Chapter Fifteen: Seized
It's not so easy loving me
It gets so complicated
All the things you gotta be
Everything's changing
But you're the truth
I'm amazed by all your patience
Everything I put you through
When I'm about to fall
Somehow you're always waiting with
Your open arms to catch me
You're gonna save me from myself
~Christina Aguilera
Ororo had greeted the delivery company with a warm smile. It was so exciting, she mused as they brought in box after box of the infant furniture she and Logan had purchased. All her life motherhood had seemed a distant wish, put off for a ‘someday’ she wasn’t sure would ever arrive.
During her relationship with Henry, she had more firmly grasped the concept. But they had been too young, too naïve, with the odds stacked against them. When the loving relationship fell apart, Ororo truly believed she was doomed to remain alone, apart from everyone else as they inevitably paired off. Children were a distant yearning, one kept at bay for as long as possible.
Logan’s entry into her private life and wounded heart made those yearnings an all out demand. She wanted a child. What’s more, she ached to carry his child. Their first loss had devastated the pair, but it had opened the door for them to admit their connection went beyond the physical.
She sent up a silent prayer to that lost child, tilting her head at his or her father. They had spent the better part of this lazy Monday in their rooms, enjoying the lull before Christmas. Logan was currently on his back, toolbox open beside him as he attempted to tighten the bolts for the baby’s crib.
How hard can it be? He’d said. Ororo chuckled silently, shaking her head at him.
Who would have thought that the fearsome Wolverine could be so undone by something so simple as baby furniture? He had spent all morning rearranging their bedroom to make room for the baby’s things, going so far as to clear out part of the closet so she could hang clothing when the time came.
Oh, but she loved this man. Reckless, brash, stupid idiot, she mused fondly. He went all to pieces when she presented him with tiny baby clothes she’d purchased the previous day. There was so much tenderness in this man, something she had never expected. It was as though he ached for someone to reach for him without pain or agenda. Ororo was more than happy to oblige, wanting to wrap him in a safe cocoon where nothing would harm him ever again.
“Goddamnit!” Logan swore violently as the metallic crib spring landed on his head with a muted thud.
Ororo clapped both hands over her mouth to hold back peals of laughter.
“This goddamn thing is fuckin’ ridiculous!” He pushed the spring up testily, coming out from under the bed.
“Do you need assistance, my darling?” She asked, unable to control the soft giggle that escaped as she spoke.
“Think this is funny, huh?” He glared at her, the look softened by his twitching lips.
“Oh, yes,” she replied primly from her perch on the bed. She curled one leg in front of her, resting her expanding belly on the bent limb. “Big, bad ass Wolverine losing to a baby’s bed.”
“You’re just full of it today.” Logan ran a hand through his hair, grabbing the beer he’d placed beside the crib.
She went back to folding their laundry, carefully separating his things from hers in neat piles on the duvet. It was a thing of intimacy, she thought while folding a pair of Logan’s boxers. To simply sit in a bedroom and fold laundry while preparing for their highly anticipated arrival was just short of bliss.
Ororo wondered how difficult it would be to convince him they needed a few more little ones of their own.
Watching her lover down half the contents of his beer can, she snapped a battered t-shirt in mid-air before expertly folding it and placing it on Logan’s pile. The baby shifted inside of her, an oddly comforting reminder that there were three people in the room.
“I’m gonna do this and I’m gonna do it alone,” he said in a low growl. “You make the baby, I’ll do the other shit.”
“Are those your orders?” She teased with a grin. “I will get right on that baby making.”
“Shush,” he said before diving back under the crib.
Ororo watched the hem of his tee slide up, admiring the wealth of muscle and flesh it exposed as her lover went back to fighting with the crib bolts. She still desired him, wanted with everything inside of her. Since that night so many months ago, when raging emotion turned into heated passion, she wanted Logan. Every time he left had broken her heart, though she knew he’d been consumed with wanderlust. She wondered where the impulse had gone now. Did he filter it into excitement over I impending fatherhood?
It was with some surprise that Ororo realized how long she’d been in love with this man.
“What do you think of Charles, if we have a boy?” She asked suddenly.
Logan’s ratchet never halted. “It’s ok. Could we call him Charlie?”
Ororo rolled her eyes. “I suppose. I will not have my son referred to as ‘Chuck’, however.”
“Nah,” he said quickly. “That was the Professor’s name.”
She smiled, reaching into the laundry basket again. “Charles Logan Munroe?”
“What? We’re givin’ the kid your last name?”
“Do you have one?” Ororo tossed the question off without a thought. The sound of Logan’s ratchet halting made her wince, inwardly kicking herself in the backside. “Logan, I’m sorry. That was…”
“No,” he said, the grating of his tools continuing. “It’s fine. You’re right. I don’t have a last name.”
“We could give you one,” she offered haltingly. “Charles…ah…he did…”
“What?” Her lover questioned, shifting so he could look at her from under the crib.
Ororo bit her lip before sighing. “Charles left paperwork behind. There were forms to legally change your surname to Xavier or whatever you wanted. He knew you would need certain things, a driver’s license, passport…”
“Huh,” Logan grunted, going back to his work. “I hadn’t thought about all that.”
Ororo frowned. “In sixteen years, you’ve never been pulled over.”
“Nope.”
“Stopped at customs?”
“I set off metal detectors.”
That, she found, was hysterical. Ororo clutched her belly, immediately overwhelmed by memories of Liberty Island. His callous one-clawed insult to Scott still made her laugh. Even that night, she’d barely contained her amusement, only to laugh about it with Jean once the dust had settled.
“What’s so funny?” Logan growled.
Ororo only slipped further into uncontrollable mirth. She had so many memories of Logan’s brief encounters with the X-Men before that fateful Alcatraz altercation. Jean’s distraction at seeing him again had always amused her, knowing that the brash Wolverine could get under any woman’s skin, no matter how committed.
Oh, how he’d driven Scott crazy. She recalled several instances where the cycloptic X-Men leader would rant and rave about him. Dangerous. Untrained. Liability. Oh, dear God in heaven, what would he say about this? Ororo pregnant with Logan’s child, madly, passionately in love with him.
He and Jean were laughing their asses off.
“That baby makin’ you addle-minded?”
Ororo threw a sock at him.
“I’m sorry. It made me think of Liberty Island,” she explained quickly.
Logan groaned. “Man, I wanted to rip Sabertooth in half when he touched you. Couldn’t fuckin’ figure out why.”
Shuddering at the memory of Victor Creed’s whisper that she owed him a scream, Ororo rolled her eyes.
“Because we are soul mates,” she said with a faux simper. “You wanted no one touching your foretold mate.”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Logan chuckled from beneath the crib.
“Well,” Ororo continued primly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I won you fair and square.”
“Think so, eh?”
“I love you, what else is there to think about.”
It was deliberate. For the last several days she had wondered how to drop this bomb on him. She did not want it belabored and discussed. He had said it first, taken that terrifying step without anything handed back to him. Ororo quickly tossed her heart to him, knowing without a doubt that he would tenderly catch it.
The ratchet had stopped again. Ororo went right on with her laundry.
“Yeah?” His voice was thick, as though he could not control the emotion that leaked into the gruff tone.
“Yes.” She answered somewhat flippantly. “I do love you, Logan.”
“Huh,” he grunted. “Bout damn time.”
This time, she threw a pillow at him.
~**~
It was dinnertime when Logan finished setting up the baby’s things. Ororo had not yet found a linen set she liked, so it was kept bare. Together, they put blankets and clothing into the dresser’s drawers. Ororo fussed with the placement of the changing table for several minutes. Logan dutifully moved each piece of furniture without complaint.
Finally, when everything was settled to the expectant mother’s satisfaction, they headed downstairs to check on the children they had ignored all day. Marie and Piotr were left in charge and when the expecting couple reached the main floor, something that smelled delicious came wafting from the kitchen.
“Food!” Ororo clapped happily, grinning at Logan.
“Get out of the way!” He shouted to Artie and Warren, whom were coming toward the kitchen from a classroom. “Pregnant woman scented food! Save yourselves!”
Ororo glared. Warren and Artie pulled expression of mock terror onto their faces before proceeding to trip over each other into the kitchen. Ororo swatted at Logan’s shoulder, trying to pry him away as he wrapped his arms around her, nibbling on her neck in some bastardized form of apology.
“What’s for dinner?” Logan asked as they entered the general mêlée of the kitchen.
“Beef or vegan chili,” Piotr offered from the stove. “Seasoned corn and fresh cornbread.”
“It smells delicious,” Ororo complimented, peering into one of the enormous pots on the industrial sized stove.
Marie served them both, ushering them toward the table. The underclassmen were always fed first, shuffled out of the kitchen so the elder students and X-Men could grab dinner. Logan helped Ororo settle at the table. She winked at several students staring at her belly.
Ororo dug into her meal as though she had not eaten in a year. It was somewhat terrifying to go from nausea at the very scent of food to being able to eat anything in a five-mile radius. Ororo shrugged off the negligible weight gain as beneficial for her unborn child.
She grinned at Warren and Bobby, whom were staring at her as though she’d spontaneously grown three heads.
“Yes?” She asked them with an arched brow.
Bobby spoke to Warren while staring at Ororo. “Remind me to never have sex again. Pregnant women are scary.”
That got him slapped on the back of the head by both Kitty and Marie, whom happened to be walking behind the boys.
“Be nice!” Marie admonished as Logan snorted with mirth into his bowl. Ororo felt a smile threaten to cover her mouth.
“Look at her!” Bobby defended. “She’s like wrestler trying to hit the next weight class!”
Ororo gave up, chuckling into her napkin. Logan had choked on a bite of his chili, so Ororo thumped him heartily on the back, shaking her head. The teenage girls at the school were, of course, fascinated by their Headmistress’ budding pregnancy. Each and every young man, however, looked at her as though the condition was contagious.
She might have been pregnant and therefore subject to frequent memory loss and dampened perception, but Ororo caught the tense glance Kitty shot Piotr. The heavy look they shared made the hair on the back of Ororo’s neck stand up.
What was that all about?
Creeping dread slipped into her spine, even as the children continued to argue over the merits of “eating for two”. Hank had been frantic on the phone the previous evening. He seemed certain that someone would make their move on her very soon. Logan had taken the “dead enemy” message with grit teeth. He couldn’t recall anyone at the moment, but had promised Hank to be on his guard.
One hand dropped to the swell of her abdomen. She did this often for comfort and in true fear. She wanted to believe Logan’s promise that nothing would happen to his family, but it doubt clouded her mind. Ororo knew he would do anything for them, yet how could he protect her from the government if they threw the book at her?
“Its ok,” Logan whispered, his mouth close to her ear. His hand grasped hers under the table, a warm comfort slipping through her at the contact. It was not enough, however, to completely drive the fear away.
Hormones could be killers. Ororo stood abruptly, tossing her chair backward. “How can you know that? It’s not ok! Someone is coming for me and our baby, Logan!”
Used to her strange outbursts now, Logan regarded her calmly. “Come on, ‘Ro. All this panic will upset the baby.”
“Logan, the baby is only five inches long. All this panic is upsetting the mommy!” She thumped her chest with her palm.
Kitty snorted.
Before she could continue her tirade, Henry appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. At his side, a tired looking Trish stood proudly. Ororo felt her jaw drop as all action in the kitchen completely ceased.
“Hello.”
“TRISH!”
Several shouts of glee rang off the walls. Logan and Hank clapped their hands over sensitive ears, groaning at the echoing glee. Ororo was the first to reach her friend, embracing her warmly. Trish rubbed her belly happily, allowing Warren and Bobby to help her to a nearby chair.
“You look so cute!” Trish cooed over Ororo’s swollen belly. “Like an M&M or something!”
Ororo threw her head back and laughed.
“I hate to break up the happy-happy-joy-joy here,” Trish said seriously. “But we’re here for a reason other than me rubbing the baby.”
Logan was immediately at Ororo’s side as Hank came closer. The younger students fell into silence, crowding around as though they could stave off anything bad all by themselves.
“What is it, Trish?” Ororo asked, squeezing her friend’s hand.
Hank exhaled slowly, meeting her eyes before cutting his gaze to Logan. “Trask has received his greatest wish. The National Guard is at the gates.”
Ororo had eyes for Logan alone, reading the fear and fury swirling in his eyes. She should have allowed him to handle the anti-mutant group yesterday. If she had, perhaps Trask would not have been able to move on her so easily. She opened herself up, gave him an easy target.
“They ain’t takin’ ya.” The sheer pain in Logan’s voice made her heart clench.
She went to him, enveloping her feral love into trembling arms. Drawing strength from his arms, Ororo clung to him, memorizing the feel of his embrace, the scent of his skin.
“It will be all right,” she whispered. “Artie, open the gates.”
Logan’s grip tightened. “No.”
“Yes,” she fought back, matching his tense grip with one of her own. “I cannot run. It is an admission of guilt.”
“I can’t lose ya,” he said quietly. “I just can’t, ‘Ro.”
“Trust Henry and our lawyer brigade,” Ororo countered, pulling away to meet his eyes. She kissed him softly, pouring every emotion she could into the intimate gesture. He kissed back with everything in him, making Ororo’s eyes sting with tears.
“Storm?” Artie said in a broken voice. “They’re at the door.”
Ororo kept her eyes on Logan’s when they parted. His eyes were filled with unshed tears, the absolute devastation in his gaze making her heart ache within her breast. Taking his hand, she placed it over her belly, where their child slept.
“I love you,” she said softly. “We love you.”
He inhaled shakily. “I love you, too.”
They parted slowly even as excited and frightened children rushed into the kitchen. The sight of soldiers no doubt terrified them given the attack long ago. She turned her back on Logan, trying to remain calm while keeping her mutation carefully tucked away.
Shushing the children, she gently handed them off to Kitty and Marie, leaving the kitchen with Hank, Trish, and Logan behind her. At the foyer, she caught sight of the soldiers banging on the mansion’s front door, many of them with M-16 rifles at the ready.
Ororo kept her back straight, her stomach thrust out proudly as she drew her infamous icy calm over her entire body. They would not see her break, nor sense her numbing fear. Logan reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly before pulling away at Henry’s soft urgings.
She hoped her blue friend could keep her love restrained.
Without so much as a pause, Ororo threw the mansion door open, facing the large, camouflage-covered National Guardsman.
“Ororo Munroe?”
~**~
Hank held Logan’s shoulder firmly, feeling the man shake violently under his fingers as Ororo was led to the driveway. She had refused handcuffs, saying she would prefer to not scar her charges any more than was necessary. After eliciting her promise that she would not try anything stupid, they agreed to leave the metal off of her skin.
“Steady.” Hank murmured to Logan as they watched events play out through the open door.
“They can’t do this,” Logan said shakily. “She…”
“I know,” Hank soothed as best he could. “But an altercation could harm the baby and no one wants that. These men are only following orders.”
“And they aren’t being asswads,” Trish offered quietly. “Look, that is even helping her.”
Hank watched as one of the Guardsmen shouldered his rifle, putting one hand on Ororo’s and the other at her back to help her inside. His touch was gentle and none of the soldiers looked too pleased at what was happening.
The leader, a man Hank knew as Colonel Goldstein, had remained at the door, watching as Ororo was read her rights and buckled into the armored car.
“Ambassador,” he called stiffly. “I’m sorry about this.”
“I know you are,” Hank replied, watching with his heart breaking as Logan allowed a tear to slip down his cheek. “But that doesn’t make it right.”
“I know,” Goldstein answered. “When I heard they were making the arrest, I volunteered for the assignment. At least I knew I would give her common courtesy.”
Logan’s gaze never left Ororo’s face, visible through the small car’s bulletproof window.
“Why’s that?” The feral practically snarled.
“I was at Alcatraz, sir.” Goldstein answered. “You pulled me away from a mutant ready to kill me. I have nothing but respect for the X-Men and this school.”
Touched, Hank shook the man’s hand. “Thank you.”
Logan merely nodded. Beast didn’t want to imagine what his friend was feeling now. In one fell swoop, they had taken his beloved ‘Ro as well as the child she carried within her. His family, his life gone in an instant. Rage must have been close to the surface, but the knowledge that a battle could inadvertently harm the baby stilled deadly hands.
“We’re taking her to a holding facility in New York City.” Goldstein continued. “My men will be guarding her, at least for now. I’ll make sure she’s treated properly.”
“Thanks,” Logan said gruffly, emotion evident in his tone.
“She is severely claustrophobic,” Hank cut in. “You cannot place her in a cell without windows.”
“I understand; it was in her file. Don’t worry, we’ve got a place set up for her.” Goldstein assured him.
“You are a prepared man.”
“I try. I’m really am sorry about this.”
“We know,” the broken man beside Hank replied.
The soldier turned away, barking orders as he made his way toward the first Hummer. Logan stood with Hank as the trucks roared to life. Ororo waved slightly, a small smile curving her lips as they rolled down the driveway.
Logan took a step, restrained by Hank’s firm grip.
“’Ro.”
Hank’s heart shattered. This was not right, not by any stretch of the imagination. He looked to Trish, immediately noting the fire in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let this go. The thought frightened him.
“Get the lawyers on the phone,” Logan said to Hank as his shoulders drooped. “We have to get her out of there.”
~**~
Kitty was sitting on her bed, weeping for all she was worth. She had tried to control herself, attempted to stop the mad rush of open mourning, but she couldn’t. Her baiting of Trask had brought this about. It was all her fault that soldiers packing military rifles had come to take their leader away.
She wrapped her arms about her middle, rocking against the edge of the bed with the force of her sobs. How could Storm ever forgive her? She’d seen Wolverine head to the Danger Room, his program of choice designed to vent all of his pent up rage and pain. Kitty had done this to the people she loved. There would be no redemption for her.
The bedroom door creaked open and a tall, dark Russian stepped inside. He moved to her after closing the door behind him, taking her shoulders in his hands.
“Katya?”
“Pete,” she whimpered brokenly. “I did this. It’s all my fault.”
“Shh,” he quieted her, pulling her trembling body toward him. “It will be all right. Everything will work out.”
“If I had just been patient, if I hadn’t jumped the gun…”
“Kathryn, stop this,” Piotr ordered. “You are doing no one any good.”
She dissolved into further sobs, shaking her body against Piotr’s and wetting his t-shirt with her tears. He weathered it silently, rocking her soothingly and whispering endearments in soft Russian. Kitty could barely think, barely breathe under the weight of her guilt.
When, at last, she pulled back from Piotr’s shoulder, her face ravaged by tears, she shook her head.
“It should be me,” she whispered brokenly. “They should have taken me away.”
“What would that solve?” Piotr questioned.
Kitty glared at him.
“Storm is strong, do not doubt her or Doctor McCoy and Wolverine. You do not give her enough credit.”
She bit her lip, looking away. With everything going on, she still couldn’t wrap her head around it. Piotr had been her rock through the worst of grief and guilt. Here he was now, defending her as though she deserved it.
“Upsetting yourself this way is not good for you.” He said gently. “Or our own child.”
Kitty instinctively dropped her hand to her stomach, tears slipping down stained cheeks all over again. Piotr covered her hand with his own, giving her a small smile. They had only found out two days ago, deciding to keep it under wraps as long as they could. Heavens knew what Logan and Ororo would do to them when they found out.
“If she had known,” her love continued. “She would have taken the fall for you anyway.”
A short, slight chuckle escaped Kitty’s lips. “Damn, you’re probably right.”
“We must be strong.” He said, ducking his head to catch her gaze. “And have faith. We will aid Storm in any way we can.”
“I feel so damn guilty,” Kitty admitted. “For betraying her and…being so damn glad they didn’t come for me.”
Piotr shushed her again, sliding onto the bed behind her so he could draw her exhausted body against his chest. Wrapped in his arms, she felt safe and sated, as though nothing in the world would dare touch them.
“No,” he replied in a whisper against her ear. “That is simply human, Katya.”
They stayed that way well into night, keeping the demons at bay until sunrise.
~**~
“I got that, Lew, but we can’t just walk away,” Trish snapped into her cellular phone. She paced the sunroom with barely restrained agitation, the look on Wolverine’s face haunting her.
“I feel fine,” she countered her producer. “Well, fine enough. They sent the National fucking Guard, Lew!”
“I understand your frustration, Trish, but we’re worried about you.” Lew attempted to calm her from Washington.
“Yeah, whatever,” Trish waved him off. Damn, if she hadn’t quit smoking five years ago, she’d go hunting for a cigarette. “This is a mondo story, Lew. I mean fucking huge. They arrest a pregnant mutant for trying to help humans? That’s got ‘lead story’ written all over it in pink, sparkly neon!”
Lew chuckled at her words. “I know that and trust me, I’ve got reporters salivating over it.”
“I took a fucking bullet for this story, I’m not letting someone else take it. Get me a damn camera crew. I know Rob’s still in the hospital, he’ll understand.”
Her producer sighed. “Trish, are you sure the adrenaline isn’t talking? You did watch them arrest your friend.”
“Its not an adrenaline high,” she shot back. “Its news. Good fucking news. I want it. I need it. I can sway public opinion so fast it’ll make that rat bastard’s head spin like a top.”
Silence. Trish held her breath. She was still shaking from the aftermath, rage and fear warring inside of her until it was hard to breathe. Her friend, her only female friend, drawn away like some goddamn terrorist. That wasn’t justice, it was vengeance. Come hell or high water, she wasn’t shutting up.
Trask could shoot her all he wanted; Trish drew the line at going after her friends. They’d tried to take Hank first. Big mistake. Huge. Now they arrested Storm on some bullshit charge.
Oh, the American public loved its heroes and villains. The eternal battle between good and evil, even given it’s many shades of gray. Trish would ensure they saw Storm as Christ reborn and Trask the devil himself.
“Ok,” Lew said finally. “I’m sending out Crew D. Don’t fuck this up, Tilby, and for the love of God, be careful!”
“I love you, Lew. Say hi to Ellen for me.” She snapped her cellular closed and breathed a sigh of relief.
“You must be out of your mind.”
Turning so sharply it made pain zing through her chest, Trish whirled on her furred lover. Hank stood in the archway leading from the sunroom to the main house, arms crossed over his chest.
From the look on his face, Trish was in for a very long night.
