Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men…but y'all already knew that. How Long Must I Suffer? by stormfreak Chapter One: Love Light in Flight "Logan!" Breathe. Breathe. Clear your mind. Make it all go away… "Logan, stop it!" WHAM! Whoo. That felt good. Little dizzy, but it's okay… "Somebody do something!" "Oh, mah Gawd!" "Logan! Stop dat! You gonna kill yo'self, homme!" What am I doing? I should be happy…she's going to be okay. Isn't she? She's gonna live, isn't she, Jeannie? I know you can hear me. You've been picking my brain all damn day. "Logan-" "Tell me she's gonna be okay!" Wolverine screamed, teetering on a berserker rage. "She's going to be fine! I keep telling you that! Now, calm down, Wolverine. Stop it! You're scaring everyone!" Wolverine took a deep breath and grabbed his forehead. "Jean, why isn't she awake?" "I don't have a clue, Logan. These things happen sometimes. But Ro's a trooper, Logan. You know that. She'll pull through." "She needs ya right now, Logan," Rogue interrupted. "Ya need t'go an' be with her when she wakes up." Logan sank to his knees. An unfamiliar tightening formed in his throat, and he felt his eyes begin to water. "She was bleedin' so bad, Jeannie…" "I know." Jean pulled Logan up and embraced him tightly. "I know. But she'll pull through…I know she will." She planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Now go. Go be with her when she wakes up." "Cuz she's gonna wake up," Rogue interjected. "An' yer gonna be some pissed if you're not there. Her, too." Logan took the scene in. Rogue, Jean, Gambit, and Cyclops were staring at him. He felt his entire body trembling. Those pesky tears were threatening to fall down his face, and he couldn't stop them. God knows if he were to break down bawling, these weren't the people he'd want to be around. He turned and ran up the hall. * Wolverine had spent a good deal of his life as an X-Man flirting with Storm. She was worthy to be ogled - nearly six feet tall with a tiny waist, gorgeous chocolate brown legs, shimmering ivory locks, and dazzling eyes of aquamarine. What made her different was the fact that she flirted back. Ororo Munroe was not a coy, soft-spoken eye-batting female. She radiated sensuality with just a toss of her hair, or a lick of her full lips. He had kissed those full lips quite a bit over the years, and he could remember every kiss. The scent of her hair, the curves of her body as they pressed against his own, the taste of her lips. But it had all been in good fun, nothing serious. She was always so radiant, so full of life. So when he passed by her room one night and heard her singing an ancient dirge song, he grew a little worried. Ororo had her dark days, same as every other X-Man, but she was far from suicidal. Still...Remy had just gone through the trial concerning the Morlock Massacre, and Rogue was a mess. With the team in disarray, Cyclops had chosen that moment to take a vacation, and Ororo was holding up the team on her own. Logan pushed open the door a crack and peered in. Ororo was dressed in a filmy negligee, sitting on the ledge and staring out the window. Her rich, alto voice sliced through the silence in the mansion. She was running a brush through her hair, and it shimmered like a waterfall in the moonlight. Logan couldn't remember how he wound up standing next to her, or pulling the brush from her hand, cutting off her song. She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her by pressing his lips to her own. And what started as a soft kiss in the moonlight turned into a deep kiss, with his lips sucking on her tongue. There would be no flirting this time. She began to tug at his shirt, his jeans, his hair. Her breathing became heavy as Wolverine's lips planted kisses on her neck. He ripped her offensive lingerie of her body, letting his lips and tongue roam across her bare breasts and stomach as her hands entwined locks of his hair. Somehow they wound up on Ororo's king sized bed. By this time, Wolverine was so erect he was in pain. Sweat was pouring off his face and chest as he crushed his lips against Storm's, kneading her large breasts with his hands. He was listening to her soft moans, her rapid breathing, when he should've been listening to her heart pounding. He was staring at her breasts when he should've been looking into her eyes. He was growling obscenities when he should've been whispering soft words to soothe her nerves. He was feeling her hands on his body when he should've felt her muscles tighten as her entire body grew tense. But most of all, he should've been paying attention to the storm. When Logan entered her, he was stunned to feel that she was tight to the point of ridiculousness. The lips of her were labia were pulled together as if forced. Ororo screamed - not out of ecstasy, but out of sheer, unmitigated pain. Her nails ripped down his back, drawing blood, but not as much blood as what was dripping down her thighs. A boom of thunder imploded a window, and Logan withdrew, but not before spewing inside of her. What in the hell- "Ro, are you okay?" Logan questioned, fumbling for a light. Storm had all but thrown herself out the bed at this time, and all Logan managed to see was her bare ass as it ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. Half a second later, he heard water running, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of her choking sobs… BOOM! Logan jumped out the bed and found himself staring at a wide-eyed Gambit. "Stormy!" he screamed, walking into her room and looking around for his sister. "What's wrong? Dis storm is a-" That's when he spotted Wolverine. "What t'hell are you doin' in heah?" he asked, confused. That's when his ruby eyes landed on Ororo's ripped nightgown on the floor. His eyes traveled to Logan's naked body, wrapped in a sheet from the waist down. The sheet was originally white, but now it was spotted with…Gambit gazed at a sanguine pool in the center of Ororo's bed just as Storm came out of her bathroom. "Remy, no!" she screamed, but Gambit wasn't listening. A card flew across the room and missed Logan by half an inch. "I'ma kill you!" Gambit screamed, lunging across Ororo's bed. "You sick, fuckin' bastard!" "Remy, stop it!" Ororo cried. Wolverine unsheathed his claws in self-defense, but Storm jumped in front of him. "No! You'll have to kill me before you touch him, Remy!" "I'ma-oh, mon dieu, Stormy-" Gambit groaned. "Dis-" he motioned to the blood-soaked sheet, "-dis is crazy…he hurt you an' I'ma kill his ass-" "Cajun," Wolverine interjected, "you got it all wrong-" "Shut up!" Gambit roared. He charged another card, but Ororo grabbed his hand before he could throw it. "Remy, please! This is all a misunderstanding. Please, you're only going to make it worse!" "Why were you screamin', Ro?" Ororo opened her mouth, then shut it again. The movement wasn't lost on Gambit. "Uh-huh, dat's what I thought," he muttered, lunging for Wolverine again. "Remy, damn it!" Storm conjured a wind that blew Gambit across the room. He hit his head and slumped to the floor. "Haven't you caused enough trouble for this team lately?" She folded her arms across her bare breasts, her eyes having whited over. "Leave. Now." "I can't believe you're defendin' dis fucker…" Gambit muttered, rising to his feet. He walked out the doorway and turned around. "Sorry 'bout your door, Stormy," he said, smiling softly, and left. Logan chose to speak. "Ororo, I'm so-" "Get out." That was plain enough. "Ororo, what happened?" "Get out. Now." Logan scrambled to grab his clothes as Storm began to strip her bed down. Tears were streaming down her face as she maneuvered around the room, refusing to meet Logan's eye. He felt so bewildered. He knew he hadn't raped her. So why do I feel like I did something wrong? Wolverine never had the chance to ask her. Storm was gone the next morning. * The tension between Wolverine and Gambit was thick as the days rolled by. Gambit was firmly convinced that Storm's leaving had to do with the incident. Without knowing the whereabouts of his padnat, he grew restless, snappish. Over time, Gambit and Rogue made up, and she did her best to comfort him. But it didn't bring Ororo back. The days melted into weeks, the weeks into months. Wolverine found himself looking at a calendar one morning and was stunned to see that Ororo had been gone for eighteen months to the day. No one had heard from her since - not a phone call, a note, nothing. "I don' even know if she's dead or alive," Wolverine heard Gambit sob to Rogue one night. "I hate him - I swear ta Gawd I hate that motherfucker...he ran my Stormy away..." It was apparent that the rest of the team felt the same way. He had endured months of getting the cold shoulder. Logan thought he would be able to take it, but when Storm was MIA for approximately twenty-four months, Wolverine couldn't stand it any longer. He backed Jean Grey in a corner one day. "I know you know where she is, Jean," Logan said before Jean could open her mouth. Jean fixed her ruby red lips in a smirk. "Perhaps," she said primly. "Well?" "Well, what?" "Well, tell me where she is!" "If she wanted to see you, Logan, she'd have come in contact with you." "Well, I ain't no damn telepath-" "Logan!" Jean folded her arms, exasperated. "Look, you really hurt Storm, okay? Physically and mentally." The barb made Logan wince, but his gaze didn't drop from Jean's. "She left here to get away from you. Can't you leave her be?" "I want to talk to her," Wolverine replied. "I want to know what I did that was so bad that she had to leave like this." "Logan! I swear, you men-" Jean stopped short at the confusion in Logan's eyes. "You...you really don't know, do you?" "Know what?" "I..." Jean sighed. "Look, Logan. Ro would kill me for this but...she's in Africa." "Well, shit Red!" Logan growled. "There are fifty-four countries in Africa. Can you be a little more specific?" Jean shook her head. "If you really want to find her, Logan, you will." * That was eight months ago. Since then, Wolverine had searched as much of Africa as his body and bank account would allow. The trip wasn't a total loss - Logan had seen quite a bit and learned a lot - but it hadn't brought him any closer to Storm than he was when he was in the States. The worse thing as, he sensed her, but he couldn't find her. It was almost as if she had left a country right before he came. Logan had dragged his exhausted body to a bar in Tanzania when he overheard a conversation: "...might have to pull him out of school. Ever since his teacher left a few months ago, he's been too pussy whipped to work on his grades," the barkeeper was groaning. "Welllll, can you blame him?" a customer said. "As sexy as she was, I wouldn't be able to concentrate, either! Of course, I wouldn't have concentrated with her there, either." Laughter. "But seriously...who's bright idea was it to have a teacher that young instructing high school children? Especially one that looked like her. Man, oh, man, what I wouldn't give to be a fly...just so I could sit on her head and feel that pretty white hair..." White hair. Logan's head jerked off the bar, but no one noticed. "Wonder where she got them blue eyes from, Sanka?" "Ahhh, who cares? Some horny schoolboys in Versailles will get to look at her now. Lucky French bastards - hey, man! You forgot your change!" the bartender yelled. But Wolverine was already gone. * St. Dominic's Finishing School for Ladies Versailles, France She was sitting on an old tree trunk, her platinum locks blowing in the wind. Her bare feet were visible despite being tucked underneath a flowing skirt. In her lap was a copy of The Little Prince; in front of her sat a group of attentive teenaged girls. Ororo's lecture was solely in French, and the sound of her voice speaking the beautiful language filled the air like a song. She was so beautiful, surrounded by Mother Nature, that for a moment Logan just stared at her. She was doing what she did best: teaching. And it was obvious that she was happy. In fact, Ororo looked so at peace that Wolverine was infuriated. How dare she! How dare she just up and leave and not tell anyone, and she's actually happy! But not for long... "ORORO!" Ororo's head jerked up, and her eyes locked with Wolverine's for the first time in nearly three years. She froze, and her smile faded from her lips. Ororo rose a hand to her delicate throat, and her lips began to tremble. It made Wolverine glad. He stalked in her direction, pushing through the small shrubs that were in his way. His eyes never left Ororo's face, which was beginning to register sheer terror. I'ma give this woman a piece of my - "YEOW!!!!!!" Logan grabbed his calf in sheer agony. Something had his leg in a death grip and refused to let go. He heard Storm scream something, but he was in too much pain to pay attention. He began to shake his leg wildly, but the furry creature from hell would not release his leg. Finally, its grip broke, and it flew away from Wolverine. It hit the ground, but stood right back up again, growling low in its throat, its mouth full of blood. To the horror of Ororo's class, Logan unsheathed his claws in fury, ready to kill whatever had bit him. But how could he, when the creature that was staring back defiantly at him had a wild head of snow-white curls and Logan's steely gray eyes? TBC