"I'm sorry, Ororo," Hank apologized for what seemed like the hundredth time, lightly rubbing the back of the woman who lay face-down before him, weeping into her pillow. Finally, after an hour of uninterrupted sobs and sniffles, she was able to form words.

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault. I chose to do what I did, Hank, it's not as though you were controlling me. All of this, it's my fault."

"I should never have touched you, never should have said the things that I did," he argued, shaking his head. Ororo turned to him with a puzzled expression on her reddened, tear-stained face.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You love him, Ororo. Anyone can see that. I could see it, and it killed me inside. Still, I had no right to barge in and try to steal you away. I didn't mean to do it…I never intended to come here and pour my heart out to you. It was a situational thing; I was angry and desperate, and you were finally able to talk about what happened between us, how sorry you were to have let me go. All I've ever wanted was you, Ororo. I saw the opportunity to have what I wanted, and I jumped on it like a wild animal. I forced you into a situation that caused you to betray the man you love…the one that you love more than you love me," he explained.

"Don't say that!" she cried, "I love you, Hank. That's all I've ever known for so many years, that I really and truly did love you. I…I gave up on you, gave up the dream that, one day, you would come back for me, when I began to see Logan, and, along the way, I fell in love with him, as well. But it never made me want you any less. You both have my heart, and it's tearing me up."

"But who do you want, Ororo?" Hank asked, moving closer to her on the bed, "If Logan came barging through that door right now and forced you to choose, which one of us would it be?"

Her lower lip began to tremble. "I don't know. I have no idea who I would choose. I love you both, but for different reasons. For me, right now, the choice would be impossible to make."

An awkward silence, interrupted only by the bedsprings creaking as Hank stood up and walked to the window, passed between them for what seemed like an eternity, before Ororo got up the nerve to speak again.

"The thing is, Hank, Logan may never come through that door."

"Is that what you really think?" he inquired, voice flat and filled with melancholy. With a shrug, she stood up as well and joined him as he gazed out at the reflection of the moon on the snow.

"There's no way to tell," she said, "I've never seen him angrier than he was tonight. Even under the most ordinary of circumstances, when Logan leaves, it's always for a few months, at least. Who's to say that he won't come back? But then, who's to say that he will?"

She slipped an arm around him, nuzzling into his chest and breathing in his scent. Before Hank even had time to think, her free hand was moving up to the first button of his white, collared shirt, and unclasping it before stroking the skin beneath.

"What are you doing, Ororo?" he asked, hoping that she wouldn't continue this, but making no motion to stop or even slow her progress on his shirt.

"What I should have done years ago," she pulled his shirt away from his chest and buried her face there once again; "I've missed you so desperately."

"Are you sure?" for his part, Hank was terrified that if he so much as touched her or even made the slightest acknowledgement to himself that his moment was real, she would disappear, "Don't tease me, Ororo, I couldn't stand it if you lead me on just to quit at the last minute."

"I'm not teasing. Please, Hank, I want this right now, and I've needed it for years."

With that, he let out the breath that he'd been holding and bent down to place a kiss upon her lips, to finish what they had started in the garden.

xXx

One month and a half later…

Ororo's eyes followed Hank as he strode about the room, carrying the last of his suits to the bed and folding it into his suitcase. She sighed and wondered once again whether or not she should tell him. The words rose in her throat, but died on the tip of her tongue. He saw her bite her lower lip, and came to stand before her, taking one of her hands in both of his.

"You know that I have to go back to Washington," he said softly.

"I know," she whispered, "I just…I…Hank, I'm…I'm going to miss you." A blush rose in her cheeks, and she felt as though she could slap herself for being such a sissy. But she couldn't say anything about it, not now. He would only want to stay, and he couldn't. He was leaving for an international summit in France in only two weeks, and before he could go there, he had to return to Washington. Already, he'd spent more time than he'd counted on in New York, working from the mansion, but he couldn't do that any longer.

Hank would be back, she knew. As long as she was here, he would continue to return. She would tell him soon, perhaps after he got back from France. He'd be furious at her for keeping it from him for so long, but Ororo refused to do anything that would cause him to jeopardize his career, and he would understand.

"I guess I'm all packed," Hank sighed, looking over at his suitcases.

"I'll…ring someone up to help you carry everything," said Ororo, reaching for the phone.

An uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them, interrupted only by the knock on the door from Hank's driver, ready to take his things and then take him back to Washington.

"Come down to the car with me," he requested, pulling her up from the chair where she sat, "I can't say goodbye now…not until I know that I have no other choice."

She leaned into the arm that he wrapped around her waist in silent agreement, lost in her own thoughts as the two walked through the halls, down the stairs, and out to the car. When they reached it, she couldn't bring herself to let him go. Instead, the two leaned against the door of the limousine holding each other while Hank's driver tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

Suddenly, Ororo felt Hank stiffen against her, and all of the hair on his body began to rise, like a startled cat. Instinctively, he growled, and pulled her closer to him.

"What is it, Hank?" she whispered in fear.

"Ororo, I'm taking you back inside," he said softly, looking around with shifty eyes, "Something's not right; I can sense it."

Before she could reply, both heard a shot ring out through the air.

"Get down!" he yelled, pushing her to the ground and shielding her with his body as more shots were fired. Students and teachers, having heard the firing of the gun, poured from the mansion. Beneath Hank, Ororo was panicking, tears running down her face and sobs escaping her throat. His entire body shook as he felt something pierce the flesh of his back, and he let out a pained, animalistic whine as more bullets embedded themselves in his back.

"Hank! Hank!" she yelled as his screams of agony echoed around her. Visions came to her, all of the things from her past began to return in one waking nightmare, and Ororo was no longer outside of the Xavier mansion. The heat of northern Africa was harsh on her skin as the very walls around her collapsed and the dying shrieks of her parents invaded her ears. Someone was pulling on her, carrying her away and whispering words of comfort into her ear; she felt something thick and warm running down her chest, and all that she would do was scream Hank's name in terror.