Chapter Ten: Crash
Everything you say to me
Takes me one step closer to the edge
And I'm about to break
I need a little room to breathe
Cause I'm one step closer to the edge
I'm about to break
~Linkin Park
Though his body was sore from head to toe, Hank was sitting up when Ororo arrived. He smiled, beckoning her closer. Noting that she looked ragged and worried, he took her trembling hand the moment she was within reach, squeezing delicate fingers tightly.
“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking a seat on the stool beside his bed.
“As though I was in a horrific car accident,” he answered honestly, smoothing the worry lines from between her brows with his free hand. “But I will survive.”
“By the Goddess, Hank, what happened?” Ororo shifted, leaning on the edge of his bed.
Hank closed his eyes briefly, wishing Patricia were here with him now. He adored his friend, but something about his Trish made everything seem so much less worrisome. He could relax with her, breathe. That level of comfort had ever been alien to him, even in his doomed relationship with the beautiful mutant beside him.
Fighting memories of the car flipping into a ditch, the culprits speeding away as his driver fought for control, Hank exhaled shakily.
“I think someone is trying to have me killed.”
Ororo, to her credit, did not gasp or fall into uncontrollable weeping. She swallowed audibly, exhaling sharply. The woman beside him tilted her head, regarding him quietly for several moments. He knew he looked terrible, cuts and bruises covering his face. The rash on his forearm was covered to prevent infection and it ached something awful.
“Someone rammed the back of my sedan,” he explained. “George tried to avoid the ditch.”
“I saw him,” Ororo said swiftly. “He’ll be fine in a few days.”
Hank exhaled again. Thank goodness.
Before either of them could speak again, Hank’s hospital room door was flung open. Trish stood in the entryway, her face ravaged by tears and worry. Ororo stealthily slipped away as the other woman rushed to Hank’s side, her eyes locked onto the furry blue man.
She enveloped him in her arms and Hank smiled through the pain. He smelled the oranges of her shampoo, felt her perfect body in his embrace…everything was fine now. With a soft kiss to her hair, he shushed her soft cries, trying to soothe her as much as he could.
“I couldn’t get a flight,” she whimpered quietly. “I finally bribed Tony to take me in the chopper, but…I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“It’s all right,” Hank pulled her back to wipe the tears from her beautiful cheeks. “I’m quite fine.”
Trish’s palms flattened against his cheeks, her eyes darting over every wound and bruise. She catalogued them all, then met his blue gaze as though assuring herself that he would indeed live. She sat on the edge of his bed, unwilling to relinquish him for any reason.
“I love you,” she said plainly. Hank felt his heart stop in his chest.
Oh, he’d heard her admit to being in love with him before and she’d said those three cherished words numerous times in their long friendship. But something in her eyes and tone told him that this was different. He let her meaning wash over him, losing himself in the long-forgotten feel of being really and truly loved.
Hank reached up with his good arm, taking her chin between large blue fingers. “And I love you, my Patricia.”
“Oh, God. I’ll come back later.”
At Wolverine’s slightly teasing growl, Hank realized they were not alone. Trish giggled soundlessly, winking at Hank before she turned to face the others. Ororo waved slightly as Logan came to her side, taking her hand without any hint of embarrassment.
It fit, Hank thought while idly running his thumb over Trish’s knuckles. Something about that odd pair fit. He amended this wayward thought with the observation that he and Trish were slightly odd…and they fit to perfection.
“How’s my Kitten?” Ororo was asking when he came back to the here and now.
“What happened to Kitty?” Trish and Hank asked in eerie unison. Logan smirked.
“She’s conscious and Pete’s hovering,” Logan informed the other three mutants. “From what I got outta her, she was on the phone with the hospital about Hank here and went to phase into the kitchen so she could call us on the comm.. Jimmy happened to be in there and his mutation caught her mid-way down.”
“Bang,” Ororo finished with a sad shake of her head.
“Coupla stitches and they wanna keep her overnight, just to make sure she didn’t squash her melon.”
Trish turned back to Hank, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder toward Logan. “He’s just charming, isn’t he?”
“The light of our lives,” Beast quipped, glancing at the X-Man.
Logan’s answering smile was positively wicked.
“How long are you in for, Blue?” Trish asked quietly, fussing with his blankets.
“A few days,” he answered, tilting his head at her. “Will you be returning to Washington?”
Trish shook her head, biting her lip as she met Storm’s eyes across the room. The two women said something in that brief silence, any animosity seemingly gone.
“I’ll have Hank moved to the mansion,” Ororo said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Trish, Logan will take your things to the mansion, if you’d like to stay on with us.”
The raven beauty’s smile could have dimmed the sun. “I’d love to.”
“One big happy family,” Logan grunted, reaching for a cigar.
~**~
At just past dawn, Ororo found herself kneeling on the floor of her bathroom, her head resting on the cool tile of her tub. Stomach roiling unpleasantly, she fought the urge to turn it inside out for the fourth time.
In the week since Hank and Kitty’s dual accidents, things had somewhat settled at the school. Trish and Henry were still on the grounds, taking a much-needed break from their hectic lives in Washington. Ororo found herself even more captivated by Hank’s slightly neurotic and bubbly lover. Logan said on no uncertain terms that he liked the young woman.
She was an X-Man by default now.
“Damn,” Ororo whispered into the quiet, leaning over the toilet bowl again. “Please, my beloved child, stop it.”
Unfortunately, that child decided she needed to revisit her stomach contents again. Retching violently, she dimly wondered if this pregnancy would actually kill her. When she could get nothing more from the bottom of her digestive system, she floundered for the handle, flushing the contents down the toilet.
With her head back on the tile of her bathtub, she winced when the lights flickered on. Popping one eye open, she smiled weakly at the man standing in the doorway, shaking his head slightly.
“Were you even plannin’ on yellin’ for me? Or do you wanna do this alone?” Logan asked as he came into the room.
Ororo shrugged. He sighed, reaching for a clean washcloth and wetting it in the sink. He crouched beside her, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck. Oh, the cold cloth felt good against her heated cheeks as Logan lovingly stroked her face to clean it.
“Hold this,” he commanded gently while standing. Ororo obediently put the cloth to her forehead, holding it there.
Logan filled a glass with water and handed it to her. She refused it, feeling her nausea overtake her once more. The glass clinked against the counter as Logan set it down. Before she could order him out, he was crouched behind her, pulling her hair from her face while she retched again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered when she finished.
“Why?” She questioned, leaning over the bowl and wiping her mouth. “I think I literally asked for this.”
“Doesn’t mean I like seein’ ya sick, baby.”
She smiled, her heart tripping at his words. Reaching for his hand, she rested it over her flat womb. “Baby is right. Some things I must endure for this child and I will.”
Logan snorted, rubbing her tummy softly. “You’re not that high and mighty. A minute ago I know you were ready to curse at this little person.”
Ororo glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “Perhaps just a little.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Its ok, don’t mean you don’t love him or her, ya know?”
She could only smile weakly. “I know.”
“Think you can get back in bed?” Logan turned to meet her eyes, rubbing small circles over the place where his child rested peacefully.
Feeling slightly better, comforted by Logan’s attentions, she nodded. She insisted on brushing her teeth after he helped her stand. When she was finished, he took her hand, leading her back into the bedroom they shared. He tucked her in gently before sitting on the edge of their bed, watching her carefully.
“I’m all right,” she assured him, taking his hand in hers.
Logan grunted. “You don’t do any of this alone, hear? Throwin’ up, throwin’ shit at me, nothing alone. Got that, woman?”
Ororo felt her heart trip again. Goddess, he could do nothing halfway. When he fought, it was with everything. He loved the same way, without remorse or apology. She wondered if he even realized how rare such a thing was. The moment he had decided to be with her, to father her child, he had given her his already battered heart.
The brash and reckless Wolverine handed her everything without extracting her promise to protect it. She didn’t know how to react to something so innocent, so overwhelming. He didn’t even know, she mused. He had no idea how precious such faith was. Ororo vowed to never break that trust.
“I got it,” she answered him with a gentle roll of her eyes. She shifted to lie on her back, smoothing her hands over her belly.
Logan’s smile was soft, filled with a sort of paternal pride. He reached over to touch her stomach again before leaning down to kiss the cotton-covered flesh. A long inhale told her he was marking her scent again. She allowed it, knowing his pack mentality was simply reaffirming that their baby was thriving.
“Scent’s stronger,” he said gruffly sniffing at her flesh again.
“What does it smell like?” She asked curiously as he stretched out across her legs with his face at her belly.
“Hard to describe,” he muttered. “Like you: rain and earth. Like me: smoke and adamantium. And somethin’ else. Somethin’ pure, innocent.”
Ororo grinned as he kissed her belly softly. “I smell like you?”
He growled, his hands suddenly gripping her hip. “Fuck, yes.”
Something in his tone made heat pump into her system, made the wanton inside her flare to life. She could easily blame her unborn child for the surge of hormones, but something told the weather mistress that it had more to do with Logan than anything else.
“You marked me with your scent,” she dropped her tone to a husky whisper, shifting her legs under him.
Logan sniffed at the air again. “Uh-huh. And now you’ve got sex on yer scent. Why’s that?”
“I want you.”
“Good answer.”
He gathered the thin cloth of her nightgown in his hands, dragging it over her thighs while he whispered to the child snuggled deep inside of her.
“You go to sleep. It’s Dad’s time with Mommy.”
Ororo giggled softly at his words. He surprised her every day with his loving, familial manner. It was as though their decision and child created what they both dreamed about. Family that nothing could destroy.
Logan’s lips teased the tops of her thighs, throwing all thought out of Ororo’s mind. She arched slightly into his touch, wanting him in ways she had never imagined wanting anyone. He feathered kisses over her thighs, his hands parting her knees with gentle urging.
“Storm? Wolverine?”
The couple in bed groaned in unison at the call from the security panel by the door. Logan stood, snarling, and slammed his hand into the button to answer Piotr’s call.
“What?”
“We may have a problem,” the young Russian said gently. “Could you both meet me in the War Room?”
Logan glanced at Ororo, but she was already pulling on a pair of jeans beneath her nightgown.
“Yeah,” the feral mutant sighed. “We’ll be right there.”
~**~
Beast and Trish were waiting with Piotr by the time Logan and Ororo got into the lower levels of the mansion, looking sleepy and rumpled. Logan was scowling, having been enjoying the stolen moments with the mother of his child in their warm bed. He watched her carefully as she sat down, wondering if she would need to empty her stomach again.
Pregnancy wasn’t fair, he thought. The poor mothers did all the work while Dad just sat around feeling useless.
Dragging his wandering thoughts from his love to Piotr, he plopped into a chair and put bare feet on the table.
“What’s up?”
Piotr swallowed hard, looking exhausted from his graveyard shift. The mansion ran in week-long shifts for security purposes, each of them switching shifts after seven days. Piotr was three days into his graveyard week and he seemed to be feeling the pain from it.
“Cerebro was scanning and found something in Boston,” the young man’s deep rumble replied as he indicated to the holo-screen before them.
“What is it?” Storm asked, leaning forward.
“A mutant, I think,” Piotr responded. “She’s in distress, I think her powers just came to her.”
“She appears to be alone,” Beast said somewhat sadly.
“Yes,” Piotr agreed. “But something is chasing her. I could not get a read on what.”
“Hank, someone has to go get her,” Trish cut in quickly, her eyes on the abstract image of the girl Cerebro provided. “She looks terrified.”
“I agree,” Storm stood. “Logan, Peter, suit up. You’re coming with me.”
“Nope.” Logan reached up and tugged her until she fell back into her seat with an ungraceful plop. “Yer grounded.”
The assembled mutants stared at him in horror. Logan sighed inwardly, his gut reaction just made confessional necessary. He wasn’t letting Storm ride off into danger, not with his baby wrapped in her womb. She could call him a sexist bastard, but he wasn’t letting her into the Blackbird. Simple as that.
Her eyes met his and she glared at him. Logan raised a brow, his eyes darting to her flat belly.
“You’re not goin’.”
“I’m pregnant, not disabled,” she fired back.
“Don’t care. It’s too dangerous.”
He was dimly aware of several started gasps around the room at Ororo’s revelation. She kept his gaze for several moments before sighing. She was as afraid as he to lose their second child.
“I can run the op just so well as you can,” he told her gently.
“All right,” she relented with a curt nod. “Take Bobby, then. Retrieve the mutant and bring her here. Avoid violence if at all possible.”
“You got it, darlin’.” Logan stood with the others, turning to her and kissing her quickly.
“Be. Careful.” She demanded as Piotr woke Iceman.
“I will.” Logan touched her cheek gently, giving her a reassuring smile before he ducked out of the room to prepare for his mission.
Ororo watched him go, her hands unconsciously going to her stomach. It hurt to let him go without her. She trusted Piotr and Bobby to keep him safe and vice versa. But being grounded, while safer for her baby, kept her out of reach to help her lover. She sent up a quick prayer, sighing when she heard the jet’s engines start up.
“Ororo?”
Turning at Hank’s call, she raised a brow in question. Hank and Trish were grinning at her widely. “Yes?”
“A baby?” Trish questioned with a slightly girly squeal.
Having revealed her condition, Ororo felt her smile widen until she feared it would take over her entire face. She exhaled swiftly, nodded as her hands smoothed over her belly.
“Yes. Logan and I are having a baby.”
Hank wrapped her into a one-armed hug as Trish rubbed her belly, calling her “Budda”. Ororo, basking in the well-wishes, allowed them to steer her into the med-lab for a complete work up. Everything would be fine, she mentally assured herself. Logan would be fine.
~**~
“He’s so tiny,” Trish was saying over the breakfast table a few hours later.
She held the first photograph Ororo had received of her baby following Henry’s thorough examination. Trish had remained in the room, babbling a mile a minute in her excitement. Ororo was grateful for her presence, adoring the feminine thrill of chatting with a ‘girlfriend’ over something so wholly womanly as a pregnancy.
“He looks like a tadpole,” Trish continued to gush. “Aww, I’m so excited.”
“I couldn’t tell,” Ororo teased, taking the photo back and staring at it.
Trish scooped another segment of her grapefruit into her mouth, grinning around it. She reminded Ororo of Jean, in some ways. The woman was giddy and vibrant, which made her laughter contagious. No wonder her darling Hank had fallen for this woman. Ororo felt comfortable with her now, discussing baby plans with her over a coffee-free breakfast.
The other woman had sworn off the cherished drink so long as she was at the mansion, just so Ororo wouldn’t be tempted. The gesture touched Ororo deeply.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Trish asked, sipping her juice.
“I don’t care,” Ororo said honestly with a grin.
“You should have a girl!” The other woman insisted. “Patricia is a lovely name.”
They shared a quiet laugh at this. “If I have a boy, I will name him Charles, I think.”
“I coulda called that,” Trish waggled her eyebrows. “What’s it like? Being pregnant, I mean?”
She let her new friend reach over, touching her belly again. She wondered if Patricia yearned for a child of her own. The woman seemed fascinated by the life growing inside of her friend.
“Odd,” Ororo answered with a chuckle. “Aside from throwing up every morning, I can’t tell the difference physically.”
“Well, I can,” Trish put a hand up as though to cover Ororo’s breasts from her sight. “Those things are huge.”
Ororo laughed heartily, covering her ample cleavage. “You know, I hadn’t noticed that until this morning. They are large and in charge.”
“Jeeze, you’ll take someone’s eye out with those things.”
The women dissolved into uncontrollable laughter as Hank breezed into the room. He’d discarded his sling just that morning and the bruises on his face were nearly gone. He raised a bushy blue brow at the women, making them laugh even harder.
“What on earth…?”
“Girl…talk…” Trish gasped.
“Oh, dear,” Hank shook his head. “You two are terrible.”
Ororo wiped tears from her face, winking at Trish as the big, blue mutant bounced into the seat between them. “What is it, Henry?”
“Your lab results,” he handed her the file. “You, my dear, are in perfect health and so is your unborn child.”
She released the breath suddenly caught in her chest. “Oh. Good.”
“I want you on prenatal vitamins,” he continued. “Your exercise routine must be lightened, I mean it.”
“Hank,” Trish defended. “She’s not invalid. Lighten up.”
The blue doctor huffed slightly. “I only want what’s best for her baby. I would be just as bad if it were our child, Patricia.”
Ororo waggled her brows at the dumbstruck woman. “Get her pregnant, Blue! I want a belly-twin.”
Trish blushed brightly and Hank cleared his throat. Ororo wished Logan had been here for that particular exchange, it was priceless.
“Um, I don’t think so,” Trish said quietly, her cheeks flaming. “Not that I don’t want children.”
“You want them?” Hank asked quickly, turning to her.
Ororo sat back, holding her ultrasound photo and grinning. This was better than that silly soap opera channel Kitty was always watching.
“Well, yeah,” Trish answered her beloved with a furrowed brow. “A few, actually.”
“Oh,” Hank frowned.
“Why?” Trish teased. “Wanna go make one right now? I’m up for it if you are, Cookie Monster.”
Hank cleared his throat, darting his gaze to an immensely amused Ororo.
“Trish…”
Both women frowned at the expression on his face, the lilt to his voice. Ororo was pleased to see that Trish knew that tone as well. The raven-haired woman snatched Hank’s chin, angrily bringing his face to within an inch of hers.
“Yes, I want to have your children, Henry.” She spoke clearly, leaving no room for doubt. “Don’t think that your big, furry blue butt won’t have kids if I’m around. Cause you will, fur or not.”
“Ooh,” Ororo cut in with a fond smile. “Marry her, Hank. Before I do.”
The two women chuckled brightly, happy when Hank relaxed and threw his good arm around Trish. Perhaps, Ororo thought, there was hope for Beast yet.
~**~
“We have a problem.”
Trask looked up from the meticulous organization of his desk with something like annoyance. His assistant came highly recommended, but the boy couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map.
“What is it?”
“Storm,” the man said, coming closer. “She’s pregnant.”
Trask stood abruptly. “What?”
His aide sighed, handing Trask a thin manila folder. “Hank McCoy sent these results to a lab he works with. He had a full blood workup done on Ororo Munroe.”
Dark eyes filled with loathing as he scanned the paperwork copied from the Holden Medical Group. The mutant’s pregnancy was normal, roughly seven weeks along. He glared with hatred at the attached ultrasound photograph.
So, the girl was pregnant. He snorted at the man named as the father of the unborn child. Logan McCoy. Was the Secretary claiming that this man was his brother? Of all the ridiculous things…
“What do we do?” Trask’s aide asked with obvious concern. “This changes everything.”
“No,” Trask shook his head, moving to his filing cabinet. “It changes nothing.”
“She’s pregnant,” the other man said in surprise. “The public won’t hear of incarcerating a pregnant vigilante.”
“We won’t have to worry about the press,” Trask countered. “If you have everything in place.”
His aide nodded. “It’s done.”
“Then, stop worrying.” Trask slipped the folder into the full copy of Storm’s medical file. “Monitor her pregnancy. Did she take the bait?”
“No,” the man shook his head. “She sent the father, Iceman, and Colossus.”
“Damn it,” Trask sighed, rubbing his temple. “Ok, release the girl and abort. We’ll wait her out.”
“She’ll be more cautious now,” the aide opposed swiftly. “She had one miscarriage, she won’t risk another.”
“I know,” Trask slid behind his desk. “But she won’t be able to protect them all from the mansion. Move on Tilby. Now.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, the younger man strode purposely from the office. Trask shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.
“Stupid girl,” he said with a slow, sadistic smile. “You’re mine now. All mine.”
