Chapter Five – I Was Lost But Now Am Found

-xox-

After Logan kissed Ororo in Africa he'd easily seen through the ruse and seen it was Mystique but now in India having touched the woman who could so easily morph into any form she chose he didn't know who she was or what to think. He'd had her in his grasp, firm, soft, warm flesh, the blood pulsating in her veins all too real. And it was – she was familiar even welcomed and then he'd felt nothing. He shuddered as he remembered the eerie feel of her skin as it changed into nothingness. The memory triggered yet another memory.

"I wish this day could last forever." The words were a soft warm breath of air tickling the hair on his chest as he and Ororo laid in bed long before she'd ran off and gotten married to another. "I wish we could live forever and always be like this."

"No one lives forever," Logan had replied.

"Even as a ghost I'd want to be with you like this," she'd teased. "I'd haunt you day and night, make you love me . . ."

She'd stopped suddenly, that one word having broken the spell they'd been under after an afternoon of love making. He had cleared his throat and she had tried to laugh but the sound was tiny and forced.

"You'd love my cooking at least that is if a ghost could cook." She tried to be flippant and he'd obliged her.

"You think being a ghost would make you a better cook?" he'd laughed.

"I'd hope so but I suppose if I were a ghost I wouldn't have to eat. But then I suppose if we were ghosts we couldn't make love or touch or feel. We would just be dead."

He had shuddered then partly because of the eeriness of Ororo's sad tone but also from the sudden burst of cool air when the bedding slid from his body when Ororo rolled over and got up. He'd wanted her to spend the night because like her he hadn't wanted the moment to end. If he could've held her every night he would've been a happy man but he seldom spoke of his feelings and he hadn't then. Another shudder had shaken his body when the door closed behind her and it hadn't been because of the cold. She'd left without saying a word.

"Was she a ghost?" he now whispered aloud. The woman he'd seen – could it be that Ororo's thoughts had become reality? Was she now a ghost with inexplicable powers? He had seen stranger things. But after a few minutes of consideration he laughed at the notion. There were no such things as ghost. Mystique was playing tricks on him. That was the only answer he could see because it was the only answer he could live with.

Mystique had sent him on the trail of this woman in hopes of finding some relic or potion that would keep her forever young and though it was Victor's idea and Victor's threats of what he would do to Ororo that set Logan in motion he still believed Mystique had played some part in even that. Ultimately there was no secret to be had and if there was the woman wasn't sharing. All that mattered to Logan was that she wasn't Ororo and she could handle Victor. That should have been enough, to know she was dead and at peace but it wasn't. After all this time he'd started to remember and the memories had given him hope.

If Ororo could live forever and he was able to find her why couldn't they be together? He'd have someone he trusted and loved to spend the rest of his life with. There'd be none of the dread he always felt when dating a woman knowing he would out live her. The hope of an eternal partner was one of the reason's he'd searched so doggedly. And yet after speaking to this woman he now wondered what was the point of thinking such things when Ororo so plainly hadn't wanted him when she was alive? She had never loved him or if she had it had not been enough. Could anyone ever love enough? He thought he had by letting the two women that he'd loved after Mariko go but now he no longer knew. All he did know was that he had more questions than answers and happiness would always be fleeting until he could meet a woman comparable to Ororo who had always accepted all that he was, the good and bad, and if that woman could live forever.

-xox-

A week after Logan's futile trek around the world he was still upset at how easily he'd been suckered into doing Mystique's bidding. The changeling woman haunted his dreams. She wasn't anyone he knew and yet he felt he must know her. Her scent was unlike any he'd ever smelled, new, different, hauntingly familiar. Ghost of Ororo? It was nothing like her scent as he remembered it and he believed he would never forget her unique aroma. It wasn't Jean's or the Phoenix's either. But she had known him, resented him even but for what? What had he done to her? Had she lied, was she really the Phoenix? The Phoenix had power incarnate but why mask her scent and yet reveal her true visage? But it wasn't her true visage of course. She could be anyone, perhaps anything, a changeling – Mystique!

Logan found no rest. Memory after memory swept over him. Staying at the X-Men headquarters didn't help. Ororo's attic was untouched. A maid kept it dusted per his request. It was silly – stupid really but he would go there sometimes and sit and stare out the window, her sanctuary now his. He never felt close to her, never felt her presence. Because she wasn't dead? He had returned to her room after his trip feeling defeated. What was the point of living forever if he was always forced to leave everyone he loved behind?

A knock at the door, bold and firm, drew his thoughts back to the present. He told the person to enter but the words were thick, rough as if he hadn't spoken in days and he hadn't. He cleared his throat and repeated himself his voice loud and clear this time.

A young girl opened the door. She had light brown skin, short curly black hair and eyes that always reminded him of Jubilee though now they were large with surprise as she stared at him.

"What's going on, LeeLee?" he asked, his mood immediately softening for Jubilee's only grandchild.

Unlike the other younger students who quaked a little in their shoes when face to face with the legendary Wolverine Lee spoke right up, smiling at her godfather, "There's a woman here to see you, Wolvie – it's Storm!"

"Storm?"

"I know! Isn't that the weirdest? I mean I thought she was supposed to be dead."

"Storm's here?"

"I swear, Wolvie! It's her an' she's as beautiful as her pictures and . . . and, there's something about her, something . . . something you always tried to describe, like she's really a goddess all calm and regal and cool and . . . and beautiful. I've never seen anyone like her before."

"Storm here, huh?" he chuckled imagining just how he'd greet her.

"She wanted me to give you this," Lee said, handing him Ororo's original headdress.

"You didn't let her in did you?"

"Well, I started to but Scotty made her put it in the transporter and he had it checked before bringing it to you."

Logan's face darkened. That meant Scotty was probably lurking outside the door listening to their conversation because he was sneaky like that. Scotty was one of Scott and Emma's many grandsons. He looked very much like Emma, the same coloring, the stark blond hair and he had a huge crush on Lee who was, Logan vehemently insisted, too young for boys. Scotty hanging around irked him all the more because he knew his goddaughter liked Scotty too though she vehemently denied it.

"She told me to tell you she's sorry," Lee said. "Oops, sorry I forgot to tell you that first. She told me to tell you that before anything else."

"I bet she did. So, where is she?"

"Outside at the front entrance waiting for you."

Logan found some satisfaction in that. It was raining. Let her stand out there till she was soaked through.

"Why would she give you that?" Lee asked, nodding at Ororo's signature headdress.

Logan shook his head. He felt as if he didn't know anything anymore. He was getting old, losing his once always reliable senses and now having no answers except perhaps that time was creeping up on him just slowly enough to assure him he was not immortal after all. His fingers ran over the decorative metal in his hands as he looked at it. Memories of how he'd first met Ororo came to mind, how they'd started a new era of X-Men with Kurt, Peter, John, Sean and Shiro though Shiro hadn't stayed with them. He remembered just as clearly the first time he kissed Ororo, not a real kiss but he'd enjoyed it just the same, her soft unresponsive lips beneath his, the feel of her firm, supple body slack in his arms, the way he'd envisioned it from the moment he'd laid eyes on her though he seldom mixed business with pleasure.

"It's really hers," Lee said, "Scotty ran the DNA."

Even though Lee's words made his heart leap and his hands were clammy as he grasped the simple headdress he knew it couldn't really be Ororo waiting downstairs for him. It was more likely Mystique in disguise as she had been in Africa. She'd been wearing the headband then. It simply meant that Ororo was dead and probably killed by Mystique who had freely admitted she'd gone to Africa to do just that.

"What do you want me to tell her, Wolvie?"

"Guess I'll take care of it myself, LeeLee."

Lee beamed brightly before spinning around and running out, back to Scotty. Logan heard Scotty questioning Lee before they clattered noisily down the stairs. He turned the headdress over a few times marveling at the beauty of such a simple thing. How had she died? Brave and fearless he knew and with that arrogant look on her fact too he was sure. How had Mystique bested one of the strongest mutants Logan had ever known? His stomach tumbled when he pressed his hand to the front entry control panel.

"Code name Wolverine, verification confirmed. Access granted," a computerized voice responded. But before he could push the button to open the door the computer spoke again.

"Code name Storm, verification confirmed. Access granted."

The front door slid open revealing Storm as she had always looked. Logan took a step back, his claws freed, ready.

"Ready as always I see," she said. She bent down and picked up the headdress that had fallen from his hand when he'd caught sight of her.

The voice was Storm's just as it had been the last two times he'd seen her but it wasn't her scent and therefore couldn't be Storm. The real Storm would have been old and feeble but her scent wouldn't have changed. This woman's odor was the unfamiliar but oddly familiar scent that had lingered in the cave and over Mystique when she was posing as Ororo and too similar to the scent of the woman who had posed as Jean and then Ororo in India.

"What do you want now?" Logan growled, not sheathing his claws.

"That's quite a greeting after not truly seeing each other for so long though I suppose I deserve your anger."

"If you like I could choke the life outta yer pretty little neck," he snarled.

"That seems a little excessive, my friend."

"You led me on a wild goose chase fer nothin' an' expect me ta welcome ya back home?"

"For that I am sorry but that was not my fault. I didn't ask you to come in search of me that was your doing. I have come to make amends if that makes you feel any better."

"How do you plan on doin' that, darlin'?"

"A sincere apology for starters . . ."

"Well say yer piece then beat it."

"I thought we could visit a while; perhaps resolve some issues we should have resolved long ago."

"You know we got nothin' ta say ta each other. You're a liar, a thief, ya got no honor, got no self respect but hey, fuck it, apology accepted, that good enough? Now you can go back to yer cave."

She smiled at him but it was not Mystique's sly familiar smile.

"I never knew you to be a bitter man," she said, "and I am sorry for that, Logan."

"Whatever, just get out and don't come back."

He expected a snide comment, an argument but she gave him nothing. A mixture of emotions flashed briefly over her face, too fast for him to be sure – confusion, sorrow?

"Are you deaf?" Logan said, suppressing the urge to let his fingers circle her neck and choke the life out of her.

Ignoring him she simply turned and walked away. His fingers curled into fists. One hard wrench and her neck would be broken; she would be dead and the world a better place. And yet everything that had happened because of her, all he'd learned on his journey, prevented him from acting. He would go after her and kill her. He would not kill anyone in anger now. In his lifetime there had been too much death, too much sorrow, too many regrets. He would let her live because despite her tricks he had learned something valuable, that life was a blessing and too sacred to take lightly no matter how much longer he had left, something Mystique had not learned and probably never would.

All the emotions he'd long given up on had been brought to the fore because of her. He ached to recapture love long lost, the thought of an immortal lover beside him through all time intoxicating. He hated Mystique for that but he was thankful too. Ever since he'd begun to remember he'd seen that he hadn't been able to pull himself free from the muck of the past. The woman in India was right, his memories dragged him down like an iron ball and chain and he felt as if he were shackled to them, unable to move forward unless he could cut them loss. All his mistakes, all the things he wished he'd done differently he needed to make peace with. Over a hundred year's of stupid decisions, missed chances, heartache and loss had to be accepted finally.

If he had only known this sooner he would have saved so many people from death, he would have been less careless with taking lives, held life more sacred and he would have held love sacred too. He would have told Jean how he'd felt even though there wasn't a chance in hell that she would've returned those feelings. He would've told Ororo too, tried to stop her wedding. And he would have left Mariko long before she could be put in danger by him. He would have fought harder, stronger and with his heart instead of with his instincts. He would have loved with every ounce of strength within him. And he would never have let that woman in India go without answers. And now he would not let Mystique go. It was a stupid thing to do and he knew it but his heart told him to go after her and so he ran.

"Wait a minute," he said when he caught up to her.

"Why should I wait? For what? Do you want to yell at me some more? Do you hate me that much?"

"Look . . ."

"No, you look, Wolverine. I came to apologize; I came because you made me see I was wrong to be angry with you all this time. All this time I thought you hadn't changed but it was me who hadn't. I thought since I was able to admit I was wrong and I was finally able to let my anger go that perhaps there was a chance for us.

"I played a horrible trick on you in India, something the old Ororo would never have done but I have changed in ways you cannot understand since I left the X-Men and the change hasn't always been good. But I see now that you didn't recognize me then nor now because you never really knew me and I was a fool to hope there was anything left between us to salvage."

"Ro? Ororo? It can't be – yer smell . . . it ain't right!"

"Because I'm different, Logan! I've honed my skills in the magic arts. I have become an elemental and a sorceress. You look surprised but surely you must remember it was Belasco who first showed me what I could become. And with sorcery I can become anyone I like, Jean, Mystique," she said as she easily shaped shifted from one woman to the other.

"And once where I could order the wind with a command, as an elemental I can vanish like the wind for I am the wind. That, Logan is the only secret I have. It is mutation and with it comes long life. It is my heritage, a sad heritage indeed to live on and always remember what one could never completely have because they were never first but only second best."

"What? Ororo . . ." But as he reached for her she vanished just like the wind, just like in India.