She Walks In Beauty
Chapter 20
by
Libby Edwards
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never have. Never will...*sigh*
The hours ticked by. Ororo lay on the bed she shared with Logan, curled up in a fetal position with her arms hugged tightly around her body. She'd pulled the drapes closed, bathing the room in a golden sort of shadow, and her eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the far side of the room, listening to the sound of her breathing and the traitorous rhythm of her own body.
Pregnant. . . she mulled over that word carefully, then discarded it. It sounded too much like a clinical experiment, and her poetic soul didn't like its sound.
With child. . . that was a laugh. Made her sound like the Virgin Mary.
Preggers. . . oh Goddess. Ororo snorted laughter, against her will. . . that sounded like something Kitty would say.
She rolled over on her back, her delicate hands coming to rest on her abdomen without a conscious thought. She was pregnant. . . she was carrying Logan's child. In the blink of an eye, her world had abruptly changed. . . her world, and Logan's as well. She closed her eyes, blinking back the fresh tears that threatened to spill down her already damp cheeks, and wondered again how in the world she was going to tell him. She wished again that her relationship with him had been a "normal" one, where she could have come home and embraced him, and told him the wonderful news. . . and then, like in a fairy story, Logan would pull her into his arms and they would dance away together into the sunset. . . Logan and me and baby makes three.
She laughed bitterly. Her life had never been a fairy tale. . . and now, it never would be.
She had to tell him, but how? When? They had never even discussed something like this. . . she wasn't even sure how he would react initially. Anger? Hostility? How could you do this to me? One guess was as good as another. . . and she couldn't wait forever. In a few months, she'd be showing anyway. . . and Ororo was fairly certain that there was no way in hell she could keep a secret like this from Logan for long.
With a tremulous sigh, she buried her face in her hands and wept.
*****
"God dammit all to hell!" Logan swore lustily and slammed a fist into the hood of the Bentley. "Jesus! That hurt!"
Scott slid out from underneath the car. "What happened?" he asked.
"Fucking thing shocked me," Logan growled. He studied his fingers briefly, where the blackened flesh was already healing into a healthy pink.
Scott only chuckled and slid back under the car. "Good thing you've got that healing factor," he replied.
"Ha ha. . . " Logan grumbled. "Fucking hilarious." He picked up an insulated screwdriver and poked experimentally at the homing unit wired into the battery. "Don't know why you guys have to soup up every damn car you own, anyway."
Scott only grunted in reply, and Logan crounched down and eyed him from beside the car's fenders. "How's it goin' down there?" he asked.
"Not much better than up there," Scott replied. He was straining at a stuck bolt on the underside of the Bentley, the greasy wrench slipping in his slick grip.
"Hang on," Logan said. "Get out of there and let me have a go at it. You've got smaller hands, anyway. . . you probably should be the one stickin' your hands into the engine."
Scott tilted his head enough to grin at Logan. "You just don't want to get shocked again."
"Damn straight."
Scott laughed and slid out from under the car, standing up wearily and handing the wrench to Logan. "There. . . have fun," he said, moving around to the front of the car as Logan slid expertly beneath the undercarriage.
"Hello, handsome."
Scott turned, hands on his hips, to see Jean strolling down the steps into the garage. He grinned and moved to kiss her, but she put a quick hand on his chest and shook her head.
"Don't you dare!" she scolded. "You'll get grease all over me!"
He grinned wider. "Sounds kinky."
"Scott!" Jean half-gasped, half-laughed. She leaned over slightly and nodded toward Logan's denim-encased legs poking out from beneath the car. "We have an audience, you creep."
Scott shrugged good-naturedly. "Who? Logan? He doesn't care. . . "
Logan chuckled laughter from beneath the car. "Scott's right, Jeannie. Don't stop talkin' dirty on my account."
"Oh, God. . . you men are such pigs," Jean laughed. She nudged one of Logan's booted feet with her shoe. "Have you seen Ororo yet, you big lug?"
"Not yet. . . why?" Logan asked. There was a clanking sound from beneath the car, then he slid out and looked up at her curiously. "Is something the matter?"
"No, she's fine. . . just a little under the weather, that's all." Jean crossed her arms. . . almost nervously, Logan noted. "You guys want a beer or something?"
Logan wiped the sweat from his eyes. "Sounds good, Red."
"Okay, I'll get you a couple," she said.
"I'll come with you," Scott said. "I need a sandwich or something. You want anything, Logan?"
"Nah. . . just a beer," Logan replied. He stood up and stretched as Jean and Scott exited back up the stairs, then he crossed to the open garage door and sat down on the sun-warmed concrete, his face to the cool afternoon of early September. A soft breeze stirred, drying the sweat on his skin, and he ran his fingers through his damp hair and sighed deeply. He was going to have to be careful. . . a place like this, could make a man go soft.
A twinkle of late afternoon sunlight caught his eye, reflecting off the banks of high windows on the second floor. He searched out his room, and saw that the curtains were closed. Ororo was probably napping again. . . the thought made him frown a little. He hoped that this bug or whatever it was passed soon. . .
"Here you go," Scott said behind him. Logan jumped a little, and Scott looked mildly surprised as he handed the open beer bottle to him. "Jeez, Logan. . . I think that's the first time I've ever been able to sneak up on you. You're getting slack."
Logan shrugged and took the proffered bottle. "I wasn't really paying attention. . . too much on my mind, I guess."
Scott nodded and sat down beside him on the concrete pad, a bottle in one hand and a roast beef sandwich in the other. "So I've noticed," he said. "Care to talk about it?"
Logan shrugged again. "Not much to talk about, really. . . just been thinkin' a lot, that's all." He took a long drink from the bottle, then wiped the foam from his lips. "Did Jean say anything about 'Ro?"
"Just that she wasn't feeling very well, but she seemed to be fine. . . just needs some rest," Scott replied. "I wouldn't worry about it. . . it's probably just her time of the month."
Logan quirked an eyebrow at Scott. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You know," Logan said thoughtfully. "I don't think 'Ro's ever had a 'time of the month' since we've been together."
"How would you know?"
Logan gave Scott an "are-you-stupid?" look, and Scott looked away with a sheepish grin. "Oh. . . never mind. . . listen, if it makes you feel better, why don't you do something nice for her?"
Logan thought for a moment or two, as if reluctant to answer. "I did have something planned along those lines," he said finally.
"Oh, yeah?" Scott took a swig from his beer. "What have you got in mind?"
Logan took another drink, his eyes never leaving the wide, sunlit expanse of the yard. He considered this. . . should he tell Scott? Could he trust him to keep his mouth shut? Did it matter? Logan was so tired of bearing the silence of his plan that he was nearly bursting with the need to tell someone, anyone.
"I want to ask Ororo to marry me," he said quietly.
Scott promptly choked on his beer. He gasped for air, and Logan fought a smile as he gravely pounded on Scott's back.
"Jesus, Logan!" Scott said finally, once he got his breath back. He wiped watery eyes and coughed. "I meant flowers or candy or. . . or. . . something! Christ!"
Logan eyed Scott with some amusement. "I know what you meant," he said.
Scott studied Logan's face. "You're not serious, are you?"
Logan said nothing, continuing to look passively out into the yard.
"Damn," Scott said quietly. "You are serious."
"Yep."
"Jeez." Scott shook his head and took a big swallow from his bottle. "I mean. . . I just. . . well, I never pegged you for the marrying sort."
"Neither did I," Logan remarked dryly, a slight smile on his face.
"Have you really thought about this?"
"Yep."
"And you still want to do this? I mean. . . do you have a ring and everything?"
Logan nodded. "I got it a few days ago."
It didn't seem possible for Scott to look more stunned, but somehow he managed it. "Well. . . damn," he said again. His face slowly creased into a smile, then, and he extended a hand to Logan. "I must say, you've surprised the hell out of me, but I couldn't be happier for you, man."
Logan looked at him thoughtfully, then grinned back and took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. "Thanks, Cyke. . . that means a lot."
"You realize that this means you'll really be one of the family," Scott added. "You marry 'Ro, and you're stuck with us for life."
"I could think of worse things."
"When are you planning on asking her?" Scott asked.
Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Cyke. I've been tryin' to figure that out, but I can't seem to come up with a good time."
"You nervous?" Scott asked.
"Scared to death."
Scott laughed. "I can imagine. . . want some free advice, though?"
"Sure."
"Don't plan anything big for when you ask her. Just surprise her, when she least expects it," Scott said. He drained the last of his beer and laughed ruefully. "Trust me on this one."
"Why?" Logan asked.
"Let me put it this way. . . you're not the first to propose to 'Ro. You knew that, right?" Scott said.
"Yeah. . . " Logan scowled a little, not welcoming the picture of Forge that surfaced in his mind.
"Well, Forge made a big deal of it. . . candlelight, flowers, the works." Scott grinned at Logan. "I guess what I'm trying to recommend is this. . . don't do anything that it's not in your nature to do."
"Keep it simple, huh?" Logan mused.
"Exactly."
Logan sighed and leaned back on his palms, regarding the approaching sunset. "Sounds good, Cyke. I don't seem to do too well with the romantic candlelight-and-flowers shit anyway."
Scott snickered. "Yeah, I seem to remember you going a little overboard on the flowers thing."
Logan looked over at Scott and grinned a little, which made Scott laugh that much harder.
"Cyke?" Logan said.
"Yeah?"
"Kiss my ass."
*****
Hours later, Ororo opened her eyes drowsily to the sound of the shower running. The room was dark except for the light from the bathroom spilling across the floor. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then picked up the clock on the nightstand and stared at it. Goddess, it was eight o'clock!
The shower stopped, and she heard the sound of the curtain rattling back. A few seconds passes, and then the door to the bathroom opened wide and she could see Logan standing framed in the doorway, naked except for the towel he was drying his hair with.
"Why did you let me sleep so long?" she asked.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. "Hey. . . you're awake." He crossed to the bed and sat down next to her, the clean scent of him washing over her as he leaned close. "I thought you could use the rest, so I let you sleep."
"Oh."
He slid his powerful arms around her back and pulled her into his lap, allowing his hands to slide down her arms and over the firm curve of her thighs. His head dipped lower, seeking out her mouth with his, and Ororo closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the warm, insistent touch of his lips on hers.
Tell him, a voice whispered.
No, she rebelled silently. Not yet. . . not yet. . . she slid her arms around his neck and clung to him as his arms tightened around her, returning his kisses with a touch of desperation. Logan seemed to sense the change, and he gently pulled away, his dark eyes holding hers.
"You okay, darlin'?" he asked softly.
"Yes. . . yes, I'm fine," she lied. She looked away, then back with a tentative smile. "Logan, let's go out tonight. I don't care where. . . I. . . I just need to get away for awhile."
He grinned. "You read my mind, darlin'. I was going to ask you the same thing."
Her smile brightened just a little. "Where do you want to go?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don't care. I thought we'd take the motorcycle, tool around a bit."
"Not the motorcycle," she said hurriedly. Expected pregnancy or not, she wasn't about to take a chance with her baby on the back of a motorcycle.
Logan looked a little startled, but he nodded. "Okay, we'll take one of the cars."
"Okay." She sighed a little, then planted a soft kiss on his cheek before getting up. "I need to go take a shower, then. . . if you don't mind waiting."
"Not at all." He picked up the towel from where it had fallen and recommenced drying his hair. "I'll probably get dressed and go down to the back patio. I need a smoke."
"I'll come find you." She started to move toward the bathroom, but he reached out and caught her hand before she could move away.
"Hey," he said softly. "You sure you're okay?"
She gave him the brightest smile she could manage. "I'm fine, my love," she replied. Their eyes met a moment longer, and impulsively she moved closer and kissed him lightly. "I love you, you know."
He slid his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. "I know. . . " he murmured, his head lowering to hers for a sweet, gentle kiss. "I love you, too.".
He felt her mouth curve in a smile against his, and then she gently pulled free and headed for the bathroom. Logan watched her go, draping the towel around his neck, and he walked to the dresser and waited patiently for the sound of the shower to start.
There. . . the curtain rattled shut, and he could hear the sound of her splashing beneath the shower stream. He opened drawers and began to dress carefully, all the while watching himself in the mirror, drawing strength from the familiar features glaring back at him.
Once he was dressed, he paused, then opened the top drawer of the dresser. Under the layers of clothes, he found the small box that had lain carefully hidden for the past few days. He opened it once, smiled a little, then closed it again and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans.
Tonight?
Yep. . . tonight.
He took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and told his reflection in the mirror, "Jesus. . . I need a smoke."
*****
A few minutes later found Logan seated in one of the wrought iron garden chairs on the patio, his booted feet propped on the umbrella table as he smoked his cigar. The smoke was calming. . . he dragged on it hard, then closed his eyes and tried desperately not to think about what he had planned.
Funny. . . he sure hadn't awakened this morning with the plan to do this today. It was Scott, really. . . what he had said. . . about not doing anything that it wasn't in his nature to do. He was reluctant to admit it, but he had been thinking about cooking up something along the flowers-and-candlelight lines. . . he was glad Scott had talked him out of it. Not that talking him out of it had been hard, Logan thought with a grin. This idea, to take her out for a simple evening stroll or something, and then ask her, was much better. She'd be surprised as hell. . .
. . . provided, of course, that he could find the balls to actually do it.
There was a soft step at the patio door, and Logan sniffed the air without opening his eyes. "Hello, Marie," he said quietly.
"Hey, Logan," Rogue said shyly. The tone in her voice made him open his eyes and turn around to look at her curiously. "Got a minute?" she asked.
"Sure, kid," he said. "What's up?"
"Well. . . " She skipped over to a seat beside him, her gloved hands folded in her lap. "It's about Remy. . . "
Logan snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Oh, c'mon, Logan!" she snapped. "Ah really, really need your help this time!"
He took a long drag on the cigar. "And?" he asked.
She pursed her lips, then tried on a sweet smile instead. "Logan," she began. "Ah need you tah teach me how tah dance."
Logan scowled at her around his cigar. "What?!"
"Ah need you tah teach me how tah dance," she repeated patiently. "Ah found out that Remy loves tah dance. . . like you an' Miss Munroe do it. . . an' Ah want you tah teach me."
His eyebrows lowered dangerously. "How do you know I danced with Ororo?"
She smiled wider. "Ah saw you an' her dancin' on the balcony a few nights ago."
Logan felt his face flush, and he scowled. "You been spyin' on me, kid?"
"Oh, don't be stupid," Rogue replied airily. "Ah just happened tah be at the right place at the right time."
"Uh-huh. . . "
"C'mon, Logan." Rogue laughed, and Logan felt his irritation melting away at the sound. "Are you goin' tah teach me or not?"
Logan spread his arms and looked around the patio. "What? Here?"
"Why not?" Rogue countered. She got out of her chair and knelt down beside Logan, her small hands resting lightly on his arm. "Please, Logan? If Ah learn tah dance, maybe Remy will dance with me."
"Aw, Christ. . . "
"Please?"
Logan looked down into her upturned face, her brown eyes soft with pleading, and he sighed. "Fine. . . all right."
Rogue jumped up gleefully. "Yesss!"
Logan stubbed out his cigar on the table, then stood up and faced Rogue. "I swear, kid. . . if anybody sees me doing this, I'm going to kill you."
"Everybody is inside watchin' TV," she said.
"Thank God for small favors."
Rogue looked around. "Ummm. . . do we need some music?"
"Not yet. . . come here," Logan said. He waited until Rogue, suddenly nervous, came closer, then he took her left hand gently in his. "Here. . . put your hand here, on my shoulder," he said. "And give me your other hand."
"Like this?" she asked shyly.
"Yeah. . . that's right." He slid one arm around her slender waist and pulled her closer to him. "Loosen up, Marie. . . you're as stiff as a board."
"Ah'm nervous!"
"Don't be," he said with a grin. "It's just me. Now. . . relax your arm. . . that's right. And let me lead."
"What do you mean?"
"You've got to move your feet, Marie," Logan laughed.
"Like this? Oh, Jeez!" Rogue stumbled, and would have fallen if not for the secure support of Logan's arms. "Sorry about your foot, Logan."
Logan chuckled. . . this was more fun than he cared to admit. "Don't worry about it, kid. . . I didn't feel a thing. Now, left, right, forward, right, left, back. . . quit lookin' at your feet!"
"Ah've got tah see where Ah'm goin'!"
"No, you don't. Follow me, Marie," Logan said. He pulled her a little closer, and felt her stiffen against him. "Oh, for Christ's sake, kid, will you relax? I'm not gonna bite."
She did relax then, and Logan was able to sweep her in a slow circle. Thank God for his boots. . . they saved his toes from the worst of Rogue's damage, and then after a few more minutes she slowly began to mold herself to his rhythm. "That's it, kid. . . you're getting it," he said. "You have to trust the guy you're dancin' with, okay? Let him lead."
"Ah think Ah need lots of practice," Rogue said mournfully.
"You'll get it. . . it just takes time," Logan assured her.
"Some folks need more time than others, Ah think."
They both laughed then, dancing together. . . the man and the little girl he loved enough to be his daughter. . . underneath the clear September stars.
*****
The sound of mingled laughter drifted through the open patio door to Ororo's ears as she came down the stairs into the hall. She stopped at the base of the steps, leaning against the newel post as she watched the pair dancing with a small smile on her face. Rogue was giggling and stumbling all over the place, which was making Logan laugh. . . the two of them were quite a sight.
Ororo smiled. Did Logan ever notice the adoration in Rogue's eyes when she looked at him? Poor thing. . . she'd lost her family and everyone she'd ever known when her mutation manifested itself. . . there had been many a night that either Ororo or Jean held the girl, while she cried and mourned the loss of a mother and father that just couldn't handle the thought of their untouchable daughter. Was it any wonder that Rogue had transferred that lost affection to Logan? Not at all. . . he was the only adult male in her life that had accepted her from the minute he met her. And, truth be told, Ororo was fairly sure that Logan looked at Rogue in the same way. . . like the daughter he never had.
She put a trembling hand to her abdomen. What if it was a daughter? Would Logan love her as much as he loved that little orphan out on the patio? Would there be another night like this, Logan dancing with his own little girl, her tiny feet resting on top of his? Or would the thought of his own child. . . boy or girl. . . be too much for him to deal with?
Ororo swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill, and realized that there was only one way to find out.
Tonight. . .
She would have to tell him tonight.
"Hey," she said, stepping out onto the patio with the best smile she could muster. "Looking good, Rogue."
"Thanks, Miss Munroe," Rogue said. . . just as she stepped squarely on Logan's foot. "Oh, who am Ah kiddin'? Ah suck," she laughed.
Logan winced a little. "You'll get better," he said.
"You hope," Rogue giggled.
Logan laughed. "You ready to go?" he asked, looking over at Ororo.
"If you are. . . but I don't want to disturb the dancing lesson," Ororo replied with a smile.
"You're not. . . Ah think Ah've stomped on Logan's feet enough for one night, anyway," Rogue said. "Maybe tomorrow, though. . . will you teach me some more?"
"Sure, kid," Logan replied.
"Okay." Rogue gave him a quick hug. "Thanks, Miss Munroe, for letting me steal him for a few minutes."
"Any time, Rogue." Ororo smiled and watched the girl jog happily into the house, then turned and strolled slowly to Logan's side.
"Ready?" Logan asked, coming close and kissing Ororo on the forehead.
"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied. He smiled down at her, missing the tremor in her voice, and put an arm around her waist as they walked to the garage.
*****
In the darkness beyond the mansion, a black van sat hunched against the surrounding night on a small rise. The vantage point overlooked the front entrance to the school, and offered a perfect view of the lit garage as the door came up, revealing a man and woman climbing into a bright red Mustang.
"Is that the mutant, Forge?" a man asked, his voice a harsh whisper in the quiet.
"That's the one," Forge replied. This whole business bothered him. . . he didn't like it, despite assurances from the top brass that this was strictly a question-answer gig. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes once more, studying Ororo's profile as she seated herself in the Mustang beside Logan. "He might come willingly, you know. I really don't see the need for all this."
"Orders, Forge," the officer replied. He trained his binoculars on the pair as well. "Apparently this guy has a history of being. . . well, less then cooperative."
"Still. . . " Forge shrugged and sighed. "I wish you guys would have left me out of it."
The roar of the Mustang's engine floated to them on the wind, and a second later the car was easing out and down the drive. "Right. . . time to move out," the officer said. He whispered a brusque command to the driver of the van, and its engine purred to life as well. "Ready, Forge?"
Forge cast one last look at the departing Mustang, and felt his heart grow heavy with foreboding. "Yes. . . yes, I'm ready," he said aloud. "Let's go."
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