Ororo cradled a warm cup of tea in her lap. The night wind was cool, but not so cold that she needed to wear a sweater. It was here that she found peace and solitude- on her private balcony. Away from the concerns of the X-Men and the heavy loss of her close friend and mentor, Charles Xavier.

There had been nights of endless tears and little sleep. She missed his aura, his occasional laughter, his warmth and compassion. The halls and rooms of the mansion seemed smaller without his presence. Ororo wondered how well she was coping compared to the others. Jean appeared to be adjusting to her added powers. Henry McCoy, when not on a mission, disappeared into his lab for long hours of study. Logan ran mission after mission in the Danger Room and his anger seemed more chilled than hot. It was almost as if he were waiting for someone or something to melt him down. Sam Guthrie practiced with Logan in the Danger Room and tried to become involved in some way with the others. His new role as leader of the X-Men became his first priority, but they hadn't been fully tested... yet. And Scott was still recovering from their skirmish with a mutant, properly named Payne.

The other X-Men had split from the group and were now residing with Warren in one of his privately owned mansions. She sent the blessings of the goddess to them. She held no contempt for their actions, and in a way she understood.

Often, she prayed for a reunion of Xavier's children. What would he think of them now? If by a miracle he returned, would he be able to heal the wounds? Or was the infection already too deep?

Ororo hadn't escaped to her balcony just for the solitude, but she was waiting for him. His last instructions were to meet him on this particular night. For once, she was glad for a day without a mission. So she waited...

***Harry's Hideaway***

An almost perfect ring of smoke floated away and dissolved into the air. He was almost tempted to make another one, but the spell shattered. The multitudes of bad memories and excruciating pain rarely allowed him moments of peace. And those times were scarce and scattered. Only good memories kept him on the small ledge of humanity. It was a dangerous balance and most of the time he fell to a hard brutal landing.

Yet, he was still alive and in better control for the past several years. And the man who helped him balance his primal tendency was now dead and buried.

Logan inhaled on his cigar deeply. No more Chuck. No more ol' baldie. No more sitting on the sofa and picking at his brain. The latter part he definitely didn't miss. Why stir an already boiling pot of crap? Still, Xavier had given him more moments of humanity and peace then he'd experienced in years. And Logan was infinitely grateful for that precious gift.

His throat grabbed and tightened. He flooded the unexpected feeling away with several large swallows of cold beer. His throat loosened, but the pain lingered deeper. It wasn't going to go away; no matter how much he drank tonight. Why the hell did he drag his ass to Harry's anyway? Nothing would ever be the same without Xavier, for the X-Men, mutants, and humans in general. Xavier was likely the world's last hope for unity or some semblance of unity. He was irreplaceable, in world filled with replaceable people.

Several beers later, a familiar scent walked into the bar. Logan half smiled. He had to show up sooner, rather than later.

The young man sat down on the barstool next to him. "Hey." He didn't even glance over.

Logan exhaled the bittersweet smoke and replied dryly. "Kid."

"What kinda beer do ya recommend?" The youth asked.

Logan grinned inwardly. The kid wouldn't know a good beer from his own ass. He recently started into his early twenties and Logan had only seen him sloshed once. And he had been there to see the whole thing. At first it was fun, then it turned ugly. It was a night best left unremembered.

The barkeep eventually made his way down to them. Logan made a small gesture with the cigar in his hand. "Two Samuel Adams on tap."

The balding stocky man gave Sam Guthrie a keen eye, but didn't speak a word. Logan guessed that Sam was looking more his age lately. With his recent new status as leader of the X-Men, his face expressed more maturity and worry. That will make anyone appear older, Logan thought.

Two beers slid across the wood grain top. Logan chugged his until it was halfway full. And Sam swallowed in smaller quantities, but once he got past the taste he gulped more of it down.

"So, what's up kid?"

Sam shrugged uneasily. "Nuthin."

"You just came to slug down a few beers with the ol' man, eh?"

"Well, sorta... Logan, are ya bothered by the idea?"

Wolverine frowned. "Of what?"

"Of me leading the X-Men. I mean, I know its temporary until Scott's back in the saddle, but I'm a little concerned if somethin' major happens."

"When isn't something major going down with the X-Men?" Logan replied more sharply than he expected. "Look kid, we wouldn't have picked you unless we deemed you worthy. We've been there, and done that. You should trust our judgement."

"Ah realize that...it's just-"

Wolverine slammed down his fist. The force behind it knocked both beer mugs a few inches from their original place. He pointed a thick hairy finger at the boy. "Don't you be losin' your balls on us. If the others pick up on it during a crisis, it'll definitely hurt the team. You've got a lot of experience under your skinny belt. Don't let your fears take that away."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Yes, sir." Within moments he finished his beer and appeared to be more at ease with himself. Then a sudden thought made his jaw tighten and his eyes glaze over.

"I'll never forget that day." Cannonball said.

Logan peered at him quizzically.

"The open hand or the closed fist? That's the choice I gave him when X-Force decided to leave the mansion.* He was pretty mad at me, but in the end he understood. He was always like that..."

(* See X-Force #19--Gwyna)

"Kid, you ain't the only one feeling his loss. I keep hearin' his voice inside my head." Logan tapped on the side of his temple. "He'll always be there, but it's up to us to carry on. You stood up to him and he always respected that. He told me so."

"Honest?"

"Yep." Logan replied and knocked off the rest of his brew. "Let's go ki-, err...Guthrie. The smoke's gettin' too thick and I'm done drinkin."

Cannonball and Wolverine walked out of Harry's. The elder mutant halted before his motorcycle and then glanced back at the double doors of the bar. A gradual wicked grin grew on his face.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely friggin' nothing." He said as his smile widened. It had to be the first time in years he'd walked out of a bar without having to pulverize some creeps or get thrown down himself. It felt good, real good.

"Hey Logan!" Sam called out. "Wanna race back to the mansion?"

"Why not?" He turned on his hog and revved the engine. "I'll even give ya a head start."

And waited...

She stared into the dark liquid and the ripples caused by her trembling hands. Her decision not to tell the others bothered her deeply, but she had sworn an oath to him. He had a power over her like she had never experienced before. And it was frightening to her, yet at the same time, alluring.

A sudden change in the ripples and a shift in the wind caused Ororo to look up from her tea. At last he had arrived. Her heart quickened in response and she stood up to greet him. He stepped towards her and held out his hands in a welcoming gesture.

"May the goddess shine upon you, Ororo Monroe," he said in a soothing baritone voice.

"You're most gracious, as always." Storm replied. She watched him and carefully noticed the moonlight shattering off his metal armor. His well-formed muscles were almost entirely encased in the metal material. The light glowed behind him, causing his features to be hidden in shadow.

His body shifted stiffly. "Have you kept your promise?"

"Yes, of course." She said and moved closer to him. This was the third night they had spoken to each other. On the first visit she had almost injured him with a small bolt of lightning, thinking that he was an intruder. But once he spoke of his concern for the X-Men and Xavier, she let him speak. He explained to her that he was an old friend, but couldn't reveal himself until the proper time.

To Storm he seemed to be a gentle and caring soul. And gradually she opened up to him. After their previous conversations he had learned of recent events. Including the separation of the X-Men as a team and the death of Charles Xavier. The later news silenced him and soon after he disappeared from her balcony, but he promised to return with more answers of his identity and the reasons behind his concern.

"Will you keep your word as well?" Ororo said boldly, which brought her out of her reverie.

He bowed gracefully using his thick legs. "As you wish, creator of Storms."

The moonlight that had once reflected his armor now shimmered with distortion. Then his body warped into twists and convulsions. His size began to diminish and his dimensions changed to a shapelier figure. A more feminine aura emanated from where he had once stood.

The teacup slipped from Ororo's fingers and broke into several pieces, which scattered across the floor. The young woman bent down and picked up one of the shards. She stared down at it intently. "Since you told me of his death, this is how I feel." In a slow motion she slipped out of the shadow and into the light. The black feathers crowning her head displayed colors of deep blues and purples. Her face was exotic and demure at the same moment. She smiled sadly at Ororo. "It's good to see you, old friend."

"Lilandra." Storm whispered in a startled breath. "I-I'm honored."

"Please don't speak of honor. I apologize for the ruse, but in order to leave Chandilar I had to take on another form. As you know, being discreet is of the utmost importance when you're a Majestrix, as people are always trying to find ways to assassinate you."

Ororo nodded in understanding and then something else occurred to her. "What made you come to earth in the first place?"

The Majestrix paused in confusion. "You may not believe this... but my sister contacted me. She told me the cause of his death and-

"You didn't believe her." Ororo finished.

Lilandra's hands tightened at her sides. Betrayal wound its way into her dark eyes. "I had to find out for myself. Charles once said that time changes all things, including people like my sister. Now I know it's true."

"Why didn't you contact the X-Men directly?"

"I had to be absolutely sure this wasn't a trap set by Deathbird to lure me to earth." Lilandra sighed. "I was afraid she may have manipulated the X-Men somehow. She proved me wrong and I'm grateful for her good intentions."

"Why me?" Storm asked. She just couldn't reason why Lilandra chose her above the others. Why not Beast or Jean? She considered them to be the most loyal X-Men.

The enchanted alien woman touched Ororo's arm briefly. "Because I need your help, and what I'm about to tell you cannot be spoken to anyone." Lilandra then turned and walked past her. She leaned over the marble railings as if her legs had been weakened with age. Her voice was barely a ragged whisper. "I loved him Ororo. Even the distance of time and space between us never took away the strength of our love. The only thing that stopped our commitment to each other was our duties. Yes, we were tempted in our selfishness to cast aside the needs of our own people, yet we chose not to."

"I understand." Ororo said.

"Yes, I knew you would. That's why I've chosen you for this-well, as Charles put it...a leap of faith." Lilandra turned and placed her hands on each side of Storm's shoulders. "There may be a way to bring him back."

Ororo felt herself stiffen within Lilandra's touch. "What?"