Between Your Sorrow and Your Joy
By Yasmin M.

Disclaimer: Every character here belongs to Marvel and not to me, so please don't sue because I'm not making any money off 'em.

Rated PG for some mild sexual content. And with all those advanced warnings, if you insist on reading don't come crying to me complaining that I sowed the seeds of sin in your mind, 'kay? This story is dedicated to Indigo, for the inspiration and her persistence. ;) Thanks also goes to her and Sara for beta-reading. Please don't archive this story without permission, as I'm not planning on submitting it to any archive save Indigo's. Feedback is much appreciated!

"You hate Sarah because you can't control her, an' it's a blow t'your ego!" he accused, fists clenched.

"Do you think I would be so petty?" Her tone was eeriely quiet, almost contemplative. She wanted to scream, to shout, to make him understand, but she was so tired... tired of the bickering among the X-Men, tired of Marrow's presence, a constant reminder of her failure as a leader. Goddess help me, I am tired of being alone in the crowd.

Only her profile had been visible to him as she looked out at the lake, but he saw the lines of tension around her eyes. He had been prepared for her anger, for an outburst of disdainful recriminations. He had even been prepared to see her vent her fury with a tempestuous cascade of lightning bolts. But he did not expect the look of pain and betrayal that flashed across her face, mere seconds before it was replaced by her customary cool mask. He knew then that he had gone too far.

"On the anniversary of the Mutant Massacre, Marrow decided that for every Morlock who died, an upworlder would be killed. Her victims were not soldiers or fighters, but defenseless civillians. She further demonstrated her disregard for life when she risked hundreds with a bomb attached to her heart, just so she could appease her vengeance." Her lips tightened, and he remembered the price she had had to pay.

"But you are right," she admitted softly. "It behooves us to extend our hands to help, even if Marrow is likely to cut them off." She looked as if she wanted to add something else, but turned without a word to fly back to the mansion, long hair slithering around her waist.

"Wait, don't go! Ah'm... ah'm sorry. It's just..." He had grabbed her arm, arresting her movement. "When ah was with X-Force, ah didn't just know exactly what they were capable of. Ah knew them -- ah know who they are. Here, ah'm a stranger, an' a kid at that. Ah've been here a year, and ah still feel as if ah'm gonna trip over secrets everywhere ah turn. Sometimes, ah don't think ah understand y'all. Ah sure don't understand you."

Slender fingers lightly touched his grip. "Do you trust me? Enough to put yourself in my hands?"

"Yes." But there was hesitation in his voice.

"Then permit me to show you who I am," she said. "Tonight, my friend, you will learn how it feels to ride the wind."

They soared through the chill air like a pair of birds-of-prey, skimming over the taller trees. The starry sky, broken here and there with gloomy clouds, was a sylvan background against which the two figures cavorted in a dance reserved only for those who know how it was to fly. The white-haired woman led the dance, confident in her mastery of the power to control the wind. They spun in a slow corkscrew loop around a misty wisp, and flew upwards, up and up until they were backlit by the crescent moon.

Ororo was the goddess now, with the sky as her domain and the elemental forces of the weather as her might. She was truly a child of the sky -- majestic and ever-changing, dark for a while and then touched with the rich colours of the sunset next. Yet, mercurial as her mood became, there remained, always, an undercurrent of stability. It was the same impression of stability that the sky gave; the feeling of always being there when you open the window and look up.

With a flash of insight, Sam knew why she asked Logan to confront Sarah; her relationship with the Morlock girl was too personal, too hostile. Logan could keep his cool in a fight with Marrow and end it without fatality, but Ororo's control was more likely to slip and kill her. Too bad it didn't work, he thought, watching her. Exhiliration was clear on her sculpted features, the passion she sought to hide open for all the world to see. He had always assumed that he knew her hopes and motivations, but in truth he did not. He respected her as Storm, leader of the X-Men, but of Ororo Munroe the human he was woefully ignorant.

His mutant power gave him the gift of flight, but never like this. He had never known what it was like to command the wind, to feel it obey him like a living creature. Everything was so alive. They went into a gentle downward loop, the air roaring around them like a distant tiger. Twinkling stars seemed to sing their benediction, joined in chorus by the teeming night life.

If Ororo was born of the sky, Samuel Guthrie was a true son of the earth. Dependable, honest, a strong foundation upon which empires were built. While the sky was lit with a brilliant aurora, the earth lent its quiet support, preventing the awe-struck humans from plummeting through space. Sometimes overlooked and taken for granted, it was easy to forget that the earth was never really stable in the first place. Beneath its inscrutable facade, plates shifted and molten rock flowed restlessly. It was so with Sam -- under the relatively conventional physique was the sharp mind of a tactician and a leader, one who was taught by a veteran soldier from the future.

She flashed him an unexpectedly mischievious smile -- She should smile more often, he thought -- and pointed down. It was the only warning he got before she grabbed his hand and abruptly went into a tailspin, heading straight for the lake where they first started.

"We're gonna hit the lake! Ororo, stop!" Sam shouted. The wind whipped back his blond hair and sent chilly fingers under his jacket as he tugged at her hand, trying to catch her attention. She ignored him, and instead increased her speed as they neared the still surface of the lake. His eyes widened, blue irises darkening.

"Yaaaaaaaaargh!!!"

Barely five inches above the surface, Ororo changed her trajectory by ninety degrees. She flew in break-neck speed across the lake before going up again, the tips of her bare toes just touching the water. The younger man, who had stopped breathing for the last minute or so, let go of her hand and blasted off where he could catch his breath. Curses ran through his stunned mind as he looked up at the woman...

... who was laughing her head off. Her silky hair swirled around her face as her body shook with mirth, barely held aloft by the wind she commanded. She looked beautiful, alive, and very unlike the dignified, humourless goddess he thought he knew. As he watched, she spun in a playful pirrouette and flew off, still laughing. A mocking wink was sent his way.

Sam grinned suddenly. Ah'm not givin' up that easy, Ororo, he thought, activating the kinetic energy that enabled him to fly. The noise caught her attention, and her lips parted slightly as she realized his intention. With a wave and another mischievious smile, the virtual typhoon she created carried her up into the night sky.

The wind-rider was more agile, with a finer control, but he was faster. She led him through a series of loops and spins in the forest of clouds, taunting him with her nearness and yet staying just out of reach. A persistent man, she thought, impressed. He not only managed to keep up with her, but was forcing her to be more creative in eluding him. She flew down into the woods, tucking away a smug smile as she wondered exactly how he could possibly follow her here. Weaving gracefully through the branches, she finally resurfaced into the open over the lake, heralded by a shower of leaves and disturbed birds.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, momentarily startling her into losing control. But he was prepared for it, and a burst of energy kept them from plummetting to the lake until she could regain her control of the wind.

"Ah did learn somethin' from Cable, y'know," Sam laughed, still holding her.

"I would expect no less from you," Ororo answered. She was slightly put-out by the fact that he outdid her, but the feeling transmuted into amusement and... contentment? She made no effort to leave the circle of his arms, leaning into his warmth.

Together, they watched the mansion, bright and distant in the darkness. A fortress of strength in times of madness and hatred. A fortress with cracks on its walls, crumbling little by little every day. So much has happened lately -- changes were wrought into the X-Men, sweeping away the status quo and installing in its place something unfathomable and strange. More tears than laughter now, more anger than the camaderie which had sustained them through times of sorrow.

Sam broke the silence first.

"Ah remember readin' somethin' that goes..." he frowned, casting his mind back to the past, and quoted, "Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And t'selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. An' how else can it be? T'deeper that sorrow carves into your being, t'more joy you can contain. Is not t'cup that holds your wine t'very cup that was burned in t'potter's oven? An' is not t'lute that soothes your spirit, t'very wood that was hollowed with knives?"

Tabitha. Professor Xavier. Scott.

"Ah don't remember the rest."

Ororo laughed softly. "I do. It was Khalil Gibran who wrote that. The rest of the quote is: 'When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given your sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you, "Joy is greater than sorrow,' and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."'"

Remy. Charles. Scott.

She turned in his arms, tucking back a blond lock behind his ear. "'But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that other is asleep upon your bed. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.'"

Cobalt met electric-blue. "Sometimes, it feels like the scales're always tipped against us," he said in a hushed, sad voice.

"I know," she answered, pulling him into a tight hug.

Time seemed to stop as they drew comfort from each other's embrace. Focusing only on the tentative bond that had formed between them, the low hum of the night went unheeded, as did the chill of the air. The bond vibrated with tension, but not the same tension that pervaded the atmosphere for the past few days. This was lighter, less definable, bringing with it a quickening of the blood.

She acted on the nebulous feelings first, touching his lips with hers in a gentle kiss. Like spring rain turning into a torrent, the kiss grew fiercer as he responded with fervour. Sam stroked the sleek skin of her back, feeling the muscles contract under his touch. Sighing softly, she ran her hands up his thighs, and enjoyed his gasp as she delicately channeled electricity through her fingertips. The same substance that made up her destructive lightning bolts, she found, could also give pleasure.

"Ororo..." he whispered, kissing her forehead. She smelled of summertime and spices, and he felt giddy, light-headed. "You know that this might never work out," he said, forcing out the words. Ah want it to, he thought, but it was left unspoken.

"Shh..." She rested a finger against his lips, forestalling speech. "Tonight, we will make it work." Bright Lady, please let this last for more than a night, she secretly prayed. "No matter what happens tomorrow, Sam, we must always look back on this night with joy." Cupping his cheek with one elegant hand, she said, "I think we can give each other that much at least."

A kiss sealed the agreement, and two shadows melted into one. Behind them, the moon slowly descended towards the horizon, where sky and earth seem to meet.

END