Ororo
quietly lay on her left side on her bed.
She glanced at her watch.
2:54pm. She let her arm drop
back down to the pillow beside her. She
sighed and closed her eyes.
They were all concerned about her. She could sense that.
Ororo had been home just over two weeks now.
She knew she had been greatly missed and as a courtesy, Ororo spent a
great deal of time during the first few days, with the other X-Men. But as time progressed she allowed herself
more time to do as she really wanted, which was spending time alone. The last 48 hours, she had barely seen or
heard by anyone else in the house.
Storm felt she needed to think. She had to put everything back in its
place. Thanks to Jean and the Professor
her memories had been fully restored.
Her emotions and feelings however, about the events of the past several
months were still strewn about.
She was furious at Creed for what he had done
to her. Yet at the same time, he was kind to her, perhaps kinder than he
would have had to been for his plan to work.
Was there something behind that?
And then again, there were her own guilty
thoughts.
As much as she hated admitting it to herself,
Ororo did enjoy her time with
Creed. She liked talking to him, being
around him and most guiltily of all Ororo enjoyed being with him. Although
the thought of it now, knowing the kind of person he really was, caused her to
shutter, she could not, no matter how she tried to force herself, say that she
disliked being with Victor.
This was causing Storm no end of grief.
Her feelings toward Logan had not changed. In fact they had strengthened with the
knowledge that he had never given up on her.
But although in her mind Ororo knew that what happened was ultimately
not her fault, she could not help but feel as though she had been unfaithful to
Logan. She had never been raped by Creed, she was with him of her
own choice and indeed, most of their
encounters were instigated by Storm herself.
She felt as though she had betrayed the man she
truly loved. Her engagement ring she wore on a gold chain around her neck
instead of on her finger. She felt
unworthy of it—of him— especially when he looked at her with such love and
patience in his eyes.
She could barely bring herself to face him now.
Especially now.
Ororo
looked at her watch again. 2:57pm. She closed her eyes again, but this time
wearily sat up. She slowly walked to
her en-suite washroom and leaned against the door after closing it behind
her. She looked at herself in the wall
mirror to the left but did not move otherwise.
Casting her eyes downward, she saw that her hands were shaking.
‘Stop
this foolishness.’ She thought, scolding
herself.
Ororo walked over to the counter and picked up
an object lying there. She removed the
small rectangular object from its container and with shaking hand, held it up
to light for a better look.
Ororo felt as though she had been struck. A jolt went through her, not unlike that of
the single lightening bolt that at that very moment split the sky.
Storm shook her head in disbelief. She backed away from the counter as though
to distance herself from the object, however she was still holding it.
Backing into the wall behind her, Ororo brought
her hand to her mouth. Her eyes
squeezed shut and the tears welled up.
‘Oh…Goddess,
no.’
She brought both hands to her face and slid
down the wall until she was sitting with her legs up to her chest.
Inches away from her feet, the rectangular
strip with the now blue tip lay
discarded on the cold tile floor.
The End
For
those of you who’d like to know, this story originally came about when
Wolverine, either in the television show or the comic (I forgot which) once
said something like “It’s a real good thing she’s on our side.” And I began to
think, “What if she wasn’t?” From that
I originally envisioned a story where like this one, Ororo has amnesia and is
made to believe that she is the adopted daughter of Magneto. Then, just before I started writing, I
thought, “What would be even sicker?” Enter Victor Creed. (But I haven’t completely ruled a Mags story
out; it’s just that the amnesia thing’s been done so I’ll have to find another
route.) The title is from part of my favorite line from Shakespeare: “He
thinks too much, such men are dangerous.” from “Julius Caesar” (Act 1,
Scene 2, Line 19 – if I’m not mistaken).
Will there be a sequel? I have
absolutely no idea. For now, I don’t
really think so. Anyway there ya have
it! (Ain’t I a devil?!) Long time
coming, but we’ve finally arrived. So
what do you think? Don’t hold back
now! Let me have it! I wanna hear from ya!
stormgates@hotmail.com