There's a twinkle in her eyes when she smiles; when her throaty laugh roars, unbridled from between her lips. Something about her sets her apart from everyone else, and he catches himself smiling too, just watching her; captivated and jovial in her presence.
She hasn't let go of his hand since she and Jean returned from the restroom and he catches her brushing against him and he's almost positive that she only wants an excuse to touch him, in the same way that he has brushed against her, giving into his cravings.
He squeezes her hand, lightly.
She rubs her thumb against his, turning to him, smiling and squinting her eyes.
Ororo, Xavier's voice is an alien thought shouting in her head. Gather a team and meet me in the War Room for briefing.
"I must go," she says abruptly, touching Logan lightly on his shoulder so that she can make her way out of the round booth.
"Where ya goin'?" he asks, standing from his seat, wondering why she's moving so quickly.
"Xavier needs me," she says, looking to him and almost dismissively moving her attention to Jean. "I need you to contact my team and David tell them to meet me us in the War Room."
"I'm coming," Logan interjects, bending to pick up his coat that fell to the floor when Ororo moved from her seat.
"No," Ororo says, almost too quickly, standing in front of him and resting the palms of her hands against his shoulders.
"Why not?"
"We will talk about this later," she replies, turning and walking briskly for the door.
"To hell with that," Logan says loudly, "I'm coming!"
She turns and looks at him angrily.
"I have precious little time and I will not entertain your objections," she says, her eyes are narrowed and angry. "We. Will. Discuss. This. Later."
"Rogue, Remy, I'll need the two of you as well."
"Them the breaks homme," Remy says, facing Logan while walking backward. "I'll give you the play by play if Stormy don't see you first."
Logan is unsure of what is restraining him; he'd like to take that Cajuns head right off but somehow he finds himself resisting the overpowering impulse.
He returns to his seat, glowering.
"Why do you think that Jean is on Ororo's team, Logan?" Scott asks after they have gone.
"Why not ask me if I care, Bub?"
"How much creditability as a leader do you think she would have with you on her team?"
"You're the leaders One Eye, I ain't much interested in politics."
He waits for her in her loft, they have been gone a long time and he's become fidgety; more angry at the unknown than he is with her. His anger soon relaxes into a subtle fear: His hands clutch the front of the lazy boy's armrests and he broods, becoming angry with her once more.
He stands abruptly and looks out the window, wishing there were something that he could do about his demeanor.
"What kind of lapdog has this broad turned me into?"
Nonetheless, the heaviness in his chest is gone when he hears her hand rest on the doorknob. She opens the door and he stays at his post by the window, pretending to stare at the basketball court below.
"Logan," she says, sounding tired. "Your behavior this afternoon. I cannot have our relationship sully my ability to make sound leadership decisions and I will not have you contesting my authority."
He lets out a low, grumble and she walks lazily to her private bathroom where he can hear her turn on the water. Suddenly, he remembers himself; no one is his boss, not 'Ro, not One Eye, no one and he won't have that change today.
"Sorry skirt but that ain't good enough," hey yells slamming the already cracked door wide open.
He pauses, stalled by the scene that he witnesses in her reflection in the large mirror. There are superficial cuts on her face and a bleeding wound across her midsection, her right arm hangs lifeless at her side.
She offers a halfhearted smile, ignoring his outburst.
"I can't pop it back in," she smiles again, lowering her eyes to her shoulder.
He walks over to her slowly, touching her shoulder lightly and waiting for her eyes to close and when they do he forces it back into the socket. She only betrays herself with clinched teeth and an exaggerated squinting of her eyes.
Here in this bathroom, while wishing to touch her, the realization hits him: she will die in the field; one day he'll wait for her in that chair and she won't ever return. Someone, maybe Jean or Betsy will come to the door and deliver the news; God help the one that delivers the news.
It's a sad staggering wave that hits him and she notices it in the gentle way that he speaks to her; asking if she need go to the infirmary.
"Cecilia and Hank are busy enough, I've survived worse without attention, Logan."
"Who else has been hurt?"
"Remy, I believe his skull has been fractured, something; he was delirious and then he lost consciousness," she says, sighing. "Betsy is burnt badly; I am ashamed to say that I am unsure of what Rachel's wounds are but her psychic shields are gone, she can 'hear' everything."
"They'll be fine, 'Ro."
"I should attend to them," she says in a tired low tone, stepping to the side to exit the bathroom.
"You can't do nothing for them, Darlin'," he says, stepping to stand in front of her.
He's relieved when she listens to him, knowing her stubbornness; if her mind were made up there would be nothing he could say to dissuade her.
They lay awkwardly in her bed, her shoulder is too sore for their usual embrace; he holds a handful of her hand in his fist, clinching it so tightly that the soft strands cut his calloused hands. He has no worry that she'll wake with wonder of the ruby stains in her silver hair, she is too broken to believe that it belongs to someone other than herself.
He just got her, he reasons, how will he survive without her after all of these years wanting to have her and not having her was like being held under water and now, after being let up for air he feels it coming, a dark shadow over him and his 'Ro and he's afraid that after he loses her that he'll never see her again. There's no place for him in heaven or hell, he'sknowsthat he has been murdered a hundred men's deaths but it seems that there's no reprieve for him.
He moves down to embrace her, she sighs a little, painfully, but pulls his arm around her waist, he smells her scruffy hair, pressing his lips to her neck.
