Looong chapter this time. I just couldn't figure a way to break it up that would be good. So then I decided to just leave it this way to thank you readers for your patience while I wracked my brains figuring out how things would go. lol
"Storm..?!" Scott's hesitant yet desperate use of her name made Ororo shake her head rapidly in a negative. There was no way she could summon up enough wind to hold back that much water, or drop the temperature rapidly enough to subdue it by freezing, either. Behind them Kitty gave a soft squeak of fear as they just stared helplessly at the flooding threat. Jean felt that helplessness rise up in her throat, choking her. She cast a quick look back to where their unconscious teammate rested. After what they'd been through, after what Logan had been through, this couldn't be the end. She wouldn't allow it! If she'd thought about it, it probably would never have occurred to even try such a test of her abilities. But the redhead was so filled with emotions battling inside of her that thought didn't enter the process at all. Emotional chaos buffeted her mind; there was anger at the ones who had put them in this position, fear for the team's safety, and raw despair at the apparent futility of their mission. Her gaze locked onto the water with intense purpose, a sense of warmth spreading through her body, and it felt as if flames were flickering behind her eyes so they were even warmer than the rest of her. Slowly her hand rose, slim fingers stretching out and reaching to the threatening mass of liquid bearing down on them, with a strange feeling of everything moving in slow motion. Or maybe it was just that her perception had changed, and she was moving too fast. Nobody had noticed her yet, they were staring, shocked, as the flooding rush of water seemed to slow, almost imperceptibly at first, and then it just… hovered there, stuck in mid-rush. White foam barely crested over the top as the water behind it struggled to go somewhere.
"Oh my God," Kitty breathed, and Scott and Ororo glanced back at the younger mutant, seeing her gaze fixed beside her on the redheaded doctor. Jean was purely focused, body locked in a pose of authority with one hand outstretched, and warmth emanating from her slim form. Her normally soft eyes were bright and fiery, literally, with a vivid orange that resembled flames bleeding into the natural color of her irises. Scott took a moment to just be completely dumbfounded before he leapt into action, taking the pilot's seat and flicking switches like mad. Wherever this reserve of power came from, he was going to take advantage of it while the threatening flood was actually listening. The Blackbird powered up and began to lift off the ground, and Ororo seemed to come to herself suddenly, getting into the copilot's seat to help keep an expert eye on the dials and gauges. The twitching wall of water rose before them until they finally rose above it, and it was all Scott could do to remain focused on the task of flying and not stare at Jean. Kitty had no such distraction, staring raptly as Jean's temples beaded lightly with sweat and she began to tremble just a bit. Finally, with the water a good ten feet below them, the redhead gave a gasp and released her grasp on the heated surge of strength that had welled up in her, allowing the water to drop instantly into a crashing, destructive flood. Kitty jumped forward as Jean staggered sideways, helping her into a seat where she ended up laying more than sitting, limp and completely worn. Scott and Ororo shared a prolonged meeting of eyes in the front, the mutual silent look an exchange of 'What the hell was that?!'
x_X_x
A soft, steady beeping was her first indicator of being awake, followed by the impression of light and the familiar little noises of the med bay at the mansion. Jean slowly opened her eyes, only then realizing someone was holding her hand. The familiar, large fingers made her smile, and she looked up to see Scott sitting next to her, leaning forward urgently as he noticed her return to consciousness. His lips pressed to hers in a brief but strong kiss before their foreheads touched.
"Are you all right?" Any other questions took second place to the all-important need to know she was okay, his voice filled with worry. After all, Jean had shown an incredible display of power, far more than she was usually capable of. There was no telling what it could have done to her. She nodded her head, the fingers of her free hand moving upward to gently stroke his cheekbone.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Scott," she assured him. Her own strength had definitely been a shock, but when faced with a life or death decision, she'd had to surprise even herself. Gazing up at Scott, she felt relaxed again, knowing they were safely home. Wait… or were they? Logan! The fear swirled through her mind again. "Logan… how is he?" she asked urgently, raising herself in the bed. His arm came behind her, supporting just until she was upright.
"He's going to be fine. Physically, at least." Supple lips twisted with worry. "You've only been asleep a couple of hours, and in that time we started him on a saline drip to help replace fluids until he can wake up. Some of the wounds have started closing, although the healing process is still slow." He clutched at her hand gently, unable to fully express how glad he was that she appeared in good health. "Do you think you're up to treating a patient?" Scott teased. Jean laughed, relieved that life seemed to finally be looking up again.
x_X_x
Humming. Something soft and sweet, that's what he heard, a woman's voice giving outlet to happiness and optimism. Logan was cocooned in darkness, surrounded by a peace and stillness so profound that he resisted leaving. But that gentle sound of song was pulling at him to return to wakefulness. He didn't want to; didn't want to return to the grim reality of what he remembered doing. He had recollections, growing clearer as his body finished healing, of hacking viciously at faceless forms, and blood, and pain. There had been no self-defense there, not really. Just mindless anger and death. Quicker than what they had been doing to him, perhaps, but certainly just as brutal. It wasn't like when he'd been tortured briefly by those AAM goons, no, it had been a regression to the most primitive of mindsets, one that refused at all costs to be subject to the sadistic whims of someone else again. The following bloodbath must have shocked his friends. He had thought, or hoped, that he'd gotten past that part of himself. Logan felt himself stiffen at the reminder that he was just as much of an animal as Stryker had told him. His lower lip trembled just a bit as a tear escaped from a closed eyelid and soaked into his hairline at the temple. The humming stopped suddenly, the loss of it almost a physical thing to someone who had heard nothing but taunts, insults, or his own screams for weeks.
"Logan, what's wrong?" It was Storm's voice, her presence only then felt right by his side. How did she know…? Shit. Had she been watching? Had she seen the tough Wolverine sniveling like an upset child? He didn't want to be vulnerable again, to know he was being scrutinized by watchful eyes. Logan's shaggy head turned away from her voice, a breath catching in his chest. Storm's heart ached as he refused to open his eyes and look at her. She'd noticed him coming back to wakefulness at that point of her scheduled vigil, seeing a slight difference in his breathing and an unexpected tensing of the muscles. What had crossed his mind upon waking? They'd all been taking turns sitting by his side as he healed. The quiet had become a bit much and she'd hummed to fill it, tempted to run her fingers through the hair and muttonchops badly in need of grooming, but then a trickle of moisture had moved across his skin, startling her. "It's okay, Logan, you're safe. We're back at the school." Ororo hurried to reassure him, resting a hand on his forearm and feeling the soft hair there under her fingertips. Had he thought he'd awoken back in a lab? Perhaps he'd been dreaming just before waking, with the memories and terrors still caught in his thoughts. It wouldn't surprise her, with all he'd been through. His face tilted slightly toward her then, hazel eyes opening blearily, squinting as his pupils shrank against the unaccustomed light.
"O'ro…?" He tried to say her name, he really did, but could only croak out a distorted attempt before his dry throat protested, starting him coughing. She hastened to grab a cup from the stand near his bed and handed it to him when the annoying fit had stopped.
"Here, Logan, take a piece of ice in your mouth and let it melt. You've been out for two days. Your fluids are doing better, but you'll have to actually drink something to hydrate your throat and vocal chords. Something besides beer, that is," she added teasingly as he sucked out a frozen cube from the plastic cup. Hazel eyes rolled at that, although he couldn't deny the need for actual nourishing fluids. He felt better, especially with the ice releasing cooling liquid down his esophagus, but even that little bit of moisture hadn't quite eased his mouth. Storm watched him close his eyes blissfully as he sucked on the ice, smiling just a bit to herself. His body had pretty much recovered, losing the shocking gauntness and rounding out the muscled form properly, but mentally he was still troubled. She didn't know how she knew that, she just did. Something about his refusal to look at her again as he grabbed another piece of ice, and how uncomfortable he seemed, led her to the conclusion. And he had every right to be, hadn't he? He'd been hurt, repeatedly, and for quite some time, by people who saw him as nothing, something below human status. To them he'd been merely property, a pawn to use and abuse as they saw fit in some pursuit of so-called knowledge and military might. Bah. Storm huffed through her nose at the train of thought, making Logan look her way without thinking. His throat was feeling much better, so he chanced some words, concerned that something was wrong with her.
"You okay, Storm…?" He'd consumed half the cup of ice by then, she realized, so lost in her thoughts she'd forgotten to monitor the intake. Gentle fingers relieved him of the ice and set it back on the stand.
"Don't want to get too much in your stomach just yet. Doctor's orders," she said gently. "And I'm fine, Logan, thank you. Just worried about you. How are you?" The direct question made him uncomfortable again, eyes darting away from her gaze as he shrugged and rested against the pillow once more. He felt better, but damn, he still felt tired. His body wanted more sleep to recover. Logan gave a brief yawn, shaking his head.
"Nothing to worry about 'Ro. I'm always good, you know that." Dark eyes watched him doubtfully. Such a man, sometimes. Although in all fairness, his reluctance to admit worry about injuries was perhaps more than just machismo. Was he so used to healing that he didn't really give any importance to his body's state of health? He used the phrase 'It'll heal' quite often, with a shrug and a casual attitude. Just because he could heal didn't make it all right that he had to go through it so often. Her mouth turned down in a frown.
"I'm still worried about you. You went through a lot, and then you pushed yourself even harder when you went after those soldiers to…" She stopped as he visibly flinched, shoulders adopting a hunched posture.
"I didn't go after those guys for some noble reason, Storm." Logan's voice was pitched low, tone angry and yet guilty at the same time. "I went after 'em because they had hurt me, plain and simple. Didn't even know what I was doing most of the time. I… I lost it." His voice became quieter, whispering the last words guiltily, his expression filled with self-reproach and shame. Storm was completely caught off guard.
"But if it hadn't been for you, I don't know if we could have made it out. We were very outnumbered with limited options. Your action caught them off guard and gave us the opportunity to…"
"Don't sugarcoat it, 'Ro," he snapped slightly, feeling bad about losing his temper with her, but also very touchy about the subject, in turns both ashamed and defensive. "I was brutal and bloodthirsty, without mercy. The only thought I can remember was just to hurt the bastards. I was an…" He seemed to think better of speaking further, huddling in on himself. Storm stared at Logan, feeling angry, but not with him.
"An animal, is that what you were going to say?" she asked softly, barely controlling the anger that wanted to make her voice harsh and accusing, feelings that were in no way directed at the feral. He flinched again, swallowing hard, but still refusing to meet her gaze. Oh, if only one could resurrect evil people so you could kill them again… Goddess give her the words. "Logan, please listen to me, and believe what I say, all right?" His hazel eyes darted over to her, looking much like an abused puppy in that moment; he was a creature desiring comfort and love but having trouble believing it was possible, or that he deserved it. With his attention on her, she spoke again, gentle eyes holding his skittish gaze. "Logan, you have the resources and abilities to react differently than other people, or even mutants, could. You were pushed, pushed beyond all realm of decency and compassion, to the point that your body ended up shutting down just to protect itself. That's what you did with the soldiers. You reacted instinctively to protect yourself and us. This is a part of you, a part that has helped you survive horrible experiences, to overcome them, and I don't want you to feel ashamed of that. We love you for who you are, Logan. Okay?" She raised one hand and stroked his whiskered cheek before pressing a quick kiss to the skin just above the facial hair, startling him into staring silence. Had she really just…?
"Hey Storm, how is he doing tod…" Jean sailed into the room and stopped short. "Oh Logan, you're awake!" She beamed at him, completely unaware of his shocked state as she moved closer and did a perfunctory examination. "Heartbeat is normal… well, for you," came the teasing analysis. "Skin color is good; overall diagnosis: patient is tired of laying around." Her cheerful tone made him grin a little. After all this time, she'd finally begun to realize how much he detested having medical treatment of any kind. He shook his head some, seeing both women smiling at him, feeling a little happier to be awake. And clean…? His body did smell fresher, now that he thought about it, although he still needed a haircut badly.
"Speaking of laying around, who can I thank for cleaning me up while I was out?" He waggled his eyebrows at Jean, unwilling to direct the playful flirting at Storm, not after that surprise peck on the cheek. He'd worry about that sweet little kiss later and just indulge in some harmless fun. The redhead laughed, eyes sparkling.
"Don't get your hopes up, Logan. You can thank Scott for the sponge bath." Logan made a face, pointedly ignoring her giggling.
"Now I really feel sick…"