Shifting Sands -- The Lone Wolf And
The Goddess
Part Four
written by Valegra story by
D. Briganti
Charles Xavier
removed Cerebro's visor from his head and stared thoughtfully at the blank
screen for roughly a minute before reluctantly turning his wheel chair. The
three X-men behind him were tense, their silence a testament of their worry.
Charles couldn’t blame them for their worry. Ororo had been gone for exactly a
week now. There hadn’t been a word from her in all that time. Nor was her
communicator activated, so Cerebro wasn’t able to pick up on her exact
location. What had begun as a routine assignment had quickly turned into
something more. Xavier didn’t want to dwell on what exactly that something
could be. What he did know was that neither he nor Jean were able to track
Ororo’s mutant presence pionically which meant one of several things. One,
Ororo was out of their range, which didn’t seem possible as she hadn’t traveled
far. Two, she was unconscious, and Charles had to wonder about her being unconscious
for the entirety of a week though he had to admit that he’d only began scanning
for
her the past two days. Or
lastly, and the option he didn’t want to even consider; Ororo was dead. This
was the option foremost on the minds of the three individuals he faced now.
"Well, Chuck? Did ya
find her?" Wolverine asked. Of the three, he seemed the most relaxed. He
leaned against the doorframe fingering a new cigar, the last to enter the room.
Straddling a chair just inside the room, Remy LeBeau lit a cigarette. Of the
three, Charles knew he was the most concerned. However he was doing a great job
hiding his interest in the conversation. His expression was almost as impassive
as Logan’s.
The last member of the
group, Jean Gray, wasn’t making any attempt to hide her agitation. She was
pacing back and forth in front of both men, arms crossed. Her face was pale and
Charles suspected she hadn’t had much sleep.
"As you all know, I’ve
been scanning the region that Ororo left to for the entirety of the morning. Neither
Cerebro, Jean, nor I have found any trace of her. But as you all know there
could be several reasons for this." Charles began, adding on the last as
he saw Jean was about to interrupt.
Jean's repressed rage
exploded as she stepped forward to face her mentor: "Charles, you're
supposed to be the most powerful telepath on the face of this planet, aided by
a machine whose power is unsurpassed in most of the galaxy, and you're saying
you can’t find her? I hardly think the other scenario’s apply. I mean, if she
were unconscious we’d at least have picked up her communicator wouldn’t
we?"
"I agree, Chuck. ‘Ro
would have activated her com if she had any problems," Wolverine said
backing Jean Gray’s statement.
Xavier sighed. "I
would not have sent Ororo if she was not competent, Logan. The last thing we
need to do at this point is eliminate any possibilities."
"Even the one where
the Chere is dead, non?" Gambit stated quietly for the first time.
Charles, looked over at the
young Cajun. He couldn’t see his eyes as they were covered by a pair of dark
shades neither could he read the man, not even surface thoughts. Remy was a
complete blank to him. The situation was frustrating. But now was not the time
to worry over his inability to read the red headed thief.
"Yes, even the
possibility that she could be dead. I know very well how you all feel. Ororo
was my responsibility, yes, but she knew the risk as all of the X-men do. As
all of you do."
Jean's emerald eyes
narrowed into slits. "She's always been the sister I've always wanted
Charles. There has to be something that we can do? She may be anywhere now...
wounded, taken prisoner... or worse..."
Charles Xavier turned back
to Cerebro. Pushing several buttons he brought up a map of the area where the
F.O.H. compound was located. The map didn’t actually have the compound on it,
until recently the compound had been a secret. What it did display was a lot of
open country and a small town tucked in between a forest of trees. Charles
assumed that it would take Ororo some time to case out the area, before she
attempted to break into the compound which is why he’d only began to worry a
couple of days ago. His mind hadn’t been put at ease upon discovering that
Cerebro had scanned the area and for all extents and purpose came up with
nothing. In fact, the computer had actually diagnosed Ororo’s status as
terminated. Which was an awful conclusion.
"You all know how
important those photos Ororo’s obtaining are to our cause. If I were to send a
team in after her... no that’s not a consideration. Too many new faces in the
area would make them suspicious. And until we get the photos and shut down the
compound, we can’t risk the operation being uprooted."
"Remy say don’ need to
send in a team, homme. Let him go in, find out what’s goin’ on out there."
Gambit suggested shaking the ashes off the end of his cigarette.
"If anyone can find
her, Professor, it would be Gambit," Jean said grasping the idea.
"After all, they're both thieves... or were. It couldn’t hurt. I can’t
stand this not knowing, Charles!" Jean shrieked nearly in tears.
"And if he don’t
report in a couple of days, we send a team into the air to check out the
area," Wolverine finished finally stepping forward and stopping Jean’s
pacing with a hand on her shoulder.
"Fine, we’ll send Remy
in," Charles agreed still distracted but knowing that Remy knew Storm’s
style. If something had happened to her, he could at least find the film. Her
efforts wouldn’t have been in vain.
After that, plans were made
for Remy’s departure in a couple of hours. And when those were set, the three
X-men left Charles with Cerebro. "Wherever you are, Ororo, I pray and hope
you're alright," he murmured. Taking one final look at Cerebro’s monitor
he closed his eyes at the sight of the words along the bottom of the screen. Previous
search, mutant: Ororo Munroe, codename: Storm. Subject Terminated.
*****
Ororo Munroe opened
her eyes, gasping, her first thought was of the large robot hovering over her
like an avenging angel ready to enact revenge upon her. But contrary to what
she remembered, she didn’t find herself kneeling before her goddess with her
mother on one side of her and her father on the other. Neither did she see the
blackness suffocating her, her punishment for unsuccessful obedience. Instead,
when her panic subsided what she saw was a thick comforter laying over her, a
quiet bedroom with wooden walls surrounding her, and the beauty of a sun filled
sky just beyond a window about her. The next thing she reregistered was the
antique furniture beside and around the bed, and the graphic almost obscene
posters hanging on the walls. Deciding the posters weren’t what she wanted to
look at on first discovering the goddess had spared her life, she turned her
attention back to the window, well the one not covered with a framed poster.
Keeping company with the sun were thin vaporous clouds migrating lazily from
one edge of the horizon to the other. Beneath the sky rolled long stretches of
green countryside all of this bathed in the light of the late morning sun.
So entranced by the beauty
of it all, it was several minutes before Ororo heard the repeated rhythm of
what must have been two large objects striking each other. Drawing a leg up
wanting to investigate, Ororo gasped as a sharp pain tore at her left side
stealing her breath. When she was next able to breath she decided that it would
be wise for her not to try getting up before obtaining more precise information
about her condition. So lifting the blankets covering her with her healthy arm she
began to do just that.
She noted that her wounds
had been rather sever, however the treatment she’d received had been good.
Whoever took care of her had done a good job. She was only slightly disturbed
upon discovering that she was lying in nothing more that a pair of briefs, but
deciding that vanity was the least of her problems she thought nothing more
about it. The person taking care of her had strapped her arm to her side, using
two thin sticks they’d managed to secure her in a way so that she wouldn’t
further damage what Ororo suspected was a couple of bruised ribs. On her
shoulder was a fresh patch covering the spot where she’d been shot. Ororo was
relieved to discover that the pain in that area was dull and not sharp which
meant that the bullet hadn’t shattered a bone.
Looking up from the work,
Ororo inspected the room she was in more thoroughly. The room itself was
sparsely decorated. The bed she slept in was large, she would guess it as a
king sized one. The color scheme of the room was masculine, in dark tones
mostly undecorated browns and tans. Beside the bed was a table with a small
lamp. Beside the bed was a wooden chair turned backwards. Further along the
wall was a small chest with an empty bucket on top. In front of one of the
windows, the one covered by a framed poster, was a thin dresser. And lying
across the floor was a dark green sheet partially covered by a thick green
quilt matching the design of the one covering the comforter over her.
Ororo pulled herself
painfully to a sitting position. "Well, it seems that the Bright Lady
protected me once again. Wherever I may be, at least I am not dead," she
said to herself, gazing thoughtfully at the roof. How long had she been there?
But more importantly, who was responsible for her care?
While this question plagued
her, Ororo became aware that the noise coming from outside had stopped, only to
be replaced by a slightly off key male voice singing an old heavy-metal song.
Ororo, not a real fan of such music smiled slightly at the man's attempt to
imitate the wild screeching of the artist. Fingering the bandage on her
shoulder, she wondered if the man would come in any time soon. That thought led
her to finger a lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. When she saw
how dull and frayed it was, her small smile turned to a frown. She sighed and
dropped her hand away from her hair. Goddess, what she would give for a decent
bath.
The sound of heavy
footfalls drew her attention to the bedroom door. Ororo didn’t know what she
expected. When a tall young man with shoulder length raven black hair and light
gray eyes stepped into the room, she released the breath she hadn’t realized
she was holding. The man was carrying several thin pieces of wood that he
settled next to the wall by the dresser. He was also holding a bag of nails and
a hammer that he settled next to the wood on the floor. After this was done, he
turned to the bed. Weary but relieved to see that his was not the face of the
large man who’d shot her, Ororo watched his every movement without comment.
He smiled upon seeing that
she was awake. Ororo noted almost without thinking about it, that the man had a
very appealing smile. In fact, he himself was very appealing. Tall, topping her
five eleven frame by several inches, he was thin of frame, and broad of
shoulders, flat stomached and heavily muscled. His features were harsh but at
the same time classic, with high cheekbones and a strait nose. His hair was so
black it was almost blue. Making his black brows hawkish. And his eyes brought
to mind the darkest silver. At the moment they were shining. Ororo swallowed
and looked down at her lap. Her brush with death must be affecting her in an
unseemly uncanny fashion.
"Congratulations.
Looks like you've stopped playin' the Dormant Princess and returned to this
valley of tears!" he said by way of a greeting, straddling the backwards
turned chair beside the bed.
Ororo looked up from her
lap and took the time to notice exactly what the man was wearing. His clothes
were worn and the violent images depicted on his T-shirt matched the images on
the wall. The gore within them both alarmed her slightly. But it was not her
place to judge the man's preferences. He’d just saved her life, after all. He
didn’t appear to be a man insane enough to bring her back to health only to
kill her. With this decision made Ororo smiled politely in return to the man's
statement. "If I am still here, I have you to thank. Please accept my
gratitude for saving my life."
The man nodded absently
captivated by something he’d seen in her eyes. Ororo could feel her cheeks
growing hot. The man’s stare was unnerving. She would have blushed several
shades of pink if he ever told her the thoughts running through his head at
that moment.
Clearing his throat, the
man blinked his way out of the trance he’d fallen into. "You give me too
much credit, Miss. I did nothing special. Anyone with a bit o’ first aid
training would have done the same."
Ororo wondered if he truly
believed that. There weren’t many ‘normal’ humans left that would lend a hand
to a fallen ‘mutant’ human. Nodding absently, not really agreeing but not
openly calling the man a liar, Ororo sighed. "You did a wonderful job none
the less. Whether you admit it or not, I do owe you my life. Thank you."
A tense silence fell between
them. The man watched her as if she were something he’d caught in a jar and
wished to dissect at any moment. Ororo followed his every move with her eyes.
She was grateful that he’d saved her life, but gratitude didn’t come with a tag
of trust attached.
"A guys gotta take
every opportunity he can get way out here in the middle of no where. Can’t let
every girl we meet drown before we get to know her. I am curious though. It’s
not often that a beautiful woman falls from the sky." The man left the
statement hanging between them. There was a question in his eyes and Ororo
didn’t miss the concern in his voice.
But she didn’t want to talk
about what happened at the bar. The entire incident was a living nightmare. And
Goddess, this man could be one of them. He could be here to find out where she
put the film. It was this thought that had her turning her attention back to
the window, her ‘ice goddess touch me not, you are beneath me’ persona firmly
in place. "I have thanked you for my life. You need not pry into my
affairs. When I am whole once again I shall be on my way," she said
angrily. With her face turned from the man, she didn’t see him flinch before
frowning.
With a sigh the man gained
his feet. "Another thing a guy knows is when he’s not welcome in his
bed." Ororo closed her eyes tightly. Her side was beginning to throb and
whatever pain reliever she’d been given previously was fast wearing off so that
her body was one big ache. "I assume you want to be left alone. I'll head
back downstairs and gulp down something. Your heads gonna start hurting in a
few minutes. My advice would be to try to get some sleep. It’s the fastest way
I know to replenish your strength. If you need anything, Miss, just call."
Turning to the door, Ororo watched from beneath lowered lids as the man was
about to leave the room.
In those few seconds as the
man made his way to the door, the faces of all the men and women she’d fought
began to flash before her eyes. She saw the faces of the X-men, her surrogate
family. She saw the face of Remy her temporary father. She watched as Charles
Xavier approached her through the sand of the Sahara plain when she was barely
twelve years old. She watched as a young T’Challa walked away returning to his
would be kingdom. She saw the unaware faces of the rich people as she pulled
money from their pockets. She saw the kindly face of the man who’d taken her in
off the streets and who’d been like a father to her. She saw the kids around
her inviting her to join them. And lastly she saw her mother, her mouth moving
but no words coming out as she took her final breaths. Then she saw no one.
Nothing. She was alone, again.
Acting out her panic, Ororo
gasped and called out to the man. "No, please." The man stopped
walking and turned back to the bed. "I am sorry. Forgive me," she
stammered, now she was blushing. "My name is Ororo, Ororo Monroe. I
need..."
The man made his way back
to the bed slowly. Ororo watched as he went down on one knee beside her. He
didn’t speak, just raised a brow in such an arrogant manner, that Ororo was
instantly reminded of Remy LeBeau. Trying to look angelic at the same time, the
man crossed his arms on the edge of the bed and waited.
"I-I need a
bath," Ororo finally finished.
The man’s lips curved up
slowly. "There’s a lake behind the house, though I really don’t think it’s
a good idea to move you." A hand placed gently on his own stopped his flow
of words. The man tensed, looking at first the hand over his and then back into
the woman’s eyes.
Dropping the Ice Goddess
guise, Ororo smiled one of her ‘I’m going to get what I want so tough it out as
best as you can’ smiles. "I will need some help." The man, swallowed,
rose to his feet and reached for the quilt covering her.
authored by Davide altered
by Valegra