Two Sides Of The Same Coin, by stormfreak Chapter Five: The Show’s In Town Richmond Hill –Presidential Suite 311 Montego Bay, Jamaica Victor knew Ororo’s shower routine by heart. And even in paradise, she was going to follow it. First, it was the Hot Shower. His fiancée would stand under a shower with water to a ridiculous degree. She would take a scrub brush – something with very, VERY stiff bristles – and scrub her body over and over and over and over until 1) she ran out of soap, 2) she ran out of hot water or 3) her skin began to crack and bleed. Next came the Warm Showers, done mainly to rinse the dead skin and soap and blood off her body. The Warm Shower was the transition point between hatred (Hot Shower) and shame (Cold Shower). The Warm Shower was for reflection, a long series of what-could-I-have-done, mixed in with was-I-sending-out-the-wrong-signals and occasionally combined with other equally ridiculous thoughts. Finally, the Cold Showers. At this point, Ororo would just stand underneath the faucet, letting the cold water soothe her skin. This was also the point where she could choke back her sobs. It had stunned Victor the first time he noticed it – the first time he noticed that Ororo’s showers could go on for well over an hour and seemed to use an entire bottle of body shampoo. Normally, Ororo wouldn’t even use “artificial” water – this was a woman who could create rain clouds, after all. Until the rape, only the purest of water had ever touched her skin. But now, it was standing underneath a spigot as the minutes dragged by and the water did the damage to her skin. Hot, Warm, Cold. Every day. Not this time, not in paradise, and not 24 hours before their wedding. The second the steam began to creep from underneath the crack under the door, Victor tore the door down. Steam rolled in such thick clouds that he could barely see. “’Ro!” he yelled, reaching into the shower. Big mistake. Big, big mistake. The water scalded his left arm, causing him to howl in pain. Still, he managed to grab Ororo’s wrist. “Victor! What are you-“ “Come here!” Victor dragged his fiancée out the shower, picking up her cumbersome body with ease. The burns were already beginning to show on her lovely chocolate skin – deep and purple and ugly-looking. Damn it. Damn it all. “Victor, stop it!” Ororo tried to wrench herself from Victor’s grip, but he wouldn’t relent. “None of this anymore,” he growled. “You’re not gonna do this anymore.” “Victor, let go!” Ororo cried. “One shower is enough,” Victor spat. “And what the hell do you need water that hot for?” He thrust out his arm. “If you were doing this to someone else insteada yourself, you’d be arrested!” “I hate you!” Ororo suddenly screamed. Out of nowhere, she freed her wrists and began to pound her fists against Victor’s chest. “Let me up – I hate you!” Victor chose to chalk that outburst to pregnancy hormones. Victor crossed his arms, allowing his weight to hold Ororo down. Just so she could see that not only was this fight not hurting him in the least, it was completely futile. He wasn’t going to let her back into a shower just to scald her skin. He stared down at her, completely naked and rather miserable-looking. “Please don’t do that,” she whispered out of nowhere. “What?” Victor didn’t move. “Don’t….look at me like that. They did that, they…” Ororo flicked a lock of hair from her face, then bit her lower lip. “Go on, I’m listening.” This was the first time Ororo had ever mentioned even a slight detail of what happened that night. Oh sure, he read the police report and got Jason Davis’ fucked up POV. But Ororo had never said a word and if she was willing to actually speak on it, God knew that Victor wasn’t going dissuade her. Even if it was the day before their wedding. “They…they just stood over and they stared at me okay?!” Ororo half-yelled. “They stared at me and I tried to look up but one of them pissed in my eyes so I couldn’t see – just don’t do that, okay? Is it too much to ask for you not to stare at me like I’m your fucking property!?” She was his fucking property, but something told Victor not to press that. He bent low to kiss her, half to calm her down and half to get her to shut the fuck up. It worked. Ororo moaned into his mouth, then reached around his neck, tears streaming down her face as she kissed him hungrily. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “I don’t hate you – I love you, Victor…” Ororo’s tears flowed freely as she laid her head on his chest, squeezing his hands tightly. He lay there for a long time, unable to say anything comforting. He let her go long enough to fumble around in his suitcase and bring out a tube of lotion. It wasn’t her kind – nothing fancy or soothing or scented. A man’s lotion, made for one thing – to relieve chapped skin. But it was all he had. He worked as softly as he could, rubbing the cool lotion on Ororo’s burns while she continued to cry. Mood swings, relapses, moments of guilt, as long as she was alive…Victor wondered if he was handling this right. Shit, he knew he was handling it wrong. He was supposed to say something to make her feel okay, but he was stuck, unknowing of what to do. Hell, the men responsible for this outburst were no longer alive, courtesy of Victor Creed, Homicidal Artist. But he knew that little piece of information wouldn’t give Ororo a warm and fuzzy feeling. What he didn’t know was that just holding Ororo was making her feel better, holding her and stroking her hair. That was what was best – not trying to choke out some corny feel-good lines about her being beautiful. He was doing right. And that’s why, come tomorrow, she was going to be his wife. If she had wanted smooth words and all that bullshit, she would’ve married Logan. * Relax Resort, Room 31 Montego Bay, Jamaica The women on the island were wonderful. Logan knew – he felt as if he had fucked every woman in Jamaica in twelve short hours. Hell, three of them were in his bed right now. Arie, Ol’ Girl and Whatsherface. The one with the big titties. Logan rolled his eyes. These hoes had cost him a pretty penny, but they would do for now. What the hell was the use? He knew what he had come for, what he intended to leave the island with. Too bad Ororo wanted to pull a Houdini number and not let anyone know which hotel she was staying in. Logan could’ve sniffed it out, but who cared? It’s not like he didn’t know where she was going to be tomorrow. Besides, Ol’ Girl’s lips on his balls felt too nice right about now. Tomorrow. Tomorrow Logan was going wedding crashing. * Victor lay awake in his suite, alone. Jean had taken Ororo from him, saying something about tradition and blah, blah, blah. Just a sweet way of saying that they were going to get plastered. The next time Victor would see Ororo, she would be in a white dress and walking down the aisle. But that meant he didn’t have her tonight to have and to hold. Of course, he was supposed to be out having some bachelor party. But that required real friends. He was sure the X-Men were out somewhere – the younger ones acting a damned fool somewhere and Scott and the Prof were probably having a beer. They had a father-son bond that, in Victor’s drunkest hour, he could admit to be envious of. And although the two of them were nice to this former member of the Brotherhood and current bad ass, Victor still felt rather uncomfortable around them both, He could smell the distrust on Scott, and the Prof…well, he didn’t want that guy in his mind with Victor’s mental pictures of Charles’ precious little goddess face down and ass up. He missed her. It was damned stupid. Hell, she probably wasn’t more than a few rooms down from his. He could easily go sniff her out, demand she come to bed, but for what? To prove what a pussy he really was? Fuck this bullshit. I can sleep without her. Victor rummaged around the room until he found his shirt. Ororo had taken to wearing it to bed the last few nights because it was big and roomy. He put it on, inhaling her scent. It was soft and smelled like her. Yeah. I’ll do just fine. * Richmond Hill – Presidential Suite 461 8:41 a.m. If that door opens and shuts one more time…Ororo took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. Honestly, it seemed as if every woman in the bridal party wanted to see her a hundred times before the ceremony. It was going to be a very small wedding. Ororo didn’t consider herself to have very many friends, and Victor knew little to no one who could afford a flight out to Jamaica. So her side included Jean, her maid of honor, and Rogue Jubilee and Kitty, her bridesmaids. Victor had Professor Xavier (of all people) as his best man, and Bobby, St. John and Scott as groomsmen. Remy was just there because Ororo couldn’t resist the young man’s smile as he pleaded for a trip to Jamaica. Slam! It was Rogue. “Ya look pretty, Miss Munroe,” she said slowly. She had a weird look on her face. The fact that she had a deep dislike for Victor hadn’t faded over the months, and watching her favorite teacher marry him was a little upsetting, to say the least. Still, she came. “Thank you,” Ororo said flatly. Her headache was gigantic. “Marie, would you please tell everyone that I am going to take a small nap before the ceremony?” “Yes, m’aam,” Rogue disappeared. “Hey! Shut t’hell up down there! Miss Munroe’s tryin’ t’sleep!” Ororo smiled as she shut her eyes. Sometimes that kid was just too simple. “Ro!” Ororo sat up, having just drifted off to sleep. Her headache, which was beginning to subside, was now in full force. “Jean, didn’t you hear Marie’s hog bellow? I am trying to sleep.” “Logan’s here to see you,” Jean said slowly. “Should…should I let him in?” Shit. I mean, DAMN! “Sure.” Ororo sat up in her bed and stretched lightly. Logan walked in the room and shut the door behind him. “’Ey, darlin’,” he said softly. “Hi, Logan,” Ororo responded flatly. “Fancy seeing you here. Jamaica’s a big island, you know.” “You should’ve known I was coming.” “Well, at least you didn’t do anything corny like stopping the wedding when the preacher says ‘speak now or forever hold your peace,” Ororo countered. “Hey, this ain’t no damn Volkswagen commercial,” Logan scoffed. He walked over to Ororo and sat on her bed. “How’s my girl?” he asked wistfully, rubbing her giant belly. “Kicking,” Ororo laughed lightly. “Logan, I hope you consider joint custody when she is born.” Logan shook his head. “I toldja, ‘Ro, ya ain’t marryin’ Victor Creed. Period.” “Oh really?” Ororo said, laughing. “Logan does the phrase ‘too little, too late’ mean a damned thing to you? “Nope.” Logan eyed Ororo lustily. “I always get what I want.” “Funny - Victor said the same thing.” Ororo rolled her eyes. “You both can’t win. And the decision is not yours to make. Get out.” Logan didn’t move. In fact, he stretched his body to where he was lying parallel to Ororo. “Did you hear me? Get out!” “Throw me out,” Logan smirked. “You want me out so bad, throw me out.” Ororo had no reply. “Didn’t think so,” Logan replied and pulled Ororo to him in an embrace, pressing his lips against hers. Without warning, a familiar “snikt” sound rang in the air, and Ororo felt her slip being pulled off her body. “Logan-“ she gasped as her breasts met his warm fingertips, the very touch of his hands making her mind whirl as their tongues sought each other out hungrily. This can’t be happening. Goddess, I am getting married in two hours! Logan’s rough hands felt like heaven against her smooth skin. He was lost in worshipping her, paying tribute to the body that housed his firstborn. He rolled her on her side, lightly tracing down the center of her ass to her opening, stroking the creamy flesh with his callused fingers. Logan buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. For the first time in months, there was no Victor, just Ororo and the scent of sandalwood filling his lungs and dizzying his mind. Rubbing his dick against her skin, he groaned loudly and planted passion marks down the nape of her neck, all the while tracing small circles around her throbbing clit. “You smell so good,” he whispered in her ear, using his fingers to spread her feminine flesh apart. The moment he entered her, Ororo cried out and flung her arm out, catching the back of Logan’s head. She pushed his face to hers, crushing his lips in the wildest, wettest kiss she’d experienced in months. Her other arm was free, and Logan grabbed her hands, interlacing their fingers together and squeezed. “Please…” she gasped. “Please, Logan…” she gasped as he pulled his cock out of her. Teasing her. Fucking with her mind. “Say it,” he murmured in her ear. “Tell me what you want.” He entered her again, very slowly and teasingly. “I want…” What did she want? It was hard to think. “I want you to make love to me, Logan.” She heard him chuckle deep in his throat. “Is that what you really want?” He pulled out again, and Ororo began to cry softly. “No…” “Then say it.” Ororo tilted her head back, staring into his glittering gray eyes. “I want you to fuck me, Logan.” He growled, pushing her head forward and sliding inside her with one fluid movement. Ororo cried out, then bit her lower lip. Logan’s hands roamed from her milk-full breasts to her ample hips, gripping them tightly as he brought her soft moaning to a fevered pitch. “’Ro, oh God,” he moaned into her hair, pushing inside her body to the hilt. “I’m sorry for this…I’m so sorry…I can’t even promise I’ll marry you, but he can’t have you and my baby – he just can’t…” Logan squeezed Ororo’s ample ass as he continued to stroke deep inside of her, his cock stroking her swollen clit over and over. “He can’t have you…” “Logan, oh goddess!” Ororo gasped. She fought the tears threatening to fall from her face. Logan threw a muscular thigh over Ororo’s waist, giving him room to plunge deeper into her pulsating walls. He filled her, made her whole and complete and oh, goddess, this wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt in all her life. Ororo screamed, no longer caring who heard her (and she knew they heard her; hell, they hadn’t left the door). Her screaming drove Logan to let out a howl, then he shuddered and finally exploded, pressing the side of his face against Ororo’s bare shoulder.  He rolled her to where he was facing her, then buried his face in her chest and began to suck her breasts dry. Ororo shuddered deeply, tangling her fingers through his already-wild hair. This was all insane – there was no way she could marry Victor now, now with the marks on her neck. Not unless she had a death wish. But it didn’t matter. She was Logan’s girl now. * The Church of Saint Vincent - Montego Bay, Jamaica 11:00 a.m. Ororo stood at the back of the church, groggy from her dream. She had opted to walk down the aisle with no assistance, despite being pregnant. “I am a grown woman and no one will be giving me away,” she has scoffed at the idea. Now she was wondering if that was a bad idea. Ororo was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. She felt as if something was choking the life out of her, and it wasn’t just being eight months pregnant. Her dream. What the hell kind of dream was that to have the morning of your wedding? The week before, sure. Even the night before. But two hours prior? I’m going to be sick. Her baby was kicking up a storm, almost as if she was trying to have a say in the matter. Her bridesmaids, as well as her maid of honor, looked poised, ready, but not happy. Not happy the way they should be happy for a woman getting married… I’m going to throw up. “Need a little help, chere?” Remy was suddenly on her arm. “Jus’ walk slow an’ take deep breaths.” “What are you doing?” Ororo asked, albeit grateful that he was there. “Tryin’ t’keep you from fallin’. Dat would be a nasty lump on dat pretty head, Miss Munroe.” Remy smiled seductively. “Y’know, I always imagined you an’ me like dis, all close and cuddly. Of course,” he added wickedly, “we weren’t in a church.” “Stop that!” Ororo hissed. But she was smiling. Damn this Cajun. Only Remy LeBeau would have the guts to flirt with a woman who was minutes away from getting married. Perhaps that’s why Ororo loved his so much. Victor stood at the front of the church, the Professor sitting next to him. She felt Victor’s eyes rake her body, in its simple yet elegant white dress. “You look beautiful,” Victor said. Not lovingly or warmly or anything like that, just stating a fact. But it made Ororo blush nonetheless. “Thank you,” she whispered. I’m going to be ill. “Who gives this bride away?” the short preacher with a thick accent asked. “Why, dat would be me!” Remy slipped his arms around Ororo, dipping her low and kissing her full in the mouth, causing the X-Men to gasp and give good-natured cheers. “Jus’ how I dreamed it would be,” he winked, patting her lightly on her ass as he handed her to Victor. Out of nowhere, Victor’s arm shot out and grabbed Remy by the collar. He brought Remy very close to him and growled something in his ear that made the young man turn very pale. Remy looked up into Victor’s ice-cold eyes, and all but ran to his seat. His fifteen minutes of fame were up. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered her today…” the preacher began to talk, and Ororo immediately tuned him out. Why Victor had insisted on a Christian wedding was beyond her. It was all meaningless. Ororo focused her attention on her groom. He wasn’t a handsome man, but there was something solid and sturdy about Victor that Ororo had always liked. He chose to look at her then, and his gaze was so intense that Ororo felt her stomach churn. If he could read my mind…see my thoughts…he would kill me. Now, for reasons no one was really sure of, when the preacher said, “…speak now or forever hold your peace,” everyone turned to the back of the church. After all, this was the wedding of an X-Woman and it wouldn’t be complete without a heaping slice of drama. Logan stood at the back of the church, looking ready to deliver. At that exact moment, Ororo simply left her body as her wedding turned into a soap opera. Cue the gasps and murmurs – why? Didn’t every-damn-body church see this one coming from a million miles away? Apparently not. Victor, standing in the spot of the groom on holy ground, said the only appropriate thing he could think of: “What the fuck!?” “Logan!” Rogue shrieked happily. Way too happily. In a thank-God-you-made-it-because-I-knew-all-along-you-were-coming kind of happy. “Logan, what are you doing?” Professor Xavier asked, genuinely confused. “You are interrupting my daughter’s wedding. Please sit down.” “I can’t do that, Chuck.” Cue for gasps from the audience. Ororo watched this heavily pregnant bride with her daughter’s father on one side and her groom on the other with amusement. Hey, slightly predictable, but what a show! Too bad she was the star. “Logan,” Charles tried again, clearly aggravated this time. “Please, sit down so we can continue the ceremony.” Geez, this man was the most powerful telepath in the world and the man didn’t have a c-l-u-e. “I’m sorry, Prof, but I love her.” I love her…Back to reality. Fast. Ororo’s jaw dropped. “What?” she managed to whisper.  No, impossible. He only wants what he can’t have, as usual…he’s never once said he loved me… “Go away, dumb ass!” Victor roared, his arm tight around Ororo’s waist. “She’s mine now, don’t you fuckin’ get it? You blew it, Douche Bag! You had yer shot an’ ya fuckin’ blew it.” “I won’t let her leave with you. She’s havin’ my baby,” Logan growled. More gasps and cries of astonishment from the lovely studio audience, Jean being the loudest. “I know that,” Victor spat back. Logan paused. Clearly Ororo’s early confession was not a part of the plan. “Logan, I-“ Ororo turned to face him, and the look in his eyes stopped her cold. Oh, my God, it’s fear. Fear of rejection. He really…oh, Logan, don’t do this to me, not now! “Ororo,” Logan’s voice was grated, full of roughness, but the meaning was clear as he dropped to both his knees. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said, everything I didn’t mean. But I can’t let you do this.” A small, velvet box. No, no, this isn’t happening…not today, of all days. Goddess, Logan, don’t do this, don’t act so un-Logan like, don’t make me fall in love with you right here… “Ororo,” Logan’s voice was strong and confident, “Will you marry me?” Ororo opened her mouth, but no words came out. “Baby, please…” Logan half-begged. Ororo felt her mind in a daze. The ring was gorgeous, ten times bigger than the one Victor had put on her finger. Logan must’ve saved up for years to buy that ring…or killed someone for it… “She ain’t marryin’ you, Logan,” Victor warned. Damn, reality was a bitch! “I won’t hear it from anyone but her,” Logan shot back, still on the ground. Seconds later, Ororo joined him. * “’Ro? Ororo?” Snap, snap. “Hey, she’s coming around!” A cool cloth against her forehead. It felt so damned good. It wasn’t supposed to be like this…not this confusing…I love Victor! But Logan… Everyone was at the door, wanting to know how Ororo was. Was she in labor? Was she alive? How was her head? Jean poked her head outside the door. “Go away…go away, dammit!” Slam. That damned door. Then silence. Finally: “What the hell was that, Ororo?” More shock than anger. “Jean, I really don’t want to hear it right now.” “Well it is true? You’re having his baby? You never told me! Hell, I never even knew you two were together!” “We weren’t.” Ororo rubbed her belly. “One night stand. I didn’t know until you told me about being eight months pregnant, as opposed to six…” “Ororo, what are you going to do? Logan is in love with you!” “So the hell what, Jean?” Ororo sat up, despite her pounding head. “Maybe that would thrill you, Jean but not me!”  Jean winced. “Sorry,” she added softly. The last person she wanted to harm right now was her best friend. Jean sighed. “Ororo, this is simpler than it sounds, sweetheart.” She kicked off her heels and sat down. “Who…do…you…love?” Ororo hugged her stomach. “This time yesterday, I would’ve said Victor without thinking.” “And today?” “I don’t know!” Ororo wailed. “I think you do know,” Jean prompted gently. “I think we both do.” Slam. “Welll, kiss my dead mammy’s ass, Ororo! When did the damned show come to town? I didn’t see any posters!” “Get out!” Jean yelled. “I’m not going anywhere until I say this, Red,” Victor snapped. “So ya better sit down and shut the fuck up.” Jean’s jaw dropped, but her good sense took over and she said nothing. Victor’s eyes were blazing, and in all her life, Ororo had never seen Victor this angry. “Look, Windrider,” he began through a clenched jaw.  “I ain’t about to stand around for hours while you sit on your high horse deciding if I’m good enough for you. Yer precious baby’s daddy is here, fine. He crashes the wedding, cool. He wants to pull the Hope Diamond out his ass and ask for you, great. I ain’t gonna gut his ass. I ain’t gonna eat his sack lunch for that. But you can kiss my white ass, Ororo, if you think I’m gonna act any more of a fool than I have for you, or jump through even more hoops.” He pointed a finger at his fiancée. “I told ya the night I put that ring on your finger that I wasn’t goin’ in on it half-assed, Looks t’me like you are. An’ as far as I’m concerned, if you want the runt, you can have him. But I ain’t beggin’ for what should already be mine. What you told me was mine.” He whipped around and left as quickly as he came. Slam. “He’s not going anywhere, Ororo,” Jean said tiredly. “I know.” A tiny smile curved across Ororo’s face, one that Jean noticed. “I’m glad you find this so funny!” Ororo began to chuckle. She couldn’t help it. “He came all the way down here…” “Who, Victor?” Jean asked, growing a little confused. “Logan. He flew all the way here just to stop me…” Now Ororo was laughing. “’Ro, are you okay?” Jean stood up, concerned. “He flew all the way here with the most beautiful ring on God’s earth…” Tears streamed from Ororo’s cheeks, laughter tears while a burden was lifted from her heart.  “And he wants me to be his wife. This is a show, Jean - two men fighting on my wedding day…this is more up your alley than mine,” she managed to say between gasps of laughter. “What’s going on?” Jubilee asked as she came into the room. Slam. “’Ro’s lost her damned mind,” Jean barked. “No. No, I’ve found it!” Ororo stood up, her eyes shining. “I’ve found my mind.” Jubilee looked puzzled. Jean did a quick mind scan and raised her eyebrows, then pursed her lips. “’Ro, are you sure?” “I’m positive,” Ororo cried, twirling around in a circle. “I’ve never been more sure.” “Well…should I escort the unlucky loser to his respective motorcycle?” “No.” Ororo picked up her bridal bouquet, determination and love making her face shine. “He claims to love me, he can let me go. And since he seems to enjoy the ‘all bullshit aside’ facet of me, I’ll tell him myself.” (epilogue coming soon)