Warning:  This story may contain adult content and language and should not be read by those who are offended by such things or are not of legal age in their respective countries.

Note: This story takes place about a year after “The Search For Xavier”.

COLD HANDS…

Part One

So what is this weather, and what is this darkness,

and why do I feel so alone?

When will it snow, it’s been raining for hours,

and why do I feel so alone?

            -“Alone” written and owned Lisa Loeb from the CD “Tails

Ororo placed her glass in the dishwasher and closed the door.

“Hey, Rain Lady.”

“Robert! When did you get here?”

“‘Bout an hour ago.”

“Is this just a visit?”

“Nope. I’m home for good.”

“That is wonderful.”

“Actually, I’ve been looking for you.  I wanted to know if you could… you know… start tutoring me again.”

“Of course.”

“Tomorrow? Same time, same station?”

“Yes.”

*          *          *          *          *

The next day.  8am.  The Danger Room.

“You are trying to hard.  This is a natural ability you are trying to use.  Do not force it.”

Iceman knitted his brow in frustration.  The two X-Men had been involved in this rather simple exercise for an hour and Bobby Drake had made little progress.

The object of the game: gain the upper hand.

So far, Ororo had kept the upper hand and showed no intention of giving it up.  He’d lost count of the number of times she’d toppled him.

Bobby slid down his ice ramp to the floor of the Danger Room.

“How am I supposed to beat you when you won’t let me get anywhere near you?”

“Would you like me to be easier on you?  Would our enemies?”

Ororo flew down and landed in front of him.

“I have been thinking about your fighting method since you returned last evening.  You seem to fight directly; by the book as most people expect they should.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that is your problem, Bobby.  You try to fight like everyone else.  Like Scott and Warren…”

“Seems to work for them.”

“But that is them.  They are using what skills and abilities seem natural to them.  You, you are more creative.  I have seen you using your powers in downtime in all sorts of creative ways.  Remember the ice city you created in the forest?  And the replica of the mansion?”

“A lot of good that does us in battle.”

“What I mean is, use your powers how you feel you should use them.  You have an extremely creative mind…”

Bobby let out a snort.

“I meant that in a positive way.  Creativity is a skill like any other.  Use it to your advantage.”

He nodded slightly, more to himself.  “Okay.  Go again?”

Ororo used a warm wind to lift herself backwards and away from him in response.

“Begin.”

Iceman started firing a barrage of snowball-like bullets at Ororo.  They were quick as gunfire but Storm easily dodged them.  She forced a stream of humid air at him melting most of the bullets.

Bobby grinned to himself but not so much as she would notice.

‘Gotcha.’

Bobby knew that air flew in currents and that the wet humid air Ororo was creating was all around them was also in currents.  He targeted one of these wave-like currents—the one directly behind her legs.  A hard sheet of ice formed in the moist air and was flexible because of the humidity.  It grew along the current’s wave.  He caused it to suddenly snap like a blanket, the moment it passed under Ororo’s feet.

The snap caught Ororo off guard.  She gasped as it sent her toppling backwards.

Bobby had all of three seconds to enjoy his success.  His grin quickly faded when Ororo’s head hit the wall and she was sent into a freefall to the floor.

‘Oh, Shi--!’

He projected an ice-slide and slid over, catching Ororo just before she would have hit the hard floor.  As he set her down, she let out a little groan and brought her hand to the back of her head.

“Ow.”  She said squinting.

“Oh god, Ororo, I’m sorry! Are you okay?  I am so sorry.”

“Ow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am—alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  But going to need a Mytol.  A big one.”

“I’m so sorry.  That was stupid of me.  Can’t ever do anything right.”

Ororo dropped her hand and smiled at him.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For toppling you into the wall like that.”

“And was that not the point of this exercise?  The general point anyway—to gain the upper hand?  It was my job to protect myself and your job to attack me.  I failed, you did not.”

“I guess.”

“That was some trick.  I am impressed?”

“Really?”

“Yes.  And I am also in pain.”

He helped her to her feet.

“One bucket of Mytol coming up.  It’s on me.”

*          *          *          *          *

It was one week later and Bobby’s feelings of guilt had disappeared, thanks to much prodding by Ororo.  He was actually starting to feel rather proud of himself as he related the tale to Hank who had just returned from Muir Island.

“You knocked Ororo over.  You!?  I don’t believe it.”

“Surprised the hell outta me too but I did it.”

Hank stopped their stroll and looked a t his best friend a moment.  He then shook his head and continued to walk.

“Naw… too outrageous.  It couldn’t have happened, at least not intentionally.  You must have done it without realizing it.”

“Sending her into the wall… that was an accident.  The rest I meant to do.”

“…Naaawww.”

“You don’t believe me?  Ask Ororo, come on!”

He began to tug on Hank’s blue elbow.

“She’s not here.  Forge picked her up a little over two hours ago.”

“Forge?  Are those two back together again?”

“Apparently so.”

“How long?”

“Uh… about two months now, I believe.  Give or take a week.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nuthin’.”

“Don’t give me “nuthin’”, I know that “Hmm”.”

“Just wonderin’ how long it’s gonna last this time.  Storm and Forge I mean.”

“Do I smell a wager implication?”

“I’m not so deprived that I’m gonna try and profit off a friend’s heartache.”

“Goin’ once… goin’ twice…”

Hank!”

“Kidding, kidding! Sheesh!  You’ve been away waaay too long if you can’t even tell when your best friend is making a joke…”

“Sorry.”

Hank raised an eyebrow.  “Now I know something’s wrong.  Where’s the witty comeback?  Where’s the Blue Boy cheep shot?”

Bobby shrugged.  “Just got some stuff on my mind lately.” He said, and before Hank could respond with a shot at his mental capacity he smiled and added: “You’re pretty perceptive for someone who looks like something the cat hocked up.”

“Ah, that’s my boy!” Hank said slapping a heavy arm on Bobby’s shoulder.

“Now, if it’s items that animals cough up that you wish to talk about, perhaps you should follow me to a mirror and take a look at that rat’s nest you call hair…”

*          *          *          *          *

Bobby sat back and looked at his creation.

He had successfully transformed the entire the Danger Room into an ice palace.  He now sat slumped in one corner.

“Computer?”

<“Active”>

“What time is it?”

<“Eight Hundred Thirty One Hours”>

“Really?”

<“Yes”>

‘She’s an hour and a half late.’

“Computer, locate Storm.”

<“Storm is currently in section Alpha Four.”>

‘Her apartment?  Why would she still be…oh…’

“Uh… Computer… Is Storm alone in her apartment?”

<“Affirmative”>

“…?”

Bobby stood up.

“Computer, return Danger Room conditions to normal.”

<“Complying”>

The ice palace began to melt as he walked out of the Room.

*          *          *          *          *

Bobby paused his hand in mid-air before lightly knocking on the door.

There was no answer.

“Storm?”

“…”

He opened the door and stuck his head in.

“Ororo?”

He walked up the three small steps when there again was no answer.

“Ororo?”

Ororo’s attic apartment was vast.  The doorway was near the center, more on the side she kept as a greenhouse.  Her living space—the bedroom and attached washroom, were on the other side of the attic separated by a wall with a large open doorway.

It was from this direction that he heard a sound he didn’t like…

Crying.

Ororo was lying on her bed on her side, her face turned so that her pillow absorbed most of her sobs.

In the dividing doorway, Bobby scratched his head awkwardly.  He looked back to the stairway.

‘Should I get someone…?’ {SIGH}

He quietly stepped into the large room.

“Ororo?” he asked when he’d reached the foot of her bed.

Ororo sucked in her breath, but didn’t turn to face him.

“Bobby?”

“Are you alright?  What happened?”

She sniffed and sat up, putting her feet on the floor.  Her back was obviously purposely still towards him.  She wiped at her face.

“N—nothing has happened.”

He moved around the bed but she kept her head turned away.

“Those aren’t exactly tears of joy you’re spilling.”  He knelt down in front of her.  She turned her head more.

“Ororo…”

“Robert, please… I—I wish to be left alone right now… I am sorry about our session this morning.  Would you please go?”

“…No.”

“What?” She looked directly at her for the first time.

“Not until you tell me who or what’s making you so upset.”

“She looked at him a moment longer, then slowly began shaking her head.

“Bobby… it is nothing… really…”

Her voice cracked on the last word.  She brought her hand to her mouth as if to take back the flaw and she closed her eyes tightly to prevent the next flood of tears from escaping.  Her free arm she hugged around her midsection as though she were in pain.  She leaned forward placing her head in her lap and began sobbing again, her hand still muffling the sound.

Bobby was almost afraid to touch her, worried that he would only make things worse.

Or—Ororo… It’s okay… Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad…”

‘I have no idea what I’m doing here.’

“Plea—Please don’t cry… It’ll be alright.” He sat up beside her.  He placed one arm across her shoulder and his other hand on her arm.

This seemed to calm Ororo some.  She took a few breaths and sat up, again turning her face away from him.

“I—I am sorry for behaving in such a manor.”

“No, don’t apologize.  You just had me a little worried; I’ve never seen you like this.  What happened?”

She sighed and looked down at her hands resting in her lap.  She shook her head again and closed her eyes.

“…Forge… and I… we had a fight.  A big one.  I do not even recall what triggered it.  It ended as it always does, with his highlighting my commitment to the X-Men.  He says I am unable to have a life outside of the team—that I am… handicapped.  And as per usual—I was left with nothing to dispute him with.”

She grabbed the sides of her head in frustration.  “He has this… way, of twisting his words and his argument, so that I am so confused by the end of it… I cannot defend myself.”

She rested her forehead in her hand, propping her arm up on her knee.

“I cannot understand what we are doing wrong in this relationship… Is it truly me?  What is it that I am doing that is so wrong—”

“Hold on a sec… Now I…don’t know much about what’s been going on between you and Forge, but from what I have seen, he seems to be the one who’s always screwing up.  I thought you guys were through for good the last time.  But you keep going back to him.  Then he leaves again or says somethin’ stupid to make you cry like this…  It’s nuts!  And as far as I can see, he’s not worth these tears.”

Ororo looked at him again, but he couldn’t read her expression.

He stood up.

“Course… it’s not like it’s my place to say anything.”

“…No… no you do have a right.  You are my friend.  You have a right to your opinion.” She took a deep breath. “…But my relationship with Forge, if there now be one, is something I must deal with on my own.”

Bobby nodded, but tightened his mouth into a straight line.

“I understand.” He said.  “But he sends you home in tears again and it’s on.”

Ororo gave an explosive laugh in spite of herself.  She covered her mouth.

“That’s better.”  Bobby said with a smile.

He started to walk away.

“Bobby…”

He turned back.

“Thank you.”

“…For what?”

Ororo drew her lips into a thoughtful line.  She nodded slightly.

“Thank you.”

Bobby raised the side of his mouth in an awkward smile.  He shrugged.  “Sure.  Any time Rain Lady.”

*          *          *          *          *

“Robert?”

“Oh, hey Ororo.”  Bobby looked over his shoulder at her as she entered the darkened den.  He was sitting on the couch, his stocking feet crossed at the ankles on the coffee table.  Alex Trebek and the Jeopardy board flashed across the television screen.

Ororo walked around the couch and sat on the opposite end from him, curling her long legs up underneath herself.  She absently looked at the screen.

“I thought you’d be in that meeting about tactical strategies.”

“I was there for a short time.  I have a headache so I left.”

“Mmm.”

She looked at Bobby thoughtfully.

“Why do you never attend meetings like that?”

He snorted.  “Me?”

“Yes, you.  You have good ideas.”

“And who would listen to them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Storm… I’m the class clown, remember?  Henry the Fifth.”

“What?”

“The answer… er… question, it’s Henry V.”

A moment later, when none of the contestants buzzed in, Alex revealed that the question was indeed, ‘Who was Henry V?’.

“You make jokes and play around, this is true.  But you do take things seriously when it is warranted.  We all know that.”

“What is Angola?  Warranted is when there’s no one else around.”

“You are too hard on yourself.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at Ororo.  I am too hard on myself?  Who has to live up to the mantle of being a goddess?”

Ororo grinned.  “Well… The Parthenon.”

“What?”

“The question.” She pointed at the screen.

“Oh.”

“Thank you again for this morning.  It helped.”

He shrugged slightly.  “Still not exactly sure what I did but don’t mention it.”

“Ptolemy.” They both said at the same time.

“What is Ptolemy?” The pudgy librarian said.

“Correct.” Alex said enthusiastically, and the crowd applauded.

“I never thought of this as one of the shows you would watch.” Ororo said.

“Well, the monster truck rally isn’t on for another hour…”

“Bobby, that was not what I…  Yes it was.  I apologize.  And after what I just said…”

He smiled.  “Don’t worry about it, Ororo.  Really.  I’m use to it.”

“Maybe that is the problem.”

Bobby sighed crossing his arms in front of him.  He looked absently at the milk commercial on the screen.

“You know… I think we’re a lot more alike than anyone realizes.  We both play to the crowd.  Everyone thinks I’m the clown who never takes anything seriously, and everyone expects you to be… well…”

“…Perfect.” She finished, looking just as absently.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to see you crying this morning, wasn’t it?  Can’t show any cracks in the armor?”

Storm chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully.  “I suppose.” She said more to herself.  “I am just…  It feels expected of me.”

“Same problem—other end of the scale.” He said quietly.

“I suppose these are our ways of coping with our complex lives: playing these parts.”

“Or maybe we’ve been playing them so long we forgot how not to play them.”

“…When did you get so insightful?  And why did I never notice?”

“Answers in that order: I have a lot of time on my hands, and maybe you weren’t looking hard enough.”

“I shall be certain not to make that mistake in the future.”

Bobby grinned.  “George Elliot.  He was a woman you know.”

“Show off.”

 

To Be Continued…

On To Part Two

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