Title: Breathe

Date: Friday, first week of class

7:57 PM

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters - Lab

"Well," Hank sighed and smiled feebly at Moira. "At least we know you know you don't have brain cancer."

Moira groaned, running a hand through her brown and gray hair. For the duration of her time at the mansion she had been cat-scanned at least once a day upon her own request. She was determined she and Hank would find a jump on the trackings of her brain waves, proving she was only hearing voices out of nervousness triggering her self conscious. But, oh no, low and behold her ever trusting science had failed her. She snatched the lastest reports on her brain and body and tiredly traced the material with her eyes. "I see why you're so weary."

Hank chuckled, "It's all in a days work, my dear."

Aggrivated that she wasn't crazy, like she slightly hoped she was - at least it would explain Charles' voice running through her head!- Moira turned back to the computer she'd been staring at. Kayla Fox's profile was on the screen, Moira had been analyzing every possible detail her ex-husband had made on the young woman. Why was she so important? And why did Charles suddenly end his comments about her?

"She was pretty."

Hank looked up from the charts he observed, "Mmm. Yes."

"Around...twenty-five or so, would you say?"

"There should be a note of her age towards the top."

Moira scrolled and found it, "Ah. Yes, thank you." She quickly scanned the basic information, her brows pulling together in concentration. "Canadian. School teacher. Pregnant- but we already knew that."

"Canadian?"

Moira knodded, "Well, I'm not entirely sure. Though she did reside there for six years. That's when he started her profile."

"Hmmm..."

Moira turned in her chair to face Hank again, "What are you thinking?"

He didn't meet her gaze, but instead got up and went to the cork board tacked with notes.

"Hank?"

Beast turned to face her, "I think we need start on Cerebro again."

"Oh Hank," Moira sighed. "We've tried. We need someone with telepathic abilities. Cerebro won't work with just a computer system."

"Yes," Hank knodded. "I know. Moira, I'm going to send a letter to the few telepathic mutants still willing to work with us. Perhaps someone will respond."

She looked skeptical. "But no one has the strength that Charles had to run Cerebro."

"No," He agreed. "But, with you and I at the data base, perhaps we can help our volunteer and make the experience easier." When she said nothing, he added, "We have to try, Moira."

"I want to know more about profile: FOX," She stated. "No one knows why it's so confidential?"

Hank shook his head, "Absolutely no one. Charles put a password block on it."

Moira smirked, "I bet I could figure it out."

"By all means," Hank offered.

She turned and furiously tried everything that associated with Charles to open profile: FOX. After five attempts with words such as mutants, mutant rights, mutant equality, x-men, Moira sighed. Hank stood behind her, pondering. "May I?" He reached around her and typed in Moira. The file unlocked.

Hank and Moira stared at the file displayed on the screen.

"Oh," she whispered. "My. God..."

8:30 PM

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters - Kitchen

"Seriously?" Domino frowned.

Logan, arms crossed, knodded. "Thirty pack, no cheap shit."

"You are takin' a big chunk outta my wallet, Claws!"

He smiled, amused. "An' you took a bug chunk outta my time, Spot."

Domino glared, "It's bad enough you won't let me fly the jet anymore. Now I have to buy you beer?"

"Yup." He walked to the sink and started to wash the grease off his hands. "You know where 'Ro is? Gotta see what other shit she needs done 'round her."

Domino, searching her wallet to see if she even had cash on her for her beer run, muttered. "She's been in her room all night."

"Doin' what?" Logan glanced at the chalky white woman.

She shrugged, "Beats me. Probably paper work."

Phew, Logan thought. Paper work was safe. That meant she wouldn't give him anymore guilt or distrusting faces. Paper work was sanctuary.

He left Domino in the kitchen after he dried his towels. Ororo's room was the very last in the right hall on the second floor. He'd never been in her room, never even known which one it was until after Charles' death. Storm had retreated to her private quarters after giving a speech at the funeral. Logan had smelled her enter the mansion before anyone else. He would have at least given her a "nice job" but she'd entered and shut the door before he was able to get a word out that day.

Logan gazed out the window as he passed it on his turn towards the staircase. Fat, slow drops of rain slopped down upon the ground and panes of the window. Uh oh, he was pretty sure it was supossed to be clear skies today...

Quickening his pace, Logan reached the top of the stairs and rounded to the right for Storm's room. He took a breath and gently knocked on her door, "'Ro...?"

Like a flash, Ororo had pushed herself into Logan's arms. She held him around the neck, sobbing desperately into his shoulder. By judge of the weather, he'd expected her to be crying. Though this was not the reaction he'd expected to recieve. Instinctively, Logan pulled his arms around Ororo's slim body. Had she always been this small? With each choke of breath that followed with more sobs, Logan hugged her tighter as they stood in the doorway.

"Shhhh, 'Ro," he whispered tenderly. "I'm right here, darlin'." Whatever was bothering her, Logan felt a strong new emotion towards his friend. Protection. At this moment, with Ororo clinging to him for support, he wanted nothing more then to take away the pain she was feeling. "Shhhh, it's alright. Shhh..." He pressed his lips closer to her ear, into her hair. His enhanced smelling picked up a faint coconut scent - shampoo, probably.

"Tighter," Ororo mumbled.

Logan chuckled a little and squeezed a little harder. "Tell me what' wrong, 'Ro."

She was very quiet, her sobs increasing again. "K-K-Kurt."

"Shhh, what about Kurt?" He gently pulled away from her, reaching up to dislodge her grip behind his neck. Logan gently held her finger tips, palms down.

Ororo wouldn't meet his eyes, she stared at the floor, tears dropping down.

"'Ro..."

She took a hand out from his light grip and pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket. It was folded, multiple times over. His eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Logan looked at Storm as he took the paper from her. He opened it, letting go of her other hand.

"Holy shit," He whispered, fear and outrage in his voice. He held a piece of computer paper with a photo of Kurt Wagner printed on it. Kurt was...absolutely mutilated. His body parts had been chopped from the torso, his eyes gauged out, there were multiple holes in his chest. It was disgusting. Absolutely disturbing. Kurt died with terror on his face.

"He was...he was," Ororo continued to cry.

"Where, 'Ro?" Logan pressed. "Where'd Kurt go?"

"Germany," she said. "He went back to Germany, hoping to return to his village. We-we sent emails to each other. He-he was flying back next week to visit..." Her tears thickened. "R-read the rest."

So caught up with the sight of Ororo crying and Kurt dead, Logan hadn't realized the bottom message of the paper: Close down or we'll spill children's blood.

"Sonuvabitch," Logan's growl built deeper and deeper within himself. "Who did this to him?"

Ororo shook her head, "I don't know. It came from his email address." She hestitated, "Logan?"

He met her chocolate brown eyes.

"Logan," she whispered. "Don't leave again. Please. I'm begging you," she started to cry into hysterics again.

Logan's heart wrenched. She really didn't trust him still? She honestly was afraid of him ditching out on her and Hank and all the kids. His face fell, "'Ro..." he reached out and gently pulled her close again. "I ain't goin' anywhere. It'll be alright, darlin'. I'll protect yah."

She closed her eyes. "Protect the children."

Logan smiled, "I can handle both."