Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never have. Never will...*sigh*
Logan pulled into the parking lot by the pond and killed the engine. The night sounds filled in the ensuing silence. . . the dull croak of the frogs surrounding the pond, mingled with the song of the insects as they sang up the moon. He looked over at Ororo, the streetlights gleaming on her white hair as she looked out the window. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. . . he smiled, reaching over and tracing a finger down the smooth length of her bare arm, and she turned and looked at him.
"This okay?" he asked.
"It's lovely, Logan," she said, and she sounded like she meant it. "If the mosquitoes don't eat us alive," she added with a quiet laugh.
"They won't. . . it's too late in the season," he said. "Do you want to wear my jacket? It might be a little cool on the walkway."
"I'll be fine," she said. She favored him with one of her heart-stopping smiles, then opened the door and exited the car. Logan followed suit on the other side, stopping long enough to retrieve his leather jacket from the backseat, and watching the long stride of her sexy legs as she moved up the walk toward the pier. Damn. . . he never got tired of looking at her.
Good thing, too, he thought with a grin, since he was planning on making this relationship a permanent one.
He locked the doors, then walked behind her to the pier railing. She paused, looking back with a soft smile, and when he caught up with her she gently took his hand and laced her fingers through his. He slowed down his pace, enjoying the feel of her slender hand entwined with his, and the two of them strolled along the boardwalk in comfortable silence.
There was a faint hum, somewhere below them on the far side of the pond. Logan noted it briefly. . . it was an engine. Probably just some kids, making-out in Daddy's car on the other side of the parking lot. He chuckled a little to himself. . . well, couldn't blame them. Sounded like fun, actually.
Ororo looked up and smiled at the sound of his low laughter. "What's so funny?" she asked.
"Nothing." He stopped, leaning against the railing and pulling her into his arms. She looked startled at first, but then she relaxed against him and he laid his cheek against her hair. Her arms slipped under his coat and around the warm sides of his torso, and she sighed deeply, the scent of vanilla and shampoo filling his senses like the richest, most beautiful perfume in the world.
"I. . . " He stopped, swallowing hard.
Now?
Yes, now. "I. . . I've got something I've been meaning to talk to you about, 'Ro."
It seemed like she stiffened in his arms the tiniest bit, but her voice still sounded calm. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, too."
Logan looked down at her with a curious expression. "Yeah? What?"
She didn't look at him, her face turned away as she pressed against his chest. "I. . . why don't you go first?" she said quietly.
"This isn't something bad, is it?"
There was no mistaking the stiffness in her touch this time. Ororo pulled away abruptly, her eyes dark pools as she stared at him in the darkness. "Well. . . that depends," she said, her voice carrying a funny note that Logan couldn't place. "On what you need to talk to me about."
"I. . . " Logan scratched the back of his neck, suddenly at a loss for words. There was an unmistakable cool hostility in Ororo's tone, and it was making an already nervous situation that much worse. "I. . . Jesus, 'Ro. . . "
"Oh, Goddess," Ororo whispered.
He stopped, his eyebrows lowered worriedly. "What?"
Her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared at him with eyes that began to sparkle with. . . tears? "You know. . . don't you?"
Logan stared back, a look of total confusion slowly spreading across his face. "What are you talkin' about, 'Ro?"
"You know!" She covered her face with her hands, and now there was no mistaking the tortured sob that came from her. "Oh, Goddess, how could I have been so stupid? Of course you would know!"
Logan felt himself rapidly losing control of the situation. . . this wasn't the way he had envisioned it at all. "'Ro, I swear, I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he said. He reached for her placatingly. "Don't cry, please. . . "
"And so you brought me out here to break it off with me?" she asked.
His mouth dropped open. "Break it off with you?! What in the hell are you talkin' about?"
"I know what's going on, Logan!" she cried.
What in the hell. . . ? This was rapidly getting ridiculous. . . Logan felt a pulse of anger start in his forehead, and he clenched his jaw tightly. "'Ro. . . I swear to God," he said evenly. "I have no fuckin' idea what you're talkin' about."
"Don't bother lying," Ororo said, abruptly turning away. She stopped a few feet away, hugging herself while tears streamed down her face. "You can smell the change. . . or did Jean tell you? Was that it?"
"Did Jean tell me what?!"
"And was this your idea of a sweet place to do it?" she asked, her hysteria rising. She waved her arms about at the pond and the surrounding park. "To take me to one of the places where we had been happy. . . to soften the blow? Well, thanks a whole hell of a lot, Logan!"
It was too much for Logan. "Dammit, Ororo!" he snarled. "I brought you out here so I could ask you to marry me!"
A dead silence followed. Even the song of the frogs stopped. Ororo whirled to stare at Logan, her cheeks wet with tears. "What did you say?" she whispered.
He sighed, slowly bringing himself back under control. So much for romance. . . "I'm sorry, 'Ro," he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I. . . "
"What did you just say?" she repeated.
"I. . . " He looked about helplessly, then fished in his pocket for the ring box. It was light in his hand, and he stared at it, trying to regain some composure. "I. . . I'm asking you to marry me, 'Ro."
"Why?"
Logan looked up again, startled. "What do you mean, why?" he asked. "Because I love you, dammit."
She laughed shortly, without humor. "Because you love me, or because you feel an obligation?" she asked.
"Christ. . . are all women this fuckin' nuts?" Logan said in exasperation. "'Ro, darlin'," he said, "I'm asking you to marry me because I love you. End of story. And if you had any idea how hard it was for me to come out here tonight and do this, you wouldn't be yankin' my chain the way you are right now."
Ororo's face grew colder, if such a thing were possible. "I do apologize," she said icily. "I had no idea what a terrible strain this must have been for you."
"'Ro, darlin', I didn't mean. . . "
"Leave me alone, Logan," she said. She turned away and walked back the way they had come. "I need some time alone."
"'Ro?" he said, starting after her. . . but when she sped up and didn't turn back, he sighed and fell back heavily against the railing. What had just happened? What did he do wrong? And why, in God's name, was Ororo acting like a lunatic? Logan watched her go, the silvery cast of her hair disappearing into the shadowed park, then he turned to the railing and leaned against it, the ring box suddenly heavy in his hands. Now what in the fuck was he supposed to do?
He opened the box, the streetlights picking up the glint of the gold within and reflecting it in his eyes. She'd never even given him a chance to show her the ring. . . and it was so perfect, too. A chain of apple blossoms, cast in gold filigree and painstakingly rendered. . . apple blossoms, like the ones that fell in her hair so long ago, on that day when he began to realize that he was falling in love with her.
He took the ring out, setting the box aside, and held the circle of gold up before his eyes. Now what? Would she come back? Well, she had to. . . he doubted she would try to walk back home on her own. And then what? What kind of trip home would this be? Had he lost her. . . without even knowing what he'd done wrong?
Logan slipped the ring on his smallest finger, where it was a tight fit still. There was a feeling of finality as he did so, and a heaviness grew in his chest. He'd lost her. . . he wasn't sure how it had happened, but he'd lost her. He leaned against the railing and covered his face was his hands, shutting out the mocking, lonely darkness. . . and the terrible emptiness in his heart.
*****
"That's it," Major Santrock whispered. He took the binoculars away from his eyes and signaled the van driver behind him, then turned to Forge and grinned. "The female has walked away. . . we have a clear shot, now."
"Let me see those," Forge said. He took the binoculars and peered through them, mildly surprised to see that Santrock was right. . . Ororo was walking away from Logan, and he wasn't following. A mixture of bitter elation and concern stirred in him. . . part of him was secretly vindicated, because it looked like the couple had had some sort of fight. . . but the other part was curious as to why Logan would let her walk away into the dark alone.
Well, no matter. Ororo was safe. . . the one who needed to be worried was Logan.
"All right, then," Forge sighed. "Down we go."
Santrock unhooked the small dart gun from his belt, loading it with a series of barely perceptible clicks. Forge waited until he was ready, then they slowly began the crawl through the damp grass toward the pond.
*****
The wind changed, blowing cool against Logan's skin and rousing him from his thoughts. He slowly pulled his hands away from his face. . . Ororo still hadn't come back, but he wasn't surprised. So, now what? Go find her? It had been about ten, fifteen minutes. . .
There was a sound from his right, barely heard above the song of the frogs, but there nonetheless. He stiffened, ears pricking, and turned his head slowly in that direction. Nothing, then. . . there it was again. He stood up straight, facing the surrounding darkness, his nostrils flaring as he strained to pick up a scent. The wind freshened, and a familiar scent met him. . . but, what in the hell. . . ?
Without a thought, he unsheathed his claws. The ringing of the metal was loud in the park's quiet. . . he began to advance slowly, his sharp eyes peering into the shadows, trying to hunt out the source of the familiar scent.
The rustling came again, louder and closer this time. Logan stopped, readied for attack. "Forge?" he said aloud, and was mildly encouraged when the scent changed subtly to one tinged with apprehension. "Come out, you fuckin' Cheyenne. I can smell you."
Sshhp. . . sshhp. . .
Two sharp needles of pain pierced Logan's skin. . . one in his neck, and the other in his chest. He looked down and saw the plastic fletching of a small red barb lodged in his chest. . . tranquilizer darts. Shit. . . fast-acting ones, too, from the feel of 'em. . .
Logan was dimly aware of his hand reaching up, claws sheathing themselves, as he tried to remove the barb. . . then he was falling, falling. . . "Ororo!" he tried to shout, but his voice was gone, disappearing down a long, long tunnel. . .
. . . then darkness and sleep covered all.
*****
"Logan?" Ororo murmured. She stopped in her tracks, her head turned back the way she had come. Had that been him? She wasn't sure she had heard it correctly. . . but it had certainly sounded like him.
Maybe I should go back. . .
Maybe I'm not ready to go back. . .
She closed her eyes, willing the tears not to come. She was tired of crying. . . it seemed like that was all she had been doing lately. And then there was the way she had just behaved with Logan. . . as if she were on the verge of hysteria. Poor Logan. . . he had been trying to do the right thing, or what he thought was the right thing, anyway.
How could she make him understand? What she wouldn't have given for this nightmare to not be real. . . for Logan to have asked her to marry him because he loved her, and only that. . . not because he knew she was pregnant and he felt an obligation. Of course, that raised the obvious question. . . how did he know? She sincerely hoped he had figured it out on his own from her scent and change in behavior, because she didn't think she could stand the thought that Jean had ratted out on her.
Logan had sworn that he had no idea what she was talking about, and somehow, his lie was what hurt most of all. He'd never lied to her before, even to spare her feelings, and it was painful to think that he would start lying to her now. . . trying to make up some fool thing about not knowing and asking because he loved her and. . .
She stopped and blinked. Wasn't that the issue, though? Why would Logan lie, when he had never done so before? If anything, he should have been relieved when Ororo accused him, because that would have possibly freed him of his obligation, right? After all, he would have made the effort. . .
What if he didn't know, Ororo? she asked herself, her heart beginning to pound. You were so quick to judge him, that you never gave him a chance to explain. What if he was telling the truth? What if he really didn't know?
Only one way to find out. Ororo wiped her eyes, brushed her hair back away from her face, and bravely began the long walk back to the pier where Logan waited. What had she done? Logan had never lied before. . . that was one of the things she loved about him most, his maddening, unrelenting honesty. Oh Goddess. . . Ororo broke into a run, hurrying along the lamplit paths as fast as she could go, her heart pounding in her chest. Logan had never lied. . . so it stood to reason that he was telling the truth now. Why in Goddess' name hadn't she thought of that? Why was she so sure that he couldn't love her, couldn't want to marry her?
A nervous laugh burst forth. Damn these pregnancy hormones. . . maybe that was why she was acting like a raving lunatic. . .
She sprinted up the last few yards of the path, her sneakered feet pounding up the pier just in time to see a black van pulling away from the parking lot. Its tires squealed, and Ororo stopped long enough to watch it curiously, before turning back to the walkway and moving up it slowly.
It was empty. Where was Logan? She stopped again, looking around and straining her eyes into the gloom surrounding the pond, trying to see where he might have gone. Nothing. . . surely he wouldn't have left her here? No, the Mustang was still in the parking lot, the streetlights gleaming off its red, polished lines. Did he walk home? Leave the car for her? Okay, that was just silly. . . besides, he had the keys in the pocket of his coat, and neither the coat, nor Logan, was anywhere to be found.
She wandered down the walkway a little, her arms folded against the chill of the night air, and saw a small box perched on top of the railing. Curiously, she picked it up and studied it. . . it was a ring box, its padded mount empty. After a moment's thought, she recognized it. . . it was the box Logan had pulled out of his pocket earlier. An engagement ring. . . for her? But where was the ring?
She closed the box carefully and held it loosely in her cold fingers, looking around with a feeling of desolation. "Logan?" she called to the waiting night. . . but the night did not answer.
*****
The phone rang. Scott opened his eyes, protected by his sleeping-glasses, and glared blearily at the offending lump of plastic on his nightstand. It rang again, and Jean made a faint murmur of discontent beside him as she burrowed deeeper into the sheets.
He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter after three in the morning. This better be important, he thought with more than a little irritation, and he plucked the handset off the phone and put it to his ear.
"Hello, Xavier school," he mumbled.
"Scott?"
Abruptly he snapped awake. "Ororo?" he asked, sitting up in the bed, the sheets falling away from his chest. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"
Jean stirred sleepily. "What is it?" she asked, her voice soft and drowsy.
"I. . . I'm fine, Scott," Ororo said. . . although she sounded anything but. "I'm so sorry to wake you, but. . . can you come pick me up?"
"Of course, 'Ro. Where are you?" he said, pushing off the sheets and swinging his legs off the bed. "And where's Logan? I thought he was with you."
"He was, but. . . " There was a pause on the other end, and when she spoke again, her voice was shaky with tears. "I don't know where he is, Scott. We had a fight, and I walked away, and when I came back he was gone. . . "
"How long?"
"I don't know," she said. "It's been hours and hours, though. . . I waited for him to come back, but he hasn't been back and I'm worried. . . "
"Okay, okay. . . calm down," Scott said. Jean was sitting up now, her sleepiness gone as she studied Scott with some concern. "Just tell me where you are and I'll be right there."
"I'm at the little park just off the main highway, on the way to Bradshaw Street. The one with the lake. . . "
"Okay, I know which one," Scott said. "Hang tight. . . I'll be there soon." He heard Ororo's murmured thanks, then he hung up the phone and opened the dresser, pulling out jeans and a T-shirt.
"What's going on?" Jean asked, pulling back the covers and getting out of the bed. "Was that 'Ro?"
"Yeah. . . she's at the park," Scott said. He yanked on his jeans, then struggled into the T-shirt. . . only to pull it off again when he realized it was on backwards. "Logan's disappeared, she says. . . something about them having a fight."
"He just left?!"
"She doesn't know." Scott succeeded in getting his shirt on the right way, then sat down on the bed and reached for his shoes. "I can't imagine why he would leave, though. . . even if they did have a fight. That's just not like him."
"No, it's not." Jean looked thoughtful, then she went to the dresser herself and started pulling out clothes. "I'm coming with you," she said.
"Are you sure?" Scott asked.
"Positive," Jean replied. "Something doesn't feel right about this. . . and I want to find out what it is."
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