Chapter One: All Fall Down

I’m in a state of confusion
I hope things aren’t what they seem
If this is really happening
Just let me go back to dream
You’re home
Tell me I was dreaming
Tell me that you didn’t say goodbye
~Travis Tritt


For the rest of her life, she would remember that day. The details of it were burned into her brain, succeeding in a steady, clear recollection of everything that happened.

She burned the chicken. Having spent various amounts of time in the bathroom that afternoon, praying to the porcelain gods, she let her attention on dinner waver. Her boys made unholy amounts of noise from the back yard, the sound of childish arguments drifting into the sunny kitchen.

Through the small, curtained window leading to that lawn, she could see those two young boys rolling in the mid-autumn leaves. They laughed, their beloved Beagle puppy barking and diving into the piles with youthful exuberance. The three musketeers, that’s what their father called them.

“Shit.� She swore as the smoke detector screeched.

Taking the burned chicken from the stove, Ororo Summers dumped the blackened food from the pan. A flick of a switch churned the garbage disposal, taking the ruined meal down the drain. She placed a hand to her dark forehead, trying to calculate how long it would take for her husband to return home. If she started right now, she could whip up an Alfredo sauce and some angel hair pasta. That might appease her picky sons.

She used a towel to air out the space in front of the detector, ceasing the irritating chirp that might alert her children. Once the mess was cleaned and the room aired out, Ororo checked on her boys again. Assured that they were out of trouble, she immediately set to work.

With determination borne of a dedicated mother, she gathered ingredients and pots from her cupboards, tossing everything together. She had a flair for cooking, much to her husband’s dismay. His slender build packed on ten pounds over the years, even with an intensive exercise program. He once joked to his best friend that the happier he was, the more weight he put on.

Smiling at the thought of her husband, Ororo washed her hands in the sink quickly, letting the heavy fragrance of her beloved cream sauce hang on the air. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly, a reminder of the surprise she and Scott discovered just three weeks ago.

They hoped for a girl this round, but both could be content with a healthy child. Thinking of health, Ororo dove back into the refrigerator for makings of a salad, knowing full well what a battle that would be with her seven and four year old sons. Still, if she promised them ice cream sundaes for dessert, they would dutifully eat every bite in hopes of that sweet treat.

The news came on; local Chicago anchors greeting her brightly from the tiny television set Scott bought her last year for Christmas. Because she spent so much time in her kitchen, whether moonlighting as a caterer with her former boss or creating something for her own family, he decided she need not miss a moment of her favorite news programs.

Humming a little while chopping carrots with the ease of a chef, Ororo scarcely heard the top story. But something, she might never know what, filled her belly with a hard lump of fear. She turned to the small screen, eyes intent when she read the ticker revealing the headline.

“We go to our reporter in the field, Kim Vatis.�

Setting the knife down, Ororo let one hand fall to her gently rounded abdomen, as though to draw strength or comfort from her unborn child.

“Thank you, Zoraida.� Kim’s compassionate face filled the screen, wreckage of a recent car accident framed behind her. “We’re here on the inbound 355 just before the Ogden exit, where we’re told at least one fatality was pronounced here on the scene just moments ago.�

“Oh, God.� Ororo’s hands flew to her face when the footage changed. Clips of a decimated white Dodge Ram filled her with a fear she might never explain. “Oh, God. Scott. No.�

Beyond that awful pile of twisted metal laid a body, covered with a dark blue medical examiner’s blanket. She did not need to see his face nor the blurred license plate to know the truth. Looking to the clock confirmed her fears. Scott always called before the news started, no matter what happened to be going on. She turned to stare at the phone, willing it to ring so they might discuss the car accident as they always did, laugh at how she was turning into a worrywart.

She yearned to hear his voice, even when her heart knew the truth. Ororo still heard her children playing in the yard, the plop of water boiling on the stove, but her life was torn upside down.

~**~

Someone came to tell her that Scott was dead. But that couldn’t be. He was still young, still healthy. They were expecting another baby. She was making his favorite pasta for dinner. Why? Oh, she’d burned the chicken.

The solemn faced Sheriff stood in her living room to explain what happened. She sent her children to the neighbors’ home, where their freshman college daughter could take care of her angels. She sent the checkbook so the children could order pizza while the Sheriff told her how her husband died.

It was an accident. A semi-truck driver, pulling in from a long double-shift fell asleep at the wheel. He tried to brake, but not before slamming Scott’s brand new truck into the guardrail. The driver was in critical condition. Scott died on the scene.

How could it be? For years she and Scott threw themselves into danger in the name of mutant rights. But they left that life behind to start their family, to grow old together. Scott couldn’t be dead. It was a mistake, please let it be a mistake.

Is there anyone you’d like us to call?

Who? She and Scott were all they had. Sure, their friends and family still lived in Westchester, but the only one she ever called for help was Scott. His best friend…but they had no idea where he was. He’d gone on a mission, Ororo recalled clearly. He’d gone off to do what he had to do while Scott died on that busy freeway.

The deputy talked of details she couldn’t comprehend. Of arrangements. Of counseling. They were so sorry for her loss.

At last, when they were gone, she was left alone in her pretty little house. This house they bought with wedding money saved for two years. Charles helped them with the down payment, but Ororo and Scott did everything else. They painted every room, refinished the floors, and bolted down cabinets.

They’d fought over the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Ororo won. Scott still hated them. This house is where they brought Chris home from the hospital when labor pains began, comically, on Labor Day. They gave him a tour at just two days old, Ororo giggling when Scott promised to build that swing set.

She’d sewn the drapes in the sitting room herself, while heavily pregnant with little Evan. Chris got the sticky orange flavoring of Cheetoes all over them. Ororo thought she’d cry forever, letting the hormones get the better of her.

Her trip down memory lane had somehow taken her to the neighbors’ house. What was the girl’s name? She’d known her for seven years, but at the moment her name escaped.

Lydia. Right. Little Lydia who Evan loved to distraction and swore he’d marry someday. She was in college now, studying to be a teacher. Ororo knocked upon the door, still lost in a tide of disjointed thoughts and unsteady memories.

“Mrs. Summers,� Lydia said upon answering the door. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Summers.�

Her face was red and blotchy, as though she’d been holding back the urge to cry. The girl had not broken down in front of Ororo’s innocent boys and for that, she felt a warm surge of gratitude for the younger woman.

“I need the boys,� Ororo replied with a hoarse voice. Stay strong, she told herself, have to think of the children. All of them.

“Want me to come stay the night?� Lydia questioned, her gaze flickering to the young life still nestled inside Ororo’s belly. “I can give you a hand. I don’t have classes tomorrow.�

“I just need my boys.� Ororo insisted. As though the girl knew she hung on by a thread, she turned to gather up the Summers boys.

Heedless to their whining that they wanted to stay with Lydia, Ororo led them both across the side lawn and into the house. Chris fell quiet, as though he knew something terrible had happened. She did not look at them until Evan closed the front door.

Her boys. The light of her life. Christopher with his serious blue eyes, light caramel skin and the distinct chin of his father. Evan with his mother’s coloring, his father’s eyes, and a sunny disposition that nothing could dampen.

Scott adored them. He told her, so often, that he once thought living as a mutant rights champion was his calling. Instead, he found as the years went by, he loved nothing more than to roll around in the back yard with his kids. That, Ororo always thought, meant the world to her.

Forcing herself to concentrate, Ororo stared at her boys, memorizing them before she stole their innocence away.

“Where’s Daddy?� Evan asked, peeking through the room. “Is he hiding? Did he bring us presents?�

But Chris stared directly at his mother. He knows, she thought sadly, Goddess help me. Ororo swallowed thickly as Evan continued to search for his father.

“Where’s Daddy?� He questioned again, a slightly hysterical pitch to his four-year-old voice. “I want Daddy.�

“I do, too,� Ororo whispered.

Both boys crowded closer as she sat. She took a hand from each of them in hers, praying to anyone that might answer for guidance.

“Boys, there was an accident,� was all she could say without bursting into tears.

“Is Daddy at the hop-it-all?� Evan questioned curiously. “Can we go see him?�

Chris had already begun to cry. “Mommy?�

Ororo drew in whatever strength she had left. “No, honey. Daddy’s not at the hospital. Daddy…Daddy had to go to heaven.�

Both hands squeezed hers, the tiny fingers digging into her palms. “I want Daddy.� Evan demanded.

“I’m so sorry,� Ororo cut in, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Baby, Daddy isn’t coming home.�

“Yes he is!� Chris shouted, startling both his mother and bother. “He’s coming home! He told me we were going to see the Bears play on Sunday! He’s coming home!�

“No, baby, he’s not.�

“Liar!� Chris screamed, tears running down his cherubic cheeks. “No! Mommy! Don’t say Daddy’s gone!�

Ororo leaned up, capturing each boy into the crook of her arm. The fight left Chris almost immediately and he burrowed into the safety net of his mother’s embrace. Evan cried with them, even when the thunder crashed and rain pelted the windows of their pretty little house.

~**~

They buried Scott on a bright, but chilled Sunday afternoon. An old friend gave the service, the blue-furred priest Kurt Wagner. The X-Men had all come from Westchester, filling her pretty house with memories and sorrow.

Charles Xavier, the wheelchair-bound benefactor, spoke of his sorrow, eulogizing Scott in a poetic and beautiful way. He spoke of Scott’s accomplishments, conceding they were nothing compared to the joy he found in his family.

Ororo stayed strong, leaning heavily on her friend Rogue during the memorial ceremony. Her heart broke when Chris walked first to his father’s coffin, touching the polished mahogany with his tiny hand.

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m the man of the house. I’ll take care of Evan and Mommy and the baby. We’ll be ok.� He kissed the coffin then, even as his mother fought with tears. “I love you, Daddy.�

Evan, his little face wet with tears, followed his brother, kissing the white rose in his hands before laying it on the coffin. “Bears won,� he whispered. “Hester ran in two.�

Her sons held hands, gripping one another for support while their mother came forward to speak to their father. She laid her hands on the cold, shiny wood, eyes darting over the beautiful spray of autumn flowers decorating his casket.

“I miss you,� she whispered simply. “I love you. Goodbye, sweetheart.�

Rogue came forward in a flash, taking Ororo’s arm as they both closed their eyes in prayer, kissed their roses and laid them on the casket.

After the service, close friends came back to the Summers’ home. Ororo changed out of her funeral attire, allowing her boys the same comfort. They darted into the backyard, to the play set their father built. Ororo could see their hearts were not in play, but they needed to get away from the stifling sadness.

She curled up on the cushioned window seat, a blanket covering her legs and pillow pressed against her belly. They would insist she eat soon, every mind wondering how the baby she was carrying might fare when his or her mother seemed so lost. Ororo stared out the window, trying to ignore the dull murmur of voices all around her, each discussing Scott’s prematurely ended life.

Charles came to her, his benevolent smile slightly sad. Ororo offered him a forced smile, which did not seem to deter him.

“How are you holding up?�

She shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. It doesn’t seem real.�

“I understand.� Charles reached for her hand. “I have never met a woman so strong as you, my dear Storm.�

At the sound of her abandoned codename, Ororo closed her eyes. She could see her husband there, dressed in his X-Men uniform. Though he wore the ruby-quartz glasses until his death, she remembered clearly the design of his visor and smiled at the image. They missed that life, from time to time, though every day as parents proved adventurous.

“Have you heard from him?� She questioned to halt the memories. “I noticed he isn’t here.�

Charles’ gaze saddened further. “No. I cannot reach him at the moment, though I tried.�

“He doesn’t know.�

“I am afraid not.�

Ororo turned her gaze back to the front lawn, her mind’s eye placing Scott out there, mowing the lawn as he did every Sunday until the first snow.

“He’ll come here first,� she replied quietly. “He always does.�


~**~

He knew something was amiss the moment the motorcycle’s engine cut off. Glancing about at the quiet, peaceful home he knew well, Logan immediately felt the foreboding chill of impending doom. He remained on the seat, legs propping the heavy Harley Davidson to prevent a fall.

The quaint little house looked as he remembered it nearly six months ago. The waist-high fence to keep Buster inside needed a new coat of paint, but then, it always did. There were two child-size bikes hanging from hooks beneath the carport, though Logan usually found them dumped on the lawn. The garage door was closed, which in itself was odd. They left it open during the day, so neighbors could borrow tools and the boys had access to their scooters, skateboards, and bikes.

He noted that the drapes were closed tightly, another oddity. She liked the light, he remembered. Every morning at dawn, she threw those drapes open to allow the sun to shine inside, waking the men of the house with irritating groans.

Green grass was in desperate need of a cut. Logan frowned. He never let the grass go uncut, fearful that the boys might trip on a hidden sinkhole or rock. The soft blue minivan was nowhere in sight, but that could mean she was running errands. On a Saturday. At five in the afternoon.

Perhaps the boys had soccer or hockey or something.

Deciding to try his luck at the door, Logan pulled out the kickstand with one foot and slid easily from the bike seat. He stretched his arms above his head, succeeding in cracking every vertebra from neck to tailbone. It had been a long drive and the comforts of his friend’s home seemed somehow cold.

He sniffed the air, an instinctive habit he couldn’t quite shake. For some reason, he scented the boys and their mother as strongly as ever. His friend’s signature aroma, however, was conspicuously missing. This might have nothing to do with anything. Perhaps he went back to New York for a few weeks. If Xavier needed him, very little could keep that boy strapped down.

Deciding to find out what was happening, Logan marched up the walk careful to avoid disturbing her pretty flowerbeds lining it. Lord help him if he stepped in her marigolds or whatever the hell they were.

Just as he reached the steps, he heard a soft footfall. The handle jiggled before the inner door opened, revealing a familiar face.

“Ororo,� he grinned, yanking the screen open. “What’s goin’ on, gorgeous?�

Almost before the words left his lips, he knew something terrible had happened. Those bright sapphire-hued eyes were dull, rimmed with red. Her cheeks bore tearstains and that cap of snow-white tresses hung limply at her shoulders.

Shocked at her haggard appearance, he stepped back, allowing her to open the front door further. He noted the sagging sweat pants and plain white t-shirt, startled that he dressed so casually in the middle of the day. Ororo Summers was not a woman that let herself go.

One of her delicate hands rested on the door handle, the other on her swelling belly. Logan tried to smile.

“He go an’ knock you up again?� He attempted to joke. “You two ever sleep?�

She did not bother to crack a smile. Her arms wove over her distended middle as though to protect herself from him. Having known this woman for twenty years, Logan felt ice slip through his veins. He could not hear – even with his enhanced senses – the sound of her sons playing anywhere in the house. Ororo’s boys were always on the move, usually tearing up the front or back lawn with wild games that consisted of boyish fantasy and dopey giggles.

“Logan.� Even her voice sounded wan, thin. “You haven’t heard.�

At this statement, Logan braced himself. “What the hell happened?�

She looked away, her eyes welling with tears. Logan reached forward, grasping the hand of his best friend’s wife.

“Its Scott,� she whispered. “Scott’s dead.�

~**~

Their house had not changed in décor or size. Logan still found it huge and empty. Whenever he arrived in suburban Chicago to see his friend, there was a cheerful greeting. Perhaps Cyke would sneak in a quick and manly hug. They would laugh, Scott would offer him a beer, and they’d vanish into the garage for a while.

If they boys were awake, they came running down the stairs or inside from the yard, laughing hysterically and begging for attention. He always brought his honorary nephews gifts, usually tucked away somewhere in his jacket. They might beg and plead for their presents, showing him those dorky little toothless smiles.

He might be considered the most dangerous man on the planet, but Chris and Evan turned his insides into water.

Following Ororo into the kitchen, he noted that her grief had not let the housework slide. In fact, everything seemed twice as spotless as he remembered it being. He sized Ororo up, wondering if she dealt with this loss by throwing herself into the life she and Scott built.

“The boys are with Lydia,� she explained without him asking. “They’ll be happy to see you.�

She set about making coffee, gesturing for Logan to sit at the breakfast bar. After shrugging out of his battered leather jacket – which he remembered with a pang of grief that Scott bought him ten years ago – he took a seat to watch her. The barstool was comfortable, much like the rest of the Summers’ home. Everything chosen for comfort and simplicity.

Logan used to tell Scott that the suburban life seemed boring, but his friend thrived in it. Becoming a husband didn’t change him much until the move. Fatherhood sat on Scott well, bringing out the inner child in a once deadly serious man. Whenever Logan made the trip to Chicago, he found Scott so drenched in happiness Logan could almost smell it.

Fighting back memories of his friend hoisting the boys over his shoulders or enlisting Logan to help finish the basement, he concentrated on the young widow.

Ororo looked like she’d been to hell and back. Her shoulders drooped and her expanding waistline did not give her skin that rosy flush he had seen through the other pregnancies. She turned to him, handing a cup of coffee across the bar without so much as an attempted smile.

“Its decaf,� she explained, indicating to the baby. “Its all we have.�

“When did it happen?� He asked, taking the cup and setting it on the granite countertops. He had helped Scott install those five years ago.

He couldn’t really be gone.

“About a month,� she replied quietly. The guilt melded with grief in his heart. “Charles couldn’t find you.�

“I was in Australia,� he explained through the pain. “I’m sorry.�

At this, she did crack a smile, though the gesture was wan. “Wow. I believe that is the first time I’ve ever heard you say those words.�

Appreciating the dig and the inside joke, Logan nodded.

“A car accident,� she continued as though the words were tired and worn. “Coming home from work. He had to stop to pick up my prenatal vitamins.�

Stunned by the cruel turn of fate, Logan stared at his coffee cup.

“Where’s he buried?�

“Resurrection Cemetery,� Ororo replied. “Kurt did the ceremony and Charles the eulogy.�

Logan nodded. That was the best plan. He should have been here to say goodbye, to see his friend buried. Did he still have things to say to the man that once saved his life, forging a friendship even infidelity could not shatter? Of course he did. Everything he left for “someday� should have been said when he had the chance.

Deciding to chance the subject before he lost his cool, Logan looked back up at the woman who completed Scott’s life. “When’s the baby due?�

“January.� Ororo answered, touching her belly. “I suspect you’ll be on another mission by then.�

Slightly offended, Logan glared at her. “Did I miss the other two?�

“You were here for Scott,� Ororo explained gently, as though he were one of her sons. “There’s little reason to be here now.�

“They’re my godsons,� he insisted. “I should be here.�

Ororo closed herself off, reminding Logan of the ice queen he’d thought her before she married Scott. He drew himself up as she did, squaring off to fight yet again. They were ever at odds, usually placing Scott right between them. She often called Logan unreliable and dangerous, though she did give in to Cyke’s request that Logan be their children’s godfather.

“You should stay long enough to say goodbye to your friend,� Ororo told him coldly, setting her cup on the counter. “But we’re fine. I can take care of my children.�

“Yeah?� Logan asked, meeting that icy blue gaze. “But you done lost the one that took care of you.�

To his horror, her eyes filled with tears. Ororo turned away, her shoulders shaking. Normally, Logan only witnessed the rare crying jag when she happened to be burdened by pregnancy. But this time, his crass words caused the tears. That for some reason, made him want to claw his own face off.

“Hold up,� he interrupted, coming around the breakfast bar to face her. “Time out. Foul. Shit. Don’t cry. Scott’ll come back from the dead to kick my ass.�

That, for some reason, made her giggle weakly. Feeling an odd kinship with her, Logan rubbed her biceps in a way he thought was comforting, trying to not envision Scott in ghostly form giving him a swift kick in the ass.

“I wanna see the boys.� He insisted when her tears began to dry.

Ororo nodded immediately. “Go ahead.�

He found them in the neighbor’s yard, playing quietly with the youthful Lydia looking on. Autumn had come to Chicago, sending a swift bite into the air while leaves turned from lush green to vibrant shades of gold and crimson.

As Logan unlatched the gate, Evan turned around. Even his godfather could see the hollowness in the four-year-old’s eyes, a loss of innocence nothing would replace. The boy said nothing, jumping up from his place beside his brother to run for the gate. Logan crouched without meaning to, opening his arms to the boy he’d held at just minutes old.

“Uncle Logan.� Evan whispered, wrapping chubby little arms around his neck. “Uncle Logan. You came.�

“Course I came,� Logan replied softly, willing the lump in his throat to pass. He couldn’t fall apart, especially not now. Ororo was breaking piece by piece, even Logan could see it. The boys needed something strong, something to hold on to while their mother did her best with grief and pregnancy.

“Daddy went to heaven.� Evan whispered, pulling back to look at his godfather. “Mommy said we couldn’t go visit him there.�

To his horror, Logan felt tears sting the backs of his eyes. Luckily, Christopher saved him from the moment of weakness, ambling up slowly and wrapping his arms around Logan and his little brother.

“Its ok, boys,� Logan told them, though the words sounded hollow to his own ears. “Uncle Logan’s here now.�

“Mom’s so sad,� Chris offered quietly. “She doesn’t smile anymore.�

Logan put both children on the ground, taking their tiny hands in his massive ones, meeting both sets of boyish eyes, one blue one brown. He took a deep breath, trying to will his heart to still. It ached as the pain began to hit him. Evan looked so much like his father that Logan was momentarily winded by the sorrow. How could Scott have left them all alone? What kind of cruelty did that to a happy family?

“Mommy’s real sad,� Logan explained to the boys. “She loved your Dad like no one else. Her heart’s all broken inside.�

Evan frowned, sniffling a little, his nose red from the cold. “Can we fix her broked heart?�

“We’ll try, son,� Logan replied earnestly. No matter what Ororo said, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Now he understood Xavier’s order – left by messenger – that he was on leave effectively immediately until he was ready to return.

“Come on,� Logan told the boys, standing up. They flanked him easily, one hand from each child encased in his. They walked back through the gate, waving a quick goodbye to the smiling Lydia.

~*~

He had contemplated stopping for flowers, but dismissed the idea as he drove past a florist. Scott would laugh his ass off if Logan turned up with a bouquet of roses or something. Instead, he’d bought a bottle of Jim Bean in tribute to his friend.

The cemetery was not hard to find, he’d actually been there before during a Veteran’s Day service. Logan couldn’t remember why they’d gone there, but he’d stood beside Scott and a heavily pregnant Ororo while listening to the service. It’d struck a chord in him, looking at all these men who fought for their country without the aid of mutations. What kind of bravery did that take? Logan often threw himself into the fray, but he was damn near immortal. A man or woman without such did the same with no guarantee.

Scott and Logan had stayed up all night, tinkering with the vintage car in the garage, talking about it. Neither of them understood it, but they respected it. In his fractured memory, it was the most heart-to-heart conversation he and Scott ever shared. Logan was not surprised that it was on his mind when he approached the grave.

His motorcycle was parked on the narrow roadway while Logan walked through the falling leaves. It wasn’t hard to find the grave marked with Scott’s name. In true Ororo style, the headstone was of solid granite, tasteful and simple. Engraved into the heavy stone were Scott’s full name, the years he’d lived and the man’s favorite quote.

“Mourn the losses, because they are many. Rejoice in the victories, because they are few.�

Logan spoke the words quietly, standing at the place where his best friend was buried. Chill wind took the words away, a whisper carried to wherever Scott lived on. Logan had never been one for faith or religion, but he hoped against hope that Scott had not simply “ended� the day his life was taken away. He wished for a heaven his friend could rest in, keep an eye on his beloved wife and children from.

There were tears in his eyes again when Logan crouched at the headstone, placing the bottle of Jim Beam so that it propped against the smooth granite. Thick fingers brushed away wet leaves and dried earth, clearing the headstone so the name and words were clear.

“How’s it goin’?� Logan asked, not feeling ridiculous as he thought he might. He could feel Scott there, an experience that Logan shied from and embraced. Maybe it wasn’t too late to say goodbye, after all.

“I shoulda been here. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have waited so long to come here. God, I hope you know that, Slim. You know I wouldn’t have left ‘Ro to deal with everything alone.� Logan stared at the name engraved in stone, his heart weeping inside while he blinked back tears. “Cyke. Shit. I can’t believe this. Part of me won’t, I keep thinking you’ll jump out from behind this stone and laugh til you piss yourself.�

“But I saw Storm’s eyes. This ain’t a joke. You’re really not coming back. You really went the one place I can’t haul your ass out of.� Logan felt the lump in his throat grow. “Man, you done left behind a mess. Here I am, trying to clean it all up for you. But I promised I would. I remember that promise. I told you if anything ever happened, I’d take care of ‘Ro and those boys for you. I won’t break it. I’m even including the new one in there, since she wasn’t around for it.�

Logan dropped his head forward, one hand stretching out to touch the cold stone. “I miss you, man. We never got to finish our talk about Bud versus Molson. I never helped you install that pool table down in the basement. So much we didn’t do, didn’t say.�

But they were alone now. Logan glanced around, his fingers flexing on the top of Scott’s headstone. “I love you, Slim. You’re the best friend a guy could ask for. Even after everything with Jean, you never turned away. I never told you how much that meant to me. Maybe I should have.�

He looked up into the cloudy sky, one tear trickling from his eye to near-freeze on his scruffy cheek. “But you hear me now, don’t you? You know that you’re my brother in every way that matters. I’ll take care of your family, Slim. I’ll teach your boys about girls and football. I’ll scare away your daughter’s first date. I’ll make sure ‘Ro finds some way to smile again.�

Logan put his hand over his heart. “You’re right here with me, man. You won’t miss anything.�

He stood up, unable to go on while the pain was so fresh in his heart. He felt a hand on his shoulder, the ghostly touch of a man taken too soon. Logan’s chin crumpled with rare emotion and he reached up as though he could touch that hand. “See ya round, Slim.�

~**~

She’d known he would come back. The boys told her that Uncle Logan promised he’d come back that night, that they could have a little camp out in the back yard. Ororo didn’t have the heart to tell them she didn’t want Logan around. There was enough to deal with, enough to do. She couldn’t handle another person to keep watch over.

Once the boys had gone to their room to fight over the X-Box, Ororo crawled into her bed. Dinner was in the oven, keeping warm for when Logan returned. No matter how she wanted that dangerous, unpredictable man out of her home, she couldn’t send him off without food. Ororo blamed it on the maternal instincts exemplified by her unborn child.

Most days were spent in bed lately. Ororo buried herself under the covers, grabbing the pillow that no longer smelled of Scott’s shampoo. She buried her face in the downy fabric, feeling her baby kick against her belly. No one else could feel it yet, but Ororo could. The little flutter of butterfly wings deep inside, where a new life was born even in the aftermath of tragedy.

She did not remember falling asleep or the return of Logan. She’d been lost in dreams where Scott was still alive. He came home that awful night, wrapped her in his arms, played with their boys, kissed her belly until she giggled. They made love in their own bed, fell asleep together as usual. Her life had no ended when Scott died, after all.

There were tearstains on her cheeks when she awoke. Laughter drifted into the house from outside as Ororo realized darkness had settled on the house. Irritated with herself and worried that the boys had not been fed, she kicked the blankets off and scrambled out of her room.

But there were dishes washed in the draining bin, leftovers wrapped and put away. Ororo found a plate filled with stroganoff in the microwave, a place set at the kitchen table, with the fork and napkin lying on the plate. That was Christopher’s doing. Evan always folded the napkin into a triangle and put the fork on the left side. Touched, Ororo searched for the sound of dopey little boy giggles, realizing they were coming from the backyard.

Her immunity to cold made it easy to step outside without a coat or shoes. She found the boy’s Bob the Builder tent opened in the yard, the light from three flashlights reflected on the blue and yellow material. Ororo sighed, knowing her plan to ask Logan politely to go the hell away was now out of the question…at least for tonight.

Ororo almost smiled, seeing Logan’s socked feet sticking out of the tent flap. But the smile never formed when the widow remembered that was the only way Scott ever fit into that tent as well. She approached the tent carefully, hearing the panting of Buster and realizing all four were somehow squished into that child’s tent.

Opening the flap, Ororo’s heart thudded to see her goofy boys lying on either side of their godfather, the three of them playing a form of tag with their flashlights on the tent. Buster had his head on Logan’s stomach, snoring a little while the boys lay in their warm, flannel sleeping bags.

“Hi, Mommy!� Evan said with a wave. The other two looked toward the open flap, a smile on each face. Ororo had not seen the boys so happy since the day their father died. Part of her hated that Logan was able to pull that off when she had not been able to.

“What’s going on?� Ororo asked, crouching in the entrance to the tent. She hand one hand on her belly, the other on the tent pole.

“Camp out,� Logan nodded, grinning at his godsons. “Wanna come in?�

“Yeah! Come in, Mommy!� Christopher said, opening his sleeping bag. “You can share my bag!�

Ororo smiled, a genuine smile for once, and shook her head. “There isn’t enough room for me and the baby. How about I make you some snacks?�

Logan was staring at her, but Ororo ignored him. “S’mores and popcorn?�

Evan hooted, pumping his tiny fist into the air. “Yeah! Uncle Logan said he’d make us a fire in Daddy’s pit.�

The mention of Scott made her smile falter, but Ororo nodded. “All right. I’ll bring it around from the garage, get you some snacks. How’s that?�

The boys high-fived over Logan’s body. Ororo blew both her sons kisses and stood up awkwardly, her center of gravity off kilter due to the baby growing in her belly.

As she moved toward the house, she heard Logan come out of the tent, telling the boys to stay put while he helped their mother. Ororo waited until they had gone inside before she turned on Logan. “What are you doing?�

Logan stared at her, obviously expecting her explosion. “Keeping a promise.�

Ororo gave him a disgusted sigh, stomping to the pantry. She threw the doors open, yanking out graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows and a large chocolate bar. Popcorn came out as well, the pregnant mutant dropping the armful onto the counter.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?�

Logan shrugged one shoulder. “You looked tired. I fed the boys, cleaned up, I thought you might like the break.�

“So you could think what a terrible mother I am?� Ororo spat, feeling nausea roll in her stomach. “I don’t usually sleep that long.�

He frowned, reaching out to grasp her arm. “I didn’t think that. You’re a great mother, but you’re grieving and pregnant. I just tried to do something nice.�

Temper flared quickly, thunder rolled in the distance but Storm was quick to stop it. She yanked her arm out of Logan’s grasp, turning away from him. She’d shooed the X-Men away when they tried to help her, wanting to prove…what? That she could still function? That her children were the only reason she bothered to go on?

“You don’t do nice unless there’s something in it for you.� Ororo shot back. But she faltered, grabbing onto the counter. An odd pain had shot through her abdomen, making her free hand grasp her stomach. She winced with the pain, hearing the distant, startled cry.

“RO!� Logan was beside her in a second, arms supporting her back. “You ok? Is it the baby? Should I call the doctor?�

“Let me go!� Ororo demanded. Another pain shot through her belly. Not my baby. Don’t let anything happen to my baby. “I just got worked up. I just need a second.�

Logan did not release her, but half-carried her to the kitchen table. He sat her in the nearest chair, kneeling beside it, watching her carefully. Ororo hated breaking down, but the tears came without her approval. Everything was always a damn crisis lately.

Ororo put both hands on her belly, feeling the baby move inside. Her head fell forward, tears coursing freely down her dark cheeks. A glance to Logan’s face revealed the worry in his eyes, the concern written all over his gruff features. She didn’t want his concern, but part of her reached out to the kindred spirit before she was lost once more to grief.

“I’m sorry,� Ororo choked out. “I just can’t keep falling apart.�

“Don’t have to explain to me,� Logan replied, his voice softer than she could remember hearing it. “You’ve got every right.�

“I don’t!� Ororo fought through the weeping. “I have to be strong, for my boys, for my baby.�

“Let me be the strong one for a while.� Logan insisted.

Without knowing why, Ororo threw her arms around him. He enveloped her into a hug, holding her close even with the baby between them. Ororo drew in his strength, letting her tears dry and pulling the skies back from the brink of rain.

Logan continued to hold her that way until she had control over herself again. Ororo still wanted to be alone with her children, but something told her Logan wouldn’t leave easily. She wondered what Scott would do, and conceded that he’d never had as much trouble accepting help as she.

When Ororo pulled back, she wiped at the tearstains on her cheeks. “The pit is in the garage. I’ll take this stuff out to the boys.�

Logan nodded and in typical form, said nothing of her breakdown. “Boys’ll like that. Wanna join us?�

She shook her head, snowy tresses trembling with the movement. “No. I’ll have my dinner and head back to bed. If you need anything…�

“I’ll handle it. I still remember were the first aid kit is.� Logan held his hands up at Ororo’s shocked expression. “Joke. It was a joke.�

~**~


Ororo watched from the window while Logan and her sons created a fire outside. They were sitting on lawn chairs in the darkness, holding marshmallows on sticks into the fire. Every now and then, Logan tossed one to Buster, who waited patiently for the next morsel.

Her boys were laughing at the stories Logan told, most of them about Scott and Ororo during their X-Men days. The boys always enjoyed hearing about their parents as modern-day superheroes, and never passed up an opportunity to hear more about their adventures.

She could almost imagine Scott out there with them, chiming in with Logan’s stories, sharing a beer with his best friend. Ororo’s heart ached within her breast, comforted only in the gentle sound of her sons’ laughter. For a while, they could forget that their family was shattered. There was no doubt that Logan brought her boys comfort, even if their mother wanted to carry on alone.

Turning from the window, Ororo moved to the closet in the dim light. She’d left on the bathroom light, a habit from years of marriage. Scott was ever paranoid that the boys might creep into their bedroom in the darkness and trip, so since Christopher learned to walk, they kept a light on.

Upon the closet door was a mirror. Ororo paused, peering at her reflection. Her soft satin nightgown clung to the curve of her belly, so she turned to the side. The swell was more visible every day, soft as it was. She touched her own stomach, pulling the material back so the swell seemed larger. Never would she have imagined being without Scott, much less while carrying his child.

Letting her hands fall, Ororo opened the closet, eyes immediately went to Scott’s clothes. She stepped into the massive closet, grabbing his favorite navy blue suit by the sleeve. A deep inhale of the soft material brought her Scott’s scent and Ororo’s heart ached even more.

Even after a month, everything was so hard. Her arm still reached for him in the night, she woke expecting to see his face. Releasing the jacket, Ororo grabbed an old, faded sweatshirt emblazoned with “Xavier’s� across the front. She pulled it on over her nightgown and crawled into bed.

The sound of her tears resonated through the room until she lost herself to sleep.