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Day One,

“Are you sure about this?” Standing just inside the foyer, Scott Summer, team leader of the X-Men and one of the closest friends of the person…the woman in question, asked his question his hooded eyes looking over her shoulders to take in the scene just a short distance away.

“Yes Scott,” answered Ororo, her own eyes turning to take in the heart lifting visual of the her ‘immediate’ family playing around each other with nary a worry of the world. Seeing them, especially the two younger children, one would never have guessed that not even forty eight hours ago they were pining and praying for the safe and quick return of their father.

Even Scooter, the family’s dog seemed to know that there was something to rejoice about and was completely engrossed with his masters, both the older Logan and his ‘de facto’ successor, ‘The Son of the Wolverine’, James.

“Logan…” she stopped to correct herself. “We need this. All of us. These last few months…”

“I understand,” Scott interrupted, a lop sided grin forming on his face, all for her benefit. “And I guess its for the best, for me that is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Logan,” her friend gestured towards the door, “I take the Wolverine is not particular favoring to me being anywhere near him…or for that matter you or the children.”

Opening her mouth to refute the comment, Ororo hesitated and then slammed it shut. She knew that what Scott had said was correct. She herself had seen it, not only through Logan’s reaction towards even the name let alone the visual of seeing Scott, but also in his eyes.

The wound although healing was still quite raw and her impending…her future wasn’t making the recovery any easier.

“Now go,” once again his voice drew her out. “Before he comes in and we have a repeat of old times,” he joked, a clear reference to the days of past when the Wolverine and Cyclops used to go up against one another, for a somewhat similar and equally one sided contest. Just as it was only Scott who would…could be Jean’s choice, so was Logan Ororo’s.

“Yes.” She sighed, noting how the Professor and Henry shook hands with her ex-…with her husband. Both of them had been talking to him covering any previously missed precautions they would need to take for her. Though not particularly supportive of their decision, neither her mentor nor her doctor said anything against it. Not that it would have had any effect.

“Thank you Scott,” the weather witch closed in for a hug. “For everything.”

“Hey,” Scott patted her back. “For you beautifu? Anytime.”

---

Date Two,

“It-Its...so big!” She gaped wide eyed at the huge construct that was the room, the master bedroom of the house that Logan had got made for her. Their house. One that had stood waiting for months to be finally turned into a home.

“Yeah, well,” coming to stand behind her, Logan drew her close, her back flat against his chest, their hands automatically joining at her mid section. “Thought you’d like it.”

Of course he had thought that she’d like it, heck, he’d got the made just for her. Logan smirked recalling the incredulous look on the architect and contractor’s face when he told them he wanted the whole top floor of the three level (including the basement) house to be just one big expanse, almost in a warehouse style fashion. On top of that he had got not one but three skylights built into the roof, to go along with the dozen windows, six on either side. And if that wasn’t enough, he had asked for the same treatment with the basement, although (understandably) without the whole skylight and windows setup.

As for the middle floor, along with the kitchen, the large living cum recreation room, a small office space, two guest rooms, there were the children’s rooms, which the two youngster were busy setting up. With Jubilee helping them get settled it granted the recently reunited couple some alone time.

With the remaining space on the top floor, that was left free as a forty feet long and almost twenty feet wide balcony.

“Logan…” Pushing open the double layered doors, the couple walked into the cool evening air…still not ready to let go of each other.

“Yeah.” He sighed into her hair, leaning down to nuzzle against the slender column of her neck.

“I-I…” it would be so easy to say sorry, and yet it wouldn’t be enough to express her emotions. “I love you.”

“Ditto darlin’,” he turned her towards him. “Love you too.”

---

Day Twelve,

“Ororo,” his tone was tight. “Look at me.”

A slight shake of the head was all he got as a response.

She didn’t want him to see her like this, at least not yet. And definitely not at a time like this.

“Turn to me.” Logan had to stop himself to pull her to face him. He was afraid. Yes, the mighty Wolverine was afraid, not for himself but for her. What had happened to her? One moment they were on bed with her hand firm in his hair and his on her hips, their bodies starting to hum in a similar and sorely missed rhythm and the next…

“’Ro,” he tried again, softer this time, his hand hesitating with the fear that his mere touch would hurt her. After all, hadn’t Hank told him that she’d come to a time when even the air caressing her body would cause her pain. Then he with his rough, calloused paws… “Darlin’, look at me.”

Slowly, as if time itself had come to a stop, she turned around onto her back, her tearful eyes pleading and at the same time shying away from him and to her hands, her left grasping and trying its best to stop the shaking in the right one.

“I-I didn’t want…” Goddess. Why did it have to happen now. She had been able to hide her previous two attacks from him, both of them thankfully occurring in his absence, once while he had gone to the city apartment to pick up the furniture and Jubilee’s stuff, and he second time when she was in the bath. So why now?

He was itching to pull her to him, to try and take her pain away. He wanted to hold her and never let her go. If he had to fight death itself, he was ready to do it…and if possible, go in her place.

“I…want me to hold you?”

“Please.”

---

Day Forty-three,

“Hey Windrider!” Coming out on the hail of a rather surprised Mariko, Yukio leapt forward to pull in her guests into their house.

“Yukio,” returning the embrace and looking over her shoulder, Ororo smiled at the still quiet Mariko sending a small wave to the peeking around the corner Amiko.

The way they hugged it was clear that not only had a long time passed since their last meeting but also that the two women cared about each other, a lot. And why not, even on their first meeting years ago they already knew a lot about each other, having heard many a tale from their then ‘common’ factor, who right now was standing lamely hefting two very heavy suitcases, along with the jumbo sized trekking-bag-pack over his shoulders.

“Hey! Wanna move it,” Logan snapped half heartedly. The truth was he was more than happy to stand there, if only because of the smell of the joy emanating from Ororo. He had vowed to make her happy again, to take away all her worries, all her pain, at least as much as he could…for as long as he could.

“Yer still alive, huh?” Breaking away, but still holding to each other, Yukio playfully scrunched her face at the scowling Logan. “Well, with her here…”

“Yeah yeah, enough of yer yappin’,” he stepped upto her. “Now move.”

---

Day Hundred and Eight,

“Hank. Anything?” Logan shot up at seeing the blue furred doctor exit through his lab. He had waiting for Henry to finish running the tests while watching Xavier at work. The telepath, his hands hovering around either side of the prone Ororo’s head, was in deep concentration using his psychic skills to not only bolster old barriers and stops within her mind but also install new ones.

An wanted precaution, they were a necessity, just like the painkillers and muscle relaxants that Henry was subscribing to her now.

“I am sorry Logan.” No matter how many times they went through this, no matter how many people they broke such a news too, for a doctor it never grew easier to tell a person that the hope that they had given them had worked out to naught. “The…”
“Why? What happened?” He never got a chance to explain himself, his words cut off by the accusatory snarl of the Wolverine. “You told us you had somethin’, somethin’ that would help her. That’s why we came back here. An’ now yer tellin’ me was all for nothing.”
“Logan, please try to…”

-SNIKT-

“Don’t yu fuckin’ tell me to understand McCoy. Don’t you dare.” A clawed hand rose threateningly. “Yer not the one who has to see the pain in her eyes. She won’t show it when you tell her that you had her runnin’ around on a wild goose chase. Fuck, she does her best to hide it even frem me.”

“Logan the culture was promising,” Henry tried to interject. “But it only works in isolation. Once inside the subject body…”
“Subject. Body.” Even though he knew that it wasn’t his mistake, Logan was doing all he could to stop himself to launch himself and do bodily harm to the doctor…possibly even kill him.

“Logan,” Charles Xavier’s polished but currently drained voice sounded from behind the door. “Stop it.”

At seeing now movement, the Professor tried again, “Ororo is tired and needs to…”

-SNIKT-

He didn’t even get to complete his sentence before his claws sheathed, Logan stomped past him. Reaching the bed, he picked up the already asleep Ororo, leaning her head against his shoulder and without even so much as a look towards the other two men walked out of the infirmary.

----

Day Hundred and Forty-One,

“Daddy?!” Her head leaning in from the slightly open door, young Kendall Munroe-Logan whispered to he father, her wide eyes fearfully regarding her mother….or rather the way her entire lower body seemed to convulse uncontrollably.

“Ssshh princess,” Logan whispered back, his Adamantium laced leg over Ororo’s. Her body turned towards his, almost trying to disappear within him, Ororo was biting down on her lips almost as hard as she was gripping at her rock, both for keeping the intensity of her worsening condition from Kendall and to avoid crying out from the pain shooting up her lower back.

Tears appeared in the girl’s eyes, both from fear from seeing her mother like this and from a combination of smell of her pain and tears and from sensing the weather outside worsen in a reaction to her. “Mamma hurt?”

“N-No baby,” pulling whatever strength she had at that moment, Ororo gulped down hard and lifted her head to look at her daughter. “Jus-t tired.”

“Tired?”

“Yes,” the older snowed haired beauty nodded. “Remember how we went out to see Tokyo yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

Ororo prayed that her lie would work, thankful when Logan stepped in to take it up for her. “Well, mamma got tired. You wanna help her getting better?” He segue-wayed.

“Uh-Huh.”

“Then go and get Jubes to make us something ta eat.”

“Okay,” with one last look at her widely (a little too widely) smiling mother, the young girl hopped off, calling out to her still in lala-land older sister.

The second she was out of hearing range, Ororo fell back, almost as if it was suddenly too much to even keep her head back. “Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too ‘Ro,” Logan growled huskily, his throat choked from seeing her like this.

“Love you too.”

---

Day Two Hundred and Seventy Seven,

“JAMES!!”

KRRAKKA-BOOOOMM!!

“James Monroe-Logan, you get your butt in here NOW!!” The slighter mature and more than a little annoyed angry, voice sounded across the corridor, followed by the scowling form of the feral weather manipulator Kendall Logan a.k.a. (the newly named) Torrent, as she stomped across the near empty hallway heading towards her younger brother’s room.

“James.” She yelled as she pushed open his room, only to find it empty, the bed and entire room littered with strewn clothes. “Jamie?!” The second time around it was much softer. About to leave, she stopped short, her enhanced senses catching the telltale sounds and smells of crying, both of which seemed to originate from the attached bathroom.

“Jami…ie?!” She trailed away as pushing open the door, her eyes widening at the sight of her younger brother before her. Sitting in the tub, his knees drawn close, his hand wrapped tightly around them, the young boy was shaking gently with the sobs wracking his body, the body that had gone a drastic change in the last few days.

Hearing the soft hail of his sister, the boy looked up and in a barely audible voice pleaded. “None of ‘em (*sniffle*) fit anymore.”

“Oh.” That was it? Such was her relief that even before she realized it, Kendall had broken into giggles the soft laughter soon giving way to full fledged guffaws.

“Yuck it up.” James pouted, more than a little peeved at his sister’s reaction. “Hmph.”

“I…I…am not,” despite her best efforts the chuckles did not seem to stop. “I am not laughing at you.”
“Uh-huh.” He did not believe her one bit, made clear by the way he pulled the towels around him doing his best to cover as much of himself as possible. Only recently having hit a slightly early puberty, James was still in the ‘shocked stupid’ phase, his nervousness causing him to shy away from everyone, sometimes even his own sister and father. If only...

“No,” walking up to the washtub, Kendall settled on the edge. “I am not.” Taking off her own exercise towel to drape around the shoulders of her sibling. Returning from her morning run with her dad, she had been on her way to the bath when she’d realized that all of the towels from her bathroom were missing. Even the extra stored ones. It did not take her three guesses to realize who it was. Hence her being here.


Getting an idea, a rather good one, she shot up. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Still pouting but somewhat relaxed, James groused. “Like I have somewhere else to go. I am not even going to leave the tub. Not ever.”

“Yes you are dumbo,” a light whack to the back of the head answered him. “I am just going to get some clothes for you to wear.”
“I ain’t wearin’ your fufu girly stuff.” Wide scandalized eyes pleaded to her.
“Oh man. You really are a dumbo. I am not getting you my clothes numnuts, but some of dad’s. You can wear them until we get you new ones.”
“What’s the use,” the self-blaming pout got plastered again. “They’ll only become small again.”

‘They’ll become small!!’ If he already didn’t look ready to burst out crying, Kendall would surely have had another laugh bout at that comment.

“Wait here okay.” She patted his cotton covered shoulder. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Almost at the door, Kendall stopped at her brother’s question. “Where’s dad?”

“Where he is always at this time of the day,” the soon to be young woman, looking even more and more like her mother, answered with a sad smile. “With mom.”

---

Elsewhere,

“…an’ he’s growing like a weed,” it was daily routine of his, one that he followed without fail. Starting his morning with waking up the two younger kids, he’d take them on a morning jog, letting them return from the one kilometer mark while he went on for another seven, going in a circuitous route one that brought him to the garden Ororo had started in and near the greenhouse they’d got built after they’d moved in here.

Though not as big as the one over at the Xavier mansion, it still sang alive with the love and care that the Goddess had lavished on her. And even though she wasn’t there anymore to continue to her work, Logan made it a point to do his best to do it for her, helped to a large extent by their daughter, who seemed to have inherited her mother’s green thumb.

Once there, he’d pick up a flower, usually a rose, one of the white ones. Whatever a white rose might signify to the others for Logan it always brought back the memory of the peace that he used to get on losing himself in her flowing tresses.

“Hank says his mutation’s got something to do with his pit-pitu…some gland of his. That and something in his bones, something he got from me. He says that within a couple of months he’ll be taller than Kendal and in a couple of years as much as y…” he trailed off momentarily, his hand falling to caress the flat surface.

He really missed her, even more so at this time of the day. He missed how she used to be the first thing his eyes would see when they opened in the morning. Her smooth as caramel, soft as silk hands gently caressing his face, as if trying to smooth away the darkness of the night and to wake him to the light that was her.

He still missed how her eyes used to light up when she laughed…and how every time she did that it would heal a little bit of his ravaged to near death soul.

He missed a lot, he missed a lot. But most all…

…he missed her just being there.

Note: I did not proofread (making any corrections) in this chapter. Couldn’t bring myself to do it. So for any spelling and/or grammatical mistakes….apologies.

Please Review…and let me know what sort of an epilogue should I give to Logan.

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