Chapter Fourteen

"Ah've got family in New Orleans, but Ah've never been myself. Ah'd sure like to though," Rogue was saying—near shouting almost, over the noisome cacophony inside of Harry's. The small local bar in downtown Salem Center was almost always extra busy on the weekends. The loud noise didn't bother her though, but rather, the lack of noise coming from the unresponsive, somewhat sullen, man beside her.

While Bobby and Kathryn were moving out on the dance floor – which Rogue enviously noted – Remy stared blankly down at the shiny tabletop, repeatedly tapping his index finger against the bottom of his glass, a sweating, barely-touched scotch on the rocks. He was supposed to have been her companion tonight. Some companion, Rogue complained to herself. The southerner watched him, sighing and tried again to get his attentions.

"Ah'd need someone ta show me around of course . . ."

Nothing.

Rogue forced a strained chuckle. "Ya never know, one day, maybe, you could . . . ? Show me around, ya know? That'd be really somethang."

Silence.

The southerner frowned, laying a gloved hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Remy?"

She shook him a little after her third attempt, with more insistence this time, her frustration reaching its peak. "Remy? Do you hear me? Are ya listenin' at all?"

The Cajun finally glanced up at her, his eyes covered by dark glasses even though they were inside. Hidden behind the shades, his gaze darted over to the frowning brunette sitting across from him.

"Are ya alright?" she posed, fighting to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"I'm alright." Remy tossed back a hearty gulp of the drink. All he could think about was Ororo.

"Ya seem distracted," she noted.

"I kno'. My apologizes, chère. M'sorry."

"Anythang Ah can help with?"

"Nah," Remy told her after a brief pause. He thought about Ororo's reaction right before her escape from the greenhouse before Bobby, Kat, and Anna had shown up and shook his head again.

"Remy'll handle it. No worries." He flashed her a brief, hint of a smile and finished off the glass of now watery scotch.

He didn't want to be here right now, no matter his promise to come out with the three other X-Men tonight. What he really wanted to do was head back to the mansion, find his Stormy, and finished what they'd started. So close. He'd been so damn close. Ororo – the stubborn femme. Strong-willed to a fault. He simultaneously loved and loathed that about her.

For the first time that night after being brought out his fog, Remy finally noticed Rogue wistfully staring out onto the dance floor where Bobby and Kitty were out there, pressed together in a dance, laughing cheerily, and Remy felt a prick of guilt. The southerner didn't look to be enjoying herself at all. Her feet tapped to the rhythm of the current song, but her face was listless, which was a shame because it took away from her attractiveness. Rogue had sass, and she'd been a good friend in his time at Xavier's since returning. Very enjoyable to be around. In fact, in his weaker, more pessimistic moments wherein he considered his current situation with Ororo, Remy had wondered if his efforts in getting Ororo to return his affections were the sensible thing when Ororo loved Logan and when he found Rogue to be very attractive. And it was more than obvious she found him attractive as well – it wouldn't have been a difficult matter at all to pursue Rogue instead of the untouchable African goddess.

Still, fun and pretty the Mississippi born mutant was, but in spite of all that, the very thing she simply was not, was his Stormy. No one was like Ororo, and at the end of the day, when the dust settled, the feisty southerner wasn't what he wanted; she wasn't the woman he loved – had loved for so long, in one way or another.

But, regardless of his prior lack of success, hope blossomed in Remy's heart. Ororo's defenses were slowly, but surely coming down. Like the walls of Jericho. He'd seen that clearly this afternoon. She had been on the verge of confirming what his heart and mind had long been telling him, even before they'd been interrupted. And when he got back, he would be certain to make sure that they fell completely.

Rogue sighed loudly as she watched Kathryn and her ex moving out on the floor. At least someone was having fun, though it certainly wasn't her. Rogue didn't have a clue as to what had taken place between Ororo and Remy earlier in the greenhouse, but it most surely seemed to be the cause of Remy's present attitude and she wondered, not for the first time since they left the grounds, just what she, Kathryn, and Bobby had walked in on. Ororo's hasty departure was strange – the woman didn't run from anything.

The scene had left her disconcerted. And the man's entire demeanor afterwards was nothing if not off-putting. How was she ever going to get closer to him the way things were going? Another sigh escaped her just as she felt Remy rise from the table and come around towards her. Her eyes widened when he extended a hand. Her heart pounded excitedly as she heard the words she'd been dying to hear all night.

"C'mon, chère. Let's dance. Kitty 'n de Popsicle ain't de only ones dat should be havin' all de fun, non?"

Surprise, surprise, that'd been just what she'd been thinking. Rogue grinned brightly, her green eyes twinkling with fresh delight. Her glumness vanished instantly. "Alright, let's go!" Rogue jumped to her feet, clinging onto Remy's arm as they shuffled in amongst the dancing crowd of bodies. She waved happily at Bobby and Kitty as she passed them. She held onto Remy firmly and began swaying.

x x x

At the mansion, Scott gargled and spat out the minty green mouthwash before addressing his fiancée. "He's in love with her, you know."

Jean laid her book down across her lap and lifted a titian eyebrow. "Come again?" She watched her fiancé inspecting his teeth in the mirror above the sink.

"LeBeau. He's in love with Ororo . . . and she loves him too." Satisfied with his nightly hygienic ablutions, Scott flipped off the light-switch and strode back into the bedroom.

"I was always suspicious of them – especially Ororo. You saw how she was after he left the first time. Remember?"

"Of course I do. For a time Ororo was inconsolable."

"Uh-huh. But now things have changed. If they get together it will be good for her, I say. The situation with Wolverine's absence has really depressed her, and Rogue for that matter. He's not good for her – he's not good for anybody."

The last part sounded almost bitter coming from Scott's lips and Jean frowned, feeling somewhat guilty, for she was undoubtedly responsible for much of Scott's hatred of Logan. Logan's absence had been felt by everyone, even her. All except Scott and Remy it seemed. For everyone else, it was a bit disheartening. She, herself, could hardly dwell on it even if she wanted to. Things with Scott had improved so much; all Jean could really be concerned about in the time being was keeping it that way. So, she didn't speak much of Logan and her feelings about his actions. She did consider Logan a friend, and, even though it had been inappropriate, something more than that not so long ago and because of that, she could empathize greatly with Ororo. But Jean knew Scott's statements about Ororo and Remy were true also. She had, on several occasions, sensed emotional and empathic impressions from both of them enough to recognize it for what it was and knew wholeheartedly that there was truth to what her fiancée was telling her.

Jean snuggled up to Scott after he'd climbed under their bedspread and exhaled softly. "I agree that both Remy and Ororo have feelings for one another, but you're forgetting something."

Scott looked down at her. "Oh?"

"Yes. Ororo has feelings for Remy, but she has feelings for Logan, too."

"Well, I'm rooting for Remy," said Scott.

"Scott . . ."

"No, I mean it."

"You know it'll be hell if Logan comes back and they are together, don't you?"

The first X-Man reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp. "Yup. And that's putting it lightly. It's a hard lesson, but Wolverine's got to learn it eventually."

Jean frowned into the dark. "Learn what?"

"That there are consequences for your actions."

The two mumbled lowly to each other for a brief time afterwards until finally drifting off to sleep. The mansion was silent, with all its occupants slumbering soundly. Gambit, Rogue, Bobby and Kathryn had yet to return.

Her father pecked away on his typewriter . . . her mother in the small kitchen with dinner well under way . . . Wonderful. It smelled wonderful. A dark little blue-eyed, white-haired girl played on the wooden floor. The small girl was giggling and her mother and father shook their heads fondly and smiled down at her.

"Ororo, what are you pl—"

Then the roar of a plane. The deafening crash. Her father hollering loudly, and her mother's scream. Then blackness. The images replayed vividly, scrolling through her mind like an old film roll. Waking violently, Ororo's tortured scream tore through the mansion, accompanied by a frightening crack of lightening, like a whip, shattering the silence.

The four X-Men, now back from Harry's, were just coming upon the mansion front entrance, quietly laughing and chattering amongst themselves when they heard it. All of them stopped dead in their tracks and beside Bobby, Kathryn jumped, startled by it.

"What was that?" she gasped. "Was . . . was that . . .?"

"Stormy . . ."

The rain began beating earnestly then, the wind picking up around them. Gambit glanced up at the outside of Ororo's balcony, its doors blown wide open and her curtains fluttering wildly. Panic gripped him and without a second thought, Gambit ran up the short set of steps, burst through the heavy front doors and rushed up the stairs towards Ororo's loft, his heart pounding uncontrollably.

He could distinctly hear what sounded like several others following in behind him, but it was all peripheral. He needed to get to Ororo. The door to the loft fell open under the Cajun's weight. Gambit stopped short when he saw her. Ororo, in a tangled mass of covers, tossing and moaning awfully. Gambit rushed towards her.

Her eyes were white and little snaps of electricity flickered about them. She muttered rapidly, incoherently, in a broken mix of English and Arabic he could discern. "No," she cried. "Don't go. Don't leave. Please!"

"Chère . . . chèrie! C'mon, bèbè, wakeup."

Gambit grabbed her face on both sides. "'Roro, wakeup, ma chère. S'okay, petite, wakeup. Please."

Frightened whimpers continued to escape her. Her voice rose in pitch and cracked brokenly when she yelled, followed by her uttering gravely, "Nooo! Don't go—don't leave me—pleeease!"

Lightning streaked brilliantly and the thunder was near deafening outside of the windows as Ororo arched up rigidly on the bed and then, suddenly, limply fell back down to the mattress. The tossing and fitfulness had stopped, but her body shook badly and she continued her quiet sobbing.

"Oh, Stormy. Mon Dieu, belle, c'mere . . ."

Her body, from head to toe, trembled, feeling feverish. Remy carefully managed to pull her down and into his lap, protectively circling his arms around her. His heart was in his throat, seeing her that way. It'd been a long time since he'd seen her in the midst of a fit like that. No doubt, she'd had a nightmare, only when Ororo had a nightmare it was more . . . terrifying, for the elements themselves responded to the woman's turmoil.

"Oh my God, is everything all right?" Jean Grey appearing clutching at her robe, Scott hovered beside her, and stared – chest heaving – down at both Ororo and Remy. Both of them looked dishelved.

"I . . . I felt her distress," the redheaded telepath divulged, panting.

"Yeah, and the rest of heard it," Scott replied. "Scared us all."

Downstairs several frightened children, disturbed from their slumber and the all the noise and commotion, peeked outside of the comfort of their rooms and out into the hall, whispering fearfully among themselves.

There were rapid footsteps on the stairs to the loft and then, voices calling up to them. "Everything all right? Shit, what is going on?"

Scott stood at the top of the landing and assured them calmly, "It's all right, guys—everything's okay." And then Kitty's voice: "Is Ororo all right? Anna, Remy, Bobby and I were just coming back when heard—"

"She's fine," said Scott. He glanced over at the weather-wielding mutant, quivering in LeBeau's arms. "Looks like she just had a nightmare." Scott studied the tender scene, Gambit's look of worry and relief and he stroked her hair and face, whispering to Ororo softly. "LeBeau's taking care of her."

Jean had been watching the two former thieves as well and gazed up at her fiancé with a knowing look in her eyes. She joined Scott at his side. "The students are probably scared and confused. Why don't you, Bobby, Warren and the rest go and see to them. Everything's fine up here."

"Sure thing." That came from Angel.

'How is she, Jean?' The Professor.

'She's seems okay now,' Jean responded telepathically, 'Gambit is with her.'

'I see. Good, I will see about her come morning. I could sense her duress.'

'As did I.'

"They - They died—dead—gone . . . u-under the rumble," Ororo was whispering shakily. She curled in Gambit's arms like a baby, and he in turn held her like one, embracing her as if she was just as precious. Like before, only his feelings this time were different, stronger – the feelings a man has for a woman – not a little girl that he'd once played protector to.

"I kno', chère, Remy knows." He understood she was speaking of her parents – the accident that took them from her. Such dreams had plagued her sporadically since he'd known Ororo, especially if prompted by a fit of claustrophobia. He wasn't prepared, however, for what she muttered next.

"And then - then Logan . . . him too . . ."

Gambit listened silently, his jaws tightening.

"But—you—Remy you were gone too . . . l-lost to me . . . all of you GONE." A long mournful sob escaped her and she leaned up, still glad in her nightgown, damp with swea,t and buried her face against Remy's neck. "Remy, I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Chère . . ."

After she'd awoke the storm outside had lessened greatly but upon its mistress' distress the storm quickened again, less tumultuous but boisterous still.

"Hush, bèbe . . . Remy ain't goin' nowhere."

Ororo clung to him like a drowning man to a life raft floating to safety, sputtering apologies and words of contrition. "Etienne, beloved . . . I-I do love you."

Remy sighed, so deep it seemed to come from his soul, and closed his eyes blissfully, savoring the words that had tumbled from her lips. This woman he loved.

Ororo pulled her wet, tear-streaked face back from its home on his shoulder and stared at him with a look of wonder, deep emotion glistened in her eyes. She still hiccupped and sniffed occasionally, but managed through her sniffles to clutch his face between her hands and say, "I do-do want you too. Always have."

His breathing was labored and stilted. Had she . . .? Had she just—?

"Kiss me," she told him, ". . . kiss me now." Without a second's thought, Ororo closed her eyes and crushed her mouth to Remy's.

Jean and Scott, who had watched wordlessly up until then, gasped and glanced at each other in amazement.

Oh my God . . .

Jean silently jerked her head in the direction of the door and Scott nodded in wordless agreement, attempting to take his leave as quietly as possible, intent on allowing the two privacy when he caught sight of Rogue standing at the door, staring at the couple, hugging and kissing on the floor, realization and hurt etched on her features. Distraught didn't describe the expression she wore.

CANADA . . . . . .

Anxiety filled Wolverine's adamantium bones as he stared out of a dirty window in his motel – a dingy, cheap little motel room he'd been in the last four days as he studied the maps and documents Xavier had given him while contemplating and plotting his next move.

But restlessness stirred within him and though Logan was tired, he wasn't looking forward to when sleep eventually claimed him because he knew more disturbing nightmares were waiting. He had the subtle sense that something was wrong. Somehow, somewhere, something was off. He worried it was Ororo or someone back at the mansion. But he was several hundred miles away – what the hell could he do even if it was? That's right – nothing.

"Shit." Logan passed thick fingers through the tufts of his wild, dark hair.

Jus' get this shit done, he told himself. Get done and ya can go home. Back ta the mansion . . . back ta 'Ro."

Author's Note: Tremendously, tremendously sorry for the long lack of an update - honestly. I cannot explain how immersed I've been with other matters, but still, I sincerely apologize. This story is still in continuance. I pray I haven't lost my audience :D Thank you for your patience during such a long wait, and for reading and commenting. My appreciation to everyone who has commented & left a review :D

To Be Continued