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Xavier Institute
Westchester, New York
Boathouse/ Early morning

Ororo clutched the rim of the toilet, her stomach heaving the very last of its contents into the pot, a wet sacrifice to the porcelain god of ill humors and drunken nights. She blindly reached up to the sink, grabbing for the washcloth that she had placed there moments ago. She wiped her mouth, shakily rising to her feet. She caught her tortured blue eyes in the medicine cabinet and she shook her head, pushing damp tendrils of hair away from her face, and off of her forehead. “Keep it together, Storm.” she told her reflection. She ran the tap, soaking the cloth in icy water, wiping her face.
“Storm! You okay in there?” Jubilee’s voice rang through the hall making Ororo wince. Jubilee had been asked--correction, assigned, to stay with her by Logan until he returned from Japan.
Ororo cleared her throat quietly, then hollered back, “Yeah. Just a little morning sickness.”
“Eeeewwww. So no waffles for you?”
Ororo’s stomach rolled in protest. “No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. More for me!”
Taking several deep breaths Ororo straightened. The woman in the mirror stared back with accusing eyes. Liar, she said. As she watched, as though a different person, the woman in the mirror leaned forward, her eyes clouding in pain as a thick stream of crimson flowed from her nostril. Slowly Ororo lifted her fingers to touch her face, wiping the stickiness away. She reapplied the washcloth, muttering, “Just keep it together…”

Japan

Logan puffed the end of his cigar, blowing a cloud of blue gray smoke into the confines of the luxurious limo he and Betsy were traveling in.
“Must you do that?” she asked. She sat opposite him, crossing her toned legs, her black skirt sliding up her smooth thigh. She smirked as she caught the direction of his gaze.
He didn’t reply, instead gazing out the window, cigar firmly clenched between his teeth. Tokyo. The city was huge, mammoth in ways that boggled the mind. Large electronic billboards advertised the latest in technology and apparel. Lights of every conceivable shape and color were lit, flashing in the night. It made Vegas look like a paltry Christmas tree by comparison.
Thinking of Vegas he thought of ‘Ro. He rubbed his wedding band. He missed her already and they had only been apart a day and a half. His mouth twisted in a wry grin. Who would have thought he’d be done in so thoroughly by a woman. Ah, but what a woman…
“Who’s Mariko?” Betsy asked after a long silence.
He snapped his head around, gray eyes narrowed.
“You were moaning her name in your sleep on the plane. Former lover?” She stretched her arms along the back of the beige leather, her suit jacket pulled tight against her chest.
“None of yer business.”
“Hm. I was simply curious. Touchy subject I see.” She twirled a lock of blue-black hair. “From the wood you were sporting I assumed--”
“Bets, I ain’t Gumbo, so keep yer comments, yer flirting and yer hormones in check,” he growled.
She sat up a bit straighter. “ETA?” she asked, pressing the intercom button.
“Ten minutes.” Came the driver’s reply.
“You ready?” she asked, her hand skimming her thigh to double check the holstered gun she had there.
-SNIKT- “Lady, I was born ready.”

Xavier Institute
Front Lawn/Afternoon

Warm sunshine filtered through the trees, casting dotted shadows on the three women occupying the large blanket spread over the lush green grass at the front of the estate.
“Potato salad?” Kitty held out a round plastic container towards Ali and Ororo.
“Sure.” Ali scooped a small amount onto her plate, next to the chicken she had cooked. She licked her spoon with relish, her tongue ring clicking on the silver.
“This is nice,” Ororo commented, tilting her head into the sun, her hair held back by a floppy sun hat, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze that danced along her skin. Kitty had invited both her and Ali to have a picnic with her to celebrate their pregnancies.
Kitty beamed, her cheek dimpling. She crunched a celery stick, layered with peanut butter, chewing enthusiastically. They had been enjoying the sun and relaxing for almost an hour. “Have either of you thought of any names?”
Ali shrugged one white cotton clad shoulder, “Not really. You, Stormy?”
“A couple.” Ororo nodded slowly, reopening her eyes.
“Really? Give,” Ali said, sipping her lemonade and wincing against the tang. “How much sugar did you use, Kit-Kat?”
“Sugar?”
“Never mind.”
Kitty prodded Storm. “Names…” She leaned forward enthusiastically, her honey eyes dancing.
Ororo smiled, holding one hand to her still flat front. “I like Skyeler and Chance.”
Ali nodded and smiled. “Me too. Good choices.”
Kitty took a bite of her salad. “Are you nervous?” she asked both after a thoughtful chew.
“Yes.” Ororo and Ali answered in unison.
A shadow passed and Warren passed a few feet away, walking with Colossus, talking amicably. His wings were bandaged together to keep from further injuring the damage Gambit had done with his charged cards.
“So, what’s the scoop with you and Warren?” Kitty asked Alison quietly.
Ali raised one eyebrow, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. “Nothing. Just friends. I don‘t want or need a rebound boy from Gambit.” She gave Warren a lingering once over. “Although…I could do much worse.”
Storm gave Ali a friendly shove in the arm. “You behave.”
Ali laughed. “Prude.”
“Married.”
“I’m not.”
“She has a point.”
“Kitty, you’re not supposed to encourage this.” Ororo gave Warren a glance. He was rather attractive…if you went for the muscular, tanned, gorgeous Adonis types.
“Uh, Stormy?”
“Hm?”
“Your bleeding.”
“Huh?”
Ali grabbed Ororo’s arm. “Your bleeding.”
“I am? That’s niiiice.” Ororo’s eyes rolled in the back of her head and she crumpled to the blanket, straw hat bouncing fro her head, snow colored hair spilling onto the grass.
“Gambit!” Ali’s response was automatic, calling for the one person Ororo loved as much as Logan. He was there before his name had cleared her throat.
“What ‘appened?” He asked, lifting Storm, careful to cradle her head into his shoulder.
“Her nose started bleeding and she passed out.” Ali was worried, her brow furrowed. “We need to get her to the med lab.”
Gambit was in motion immediately, with Ali and Kitty following. He began murmuring into Storm’s hair, “C’mon, padnat. Wake up, sleepin’ beauty…You be makin’ dis boy nervous.”
“Nnn…” Ororo turned her head into his chest. “L-logan?”
“Non, petite. It be Gambit.”
She clutched his jacket. “Put me down!”
“Non we need t’ get you t’ da medla--”
“DOWN!” she screamed.
Gambit released her and she shoved away from him. “Move away from me!”
“Padnat-?”
“Storm-?” Ali moved forward slowly.
“Uh, guys…” Kitty was looking overhead, clouds swirling and rolling over each other in a an angry fray. “Maybe we should back up…”
Thunder rumbled over head and the sky darkened, the warm afternoon sun blotted out by the building tempest and winds howled, long and deep and mournful. Ororo stumbled, her hair raising as little snippets of electricity coursed through her body. Torrential rain poured from the sky and before anyone had time to blink, white hot lightening crashed to the ground, through Storm’s body, searing the air and scorching the earth. Her ragged scream was the most terrible sound Gambit had ever heard.
It seemed endless, the flashes of white, the screams torn from his sister’s throat, but in a matter of seconds it was over and Storm lay on the ground, smoke rising from her charred flesh, her clothing in tatters. Gambit raced forward, tearing his duster from his shoulders, wrapping it around Storm’s steaming form. He didn’t understand. The elements were Stormy’s to control, how could she be hurt by them? It made no sense.
“Stormy. Chere, please…” Gambit lifted her, wincing as the heat from her body scalded him. She hung limply in his arms, unmoving, not breathing.
“Rem?” Ali was shaking. “Is she…?”
Gambit forced himself to remain calm. He tightened his hold on his sister, calling her name. “Please…”


Japan

Wood splintered, two bodies flying through the once ornate and elegant door like leaden lumps.
“Cripes, Bets. Way ta be subtle.” Wolverine strolled through the broken door, following the stealth clad woman who had single handedly taken out the two guards in front of the Yashida mansion.
“Subtle? Coming from you that’s an almost comical concept.” The glowing blade generated by her telekinetic powers faded and she tightened her ponytail. “Get ready.”
Wolverine crouched low, poised for attack, his body a finely tuned weapon. “I smelled ‘em three minutes ago, darlin’.”
Through the far wall and windows entered dozens of armed protectors of the clan Yashida. Wolverine smirked. “Nice jammies.” He moved quickly, adrenaline pumping through his system. The ninjas countered with years of honed fluidity, but Wolverine knew his body, his abilities, he was primal, and unstoppable force of nature. Against him, they didn’t stand a chance. Forty seconds after the fight began it was over, unconscious men groaning on the floor.
“How many killed?” Betsy asked nonchalantly, watching the action from the opposite doorway.
“None.”
“Injured?”
He looked down. “One…two…all of ’em.”
She grinned. “Storm was right. You are hell on wheels.” Betsy disappeared through the door, her feet not making a sound as she raced along the carpeted hall.
Hell on wheels? The idea of Storm referring to him as such made him grin his feral grin. With a satisfying kick to one of the more mobile of the groaners, he followed Betsy through the door and to the stairs.

New York

Gambit watched in fascination as the charred and blackened skin on Ororo’s arms began to heal, pulling itself together. It was a slower process than when Wolverine did it, but it was happening none the less. “Good.” Gambit breathed. “Someone get da Professor,” he ordered. “Are you all right, Ali?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah. How’s Stormy?”
Gambit shifted her in his arms so that Ali could see her healing herself. She raised questioning aqua eyes to his devil red ones. He shrugged, he had no answer. He hoped Xavier did.
Ten minutes later in the med lab Ororo’s body was almost completely healed, yet she hadn’t regained consciousness. Ali paced the room, chewing her lower lip raw.
“Petite, you ‘ave t’ relax.”
“I can’t.”
“T’ink of da bebe.” Gambit said softly.
Ali gave him a narrow look. “It’s all I think about. I can’t just shut off, okay. I’m worried about Storm.”
“I know, chere. But still-”
“Shut it, Gambit.” Ali snapped. She rubbed her forehead. “Just shut up. You’re working my last nerve, bucko.”
Gambit leaned against the wall, silently studying her. She had a glow about her now. He had always heard tell of pregnant women glowing, but he had never seen it. Until now. Her normally spiked hair hung to her shoulders in various lengths, pushed behind her elfin ears in worried agitation. She fiddled with her black spiked wristband, twisting it around and around while she paced. She was still as enticing to him as ever. Beautiful dark elf, pixie, mischievous troublemaker. His very heart. He kicked himself for the thousandth time as he looked at her. How he could have done what he did… But he had, and he knew why. Because he was a fucking coward. A man used to playing the field, of being in control. Never feeling more than a passing attraction and along comes Ali and plows him over. Makes him feel. Really feel. He cursed under his breath. Fucking idiot, being afraid of loving her. Stupid, fucking idiot--
“Yes, you are.” Ali agreed, catching the last portion of his inner conversation.
The doors to Storm’s room hissed open and Hank stepped out.
“Well?” Ali was practically on top of him.
“She’s resting.”
“Her baby?” Ali asked.
Henry removed his spectacles. “Fine.”
“Thank God.” Ali sighed.
Gambit straightened. “What baby?”
Ali frowned. “Storm’s preggers too.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“’Ow in da world…?”
“I assume her and Wolverine have sex; they are married.”
Gambit shook his head, auburn hair falling into his forehead, making Ali’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside. “I mean, Stormy always t’ought she couldn’ ‘ave kids.”
“I guess she was wrong.” Ali looked at Hank for confirmation. “Right Big Blue?”
A brief hesitation before, “Right.” He tucked his glasses in his lab coat pocket. “If you both will excuse me, I have to check on…something.”
Ali watched him go. “Is Beasty acting weird to you?”
“You’re asking me if da big blue furry mutant dat speakes in words so complex I geta ‘eadache jus’ t’inkin ‘bout dem and can climb a wall in less den a second is actin’ weird?” Gambit shrugged. “Definitely.”
“Do you want to go in first?” she asked.
“I don’ see why we can’t go together.”
“I don’t think so , Slick.”
“For a girl dat hates nicknames you use dem an awful lot.”
Ali didn’t reply. She gave him a slanted look. “There are other names I want to call you, Gambit. None of them pleasant.” She walked through the doors without a backward glance.
Gambit swore again, a string of Cajun curses. There were other names she did call him, once upon a time. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening as he heard her whispered voice in his ear, “Yes, Etenne. Je t’aime.” His hands clenched in tight fists. She was his, they were meant to be. He wasn’t giving up.

Japan

Silver blades whistled through the air, narrowly missing Wolverine as he spun and leapt, flipping over the newest round of attackers, his feet connecting with keen accuracy to each attacker, rendering them useless in moments.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Betsy asked with a mild smile.
“No.” He sniffed the air.
“Well?”
“Clear.”
They moved as a unit through the shadowed hall way, checking each room they passed for occupants. None to be found.
“A house this size, only occupied by ninjas. Seems a bit fishy.” Betsy commented.
“Yep.”
“You are quite the conversationalist.” she smirked.
“Ain’t here ta talk.”
Suddenly the wall beside them burst into flames and a voice said in crisp Japanese, “[Leave this place, intruders. Or face the wrath of Sunfire!]”
Wolverine grinned feral. “Just the punk we were lookin’ fer.”
Another fireball crashed into the house, sending Betsy reeling. Wolverine roped his arm around her waist, tossing himself out the second story window, pulling her with him.
-SNIKT- He braced her with one arm and dug his claws into the wood with his free hand, slowing their descent to the ground.
Betsy landed with feline grace, flipping into a fighting stance, psi-blade poised and ready.
Wolverine landed in a crouch, prepared for battle. Streams of fire shot across the sky, rocketing towards the two X-Men. “Where the hell is he?” he shouted to Betsy.
“I think he’s airborne. I can’t see him.”
“[Looking for me?]” A large fireball punched Wolverine in the back, sending him soaring across the yard, rolling and burning. The smell of scorched flesh heavy in the air. With a groan he levered himself up and glared at the man hovering a few feet away in a red and white costume and mask.
“Nice costume, Bub.”
“[This is not a costume. This is a uniform!]”
“Yeah, well a couple of kids trick or treatin’ last year had the exact same ‘uniforms’.” Wolverine’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“[You mock me at your peril!]” Sunfire bellowed, blasting another set of plasma fireballs at Wolverine.
Wolverine evaded easily, his movements carefully controlled as he watched Shiro. He could feel a stirring in his mind, like a lingering though that would not go away. Memories trying to resurface. “Word is you’ve become vigilante, Sunfire and need to be brought down.” he growled.
“[It will take more than the likes of you, stranger.]”
Wolverine smirked. Betsy had moved along the house, undetected by Shiro and she was now climbing the lattice work, moving into a better attack position.
“[I doubt it. From what I hear you‘re all piss and no vinegar.]” Wolverine argued in flawless Japanese. Just a little closer, Betsy…
“[Insignificant fool!]” Sunfire spouted, angered. He drew back to launch another attack and caught Betsy’s motion out of the corner of his eye. He whirled, shooting flames at her, causing her to leap prematurely and fall towards the ground.
Wolverine raced forward, launching himself off of the ground and catching Betsy mid-fall, rolling with her on the ground.
“Nice catch,” she smiled up at him from the flat of her back. Her eyes widened. “Behind you!”
Wolverine rotated quickly -SNIKT- claws slicing through the fire ball aimed at his back, flames licking his arms and sideburns. He growled, angrily.
“Hold on!” Betsy used her telekinesis to launch him into the air at Sunfire. The younger mutant looked startled, too late realizing that three hundred pounds of adamantium laced fury was barreling down upon him. Wolverine connected with a solid thud, knocking Shiro to the ground and landing a solid punch to the Japanese mutant’s covered face.
“Wolverine.” Betsy gripped his arm. “Look.”
All around the Yashida mansion and along the walls, archers stood poised to fire. Hundreds of them. Wolverine growled.
“Shh.” Betsy said. “You may be able to survive being a pin cushion, but I assure you I am not quite so fortunate.” She bowed as a symbol of greeting and respect, all the while her eyes on the shadowed figure approaching through the darkness behind the trees.
Wolverine straightened, keeping one foot firmly planted on Shiro’s throat.
“Remove your foot from Sunfire’s body.” The large man approaching commanded.
“I don’t think so, Bub.”
“Do as you are commanded, or else face the wrath of the Silver Samurai.”
Wolverine’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met?”
The larger man stepped forward, his silver costume glinting in the moonlight. “Hei, Logan-san. And this time you will not be lucky enough to walk away.”

New York

“Hey, girl. You look like hell.”
Ororo smiled weakly from the sterile bed she was laying in. “Thanks.”
Ali sat on the edge of the bed, a concerned frown on her face. “What the hell was that all about, Storm?”
Ororo shrugged. “Hormones.”
“Like hell.” Ali glowered. “I’m pregnant too, girlie, and my powers ain’t all wacked out. Much less hurting me.”
“Everyone is different.” Ororo said, shifting her weight and wincing a bit.
“Is something wrong?”
“You mean aside from the obvious? No, just not comfortable laying in here.”
“Hm.”
Ororo was quiet for a moment. “Any word from Wolverine?”
Ali shook her head. “Nope. Him and Super Slut are still out of satellite link.”
Ororo chuckled.
“You gonna tell me what’s really going on?”
Silence.
“Didn’t think so.” Ali stood, slightly angry. “You may think you can handle everything on your own, Stormy, and who the hell knows, maybe you can. But I can’t, and I need to know that my best friend is all right and not keeping shit from me.”
“I’m fine, Ali,” Ororo said, her blue eyes sincere. “Truly. Just some unexpected complications, but the baby is fine.” Ororo watched as Ali’s features softened and she felt like an ass for lying to her, but the alternative was the truth and she couldn’t risk that …not yet.
“Gambit’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.” Ali said at the door. “Do I let him in?”
Ororo brightened. “Send him in.”
“Yo, playboy. Stormy’s up.” Ali blew Storm a kiss over her shoulder. “I’ll be checking with you later.”
“Okay.” Ororo smiled and waved.
“Padnat.” Gambit strolled in, giving Ali a lingering look as they crossed paths, not going unnoticed by Ororo, who watched the display with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.
“Hello, brother dear,” Ororo chimed in false good humor.
“Why you no’ tell Remy you be ‘avin’ a bebe?” He leaned forward brushing her lips in a chaste kiss.
“I was planning on it. But you’ve been rather elusive.”
“Never too ‘ard for my Stormy t’ find.” he admonished. “You ‘ad me worried. Again.”
She gave a slight chuckle at the genuine disgruntled tone he carried. “Did you think being a big brother was easy?”
“Wit’ you? Never.” He ruffled her silken hair. “Can I?” His hand hovered over her belly.
“Sure. You can’t feel anything yet…”
“Oh, but I can, chere.” Gambit closed his eyes, his hand resting against her. After a moment he grinned and opened his eyes, shiny with moisture. “A boy.”
Ororo cocked her head. “Your empathic ability can tell you the sex of a baby?”
“Not usually, no. But dat definitely be da Wolverine’s son. All chock full o’ attitude already.”
Ororo ran one hand over her stomach, interlacing her fingers with Gambits. “A son. A son will make him happy…won’t it?” she looked uncertain. “It will be enough…?”
Gambit looked confused. “Enough for what, chere?”
Storm refused to meet his eyes. “Just thinking out loud,” she murmured.
‘Uh-huh.” gambit scooted her over, laying down beside her. He tucked her head against his chest and began to talk. About nothing, and about everything. It was good to be with her, his sis, his family.
Ororo smiled, thinking much the same thing. Oh, how she loved her rapscallion brother… Her mind drifted as did her eyes and soon she was asleep, visions of Logan filtering through her dreams. Always close, but ever elusive. She spent the rest of the night asleep, hunting for him in her dreams.

Japan

Wolverine blinked his eyes. He ached like a son of a bitch, his mouth tasting like dried blood. He spit. Sure enough. He pushed himself up with one hand, pulling several arrows from his body. Goddamn archers. He looked around. He was in a stone cell, shackled to the wall, a small cot in one corner and an open hole for a latrine in the other. Cozy.
He stood, scenting the air. No trace of Betsy. No trace of…wait. He tilted his head. Something familiar. Soft and feminine and familiar. He strained towards it. Vague stirrings in his mind, a fleeting sound of laughter. He closed his gray eyes, concentrating. Warm brown eyes, pale skin, fragile and delicate. He opened his eyes, a mournful growl in his throat. He knew that scent. Mariko.





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