Chapter Eleven
Logan had watched Ororo sleeping for hours. He didn't know how long for sure – he had lost count. He was draped across one of her chairs tucked in the corner of the loft watching as the goddess slumbered on. Damn beautiful, she was. He'd never seen her sleep so heavily; she must have been incredibly tired, Logan reckoned. A pang of guilt struck him.
During that time of silence wherein he watched her – the rhythmic rise and fall of her body under the covers – Logan mused. He pondered back to when he'd first came to the mansion, how he had been on a one track mission to learn about his past with the help of Professor Xavier, and then blow the hell out of there immediately. No pass go. He'd been so obsessed by that goal at one time. Before coming to the X-Men, the notion of regaining his memories had consumed his life and every waking thought.
But the geeks had grown on him, dammit – the students too. From there, there had been Jeannie, and even though he could look back on it now and say that it was wrong, he'd set his predatory sights on her right away. Practically from the moment he saw her.
Then there had been the weather goddess. The windrider had swooped right in and claimed a piece of his heart too, one bigger than he realized, big enough to even overshadow Jean once he'd pulled his head out of his ass.
The past had come back to bite him in that ass, and to remind of his whole purpose for staying at the mansion originally. Fate had spoken . . . and this had to be done . . .
"Logan, do not do this."
"I am, Chuck."
"This is not wise."
"I have ta."
"No, you are wrong. We have more information now. That is good news, Logan. With what we learned from Laura and the psy-scans of your mind we can dig deeper if you stay. I know your experience at the F.o.H. headquarters was both painful and jarring, but it also helped us in a way we could never imagine. It activated a bevy of your forgotten memories. You should stay and let us explore them further."
"This ain't yer problem anymore, Chuck."
"Logan—!"
"The only reason I agreed ta stay here was ta find out 'bout my past," Logan argued. "I got comfy 'n fergot about what matters. It's time I go searchin' again."
"Is that what you call it . . . getting 'comfy'?" Charles spat the word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "That's what you have with Ororo, is it? You'd aban—"
"It ain't none of yer business, Charles," Logan hissed.
The Professor had never looked so sad or upset. Disappointment shone in Charles' eyes. He'd hoped against hope that the last several times working with Logan would not lead to this, but it seemed it was.
"Logan," he began calmly. "I urge you . . . please . . . reconsider this," he insisted, stressing every syllable.
Logan paused in his pacing, his rigid back turned away from the Professor.
"I can't."
x x x
The f**king mission.
He could've killed that F.o.H. bastard – and he would've too, if Ororo hadn't come. Gladly so. His knuckles had burn with the need to draw out his claws and make the man into minced meat.
Hell, he had been deluding himself in thinking that this was over and he could go on merrily.
He hadn't even seen it coming. The images had blinded him with white hot ferocity . . . and swiftly. So crystal clear and intensely vivid that it had seemed as if he had been right back there. And with the help of Charles in the days following the misson he finally knew now where "there" was.
"There's an abandoned military compound in the Canadian Rockies. It's called Alkali Lake. You should find answers there."
That's what he had been doing while Ro sat up waiting for him. Charles had probed his mind, day after day, dredging up shit that he'd never seen before their journey to the Friends of Humanity base.
Logan's firm grip tightened on the arm of the chair, and his mouth thinned into a grim frown. Flamin' hell. How could he tell the woman he loved that was going off to chase old ghosts?—Forgotten ghosts.
He'd been figuring on how since he'd slipped into her room as she lay sleeping and was none closer to a proper idea – a proper way. In fact his anxiety grew as he watched her sleeping face. The soft sleep noises she made. His chest felt tight. How in the flamin' hell was he going to do this?
When the goddess slowly began to stir Logan knew his time was up. He had to face her . . . his time was simply up and there was nothing to be done about it.
x x x
Ororo slowly pulled herself up, wiping at her eyes and yawning. She peeled them open, glanced down at her wristwatch and groaned before setting up fully, the covers slipping from her as she sat up against the headboard. Bleary blue eyes slowly glanced around the room until they stopped on a second pair full of intensity and shining with a glare of substantial regret.
"Logan!" she gasped in delight. "I've been waiting for you!" Ororo's face broke into a small smile at seeing him. "I wanted to speak with you."
Logan swallowed with some effort, his words coming out thickly. "I need ta speak with you too, Ro."
As soon as he said it Ororo's smile started to slip. The tone of his voice was low and emotionless; the sound of it fell heavy between them as did the ensuing silence. Immediately, Ororo knew something was wrong, and her stomach began to churn sickeningly. She swallowed deeply past the lump forming in her throat, moistening her lips before she spoke, when her eyes dropped down to the single black duffel at Logan's feet.
Her gaze rose almost hesitantly from his feet, back up his legs and body, to the sight of his eyes sitting beneath his troubled black brows.
It was there she saw his intent. The purpose of this long-awaited visit. Ororo knew what was happening without him even saying an explanatory word.
For a lengthy moment not a sound was heard in the room. But the sky outside blackened instantly, just as one cool, lazy tear slid down Ororo's cheek. Neither of their gazes broke while the two stared between each other.
Ororo was the first to speak.
"No . . . No, no, no, no . . ." she muttered softly. She slowly shook her head from side to side, the soft alto of her voice tinged with the beginnings of heartbreak.
The Canadian sighed. "I got to, Ro."
"No! No, no, no! No, Logan!"
Outside, there was a resounding peel of thunder.
She knew it. She knew it. Goddess, she'd known this was coming – had felt it.
He was leaving her. Just like Remy had. And so soon! Without warning, none except his absences.
"Don't make this harder than it is, Ro," he said to her.
"Harder than it is? Harder than it is? You are leaving me!"
"I'm comin' back," he countered quickly. "Probably sooner 'n ya think. I'll come back ta ya."
"And when will that be, pray tell? . . . A week, a month, a year?" Ororo squinted at him.
"Probably three weeks," he said. "At the most."
"You aren't leaving, Logan."
Logan narrowed his eyes at her. "Ya don't tell me what ta do, darlin'. Ya can't pull rank on me."
"No? Oh! That's right, because you are no longer part of the team, right? Is that what you're saying?"
When he didn't answer her immediately, Ororo angrily sprang from the bed and marched up towards him. Logan leaned back in his seat and calmly met her deadly glare. Ororo's voice lowered chillingly, dropping an octave as she fought to control her breathing.
"You mean to tell me," she began, "that after all we just went through in this relationship – us getting back together after what happened with Jean, after I forgave you - that you're not only going to leave the team but me as well?" she intoned dangerously. "You said you loved," Ororo accused.
"I do," he asserted just as firmly.
She flung her arms in his direction wildly. "Then what the hell are you doing!"
"I'm getting this mess out the way, Ro," Logan shouted, jumping to his feet so that barely half a foot now separated them. "Once 'n for all. So shit like what happened last week never happens again. F**k, can't ya see that?"
"Can you see?" she challenged him, staring at the man before her in wonder. "Can't you see what you're doing? What you're giving up? The Professor can you help you discover these things. You don't have to go. He's trying Logan. It takes time."
"Too much flamin' time! And ain't none of it done much good up until what we found out last week, after questioning the little Laura girl and Charles looking into my head. I got a lead now. I know where I can look to find out answers," he went on, "instead of here playing house and being good little soldier boy while the bastards who took my life are still out there," he finished.
Ororo couldn't believe what she was hearing from him. Had his time there with them – with her – been so terrible?
"Logan, you have a new life, a new family. Why isn't that good enough for you?"
"I ne—"
"That's always the case. You're too busy looking back that you can't ever move forward. Why can't you be happy with what you have now, Logan, hm? Tell me!"
"'Cos I'll never be happy until I get that piece of my life back! Until I know what the hell is wrong with my head. 'Til I know who the redhead is that I keep having flashbacks about and why . . ." his voice suddenly softened, "why she calls me . . . James."
Ororo frowned, her brow knotting. Confusion permeated her thoughts. "Your . . . Your name is . . . J-James?"
Logan groaned. "Maybe. I dunno . . . But I will."
He stooped and grabbed his bag.
Ororo began to panic. She took a step forward. "Don't Logan. Please."
His head dropped and he shifted on his feet. Logan exhaled resignedly and beckoned the woman forward with his free hand. "C'mere, come gimme a kiss goodbye."
"You . . . are not . . . LEAVING!" Ororo yelled. Her darkened blue eyes swam and tears crept down her face. Logan closed his eyes against the sight of them, clenching his jaw against the pain he felt himself at hurting her. He thought better of kissing her goodbye after all. Maybe if he did he'd never leave and do what it was he had to do. Logan spared her one last glance, crossing bedroom, and pulled open the door. "I'll be back, Ro. I promise ya."
He left the room, but Ororo followed and was hot on his heels, running down the steps after him. "No! Please! Logan!" Not again, not again . . .
She pulled on his arm, her face wet from crying. Scott, Jean, and Bobby stood from their seats in the sitting room, sadly watching the scene taking place in the foyer.
"Don't leave me again. Do you hear me? Re—Logan!"
Logan froze with his hand on the knob, facing the door.
By now several members of the team had joined the others in the entrance hall, staring at Wolverine and Ororo with sad countenances. Jean looked on at her best friend tearfully. Ororo's pain swept over her in waves, empathically and through their connection. Scott tightened his hold on her when he heard his fiancée's sniffles. He, too, was saddened for Ororo. She had just helped he and Jean reconcile only weeks earlier and here she was now feeling the pain of encroaching loss.
x x x
Ororo's sweater was falling off of her shoulders, strands of hair stuck to her damp face, and her slightly trembling body shook with quiet sobs. Her next words were so full of heartfelt petition, everyone watching heart's nearly broke at the sound. It was unnerving to watch the regal goddess reduced to begging and pleading.
"Don't," she beseeched him, ". . . please . . . don't–don't leave . . . ," she whispered.
Logan eyes burned. The action unfamiliar. He hung his head low and muttered without turning to face her. "I'll be back, darlin'. I promise."
Ororo felt the loss even before she closed her eyes and heard the door slam shut a moment later.
Sheets of rain immediately began to pound down upon the roof and Ororo fell in a heap unto the floor.
Immediately Jean surged forward and held her friend. She opened her mouth but could find no adequate words of comfort to offer. She just held her.
Members of the team shot each other sad looks as they all observed the two women helplessly. After a while they all slowly began to scatter, touching Ororo lightly and telling her it'd be all right. Ororo could hardly answer; she just met their touches with her own, appreciatively laying her hands over theirs.
The door opened again several minutes later and Remy came in with Rogue following, both of them drenched and dripping unto the floor.
He opened his mouth to complain about the rain and froze.
His dark eyes went to Jean, holding his Stormy huddled on the floor, and hurried over and dropped to the ground beside them. Mon Dieu. He didn't know what the hell was happening, but his heart ached upon hearing her weep – seeing her in such a miserable position.
"Chèrie . . . Chèrie what's wrong, huh? Tell Remy." His heart hammered with alarm, until he began to make out what she was saying.
"L-Left," she stammered wetly. "He left. H-He's gone."
Remy's brow scrunched with confusion a moment before the realization hit him. He glanced at Jean. She nodded her head slowly, answering the silent question in his eyes.
A small gasp sounded.
"Logan . . . Logan's gone?" Rogue screeched behind them. Jean nodded silently. Rogue stood in shock for a long moment. She made a noise that sounded something like a sob, before bolting up the staircase. Seconds later they heard her door slam.
Remy sighed, taking over Jean's position and pulling Ororo into his arms, heedless of his wet clothes. He held her and brushed her hair soothingly, his own unresolved situation with Ororo temporarily forgotten. He didn't know how to feel. He was sure if he'd explored it further he'd be ashamed so he didn't. He just held her, comforting like he'd done so many times before when it was just them.
"I have ya, chère. Hush, bébé, s'okay. S'okay, Stormy."
He pressed his cools lips to her forehead, the rain still beating down outside amidst flashes of lightning that intermittently illuminated the dark, empty hall.
Author's Note: Please, do not kill me for this chapter. And no, this isn't the last we'll see of Logan.
This is the defining chapter of the story; we're officially halfway now. I understand this fic may or may not be proceeding the way some would want it to, but I've done my best not to write a conventional, straightforward, romance story. I know how I've decided this will end, and I hope you'll catch my vision if you should decide to stick with me. Thank you for all your reviews, alerts, favorite-ing, and feedback. It's very appreciated.
To Be Continued