Halfway Across the Gap

Part Three

Ororo woke up at about five in the morning, as was her habit. She did a few quick meditation exercises before showering and heading to the kitchen for breakfast. Just as she had made some toast, however, Bobby hurried through the door and all but dragged her away; she just managed to snatch her food and bring it with her.

"You've gotta see this!" he exclaimed. "I mean, they've been at it for hours, but they don't seem to get tired. It's crazy."

He was leading her down to the Danger Room, she realized. Sighing inwardly, she prepared herself for some sort of elaborate prank or other kinds of troublemaking. She followed Bobby into the observation room, where Kitty, Piotr, and a tired Marie were already gathered. That was right, she recalled: Marie had been on night watch. She was about to tell her to go get some sleep when the scene in the Danger Room itself caught her eye.

Flitting all over the place like a bird was the visitor the Institute had had almost a year ago: Yukio, the young woman who'd asked after Logan. Ororo could make out the quick flash of a silver blade that she was using. She had a look of intense concentration on her face, even as she managed to make every move look effortless. She could've been floating instead of running. Ororo shook her head; they sure knew how to train fighters in Japan.

It was the man Yukio was fighting that made her breath catch, though.

Logan looked healthier than she'd seen in years, and seemed— well, not happy; she wasn't sure that he was capable of that— but somewhat content, at least. He was matching every strike of Yukio's with his claws, which were no longer flashing the silver she was familiar with. No, she realized— they appeared to be made of bone, now. They must've been what his original claws were like before the adamantium procedure. That provoked multiple questions: what had happened to him? Where had he gone through that? Was it voluntary?

Then her initial shock wore off, and her cool assessment of him was lost in the storm of emotions that followed. If the others felt a slight breeze from her, none of them mentioned it; they all seemed to be too engrossed in the fight below. Ororo, by contrast, was no longer paying attention to it, but instead fighting to keep in control. All of her rage, fear and sadness fought her grasp like snakes, but she still managed to force them down. She didn't need to create a mini-hurricane in the observation room.

Yukio landed on Logan's shoulders and kicked away, knocking him off of his feet. She grinned at him as she landed neatly on the other side of the room. "Is that all you have, Old Man?"

He was up in a flash, grinning back. "In your dreams, Runt."

Bobby chose this moment to interrupt. "All right, you two make a cute couple and all, but some of us need to use the Danger Room some time."

Both Logan and Yukio started. Logan glanced over at the observation room, his grin dimming when he got a good look at who was there. Ororo met his gaze unflinchingly, and was satisfied when he looked away first, choosing instead to focus on Bobby.

"Watch it, Iceman," he warned. "We're not a couple."

"He's not my type," Yukio said. "I don't understand the sideburns."

Logan mock-glared at her while Kitty, Marie and Bobby sniggered. Piotr chuckled quietly. Ororo couldn't seem to bring herself to crack a smile, though she liked Yukio.

"Welcome back, man," said Bobby.

Was it her imagination, or did Logan look contrite for a moment? "It's good to be back," he said gruffly.

Deciding that she wasn't needed there, Ororo departed for her office, munching on her toast. She had maybe an hour to catch up on paperwork before she needed to start teaching history. Her head was reeling from the fact that he was here, and she desperately needed a distraction.

She managed to bury herself in various tasks: taxes, bills, letters of complaint, requests from the government, pleas from parents who believed that their child or children were manifesting as mutants… it was endless. Still, it was work that Ororo had grown used to, and the monotonous quality of it all kept her mind safe from unwanted thoughts.

Fifteen minutes before her first class of the day, there was a knock on the door. She looked up, pulled unceremoniously out of her reverie. "Come in."

She stiffened as she recognized the head that poked its way inside. "Bad timing?"

"Not at all, Logan," she said, forcing a cordial tone. She smiled stiffly and added, "As headmistress, I think I speak for all of us when I say welcome back."

He pushed a hand through his hair— he'd cut it, she noticed. It looked a bit more… well, normal. "Jesus, I— look, Ororo, can I just be frank? We need to talk."

"I don't see what there is to talk about." She paused. "Unless you want to talk about the sudden destabilization of several large mutant slave rings in Europe. Then I'm all ears."

He gaped at her. "Of all the fucking— that's what you're mad about?"

No, it wasn't, she wanted to say. She was mad at him for leaving so suddenly, when she was sure that he had finally found a reason to stay. She was mad at him giving her hope that she was equipped to run both the Institution and the X-Men, and then ripping it all away with just a few words. She was furious at him for coming back and upending her life once again.

"Language, Logan," she chastised. She thought she saw him twitch. "What you've been doing is reckless, and seriously endangers your life and the life of Yukio—"

"She's my bodyguard," he said, and Ororo blinked in surprise. "She can take care of herself. And I don't think you really care about that."

"If you're the one who wants to be blunt, why don't you just come out and say it?" she asked. She was running out of patience.

"Fine!" he snarled. "We had sex. It ended badly. It was my fault, I get it. I shouldn't have said anything, because not a single goddamn word was true, Ororo. I fucked up big time, and it took me almost two years to get over the fact that Jean was dead and I was never going to see her again. I shouldn't have started a relationship of any kind. I'm not going to lie— it wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it did, and I lashed out because…"

He trailed off a bit, slumping where he stood. Ororo filled his last words. "It felt like betraying Jean."

At his surprised look, she laughed bitterly. "What, you think I didn't feel the same? I knew that Jean returned your feelings on some level. She was practically my sister, my best friend. We were confidants for years. So I felt that guilt too, because she was dead and how could I do that to her?"

He stared at her, as though the thought had never occurred to him. She realized it probably hadn't. "No offense, Ororo, but you look like you've aged ten years."

"I got lucky, then. I feel like I've aged twenty. I've already got white hair, the wrinkles can't be that far behind."

He scowled. "This isn't funny. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself with work?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "The school needs me. So do the other X-Men. I haven't managed to delude myself into thinking that I'm not needed. Speaking of which, I have class in ten minutes, and a lot of paperwork to take care of. Do you mind?"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "If I walk away from this now, you're going to avoid me for weeks." He placed both palms on her desk, leaning forward. Ororo sat up straighter, refusing to be intimidated by him. "First off, I'm here because I only want to ask one thing from you."

"And what's that?"

To her immense surprise, he dropped to his knees so that he was at eye level with her. In a tone that she had never heard him use before, with anyone, he answered, "Your forgiveness."

A million and one thoughts were whirling around in Ororo's head. She didn't think he'd ever looked so open and honest— at least, not with her. The closest he'd gotten to it was when he had come to her room, a few months after Alcatraz, and fallen into her arms like a man who just couldn't keep going. They'd both taken from the other with a raw, visceral need; neither of them hesitated. The two of them had been growing closer for quite some time, so she hadn't been all that surprised by his visit. What did surprise her was that he kept coming back, until the tension and guilt they both felt snapped and caused his departure.

She sighed. "Logan, I forgave you a long time ago, because you were right."

That pronouncement threw him off. "What?"

"It's the truth," she said. "What you told me the day you left— that I couldn't measure up to the Professor, that I couldn't fill in the absence of Scott or Jean, that I was an idiot to think that I would ever have it all under control— you were right. I can't become the Professor, or offer the same guidance he did. I can't replace Scott and Jean. This school isn't the same as it was, nor will it ever be. All that meant was that I had to make it better."

"You did," he insisted. "From what I've seen so far, the Professor would be proud. But you didn't deserve any of it. Which leads me to my second point: anything you need me to do, just point me in the right direction. Yukio plans on us staying for a while, as far as I know, so I might as well earn my keep."

She nodded. That sounded reasonable enough. Bobby was doing well with the Danger Room sessions, but Logan had always had a bit more creativity with such scenarios.

"I almost died in Japan," he admitted suddenly. "Crazy bitch named Viper suppressed my healing factor. It was a real wake-up call."

Ororo raised an eyebrow. "That maybe life was worth living after all?"

"Something like that," he admitted. "I kept seeing Jean. She… wanted me to go to her."

His eyes were pleading for answers. Softly she said, "You want to know if it really was Jean."

He nodded, swallowing.

"I don't believe it was," she said. "Jean would have wanted you to live your life and move on. More than likely it was just you. Some part of your subconscious did want to die and you fought back against it."

"Not sure if that's better or worse," Logan muttered, grimacing.

"You got past it," Ororo told him firmly. "That's what matters."

She was surprised by how much of a relief it was to have Logan back— to have someone there who understood. After Alcatraz, it had seemed as though they were the only two left. They had clung to each other like they were drowning, but refused to actually speak about their grief. It had ultimately led to each of them being even worse off. Even now, with the rift partway healed, Ororo still felt something gaping between them. However much he might regret his words from months ago, the fact remained that he had said them. He had known just where to aim to truly hurt her.

She wasn't about to make herself that vulnerable again.

"Logan," she began, "I'm glad we had this discussion, but I think it's best if we simply… keep our distances, for the moment."

Surprising her again, he didn't argue her point. Instead he nodded. "Whatever you say. Later, Professor Munroe."

His exit was as abrupt as his entrance.

Logan returned to his room that night to find Yukio curled up on his bed like a cat. He almost considered taking over her room the same way she'd taken over his, but instead she stretched and sat up when he walked in. Her eyes were questioning him.

"How long are we staying?" she asked.

"Indefinitely."

"I am glad," Yukio said. "As I have already said, I quite like it here."

"You won't if you keep stealing my bed," he growled.

"I'm going, I'm going," she sighed, waving him off as she headed for the door. She paused in the act of reaching for the knob. "You know, I think you are no longer a Ronin."

He regarded her. "You think?"

"Yes." She nodded her head in satisfaction. "Here, I think you are a bit more like a proper samurai."

Strange, he later reflected, how much those words warmed him.

A/N: There'll be a sequel eventually. Probably. You can check my profile if you want details on what I'm doing with this. Until then... back to Ponds Don't Run.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.