Peril of Flight
Chapter 3
by
Paxnirvana
Author's Note: Rating for language, rape & violence, mild sex. Hey, it's the X-Men, right? Wolvie cusses, Sabretooth's mean to somebody in it, they dress in black leather and beat people up, and Logan/Ororo are hot for each other. What more do you want - milk and cookies? *Original Character warning.* Thought I'd forgotten her, eh?
The limitations on Storm's powers are Bryan Singer's fault not mine - it's Movieverse.
Disclaimer: They belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox. Not me. I just love 'em. This is for entertainment purposes only. I make not one thin dime off this. Trust me.
The jet wasn't silent. And the island no doubt had some specialized early attack warning systems, knowing the nature of the man who'd built it. Scott flew low, casting up twin sprays of water behind the engines, to avoid standard detection systems. Avoiding anything else would depend on speed.
As the rocky islet approached, he steered the jet up with uncanny precision, somehow able to discern the exact distances even at high speed as he hauled the nose up and dumped velocity just in time to arc the jet up and over the edge to a fairly wide, level area. Making an instant decision, valuing surprise over tactical advantage, he landed.
Logan had already leaped free of his restraints and was undogging the hatch as Scott secured the plane. Jean and Ororo were quickly behind him.
"Logan, wait!" Scott called, torn between the demands of the jet and the demands of the team.
"They heard us land," Logan snarled, squeezing out the hatch before it was fully open. "Sabretooth is mine." And he was gone, dropping to the ground. Ororo waited just until the hatch cleared, then leaped out without waiting for the steps, a wind rising instantly to support her. She rose into the air above the parked jet, surveying their surroundings closely. The landing place was a strangely level space at the edge of the island, several corridors branched away into the jagged cliffs around it. How Scott had seen, let alone used it as a landing place mystified her.
Jean dropped the steps, then turned to face Scott as he finished his lockdown and jumped out of his seat. "Stay with me, if Sabretooth gets by Wolverine, you don't stand a chance." Jean nodded her understanding as he climbed down the steps before her. Ororo remained above, watching.
"See anyone, Storm?" Cyclops called, all leader now.
"No one yet," she said. "Wolverine has gone down the far left tunnel. On the scent."
"Jean and I will go look for the girl. I saw helicopters on the way down. Storm, see if you can disable them. We don't want them to get away with her."
"As you say, Cyclops," she said, raising herself higher into the air. A glob of green goo shot past Cyclops' shoulder, narrowly missed Jean and splattered across the black metal of the jet behind them. Jean and Cyclops whirled, bracing for attack, Cyclops' hand at his visor.
"Toad!" Storm cried, spotting the crouching man from the vantage point of height. Memory surged and sharp winds rose about him. He ducked and leaped away down a corridor. She went in swift pursuit, her hair crackling with flares of static.
"Storm, wait!" Cyclops called futilely. She was gone.
"Damn that Logan," he said, trading disgruntled looks with Jean. "He's a bad influence."
"Let's go find Nene," Jean said somberly. "Before they figure out we've come to get her and not them."
* * * * *
Logan ran low, claws extended, pausing occasionally to sniff the trail left by his enemy. He was fully aware he was being led to a battleground of Sabretooth's choice, but followed anyway, determined to keep him occupied and away from the others.
He paused just outside the doorway of a huge industrial kitchen complex, arches and doorways led out from it in several directions. Great place to ambush or be ambushed.
"Got yer scent, Wolverine," Sabretooth rumbled from somewhere, the echoes confusing in the metallic space. "Smell it on that wind-bitch too. She's gonna scream for me this time."
Logan felt his lips draw back from his teeth, the hair rising on his neck. Rage filtered through his system, bending him closer to the floor. He sniffed carefully at the random drafts. There. Moving slowly, he slipped into the room, willing his opponent to keep talking.
"Gonna do her like I did that little girl earlier, only I won't have to cut shallow this time."
Red rage surged. Wolverine - Logan gone completely - gathered himself and rounded a final corner at a charge, claws extended before him. Sabretooth whirled, nearly catching him with his claws, did catch him, but the blood stopped and the pain faded before it slowed him. He drove his own claws deep, slicing out wickedly, spraying his enemy's blood across the shiny walls.
Sabretooth roared in pain, then lunged for him, the bigger man bowling his tormenter over. Wolverine braced himself, managing to turn the charge enough so his foe didn't land on top of him directly, to pin and gut him. He slashed again. Blood flashed. Howls of pain echoed through the island. Sabretooth rolled free, standing with clawed hands spread wide. Blood stained his tan clothes, but stopped running right away. He bared his fangs, dark eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
"Bring it on!" he snarled, shaking his heavy mane out of his face. Wolverine charged.
* * * * *
After pausing at the sound of an echoing roar, Scott led the way cautiously down a narrow hall, hand near the control of his visor. Jean felt mentally around the immediate area for the mind she had touched so briefly through the Professor's. And any others.
"Not far ahead, to the left," she said quietly to Scott. He nodded, keeping silent. They knew Sabretooth had excellent hearing and was intimately familiar with the island. He might be able to lose Logan and double back for the girl if he suspected she was their real goal. A series of doors appeared around a bend in the hall.
"Which one?" Scott asked. Jean concentrated for a moment, her hands pressed to her temples.
"That one," she pointed to the second one down.
"Anyone else in there?" She shook her head to his soft question. He gestured her ahead to the door with a short nod, indicating he would keep watch. Jean nodded and opened the door. Inside it was dark, save for a small table lamp. A slim figure was huddled on the bed.
"Nene?" Jean called, moving forward cautiously. She heard a stifled sob, and the figure curled up tight into a protective ball. "Nene, it's Jean Grey. From Westchester - do you remember me?"
She walked closer to the bed, the room small enough that she reached it in only a few steps. "We're here to help you," she continued. The ball shivered. She sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned anxiously forward.
"We have to get you out of here, Nene," she said again. Now in proximity, Jean could feel the pain and terror radiating off her and shielded carefully. If her minor telepathy could pick it up without reaching, she must be in terrible torment, Jean thought, shocked.
"W-why now?" the young woman finally asked in a strangled voice.
"We want to help you, Nene," Jean said, then added when she didn't respond further. "Yuki Tamagawa."
Nene gasped, twisting over. "How'd you know?" Her eyes were wide and dark with fear, her face drawn and pale. She'd been crying, her eyes were rimmed in red.
"Professor Xavier has many resources," Jean explained. Surprised by the flare of warmth she felt from the other woman at the name, she went on. "He was worried about you, Nene. You left the School without a word to anyone. And about then he received an official report of your death. We didn't know to look for you."
"I'm so sorry," Nene gasped, her eyes filling with tears. "He was so nice to me but I . . . I just couldn't stay. I had to go . . . go h-home. Then I couldn't and they found me - he found me." Jean shielded again at the wild flair of horror and pain that accompanied her hurried words. Then Nene lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Jean, her face buried against her shoulder crying wildly.
"You called us, Nene, we came to help," Jean said soothingly, holding the other woman gently. She shot a look at the door where Scott was peering curiously inside. Something horrible had happened after she'd made her mental call - they had found her. She was obviously still alive, but badly shaken. "Can you move on your own?" Jean asked cautiously. "Or should I have Scott help you?"
"I-I can walk," Nene sobbed, drawing back self-consciously from Jean to fold her arms across her chest and dart a fearful look at the man in the doorway. He had a complex visor on his face now and wore a black leather suit similar to Jean's but she remembered him as the quiet one who wore red glasses. Scott Summers. The leader of the X-Men. He smiled at her reassuringly.
"I can carry you if you need help," he said quietly. More information trickled into her numb mind. He was Cyclops. The one with the eye beams. A strong power that even the big man feared.
"N-no," Nene said, sliding off the bed. Jean looked at her in some surprise. The girl looked very different from the ratty waif she remembered. She was wearing a slim business suit and skirt with a plain blouse underneath. Practical flats on her feet. With her wild hair cut short, she looked much older that she'd appeared at the mansion. What exactly was the Brotherhood planning to use her for? Jean thought anxiously. She swayed a little and Jean grabbed at her arm to hold her up. Nene flinched back.
"I'm okay," she whispered. "Let's just go." Jean led the way out to the hall. With a nod, Scott turned and started to lead the way back to the courtyard where the jet waited.
* * * * *
Eyes white with power, Storm flew through the wide hallways, the air focused to support her. The hopping one was ahead of her somewhere. The round corridor opened abruptly into a strange bowl-like area; a small lake filled the space with a truncated tower in the center of it. She flew out into the open air, looking around warily. There were some dead trees to the side, and she turned her attention there just as a long, shining tendril shot toward her. She ducked swiftly. Her prior experience battling Toad had prepared her for his sneak attacks. His tongue missed her arm and snapped back. Thunder crashed above them as she circled the open area.
She caught sudden motion out of the corner of her eye. His tongue again. She flew up, away from the slimy appendage, her arms spread to the wind. Tilting her head back, she summoned more wind, sending it spinning wildly around the arena. Toad hopped out from his hiding place, before the winds pulled him out, leaping back to the corridor. A bolt of lightning struck the place he had been, just missing him. She could hear him cursing at the closeness of the strike. He leaped swiftly away down the corridor and she followed, close on his heels.
She lost him briefly, unable to take turns as easily as he. But she was soon behind him again, watching his squat form recede down a new, wider corridor. It opened out into a small valley open to the sky. She flew out of the tunnel, wary of ambush. Two helicopters sat there, a sleek passenger model with government markings and a heavy, clunky cargo model. Both machines' engines had started. He was obviously in one of them, intending to make his escape. But which? She paused, considered striking them with lighting, but feared to ignite the fuel. It would be a last resort. She landed gracefully, approaching the cargo helicopter warily. The sliding cargo bay door was open, the interior dark. She summoned wind behind her just as a slender tongue shot out and snagged her wrist.
The tongue didn't grip her firmly as she had wind behind her, slowing it's advance, but it caught her enough to yank her off balance and toward the cargo bay. She tumbled across the threshold, hands spread wide, stomach crashing into the ledge, driving her breath out of her lungs. A harsh sound, then cool goo struck the side of her face, splashing across her mouth. It missed her nose. She could still breathe, unlike she'd been told happened to Jean. She clawed at the stuff, gasping, but it was already setting on her skin, hard and plastic. The powerful tongue wrapped around one arm again, yanking her across the cabin and into the wall. Solidified goo shattered off her face at the force of the impact.
Stunned, she collapsed to the helicopter's deck, the winds dying around her.
* * * * *
Sabretooth bounded away from him with a triumphant laugh, leaving him momentarily stunned from the blow that had split his scalp open. Warm blood matted his hair, but he knew the wound was already closed. Not too much blood loss. He'd heard the sound of the call from the communicator earpiece in Sabretooth's ear, if not the actual words. From Toad, linking them up, plotting escape. Cursing, Wolverine hauled himself up, shaking his head to clear blood from the corner of his eye, his attention fixed on his receeding opponent.
Helicopters. Two He could hear them; one idling, another with the engine winding up. Sabretooth snarled at him again as they entered the wide space, then turned and sprinted away. He was heading for the reved chopper, Wolverine thought dimly. He wouldn't escape. Wolverine followed, running flat out, his claws extended, ready to leap on his foe's back. Motion inside the chopper's cabin distracted him. Pale hair. Black cape. Familiar scent. Ororo! She staggered, obviously dazed, toward the rolling door just as Sabretooth leaped aboard. He bowled her over, driving her back into the cargo hold as the chopper lifted clear of the deck.
Wolverine leaped for the chopper skids, but the slight hesitation had cost him. He missed the skid, scraping it with a claw before falling heavily to the ground, rolling over and over again before stopping himself. Looking up he snarled out a curse. The wind from the chopper's rotors pounded down on him. Sabretooth leaned out the door laughing at him as he grabbed the handle of the sliding door and slammed it shut.
Ororo was inside!
He heard the sound of running feet from one of the corridors behind him, several of them. Cyclops appeared first, hand at his visor. "Don't! 'Ro's inside!" he heard himself shout. Cyclops dropped his hand, grunting sharply in irritation. They all looked up as the helicopter rose swiftly higher. Toad saluted them mockingly from the cockpit. Logan howled after the departing helicopter like a piece of himself was being ripped away.
Three people, he'd heard. Jeannie came running up, a wary someone else trailing behind her. Logan whirled and lunged over, hope flaring when he recognized the scent. The teleporter. He grabbed the girl's shoulders, smelling blood and fear, startling a shriek of panic from her. Jean immediately pushed between them, batting Logan's hands away.
"Don't bully her, Logan," Jean snapped, her eyes flashing. He snarled back, his face dark with frustration and rage. "She can get me up there - to the chopper."
"I don't know," the girl said, her eyes wide. "It's moving around a lot." Logan glared at Nene around Jean's disapproving form, his expression savage. "He's got Storm. Send me up there!"
The young woman shivered, her face pale. "I-I'll try." She looked quickly from the rapidly rising chopper back to Logan, then at the chopper again, her face intent, her teeth imbedded in her lower lip. A final deep breath, then she reached toward him.
No flash, no bang, he was simply stumbling forward inside the cabin of the chopper. In front of him loomed Sabretooth's broad back. His enemy was bent forward over a silently struggling black-clad form.
"What da bloody 'ell?" Toad's shocked exclamation came from the cockpit as the sudden addition of Logan's weight registered on the airframe, tilting the chopper dangerously to the side.
Sabretooth whirled, dropping Ororo to the deck. With a snarl he slashed out at Logan. Leather and skin over his chest parted, blood ran, but the pain only spurred him on. Gleaming claws snapped free. He blocked the next blow, landing a solid one of his own. Sabretooth roared in pain and rage, closing in.
Recovering control, Toad jerked the helicopter to the side, intending to toss Logan off balance. Sabretooth lost his footing instead, aided by a slender leg twisted deliberately between his feet. Logan followed him over, slashing at him, trying to wear him down.
Behind them, Ororo climbed unsteadily to her feet, reaching for the door handle. If she could get outside, this contest would be more equal. Logan wouldn't feel constrained to protect her and she could force the chopper down. Toad, watching the battle in his mirrors, jerked the controls again. She caught the latch as she fell, freeing the door, but tumbled back into the cabin when the deck lurched violently beneath her.
Logan had pinned Sabretooth beneath him, and was raining blows on him. With a roar, Sabretooth drew up a knee and, as the helicopter swayed back again, tossed Logan into the gap between the cabin and the cockpit. Toad looked away from his flying long enough to wrap his tongue around Logan's throat and arms. And squeezed. Logan gasped for breath. On his back, losing air and unable to work his arms free to slash at the sticky appendage, Logan felt his world darkening. Toad laughed thickly.
Ororo tried to move toward him to help, but Sabretooth backhanded her, sending her reeling against the partially-open door. It slammed open under her weight, sending her tumbling toward open air. Sabretooth snagged her cape with lightning fast reflexes. The cape's attachment points were across her shoulders and at her wrists, which was a good thing or the jerk would have broken her neck. As it was she gave a high cry of pain as her arms were wrenched up behind her. Sabretooth looked at her, dangling from his grip, her legs outside the door, her body bent painfully forward with her arms held out behind her, and laughed with anticipatory delight.
"Not good enough," the big man purred, leaning toward her. "Scream for real." He caught her hair in his other hand and arched her neck painfully back. Then recoiled. Her eyes had gone white.
The helicopter shuddered and dropped like a rock as a blast of wind smashed down upon it from above. In the cockpit, Logan took advantage of Toad's distraction at the controls to work a hand steadily down. A high-pitched scream reverberated through the cabin as he sliced a good portion of Toad's tongue away. Ignoring the injured pilot, Logan lunged back into the cabin, desperate to reach Ororo, alone with Sabretooth.
The cabin was empty. The sliding door rolled sluggishly in its track as the helicopter rocked.
"Ro!" he shouted, diving for the door. He shoved it open and stared down in agony. A huge hand shot up and latched onto his ankle. Metal flashed on his hands. A quick swipe. A fountain of blood. Sabretooth gave a roar of pain and drew back his mangled hand, clutching desperately to the undercarriage of the chopper with the other arm. He bared his teeth at Logan, who looked past him, oblivious.
There was no sign of her.
"Ro!" he bellowed again, searching the air desperately. He saw no sign of a body falling toward the sea, no flash of stark black and white below him. Nothing. Rage swept through him. Blind, killing rage. The second set of claws snapped free and he crouched in the doorway, his lips lifted in a snarl as he prepared to dive at the wounded Sabretooth below him. The helicopter pitched heavily, losing altitude. He braced himself in the doorway to keep from being tossed out the door. No sense missin' the bastard, he reasoned dimly through the red haze of hatred.
"Logan!" And she was there, above them, poised like an angel in the air, her torn cape fluttering wildly in the winds that held her aloft. He stared at her as if she was salvation itself for an instant. He wasn't used to thinking she could fly.
Then he clamped his teeth together and snarled, his attention re-focusing with lightning speed on Sabretooth below. No more threats to his woman. He'd take him out for real this time. He caught the bottom of the doorway and swung himself out, boots scrabbling on the landing skid. Sabretooth swiped at him with his maimed hand - the blood had already stopped flowing - but missed. Wolverine was holding the sill with one hand, the other drawn back to strike when the chopper lurched sickeningly again.
Logan bounced free of the skid, sailing out into the air. The whirling rotor grazed his calf making him curse in pain, but he dropped past the tumbling chopper before it could strike him again. He caught a confused view of the chopper nearly on it's side, the snarling Sabretooth somehow still clinging to the undercarriage as it spun wildly out of control, heading away from him. He let his claws snap back inside. No use now.
Crap. He was in free-fall. With no 'chute.
But he'd forgotten his goddess.
Slender arms wrapped tightly around him, long hair blew in his face. "I have you," she cried, her face against his, her eyes white with power. They tumbled wildly through the air together.
"No!" he yelled, struggling against her hold. "Too heavy!"
She didn't answer, her eyes blind, her hair crackling. Wind slammed into them from below, driving the breath from both of them, slowing their descent. But after a sickening hesitation, they continued to fall. The glittering ocean came ever closer. Terminal velocity? he thought hazily. Or had she slowed them enough? He tried to push her away, but her arms were tight around his chest.
"Don't fight me," she cried, once she recovered her air.
"Let me go!" he snarled, nearly in a panic. She wouldn't die for him if he could help it. He'd survive. Probably.
"Never!" Winds slammed into them over and over again, buffeting them from side to side, battering them as they fell. Resigned, he locked his arms as tightly about her as hers were about him, forced to trust in her power, her skill. He had no sense of direction, no sense of distance. His vision was useless as the wind pounded his eyes closed. How far to the sea? He could smell it, briny and sharp. And barely under it the subtle scent of her.
A final gust pounded them hard. He yelled as it slammed them up, bringing them nearly to a halt, then they fell again. He caught a shimmer out of the corner of his watering eye. The sea! He twisted desperately and took the impact on his own head and shoulders. As soon as he felt the water close over his head, he shoved her back. She fell away, torn back by their entry into the water which had been eased down to the force of a high-dive by her buffeting winds.
But he still had his damned metal skeleton to contend with.
* * * * *
Goddess, he had pushed her away! The water was cold and hard around her. She struggled to find her direction, the surface. There! With a few strong strokes, Ororo broke through, gasping for air.
Looking around frantically, she saw no sign of Logan. The impact would naturally push him down, and he lacked the buoyancy to come back up on his own. She was taking deep breaths, saturating her lungs in preparation for diving back under when a barrel-like object splashed into the water near her. With a loud pop, the canister split and a yellow raft began to inflate beside her, long lifelines dangling off the sides.
In the peril of their plunge to the sea, she had forgotten they weren't alone. Looking up she saw the black jet hovering above, two frantic figures waving from the open hatch. Grabbing one of the trailing lines, she dived under the surface. Bubbles spiraled up from the depths, giving her a clue to his location. She dove deep, begrudging her boots, her gloves, her tattered cape. They slowed her, but she didn't dare stop to remove them. There was no time. The bubble trail led on until she saw his pale face below. He was laying wide, trying to halt his slow descent. She stroked hard to make his side, concerned the line would not be long enough. Then she caught his hand. He looked up, his eyes stark with fear - for her.
She tugged hard on the line, pulling it into his range. He flailed for it, missing at first as his air began to fail. She caught his leather-clad arm, winding the line securely around it, knotting it off tightly. Then she bent down and put her lips over his, parting them desperately. She breathed out into his mouth, sharing her air. He pushed her angrily away. She left him then, following the pale line up, up to the raft and air above.
She broke the surface with a tremendous gasp. Climbing heavily into the raft she was nearly spent, but driven by fear. He was still down there. Leaning back over, she started pulling up on the line. A loud splash sounded behind her, but she didn't turn her attention away from her task, tugging desperately on the line. It came up with stubborn slowness. He was heavy, so very heavy. But she had to try. Someone clambered clumsily into the raft behind her, then fell down beside her. Nene.
"He on the end of that?" the girl asked.
"Yes, help me," Ororo gritted out, her face set. Nene looked at the line, then over her shoulder, up and all around.
"Watch out!" she called and put her hands on the line. Suddenly it was gone. Ororo lunged forward desperately, thinking she'd dropped it, but Nene caught at her cape, stopping her from going over the side. A heavy weight slammed into the center of the raft, bouncing them wildly. She whirled. Logan lay gasping and coughing on the raft, the end of the lifeline still tied clumsily around his arm.
"Bright Lady be praised!" she cried, falling toward him. He coughed on, sucking in air as he caught her up against him, his arm hard around her.
"Gotcha," the girl cried. Nene bounced down beside them.
Logan regained his breath, pulling Ororo down on top of him and crushing his mouth over hers. The kiss was savage and punishing. The girl made a surprised sound behind them, shifting away in embarrassment. He broke the kiss finally, his hands clamped to the sides of her head.
"Told ya to leave me!" he snarled at her, glaring into her eyes. She glared right back, her lips throbbing. She tasted blood.
"Don't be a fool," she snapped back, wrenching free of his hold on her face. He caught her in his arms, keeping her close to him.
"Hey!" the girl Nene said, indignant. "We saved your life."
"Butt the hell out," Logan snarled, shooting her a killing glare. She recoiled as if he'd struck her. Ororo pulled completely away from him then. "Logan," she said reproachfully, turning to Nene, then froze in shock. Nene was wearing only a wet blue cotton blouse and blood had soaked into it in long streaks. Weeping, angry scratches could be seen on her bare thighs under the tails of the shirt. "You're injured!"
Nene glanced down at herself, seemingly unconcerned. "Yeah, they opened when I jumped out of the plane." Ororo leaned toward her, intent on examining her, but Nene pushed her hands away.
"I'm okay, they're superficial."
"What happÖ?" Ororo began. Logan grunted behind her, cutting her off, seemingly in control of himself again. "Creed, 'Ro. Leave her be."
Surprised by his consideration, Nene shot him a wary look. He gave her a small nod, then swiveled around to look at the still-hovering jet. Jean was waving at them from the open door, a rope and lifting harness dangling from a retractable winch beside her.
"Let's go," Logan growled.
* * * * *
The concealed hatch closed silently and completely over the top of the jet. Scott ran his post-flight shutdown routine carefully and methodically as they waited for the huge fans to finish removing jet wash from the hanger air. Nene sat beside Jean, her face buried in the blanket they'd wrapped around her shaking shoulders. She'd been silent ever since they'd winched her aboard. Ororo sat in her accustomed seat as they waited, a blanket around her shoulders as well. Logan had strapped himself in the back, giving up his seat to the teleporter. He'd already released his restraints, his wet leather suit stripped down to his waist. He was pacing impatiently back by the hatch.
//We're fine, Professor,// Jean replied to his urgent mental inquiry. //But as we feared, Nene was discovered after she contacted us.//
//How badly injured is she?// he asked, his mental voice thin with concern. Jean tried to suppress her surprise - he was her mentor and a far better telepath - but his preoccupation saved her embarrassment.
//Physically, not badly. She even helped save Logan and Ororo,// she thought back, reluctant to continue but she knew only the truth would serve. //I'm afraid Sabretooth may have raped her, Charles.//
A peculiar surge of static back through the link made her wince, then the Professor's mental voice came calmly again. //Then we'd best get her to the infirmary as soon as possible.//
"Scott?" Jean asked quietly. "Are we clear yet?" Scott glanced at an indicator on his panel and nodded to her. Logan immediately opened the hatch and let down the steps.
"Need help with her?" he asked Jean, surprising her. Jean shook her head, indicating the withdrawn woman. Ororo stood up too. Scott finished his final shutdown.
Logan leaped quickly down the steps, moving off to get something to help get the girl down to the infirmary that wouldn't involve some guy carrying her. That was the last thing the poor kid should have to put up with right now, he thought grimly. The main door opened and the Professor's chair rolled smoothly inside.
"There's a folding wheelchair in the emergency supply alcove outside the hanger door, Logan," the Professor said coolly, his attention focused beyond him. Logan shot him a narrowed glare, but went looking anyway. Ororo and Jean helped Nene out of the plane, bracing her between them. She moved under her own power, but allowed herself to be led. She seemed small and somehow insubstantial, as if all her will had drained away in the life raft after Logan snarled at her.
The Professor stopped near the doorway, watching his protÈgÈs help the young woman over to him. Logan wheeled the folding chair back to them quickly and Jean helped Nene sit in it.
"You're safe here, Nene, " the Professor said, putting a hand briefly on her knee. Nene looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. The blanket covered her head, shoulders and body, revealing only trembling hands and bare, scratched legs. She looked like a frightened child.
"I'm so sorry I left, Professor," she said softly, a catch in her voice, her face pale. "Can you forgive me?"
Trying to conceal his surprised, he smiled gently back at her. "Of course, my dear. Now, let's get you checked out. Jean?" Despite still being dressed in battle gear, Jean took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it alongside the Professor's out the door and down the wide hallway.
Logan and Ororo stared after them, silent. As they watched, Nene reached out toward the Professor, who took her hand in his own. Ororo turned to Logan, raising a slender brow thoughtfully at the sight, then walked off after them. Logan made to follow her, but a voice stopped him.
"Logan," Scott called, his face grim under his battle visor. "Later, I'd like you to meet me in the Danger Room. We need to discuss combat protocol."
"Protocol?" Logan gave a wolfish grin. "Call it what you want, Cyke. I'll be there."
"See that you are." Then Cyclops stalked away after the rest of them. Logan glanced around at the cooling jet, shrugged and left the hanger, the big door sliding closed automatically behind him.
* * * * *
The young woman had latched desperately onto Charles' hand and Jean didn't have the heart to make her let go. With her telekinesis and her own hands, she managed to get Nene up on the examination table. Prying the blanket off of her was a more difficult proposition.
"I've got to treat these cuts, Nene," Jean said gently. //Charles, please?// The Professor smiled gently at Nene, his strong hand warm in her grip. She watched him from half-closed eyes, a faint smile on her face. She felt safer already, until Jean tried to pull the blanket away.
"No," she protested weakly, gripping the blanket like a shield. Jean shot an exasperated look at the Professor. He looked down at Nene. //Let Jean help you, Nene,// he soothed her mentally. //I'll be here with you.// She sighed, allowing her eyes to drift closed and released her death-grip on the blanket, but not the grip on his hand. The hollow sound of boots, accompanied by the unaccustomed squishing of damp leather, approached. Jean looked up at Ororo, her eyes wide with concern.
"Ororo, what are you doing here? You should go get warm and dry," Jean said, her voice brisk and professional. "We've got everything under control here.
"If you're sure?" Ororo said wearily, her normally smooth hair hanging around her in ratty tangles. Jean took a few steps toward her friend, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her around. "A hot shower, and rest. Doctor's orders."
"Oh, it sounds heavenly," Ororo said with a small attempt at a smile before she turned away. "I'll come back later to check on her progress." Jean nodded absently, her attention already back on her patient.
* * * * *
Ruined leather uniform left in a heap on the floor, Ororo stepped gratefully into the running shower. The sea had been cold, but she hadn't noticed at the time. Her only concern had been for Logan.
Hot water cascaded over her sore body as she leaned wearily against the cool tile of the wall. She was exhausted. Her eyes slid closed as she tried to stop her tired mind from dwelling on the many things that could have gone wrong. What had possessed her to take off alone after Toad? She was usually cooler than that. And following Logan into the ocean? If Nene hadn't come to help, she might not have been able to get him to the surface in time. She doubted even Logan could recover from lungs filled too long with sea water.
The bathroom door opened. Her eyes flew open and through the wavy glass of the shower door she watched a dark shape enter. Logan. Over the sound of water she heard him undress, heard his own tattered uniform hit the floor. Then he was opening the door and sliding in beside her.
"Hell," he hissed as the water struck him. "It's boilin', darlin'. How do you stand it?" He reached around her and adjusted the water to his liking. She let him. With his arm near the handles, he looked over at her, puzzled by her silence. She was staring at him hungrily, memorizing his face, his form. There were no scars, no bruises from his savage battle with Sabretooth. He'd healed them all long before. He was feral and beautiful.
"'Ro?" he said quietly. She raised a trembling hand and ran it across his damp beard, around his head, cupped his neck and pulled him down to her. Her lips melted against his. His own arms closed around her, dragging her away from the tile and against his hard chest. They kissed long and deep, their tongues fencing, their mouths eager. She moaned when he finally pulled away to move his mouth hot over her face, her neck, her ear.
He held her tight against him, the warm water streaming over them both. She met his dark gaze with her own ardent one, a wicked smile touching her lips. Then he was growling into her neck as her hands streaked over his back, his hips, melding him closer, savoring the vibrant energy inside him. She dropped her head back, her hair heavy with water, baring herself to him. Her breath left her in a long gasping sigh as he pressed his lips to the pulse thundering in her throat.
Holding him again when she'd feared him lost was almost more than she could bear. Her heart soared as her hands caressed. Words would dismay him, distract him, drive him away. Her heart knew the truth, was showing him the truth; someday he would be ready to hear the words as well.
He pulled her head up again with a hard hand in her hair, his mouth opening over hers, devouring her. Her lover. Her savage mate. The other part of her soul.
* * * * *
He never could sleep after a big battle. Logan sat on the edge of Ororo's bed, naked, watching her sleep. She was exhausted. He'd carried her out of the shower - after a passionate time spent engrossed in each other - and laid her on the bed. She'd watched him from under slitted lids as he carefully dried her long hair with a big towel. Her hand had laid, warm and possessive, on his thigh as he worked. It still rested there, curled now in sleep.
His glance raced over her again. There was a knot on her forehead the size of a walnut, a spreading bruise across her cheek. Various other bruises and scratches peppered her body from her tussles with Sabretooth and Toad. A low growl started in his chest at the sight. He stifled it when she shifted slightly in her sleep. She'd been injured fighting alongside him.
Pride and fear warred within him. She was tough. She was stubborn. She was incredibly powerful. But when it came down to it, she was just a woman, half his size. Somehow, she'd gone toe-to-toe with Sabretooth again and come out alive. And managed to save his own sorry skin in the process.
She scared the shit out of him. Mostly because he wasn't sure how to live without her anymore. For all the years he could remember he'd been alone. Then, because of one moment of kindness, he'd found himself dropped smack in the middle of a big family. The fact that something inside him seemed to crave it annoyed him.
He needed to go north, to find out who was willing to send expensive mercenaries after him, but he was reluctant to leave her behind. It would drive him crazy with worry to imagine her going into battle without him. The mansion wasn't safe, not by any means, as he'd so blithely assumed a few months ago. The Professor had his own enemies; his visiblity as a mutant supporter made him a target for extremists and fanatics. Plus there was no guarantee that Sabretooth and Toad were actually dead. Summers had lost track on the helicopter while holding station over the liferaft. They hadn't found any wreckage.
When she woke up again, they'd have to talk.
* * * * *
Restless, Charles Xavier had found himself rising from his own bed to work. But he'd been unable to concentrate. He hadn't bothered with excuses as he found himself steering his wheelchair back down to the lower levels. The girl was probably asleep. It was late and they'd had a long, trying day. Jean had pulled the curtains around the bed, giving her a little bit of privacy in the corner of the big lab, wanting her monitored and on a medicated I.V. drip for the night.
He heard the soft sounds of crying as he entered the lab. They were hastily stifled when the sound of the door reached her. His chair made little noise as it crossed the smooth floor.
"Nene," he said gently, before parting the curtain with his hand. "May I come in?"
"Yeah, I guess," she replied, her voice clogged with tears. She was lying huddled in the center of the bed, a pillow clutched tightly in her arms. Her dark eyes were wide and wet with tears. With her newly-short and uniformly black hair, she didn't look quite as young as she once had.
"How are you feeling? Any pain?" he asked as he stopped his chair near the bed.
"No, Dr. Grey gave me a shot," she replied, closing her eyes and turning her face deeper into the pillow. Hiding from him.
"You were very brave this morning, my dear," he said gently. "How did you know you could use that device to contact me?"
"Computer," she said. "Found information on it. On all of you."
"Really?" he said, raising a brow curiously. "Eric has a large installation there then?"
"It's a big place," she said with a nod, peeking over the pillow again. "Computer systems, satellite links, labs. Lots of techie stuff."
"And detailed files on us?" he asked calmly. What information had Eric gathered, hoarded over the years? And who would take it now that his henchmen had been driven off, or perhaps even killed? It was dangerous to leave the island abandoned. They'd have to return. Maybe even destroy it.
"Lots of files," she confirmed softly, her eye drifting closed, her desperate clutch on the pillow easing. As if his presence was enough to calm her. "Some I couldn't get to, but there were a bunch on the X-Men, the school, mutants all over the world. But mostly on you. I read a lot about you."
"Will you take me back there, Nene?" he asked her quietly, disturbed by this information. "Show me what you learned?" Her eyes opened briefly, absolute trust and love shining in their dark depths. He slammed his shields up tightly. She was young and had just survived a traumatic experience. She was bound to be confused for a while. He'd help her adjust, somehow.
"I'll do whatever you ask, Professor."
* * * * *
The borrowed X-Men uniform was comforting, somehow, like armor. At least she felt a little less exposed covered by the heavy black leather. It was one of Storm's extras and kind of loose about the hips and breast, but otherwise a fine fit. Almost like it belonged to her.
Wolverine and Cyclops had made certain the island was empty of enemies before they'd allowed the Professor to leave the jet. Jean and Storm had remained back to protect him, Nene shivering behind them still belted into her seat. But when he'd asked her, so courteously, if she'd show him around, she'd been unable to refuse.
Now the Professor directed his chair slowly into the island's computer room, his expression stern. She walked slightly behind him, wary and unhappy to be back. It wasn't as bad as she'd expected, to return here, not with the Professor beside her. He was staring thoughtfully at the vast amounts of information scrolling across the big screens. The systems were still absorbing international news, obviously automatic. Nene walked around him, intending to access the databanks.
"I wondered if you'd ever find this place, Charles." The strange voice came quietly from the speakers in the computer room, startling Nene. She jumped and retreated to the Professor's side. All the screens went abruptly dark and flickered back on with the image of a distinguished older man. He looked determined and somehow resigned. The Professor was frozen beside her, his gaze locked on the nearest screen.
"But knowing how clever you are, I had to plan for any eventuality. Unfortunately, we haven't settled our differences, because, if we had, you'd never see this recording." The man gave a pained half-smile, as if in memory of better days. "I can't let you have my secrets, Charles. Not all of them. So this island has been rigged for destruction. In memory of our friendship, I give you ten minutes to depart and clear the area. Don't linger, Charles, no matter how tempting it may be. You really don't have the time."
The man's wryly smiling image froze, then vanished from the screens and a countdown timer appeared. Ten minutes. Nine fifty-nine. Nine fifty-eight. Nene gulped, looking down at the Professor.
"We'd better go," he said, meeting her terrified gaze calmly. "He rarely bluffs."
//X-Men, the island is going to explode in less than ten minutes. Return to the plane.// His mental voice was as calm as his physical voice. She fought back her fear, vaguely ashamed of herself. The Professor turned his chair back toward the doorway, pausing for only a moment to look at the humming computers.
"So much brilliance lost to fear," he sighed, then left the room. Nene forced herself to walk calmly beside his slowly moving chair as they moved away from the computer room, hyper-aware of the silent clock ticking down behind them.
Wolverine appeared at a run, skidding around a corner with his wicked metal claws extended. "What'd ya trip?" he demanded glancing between Nene and the Professor.
"Eric programmed this place to destroy itself if I ever came here without him, Logan," the Professor said wearily. "Now we really must leave."
Wolverine glared at her suspiciously for a breathless instant, even though she'd been the one to pull his ungrateful ass out of the ocean, then nodded. His claws disappeared inside his bare hands with a peculiar scraping sound. She stared at his hands in morbid fascination. There was no blood, no wound. He was like Sabretooth that way. Her mouth went dry and she tried to swallow. He was one of the good guys. Ororo had feelings for him. He couldn't be all bad.
"C'mon then," he growled, jerking his head toward a sloping corridor on their left. "This is the easiest way."
"But this is faster," Nene countered, determined to overcome her fear, to help out rather than be a burden. She turned, took a deep breath and touched the Professor's wheelchair. The Professor and his wheelchair both disappeared. Wolverine whirled back, suspicious again. She reached toward him but he backed away.
"No way kid, I'd rather run. Let's go." He started off down the corridor, Nene hot on his heels.
//Nene,// the Professor's mind-voice held gentle reproach. //Warning me would have been courteous. You and Logan had best hurry.//
//Wait for us,// she thought back, knowing he'd pick it up. //We're coming home.//
All references to characters belonging to the X-Men Universe are (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, duplication or distribution of these materials in any form is expressly prohibited. No money is being made from this archive. All images are also (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities; they are not mine. This website, its operators and any content used on this site relating to the X-Men are not authorized by Marvel, Fox, etc. I am not, nor do I claim to be affiliated with any of these entities in any way.