Let’s Begin at the Beginning (Being Friends before Becoming

Lovers) by RealstoneÓ

Logan stood outside the mansion's back door luxuriating in the crisp morning air. Puffs of air flowed from him in streams of white fog as he checked the area before him. Sending each sense to the limit of its range; receiving nothing dangerous he adjusted the borrowed headphones and pushed play. Five miles into his run Logan stopped, until the stinging in his calves began to die away. In his self-imposed solitude with only music filling his ears, he found it hard to deny the emotions pushing him toward an inevitable course of action. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, "Change," he whispered aloud, "it's all about change." Memories displaced the singer’s voice.

His thoughts returned to the present as he slowed his pace to appreciate the relatively undeveloped landscape surrounding him. Thick growths of trees and foliage were still covered with a light sprinkling of snow. Crystal clear air and a sky filled with wisps of blue-gray clouds. Those counsel meetings weren't for nothing after all. He thought of the times he’d let the professor talk him into attending city counsel meetings in hopes of preserving some of the county’s wooded areas from determined developers. The beauty surrounding him made those long tedious hours of politics worth the distress he’d felt. He allowed himself to smile; she would enjoy this. Realizing he'd missed some of the music he pulled the CD player from his pocket and pushed rewind. The CD’s whirl filled the headphones until he pushed play. After a slight pause, the smooth tones of the artist began.

Heading back to the mansion at a more leisurely pace, he paid closer attention to the lyrics. Grudgingly he acknowledged that the depth of feeling and understanding expressed in the songs stirred something within him. Feelings that had been growing since his return from Canada after exploring the leads Professor Xavier had given him. In the midst of crisis and loss, he had gain some sense of who he was and what he wanted to become. It was indeed a short period in which to become the individual he'd always thought he was.

He made it back to the mansion and inside his room, without having to explain once why he was wearing hot pink headphones. In his room, he emptied his pockets before throwing his clothes at the laundry hamper and kicked his shoes in the direction of the closet door. On his way to the bathroom Logan stopped at his audio system. He pushed a blood-red button on the gun metal gray on black face and the CD rack slid out with the quiet whoosh of plastic sliding against plastic. Taking the CD from the portable CD player, he placed it in an empty slot. Luther now had the company of his two favorites, Garth and Shania. Shower finished Logan toweled dry and dressed. His fingers hurriedly fastened buttons and raised zippers. Socks and shoes on he stopped long enough to hit the off button on the player before leaving his room.

He was on the hunt and he had a good idea of where his prey was. As he walked down the still silent hallway, he listened for her voice. Only a few of the house's residents would be up and around, she was one. Outside, he headed for a large section of the mansion’s grounds Professor Xavier had given to Ororo’s Ecology Club for reclamation. This had become her second home, a refuge like the greenhouse and her classroom. Beyond the threshold of the covered arbor was a world of green, craftily created by cultured grasses, exotic plants, trees covered in flowering vines, and sculptured water features. The higher humidity was slightly uncomfortable, but his body quickly adjusted. Squinting slightly, he sighted her in a corner. Gathering his thoughts, he covered the distance between them. He now felt more confident in what he wanted to say to her. Several feet away from where she was working, he stopped.

"Yes, Logan."

"Up for company?"

"You’re always welcome."

He moved closer. The scent of newly turned earth and sand, the heavy sweetness of flowering plants, the bitterness of chemicals, and the saltiness of human sweat and healthy female came to him with each breath.

Logan cleared his throat. "Need help?"

Ororo shook her head no, as she continued to empty a large bag of soil into a planter surrounding a large River Birch. Arms folded across his chest he waited until she was finished. He watched her, the movement of muscle under smooth skin covered by a very form fitting dirt-streaked t-shirt. His eyes lingered on the lines and curves of her body. He couldn't say he and Ororo were bosom buddies or close friends, but there was some kind of intangible connection between them, one of extended relationships and incidents spanning three years of shared experiences. What brought them even closer was her recognition of his need for distance. She had even understood on some level, his emotional yearning for someone he could not have.

Ororo tore open the empty bag and laid it on a pile for recycling. Dusting off her pant legs, she faced Logan. Her gaze held his thoughtful one. "Run finished?"

Logan nodded yes.

"Beautiful morning for it." Pulling off her work gloves, she placed them between her knees. With both hands free she combed her fingers through the strands of hair that had worked free of its ponytail holder. Logan grinned as she scratched at a place behind her ear. Ororo returned his grin as she put her gloves back on. Her glance moved passed Logan to the landscape surrounding them; everything was growing. Even though the winter had not been pleasant, the more established birches, evergreens, and smaller bushes had given the more exotic species shelter and only a third of the plantings had been lost. This was a blessing considering what could have happened. Her glance moved back to Logan waiting for him to either continue or end their conversation. Seldom had she experienced him in the mood for small talk.

"Thanks for the CD."

"But?" She asked, at his look of uncertainty.

Logan shifted his stance moving closer to her. "Feels..." his hands pushed deeper into his jean pockets. "Too personal…to give to someone not...more involved in my life." His eyes moved over her face, taking in hair dampened with sweat, a streak of dirt on her neck, eyes sparkling with life and vitality. "Do you need the CD back?"

"At your convenience." Under his steady gaze, Ororo began to feel awkward, as if she needed to fill the space between them with words…something. "When you are finished pass it on to Rogue. I told her she could use it for her poetry project." She shivered as a breeze moved though the trees cooling the sweat on her skin. "If the CD is not what you wanted, have you decided on something else?"

"No. If you're not busy, I'd like your help in selecting something else."

Ororo watched Logan walk away, her mind filled with a myriad of questions.

Logan reached over and pulled on the string of cheese running from Ororo's lips to the large slice of pizza topped with extra cheese and vegetables.

"Thanks." She said, from behind a napkin.

Logan nodded, licking the sliver of cheese from his fingers; he wiped his mouth and leaned back in the booth to stretch out his legs. His mind filled with the times he'd been alone watching a couple sharing a similar experience. His eyes moved from the remaining slices of pizza over to elbows firmly planted on the table, up arms strong and sure. He knew how capable they were because they had saved his rear end a time or two lately. His thoughts wandered back over opportunities missed, and looking up into eyes staring back at his, he was a little more secure in the knowledge that he was no longer alone.

"What?"

"I was commenting on the fact that the radio stations are playing the heck out of Luther’s CD." He recognized the phrase fading from the loud speakers overhead.

"You really think Jean’ll like this?" Logan ran the large square of silk through the space between his thumb and forefinger. Vibrant colors of green, olive, and pale yellow gave the scarf an unconventional appearance.

"Yes."

He folded it back into the silver foil wrapped gift box.

"Are you going to give it to her at the party?"

The creases between Logan’s eyes deepened. "No, sometime before. The competition thing is getting old."

"Amen."

A deep chuckle spilled from Logan. A thought filled his mind and he voiced it. "How about a movie?"

Ororo stopped in mid-chew, surprise written all over her face.

"Okay. What?"

"The Last Samurai."

Closing her eyes Ororo shook her head. "Figures."

Standing in line to pay for their tickets, Logan caught bits of a whispered conversation. He surveyed the people around them finally honing in on a group of youths two windows away.

"Beautiful," said a young black man with rippling muscles as he punched the shoulder of a tall blond standing next to him.

"Oh, yeah," agreed the blond.

"Wonder if she'd consider dumping the old guy?" Added the tallest of the five youths.

"He don’t look that old or that easy to dump." Said another.

"Besides. He's standing so close to her, it'll take a crowbar to separate them." The group laughed.

"Whatcha’ say he presses?" Asked the blond as he passed the teller his money. The five looked Logan over.

"He can probably lift you and me both," came from somewhere in the middle of the group.

Ororo felt Logan's chest move against her back. She turned slightly to look at him, a look of puzzlement on her face.

"We were just paid a complement." Logan’s smiled, making Ororo suspicious.

She looked from Logan to the faces closest to them.

"Two rows over. The children walking up the stair, on your right."

Ororo moved forward a half stepped to see clearer. She focused on the five college-age males. She looked back at Logan. "Was it a good one?"

Logan looked her up and down for a moment; a knowing smiled touched his lips. "I'd say so."

"That’s not telling me anything."

"Get a move on woman." Logan pushed her up several steps toward the teller. "We are going to miss the good seats."

Exiting the theatre Logan's hand cupped the back of Ororo's arm guiding her through the crowd flowing from the other theatres. In front of them were two of the young men he'd seen earlier, standing near a bathroom entrance. One of them, recognizing Logan, gave a ‘thumb’s up’ sign. Logan replied with a grin. Ororo, wiping at the tears clouding her vision, saw the exchange and headed in the direction of the youth.

"No you don't." Logan steered her toward the mall exit.

"I just wanted to..."

"Be nosey. Just enjoy the idea that some tender young thing gave you a second look."

"I got your second look." Ororo’s eyebrow rose toward her hairline. "I’ll have you know I get first, second, and third looks."

Logan took her hand in his. "Yes, dear I know you do. Let's go home."

Ororo snatched her hand away from a laughing Logan. Outside, under a sky filled with stars, Logan felt more at ease. It had been a good night. He followed Ororo’s glance upward, then returned his gaze to her. As another child of nature, he understood the delight on her face. Ororo felt Logan's glance as she stood looking up into the star strewn darkness. She smiled at him, one full and uncomplicated. "Thank you Logan, this has been a very nice evening."

"You liked the movie?" His finger wiped at a trace of moisture left near the corner of her eye.

"Yes. Was it anywhere close to the truth?"

Logan had told her a small portion of his connection to the East and she had tried to decipher the truth from the fiction by reading as much as she was able.

"As close as any story told a thousand years later."

She looked at him, taking in the sorrow etched in the lines surrounding his eyes.

"Ready to head back?" Logan asked, the sound of old sorrows tinted his words.

"Yes and no. I want to stop at the music store."

Logan raised his eyebrows in question.

"I want the soundtrack."

Seated inside the Rover, Ororo reached over and unlocked the driver’s side door for Logan. She put her copy of the key in the ignition and started the truck. Logan adjusted his body underneath the steering wheel and pulled the seatbelt across him. It was a concession he'd made after she refused to ride with him otherwise. "Don’t think I’ve ever had a woman unlock a car door for me."

Ororo smiled to herself. "Have you seen the movie "A Bronx Tale?"

"Don’t think so." Looking in the rearview mirror Logan saw a Ford one-ton preparing to pull out of the lane across from them.

"Robert De Niro portrays the father of a young man growing up in 1960's New York."

"And?" Half turned in the seat to look out the rear window, Logan rested his arm across the seat behind Ororo’s head. Strands of her hair blown by the wind from the open window tickled the back of his arm.

"There is a scene in the move that I’ve always wanted to imitate." Ororo moved about until she was comfortable. More of her hair moved against his skin. Logan’s eyes narrowed at the sensation. He was tempted to grab a hand full.

"You’re gonna make me watch the movie."

"Yep." Ororo patted Logan’s thigh in sympathy, adding to the growing awareness of her within him.

Feeling something shift in the dynamics between them Ororo broke the silence. "It's too quiet in here." She moved forward and pushed play on the CD player.

"I thought this was making the rounds."

Logan’s answer was a non committal grunt.

Ororo snuggled down in the seat her face turned toward the passenger window. Her fingers moved in time to the music.

"Okay?" Logan asked.

Their eyes met, "astonished at how easy tonight has been."

Logan looked away checking the truck's mirrors. Pleased that he'd was able to return some of the kindness she had shown him.

"Your feelings about tonight?" She asked.

"Having a friend makes getting through things like this, easier." His voice was low, the tone holding a hint of fatalism.

"Having a good time is a thing?"

When he didn't say anything she continued. "What about Jean?" Ororo began, feeling her way. He was willing to talk and she wanted to understand how he saw his relationship with her best friend. From the moment he had asked her about the gift for Jean, she too had given serious thought about how far she would allow him to become involved in her life. Ororo turned her head, her eyes searching his face, watching the muscles around his mouth tightened as he thought over his answer.

"I need to have someone in my life that I can talk to, be with, without having to second guess my thoughts. Search my motives. Touch her without feeling invasive. I'll never be able to tell her everything. Words between us to often have to be weighed, measured." Logan glanced over at her then back at traffic. He was able to continued, Ororo’s expression had been thoughtful with no hint of the irritation he had expected. There are feelings between us, but it will never be close to what she has with Scott. I'm too late as usual."

"You're no longer pursing her?"

"Not the way you think. It's not in me to maintain useless causes."

"Oh."

"Oh what?"

"The manchild is growing up." The laughter in her voice was infectious.

"Yeah right. By the way Munroe, you are going to tell me what you did in the truck tonight has to do with that movie."

"Blockbusters have it for rent."

Ororo knocked on the door of Logan's classroom.

"What!"

She entered the room expecting to find it full of cigar smoke and Logan hiding behind a stack of athletic equipment. Instead he sat frowning down at a Blue Book, surrounding by boxes filled with plaques. She smiled remembering his very vocal displeasure at being selected as sponsor of the awards committee for the upcoming graduation. In addition to that injustice, according to a much ticked Loan, he’d also been assigned the task of helping some of the seniors who needed community service hours for their college admission’s applications. Three had decided on volunteering at and collecting donated items for a local AIDS hospice.

Logan suggested "in a moment of insanity," his words, that the three write articles for the newspaper about the experience. So now he was stuck reading the articles. In the quiet that was disturbed now and then by the rustle of pages being turned. Ororo glanced at the lowered head of the man she regarded as a friend; a friend currently ignoring her.

Like the other members of the X-Men their time together this year had been sparse. The team had worked individually or as a small group on numerous missions in conjunction with branches of the U.S. government. Something Logan was still skeptical about. With the tentative truce between mutant and normals in place the influx of new students had been steady on top of plans made spring finals and submission of final grades. One week they’d lived through a seemingly endless number of 2 a.m. fire alarms. Scott had finally solved the problem by putting a pair of pliers to Remy's upgrades to the mansion’s security system.

Ororo felt she and everyone else was more than ready for a change.

"I’ve come to invite you out."

"What do you have planned?" Logan rubbed his forehead continuing to read.

"WWE is in town. I bought tickets."

"Wrestling, you?" Logan looked up at her. He enjoyed the way she challenged his assumption that he knew her. He gave her a mental pat on the back for keeping him surprised.

"Yes, me." Ororo pulled a pair of tickets from the front of her shirt.

"Keeping it warm?"

"Best lock and key in the world."

Ororo wiggled her eyebrows at him as she sat with a slight thump in the "chair of extreme distress" near his desk. The students had officially named it that after several of the young men had visited Logan’s classroom for a one on one after a prank had gotten out of control.

"Mick Foley is scheduled to "not wrestle."

Logan made a face. "He's weak. It’s a soap opera. Besides I’ve got to finish these."

Ororo fanned herself with the tickets. "I will help, when we return."

Logan looked at the tickets, hungrily. "Tease."

"Perfectionist."

"You’ve got us all whipped on that one." Logan replied.

"You’re dawdling. Going or not?" Ororo pressed. "You’ve only left the mansion once to enjoy yourself and that was to buy your little toy. Everyone needs some downtime, even you."

Logan glared at her, then looked away to concentrate on the pages before him.

"I’m not going to go away, Logan."

You’ll never understand how much I appreciate that. Logan closed the Blue Book before him, and reached for his jacket. "When does this downtime begin?"

"As soon as you get your hinny out of that chair."

"Nose bleed seats." Logan complained as they pushed through the crowd of bodies.

"Stop griping. We’re close enough. I didn't come to get hit with a chair or a beer can."

"Who’s griping?" Logan looked at her through his beer bottle. "I'm getting free beer, paid entertainment and good company."

"Ouch!"

"What?"

"Someone just pinched me." Ororo looked around for the culprit.

"They have good taste." Logan whispered to himself as he moved closer behind her.

"Ororo's becoming more withdrawn. It's almost like when she first came to the school. Do you know what's going on with her?" Jean pulled Logan back from the door to an alcove across the hall. She looked away from the white haired woman to the man standing next to her.

"I don’t know…we haven’t talked much. One or the other of us has been too busy."

Logan looked through the doorway into the living area. The subject of their conversation was sitting on the sofa staring at the TV with several of the students. Logan watched her shoulders tense. The scent of fear and sorrow came to him and he paid more attention to the broadcast. A reporter was standing on a divider in the middle of a hectic city street, while masses of cars and human bodies moved around him. The camera view changed suddenly showing viewers a rural area of dirt roads, frail cattle, and wooden huts. The two views were shocking opposites. The reporter, in quiet tones, told of the cost the AIDS epidemic was taking in human lives and economic development for both rural and urban Africa. His account stressed the facts that even though there were not enough health care workers, drugs available for the sick or dying, food for the healthy, whole communities were banding together, striving for solutions.

Ororo raised from the couch her body rigid, eyes troubled. The students looked at each other in concern, aware that something was seriously wrong with their teacher. They watched in silence as she walked out of the room.

"Ororo?" Logan stepped away from the wall leaving Jean. His hand rested on her arm, stopping her.

Her smile was half-hearted. "I'll talk to you later. I've got a lesson plan to finish."

"You're hurting."

Ororo pulled her arm from his grasp. "Whatever I'm doing is not your concern right now."

He found her where she had said she would be, but there was not pen or pencil in her hand. No paper spread out in front of her. She stood looking out the window wiping tears from her face. Logan wrapped his arms around her, his forehead rested against the back of her head. Unconsciously, Logan took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of her. Hints of spearmint and coconut in her hair, coco butter lotion from her skin and Tide from her clothing.

"They’re suffering, Logan. My people are dying. There seems to be no end to it."

Logan said nothing just continued to hold her.

"Drug costs are prohibitive, poor governance makes it hard for health care workers already buried under mounds of paper. The continued drain of drought and the constant movement of people across the borders are making my homeland a place of desperate people."

Ororo turned in his arms to face him. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands clutched the material of his shirt. Her tears were warm on his flesh. Logan stood in silence letting her grieve. Suddenly, Ororo stepped away, rejecting his warmth, comfort. "I'm here safe and protected while they wither away."

"You give."

"Good wishes from a thousand miles away are not what they need.

Logan stepped back in front of her so that she had to face him. "What are you planning?"

Ororo took several steps back from him. "I’ve spoken to some old friends who have contacts in WOFAK.

"WOFAK?"

"Women Fighting AIDS in Kenya, they need bodies."

"How long will you be gone?"

All Ororo could do was shrug her shoulders.

"There’s danger in what you have planned."

"There’s danger in everything." Ororo stood taller, her features full of determination.

Logan wiped at one more imagined spot on the Rover's glossy surface. He was bored, he was lonely, and he was needy. He knew his yearning was more than the physical need for release. He needed to hear her voice, feel her breath on his skin. To indulge in the warmth of her body standing next to him. Logan stared out of the large garage across the grounds. It was becoming harder to stay with Ororo gone and Jean married, everything seemed different, a little darker. He almost shouted his frustration into the smothering quiet. He missed her. He missed passing a door and hearing her laughter. All he had were letters and the package of hand rolled cigars that were becoming his favorites. Thinking about Ororo made him ache. He fought the idea of putting a name to what was happening to him. Tossing the rag into the shop laundry bin, he pulled his keys from his pants pocket. He was climbing into the Rover when he saw Rogue heading in his direction.

"Hi Logan."

"Kid."

"Whatcha’ doing?"

"Heading into town."

"Can I come?"

"Can I stop ya?" Logan held open the passenger side door for her. "Where's your shadow?"

"Art appreciation class with Ms. Summers."

Logan snorted. "Bet he's enjoying that."

The summer landscape flew past. They sat in silence, Logan eyes forward, concentrating on the road. Rogue watched her surrogate parent. Wanting to hear something beside the clap, clap of the tires moving over cracks in the roadway Rogue turned the radio dial until she found her favorite station.

Logan turned the radio off with a push of his thumb.

"Hey!"

"I'm tired of hearing that." He chewed on the end of his cigar.

"Thought it was a favorite."

Logan's hands tightened on the steering wheel and the Rover sped forward.

"I see. Have you heard from Ms. Munroe?"

"What does "I see" have to do with Ororo?"

"You're not the only one who misses her. You didn't answer my question."

"I've heard from her. Things are trying to change. It’s a slow process."

"Will she be back soon?"

"Didn't say, and I didn't ask."

Ororo returned in the midst of the usual upheaval. Professor Xavier had just returned from a secret debriefing with the president. Jean, serving as interim administrator, was trying to decipher the days of paperwork the professor's absence had left her. Upon entering the institute, both telepaths sent her waves of greetings. Scott, she learned, was chaperoning a field endurance test with his leadership candidates. Late afternoon she’d passed Kitty and several other students on their way to bridge courses at the university in preparation for the fall semester. Rogue, after enveloping her in a hug, had made her promise to tell her everything when she returned from her dinner date with Bobby.

She heard his voice as she walked passed the library, his tenor solid and clear among the din of young adult voices. She guessed that it was either a late night gripe session or quick cram for an exam. Ororo stopped at the door watching the exchange between student and teacher. A raven-haired teen with extraordinary violet eyes was the first one to notice her and in seconds, she was surrounded, hugged, kissed, and thoroughly welcomed. Looking through the myriad of arms and faces, she found him, the one she had sought since arriving. He nodded to her through the crowd surrounding her. Ororo smiled and returned his nod.

Ororo woke before her alarm began its morning cycle. Several minutes later, she stood in the middle of the room zipping up the front of her sweat suit. Her hair tied back with a squeegee, felt heavy against the back of her neck. She opened her door just enough to peak out into the hallway. It was empty. She hurried down it to the stairway, to the main lobby and out one of the side doors. She needed to be out in the open.

Hr initial work had taken her to Nairobi, the capital city of the Republic of Kenya, where she had served as an interpreter and mediator with U.S. and Canadian drug companies. Toward the end of her stay, she had been in the field working one–on-one with women fighting the consequences of society’s expectations and the stigma associated with the illness. The experience had changed her in ways she'd never expected. As a woman of the new world, living in supposedly enlightened times, she understood change was a process with shifting dynamics. But the more she dealt with the realization that entire generations of people were passing from existence without leaving an individual legacy behind the more she saw time as an adversary pushing her toward a new purpose in life; to leave her own legacy. She put aside her feelings of guilt at leaving so much work unfinished and returned home with the knowledge that a willing voice could be heard from anywhere in the world. She was determined to keep the plight of the approximately 40 million people diagnosed with HIV/AIDS on the conscious of as many people as possible, she was equally determined to have a child.

Walking slowly she soaked up the changes that had taken place in her absence. She could tell from the scents in the air that the gardens had faired well in spite of the harsh weather Jean had described to her in her letters. An hour later, she decided some time in the gym would help ease the loneliness.

"Thought you'd have enough of walking." Logan stepped up to the treadmill.

"Been spying?" Ororo began to relax from Logan's sudden appearance.

"You've changed," he reached out tracing a line at the corner of her eye.

"We all change." Her smile held a hint of mystery.

"I missed you."

The smile faltered then returned.

"I missed you as well."

"Staying for a while?"

"We'll see."

"I owe you dinner. Up to a polish and fries?"

Ororo smiled again. "Guess I better do an extra mile."

Loud wolf whistles serenaded Logan down the hallway. He moved his shoulders beneath the dress jacket in an effort to get comfortable in the tailored garment. "Can it rug rats." He growled to the group gathered to watch their instructors preparing to depart. The state’s Parent/Teacher organization with the help of the New York theatre guild had provided tickets to a night of special performances by some of Broadway and Hollywood’s finest thespians in support of the organization's annual fundraiser. Logan's steps dragged as he walked toward Scott.

"You look good, Logan. The students think so too."

"Don't you start. Wait until class they’ll be thinking something entirely different. I have plans." Logan glanced back to the group of six, "What are they loitering in the lobby for anyway?"

"From what I heard they’re here to see what you are wearing."

Logan looked at Scott with suspicion. "Why are they ignoring you?"

Scott smiled. "I showed everyone my tux last week."

"Yeah, whatever." Logan stared down the hallway. "What’s taking them so long?"

Scott shrugged enjoying Logan’s discomfort. Tired of waiting Logan hiked a leg and hip on a delicate table decorating the entryway.

"Get your hip off that. It’s older than you are." Logan stood upright a smile softening his stern features at the person offering the mild rebuke. Ororo walked toward him, dressed in an ice blue gown that covered her in the front from neck to ankle, shoulder to fingertip. It wasn't until Logan stepped behind her to help her into her coat that he saw her fashion statement.

"Damn woman, you can't go out like that."

"I told you," Jean's voice whispered in Ororo’s mind. The two friend's eyes met and the men watching them grew nervous. It was well known that when the two female leaders of the X-Men were together in agreement or disagreement all others needed to tread carefully. The professor’s smile held a look of pride and approval. Jean, followed by the Professor, walked to where Scott stood holding out his arm. She linked her arm with his. They, along with the professor, walked out the front door leaving their peers staring at each other.

"I'm glad you like the dress." Ororo said, obviously misunderstanding his comment.

"Hot," one of the students called out.

"Most definitely," Ororo said. Her eyes followed the movement of her hands as they smoothed away imaginary wrinkles on his shoulders. "Logan, dear. If we stand here much longer we're going to miss our ride."

Logan grunted at her endearment. "No we won't, I've got influence." With Ororo's hand clasped tightly in his own, he led her outside. Inside the spacious limo, Jean motioned for Ororo to take the empty space next to her. Logan, looking slightly annoyed, sat across from the three.

As the driver navigated the driveway, Scott gave the grounds a final cursory look. As they passed the garage, he noticed that Logan’s latest amusement was not in its usual place. "Where is the toy?"

At the mention of his namesake, a wide smile deepened the creases surrounding Logan's mouth. The Yamaha four-wheeler was his current favorite of the three vehicles he often used. "The Wolverine is with the twins for an upgrade."

"Again," Scott quipped. "That machine doesn't have room for one more thing."

Logan gave him a raised eyebrow. "We'll see."

"Thank you so much for helping the planning committee. Tonight exceeded our expectations."

Charles Xavier patted the hand resting on his shoulder. "You're more than welcomed Rory."

Roryaah Stevens, chairperson of the event, beamed her brightest smile. The four hundred and some parents, volunteers and teachers had been welcomed, greeted, and celebrated by some of the finest actors, directors and producers of American motion pictures and theatre. Many people still lingered in the elegantly decorated ballroom enjoying quiet conversations and dancing.

Across the room, Logan sat at the table reserved for the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. His eyes locked on a couple in the crowd of dancers. During the evening after the dinner theatre, various speeches, and awards, Ororo had asked him several times to dance with her and he'd refused. Now he sat silently struggling with the jealously building inside him. Ororo was a beautiful woman on any day but tonight he'd felt such pride having her at his side as they'd entered the ballroom. However, the feeling had disappeared the moment Mr. Smooth, dark and handsome had stopped at their table. She had readily accepted his invitation to dance and they'd been plastered together for the last three songs. He felt on the losing end of a battle that he didn't even know he'd been fighting.

"They're still dancing?" Scott asked, as he and Jean returned to table.

"Your eyes work as well as mine." Logan snarled.

Jean watched Logan's face. She sensed the unease within him. It pleased her that her two favorite people were starting to recognize how deeply they cared for each other. Jean leaned over to whisper in Scott's ear. His glance shifted between Logan and the couple on dance floor as Jean outlined her plan. His attention was diverted as the professor approached the table with an elegantly dressed woman.

"Roryaah let me introduce to you a few of the excellent instructors at the institute. Scott and Jean Summers," Roryaah shook hands with the husband and wife team. Scott teaches mathematics and science. His wife Jean is our resident physician and also teaches the sciences.

"Logan Howlett." She nodded across the table in Logan's direction.

"And you teach?" Ms. Stevens asked innocently. Scott, Jean and the professor looked at Logan eager to hear his answer.

"Life experience," Logan answered dryly.

His companions smiled knowingly at each other. Logan had again managed to escape being labeled.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I was just inviting Charles to brunch at my home. It's a come one come all gathering."

The professor smiled at the look of annoyance on Logan's face.

Scott looked at Logan as well. "Thank you for the invitation but Jean and I have made other plans. But I'm sure my colleagues would be happy to join you."

"Speak for yourself," Logan murmured. The frown on his face became a small smile as his head leaned slightly to the left as if he was listening to something.

Seconds later Scott tensed as his body registered the change in air pressure. He gave a silent groan and his gaze was drawn to one wearing a definite gloat. Scott stood holding out his hand to Jean. "Let’s get in one last dance before the band goes home. Excuse us professor. Ms. Stevens it was nice meeting you." Putting his arm around Jean, Scott refused to look in Logan’s direction. On the dance floor, her head laying on his shoulder Jean Summers chastised her husband.

"One day you two adolescents will run out of things to one-up each other on. Even I knew there was a possibility of rain tonight."

"The odds were in my favor and I think Logan had help." Scott tightened his hold on Jean. "It doesn’t matter, not when I’m holding you like this." He murmured against her ear. Jean shivered at the pleasant vibration.

"Pay up," Logan demanded as he walked toward Summers. Scott looked down at Logan's hand then suspiciously at the woman sitting several tables away. The small lounge outside the hotel's banquet rooms contained several intimate groupings of chairs and tables, and subdued lighting.

Feeling someone staring at her, Ororo looked past the man sitting in the chair next to her, to find Logan and Scott walking in her direction.

"Your doing?" Scott motioned at the windows covered in rain.

Ororo laughed. "No, especially after spending four hours at the beautician."

"Pay up", Logan repeated.

"Later," Scott said, with relief in his voice, "here comes the professor."

Logan gave him an "I know where you live look," as Professor Xavier, Ms. Stevens and Jean joined them.

"Roryaah, this is Ororo Munroe. Ororo teaches history, civics, and humanities."

"Ms. Munroe." Ms. Stevens smiled at Ororo, who smiled back.

"The gentleman I don't know."

"Ororo introduce your new friend." Logan's voice held a tone of challenge that had the group giving him glances of surprise.

"No need," Ms. Stevens’ voice broke the tension.

The dark haired man standing bowed slightly at the waist.

"This is Professor Christopher Vixon. Chris is a representative of the Ugandan government here to help finalize plans for a teacher exchange program this summer."

"Pleased to meet you all." The crisp English accent brought smiles to the women's faces. There was a momentary silence as Vixon held out his hand to Logan, who stared at it for several seconds before accepting. Ororo released the breath she’d been holding as inconspicuously as possible but Logan looked over at her with a knowing look.

"Roryaah tonight has been filled with remarkable events." The politician turned slightly to look at Ororo then to the others. "Remember the woman I mentioned hoping to find during my stay."

"Yes." Ms. Stevens and everyone else looked at Ororo.

"I was telling Ms. Munroe earlier that the world is truly become smaller." Vixen’s handsome features became even handsomer by the dazzling smile he shined in Ororo's direction. "Ms. Munroe met Mayia, my sister while attending an AIDS conference. And now I can call and tell her, I’ve talked with the very beautiful, charming, and passionate American she was most impressed with."

The frown on Logan's face deepened as the Ugandan professor took Ororo’s hand in his, holding on to it.

"Professor Vixon, Ms. Munroe, I invited Charles and your colleagues to brunch at my home this morning. Please join us." Rory smiled at the two thinking they made an attractive couple and considering the amount of press that could be gained by their becoming involved. At a nudge from his wife, Scott spoke up while she moved to stand next to Ororo.

"Sorry Ms. Stevens, professors but the four of us have plans for the remainder of the weekend."

Logan looked warily at the three. Ororo stared back in total innocence. Her possible suitor looked disappointed as she withdrew her hand from his. With a small shrug of his shoulders and a quiet smile from her, his features cleared. "I have no other plans and I'd be happy to join you."

Professor Xavier sat quietly watching the goings-on between his four. All night he'd purposely blocked the emotional and physical signals emanating from his former students; now his peers in many ways.

Outside Scott and Logan waited patiently as the professor and his guests were seated comfortably in the limo. Scott looked back once as the large vehicle moved away from the curb. "He’s a big boy, if he needs us, he’ll let us know."

"It hasn’t been that long ago, Logan."

"He knows."

Scott rolled his eyes as Logan walked passed him and up the remaining stairs into the hotel lobby. He watched the limo pull away from the curb merge into the early morning traffic until the brake lights were indistinguishable from all the others. Foremost in his mind was the promise he had made the professor during their run-in with Magneto and Mystique. Not only had he vowed to protect his friends, but the professor also. Blowing out a deep breath, he walked to where Logan waited for him. Round one finished, let’s hope round two goes as well. He sent the thought ahead of him to his red headed spouse. Walking across the lobby next to Logan felt a little like a forced march.

Ororo sat facing away from Jean, her gaze on the floor to ceiling windows. Through the rain-covered glass, she could see people unprepared for the sudden rain shower scurrying about for cover. She could also see the reflection of the two men walking toward them.

"Go on say it. You've been wanting to all night."

Ororo's eyebrow rose slightly. "They are handsome men." Her voice held a casualness that did not deceive Jean.

"I agree, he is handsome." Ororo looked away from the window to her hands, playing with the material of her dress, refusing look at Jean.

Opening her purse Jean Grey-Summers searched for the envelope she placed inside before leaving the mansion. For several seconds she stared at the object in her hand then at her husband. Scott changed directions motioning for Logan to join him at the bar.

"This is from Scott and me," Jean held out a small manila colored envelope.

"What is that?" Ororo glanced from the object pointed in her direction to Jean's face.

"A friend of Scott’s lives in the city and sometimes, while he's out of town we stay at his place."

At Ororo’s blank look Jean continued. "Sometimes there's not enough privacy at the mansion."

"The mansion’s walls are not that thin."

The two women stared at each other. Jean remembered the last time she and Scott had been interrupted in the middle of their quality time. Ororo cheeks colored slightly as she remembered being the interruption during a very private moment between her friends. "I sympathize."

"You should." Their laughter echoed around them.

"So…" Jean paused for effect. "We, Scott and I, think this would be the perfect opportunity."

"I think so too. Logan and I can monitor until you two finish honeymooning."

"No…This is for you and Logan to spend some serious time alone."

"We don't..." Ororo glanced in the direction of where the two men sat. Rising from the chair, she walked away.

Jean swung her legs from across the arm of the chair where they’d been resting, grabbed the shoes she’d had in her lap, and followed her wayward friend. She was determined to make Ororo see what she and Scott thought was best. Jean followed across the now empty lobby. The two stood almost shoulder to shoulder near an over-sized granite table holding an impressive Elodie Holmes’ vase filled with fresh cut flowers. The night manger glanced up from his place behind the wall length counter. He gave the two women an admiring once over. Noting their similarities as well as their obvious differences, both strikingly beautiful, both tastefully dressed, both well within his age requirement for dating. One with skin the color of brown sugar, the other with skin like the first roses of spring.

He shivered and the hairs on his arms felt itchy against this shirt. He looked about the open area, down the closest corridor, which led to the pool and exercise rooms. He even walked to the end of the desk to look around the wall toward the elevators. There was no one around but the two women in the lobby. The music from the restaurant filtered out into the large area muting the voices of the two in quiet conversation. No reason for him to feel spooked he assured himself. Thinking he was being paranoid, he gave the area around him one more glance before sitting back at his desk.

Logan joined Scott back at the bar. "They’re still talking."

"Why didn’t you tell them to hurry up?"

"You’re delusional."

"You two have been dancing around each other for five years and it's getting old. You care for Logan and he cares for you."

"You've been snooping."

A draft of cool air from somewhere reminded Jean she was shoeless. While she stepped into her heels, she checked on Scott’s progress with Logan. It had taken a little persuading on her part to get Scott to agree to interfere with Logan and Ororo. Satisfied that he was not sabotaging her plan she went back to work on the obstinate woman next to her.

"Don't have to. The environment surrounding you two is so charged with unresolved sexual and emotional force it's painful." Jean turned to face Ororo who continued to stare out at the falling rain. With sibling familiarity, Jean knew that no one could force Ororo to act unless she chose to. What she hoped to do was reflect what those around her saw, a woman in love with her best friend. "I've watched with you...I've grieved with you through some of the worse times in our lives."

Ororo said nothing, continuing to stare out at the rain sparkling in the streetlights, but Jean could feel her indecision. Moving closer her voice grew softer, slightly compelling. "You are and have always been strong, self-confident. Afraid to let us see the best parts of you. The parts you think are liabilities." Jean put her arm around Ororo's rigid form. "I've lost count of the times you've gone to battle for Scott and I. You stood with me until I could see my truths...make my choices. Let me do the same for you."

Jean ignored the curious looks from a couple entering the lobby. "You've got to let yourself be happy. Logan makes you happy."

Ororo stepped out of Jean's embrace. She turned to face her friend, her eyes looking in the direction of the bar. "There's nothing wrong with my life. I respect him, enjoy his company. I’ve learned to depend upon him in battle, I need nothing more."

Yeah, right. Jean thought to herself as she and Ororo walked toward the bar. Half way across the lobby, she couldn't resist another push. "Let's compromise. You acknowledge that you're going to take the key and spend the weekend with Logan. And Scott and I won't expect him to return to the mansion with any more of a caveman swagger than he already has."

Ororo shook her head at Jean. "That's a compromise?"

"For someone."

Ororo followed a few seconds behind Jean as they entered the room. Her mind occupied with what was lately her constant companion, the conflict between what she wanted and what she would have to give up to get it. She was tired of thinking of reasons why becoming emotionally involved with Logan was an awful, terrible, horrific, and unhealthy idea. Or what losing his friendship would mean if they began a romance and it failed. She was tired of worrying about what he thought or felt toward her. Ororo was tired of ignoring what her body wanted.

Studying the three talking at the brightly lit bar she wished she could just do the ‘I Dream of Jeanie’ thing. Dip her feet in the water and if something went wrong, cross her arms, nod her head, and everything would be like before.

Instead, she sat down at a table, her legs crossed in front of her, waiting for the inescapable. Professor Xavier's words came to her. "To stand still is to stagnate. Being a mutant is about being a part of the changes taking place around us as well as within us. It’s either forward motion or silence." Reasonably comfortable with her decision, she took a deep breath and waited for the others. Jean turned from where she leaned near Scott to look in her direction. A few whispered words and the envelope passed between the three. Jean stopped at the table long enough to give Ororo another hug and push a mumbling Scott toward the entrance. "That should be us. Where’s my quality time? Ouch!"

Before she could say anything, Logan pushed the door key across the table toward her.

"You okay with this?"

Ororo's smiled at him. "You?"

"A weekend away from the institute with a beautiful woman. I'll survive."

"Such flattery," Ororo threw a thought a Jean. This is the person you want me to be happy with.

Logan and Ororo joined the crowd on the sidewalk that had thinned considerably due to the earlier rain showers, now a fine mist. Now, the earlier torrents had tapered to a fine mist. Logan's eyes moved over the people flowing about them. His senses told him they were relatively safe. His glance took in the woman beside him, her hair sprinkled with droplets of water. He chuckled before answering the question on her face with a shrug.

"We still didn't decide on what to do about necessities. All we have is a key and the wet clothes we're in."

"Let's get there first. See what is available and make our decision from there. Ororo looked at Logan surprised at the cheerfulness in his voice.

By the time they reached the apartment both were drenched and uneasy. Stepping across the threshold, her back ramrod straight, head held high, Ororo's heart pounded within its flesh and bone container. Behind her stood Logan in the open door, every line in his face becoming more pronounced. His nostrils flared as the scent of fear, desire and curiosity filled the air. She was close enough to touch but the moment did not seem right and the emotions too fragile. Logan's eyebrow raised in curiosity as she turned to face him.

"Close the door Logan, there's no running for either of us." Her voice sounded breathless, excited.

We definitely have ourselves a situation here. One step forward for him, one back for her, put him over the threshold and in contact with her. He pushed the door shut with one hand. In the twilight darkness, the only light for the room issued from the patio door and what was probably the hallway.

They stared at each other standing eye to eye, each refusing to step back. Ororo watched Logan's lips part and his breath touched hers. It tasted of the cigar he'd smoked during their walk from the restaurant and of the grilled salmon drenched in lemon he'd had for dinner. She smiled. This was what she wanted and needed. Someone who would stand with her, never backing down unless it was his decision. Someone strong, decisive, reckless. Someone definitely his own person. Her fingers reached out to wipe away raindrops caught in his sideburns.

"Once we start this, there are only two ways for it to end."

"Those being?" Logan waited, interested in her perspective.

"A long term relationship or a very brief explosive night of love making."

Logan moved his face forward until their lips touched. "Which one do you see happening?"

Ororo moved her face still closer accepting Logan's challenge. "I'm a long haul type of woman."

Logan stepped back. She had made the first move and before he let their bravado ruin their friendship, he wanted to be certain they both wanted what might happen next.

"Let's see what this place has to offer in the way of dry clothes." Walking past her Logan moved across the large living room, turning on lights as he went.

At the end of the hallway, they found the bedrooms separated by the main bathroom. Logan stopped at the first room; Ororo entered the second one. There was little in the closet that a woman could wear.

"Did you find anything other, than the remote?"

Logan pointed at the apparatus that took the dominate place in the room, a sixty-five inch HDTV.

"Besides the toy."

"Couple of sweat suits, some fruit of the looms," Logan pointed at a pile on the bed behind him. "And a shh..," at her look of frustration he cut off the remainder of the word. "A load of audio and video equipment. Man has taste." Logan handed her several DVD cases. Ororo read the titles aloud.

"Jason X, Donnie Darko, Frailty. Sick mind, both of you."

"Guess that means I'll be watching these alone."

"It does."

"Poor me." Ororo chuckled as she handed him back the cases and picked up several pieces of clothing. "This will have to do until we can go shopping tomorrow."

"Do what?" Logan stuttered.

"I don't know about you, but I need clean underwear and I don't intend to spend all weekend in this dress." She folded the pieces of clothing over her arm.

"I don't intend to be dragged all over New York either," Logan mumbled.

Ororo sat on the bed next to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I don't plan on dragging you anywhere." Ororo watched the tiny hairs near his ear move from her breath. She tried not to smile as he trembled. Knowing she was playing on dangerous ground she quickly moved away. "I've got dibs on the bathroom."

Logan's voice followed her. "Don't think I don't know what just happened. I've got my own plan for you Ms. Munroe. I'm calling Jean and the Boy Scout; they can bring us something to wear."

Ororo stuck her head out the door. "I thought this weekend was just us."

"Supposedly."

"Why the company?"

Logan stood in the doorway leaning against the door facing. "Because we're on dangerous ground here. You're not the only one who wants ‘happily ever after’."

The two stood quietly assessing, coming to terms.

"Tell her not to forget my tennis shoes."

Logan joined Ororo on the sectional style sofa. She had folded herself in a corner, giving herself a constant view of the city outside the patio doors. Logan still held the thick terry cloth towel from his shower. He draped it over his head and rubbed at his still wet hair, "Hungry?"

"No."

"You?"

"Somewhat." Quiet grew between them.

A drop of water dislodged by the towel hit Ororo near her eye.

"You're trying to blind me."

"Shat?" Logan asked; towel covered head pointed in her direction.

"Let me do that." Ororo scooted on her knees until she was behind him. Her hands replaced his and she rubbed his hair with the thick towel.

"A hair dryer would be faster," she said continuing her gentle ministrations.

"Yeah, but I'd miss out on the personal service." Logan leaned back against her. Ororo pushed his head forward, forcing him to lean forward slightly. She worked steadily until she felt the moist towel was defeating her purpose. Laying it aside, she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Where's your comb?"

"Mansion."

"You don't carry one?"

"Got better things to do with my pockets."

"Mind if I use mine? There are a few tangles here."

"Don't care."

Logan shivered as cool air replaced Ororo's body heat. She was back in moments, her hips perched on the back of the sectional's generously padded header.

"What is the plan for this weekend?"

"Besides not being dragged around for hours, lugging packages and getting my feet stepped on?"

"Ow," Logan raised his hand to cup the ear Ororo had just thumped.

"Yes, besides that."

"I honestly don't know."

Ororo looked to her left, out at the dark forms sparkling with lights. The comb in her hand rested lightly on Logan's shoulder. His head rested against her stomach, his arms relaxed on her thighs.

"Okay, first things first. Which room do you want?"

"That's already been decided." Logan's hands wrapped around her ankles, fingertips testing skin and bone. His head lying against her stomach moved as she laughed. "I forget, sixty-four..."

"Sixty-five."

"I stand corrected...sixty-five inch wall to wall entertainment."

"Bright girl."

Hair dry and reasonably combed, Ororo pushed Logan forward so that she could get off the sofa. "Good night Logan."

Logan sat up in the plush recliner listening to the sound. It was the first time he'd ever heard it. Moving forward he pushed down on the footrest until his bare feet touched the carpet. He understood the need to face ones’ demons in the grayness before day. Nevertheless, facing them alone was not what he wanted for himself or anyone he loved.

He thought the word again, tasted the fear and longing it caused and found he was ready for the challenge.

He walked to her, standing near without touching her.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't, I..."

"When I walked by your eyes were closed."

Logan looked amused. "I was listening with my eyes closed."

"Yeah," Ororo snorted, wiping at the tears on her face. "What are we doing here?" She asked.

"Falling in love," Logan answered in a whisper.

"Yep, seems like we do have a plan." Ororo replied as she turned to face him.

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