ALL MY LIFE
PART FIVE
(NOTE: Writing fight
scenes is not exactly my strong point, so sorry if it’s kinda choppy. Hey, I
tried!)
10 PM.
He sat alone in the
darkness. He had not moved in hours, not since his mother left.
‘No one would blame you
for backing out now. We’ve only been together a month. Less than that! Just
have to make a few inquiries every now and again, and I can bow out gracefully.
I can get on with my life. . . Yeah right. Tell me another.’
This self-dialogue had been
going on since Rafe Wallace had hung up the phone. He had been expecting a call
from Ororo Monroe; instead it was her best Jean Summers.
His mother who had stopped
by upon finding he had left work early that day, watched him silently throughout
the conversation. She remained just as still when he’d hung up the phone and
walked over to the balcony doors. He said nothing for several minutes.
"Ororo— Storm has been
injured. It’s bad. Very bad."
"What happened?"
"Jean, uh, that's one
of her teammates, she didn’t say. She just though I might want to know why
Oro—why she hadn’t contacted me."
The tone in Jean’s voice
had indicated to him that nothing was expected on his part, which is what he
wanted to hear. At least, he thought it was. If he truly wanted to be free to
back away from an emotionally dangerous relationship, why was he still sitting
there, some eight hours later, in the dark, nothing but Ororo’s smile in his
mind.
‘Damn.’ He thought, as his hours of conflict
came to one inevitable conclusion. He was reminded of a question he had asked
his mother earlier, and had just asked of himself. As he picked up his jacket,
the answer repeated itself again and again in his mind, without the slightest
trace of doubt.
‘She is worth
it.’
* * * * *
Jean Grey-Summers, also
known as Phoenix, opened the door and was too tired and upset to bother hiding
her surprise.
"Hello, Jean."
"Rafe?"
"May I come in? I know
it’s late."
"No— I mean, yes, come
in. It’s not too late." She stood aside and he entered.
"I. . . we, weren’t
really—expecting you. . . here."
"Neither was I. But. .
." He shook his head, then attempted a weak smile. "She’s got that effect
on people."
Jean smiled in kind.
"I know what you mean."
"Can I see her."
". . . If you really
want to— I suppose for a few minutes it would be okay. But it’s really Hank’s
decision.”
"How is she?"
Jean sighed. "Hank and
Celia had to operate. She’s stabilized, slightly. She’s not breathing on her
own."
"What happened."
He said in a voice just above a whisper. Jean was leading him down to the med.
lab.
"Rafe. . . the details
aren’t really what’s important." She had a pained expression on her face,
which indicated to him that the details were too painful for her to repeat at
this time. "It was a bad battle, we sustained a lot of injuries. Storm,
before she. . . was hurt, she gave us the advantage we needed to get out
alive."
The two arrived at the main
lab door. Jean held up a finger reminding him they needed to be quiet. Inside,
Dr. Henry McCoy was tending to a bedridden X-Man that was not Storm. Sam
Guthrie lay sleeping under sedative, as Hank checked his vital signs. His right
arm was in a metallic type of cast that nearly reached the shoulder and there
was a large bandage on the left side of his forehead.
"Hank?" She said
in a whisper.
"Yes, Jean?" He
answered quietly, without looking up.
"Rafe would like to
know if he could see Storm."
At the mention of his name,
Hank spun around to see the man who was standing behind Jean.
"Rafe? Um, yes, of
course you can see her. I believe Logan is all ready in there. But she needs
her rest, so quiet conduct would be appreciated."
Rafe nodded. "How’s
Sam?"
"Oh, this fellow farm
boy? He’ll be fine. But he must learn that it is best if his bones remain in
one piece, rather than of three. I’ll be checking in on Ororo, in a little
while."
A few moments later, Rafe
and Jean were outside the private intensive care room Storm occupied.
"You can go on in. I
want to check on some of the others."
"Others?"
"Elizabeth and Bobby,
they’re down here too." Jean rubbed her temple.
"Looks like you didn’t
get away scot-free yourself."
"Nothing a pound or
two of Mytol wouldn’t help. I’ll see you later Rafe."
He waited a few moments
before entering, building up a defensive wall.
It didn’t help.
The automatic doors slid
open to reveal a bed engulfed in wires and tubes, surrounded by monitors.
In the center of that mess
was the Ororo, at least, in the most basic of form.
This was not the strong
vibrant woman he knew. The woman in the bed looked small and weak. Her colour
was dull and there were dark circles around her eyes. There was a mask of sorts
covering her nose and mouth, its patterned rush of air confirming that she was
not breathing on her own. The shallow artificial breath was the only indication
of movement, the quiet beep of the heart monitor, the only indication of life.
‘Too many wires. And
they’re too close to her. She wouldn’t like this. It’s too crowded. Oh, god,
Arashi.’
"She’s tough."
The rough voice surprised
him. Logan was leaning back on a chair to the right of the doorway.
"She’s tough. She’ll
pull through this." Logan looked up at Rafe. "You gonna stand there
in that doorway all night?"
Rafe hadn’t realized. The
sensors were keeping the door open as he stood there. He stepped forward and
they closed.
"Was wonderin’ when
you’d show."
"How did you that I
would."
"Just knew."
"I didn’t. What does
that say?"
"That you’re
human."
Rafe walked over to the
bed. The closer he came, the worse she looked. At her side, he could see the
numerous cuts and bruises on her face and hands, the worst of which were
heavily bandaged.
He placed his hands on the
rail.
"What happened?"
He whispered, though he knew Wolverine could hear him. "Who did
this to her? Jean couldn’t tell me." He turned to face Logan. "But
you can."
Logan set the chair back on
all fours. "You sure you wanna know. ‘Cause I’ll give it to you straight;
I don’t hold punches."
"I need to know."
Logan stood and motioned to
the door with his head. "C’mon. She don’t need to hear this."
Rafe looked at Ororo once
more then followed Wolverine to the waiting area.
"You ever hear of the
Marauders?"
"Barely."
"Bad as they come. Got
a tip they were ready t’stir up some trouble, so we went to check it out."
Wolverine took a cigar out of his shirt pocket and put it in his mouth without
lighting it. "Don’t feel like hearing one of Hank’s speeches right
now." He said noticing Rafe’s odd look. He then continued. "Shoulda
known it was a set up from their location. They were hiding out in the old
Morlock tunnels." Rafe nodded, Ororo had told him what had happened to the
Morlocks, but hadn’t given many details as to their attackers.
"Storm and Rogue were
flyin’ ahead of us when they dropped, fell right outta the air. We were in a
neutralizing field, no powers --had to change the game plan. We all train to
fight with and without our powers, but some of us are just a little better at
the hand to hand stuff, so we were goin’ in first. Gambit, Psylock, Storm and
me. The lady might not look much like a scrapper, but when you grow up on the
streets, you either get good at it, or you die." He chewed on the end of
his cigar for a moment.
"We reached joint
where the tunnel split into four, and five Marauders jumped us, complete with
powers. They got these belts on that neutralize the neutralizer; see, Marauders
don’t exactly like to play fair.
"Anyway, I’d say we
were doin’ pretty good, considering. Then four more that we’ve never seen
before show up. The rest of the team was involved by this time but it didn’t
really make that much of a difference. We were getting’ out asses kicked.
"That’s when things
got worse. Be easy for me t’say that if I had my powers, I woulda smelled ’im
b’fore it was too late. Truth is, I shoulda known he was there just from habit.
‘Was scrappin’ with one o the new kids, think he called himself Turbine, and I
hear this laugh that--"
Logan shook his head, took
the cigar out of his mouth, looked at it, then put it back between his teeth.
"Sabretooth. Victor
Creed. He was holdin’ Storm up by the neck, could see she couldn’t breath.
"This belong to
anyone?" he asks. "Mine now."
Then he— slashes her a
bunch o times with his other hand. No. That ain’t right. More like he tried to
gut her."
Rafe winced at this but
said nothing.
"That Turbine kid was
on me-- or around me I guess-- again. Distracted me a minute.
"Bobby was closest to
Storm and tried to help. That’s why he’s down here now.
"They had us over a
barrel. We try to move on Creed, he snaps her neck, she was all ready turnin’
blue. We do nothin’ and she bleeds to death.
"Lucky for her,
leopards don’t change their spots. Creed didn’t just want a surrender, he
wanted t’fight.
"When he thought she
was done for, he tossed ‘Ro her aside. That was his next mistake. He underestimated
Storm.
"The girl was half de—
she was in bad shape, but somehow she managed to grab Creed’s belt and toss it
to Jean, all before she hit the ground.
"She shut ‘em down,
blasted their minds, enough for us to get the upper hand. ‘See, the five Marauders
we knew, weren’t the originals, they were clones. Sinister, he adds something
to the mix that makes them almost completely resilient to mental attack. Jeanie
really had to push it.
“We did our business picked
up Storm, Bobby and Psylock, and got the hell outta there."
"What happened to the
Marauders?"
"Let’s just stay,
Sinister’s gonna be too busy clonin’ for the next while to get into our
hair."
"All of them?"
"Seven."
"Creed?"
Logan growled.
"No."
Rafe hit the wall with his
fist.
"You and me both."
Wolverine muttered.
Dr. Cecilia Raves entered
the waiting area. "Logan, I need your help. Gambit’s been hiding the fact
he’s got several broken ribs, and he won’t let me or Hank tend to him. He’s
just sitting up there sulking and I’m an inch away from strangling him!"
"Wouldn’t that kinda
defeat the purpose?"
"Are you gonna help me
knock some sense into him or do I have to use a bat. At least if he’s
unconscious I can tape his ribs."
"I’m comin’, I’m
comin’. Rafe, I’ll see ya later."
Rafe went back to Storm’s
room.
Not so much as a finger had
moved. Rafe pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat backwards on it.
He took Ororo’s hand in his, careful not to disturb the I.V.. With his other
hand he moved a strand of hair from her face.
He watched her for a few
minutes. Words she had once spoken came back to him.
‘My strength comes from
the support of those who care about me. Their love and the love of others allow
me to go on.’
"Arashi." He
whispered quietly to her. "I’m sorry, Arashi. I should have come before
now. I was stupid. I won’t do that again. I promise. I’m here Arashi, and I’m
not leaving you. I’m gonna get you through this, through every step. Things are
rough now, they may be worse someday. But I’m gonna be there with you, for as
long as you’ll have me.
"I don’t know what it
is you did exactly, and in such a short time, but you’re the first thing I
think of in the morning, and the last I think of at night. You’ve become a part
of me, the best part. I think I’ve been waiting all my life for someone like
you. And I’m not gonna let you go now, just because I’m afraid of loosing you
later. We’ll deal with whatever comes, together."
He paused and gently rubbed
his thumb along her fingers.
"Maybe this
relationship is a mistake. I don’t know? But whatever it is, let’s live to
regret it okay. There are a lot of people here who care about you and need you.
I’m one of them. So you fight this Ororo. You’ve got your support, we’re not
gonna let you fall."
He leaned in closer to
whisper directly in her ear.
"I love you."
* * * * *
Rafe sat up suddenly. He
had fallen asleep at Storm’s bedside, still holding her hand. He was not sure
what had caused him to wake. Looking around the room, he saw they were alone.
Storm’s condition was unchanged as far as he could tell; he was having
difficulty reading some of the strange medical instruments. Her face had not
changed either.
That was when Rafe noticed
their hands.
Before, her hand had been
limply lying on top of his hand. Now, her long slender fingers were weakly
wrapped around his. There was the most miniscule amount of pressure from her
grasp, but it was there.
He smiled, and lightly
returned the squeeze.
‘That’s my girl.’
The End