Three
After lunch, six hours later, the X-Men were crossing the skies inside the Blackbird, flying to one of the states that made boundary with Canada: Vermont. Scott and Storm were on the pilot commands seeing as they both knew the way to the Silver Park, where, supposedly, the 'Olympians' lived. Actually, everyone seemed to know the way – except him, of course. Logan had been in the worst mood ever since they boarded on the jet. Every X-Man was so excited and reliving all the good moments and past adventures they had when the two teams were together. He simply did not feel comfortable while they chit-chatted about things he never witnessed but, deep inside, wished he had.
Not all of them shared the same memories about the same people; however there was someone common to everybody: Aislinn. Who was this woman that seemed to have everyone wrapped around her finger? Could she be as amazing and kind-hearted as they described her so tenderly? It sounded so unreal for him to believe, as he sat there.
"We're here" Storm stated, landing the Blackbird in a cluster of incredibly tall trees.
They left the jet. Jean and Scott holding hands, content and anxious by the prospective of seeing their dear friends once more. Gambit and Rogue were also very vibrant, talking animatedly. Storm was the only one who appeared more or less calm, walking beside Logan.
"Not excited, 'Ro?" He joked.
Storm chuckled, but it sounded a bit strained. "God, you have no idea..."
He raised a thick eyebrow, but otherwise kept silent. If the girl wanted to tell him she would eventually come around.
An enormous Edwardian mansion came into their eyesight and, boy, was it magnificent. The pristine glass windows, the dark roofs, the bushes, trees and flowers around the house... Logan could distinguish the Silver Lake behind the mansion, a little further away. By the entry were two black gates and hanging on them was a signboard, engraved with a big 'O' adorned by thin leaves and a dove which said underneath "Olympians Manor: Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy".
Before the confused expression in Logan's face, Storm explained.
"It's their motto. Aislinn believed we never stopped loving not even when we died and that was why the sky had stars, to remind us every day that they were there to give us hope and strength to carry on"
"Yeah, right. I've seen enough t' know stars are nothin' but big flamin' balls o' gas and plasma" Scoffed Logan, impatiently pushing the gates open and walking through the property without any sort of hesitation.
Logan clearly had been hoping to find someone at the door that might've sensed them or heard the jet landing, because he stopped dead in his tracks before the strange quietness. There were only the nature sounds – a few rustling, the wind blowing… - , but he could smell someone home. In fact, he could smell the sweetest, most intoxicating scent he ever smelled; it was musky, yet not strong, simple, though exotic. He didn't know what it was, but, boy, if it smelled good.
"You sure we're in the right place?" He directed his questions towards the others behind him.
Suddenly, they heard a frustrated screech from behind the house, followed by a voice warm as whiskey, filled with a British accent. "My Gardenias! Ugh, you bloody dog! I knew I should've bought that German Shepherd instead of you, useless piece of fur!" Then there was an angry bark and a low growl. "Oh, what do you know?"
Scott and Jean exchanged a funny look. "Oh yes, it's definitely the right place. Come on!"
As the X-Men advanced to the back of the mansion in a hurried pace, Logan took his time admiring the beauty of the place. The pretty pink Impatiens matched perfectly the cherry blossom trees, which were curiously in flower despite already Summer. At the top of the window frames of the house rested beautiful Wisterias – both violet and white – that hung delicately down. Small Magnolia, Dewberry and Dogwood trees were scattered across the slightly grown green grass spiked by wildflowers such as Forget-Me-Not's, Baby Snapdragon's and Crimson Clover's, as well as some bushes like Potentilla, Lilacs, Bluebeards, Crimson Pigmies and Gold Pillars.
On the only Oak tree, a few feet away from the lake, in a spot free of important flowers, was built a cute wooden house. Well, Logan wouldn't call it a house exactly, perhaps a fort, good enough for a child to go inside by the rope-stairs and play. It had a small inclined roof, probably to prevent the rain, and he could see lots of drawings pinned to the walls and toys piled on the floor. Close by was also a swing made of, what looked like, roots coming from inside the earth itself, and beside it, resting upon the ground was a football and a volleyball.
It pained his heart a little, because the whole place overflowed with the feeling of home, the feeling of pure and unconditional love. And Logan craved so very badly for that same feeling he almost felt ashamed to admit it, even to himself.
"Chéri!"
Gambit's call awakened him from the wandering thoughts. Logan directed his gaze towards the direction his companions stood waving like mad people, only to be completely taken aback. Now he understood what the Professor meant by 'She truly was a vision'; the woman, bent down to her knees, in the middle of the dirt, in front of a big bed of white exotic flowers – which he supposed were Gardenias – , was unbelievably beautiful.
She glanced up at the mention of her name; this way Logan could have a better look at her. Her skin was smoothly flawless, without moles or scars, with a faint golden tan that only accentuated the rosiness of her high cheekbones. The nose was small and perked a little at the tip and her lips were red and full, as if begging for passionate kisses to be placed upon them. However, were her eyes that entranced him the most. You would expect simple brown eyes could only be that: simple, yet they were so far from that; their shape was almond, making them sweet and kind, and they had the absolute perfect mix of hazel and red, almost like melted milky chocolate, framed by long thick ginger lashes. The hair also flattered her very much, being slightly messy from her hand constantly digging into it, and falling in fiery bold ringlets to her slim shoulders covered by a cream colored wool cardigan. Underneath the cardigan she wore a worn green peasant dress that stopped only at her knees, showing them she was actually barefoot.
Logan watched, still dumbfounded, as Aislinn dropped the spade and pruning shear she was holding and threw herself into the open arms of Gambit. The Cajun spun her around, content for finally being able to hear the heart-warming laughter of the dear friend he missed so much.
"Oh Remy, I missed you so badly! I thought I would never hear that bloody accent of yours again!" Aislinn exclaimed, tears of joy rolling down her face.
"You didn' t'ink Gambit would leave you alone dat easy, eh chéri?" He joked, settling her down and kissing tenderly her forehead.
Aislinn brushed the tears off, stared into Gambit's red and black eyes for a moment and then stepped aside to fix her gaze in her old friends. They were all there: Jean, still with her flowing red hair, darker than hers; Scott hiding his beautiful hazel eyes behind the ruby glasses; the tough and kind Rogue, who had those white streaks in her wavy hair ever since Aislinn remembered; Storm, her sweet, wise Storm; and, of course, the handsome Gambit, with the charming atmosphere around him. The other man didn't go unnoticed to her, however – no, she was very much aware of him. His intense blue eyes seemed to bore into her soul, evaluating or, perhaps, admiring her. He was gorgeous in a wild feral way, and his sideburns only accentuated it.
"What are you guys doing here? Don't take me wrong, I'm really happy to see you, but it is completely unexpected" Aislinn asked her friends.
"We know sugah, Jeanie here wanted ta come and get ya back with just the boys but 'Ro and Ah wouldn't let her" Rogue explained, smiling, in her thick southern accent.
She shoke her head, curls bouncing with the movement. "I told you I won't be coming back, Jean"
"Yes, you will" Jean pressed determined, raising her chin in a challenge for the other to defy her.
"We'll talk about it later, okay? Come on inside, we have to wait for the guys to decide whatever there is to decide, if there is anything to decide" Sighed Aislinn, already knowing that Jean wouldn't rest until she got it her way.
They all followed Aislinn to the front porch, where they found, at the door steps, a white dog blocking them the passage. The Irish terrier growled at the intruders, except for maybe Logan, since he had so much of animal in him that the animals recognized him already.
Aislinn scowled at the dog and pointed a threatening finger. "Get out of my way, Marauder, or I swear I'll shave your fur until there's nothing left but the under skin"
Marauder lowered his head in respect before the heated woman, for he had understood every word said, thanks to Aislinn's power to talk to animals. Smirking slightly, Logan kneeled close to the dog and patted his head soothingly.
"Don't ya think ya're a bit harsh on the fur-ball?" He asked her, scratching the animal's ears.
"Geez, you think? It wasn't your flowers he stepped on, were they?" She threw him a disapproving look for supporting the dog's side. "Who are you anyway?"
"Oh that's right: I forgot Linn never met you. This is…"
"Wolverine" Logan cut Jean's introduction, standing up and stretching a big rough hand, which she took. Her hand was so delicate, he noticed; the fingers might've been long, yet were thin, with rectangular and manicured nails. And he couldn't help to also notice that their hands fit perfectly in each others.
Her red lips formed a small smile. "Wolverine, huh? Like the little carcajou up in Canada?" Logan glared at her with those amazing eyes, mentioning to retrieve his hand. She gripped it stronger and chuckled. "Just kidding. I'm Gaia, or Aislinn, whichever you prefer, I go by the two"
"How 'bout I call ya Linn? Everybody else seems t' be doin' it" He said in a teasing tone. The other X-Men exchanged the same look, though it went unnoticed by the pair.
"Whatever suits you, mate"
Aislinn brought them inside the manor and, once more, Logan was overwhelmed. It's not that the hallway was large or portentous – because it wasn't – instead it was cosy and homey. White wooden stairs leading to the upper level, where most likely were the rooms, rested to the left side of the hall, and under the stairs were two baby-blue fauteuils, with books upon them. Several paintings of the Silver Lake in cold colours, contrasting shades, from different angles and perspectives, without frames, hung in the pale blue walls.
The living room was no less homey. Walls painted in faint shades of orange, covered in paintings of places in Greece, two white couches and a few armchairs scattered around the room, a big television and a brown carpet. In the wooden tables were ancient ceramic amphorae, telling heroic tales by the Greek drawings, and vases with white lilies, as well nautilus and conch shells. Again there were lots of books piled on the floor, gathered in the corners of the room, and one or two toys here and there.
Jean and Scott sat on one couch, their fingers intertwined as he caressed hers softly. Storm and Rogue were calmly sitting on the armchairs close to the fireplace. Gambit stayed for the couch, where Aislinn joined him, leaning to his shoulder, so he entertained himself by playing with her ringlets. Logan remained standing, pacing through the living room and observing everything in detail. What he observed the most, though, were the pictures; the big majority were Aislinn's, either she was by the cherry blossom trees in a pink dress and white straw-hat or in the middle of the snow with big ear-muffs. However, she appeared in some surrounded by a group of people – Logan presumed they were the so talked Olympians – , and embracing an adorable kid or, in others, simply gazing at a tall man with dark golden hair and electric blue eyes.
This place really feels like a home..., he thought bitterly.