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NOTE: I would like to go on record saying I am pro choice: YOUR BODY=YOUR DECISION.

The following week felt like it never happened. Ororo couldn’t help but notice how strange it was watching people be so happy and carefree when she felt like she was suffocating. She wondered if this was how depressed people felt; watching someone else be so content with an illusion when reality was so harsh and knowing their happiness was still attainable with said knowledge of reality was... fucking with her head. And in an even stranger way, she smiled because of it and not in spite of it.

When the initial shock wore off-- “initial” being loosely used-- Ororo relaxed a bit. She had yet to cry and really, all she felt was numb. The worry was completely gone in favor of a total nothingness; Ororo welcomed the nothingness wholeheartedly. Who knew how long she could go without consciously thinking about her pregnancy? She would show soon enough. Or... Maybe. She hadn’t gone to the clinic yet.

The option of abortion was still viable.

Ororo once read in a psychology textbook that one of the symptoms of depression was feeling nothing. So she was depressed, but thinking about having an abortion was... Well, she didn’t think of it often. For now, she was hoping she’d somehow switched pregnancy tests with a ghost, or was in a coma, or was totally going crazy and imagined everything. If she was going crazy, then she would tell Charles that she needed to get some antipsychotics because having The Discussion-- she called it “The Discussion”-- wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

And Logan.

Maybe he would never know.

Maybe nothing was happening and she was having a weird body moment. What if someone peed on her test, packed it, then was chuckling their head off? (Honestly, Ororo considered this option and checked the box for a note. If there was a note, Ororo imagined it would read something like: “You’re not pregnant, but if you’re buying this box, maybe you deserve to be.”)

Maybe she deserved this for not only having unprotected sex, but considering abortion.

“Ro, come on. We’ve got dance practice.”

Ororo smiled, gathered her books, and pushed herself forward. That was all she felt like she was doing nowadays-- pushing herself. Before, Ororo pushed herself because she liked being challenged. Now, Ororo wanted to smack her little head off her shoulders for thinking she was invincible to life.

She resisted the strange urge to rub her stomach.

Two weeks passed since... Then. Ororo stretched her legs and twisted her back, trying to loosen up. Dance required discipline and flexibility, both aspects going hand in hand. One could not perform well will a stiff back and wayward hamstring. Her body had been really tight these past few weeks, weeks before she became... That. A large part of her soreness was due to hunching over desks while studying, but another part was because of Logan.

When they first met, Ororo was getting over her ex, T, or T’Challa. She swore she was in love with T’Challa, and maybe she was!- but she was young and confused. It wasn’t until Logan that she knew there was a deeper feel to love. Being with Logan meant smiling at failed attempts of romanticism and feeling proud when something important happened outside of yourself or the relationship. Being in love with Logan meant staying up all night wanting to go to sleep, but forcing yourself to stay awake for a few more minutes because they just wanted to hear your voice.

And that was before they started having sex.

Ororo and Logan didn’t start having sex until she turned eighteen. He wanted to wait, not only for the law-- Logan was twenty three-- but so that she could be sure. She was so young and impressionable, he wanted to know she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Ororo didn’t see the big deal; she’d had sex with T’Challa a few times and gave her virginity to Forge, but Logan was adamant. He swore he loved her, and love was equivalent to respect for Logan. After all, he’d been in a few really horrible relationships and wanted more this time around.

He called her special. He said she was the only one for him. He said “I love you” first. He got her pregnant.

“Let’s run a few laps. Some of the girls decided to be late... Marie. Seven laps,” snapped their coach. Ororo glanced at Marie who looked sheepish. Everyone knew that her boyfriend, Remy, would meet her before practice. Recently, though, ever since they started having sex, Remy became even grabbier with Marie. It was cute, because for all his flirty looks and slutty ways, Marie was the only one to get the bashful side of Remy to show up; Ororo knew Marie secretly loved it.

“Sorry,” Marie mumbled.

The girls started running on the track. There were eight dancers, but they all made a huge clump in the middle. It was a tactic they often employed to look like they were running when really they were shuffling their feet. Today, however, Ororo was pounding the track, her legs making incredible strides.

She once read in Anatomy that women had miscarriages from strenuous exercise. Well... Maybe if she ran hard enough she could escape this. Maybe at the end of seven laps there would be some sort of... release. Ororo mentally shook her head, scolding herself for thinking “release” was the right word. “Solution” was better, though her actual attempts to miscarry could be considered the solution in action.

An abortion would be easier, but she didn’t know whether or not New York was one of those states that required you to see a sonogram and have consent. Both were out of the question. Ororo suspected she was more than two weeks along, but she couldn’t stomach knowing how far up shit creek she was. And consent? Let’s be serious.

Her father was a well respected man of society. Charles Xavier, business man extraordinaire/Nobel Peace Prize Winner/essayist/novelist/philanthropist give consent to an abortion?! Charles was a peaceful man if his Peace Prize was any indication. He’d taken Ororo on summer trips around the world to spend time working in charities and talking with foreign governments on how to prevent civil unrest; if there was civil unrest already, Charles would spend time mediating with the government on behalf of the people. Him sign for her abortion? That was the most ludicrous idea ever conceived and Ororo had conceived!

And Logan?

Oh.

She pumped her arms in time with her legs. Sweat poured from her brow and dripped from her thighs. It wasn’t the summer heat in fall, but the force and sheer power that came from within. She’d never been able to run this fast before, and Ororo doubted she would ever. Her speed, her grace, her motive-- they would never happen again.

“Great job, Munroe!” her coach shouted as Ororo all but flew by for the fourth lap. “Six minute mile!” Ororo gave a quick nod then picked up the pace. Nothing was happening. Preternaturally, Ororo knew she was still carrying their baby. Something was totally wrong! At this speed, her body should have been breaking down, but it seemed as though Logan’s seed was determined to stay.

The revelation both infuriated her and worried her. If pushing her body to the point of exhaustion didn’t save her, then an abortion probably wouldn’t either. Because she knew she could never bone up enough courage to schedule an appointment and hear she had a perfectly healthy fetus growing within her womb that she was about to abort.

It was foolish, but Ororo ran faster.





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