Full Circle by Stormfreak

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. This story is rated NC-17 for graphic violence against women, and some sexual references, both consensual and non-consensual. This story is unfinished.

Chapter One: Hard On Everyone

I’m walking down these halls that are so cold and damp and dark, you wouldn’t believe it. I mean, there‘s mold in the cracks; that’s how long it’s been since this wing of the school was ever used. Gambit, my husband, is behind me, holding my gloved hand in a death grip. His handsome face is grim, his jaw set, his eyes dark. He hates this as much as I do, maybe more. But if he ever loved a woman as much as he loves me, it’s the woman at the end of the hallway. He’s obligated to her. Hell, I know that. But still, I know it’s eating him up inside.

Jean’s the one taking notes when I open the large door that holds her and a thick, wall-to-wall pane of glass. "Hey," I call softly. "Ah brought ya some stew." I hand Jean a large thermos of piping hot beef stew, and a sad smile comes to her eyes.

"Thanks," she says as she pulls her sweater around her body. "I needed this."

"How’s she doin’?" Gambit asks, cutting to the chase as usual.

Jean’s not offended, thank God. "Not well," she replies, glancing at her notes. "We had to glove her hands over a couple of hours ago. Good thing they actually come with a key – ‘Ro’s been trying to tear them off with her teeth for the last two hours. I think she’s gotten tired of it, though. "

"Ah, Jeannie, no," I moaned.

"We had to, Rogue. Her nails are practically ripped from her fingers from trying to get that collar off her neck. And she kept messing at her bandages, picking at her scars, and pulling out her hair…" Jean bit her lip, and I knew she was fighting tears. "On the up side, though, Hank examined ‘Ro and said that the stitches on her head should be ready to come out by tomorrow."

"What about her…other stitches?" I asked, not too sure if I want to know the answer.

"Six weeks, chere." Remy answered my question gently. "You know that anal injuries take longer to heal."

I did know. I heard the same speech everyone else heard. I don’t know why I asked – I was hoping that it would be different for ‘Ro. It’s hard – it’s damned hard to see ‘Ro like this. She was always the strongest of all of us. Why, if anyone had ever said that Ororo Munroe would be at the receiving end of an ass-whuppin’ by any man, I’d have laughed ‘em clear back home. But here she was, half out of her mind from a rape and a beating that would make prison inmates shudder. Combine that with a botched suicide attempt and a Vicodan withdrawal, and…

Funny. In five days would mark their one-year anniversary – 365 days of knowing that bastard linebacker, Roderick Livingston. Strange how it would end in exactly 360 days. Full circle. In 360 degrees, Storm had made a full circle from a strong, beautiful, funny, golden girl goddess to this…thing crouched in a corner, rocking back and forth and humming to herself.

I can’t go in there. I never go in there. I always break down here, in the chamber. I can’t go in there because I always have the question in my head: If a woman like Storm could get into an abusive relationship, is anyone immune? I know it’s crazy. I know Remy would never hurt me. But the night Ororo met Roderick, he didn’t have "woman-beater" written on his forehead, either…

*

December 23rd – Day One

Harry’s Hideaway

"…happy biiiiiiiirthdaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy tooooooooooooo yoooooooooo-ooooooooou!" bellowed the members of the X-Men, as well as the majority of Harry’s Hideaway. A red-cheeked silver-haired black woman buried her face in her hands. "Goddess, please open up the floor and swallow me whole," she whispered to her slender fingers as the entire bar exploded into applause.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Remy LeBeau stood up and waved his arms for attention. "I have an announcement t’make."

"Remy!" hissed the curvy Southern belle at his side, but the sexy Cajun ignored her. "I know we were s’pose t’wait until Christmas Day, but I have t’say it now. Everyone," he added, his chest puffed out, "Rogue an’ I are getting’ married on Valentine’s Day."

Jean and Ororo squealed, and within seconds, the X-Men were surrounding the happy couple, carefully hugging Rogue and pounding Remy on the back (Logan pounding a little harder than the rest.) "An’ as t’bride-t’-be, Ah only have one request from my future maid-of-honor, Miss Munroe," Rogue added.

"Why do I have to be maid-of-honor?" Storm asked cheerfully.

"Because you’ve done it before," Jean quipped, and the table rocked with laughter.

Ororo stuck out her tongue, but her aquamarine eyes danced. "The goddess will grant your wish. What do you want, my beloved friend?"

"’Kay. ‘Remember when I came t’you an’ asked ya what ya thought ‘bout me marryin’ Remy an’ ya said that Ah neva would an’ if I ever agreed t’marry him, ya’d stand on t’table an’ sing a stupid song?"

The Electric Slide in Ororo’s eyes came to an abrupt halt. "You do realize," she said slowly, "that that promise was made because I did not have faith in your decision-making skills?"

"Well," Rogue declared, slightly drunk, "ya doubted t’wrong gal. An’ I have t’perfect song for ya t’sing." She leaned and whispered in Jean’s ear, but Logan also heard and the two burst into hysterical laughter. "What?" Ororo asked, slightly irritated but still in high spirits. Logan leaned to whisper in Ororo’s ear and Ororo’s normally pouty lips set into a thin line. But she wouldn’t welsh out – of that, everyone was sure. It just wasn’t Storm’s way. She sighed loudly. "A little help, please?" she said loudly over the laughter.

"Anythin’ t’help a lady," Logan said gallantly, standing to help Ororo onto the tables, and getting a fantastic view under her skirt as well. "Hot diggity!"

"Logan, take your eyes off my behind!" Ororo snapped.

"Cold diggity," Logan muttered, sitting down.

Ororo ignored him. "Attention, patrons of Harry’s!" Ororo called loudly. Ororo was never one to do things half-assed. "I dedicate this number to the couple sitting to my left – the funny-looking one with the skunk streak in her hair-"

"Ya got nerve talkin’ about someone’s hair, ‘Ro!" Rogue yelled from below.

"-and the handsome man with the beady eyes there!"

Remy flipped Ororo the bird, still smiling. Ororo cleared her throat, flexed her fingers, and to a packed bar of slack-jawed alcoholics, belted out in a soaring soprano:

"Who's the leader of the club

That's made for you and me?

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!"

Bobby fell out laughing first, Jean and Rogue a close second. Logan was choking on his beer, and even Scott held a tight smirk.

"Hey, there! Hi, there! Ho, there!

You're as welcome as can be!

M--I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!

Mickey Mooooooouse…"

"Donald Duck!" Remy and Bobby stood to their feet and bellowed.

"Donald Duck!" the bar thundered.

"High! High! High!" the bar roared. Ororo threw her arms out for the finale, which the entire bar was singing by now:

"Come along and sing a song

And join the jamboree

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!"

Harry’s broke into thunderous applause as Ororo curtseyed cutely, and Logan helped her down. Not an X-Man could contain his or her laughter as Ororo went back to her turtle-in-a-shell pose of her face in her hands, only this time, she was trying to hide her brilliant smile. Rogue leaned forward. "Am sorry Ah made ya do that, ‘Ro, but the opportunity was too good ta pass up," she slurred in her best friend’s ear.

"Oh, Rogue!" Storm whispered, squeezing Rogue’s hand. "I would sing a hundred times gladly to see you finally at peace with Remy! I am so happy for the two of you that I could burst!"

"‘Ro, Ah hope one day you’ll feel the happiness that Ah’m feelin’ right now. That’s my Christmas gift to you," Rogue replied, and the two hugged, filled with happiness and love.

Three hundred and fifty nine days later, there wouldn’t be an X-Man wishing to God that they hadn’t made Ororo sing that damned song. That was what caught the eye of Roderick Livingston.

*

I remember the night we all met Roderick. We were all leaving the bar when God’s Gift to Women came up to our table and flashed the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. I mean, for a quick second I could see what the big fuss was about black men. The guy was an ebony prince – nothing to leave Remy for, but let’s not act like love makes you blind.

"Excuse me," he says in this soft as satin voice, "But are you the young lady who sang the song a minute ago?" He was talking to Storm. And for a second, you could feel the energy of the table shift. Suddenly, all the guys were puffing up their chests, as if there was enough air in the world to make their pecs as big as this brown-skinned Adonis. And Jean and I – and yes I admit it – felt a little jealous. Why, I have no clue. Guess it’s a female thing.

"Who wants to know?" Ororo asked flippantly, as if she’s had ebony hunks lined up at her attic loft door, and hadn’t been celibate since Forge left her back in the day. Secretly, I admired that. I mean, I would’ve jumped on his…wait. This isn’t about me.

Anyway, the hunk smiles and says, "I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Rod Livingston, and-"

"Rod Livingston of the Jets!?!" Bobby interrupted, his jaw dropping. Ororo’s eyes narrowed immediately.

"Yes," he said chuckling. "I play for the Jets. Anyway, Miss…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?"

"Can’t catch a ball, either," I heard Scott mutter, and that surprised me.

"I did not throw it out," Ororo said coolly.

Rod pursed his lips. It was obvious that he was used to women falling at his Gucci loafers because he was a big star. But he had picked the wrong girl this time, especially to try to impress all his buddies who were standing behind him. "Well, I was just wondering if we could get together at another time – at your convenience, of course – and get to know each other a little better?"

Ororo folded her arms across her chest. "I believe you know all about me that there is to know, Mister Livingston," she replied. Without warning, she stood to her feet, and for some reason, we all did. ‘Ro’s got that kind of effect on folks. "And by the way," she said gently, her hand on Rod’s shoulder, "I am sorry about that game last week against the Cowboys."

"Ouuuuuch!" Remy moaned under his breath, which set our whole table to chuckling. As we walked away, Bobby called over his shoulder, "Hey, for three million dollars a year, I’ll be with you!"

Way later, when Rod was recalling his first meeting with Ororo, he would mention how impressed he was with the way he turned her down. But really, in the back of his mind. I think he resented that he got dissed in front of his football friends. I really do…

*

It was his determination that Ororo was secretly attracted to – his swagger, the confidence in his dark brown eyes. Ororo became quite the Jets fan after their encounter in Harry’s. She enjoyed the way he looked at her the night she shot him down – not like a man who had lost, but more like a child who couldn’t make his toy work. Determined. Yes, that was it. Of course, she would never admit it aloud.

It was his resolve that wore her down, ultimately. First, he managed to obtain her address. Every day thereafter, starting on Christmas Day, he would have a single rose delivered to the door of Xavier’s Institute. Then two. The following day, three. On New Year’s Eve, seven white roses accompanied an invitation to a New Year’s Eve party that was being thrown at the Waldorf-Astoria. She tossed it in the trash, and spent New Year’s curled up on the couch watching a movie with the rest of the Gen Xers too young to go out.

But persistence finally won, and by the time two dozen roses were delivered to her door along with an invitation to a charity ball a week in advance, Ororo broke down and called Roderick and accepted. She came down the staircase in a black bugle-beaded dress that fit her like a glove, her hair pulled back slightly by a pair of clips. That night, Ororo Munroe was unofficially introduced into "high society," socializing with the muckety-mucks. She grew accustomed to the flash of bulbs as the night went on, and when reporters would call out, "Hey, Rod! Is this your new lady?" Roderick would hold her close and call, "Only time will tell." Ororo didn’t like anyone putting a claim on her, especially in national news, but when Roderick’s limousine pulled out the driveway of Xavier’s Institute, the gentle kiss he had placed on her lips left her head spinning and her heart pounding.

They played phone tag for days on end, with the Gen X females more than happy to deliver messages from "Mr. Livingston." She actually called him next to be an escort to Remy and Rogue’s wedding. When the wedding picture was taken, he stood right behind her, his hands on her slender waist, smiling for the camera. That was Valentine’s Day, and Roderick surprised her by blindfolding her and driving her to his place, an apartment in the Clock Tower with a beautiful view of the city. Everything was laid out for her: an exquisite three-course meal, a hot bath drawn later by Roderick’s maid, complete with body shampoo and lotion, and an off-white Victoria’s Secret negligee with matching silk robe that came to her ankles.

By that time, Ororo felt a little bold, and exited the bathroom without the robe on. Roderick was doing push-ups on the ground, his muscles flexing as he lowered his massive frame to the floor over and over. He was so handsome, that Ororo leaned against the doorjamb, watching him exercise in the firelight until he stopped. He laid on the ground to start his crunches, and that’s when she caught his eye.

"Oh…my…God…" Even from upside-down, she was beautiful, absolutely flawless, with that butter cream silk looking like it would melt on her skin. He walked to her slowly, placed his hands on her face, and kissed her forehead, then stopped, his eyebrows creasing. "You’re shaking," he noted. "Are you cold?"

"No," Ororo said, her voice trembling slightly. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous. Here she was a celibate woman in a man’s house, readying herself for an act she hadn’t done in years.

Roderick caught the look in her eye. "’Ro, don’t be nervous. We’ll take this as slow as you want me too…"

And he had taken her hand and led her to his bed and laid her on her stomach, slowly pulling the teddy off her body but not exposing her breasts – just her back side. When Ororo felt a warm liquid hit her back, she jumped slightly, and then relaxed as she felt Roderick’s enormous hands slide up and down her back, over and over in a swirling motion. All the tension from the hectic wedding (Rogue had been unable to find the gloves that matched her dress, delaying the ceremony for nearly an hour) – as well as the fear in her heart – began to melt away slowly, replaced by an unfamiliar heat in her body. An emotion that had lain dormant for years was now beginning to control her mind.

Ororo rolled over and stared into his eyes, exposing her body in whole. She couldn’t control her heavy breathing, which was causing her breasts to rise and fall. For a moment, all Roderick could do was stare at her naked body, enhanced by firelight. "Damn," he whispered. "You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life…"Roderick leaned down and kissed her, the heat from his mouth so warm and sweet that Ororo moaned. Louder still as his hands began to lightly tease, then massage her nipples, dipping his bald head low to suck on her breasts. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they lay down, kissing hungrily. Roderick reached up and unclipped her hair then, and it fell like a fog-colored curtain to shield them from the rest of the world. He ran his hands through the thick, ivory locks as his lips kissed her breasts and her stomach, make colors swirl behind Ororo’s closed eyes. She wanted to do something – anything – but just lie there as Roderick’s tongue was working between her thighs, but Roderick’s hands were gripped in hers, and she couldn’t control the shaking, both inside her body and outside the Clock Tower that was rattling the windows. It was her resistance that was causing the turbulent storm, not the feeling in her head or her stomach or her breasts.

Roderick couldn’t have possibly known the two connected, but he did stop to kiss her, and Ororo could taste herself on his tongue and his upper lip. "Relax, Windrider," he crooned, using the nickname he had heard her friends call her hours earlier. "I’m not going to hurt you, not going to hurt you at all." He pulled off his boxers, and Ororo’s breath caught in her throat. Roderick chuckled. "Didn’t I just tell you to relax?" he asked as he rolled an extra-large condom onto his erect penis. "I told you I will be as slow and as gentle as you want me to be. Look at me, Ororo. Noooo, I meant at my eyes."

Ororo lifted her gaze into Roderick’s deep brown eyes, and he leaned down to kiss her. "I will never hurt you, Ororo," he murmured into her ear while using his fingers to excite her. "I swear, just tell me what to do…" And he slid inside of her, very slowly, so thick and long that Ororo cried out in a mingle of joy and pain, which are very close relatives as it is. By the time his hips finally met with hers and he began to lift and lower his hips, Ororo closed her eyes and gave into a passion that she has denied herself for far too long.

It rained smoothly for the rest of the night.

*

"Rogue?"

I snap out of my daydream "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you can go in there this time?"

I run my gloved fingers through my hair. "Ah have to," I said softly. "Ah’m t’only one who hasn’t seen her – well, me and Logan, but that’s t’be expected…"

"Livingston still breathin’?" Remy asked flatly.

Jean shrugged. "To be honest, Remy, I wouldn’t care if he were alive or dead." It’s the coldest thing I’ve ever heard her say, and it stuns me. But I know she’s just saying what we’re all thinking. If sweet Jesus himself came to me right now and told me I could kill one person and not roast in the lakes of Hell, my silver bullet would go to Roderick Livingston. And that’s God’s honest truth.

"Ah’m gonna go this time," I say slowly. "Ah really, really am."

"Remember to stay calm," Jean reminded me. "Go to the door – I’ll buzz you in." I walk to the door, listening for the buzz that will prompt me to push open the door. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I see our goddess, our pillar of strength, fallen. But I know I have to be there for her, because she’s been there for me at my lowest times as well. It couldn’t have been easy for her, just like it’s not easy for me. But she did it, and damn it, so will I.

Chapter Two: Deeper Underground

Collars.

I remember the first time I was fitted for one, four days before my wedding day. There is nothing – I repeat, nothing – more degrading than being fitted for a fucking collar to wear around your neck. You can bedazzle it with the most precious stones, make it as lightweight as the shit they put on space shuttles, and shine it up all you want. But a collar is a collar is a collar, and there’s nothing that can take that feeling of tightness around your neck away.

You think I’d wear it all the time. You’re wrong. I hate the damn thing. Most of the time, I keep it off. Sure, it allows me to make love to Remy, and I’m grateful that our child will be born within the next half-year and all, but it’s not like a tampon – something you eventually forget that you’re wearing. Nope. You turn your neck, it shifts or pinches or tightens around your Adam’s apple. I would love the feel of my husband’s kisses on my neck, but the damned thing gets in the way. It’s like a bad sex toy – something I can never get rid of if I want regular contact.

So God knows I understand why Storm destroyed her nails trying to claw the thing off. Her powers are a part of her. Feeling the effects of the weather is a part of her blood. The weather is her spirit. And now that spirit’s been curbed by a piece of Genosha-style technology.

If Beast wanted ‘Ro to get her self-esteem back, he picked a helluva way to do it.

I can see why Ororo hates this room. Hell, I’ve only been in it a couple of seconds and I want out. It’s way too sterile. Nothing colorful – it’s all hospital white. No windows, therefore no sunlight or fresh breezes - nothing but bright, headache-inducing fluorescent light. Artificial light. Artificial air. She needs a plant in here or something.

It’s hard to even tell that it’s Storm crouched in the corner because her face is so puffy. Her right eye is black and blue, and the other one has a good welt underneath. Somehow, she had managed to rip a good deal of hair from her head, and it lay in clumps around her on the floor and hung on her head in jagged, uneven patches. Small bald spots, bloodied and raw, were beginning to scab atop her head.

There she is. Our goddess. Our rock. She’s covered the majority of her body with heavy blankets, and it dawns on me that this is the first time in years that Ororo’s felt cold. I’m sure it terrifies her. Even from underneath all the blankets, I can see that Ororo has her arms wrapped around her body, rocking herself back and forth and humming in such a high pitch that my temples begin to throb. She doesn’t even look up when I come inside, but I can see that her bright blue eyes have dimmed considerably. Getting your ass kicked on a day-to-day basis will do that, I hear…

I can’t do this. If it were Jean, Betsy - shit, Logan or Scott or even Remy – I could handle this better. But not ‘Ro. Not our rock, our pillar of strength. Not our goddess. No one should look like this – no one should go through what ‘Ro went through that night, but especially not Ororo, not my husband’s Stormy…

I lean against the door to open it, to run as fast as I can down the hall and forget that I ever saw –

Locked. I’m locked inside.

I look to the window. Jean catches my eyes and shakes her head. No.

So now I’m trapped.  No chickening out, not this time.

“Ro?” I call softly, but she doesn’t respond, not that I expected her to. She just continues to rock, faster and faster, her hands flying to her neck. On occasion, she’d try to claw at her neck or her face, but the cloth was preventing her from doing any damage.

“Storm? It’s me, Rogue.” Not like she gives a shit, but at least she doesn’t flip out like she did when Remy tried to see her. Jean warned me to move very slowly and talk very softly, so I slowly walk in front of Storm, stepping into her line of vision. “How are ya feelin’ today, Sugah?” Stupid question, Rogue. Stupid fucking question.

<When was the last time she ate anything?> I ask Jean.

<I enter her mind and put her to sleep, then we feed her intravenously,> Jean responds.

<Is that ethical?>

<Nope.>

At least Jean is honest.

I sit down in front of Storm, and she ducks her head so her hair falls in front of her face. “Ororo, we need you to eat something,” I tell her gently. “Otherwise, Jean’s gonna keep stickin’ ya wit’ those IVs, and Ah know ya don’t like those. Ah had one once, and it hurt! Ah don’t know how ya take ‘em all the time.”

No answer. “The kids really miss ya a lot, Ororo.” Mentioning her students makes her stop humming, thank God. “The Professa’s took a full month off of his travels just to stay heah an’ make sure you’re okay. And Remy - ” Ororo looks up when I mention Remy. I almost cry when I look into her eyes. Haunted eyes, the eyes of a woman whose spirit has been broken. “Remy misses ya t’most,” I tell her. A single tear slides down Ororo’s cheek, but she doesn’t say anything. “He keeps pesturin’ Jean: ‘When can I see mah Stormy? I wanna see my Stormy!’ So you gotta let him come see you, okay?”

 I reach to pull a lock of hair from her face, and she suddenly screams – not a soft, startled scream, but a true, honest-to-God shriek that brought Jean inside my head. <Dammit, Rogue! Don’t touch her!>

 “Ah – Ah didn’t know!” Ororo was trying to free her hands again, no doubt to tear out more of her hair, that pretty white hair. Ororo was thrashing around wildly, moving more in these couple of minutes than I had ever seen her move. She began to bang her head against the wall. <Jean! Do something!>

 A couple of seconds later, Ororo’s body stiffens, then she slumps to the floor, her eyes closed. Jean storms into the room, spitting a slew of obscenities. “Have some fucking sense, Rogue! The girl just got the shit kicked out of her – do you think she wants anyone touching her!?”

“Look bitch, Ah said I didn’t know!” I scream back.

“Don’t you call me a bitch, you piece of trailer-”

“HEY!” Remy strides into the room, his eyes blazing. “Cut it out, both of you!” He points his finger at Jean. “As fo’ you, if you eva talk t’my wife like dat again-”

“What, you’re gonna beat me like Roderick did ‘Ro? Fuck you!” Jean screams, then burst into tears suddenly. “You touched her hair, Rogue, her hair! You know Roderick loved her hair…” Which explains why Storm went out of her way to destroy it. “You…you’re not even supposed to be in here,” Jean adds to Remy. “You know that.”

Remy was the only man who attempted to see Ororo when we checked her into this wing. Ororo took one look at him and screamed herself hoarse until he left. Beast and Jean had collared her by then so she wasn’t able to do any major damage. She did, however, throw herself at him and beat him around his face and chest until we were able to pull her off. After that, no man was allowed to see Ororo, not even Beast. Jean took over as her primary doctor whole Hank did most of the paperwork unless Ororo was unconscious.

Remy gave a loud sigh, then knelt next to his sister and picked her off the floor. She didn’t stir, and Remy placed Ororo in the bed, covering the lower half of her battered body. “Jeannie, you gotta take her outta dis…t’ing,” he says, referring to Ororo’s modified straitjacket.

“I can’t do that, Remy,” Jean hiccups, wiping tears from her face. “She’ll just do more damage to herself.

“Jus’ fo a little while,” Gambit insists.

Jean thinks it over. “Just for a little while,” she agreed, fishing the key out of her pocket. She unlocks both of Ororo’s hands, and pulls the straitjacket off Ororo’s arms. I gasp, and put my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. Ororo’s arms were covered in black and blue belt marks. Some were scabbed over, some bleeding. “I’m going to get something to put on those cuts,” Jean says, and left.

Gambit leans over and kisses both of Ororo’s swollen eyes, then places a feather light kiss on her lips. “You gotta wake up,” he whispers in her ear. “You gotta snap outta dis, Stormy. You an’ Rogue are gonna have your babies in a few months, rememba? You gotta eat, an’ see doctas, an’…” Remy chokes up, suddenly unable to form any words. “Dammit, Stormy, you gotta snap outta dis fo’ me, chere!”

“Remy,” Jean’s voice cuts into the silence. She hasa bottle of lotion in one hand and a bottle of peroxide in the other. “It’s time for you to go.”
Remy nods, squeezed Ororo’s hand hard, and placed one last kiss on her forehead. “Je vous aime soeur,” he whispered, fingering a ragged, brittle lock of hair. He turned to Jean. “You take damn good care of my Stormy,” he orders, but there’s no real threat in his voice.

“Of course I will,” Jean says solemnly. He leaves, not looking at either of us as he left.

Jean sighs as she stares at the ragged mess that was Ororo’s skin. “A little help, Rogue?” she asks me, her voice heavy and tired. “You do one arm and I’ll do the other?”

*

April 9th - Day 107                                                                                                        Cairo, Egypt

The warm Egyptian sunlight streamed into the small open window. Ororo smiled and stretched, her lithe chocolate body flexing like a cat’s. She rolled over onto her stomach bemusedly, full of love and peace. The man responsible for her placid state, on the other hand, was a different story.

“WHOOO!”

The noise brought Ororo out of her reverie. She had been coasting, riding the waves of her last orgasm. The last two days had been quite hectic. She wanted to slip into somewhere warm and quiet and fall asleep.

Roderick, on the other hand, was a different story. Ororo laughed as Roderick jumped up, hopping around the room with a deranged version of dancing. “Oh, yeah, I threw it dow-own. I threw it dow-own!”

“Mmm, so modest.” Ororo sat up drowsily, revealing her bare breasts now covered with passion marks. “Aren’t you tired?” she demanded, almost jealous of this man’s energy.

“Nope!” Roderick was still doing that idiotic dance, the one that he did in the end zone. In a full uniform and holding a football, he would’ve looked less foolish, but being naked, his dick swung one way and his balls swung another. The sight was worth a thousand words…all of them synonyms for stupid. “I feel fantastic – like I just won the Super Bowl. I feel GREAT!” he shouted. “Like I could run a million miles. Can I tackle you?” he asked Ororo.

“No!” Too late. Roderick had bounced onto their bed and was pinning Ororo down playfully. “Say it,” he teased from above, bending low to tease one of her nipples with his tongue. “Say who you love.”

“I will not,” Ororo balked. She laughed as she wriggled beneath him, but her thighs grinding against his bare cock only excited him more.

“Say it,” he crooned, releasing her wrists and letting his hands wander.

“No! No - ohhhh, damn it.” Ororo sighed, coerced. “I love Daddy Dick,” she said in a soft voice, pouting sexily.

Roderick laughed hysterically. “That’s not the way you were saying it a few minutes ago,” he smirked.

Ororo, the goddess she was, stuck her tongue out. Half a second later, she was tangled in a sweaty, lustful embrace. Never in her life had she felt so good, so loved, so…

“…young New York Jet wed mutant schoolteacher Ororo Munroe in a private ceremony in Cairo, Egypt. Livingston’s agent Stumpy Carson announced at a press conference that Livingston would return to the Unites States in time for training camp in June…”

…so damned scared.

“Shit!” Roderick yelled, releasing his new wife and sitting upright. He fished underneath his wife to find the remote control they had rolled on top of. “Fucking shit! What the fuck is this guy good for if he’s gonna leak shit to the press?”

“Rod, it was going to come out sooner or later,” Ororo sighed. This certainly wasn’t the way she wanted her teammates to find out.

“But not like this, Ororo, not like this!” Without warning, Roderick picked up a wine bottle and hurled it toward the television. The screen imploded, and a slew of sparks flew from the destroyed set. Ororo screamed. “Roderick!”

“WHAT!?” Roderick screamed back at his wife. Standing naked, six foot three and 250+ pounds, he was a formidable sight. Ororo found herself growing very, very nervous, and her husband caught it. “Oh, Ororo,” he murmured, crawling into bed next to her. “I’m sorry, boo. I really am. It’s just that we’re gonna have every reporter in all of Africa trying to find us now. I wanted us to have a little down time,” he added, pulling Ororo close to him. “Me away from football and you away from school and saving the world…” he kissed the bridge of her nose, and Ororo smiled.

Roderick had taken the news that Ororo was a mutant far better than she could’ve dreamed. They had been lying in bed after a particularly good night, when Roderick wrapped his arms around her waist and mumbled into her hair, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Ororo froze. It was too soon. Less than three months, and their relationship was moving so fast. “Roderick,” she said slowly. “I have something I need to tell you before we take this relationship any further…”

“The rain,” he murmured sleepily.

“Excuse me?”

“The rain. It always rains when we make love.” Roderick sat up then, looking in to his lover’s blue eyes. “You…you cause that, don’t you? Like those people with powers on the news all the time – you’re like, a mutant or something.”

Ororo had sighed in the darkness. “Yes. Yes, I am, and I should’ve told you sooner than this. I’m sorry.”

“No biggie,” Roderick had replied. “You’re still sexy and smart and perfect…and I want you to be my wife.” And he had pulled a velvet box from underneath his pillow, and he slid the ring onto her trembling hand in the dark.

Now she lay straddling her new husband, her hair brushing across his bare abs. Ororo began to rub her husband’s bald head, and he moaned low in his throat. Roderick placed his hands behind her ass, squeezing it gently as Ororo dipped her head to kiss him.

A soft knock. “Roderick…” Ororo moaned through his lips.

“Forget it,” he mumbled back.

“No…I must get that,” Ororo broke herself from her husband’s grasp. Roderick slapped her on her bare ass, hard. “Better watch that big ole thang,” he teased, winking at her as his cell phone rang.

“Handle your business. That’s probably your loudmouthed agent.” Despite the smarting pain, Ororo had to smile as she pulled on the same silk robe she had received as a Valentine’s Day gift and opened the door.

Standing there was a gorgeous little three-year-old, barefoot and sleepy. “Hello, Adrienne,” Ororo said softly. “You’re up awfully early.”

Adrienne Livingston smiled shyly. “Wanna see the pyramids,” she said softly. “You promised, Miss Ro.”

“So I did, so I did.” Ororo took the small girl’s hand and led her into the spacious presidential suite.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Daddy’s in the front room on the telephone.” He was yelling. Loudly. It was probably Adrienne’s mother. “Are you hungry?” Adrienne nodded. “Well, why don’t you watch television, and I’ll go get your daddy and we’ll all get something to eat.” 

“And then we’ll see the pyramids?” Adrienne’s dark green eyes lit up.

“That’s what I promised.” Being Adrienne’s stepmother was going to be a daunting task, to say the least. At least Adrienne seemed to like her. She was secretly thankful for that – Ororo had heard tales of stepfamilies not getting along. But Adrienne adored her, if for no other reason than she had “pretty hair.” 

Ororo walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Roderick was indeed on the phone with Adrienne’s mother, who apparently was just now learning that her child was on the other side of the world. “…my turn to have her until June, and if I wanna take my daughter to Egypt, that’s what the fuck I’ll do!” Roderick was yelling into the phone.

Ororo winced as she heard the language used by bother her husband and the woman on the other end of the line. Not that Dreya Paxon was much better. Ororo distinctly heard Dreya screaming something about her child being around a “filthy mutant.” “O-ho, so you don’t want your daughter around a filthy mutant, just like your father didn’t want his little girl around a filthy nigger, right? Dreya, you’re so full of shit…”

“Roderick,” Ororo called gently, to remind him that his daughter might hear him from the other side. Roderick waved her away impatiently. “That’s right! She’s my wife, and so help me God, Dreya, if you ever even attempt to disrespect her, I’ll break my foot so far up your lily-white ass you’ll be tasting shoe leather!”

“Roderick!” Ororo hissed. “What an awful thing to say to the mother of your child!”

“What!? Hold on. What is it, ‘Ro?” Roderick asked, his voice hard.

“Hand me the phone, Roderick.” Roderick looked a little puzzled, but gave Ororo his small Nokia. “Hello, Miss Paxon?” Ororo said gently. “This is Mrs. Roderick Livingston.”

Dead silence. Not quite the onslaught Ororo was expecting. “If you’ll excuse my husband, we are about to have a family breakfast, and then he’ll be disposed for the next…” she winked at Roderick, “…several hours. You’ll have to call him later.” Click.

Roderick smiled. “Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t know you had it in you, Munroe.”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t talk to Dreya like that, Roderick, even if she does upset you.”

“She shouldn’t talk to me like she doesn’t have any damned sense.” Roderick growled. “Callin’ me a bastard. I’ll break her neck. She’s just mad because I didn’t marry her – I told her, I didn’t want any dizzy bitch as my wife.”

“She may not be your wife, Roderick, but she is Adrienne’s mother,” Ororo reminded him. “And like it or not, you two are bound for an eternity. I have to learn to get along with her as well, and - ”

“I don’t want to talk about Dreya,” Roderick said gently, wrapping his muscular arms around Ororo. “I wanna talk about you and me.” He smiled…so charming was his smile when he wasn’t angry. He brought Ororo’s wedding ring to his lips and smiled. “Mrs. Roderick Livingston,” he teased.  

“Roderick…mmm, not here,” Ororo tensed. “Adrienne’s in the other room-“

“And she’s probably watching cartoons and not paying us any mind,” Roderick crooned in her ear. “Come on. One little quickie. Pleeeeease?”

Ororo laughed lightly as Roderick placed her body on the couch, lying on top of her as he pulled the silk robe of her shoulders. She never could resist his smile. It would become her downfall.

*

I was asleep with Remy when Jean busted inside my head and told me to turn on the news. And there was Roderick’s agent, saying that he and ‘Ro had upped and eloped in Africa. It came as a shock to everyone. We knew Rod and ‘Ro were close, but it had only been three months – no reason at all for them to get married, and especially without an engagement period.

Remy was really hurt by it all. He didn’t say anything about it except for, “Well, good fo’ her.” But I could tell he was hurt – hell, he’s my husband, my other half. I know he always wanted to be the one to give Ororo away. Remy wasn’t too big on Roderick anyway – on our wedding night I remember him saying that he wasn’t right for her. I just chalked it up to him being the overprotective brother who felt that no one was good enough for his Stormy.

Roderick Mason Livingston, football hero, charity hero, contributor to the Big Brothers of America, and wife-beater…can I talk about him? I guess I need to. Roderick was charming, sensitive to ‘Ro’s needs, and overall just your great guy. I mean, we all really liked him. Even Logan, although he never treated Rod very well, admits that he thought Rod was the guy for Ro. Ororo brought Roderick to the school one day, and he knew we were a school for mutants. At an outside brunch, he told us about being the only black kid at his boarding school in Switzerland. He knew what it was like to be different and ostracized. He never seemed to be uncomfortable around anyone, not even me, and he knew I couldn’t touch anyone. The Gen Xers were in love with him, and he treated them all with respect without leading them on.

He put a smile on Ororo’s face that I’d never seen before. She told me once – during one of our bonding moments – that Roderick made her feel like a true woman. That was just goddess talk for saying that he banged her back out. ‘Ro’s a little classier than me, I’m afraid. But she learned the hard way that although her bedroom is soundproof, her greenhouse isn’t. The Gen Xers were playing football when they got a rather explicit – and noisy - lesson in sexual education.

Adrienne was a doll-baby. That was another thing that shocked us all – that Roderick would bring his child around us. Let’s face it, not all humans are that open-minded. Eventually, she charmed us all, calling us “Auntie” this and “Uncle” that. She seemed infatuated with the men in the house, especially Logan after he carved her an exquisite rocking horse for her fourth birthday.

I can’t exactly say that Roderick’s change was overnight – I know it wasn’t. I just didn’t pay attention. None of us did. Now that I think about it, I remember watching ‘Ro dance with Remy on our wedding day. It was really a sweet sight – Remy and Ororo look great together, and ‘Ro’s naturally a great dancer. They were just dancing, and Remy was whispering in Storm’s ear and she was just laughing and laughing…I remember looking over at Roderick then, and his eyes were just cold as ice. I don’t think he knew how close those two were, and I used to think that if he had known, he wouldn’t have been so jealous.

I know better now.

*

Scott was the man that Roderick began to dislike first. Remy…Remy was just some mush-mouthed smooth talker. A wannabe pimp – Roderick had seen a million of them. But Scott? Scott was different. Rod had come to pick Ororo up one day when he happened to see them together. Scott was going through one of his battle plans or something, and Ororo was leaning forward, looking at his papers. They were close, too close for Roderick’s comfort.

Logan was almost as bad. He was a short, runty little piece of shit, some guy who obviously dubbed himself as his wife’s bodyguard/detective. He would sit somewhere, staring at Roderick, his slate gray eyes narrowed. He had this “you-ever-hurt-Ro-and-I’ll-kill-you” persona that rubbed Roderick the wrong way. Ororo was a married woman now, and Roderick would be the one to protect her – not some stumpy Canadian bastard.

But it was Bobby Drake that Roderick hated the most. This little prick didn’t seem to be able to respect that Ororo was a married woman. What kind of man greeted a married woman with a hug every fucking morning? Roderick had watched Ororo thread her arm through his one morning – why? Were her legs broken? Did she need help walking? Plus he was way too playful. The little fucker joked all the time. He played a joke on ‘Ro this morning that caused her to chase him all around the house, and when she caught up with him, he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up and twirled her in circles. Roderick wanted to wipe the floor with the little snot right then.

That’s what was on his mind as he watched Ororo brush her hair one night, roughly a month after their wedding, getting ready for bed. No doubt she would wake up tomorrow morning and, with little effort, make herself as ravishing as possible. What for? She had a man – why would she make herself beautiful for other men? “You have a lot of male friends,” he remarked to Ororo.

“Yes, and they are all like brothers to me.”

“What’s up with that Remy cat?”

Ororo set her brush down and looked up at her husband. “What about Remy?”

“Every time I look up, Remy is whispering something in your ear. Didn’t we go to his wedding?”

“Roderick, Remy is madly in love with his wife, as Scott is in love with his.” Ororo laughed lightly.

“Well, do they always have to be touching on you or hugging on you? Especially that Popsicle kid – what’s his name?”

“Robert, and he’s older than me. Roderick, why are you acting this way?”

“I just don’t want you around them so much. Any of them. I want you to quit teaching at the Institute You’re my wife – I don’t want you working, anyway.”

“Quit? Roderick, are you insane?” Ororo stood up. “The X-Men are like my family – I would never turn my back on them, not for anyone!”

“Not even your own husband?”

“Why must I choose? Why can’t I do both?”

“I am the husband – I am the man in this house, not you.” Roderick strode across the room – for a big man, he moved as fast as lightning. He squeezed Ororo’s upper arm and jerked her out of her chair. “I don’t ever want to see any of them touching you anymore-“

“Roderick, let go of me!” Ororo gasped.

“-you’re my wife and they need to learn to keep their hands off you before I teach them a lesson myself-“

“Roderick, you’re hurting me!” Ororo cried. Roderick let go of her arm, which was beginning to throb. “What on earth is the matter with you, Roderick?”

Roderick stared at his wife for the longest time. Then he spun on his heel and left the room – and the apartment without saying another word.

Ororo looked around for her own keys, only to see that Roderick had either taken them with him or hidden them where she couldn’t find them. Furious, Ororo’s eyes whited over and she took to the skies. She spent the night at the mansion.

The next morning, Ororo stood wide-eyed to see all her clothes destroyed. “By the Goddess…” she had whispered, her body trembling at the sight. Apparently, Roderick had to come home for something, found Ororo gone and lost his temper. The only thing left untouched was her beloved butter cream-colored silk robe. Mercifully, Ororo had clothes at the school, where she stayed for the entire week trying to gel her thoughts together. She knew Roderick was trying to contact her, but she had flipped off her cell phone and told the Gen Xers to tell anyone who called that she wasn’t there.

“Storm!” she heard on the eighth day.

“Yes?”

Jubilee stuck her head in the door. “Roderick’s here.”

Damn it. She was sitting with Remy and Logan when Roderick appeared suddenly in the kitchen. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice flat.

“Hey, Rod,” Remy called easily. “Sit down – Ro an’ I are in t’middle of a game of Tonk, but if-“

“Ororo, let’s go now.”

Logan’s eyes flicked from Roderick to Ororo, whose eyes were now downcast. “’Ro-“ Logan began. Something about her had changed. She hadn’t been right all week, but this was different now. She seemed almost afraid to get up and leave, and her pheromones were going crazy.

“Stormy.” The jovial tone in Remy’s voice was gone. “Are you okay, padnat?”

“I should go,” Ororo said softly, rising. She left, Roderick trailing right behind her. He glared at both men before they left.

“I don’t like him,” Logan said aloud.

Remy gave a tight smile. “You neither, homme?”

Ororo and Roderick didn’t talk the entire ride back to the apartment, or when they arrived. Adrienne was there – it was their week to take care of her – and Ororo put on her cheeriest smile and played with the young girl all night. Getting ready for bed, Ororo stared into the mirror. This is silly. I am afraid of Roderick! He would never hurt me.

“Ororo.”

Ororo jumped a mile. Roderick was standing behind her. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” He extended his hand to her, and Ororo took it. He pulled her into a tight embrace. “Ororo, I’m sorry…I lost my temper and I was wrong,” Roderick murmured into her hair. “I should’ve have touched your clothes…I’ll buy you new clothes, I promise.”

“Roderick, it is not about the clothes.” Ororo cupped Roderick’s face into her hands and looked into his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes, troubled eyes. “I need you to trust me, Roderick. I need you to understand that my love is exclusively for you.”

Roderick sighed. “It’s just that you’re so damned beautiful…I see the way they look at you, and I don’t like it…”

“You have to be kidding,” Ororo laughed. “These men are my friends, my best friends. They are like my brothers.” Ororo kissed Roderick lightly. “They would never bring any harm to me or to this marriage. The X-Men are honorable men, and besides. I love you, not them.”

They sat in bed for hours, talking and making love until they were both exhausted. “I’m sorry,” Roderick mumbled for the hundredth time as they slipped off to sleep in their king-sized iron bed. He smiled at Ororo, who smiled back and kissed him. Everything was going to be such fine, and Ororo felt downright silly for the way she felt earlier.

*

The second Jean and I come back into the room, Beast runs in. “Scott’s awake,” he calls to Jean.

“Oh, thank GOD!” Jean cries, and we’re all barreling down the hall at full speed now, into the infirmary where our co-leader lies. He’s covered in bandages – some fresh, some stained with blood. “Jean,” he murmurs as his wife leans to kiss him. “Man, I feel like hell.”

“You look like hell,” Gambit says flatly.

Scott smiles weakly. “Good old Remy,” he mutters, and the two exchange a hearty handshake. But soon Scott’s smile fades. “’Ro…is she doing okay?” he asks.

“’Ro’s…not so well,” Jean replies, busying herself to fix one of her husband’s bandages.

Scott pushes her away. “How ‘not so well’ is not so well?” he demands, his eyebrows folded. I was a little surprised that he cared so much. I mean, after what Storm did to him…

“She…she…she’s not herself,” Jean supplies softly.

“Jean, if you don’t stop with the euphemisms-“

“Stormy’s gone ape shit crazy,” my husband filled in the blanks.

Scott sits still for a minute. “Not over that asshole, she hasn’t,” he suddenly says, and the anger in his voice was beginning to frighten me a bit. Don’t get me wrong, Scott’s a great guy, but anger? That was more Wolverine’s territory. “I won’t let her go crazy over that bastard.” He tries to sit up, then howls in sheer agony. Some skin on his body must’ve broken, for suddenly spots of blood are trickling into white parts of his bandages. Being struck by lightning will do that to you, so they say.

Scott was the one who took the brunt of Ororo’s anger the night we found her, naked, beaten to a pulp and high as a kite. It was lucky for us (if you call it luck) that Scott was struck here at the Institute. It allowed us to hold Ororo down and inject her with a sedative while Beast put a collar around her neck. And only thirty-two people had to die while the weather raged out of control.

“Scott, lay down,” Beast commands. “You still have quite a few major burns all over your body.”

“I want to see Ororo,” Scott says in his fearless leader voice, a voice that was to usually be obeyed, always. Not today.

“Ororo doesn’t want to see any men, Scott,” Jean says slowly.

Scott’s jaw drops. “No men? Are you kidding?”

I shake my head. “Look at Remy’s face. He was the first one Ororo saw when she woke up.”

Scott looks over at Remy. “Damn,” he mutters. “I think I’ll stay here.” He lay back down, and Remy storms out of the room. I think about following him, but decide that he might want to be alone for a while. Instead, I stay and talk to Scott for a while, updating him on Storm’s status. “Goddamn Livingston,” Scott shakes his head after I filled him in. “Never did like that guy – didn’t I tell you he was a little too smooth and too charming, Jean?”

“Yeah, you did.” Jean looks down, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. Always wondering what did we miss, and what could we have done, and whether we should’ve spoken up sooner when we did know.

“Remember that night at the party?” Scott asks.

How the hell could any of us forget? We had a small get-together to celebrate the end of the school year, as we always did. We were all tipsy, and okay, Bobby was drunk. He spilled a drink on Ororo’s chest, but it was an accident. Ororo laughed it off, but Roderick just copped the worst attitude about it, accusing Bobby of trying to see Storm’s chest and all kinds of dumb shit. Sure, he was drunk too, but he kept pushing Bobby, almost egging him on for a fight. It got broken up, and Roderick grabbed – actually grabbed – Ororo by her arm and all but dragged her to the car, and he was so drunk that it was a wonder they made it home okay…

 *

June 3rd – Day 162

 “You were flirting!”

 “I was not! And what about you? If your face was any further in Elizabeth’s chest, you would not have been able to breathe!”

 “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you acting like a whore!”

 “Never call me that again!” A clap of thunder outside underscored Ororo’s statement.

 “Look at you. Look at the way you’re dressed. What’s up with that dress, anyway? It screams, ‘Fuck me, I’m easy.’”

 “Fuck you, Roderick!”

 “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to like that, huh?” He reached out and grabbed both her wrists, slamming her head against the wall. “Huh? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

 “Get off me!” Ororo pushed Roderick. “Stay away from me!”

 “What the hell’s the matter with you?” The slap across Ororo’s face was fast as lightning and hard as a 2x4. Ororo cried out, the entire right side of her face in pain, and she felt her entire body go numb as she hit the floor.

 ‘Ro-“

 “Don’t touch me,” she mumbled through her swollen lip. “Don’t touch me, just let me get my keys…”

 “No – oh God, ‘Ro, don’t leave, please…” Roderick fell to the floor and pulled her into a tight, almost crushing embrace. “Sorrysorrysorry…please don’t go…I’d die without you, ‘Ro, I’m so sorry…it’ll never happen again. I swear, it’ll never happen again…I’m drunk, ‘Ro, please, just come to bed…”

 She went to bed, mainly because she was too drunk to drive anywhere, and so was he. Roderick stroked her hair all night, whispering apologies. He made love to her so tenderly that she cried, feeling all her hurt and anger vanish along with the dark of night.

 “I don’t think you should go to work today,” Roderick told her the first thing next morning.

 “Why not?” she asked. It hurt to talk.

 “Your lip looks kind of bad, baby.” Roderick winced. Ororo didn’t respond. “Look, Ororo. I just don’t want a million people asking all kinds of questions. I made a mistake – a terrible mistake. But I don’t want all your friends in our business. I’ll get you some ice.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her temple, so gentle that it was nearly impossible to believe that this was the same man from last night. Roderick’s right, Ororo thought. If I go in today, everyone will be asking questions. They won’t understand that it was just an accident…

 And with that, Roderick had completed the most important step to controlling a marriage: isolation.

 *

 “Remy?”
Gambit’s sitting in Storm’s greenhouse, which was a weird thing. I can say a lot of things about my husband, but “good gardener” isn’t one of them. He’s the only guy I know that can kill plants with water. “Are you okay?” I ask him softly.

  “Leave me alone right now, Rogue.” Remy’s voice sounds strange, almost forced. He won’t turn to face me.

 “Are you okay? You want a beer?” I ask him.

 “I tol’ ya, I’m fine,” he replied tightly.

 “Sugah- ”

“I jus’ don’t wanna talk about it right now, woman!!”

 He’s crying…oh, Lord, Remy’s crying. His back is turned to me so I can’t see his face, but his shoulders are heaving with racking sobs. I know this is killing him – Storm’s rejection of him right now. “Remy,” I remind him. “It ain’t you. Storm ain’t rejectin’ you, sugah. She ain’t in her right mind. You represent Roderick right now, an’ everything else she’s afraid of.”

 “Stormy…she – she gonna get betta, ain’t she, Rogue?” He looks at me with pleading eyes, as if I was his salvation. “Tell me she’s gonna be okay…” I look into my husband’s eyes. I see all the pain he’s experiencing, watch his sister deteriorate this way. “I jus’ wanna kill him, merde…don’ deserve t’live, t’have a wife like my Stormy - ” he choked out through his tears.

“It’s okay, Remy.” I run my fingers through his hair as Remy kisses me and sinks his head into my breasts.

“She don’t wanna see me,” he stated in a small voice.

 “Remy, sugah,” I croon. “Storm’s gonna recover from this.” I squeeze him as tightly as I can, feeling his anguish, his pain, his feeling of what-could-I-have-done? “She’s a strong woman, Remy, and if anyone knows that, it’s you. This is yer Stormy,” I reminded him. “As long as she knows we’re gonna support her, she’ll pull through.”

A knock on the glass. It’s Adrienne, ‘Ro’s stepdaughter. “Hey dere, Adrienne,” Remy calls teasingly, wiping his eyes quickly. “You come t’marry me now, like you promised?”

Adrienne wags her head, her strawberry-blonde curls slinging around her head. Normally, she’d have a bright smile on her face for her Uncle Remy, but she looked solemn today.

“You need something t’eat or drink?” I ask. Adrienne shook her head again, and her dark green eyes fill with tears. “What is it, Adrienne?” I ask softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Why can’t I see Mommy Ro?” Adrienne asks me with the innocence and love that only four-year-olds possess, in my opinion. “I want to see her.”

Because your rat-bastard daddy fucked Mommy Ro up. Okay, so I didn’t say that. I wanted too, but I didn’t. “Adrienne, yo’ Mama Ro has to get lots and lots of sleep. An’ she has doctors looking at her all t’time an’ it’s no fun,” Remy said matter-of-factly. “Dey hafta look after her an’ t’new baby dat’s comin’, an’ it takes all day.” He kisses Adrienne’s cheek. “You can’ hang out wit’ me, though. We’ll get rid of your Auntie Rogue.”

“Oh, no you won’t,” I laugh. “Adrienne’s mah friend. You can leave.”

Adrienne doesn’t laugh. “Will Mommy ‘Ro ever get better?” she asks me quietly.

“Your Auntie Jean and Uncle Hank and a whole bunch of other people are trying to make your Mommy Ro betta, sugah.” I respond. I feel like this is my training to motherhood, having to ask the hard questions.

Adrienne sighs. “I miss Mommy Ro,” she said out of the blue. “I hope she gets better soon.”

So do I, Adrienne, I find myself thinking. So do I.

I was asleep when Remy got the news, and he was the one who woke me up. “Rogue,” he was saying urgently, shaking me hard enough to knock my head off. “Rogue…”

“What is it, baby?” I ask groggily as Remy pulls me out of bed, away from Adrienne. He takes me outside of our bedroom and shuts the door. That’s when I see Jean and Hank and the Professor, all awake and whispering to each other, and I know something’s wrong. Terribly wrong.  “What happened?” I ask, although I’m afraid to know the answer.

“Stormy lost the baby this morning, chere.”

“Oh, God no,” I gasp, and I grab my husband to keep from collapsing. The baby. The only thing, in my opinion, that was keeping Ororo alive for the last few days. Now she had nothing to live for anymore. “When did it happen?”

“Couple of hours ago.”

I wander over to Hank, who’s sitting in a chair, just staring into space. There’s a cup of coffee in front of him but he’s not drinking it. He looks so…lost, so utterly defeated. Hank McCoy is a man who takes pride in his work, and I knew he was taking the loss permanently. “Hank,” I try to console him, “it’s not yo’ fault.”

“Damn right it’s not my fault,” Hank says bitterly. “I didn’t kick the shit out of her.”

“Hank-“

He stands up, overturning a chair as he stalks away. I stare at the splintered wood as I hear his heavy footsteps down the hall, loud enough to wake the dead. “Let him go,” Jean says, grabbing my arm. “He’s really upset. We did everything we could, but…”

That’s when I see the blood all over her lab coat. She looks like a butcher. I feel my hands fly to my mouth. “Jean-“ I manage to gasp.

“What?” She looks down. “Oh…this.” She quietly removes her coat. More blood, all over her plain clothes. Soaked right through her coat. Shit. Shitshitshit. I’m gonna be so sick.

“Maybe you should take a hot shower an’ change clothes, oui, rouge?” Remy asks gently.

“Yeah…yeah.” Jean rubs her forehead, and bursts in an explanation. “We did everything we could…it was just a mess…the baby – the fetus, rather…it wasn’t…it wasn’t even whole. It was this…this thing, this little-“ Jean’s voice grows fast and tight.

“Jean,” Remy interrupts quickly. “Jeannie, it’s okay. It ain’t yo’ fault.”

“Hank managed to look at…pieces…under a microscope,” Jean continues, not listening to anyone. “It would’ve never lived either way. That Vicodan she took just ate at that child’s skull…it wasn’t even whole. Not that it would’ve mattered.” Jean runs a hand through her hair, and I can see little flecks of brown under her nails…more blood. “I think Roderick may have concentrated on one side of her body when he kicked her…her left ovary had completely burst. Goddamn it, Remy. Who would’ve thought…” And Jean bursts into tears.

I can’t cry. Crying would be admitting that I believe that all of this is happening. This all feels too unreal. This has to be the worst nightmare of my life, and the longest. Why hasn’t someone waken me up yet? Jean’s just bawling, with her best friend’s blood and baby all over her clothes, and Remy looks so helpless…as if he would die to stop all this madness. Because that’s what it all is, madness.

I know what I’ll do. I’ll go back to bed, and close my eyes and go to sleep. And when I wake up, I’ll have my husband next to me, with his hands around my stomach, where my baby is growing. And I’ll get up, and I’ll go to the kitchen, and Ororo will be there, fixing breakfast for everyone, sharing a joke with Logan or Bobby. And she’ll be just fine, with all her hair and her mind intact, and maybe we’ll go see a movie, or go shopping with Jean. We haven’t gone out together in the longest. We’ll go get our hair done, and our hand and our feet, and maybe Jean will finally get that cute haircut that’s she’s been wanting for a while. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go back to sleep and wait for someone to wake me up. Because none of this is really happening, it’s only a nightmare…

*

“Are you nervous?”

“Nervous? Me? Never.”

“Good, ‘cause it’s about to be on and poppin’.” Roderick smiled at his wife as the limousine door opened and he stepped out. In his arms was a smiling, bright-eyed Adrienne. They were attending the premiere of the latest family movie and nearly every New York celebrity who was anybody was there.  Roderick stopped to wave at the crowd, which was beginning to get a bit hysterical. Ororo smiled at the teenaged girls who began to shriek and collapse.

“Big Rod! Big Rod! Are the Jets going all the way this year?” Cameras flashed, and microphones were stuck in from of Roderick’s face.

“I hope so,” Roderick answered back. “We’ve got a great team, and starting on Monday, I know we’ll get the best training and guidance from our coaches and staff at training camp.”

“Go Jets!” Adrienne added cheerfully, and the crowd laughed.

“Big Rod, how you feel to have the largest shoe endorsement in the history of the New York Jets?”

“Feels good. Means my little girl can go to the best college money can buy in a few years. Now excuse me, I’ve come to see the movie with my wife and daughter. No more questions.”

“But Big Rod! Big Rod!”

Ororo’s door opened without warning. She looked up, and instead of a limo driver, her husband stood before her. Roderick offered his hand, his brown eyes full of warmth and support. “Do yo’ thang; don’t be skurred,” he told her.

“Come on, Mommy Ro!” Adrienne called from behind her father. “We’re gonna miss the movie!”

Ororo took a deep breath and stood up. Sheer pandemonium ripped through Sony Theater as cameras flashed. The song in the background changed from Bubba Sparxx’s “Ugly” to Prince’s “The Most Beautiful Girl In The World.” Ororo was dazzling in a pair of tight-fitting leather pants, a midriff shirt, and four-inch stilettos. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that grazed her slender waist.

“Mrs. Livingston! Mrs. Livingston!” The press began snapping pictures as Roderick held his wife’s hand. Ororo felt a small stab of pain in her right knee. A couple of nights ago, she had gotten into a shouting match with Roderick and he kicked her. It was frightening then, but Ororo could laugh about it now, though – a grown man kicking like a little child! She had a bruise on her lower leg, and her knee was lightly wrapped. Now, she wished she had wrapped it a bit tighter.

“There’s his wife – the mutant!”

“Geez, what a looker!

“Mrs. Livingston!” The press was relentless. Flash bulbs began to blind Ororo, and she staggered. The pain in her knee shot through her body, and in the confusion, her hands flew to her face. “Adrienne!” Ororo called when she realized she no longer had her stepdaughter’s hand. Goddess, I cannot see a thing! “Adrienne!”

“Hey, get some pics of the kid!”

“No!” Roderick lunged for his daughter, scooping her in his arms. “Ororo!”

They were separated now, and these members of the demon press surrounded Ororo, pressing into her personal space. “Mrs. Livingston! Have you ever taken a life? Mrs. Livingston, are you a threat to others? Mrs. Livingston, is it true that you are an Alpha mutant, one of the most powerful mutants in the world?”

Too close…way too close… “Please,” Ororo whispered, her breath beginning to quicken. “Please stand back…let me breathe…”

They weren’t hearing her. “Mrs. Livingston?” Reporters grabbing at her wrist, placing cameras an inch away from her face and flashing pictures.

“Roderick, help me!” Ororo cried. Her back was against a wall. People surrounded her – click! Click! Click! Ororo crouched in a corner, covering her face, her sensitive eyes whiting over by reflex at the flashing bulbs.

“Ororo? Ororo! GET BACK!” Roderick began to scream at the press. “Dammit, get back! My wife needs air!” He began to claw at the backs of reporters, shoving them out of her way. “Get back, motherfuckers, get back!”

KRA-KOWWWW! Ororo let out a scream as thunder shook the sky. “Get away from me!” she cried as lightning tore across the evening sky.

“What’s she doing?”

“God, her eyes! They’re glowing!”

“She’s gonna kill us all!”

“Run!”

A full-fledged stampede ensued. Ororo laid on the ground, sweat lining her face as the vibrations of pounding feet made the ground shake. Goddess, please don’t let anyone be hurt! She struggled to get back to her feet, Roderick by her side. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked, taking her arm as she stood up shakily. He kissed her sweat-drenched bangs. “My baby…”

 Baby… “Adrienne!” Ororo gasped.

“She’s right here. She’s okay.” Roderick helped Ororo to her feet. “Take deep breaths, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re here.”

Memories of bomb blasts, dust, and carnage slowly faded from Ororo’s mind. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, Ororo. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“The press…oh, dear goddess…” Ororo moaned. “They are going to have a field day with this.”

“Doesn’t matter.  I love you, Ororo,” Roderick declared, staring into his wife’s eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

*

“We’ve moved her here,” Jean is speaking in a flat monotone. “Right now, we have to monitor her blood levels. She’s conscious, but barely. She’s so drugged up that I doubt if she knows her own name. Now the-”

“Is she gonna be okay?” Remy interrupts.

“Define ‘okay.’ If you’re asking me if she’s going to live, the answer is probably.”

“Probably? Why probably?” I ask. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“Well, right now it’s kind of up to Ororo. We can’t force her to stay alive. And to be honest…I really don’t think she wants to live.”

“Jean, there’s gotta be something you can do,” I shake my head. I’m not believing this. No way Storm’s gonna die. No way…

“Rogue, we can hook Ororo up to every IV in the world. But we can’t make her live. She has to want that on her own. She’s lost a lot of blood, and she’s tired. She’s not responding very well to the IVs – almost like her body is rejecting them.”

“Then try somethin’ else!” Remy thunders.

“Remy, if it were that easy, we would’ve done it hours ago. Don’t you think?”

Remy doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gets this look on his face, and I find myself growing very nervous. I know that look. That’s the look of redemption. That’s the look of revenge. That’s the look that someone’s going to pay for what they did to Ororo.

And to make matters even worse, Wolverine just walked in the door.

*

Ororo lay on her plush sharkskin couch with an ice pack on her knee. Adrienne lay next to her, curled under Ororo’s arm, sucking her thumb. “I don’t like it when Daddy and Mommy fight,” she mumbled, not taking her thumb from her mouth.

“Neither do I, sweetheart.” Ororo sighed and ran her fingers through Adrienne’s hair.

“Yes, she can control herself! It was like a reflex – you know, if someone grabs you from behind, you jump? Stop thinking like a crack whore!”

“What’s a crack whore?”

“Nothing, Adrienne. Roderick! For the love of the goddess, watch your language.” Ororo yelled, but a moment too late. Roderick had slammed the phone back in its receiver.

“I’m sorry babe.” Roderick sat in a chair and buried his face in his hands. “She says she’s pushing for full custody of Adrienne. She wants to take my little girl away! She thinks you’re going to hurt her.”

“I would never hurt Adrienne – I love her!” Ororo was stunned. “Why would she say those kinds of things?”

“She ain’t takin’ my girl. Hold that thought.” Roderick answered the phone for what had to be the billionth time that day. Ororo had asked him to turn the ringers off, but Roderick refused. “Baby, if I don’t answer the phones, the press’ll be sleeping on our lawn,” he had told her. And even with Roderick taking questions from the press, there were still reporters outside their newly brownstone in Tribeca, trying to take pictures. Ororo had to shut every window and drape in the house.

“Yes, I absolutely support my wife 100%. No, she is not a danger to human society. If the reporters would’ve gotten out of her way and stayed the hell out of her face, she wouldn’t have gotten scared! Yes, she can control her powers!”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Ororo gently shook the moody toddler next to her. “Let’s get you a warm bath and get you to bed, okay? It’s getting late, and you’ve had a big day.”

“I wanna take a bath with you in the big bathtub,” Adrienne piped up as Ororo carried Adrienne down the hallway.

“All right. I could use a relaxing bath myself.” Ororo took a quick U-turn and walked into her bathroom – a spacious, relaxing place Roderick had built just for her. It was filled with lush, green plants and exotic flowers, expensive African art and the finest things a woman could ever dream of. Truly, this was a place for Ororo to relax, and it was Ororo’s second favorite place in their new house, right after her greenhouse.

Ororo filled the huge whirlpool with warm water. “Can we have the powder?” Adrienne asked excitedly, peering into the swirling blue water.

Ororo rarely used the aromatherapy powder; it was rather expensive and normally for special occasions only, but Adrienne loved how the powder made the water change color. She tilted the glass bottle, and the water turned into a lovely shade of purple, brimming with lavender bubbles.

Ororo undressed Adrienne and set her in the bathtub, then began to undress herself. Ororo would never raise a child to be ashamed of her body. The western theories baffled her. As a child, she bathed in the river with her mother all the time; it was one of the most tender, beautiful memories she had. In a lake a few miles down from her house in Cairo, Ororo’s mother had taught her to swim, to float on her back, to blow bubbles underwater and to hold her breath for extended periods of time.

Now she sat in her whirlpool, her stepdaughter between playing with floating ships, babbling happily to herself. “Oh, no, the big whale is going to eat us!” Adrienne was telling the tragic (and repetitive) tale of the sailors at sea, such as it was. “What are we going to do? If only a big storm would come and drown the whale!”

The whale was actually a rubber duck. Ororo smiled at the thought that water would kill a water mammal, but went with it anyway. She outstretched her hand, and a tiny rain cloud began to pour over the plastic yellow toy.

“Yay!” Adrienne squealed as Ororo turned the rain to snow, from snow to a small hurricane, and then back to rain again. “Must you kill it?” Ororo asked. “Why can’t it be a nice whale that guides the sailors to safety?”

“Okay.”  Adrienne leaned her head against Ororo’s chest, still splashing around. “What happened to your knee, Mommy Ro?” she asked innocently.

Ororo glanced down. An ugly black-and-blue bruise glared up at her. “I bumped my leg against a coffee table,” Ororo found herself saying.

“Want me to kiss it? Daddy kissed my knee when I fell and made it allllll better.” Adrienne looked at Ororo, smiling.

“Sure, Adrienne.”

Adrienne bent forward and kissed Ororo’s knee with a loud smacking noise. “Mmm-WAH! Feel better? Ah! I can taste the water – it’s nasty!” Adrienne made a face.

“It feels much better, Adrienne, thank you.” Ororo tilted Adrienne’s chin and kissed her forehead. Adrienne giggled with delight, turned around and kissed Ororo’s cheek. Her skin was slippery against Ororo’s. “Adrienne, tomorrow you’re going to spend the day with your Aunt Jean and your Uncle Scott, okay?”

“Okay. I like Aunt Jean and Uncle Scott. He gives me ice cream, and Aunt Jean paints my fingernails. Mommy Ro?”

“Yes?” Ororo had concentrated on scrubbing the child’s shoulders and back. The aromatherapy was beginning to affect the toddler; she was yawning every so often and blinking her eyes. Ororo was beginning to feel a bit drowsy herself.

“Why come we couldn’t see the movie?”

“How come, Adrienne, say it.”

“How come we couldn’t see the movie?”

“Because of the storm.”

“How come the people got scared of the storm?”

Ororo sighed and began to braid Adrienne’s hair. “Adrienne, remember when your daddy and I explained to you that I could do things that other people can’t do?” Adrienne bobbed her head up and down. “Well, I made the storm, just like I made the storm a minute ago. I didn’t mean to, but the people with the cameras were so close to me that I got scared.”

“I hate them. They’re mean.” Adrienne yawned. “They take pictures and they make my eyes hurt and they make my mommy say bad things.”

“You should never hate anyone, Adrienne. But I don’t like them either.” Ororo stood up, picking up a half-asleep Adrienne. She dried Adrienne off first, then herself. Scooping the child up, Ororo pulled on her ever-present silk robe and carried Adrienne to her bedroom. Ororo always thought that clothes for sleeping was quite silly too, and Adrienne was way too tired to be woken up and clothed. Ororo placed Adrienne in her bed, pulling the pink lace covers over her naked body. “Good night, dear heart,” she whispered in Adrienne’s ear, kissing her gently.

Strong arms wrapped around Ororo’s waist. “What a day, huh?” Roderick murmured into Ororo’s hand, kissing her neck.

“It was like one of my worst nightmares.” Ororo turned around, placing her head on Roderick’s chest as he squeezed her tightly. “I thought, after all this time, that I had control over my claustrophobia, but-”

“Those reporters were invading your space.” Roderick kissed his wife’s forehead. “Anyone would’ve reacted that way – well, anyone who had control over the weather.”

“Thank you, Roderick.”

“For what?”

“For understanding.”

“Of course. You smell so good,” Roderick added, holding Ororo tighter. He kissed her, a hard, deep kiss that took Ororo’s breath away. Roderick’s hands played with Ororo’s nipples through the off-white silk, and Ororo closed her eyes as delicious sensations warmed her breasts.

“Not here, Roderick,” Ororo murmured when Roderick’s hands began to drift below her navel. “Somewhere else…”

“Baby, I need you now…”

“Goddess, Roderick, not in your daughter’s bedroom!” Ororo pushed Roderick away.

“Ororo, I know my baby girl. She’s out like a light.” Roderick’s hands found Ororo’s opening. He slid his fingers inside her, and Ororo tensed. It was like…an invasion. “Roderick, no…” she began, but he wasn’t listening; whispering, “Five minutes, just five minutes, baby you got me so hard I can’t even walk anywhere…”

The doorbell rang, and Roderick snatched his hand from under Ororo’s robe. Ororo all but fled to answer it. Thank you, Bright Lady, Ororo thought as she opened the door.  “Good evening, Mrs. Livingston.” It was Stumpy Carson, Roderick’s agent. “How are you feeling?”

“I am…better, thank you.” Ororo pulled her robe tighter around her body, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious.

“And Rod’s little girl?”

“She is asleep. Quite confused about today’s events, naturally.”

“I’ll bet.” Stumpy sighed, absent-mindedly. “Listen…is Rod here?”

“I’m here.” Roderick appeared from Adrienne’s bedroom. “Just putting the little one to bed. What’s doing on, Stump?”

“Big Rod,” Stumpy smiled, then it faded considerably. “Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll cut straight to the point. Nike pulled out this morning. They don’t want you endorsing their shoes anymore.”

“What!?”

“They said…they said they couldn’t endorse you as long as you were married to a mutant.”

“But-but-but…” Roderick sputtered. “This was supposed to be my big payday! This is supposed to be my year! Me! Big Rod! Training camp starts in three days! They-they-they can’t do this to me!”

“Like I said, I’m sorry,” Stumpy said softly, and left.

My goddess… “Roderick, I’m sorry,” Ororo said, reaching for her husband, who smacked her arm away.

“What the fuck!” Roderick exploded, clenching and unclenching his fists. “How can they just pull my endorsement like that! Piece of shit faggots – every one of those fruity-ass motherfuckers-”

“Roderick, you’ll get another contract-“

Ororo, do you know what this could do to my career? I can’t believe this shit…I cannot fucking believe this…” Roderick turned and faced his wife, his dark eyes cold. “Wait a minute. This is your fault.”

“Roderick, I said I am sorry.” Ororo flopped on the couch, exasperated at this point. “There isn’t exactly much more I can do about it.” The telephone rang. “I’ll get it.” Ororo leaned over and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Ro, it’s Jean. I saw the news – is everything okay?”

“Roderick lost his endorsement – they don’t want to endorse him as long as he’s married to a mutant.”

“What? That can’t be legal! Can’t you sue Nike for breach of contract?”

The phone was jerked from Ororo’s hand, and she jumped as Roderick boomed into the receiver, “She’s busy.” Roderick clicked the button, then hurled the phone across the room.

“Roderick! What on earth-“

“Why the fuck you gotta be on the phone, tellin’ all our business?”

“Jean is my best friend-“

“Jean’s the redhead, right? Can’t stand her. She’s always running her damned mouth – she talks too damned much. And what’s the other one’s name – Vogue or Rogue or some crazy-ass shit?” Roderick spat the name out. “I don’t know what the hell is the matter with her husband – she’s always shooting off at the mouth, putting her nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m sick of her calling this house, asking to talk to you all the fuckin’ time. Silly little bitch needs to worry about her own husband.”

“Now hold on!” Ororo stood up. “My friends are not bitches!”

“Oh!” Roderick said, almost jovially. “Okay, so you’re the only one.”

Silence. Ororo walked to the closet and pulled out her new jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some air,” Ororo said flatly.

“Where are you going?” Roderick repeated.

“I’m going to the Institute.”

“You’re not even dressed. Besides, I don’t want you there.”

“I didn’t ask you where you wanted me!” Ororo snapped, her nerves officially frayed.

“What – what did you just say?” Roderick’s long legs strode across the room in a flash. He grabbed Ororo by her wrist, squeezing so tightly that Ororo nearly screamed. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Ororo felt her mouth go dry. “Please,” she implored. “I do not want a fight, Roderick, I just want some air.”

“Uh-huh, and you think you can talk to me any way you want? Huh?” SMACK! Ororo’s head hit the wall as Roderick grabbed the collar of her robe. She felt the draft as the buttons popped and the expensive fabric tore all the way to her navel “Answer me, you white-haired freak!”

“No!” Ororo cried, but not fast enough. The other side of her face felt Roderick’s wrath. She felt her neck snap back, tasted the blood collecting in her lower left cheek.

“I lost my endorsement over you, damn it.” Roderick collected a handful of her hair. “And I’ll be goddamned if I let you talk to me like you don’t have any fucking sense in your head in my motherfucking house!”

“Roderick, I’m sorry-” Ororo found herself gasping. The pain collecting behind her eyes was overwhelming, to say the least. It felt like someone had started a fire in the back of her head.

“Sorry doesn’t get me my contract back!” Roderick screamed, his face half an inch from hers. He jerked her head backward, and Ororo shrieked from the sudden pain. “Get that through your head before I get it there for you!” He balled his fist up and reared backward. “I swear to God, Ororo-“

“Goddess, Roderick, please!” Ororo shrieked hysterically. “Please, Roderick, I’m sorry!” Sobbing openly, Ororo squeezed her eyes shut, bringing her face up and bracing herself for the hit. It never came. Instead, she was swept up in his arms. “Ororo…Ororo…” Roderick was moaning into her hair. “Ro…I’m so sorry…I’m not mad at you…what am I doing…oh, God…”

She was way too grateful to be angry. She was way too grateful to be anything but happy as he carried her to their bedroom so Roderick could finish what he started in his own child’s bedroom.

It never once dawned on Ororo to use her powers to defend herself.

Later, there wasn’t a part of her face that wasn’t in extreme pain. It hurt to talk, hurt to blink – shit, it hurt to breathe. Roderick was lying behind her, his arms wrapped possessively around her waist. He told her it gave him comfort.

But what gave Ororo comfort?

“If you ever leave me,” he had murmured in her ear, “I would kill myself. You know that. You would never do that to me, would you, Ororo? It would destroy me. You love me, don’t you? Even when I’m bad, you love me, right? You would never leave me, right?”

Kisses. Kisses for her bruised skin, for the swollen knots on her face. She would have to call in sick again. Thank God a part of her mutation allowed for quick healing and no scarring. “I love you, Roderick,” she found herself saying through her swollen lip.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like you bring out the worst in me, but only ‘cause I love you so fuckin’ much...you fuck with my mind, Wind Rider.” Kisses on her bare breasts, her stomach. “I don’t want to hurt you…” Kisses on her inner thighs, his tongue swirling up and down her feminine flesh. “I swear, I’ll never touch you again…”

It meant nothing. Ororo felt nothing. When he entered her, she was dry as a desert. But she knew the routine. Clutch his back, moan, shudder and cry. It was all by rote.

“I can’t lose you, ever. I don’t want you ‘roun those cats no more, those X-Men” he demanded sleepily. “What you do is dangerous. I can’t have you leaving me. I’ll kill myself if you leave me. You better not ever even think about leaving me. I’ll find you. Don’t ever think about leaving me.”

Leave him? Leave him and go where? She was Ororo Livingston, wife of the famous New York Jet. Everywhere she went, there were cameras, photographers, and journalists. They camped out in front of their home, in front of the Institute, in front of Adrienne’s preschool. She couldn’t leave. She didn’t have that option.

Ororo lay awake in bed for well over an hour, until his iron grip slacked off her waist. Ororo staggered into the bedroom, her knee in serious pain now. She’d have to see a doctor. Ororo stared at herself in the mirror and winced. Her left eye was swelling rapidly, and her lip was cut. She knew her lip would be healed in a couple of days, but her eye was beginning to turn color.

It would be okay. Training camp was starting in four days. He would have to leave her, and drop Adrienne off with her mother while he was away. Sure, Ororo would be lonely without Adrienne to keep her company, but she welcomed the vacation away from Roderick. And when he comes back, he’ll feel more assured of his place on the team. He’d get another endorsement. He would smile again. He’ll love me again, the way he used to…

*

“Excuse me,” Remy says, walking to the hallway where Logan’s standing. Logan is leaning against a wall, his eyes red and full of bags. The two begin to talk softly, but no one could mistake the angry gestures.

“Rogue, you don’t think…” Jean asks me.

“Oh, no…” I run out into the hallway.  “Guys, Ah know you two ain’t thinkin’ about doin’ anything crazy, like goin’ after Storm’s husband.”

“Baby, get on back inside with Stormy,” my husband says to me. “Right now, the less you know, the better.”

“Ah cain’t leave! You two are about ta do somethin’ stupid!” I grab Remy’s arm. “Please, please don’t go doin’ anything rash.”

Logan’s been pacing the hall for a hot minute now. “Rogue, the less you know about this, the better…”

“What is this, ancient times? The wild, wild west? This is a human being we’re talkin’ about here!” I find myself screaming.

“A human being! Does a human being do that to a woman?” Logan explodes at me, jabbing his finger toward Ororo’s body. “Does a human being rape his own wife – hos own pregnant wife?” He stalks into the room where Ororo lies. Whether she’s asleep or awake, we don’t really know – Ororo’s eyes are so swollen that they look closed. “Human being, my ass. He’s a goddamned animal – a fuckin’ rabid dog.”

“An’ he should be taken out into an empty field an’ shot,” Remy adds, “jus’ like a rabid dog.”

“Shooting’s too good for that motherfucker. He oughta die real slow. God,” Logan murmurs, stroking Ororo’s hair – or what’s left of it, anyway. Logan takes Ororo’s wired hand in his. “I don’t care what she did to make Roderick mad. I don’t care if she keyed up his Bentley or talked about his mama, or keyed up his mama’s Bentley. She didn’t deserve this. No, no, no.” Logan kisses Ororo’s hand. “Some things are a crime. And some things are just a fuckin’ travesty, ya know? It’s like, it’s wrong to murder someone. But to murder a nun, or a teacher or a kid…it’s just worse somehow. Now the baby’s dead, and yer tellin’ me ‘Ro may not make it through okay, an’ I’m supposed to sit on my ass? What for? Is he gonna swing by an’ say he’s sorry? For what he did to Storm? For One-Eye, layin’ up with third-degree burns on his body? For abandoning one child, an’ killin’ the other? No,” Logan said through clenched teeth. “Fuck no. I’m not waiting fer the cops to arrest him. We’re gonna give him some backwoods Canadian style justice.”

“Wit’ a twist of Cajun craziness. Don’ leave me outta t’party. He’s gotta pay. A life for a life,” I hear my husband say – my husband, who’s talking about taking another man’s life. And I know there’s no talking them out of it. No feminine wiles are gonna keep my husband home. Not this time.

And the worst part is, I don’t really know if I want to talk them out of this or not.

*

July 10th

Day 195

“Ororo!”

Ororo froze. She had only come back to the Institute for a few minutes, flying in through her former attic bedroom. She was almost to her car when Rogue spotted her, running at breakneck speed to catch up with her. Out of character, Rogue threw her arms around Ororo in a hug. “Ah haven’t seen ya in a million years, girl! Prof says you’ve been sick – are you okay?”

“Rogue, hello.” Ororo returned Rogue’s hug, albeit nervously. “I am fine. I had a stomach flu, but it cleared itself up.”

“Good enough t’go shoppin’. Jeannie says she thought she saw ya at the mall, but she wasn’t sure cuz she couldn’t see yer hair” Rogue winked and laughed. “Oh, I won’t tell anyone, Stormy! ‘Bout time ya started actin’ lak a bad girl. Ah’d spend up all mah big, rich, handsome husband’s money, too!”

“I think you need a big, rich, handsome husband first,” Ororo teased gently.

“Hey, one out of three ain’t bad – Jezus pleezus, what the hell happened to your eye?!?” Rogue gasped, snatching Ororo’s sunglasses from her face.

“Danger Room,” Ororo said smoothly. “I wasn’t paying attention and I got clipped on the eye.”

“Good night, that must’ve been some hit. Hey, you still comin’ with Jeannie an’ me to the Mutant Rights Banquet on Thursday, aincha?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I cannot make it. Being sick had gotten me very far behind in grading papers.”

“Where ya goin’ now?”

“Starbucks. I need something to eat.”

“Why don’t you eat with us? We’re about t’have breakfast!”

“No…” Ororo shook her head. “I…I cannot, I-”

“Well, don’t work too hard. We’ll tell ya how it all goes – Jean and me’ll probably just sit around and make fun of how people dress. Bye!” Rogue called as she jogged off

Ororo sat in her car. For just a minute, she could imagine her students in her room again, laughing and throwing spitballs at each other. She could see the guys in the middle of their poker game, swimming in the lake with Bobby and Logan, seeing how far they could swing her into the lake. It had been ages since she hung out with her friends. It seemed like a lifetime ago. But Roderick didn’t want her here. If he knew I was here right now…what if someone tells him? Tears slid down Ororo’s cheeks as she drove away, but she had no idea why she was crying.

*

“Hey babe,” Remy called as Rogue came into the kitchen. “Here’s your orange juice, fresh from the refrigerator.”

“Thanks, sugah.” Rogue kissed her gloved fingertips and pressed them to her husband’s lips. “Storm’s here – or she was. She just left.”

“Really?” Logan asked, wolfing down his steak and eggs. “Wonder why she didn’t come down to say hi. You would think with her husband gone and their little girl at their mama’s, that she’d he hurtin’ fer some company.”

“Well, Storm’s always been a bit of a hermit,” Scott replied. “I don’t see why that would change now.”

“Yeah, but she seems…different. Lak she ain’t herself.” Rogue murmured.

“What makes you say that?” Scott asked. “She seems fine to me, although now that I think of it, I haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to her in ages.”

“Ah know she likes her privacy an’ all, but she usually stays in touch. Ah’m just a little worried about her, that’s all,” Rogue added. “Ah mean, has anyone seen that bruise on her face from the Danger Room? Ah think she’s workin’ herself too hard, missin’ Roderick an’ all. Storm would neva make that kind of error, not in a million years. Ah think she’s distracted.”

“What are you talking about, the Danger Room?” Scott drained his coffee and refilled the cup. “The Danger Room’s been down for two weeks.”

“What?”

“Maintenance. I’ve been working on it with Logan since the 18th of June.”

For a moment, Rogue heard nothing. She saw Scott’s lips moving, but nothing was coming out. Why…why would she lie to me? “…so what’s this about a bruise on Ro’s face?” Logan asked.

“Nothin…Ah must’ve got it wrong.” Rogue jumped up. “Excuse me, fellas.”

* Ororo hadn’t been at her table for more than ten minutes when Rogue strode in, slamming the door behind her. “The Danger Room’s been down, Ro – you lied t’me!” she yelled, pointing her finger at Ororo, and making everyone stare. Ororo could already hear the whispers: “Isn’t that Rod Livingston’s wife?”

“I got the bruise before the Room went down. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t yell at me – and get your finger out of my face.”

“Ya got that black eye before the room went down, huh?” Rogue pulled up a chair, her eyes narrowed.

“Do join me for breakfast, Rogue,” Ororo said sarcastically.

“Ah ain’t hungry. Now, about yer eye. Ya said ya hurt it in t’Danger Room?”

 “Yes, isn’t that what I said?”

“What day?” Rogue folded her arms, awaiting an answer.

“Excuse me?”

“Ya got a black eye. All injuries in t’Danger Room hafta be reported, so you must’ve seen Hank. What day was it?”

“I…last Saturday!”

“Danger Room was closed on that day. Try again.”

“The 10th!”

“Uh-uh. That’s too long ago. With yer powers, that bruise would’ve been long healed.” Rogue cocked an eyebrow. “Care t’go for a third strike, Mrs. Livingston?” Ororo grew quiet. “Uh-huh, that’s what Ah thought. Now how did that bruise get on yo’ face!? And how did you get that bruise on your leg?”

“I bumped into my desk!”

“See, that’s funny. Cuz when Jean babysat Adrienne last week, she said you bumped your knee against a coffee table.”

Ororo’s eyes grew wide, realizing her mistake. “Ah’ll ask ya again, Ororo,” Rogue repeated slowly. “How did you get that bruise on yer leg, an’ how did you get that black eye?”

“Who are you, my mother? I do not have to answer to you!”

“Where did the bruises come from, Ro?”

“I…I don’t know!” Storm threw her arm in the air.

“Ya don’t know? Ya don’t know! What, ya weren’t there?”

“I do not have to take this from you,” Ororo hissed, standing up.

Rogue grabbed her wrist, and jerked Ororo back in her chair. “Don’t get all goddess-y with me when Ah’m askin’ ya a question, okay? It tends to piss me off.”

“I told you, Rogue,” Ororo replied calmly. “I do not know. That is my answer, and you cannot force me to say anything else.”

“Ha!” Rogue scoffed. “Well, Ah’ll be damned! That’s just grand! Ya have a black eye and a bruised leg and you have no idea how it got there?” Rogue cocked a brow, her eyes cold. “You think Roderick knows how it got there?

For a moment, their eyes locked. The color drained from Ororo’s face, giving her an ashen look. Rogue’s sarcastic words suddenly look a whole new meaning. “Storm…please, please, please tell me Roderick isn’t hitting you.”

“That’s preposterous,” Ororo blurted quickly. Too quickly.

“You’re lying!”

“And what if I am!? Goddamn it, Rogue – what the hell business is it of yours? When did the name on the bills suddenly start saying Rogue LeBeau?”

“You have a man beatin’ on you an yer mad at me?”

“Stop saying that! He is not beating on me! We have had a couple of arguments-”

“Storm, will you listen to yourself!” Rogue grabbed Ororo’s shoulders and began to shake her wildly. “Ororo…Storm, please. Listen ta me, please. Yer mah best friend an’ ya know Ah love ya ta death, buy yer in real trouble…”

“It’s my trouble!” Storm grabbed Rogue’s arms, tears running down her face. “It’s my trouble, Rogue, and it’s my marriage and my husband, and with the grace of the bright Lady, we will work it out! Not you or Remy or anyone else, so please don’t say anything, okay?”

Rogue stood dumbstruck.  “Ya…ya can’t be serious…”

“Rogue, please! I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone.”

“Ah…Ah…got it, boss,” Rogue whispered.

“Good,” Ororo said, then tossed some money on the table and left Starbucks without another word.

*

CRASH! “What the hell was that!?” Logan asks.

We could hear howling all the way up the hall. “I have to see her! Dammit, let go of me! MOVE!”

It’s Robert. “Bobby, stop this!” Remy’s trying to restrain Bobby, but Bobby’s way too determined. Ororo is one of his closest friends, and he’s been away for a week, visiting his family. Someone upstairs must’ve told Bobby was what going on. “Drake, cut it out!” Logan’s yelling. “There ain’t no way yer getting past – OOMPH!”

Too late. With a blast of ice, Bobby slides right past Logan and makes it into the room where Ororo’s sleeping. Bobby half-stumbles into the hospital room. “I’m sorry,” he’s whispering, crying on his knees. “I’m so sorry…this is all my fault…”

“Bobby,” Jean takes Bobby’s hand. “Bobby, this isn’t your fault. Roderick’s a sick man, and he was jealous of your friendship with Ororo.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Robert,” the professor points out kindly. He’s followed Bobby down the hall. “Roderick would’ve done this to Ororo no matter what.”

“Prof…what the fuck are you talking about? What the fuck do you know?”

We were stunned. It wasn’t like Bobby to treat Professor Xavier with such disrespect. He’s an X-Man, one of the original five. “Bobby,” Remy says. “We know you upset, but dat don’ give you t’right’ t’talk…”

“Oh shut the fuck up! All of you, just shut up!”

“Watch it, Ice Bucket, yer pushin’ it!” Logan yells. “Now, we’re all mad, but-”

“Why don’t your sit your runty bitch ass down!?”

My jaw drops. Bobby’s eyes are blazing, and he’s all but foaming at the mouth. “You know nothing! All of you stupid fucks saw her every day and didn’t know shit! Rod didn’t beat Ororo because we’re friends – he beat her because we’re fucking!”

Chapter Four: Jekell, Meet Hyde

Ever hear of a situation going from bad to worse? It seems to be the motto of us X-Men. We don’t get shitty situations - oh, no. We are the magnets of the worse-case scenario. Take now. It’s not bad enough that ‘Ro had to get some asshole who’s from the Slap-a-ho Tribe. She had to go and marry some guy whose role model is OJ Simpson. And now, we’ve got a third party in the mix - a third party who apparently didn’t know or care that Ororo was married to a selfish, jealous, egotistical maniac because he just wanted to get his rocks off. Oh, the fun we have here at Xavier’s.

“You and Storm are havin’ an affair?” Logan asks.

“Yes! Yes, I’m sleeping with Ororo. What, you thought I was gay?”

Logan doesn’t answer. None of us do. But we’re all thinking the same thing.

Jean finally breaks the silence. “Bobby…how could you? How could you sleep with a married woman- especially that married woman? How could sleep with a psychotic man’s wife?”

“Oh, poor Roderick! How he must have suffered!” Bobby spits. “What, Storm didn’t know she was married? Or maybe she forgot, since her husband forgot that he was married! Hey! I have an idea! Let’s ask her! Oh, that’s right, she can’t fucking talk! You know, pardon me for bringing this up, but aren’t we focused on the wrong shit?”

“Robert, how on earth did this happen?” Professor Xavier interrupts.

“Well, let’s see. First, I kissed her. Then I laid her on her bed. Then she unzipped my…”

“Can it, Ice Turd. You know what Chuck meant.” Logan shoots back.

“Why are you asking me this right now? Does it really matter?” Bobby’s kneeling at Ororo’s side, her right hand in his. “This is what he did to my love, so whatever I did, it wasn’t that fucking bad in comparison! God, Ororo, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” he’s whispering over and over, stroking her ragged, brittle hair.

“A woman I love like a daughter is lying here, half dead, and I learn that you were sleeping with her. Oh, yes. I say it matters,” the professor answers in a voice that I rarely hear him use. “I say it matters a lot.”

“Prof, I don’t know how it happened. And that’s the truth. How do all affairs start out? Roderick wasn’t here, and I was, and she needed somebody to be there for her…”

“So what, it was all a sexual thing?” I question. Storm just doesn’t strike me as the “voracious sexual appetite” type.

Bobby glares at me, then turns to Charles. “Can I talk to you alone?” he asks, shooting daggers in my direction. Let him be mad at me. Fuck him.

“Sure thing, Robert. Excuse us, my X-Men.” Bobby takes a hold of the prof’s wheelchair and they leave. I turn my attention back to Storm. My God, what had she been thinking? Cheat on Roderick? We all knew Rod had a screw loose - why would she take such a risk? What made her think he wouldn't find out?

And had it been worth it? Was the sex between those two good enough to nearly die for?

*

Oooh baby you want me!?

Oooh baby you want me!?

Oooh baby you want me!?

Well you can get this lap dance here for free

Well you can get this lap dance here for free…

“Thank…you…Jesus.”

Ororo giggled as she wrapped her legs around Roderick’s waist. “Jesus is busy. He told me to tell you that you’re welcome.”

“Well, whoever it was. Jesus, the Bright Lady, ya mama…baby girl, you could suck the chrome off a pipe.” Roderick planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek, hugging her tightly. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” Ororo confessed shyly. “I just wanted to do something…special. It’s not every day you sign a multi-million dollar endorsement, you know.”

“Damn that Stumpy. The man never could keep his mouth shut. Why is he my agent, anyway?”

“Because he looks out for you and he loves you like a son,” Ororo reminded Roderick.

“Hmm. You’re right. And that’s why I love you.” Roderick pulled Ororo close to him, pressing her bare breasts against his heated skin. “Mmm, training camp was such a bitch. Coach made us do yoga this summer at camp…I liked it, I…it gave me peace of mind. But I still missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Ororo replied, and was surprised at how double-sided her statement was. She had missed Roderick, and yet…Ororo had been able to catch up on her reading, tend to her garden, take long drives along the seashore and really think, and even visit with her friends. But briefly…only briefly and on rare occasions. She didn’t want word to get back to Roderick that she was spending time at the Institute.

Still, she had missed Roderick - missed him so much that her head hurt some days. She would lie in her bed, curled up in a ball, with her body on fire - just aching for her husband’s touch. Roderick was as much a part of her as her heart or her lungs, and being without his booming laugh or his funny jokes was a taxing chore she could do without. Ororo spent a lot of time writing Roderick letters in her small manuscript on scented colored stationary. It was mainly because she despised computers and modern technology. Ororo always felt that there was nothing romantic about printing out e-mails. Letters were something that could be treasured forever.

Sure enough: “I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“I saved all your letters from camp.”

“Oh, did you?” Ororo began to rub Roderick’s shoulders carefully, red and full of scratches from her fingernails.

“Mmm-hmm. Tate snatched one up from me and started to read it out loud while everyone held me back. I beat his ass, though.” Roderick’s chest swelled up with obvious pride.

Ororo giggled, then felt her cheeks grow red. “It wasn’t the one…you know…”

“No, it wasn’t that one.” Roderick smiled. “No one saw that one. That one was in a very, very well-hidden place. I slept with it under my pillow every night.”

“You shouldn’t be fighting with your teammates, you know.”

“Yeah, well...Coach tied Tate and me up at the wrist and made us run five miles holding hands. Real riot, Coach is. He told me to give you this.” Roderick bent over and began to rummage under the bed.

“Nice buns,” Ororo teased, sliding her fingers across Roderick’s hard buttocks.

“Oh, quiet. You know I’m shy.” Roderick handed Ororo a small Polaroid. “Here.”

Ororo glanced at the picture and began to crack up. Roderick and his teammate, Bryson Tate, were dressed in huge baby bonnets, Pokemon shirts and shorts with elastic at the knees. A huge pacifier dangled from their necks. They were huffing around a corner, holding hands and sprinting like mad. “He had you dressed in pink socks!” Ororo shrieked, gasping for breath.

“Yeah. Then we had to kiss and make up. Not that I have homosexual tendencies,” he added quickly. “But Coach said he would push us all up to three-a-day practices and the team would’ve killed me…”

“I understand,” Ororo said, smiling.

Roderick stood up and tugged Ororo’s wrist. “Come downstairs with me so we can get something to eat.” Ororo laughed as she stood up, shaking money from her hair as she followed him down the carpeted steps into the kitchen. Surprisingly, it was Ororo who got the bright idea of stripping for her husband, and her flexibility and dancing skills had Roderick’s jaw on permanent stun mode. Now she sat in her husband’s lap, feeding him cheesecake and feeling happier than she had in a long time. Not only was her husband home, not only had he just signed a $30 million dollar contract to Reebok (and they were making love on top of the half-million bonus, which Roderick demanded in cash) but Adrienne was due back in a week. Ororo’s heart raced at the thought of seeing her stepdaugher. Once-a-week phone calls weren’t enough.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” Roderick asked, sipping on a Heineken.

“Oh, nothing much.” Ororo spooned Roderick another bite of cheesecake.

“Daniel told me that Jean was over here yesterday - what was that all about?”

Ororo gritted her teeth. Daniel was their doorman. “She was just here because she was going over the last minute list for the faculty barbeque. She wanted my opinion on a couple of things.”

“Hmm. Well, you know I don’t like them over here when I’m not here.”

“I know. It was unexpected, that’s all.”

“You really love teaching, don’t you?” Roderick asked, plucking money from Ororo’s g-string. “Being at that mutant school, with other mutants?”

“I…I’m happy here, being your wife…”

“That’s not what I asked you.” Roderick took the spoon from Ororo’s fingers and began to feed her. “I asked you do you love to teach?”

”I do,” Ororo confessed. “I love it so much. Molding young minds, it’s…it’s what I was put on earth to do, I think.”

“Well, this year is going to be pretty tough. We got a lot of away games on the schedule, and it really sucks, you know, but we don’t write the schedules. And I was thinking. maybe…you know…maybe you should go back, if it’s not too late to go back for the fall semester…”

“What?” Ororo’s jaw dropped as she stared at Roderick.

“I’m just saying, with the season starting so soon, and I’m going to be gone a lot…I don’t just want you sitting around the house if that’s not what make you happy…” Ororo sat up, stunned, as Roderick continued. “I think you have a gift - like I have a gift. God wants us to use our gifts. He gave me football. He gave you teaching. And I think you should teach again, because I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, Roderick!” Ororo threw her arms around her husband, smothering his face with kisses. “Thank you for understanding,” she crooned in his ear, nibbling it gently.

“Love you, Ororo. I do. And I swear, I’m gonna be good from now on. I’m going to be a good husband…”

“Roderick, you’re a wonderful husband…”

”I’m going to stop being such a jerk, and I’ll never, ever, ever touch you again in a bad way because you stuck by me, and I love you so much, Ororo…and we’re gonna go to that barbeque and we’re gonna have some fun, damn it. Starting right now.” Ororo squealed as Roderick scooped his wife into his arms and carried her up the stairs so they could make love on a bed full of one-hundred dollar bills.

*

“What…the…fuck is going on around here?” That’s the first thing that comes out of Jean’s mouth once she, Remy, Logan and I are alone again. “Has everyone taken leave of their senses? ‘Ro’s letting some guy stomp holes in her ass, Bobby’s sleeping with a married woman, Logan - you and Remy are running around pretending you’re going to kill someone -“

“Who said we’re pretendin’?” Logan asks.

“Oh, will you shut up with your tough-boy act?”

“Both of you shut up,” Remy says. “You’re upsettin’ my wife.”

”Remy,” I say, “Ah’m fine.” Then my baby kicks me and lets me know that I’m not fine. Then my head begins to spin and I have to sit down - next to Storm, of course.

“What does Ororo see in Bobby?” Jean wonders out loud.

“Well, let’s see. He wasn’t beatin’ her, I take it, so he probably had a one-up on Roderick,” Logan points out.

“No, I mean how did this even start?”

“Dey awfully slick,” Remy notes. “I mean, t’whole time, right under our noses. How did we not know - especially you, Wolverine?”

”You think I walk around sniffing people?” Logan rolls his eyes. “If it wasn’t my business, I stayed out of it. What did you say?” he suddenly asks, whipping around to face Jean.

Jean takes a breath, but doesn’t cower. “I said, you cold-hearted jackass. You’ve been cold-hearted since this whole thing began. Since we first found out about Storm and Roderick, that’s been your attitude. It’s not my business. It’s not my business. Now that she’s lying up somewhere damn near dead, you want to walk out of here like Big Bad Wolverine, ready to whup some ass. Well, you know what? If it wasn’t any of your business then, it’s not any of your business now, so drop dead!”

“You know, if you weren’t a woman, I’d belt you.”

”Then pretend I’m a man!”

“Shut up!” Remy yells over the bickering. “Didn’t I just tell both of you to shut up?”

“Rogue, tell your little husband that I only answer to one man, and his name is Scott Summers. And speaking of the love of my life, I’m going to see him. Out of my way, asshole.” Jean lifts Logan with her telekinesis and throws him across the room as she stalks out of Storm’s room and down the hall.

*

“Ah am…drunk.”

Jean and Ororo exploded into giggles at Rogue’s pronunciation. The three were huddled close at a small table underneath a gigantic weeping willow, trying to keep their drunkenness to themselves. Ororo was the most sober, having only sipped on a pair of wine coolers. Still, the alcohol had made her a bit giggly. Rogue was falling-down drunk, on the other hand, and Jean wasn’t too far behind her.

This was bad behavior for members of Xavier’s faculty. Ororo’s heart had raced, seeing her students again. She spent nearly an hour catching up on who was studying what, and who got accepted into where, and who was repeating what class and who tested out of other classed. Some of the older students had formed together and wanted to know: could she begin to teach college level botany? The thought of instructing something that was her passion had made her giddy with happiness, even if it did mean a little more work. But how could this extra class be work, if it was something she loved so much?

“Oh, Ororo. The results to your Pap smear and all that jazz should be back in a couple of days,” Jean spoke up. She was drinking a frozen margarita with the biggest smile on her face.

“Ro, somethin’ wrong with yer waterworks?” Rogue asked, then burped loudly.

“Oh, I do not know. I just know it burns when I pee.” Rogue began to laugh obnoxiously. “What?”

“Hey, Jean.”

“Yeah?”

“Storm said pee.” The women cracked up all over again.

“I did not,” Ororo said.

“Ya did too.”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“I would say anything as uncivilized as pee!”

“You just said it!” Jean crowed, and the unprofessional giggling began all over again. A few parents, admiring the school grounds, shot the women odd glances as they walked past.

“Afternoon, ladies,” a smooth, velvet voice called.

“Who said that!?” Rogue exploded, then dropped her head back on the table.

“Oh, God, it’s Storm’s husband - he has cooties!” Jean slurred, tackling her frozen drink.

“Hello, Red. Hello, Sugarbaker. Hello, my darling wife.” Roderick leaned to kiss his wife’s cheek, then sniffed suspiciously. “’Ro, are you a little tipsy?”

“No,” Ororo said, as earnestly as she could.

“Yes!” Jean and Rogue yelled. Rogue clutched her head at the sudden pain that shouting brought her.

“Rogue, what on earth is that?” Roderick asked, pointing to a bubbling brown concoction on the table.

“Well…ya heard of a root beer float, right?”

“Yes…?”

“Ah just took out th’ root. Want some?”

“Ooooh, no. No thanks, Rogue. You just drink that all by yourself and pray that you get your stomach pumped in time.”

“Big Rod Big Rod!” A group of male students grabbed Rod’s arm. “C’mon, it’s time to play! It’s for the champsionship this time!”

“Okay, okay! Jeannie, take care of my wife, will you? I don’t think Sugarbaker’s up to it.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Jean slurped the remainder of her margarita loudly. “We’ll be fine. I’m the desi…the deni…denigrated…I’m the not-drunk driver.”

“Oh, God. Stay here and don’t move until it’s time to go, then,” Roderick laughed and loped away.

Maybe I was wrong. Rogue sipped her drink as she watched Roderick, Logan, Scott, Bobby, Remy and Beast line up on opposite teams along with other junior X-Men. Maybe I’ve been wrong all this time. Or maybe they worked through it and everything’s going to be okay. That can happen. People can change. I’m glad I kept my mouth shut. Saved everybody a bunch of trouble. What the hell am I drinking? “Where ya goin, Stormy?” she asked as Ororo rose.

“I am going to my loft to lie down. Why don’t the two of you join me?” Ororo rubbed her forehead. “No way we will be able to contain ourselves from collapsing out here, and I think those parents went to speak to Charles about the inebriated teachers.”

“That sounds lak a damned good idea. Ah don’t plan t’be here when he comes over heah t’give a lecture. ‘Mrs. Summers, Mrs. Livingston, Mrs. LeBeau, this is a beacon of education. And while I certainly want you ladies to have a good time, you should carry yourselves as professionals at all times.’ Lak Ah’m not a professional.” With that, Rogue fell flat on her face. “Hey! When did this grass get heah?”

Ororo and Jean howled with laugher, drawing even more attention to themselves. “Is there any way to carry her up the stairs without a large neon sign saying, ‘Look at me, I’m drunk?’” Ororo asked.

“Yeah, the one that says, ‘the red-head is a telekinetic.’”

“Jean, it’s a barbeque for mutant students! I think your cover is blown!”

“Well to be honest, I’d drop her before we even reached the steps.”

Ororo smiled, summoning the forces of nature to carry the three women to her attic loft on a cushion of air.

Minutes later, Marie found herself in the midst of Ororo’s plush pillows and satin sheets. Jean was on the other side of Ororo, snoring very loudly to be such a small woman. “Jeannie!” Rogue leaned over and shook Jean until she bolted awake. “What, damn it!?”

“You snore!”

“So what? I’m trying to get some sleep.” Jean flopped back onto the pillows and closed her eyes.

Rogue lied back down, placing her hands under her head and staring at the ceiling. “Ro?”

“Yes?” Ororo murmured sleepily.

“How are thangs for ya…at home?”

A pause. “They’re much better, Rogue.”

“That’s good.” Rogue grinned and wrapped her arms around Ororo’s waist, burying her face in Storm’s hair. “That’s real good.”

“Rogue, are you hitting on me?” Ororo teased.

“Ah always thought ya had a great ass. Just don’t tell mah husband.”

“You are soooo drunk. I could have Jean take a picture of you right now in a very compromising position.”

”You’d be in th’ picture too, Stormy. An’ beside, yer hair smells so good.”

“Do not puke in my hair, Sugarbaker.”

“Mmm, what’s going on?” Jean rolled over, her emerald-colored eyes half-lidded. “I want to hold you, too!” Jean plopped her head on Ororo’s breasts and sighed happily. “Besides, I think you have a great rack.”

“Ass!” Rogue yelled on the other side of Ororo.

“Rack!”

“Ass!”

“Rack!”

“Ass!”

“Quiet, both of you!” Ororo laughed. “There’s plenty of Ororo to go around.”

“This is ‘Girls Gone Wild,’ X-Men style,” Jean pointed out. “I know plenty of men who would die to see this. And besides, I love you, Storm.”

“Ah love ya too, gal, an’ Ah missed ya like mad. Next time, don’t be a stranger.”

“I love you both. And if I were to ever be entangled in a sordid lesbian affair, I’d want it to be with the two of you.” The three women giggled as they drifted off to sleep.

Rolling thunder was what woke Rogue up. Awww…this sucks! Rain on a picnic day? Oh, Storm can fix this. Rogue rolled over, feeling an empty space where her best friend used to be. Rogue faintly heard the sound of retching coming from Ororo’s bathroom. Despite all, she smiled. I knew she was drunker than I thought, Rogue smirked as she kicked the covers off her bare legs and jogged to the bathroom. Downstairs, she heard the house alive with excessive screaming. She vaguely heard Cyclops screaming, “No football in the house! Roderick, don’ throw that!” Raucous screaming let Rogue know that Scott was being ignored…again. “Ey! Stormy! You okay?” Rogue knocked on the door lightly.

A harsh choking sound was Rogue’s answer. Rogue cracked the door open, and the smell of fresh vomit assaulted her nose. “Hey, Ororo? Ro?”

“I’m okay…” Ororo was mumbling. “I’m okay…just leave me alone…”

“Ororo, what’s wrong?” Rogue entered the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her to air the room out. Like all rooms belonging to Ororo, the bathroom was unusually large to accommodate her claustrophobia. Rogue rushed over to a vomiting Ororo and began to rub the small of Ororo’s back as Storm’s knuckles turned gray from gripping the toilet seat. “Ya drunk? Ya hung over?”

Ororo began to heave again, and Rogue turned her head at the splatter. She found herself staring at the door on Ororo’s floor. Why is that door still open? She specifically remembered falling flat on her face trying to close it, but now it was wide open.

Rogue grabbed a Kleenex and began to wipe the vomit from the rim of the toilet, as well as the floor. She paused, her eyebrows creased. Ororo’s vomit was spotted with red, but the drinks she had were kiwi mango…green. “Ororo?” Rogue repeated. She took Ororo’s face in her hands, and she flinched noticeably. Rogue brought her face within an inch of Ororo’s and looked closely. Just barely there…the reddening of her skin across her left cheek…“What happened?” Rogue demanded. “What did Ah miss?”

“Nothing! Leave me alone. Roderick is waiting for me - I have to go. Ororo flushed the toilet and struggled to stand.

“No! Hold on!” Rogue gritted her teeth and fought not to scream as Ororo shoved Rogue away. “Was Roderick in here when Ah was asleep?”

”If Roderick was here when you were asleep, wouldn’t you have waken up?” Ororo countered, leaning over to rinse her mouth out.

“Ah don’t know. If Ah was dead drunk, would Ah?”

“I need to use the restroom. Get out.” Ororo’s voice was curt as she lifted her blouse to unbuckle the belt on her skirt.

Rogue frowned. That’s not what she was wearing earlier…“Okay, fine, Ah know when Ah’m not - what in the fuck is that!?” Rogue grabbed Ororo’s arm and jerked her off the commode. Rogue grabbed Ororo’s shirt and jerked upward. A hideous red and purple mark stared back at her. “Oh, mah Gawd! When did this happen!?”

“A while ago - a long time ago - I need to use the restroom-”

“It did not! Yer husband’s only been back in town for two days! He did this while Ah was asleep - how did Ah sleep through this?” Rogue brushed a lock of hair from Ororo’s face, revealing a small bruise on her forehead. “Ah get it now. Ah get it now. He decides he doesn’t want to slap you in the face no more an’ show everyone what he does, so he beats ya where no one can see? An’ ya made the storm outside - and between that and the kids inside, no one could hear ya. Didn’t ya? Didn’t ya!?”

“Rogue, please! I need to use the restroom.” Ororo pushed Rogue’s shoulder, but she didn’t budge. “Okay, fine! You have some sexual fetish - first you’re all over me in my own bed, and now you want to watch me use a toilet? No wonder my husband doesn’t want me to see you.”

“Ya know what!? Ah’d kick yer ass fo’ that, but Ah don’t need too because Roderick’s gonna do it fer me!” Rogue yelled, but Ororo wasn’t listening. She was urinating during Rogue’s angry diatribe, and without warning gave a small shriek and clamped her legs shut. “Storm!

”Rogue, please. I really want you to leave me alone, just for a minute.” Tears dripped from Storm’s face onto her bare knees. “Please, Rogue. I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Just go away.”

“What’s going on in here?” Jean poked her head in the doorway. “What’s all the fussing about? I can’t even get any sleep.”

“You can always go to your bed,” Storm quipped.

“Roderick’s been…” Rogue began.

“Roderick’s been waiting on me all this time, and Rogue will not get out of this bathroom and let me be!” Ororo interrupted.

“Rogue!” Jean placed her hands on her hips. “Come on, now. Funny is funny, but this is pushing it, girl.”

“But - but -“ Rogue whirled to face Ororo, who’s eyes were white with warning. “Fine. Fine, whateva.” Rogue bent low to face Ororo. “Yer stomach’s bleedin’,” she hissed, storming out of the bathroom and slamming the doors off its hinges.

*

I’ve been watching Wolverine in this Danger Room for the past half-hour, going at full speed against linebackers in green jerseys who sport the number 81. Jean had it wrong. Logan did care - maybe even more than the rest of us. But Logan was from the old school, I knew. What went on between grown folks stayed between grown folks. Didn’t mean Storm couldn’t have asked for help. We all extended our hands to her - a million times, we offered our help. And Logan was the kind of man who was only going to be told to fuck off once.

I think he may have had a teensy crush on her, nothing special. I’ve watched them stay up and laugh for hours while Logan would sit off a drunk. I think she was the only person who could stand his drunken rambling. Sometimes they would sit under a tree, foreheads touching, going on and on about nothing at all. He’s the only man I know quiet enough to sneak up on Ororo and throw her in the pool or the lake every single time. I’m chuckling now, hearing Ororo scream, “No! No! Noooo!” as Logan would cart her into the nearest body of water. And they don’t know I know, but they’ve shared a few kisses when no one was looking. Not little fake ones, either, like the one in Antartica. Real kisses. I wonder if that’s what Logan’s thinking about now: the ever-present, always-too-late theory of if she was my girl…

“RRRRRWAAAAAAAHHHHH! You stupid sonabitch! You place your hand on a female? Come and fight a man!” None of this stuff is real, but I wish it were. I wish Wolverine were ripping Roderick’s face to shreds. He’d do it, too. Jean was wrong about that, too. Logan’s no pufferfish - what he says, he does. If he says he’s going to break Roderick Livingston’s legs, he will. He’s just here in this Danger Room to be civilized, not because anyone’s making him stay.

“Hey, Rogue.” I look up. Bobby’s standing next to me, his eyes bloodshot. He hasn’t slept since he’s come back to the Institute.

“Hey, Ice.”

“So…everybody hate me, huh?”

“No, Bobby. We just wanna know why? Why Storm, outta all the girls on earth?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain how it happened.” Bobby bites his lower lip before he speaks. “It’s all so cliché, you know? And how was I supposed to know it would come to all this?”

“Come to all what?” I ask, and I see Bobby’s eyes go dark, as if he’s ready to confess his soul.

That’s when we hear screaming. Remy rushes into the control room, where Bobby and I are sitting, checks to see if I’m wearing my collar, then plants a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek. “What’s gotten into you?” I ask, seeing the crazed grin on my husband’s face.

”We found him! We found him!” Remy glances at the control panel, hits a red button and begins to shout into the microphone. “Logan! Didja hear me! We found him!”

“Yer shittin!” Logan runs out of the Danger Room.

“Remy!” I grab his hands. “What are you about to do?”

“I’m about t’make some t’ings right, chere.” Remy kisses me again. “Just about t’make some t’ings right.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bobby declares, standing up and reaching for his jacket.

“Non, non, not you Bobby. You ain’t got de estomac fo’ dis.”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Bobby stands firm. “Whatever pain’s about to be inflicted upon this bastard, I’m going to have my part in it.”

”Bobby…”

“He killed my baby, Remy.” Bobby grabs Remy’s wrist and stares him dead in the eye. “The blood of my child is all over that bastard’s hands, and I want my revenge.”

“All…all…all right, then. All right. Dis changes shit. All right, den.”

“Remy! Ya cain’t jus’ kill a man, for God’s sake!”

“No one said anythin’ about killin’,” Logan’s actually smiling, having come into the control room now. “Just…just a reeeeal good ass-whuppin’ that ends with him not breathin’. That way, he won’t be able to touch Storm or any other woman ever again.”

“See? It’s like a community service!” Remy tosses in.

“We’ll be heroes!” Bobby chirps.

“You’ll be fugitives! Remy, Ah won’t let you do this!” I jump in front of the door. “Yer not thinkin’ right! But ya gotta let go an’ let God, Remy. Yer about ta cross t’line!”

“He ain’t my God,” Remy snarled. “Maybe yours, but he ain’t my God. My God doesn’t sit on his ass lettin’ an angel suck his dick while my best friend’s husband is rapin’ her!”

“Remy, please! Don’t say things lak that! My baby will be cursed!”

“Oh, fuck all that cursed shit!”

I’m about to say more, but then I find my ass back in the seat, and I hear footsteps. The last thing I hear is Bobby saying, “Sorry, Rogue, but this is personal.” And then he’s gone.

He…he just pushed me! My husband just pushed me!

*

“My head,” Jean moaned, sitting next to Rogue. “God, Rogue, who possessed us to drink like that? And in front of the students? I know they’re having a blast making fun of all of us.”

“Ah have no idea. Ah just wish Ah would die. Storm here yet?” Rogue asked, looking around.

“She’s running late. Said she was sick. You know Ro’s a lightweight - she’ll be under the weather for days.”

“Ah don’t think so, Jean…ya just said it. Storm’s a lightweight, an’ she knows it. She didn’t drink that much. Just a pair of wine coolers.”

“She puked all over herself. And I know, because Roderick came in while we were asleep and brought her some new clothes to change into.”

“Jean, she didn’t throw up cuz she was drunk, she…” Rogue paused.

“I’m sorry?” Jean looked up. “What’s wrong, Rogue?”

Rogue bit her lip. “Oh God, oh God…Jean, Ah promised Ah wouldn’t say anything, but she’s in so much trouble…”

“What’s up? Coffee?” Jean asked, pouring herself a steaming black cup.

“No. Look. I saw Storm way back in July. Roderick…Roderick’s been beating her, Jeannie.”

”What?” Jean laughed outright. “Rogue, you’re crazy!”

“No. Ah know what Ah’ve seen! Ro’s had a black eye, a bruised leg and God knows what else.”

“Storm got that black eye from the Danger Room, Rogue, you…”

“No, she didn’t!” Rogue slammed her fists on the table. “No, she did not! And she didn’t bump her leg on a desk or a table or anything else! And he hit her! He punched her in the stomach or kicked her or somethin’ and that’s why she was throwing up!”

“Rogue, calm down! I swear, sometimes you act every bit of twenty-two! Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes, Ah’m sure! I saw the bruise on her stomach mah damn self, an’ Ah wasn’t that drunk!”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. This is unreal. We can’t tell the guys.” Jean dropped her head in her arms. “We cannot tell the guys. They’d rip him limb for limb. We have to talk to Storm ourselves. She’s coming in for her lab results today, so I’ll talk to her.”

“Ah wanna talk t’her, too,” Rogue interrupted.

“You want to talk to who?” Ororo walked into the room from the back door. “Is something the matter?”

“One minute, Storm. Rogue. Out.”

“But Ah wanna stay Ya cain’t tell me what ta do - Ah’m a grown ass woman!” Rogue began to whine.

“Go,” Jean instructed the younger woman.

“What!? You suck!” Rogue yelled, walking away in a huff. “You both suck! Just a big pile of suckatude!”

Ororo was chuckling. “Hard to imagine she got married before I did.”

“Yeah, well…Ororo, I think you need to sit down.”

Ororo pulled out a chair and sat in it. “Is this about my Pap smear?”

“Yeah. I got the results back first thing this morning.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jean took a long swallow of her coffee before she spoke. “No, Ororo…no, everything is not all right.” Jean took both of Ororo’s hands into hers. “Ororo, I don’t know how to tell you this, sweetie…”

“Am I pregnant?”

“Oh, no. No, you’re not pregnant.” Jean squeezed Ororo’s hands. “Storm. Promise me you won’t have a baby with this asshole.” Ororo’s eyes widened at Jean’s sudden outburst. “I know I can’t make you leave him, but promise me - promise me, Storm! - that you will not have a baby with this guy…”

“Jean, what is it? What on earth is wrong?”

“Ro…” Jean wiped a tear from her eye before she spoke. “Ro, I’m so sorry but…you have chlamydia.”

Ororo said nothing. Her hands began to tremble. “I…” she whispered. “I…I haven’t…I’ve never…it’s just…”

“If it’s not you, then it has to be Roderick,” Jean interjected.

“No…you have to be mistaken.” Ororo began to wring her wedding ring around her finger. “Roderick would never…he wouldn’t touch another woman…Roderick loves me, Jean! He loves me!”

“Ororo, I’m sorry, but I know what I see.”

“I’ve never done anything…why would he even look at another woman…and how could he…with no protection? I’ve never done anything to deserve this, Jean!” Ororo broke into tears as Jean sat next to Ororo, wrapping her arms around her best friend.

“It’s not your fault,” Jean whispered, rocking Ororo while she sobbed uncontrollably. “It’s not your fault. I’m so sorry.”

Ororo was wailing, but Jean didn’t understand anything she said. Ororo’s mournful Arabic filled the air as jean felt her heart breaking. She knew Ororo loved Roderick with all her heart, and to get news of this was a crushing blow, indeed. “Oh, Goddess, how could he do this to me!? What do I do know, Jean? What do I do to save my marriage?”

“You don’t,” Jean found herself saying. “Because you don’t deserve a man bringing you some disease.” Jean kissed small bruise on Ororo’s forehead. “And you don’t deserve the way he puts his hands on you, do you?”

Ororo stiffened under Jean’s arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ororo, please.” Jean sighed. “Let’s not do this. Let’s not pretend, okay? Ororo, darling, you are in a dangerous situation and you need to get out. Let me see your tummy. Please, Storm,” she added when Ororo didn’t move. “Please, let me see what happened. Please?” When Ororo didn’t respond, Jean tentatively lifted Ororo’s blouse. She tried not to make a face at the bruise on Ororo’s stomach, black and blue now. “Oh, Storm. How on earth did this happen?”

“He…he got mad because I was drinking yesterday…”

“And he hit you?”

“No! He…he kicked me,” Storm confessed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, hell no. Storm, how could you let him do this to you?”

“It was a mistake! It was just a mistake. Roderick loves me…”

“And that gives him the right to do this to you!?”

“Oh, leave me alone!” Ororo stood up, jerking away from Jean. “Leave me alone! Don’t you dare look down on me and my marriage! You’ve always had somebody! Since you were sixteen, you’ve always had somebody and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you and your perfect husband and your perfect marriage and your perfect life! So Roderick and I have a few problems - but you know what? We’ll get through it!”

“A few problems?” Jean fired back. “Ororo, are you that hard up for dick that you’ll stick with the first thing that crawls out of the NFL?”

Ororo’s hand shot out and slapped Jean across her face. “You slap me? Slap your man. If you think you’re so tough!” Jean screamed, and backhanded Ororo. Ororo yelped, her already tender skin flaming. Jean’s eyes grew wide. “Storm - Ororo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to!” She was yelling at Ororo’s back as she ran out the back door.

Ororo was nearly to her car when she ran into Rogue, who was walking off her own anger. Ororo seized Rogue by her arm. “You opened your mouth, didn’t you?” Ororo asked, her voice low and deadly.

“What are ya-”

“You told Jean about Roderick and me.”

“Storm, Ah’m…Ah’m sorry, but Ah had to tell somebody.”

“You two-faced little white trash bitch. Don’t you ever speak to me again.”

Much later, when Rogue had time to recount the events, she would remember the look that Storm gave her when she passed; those blue eyes narrowed, ice-cold and full of hatred as she jumped into her car and sped away.

Never, ever, would Rogue forget that look, or the icy feeling that ran through her body for days as she wept at Ororo’s words.

*

The phone call came at nearly four a.m.

“Hello?”

”Jean, it’s Roderick.”

“Rod?” Jean sat up. “Roderick? What do you want? Storm’s not here. Why are you calling me?”

“I did a bad thing, Jean.”

”What?” Jean felt her heart began to pound. “Roderick, what’s wrong?”

“I did a bad thing…I need some help…I couldn’t let her leave me…please…”

”Scott!” Jean turned to shake her husband, but he wasn’t there. Downstairs doing night duty with Bobby. Damn it! “Roderick, what did you do?” Jean pleaded. “What did you do to Storm? Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

“SCOTT!” Jean was screaming now. “SCOTT!”

*

I’m tired of writing all this down. Chuck suggested it - told me it might be a good idea with my pregnancy in all. A way to keep me sane. But I’m really, really tired of it all. Recalling everything that happened doesn’t give me any piece of mind. If anything, it just makes me feel even worse. And it drives me a little crazy because sometimes I think this story will have no end, or have a really bad ending.

Maybe it’s because I don’t get it.

And maybe this is why my story is so empty - nothing short of a play-by play of what went on in our lives. Personally, I think I’m the wrong person to be telling this story. Maybe Charles or Jean or even Scott. They have empathy for other people. They’re compassionate. But me? I’m a bit more practical than that. And I. Just. Don’t. Get. It.

Is it wrong to be mad at her?

Why didn’t she just protect herself, for shit’s sakes? Dammit, Storm, you control the weather! Lightning! Tornadoes! Hailstones the size of my head! I’ve seen you do it! You couldn’t conjure up a damned raindrop to keep him away from you, even if you didn’t have the strength to walk away? I’ve seen Storm in action, and not just using her powers. After Wolverine and Betsy, Ororo’s tops in hand-to-hand. She’s done staff fighting with Gambit for years - for fun! I did it once and we nearly stopped seeing each other.

I know there’s a psychological explanation behind it all, but on the surface, it’s just dumb. It’s like skinny people who refuse to eat. After a minute, you just want to throw up your hands and say FUCK IT! I GIVE UP! If you drop dead because your dumb ass doesn’t want to eat, fine! I can see why Logan’s patience grew so thin. He felt like I felt. If your husband’s kicking your ass, you leave. If you don’t leave, you deserve to get your ass kicked some more. But no one - and I mean no motherfucking body - deserves what Storm got. That wasn’t an ass-beating. That was attempted murder.

And why stay with a man like that? For the money, the stability? What good is a fancy car if you can’t drive it anywhere? What good are expensive clothes of no one sees you wearing them? What good is a fabulous new house if no one is allowed to come and see it? And what could he possibly have been buying Storm that she didn’t get when she was a goddess? She gave that up to be an X-Man! It couldn’t have been money. And it couldn’t have been sex, because Storm started sleeping with Iceman. And we have yet to learn why. Another day, I suppose, but for now, Bobby’s keeping that between him and Charles. Can’t say I blame him.

My God, I didn’t know she was having his baby…

In the meantime, Ro’s still fading in and out of consciousness, the boys are off on some vigilante mission, and Adrienne cries herself to sleep every night because she can’t see either one of her mommies. (Where is her fucking mother, anyway?) Adrienne’s lying on my bed right now, curled up with a pillow that Storm used to sleep on. I tried to wash it because it’s getting awfully grimy and Adrienne spilled juice on it, and Adrienne actually bit me. So much for that idea.

I feel my little girl kicking, and I wonder, will she suffer Storm’s fate? No one raises their daughters to say, “If a man beats you, try to stay together and stick it out.” But isn’t that what happens, usually? What if Remy ever tried to hit me? He pushed to today, when I tried to stop him from leaving with Wolverine and Iceman. Does that count? Am I becoming tolerant? Is this how it starts?

I’m tired of expounding on all this. My thoughts are all jumbly and I’m making little sense. Even though it’s late, I’m about to go see Ro. I tell her about Adrienne mainly, and how things are going on in the house. I like to think that she hears me when I talk to her. I like to think that she’ll wake up and I’ll be the one by her bedside, holding her hand. I like to think that it’ll all be okay, and we’ll get our spunky weather goddess back.

And maybe, just maybe, when she wakes up she won’t hate me for breaking my promise and telling Jean about Roderick.