesus, Storm," he grunted in recognition and freed her. She scurried away to the other side of the bed, still looking into his eyes but staying far away from the reach of his arms.

"I'm sorry," Logan said, casting his eyes down.

"It's all right," Ororo said as reassuringly as she could, "You had a nightmare; you were rolling all over the bed. I thought you were having a seizure at first."

"Close enough," he replied, rubbing his sore neck, "It feels like I had one."

"I know the feeling," she said, scooting closer to him and holding out her hand. He took it gratefully and turned it over, running his index finger over the lines of her hands. Ororo's heart sank when she realized that he was still shaking. Her other hand came down upon his and he looked into her eyes. Pain shone through them like a beacon, matching his own.

"What was your dream about?" he asked, "Everyone knows about mine; but what do you see in your nightmares?" She shivered inadvertently.

"My…my parents…they died when I was…very young," she tripped over her words and a tear traced a salty path down her face, "It was an…explosion or a bombing. I don't remember; I choose not to. It was terrible; I heard everything, but all I could see was smoke, and I was trapped. I…don't dream of it often, but when I do…I can't close my eyes without seeing red for days, and I have to surround myself with noise because I hear their screams echoing through the silence."

"God, Storm, I'm sorry I asked," he whispered, "That's horrible…worse than mine by a long shot."

"No. I can't even imagine the horrors you've seen…" she began.

"But they're only real to me when I'm asleep. You have to deal with yours always," he said. Gently, he pulled her body towards his, wrapping her in the warmth of his arms. She took the protection and comfort that he offered gratefully, nuzzling into his neck, tears tickling his skin as he buried his face in her hair, dealing with his own fear and pain while absorbing hers.

"Thank you, thank you," she repeated, unable to think of anything else to tell him.

"No, I should thank you," he said. Ororo tilted her head to look up at him, confused.

"For what?" she asked.

"For not being angry about waking up and finding me freaking out in your bed," he leant forward and whispered, the tip of his nose touching hers. At once, her heart was thudding just as crazily as his had minutes before, and she moved her lips to speak but no sounds came.

"I…umm…it…" she stammered, unable to find words with every breath that he took falling warmly onto her lips. Without warning, she bridged the gap between them, seizing his lips with her own. He kissed back fiercely, as though he'd been hungering for this moment, and, she knew, he had. All that she was unsure of was for how long.

"I used to dream about this, long ago, when I first met you, when I knew that I couldn't have you," she admitted after they released each other, "I wanted to tease you, to show you what it's like to want something that you can't have. I couldn't do it."

She kissed him again, just a small peck on the lips.

"When?" she asked, "When did this start? When did you know that…?"

"The day the Professor died," he replied, placing one strong hand under her head and then pushing her down onto the pillows, his lips attacking hers, "You held me so tight, I smelled all of your fear, your anger…your pain, and I felt connected to you for the first time. Nothing before that day mattered to me anymore; it was all just…you. I didn't think you'd want me after…Jean, the way I ignored you."

"Oh, I want you," she assured him, letting his hands wander over her body and moaning as he undressed her.