Chapter Twenty-Two: Trish
I thought you'd be out of my mind
And I'd finally found a way to learn to live without you
I thought it was just a matter of time
Till I had a hundred reasons not to think about you
But it's just not so
And after all this time, I still can't let go
~The Cult
The day Charlie Munroe turned two months old, Logan carried him into the packed Senate room, glancing about carefully. Ororo followed him, her head held high, a diaper bag over one shoulder. Charlie immediately began to squirm against his father’s hip, trying to look at everything at once.
Storm was summoned to Washington for a hearing that would decide her fate. For eight weeks, the Senate allowed her to recover from the kidnapping and forced childbirth. Logan figured Hank had something to do with the brief reprieve, even if their friend grew more reclusive as the weeks wore on.
Capitol Hill was jam packed with members of the government and the international press. Most believed that this hearing would decide the outcome of mutants everywhere. If Storm was found to be dangerous and incarcerated for crimes against humanity, the precedent would likely sweep the globe until hundreds or thousands of mutants were similarly imprisoned.
The clamor of a thousand languages echoed from the press section of the room, but Logan turned at the sound of Patricia’s voice. She stared into the camera filming her, the stance confrontational and her words clipped with anger. While Ororo and Logan enjoyed their new son, Trish rampaged through New York and Washington like a plague, gathering support for her friend.
Ororo took Logan’s free hand as the press turned on them. Cameras flashed, startling little Charlie, whom immediately began to wail. Logan shushed his son as well as he could, trying to protect young eyes from the torrent of light. Ororo moved between the baby and the cameras, asking the reporters politely to stop frightening her baby.
Many of them ignored her, so Logan snarled menacingly. Charlie burrowed into his father’s arms, as though knowing the sound brought protection. Ororo steered her boys toward the awaiting committee chairs, where Hank waited with Colonel Goldstein.
“Colonel.” Ororo grinned, stepping around Logan to embrace her former warden.
Goldstein still nursed wounds from her kidnapping and appeared in D.C. firmly on Storm’s side. He’d given Trish Tilby an exclusive on the abduction, relaying to a salivating public how Storm tried desperately to help her guards before sedated by the late Bolivar Trask.
It hurt his beloved when she learned Lucky, her prison Spades partner, died in the attack. He’d taken a bullet for his charge, trying to buy her an escape route. He never knew his sacrifice was in vain, but Storm and Goldstein ensured the American people “ as well as the young man’s family “ knew of his heroism.
“You’re ravishing,” Goldstein said as Logan took a seat behind the partition separating the viewers from the committee. “Motherhood agrees with you.”
“You flatter me,” Ororo replied, indicating to her son. “You’ve met Logan, of course, and this is Charles Lucas.”
Goldstein’s face reflected momentary pain as he easily shook Logan’s hand respectfully. “Lucas…after Lucky?”
“Yeah,” Logan answered, handing a still-whimpering Charlie to his mother. “Least we could do.”
“He’d be proud.”
The two men shared a quick, telling glance before Ororo leaned over to speak with McCoy. Beast held his hands out for Charlie, who went to his godfather with a squeal of delight. For some reason, Hank’s bestial appearance made Charlie happy as a hog in shit. The baby tugged on Hank’s blue fur, cooing madly at him.
“Someone’s a hero,” Goldstein teased, offering Ororo the seat between himself and Hank.
“He adores me, what can I say?” Hank tossed back, winking at Ororo. “And how is my favorite godson?”
Charlie giggled, batting at Hank’s nose with unabashed affection.
Logan took the diaper bag from Ororo, placing it between his feet with Charlie’s car seat carrier. He’d never known how much stuff a baby required. Their rooms back home were strewn with toys, tiny clothing, furniture and bottles. It seemed Charlie used more crap than most of the kids at Xavier’s…combined.
But his son, Logan mused while watching Beast play with the infant, lit up the world. Charlie’s easy going personality and hearty baby-laughter became the center of his world. The new parents often fought over whose turn it was to feed, bathe, or even diaper their little bundle of joy. Logan thought he might have to convince Ororo to have another, just to even up the playing field a little.
Senate members were watching the family carefully, as though mentally cataloging the antics for their files. Ororo spoke quietly with Goldstein, leaving Hank to the baby and Logan to check out the rest of the room.
It looked exactly as it had on TV, he thought. Long rows of seats winding down to the podiums and press benches. There were monitors and papers all over the desks for the government members, likely files and folders pertaining to Ororo’s case. Most of the seats were filled, their owners staring directly at Ororo and Logan.
Fear or loathing marked many of the faces, but Logan distinctly noticed that most watched with detachment or small, understanding smiles. Perhaps Ororo was right. Bringing Charlie just proved that she was human. Not only a mutant and fighter, but also a mother, a lover, a friend. Though he hated thinking of his son as a tool, it might be little Charlie’s presence that set his mother free.
“Here comes the Speaker of the House,” Hank said quickly, kissing Charlie’s dark cheek. “All right, son, wish Mother luck and behave for Papa.”
Ororo quickly took her baby, snuggling him close and whispering in flawless Swahili. Baby clung to mother, as though he sensed something important was about to happen. But when Logan reached for him, Charlie went to his father without so much as a whimper.
“We’ll be fine,” Logan whispered to Ororo, earning a small smile. “Everything’s gonna be fine, darlin’.”
“I love you,” she mouthed silently as the Speaker was announced.
“We love you, too. Don’t we, boy?”
She turned back to the proceedings, folding her hands demurely in her lap while the Senate rose in respect before sitting. Logan reached into the diaper bag, pulling out a set of plastic rings for Charlie to gnaw on. The baby lounged quietly in his lap, paying no heed to what the adults were doing around him.
The Speaker came forward, standing at the podium. He was a tall man of Irish decent, with trimmed blonde hair and a slender build tucked into a sedate suit. Howard Rothschild voted as a Conservative, but often leaned in favor of mutants. Logan watched the man with narrowed eyes as he shuffled the papers of his speech and cleared his throat.
“Today the United States Government is in the spotlight. Well, more accurately, the hot seat.” His voice, trained for public speaking, rang throughout the suddenly silent hearing room. “The issue of mutants and public safety, I fear, is far from resolved. But, we’re not here to debate on the status of mutants around the country or the world. Instead, there is one life, one mutant at stake here.”
He paused, casting a blue-eyed glance throughout the room. “The mutant known as Storm, now publicly revealed as Ororo Munroe, was incarcerated without trial by a former member of the US government. His actions, while not directly sanctioned by the Senate or the House, were allowed. His excuse, at the time, was for the protection of the country. Bolivar Trask, whom died two months ago, made decisions that nearly ended a life.”
Murmurs echoed around the room, but Rothschild went on. “After the altercation at Alcatraz Island three years ago, mutants lost what little ground they claimed in the governments around the world. But we must look closer at this incident. Storm and her team, codenamed the X-Men after their late mentor, came into the battle not to destroy humanity, but to save it.
Hundreds of American soldiers and innocent scientists were saved that fateful night, even if Munroe herself loathed the very thought of a “mutant cure”. She did what she thought was right, leading her students into battle on the side of humanity, of freedom. All this is public knowledge, which I feel was forgotten in the wake of Secretary Trask’s mindless crusade.”
“Aw, hell,” Logan whispered to his son. “Looks like Mama converted a heathen. Go, Storm, eh?”
The baby ignored him.
“This committee was convened to discuss the fate of Ororo Munroe. The United Nations closed its case on her just after a terrible abduction that led to forced childbirth. Munroe and her newborn son nearly died at the hands of Secretary Trask’s partner, William Stryker. We have come to a point where a vote must be decided. Has Ororo Munroe truly acted criminally or do we, as the American people, owe her and her X-Men an apology?”
The Speaker looked around the room again, his eyes aflame with conviction. Logan exhaled sharply, trying to will the constriction in his chest to ease. He didn’t want to hear them condemn Ororo, or take her away from both the man she loved and the son she fought for.
Once the Speaker moved aside, another congressman took his place. This one, Logan knew, rallied support favoring the incarceration of Storm and the study of her infant son.
“What the Speaker has failed to mention is the power this mutant possesses.” Gregory Smithe announced, his tone scathing. “Storm wields the power to manipulate the weather. If she has a temper tantrum, she could destroy the world with a domino effect of raging storms. Do we allow such power to run unchecked throughout the world?
Added to her powers, the man who fathered her illegitimate child killed dozens of men in his foolhardy rescue of Storm. Killed dozens. Why isn’t he on trial as well? Mutants may share our world, but the governments must ban together to protect the innocent from their powers and agendas.”
Logan felt his blood rise and Charlie dropped his toy. The baby began to squirm, then cry. He reached for his mother as Ororo turned involuntarily at the sound. She stood, not caring that the entire world was watching her, and pulled her baby into her arms.
A bell sounded. The Speaker addressed a congresswoman in the fourth row.
“Mary Wight from Oregon now has the floor.”
The slim, middle-aged woman stood. “I would like to hear from the accused herself. I believe, in this country, the defendant always has the right to speak on his or her own behalf.”
Logan caught the barely perceptible grin Rothschild flashed her.
“Of course.” Rothschild immediately turned to Storm, whom was bouncing little Charlie expertly. “Miss Munroe, would you like to speak?”
“Yes, I would.”
Though Logan reached for the baby, Ororo merely stepped around the wooden table at which she’d been sitting. She carried their son up the steep steps to the podium, causing a stir when she refused to release her infant.
“My name is Ororo Munroe. I am a mutant known as Storm.” She paused, her tone ringing through the tomb-silent room. Logan inwardly applauded his love. Only that woman could turn a vocal tone to ice. “I am a teacher. A leader. A friend. And yes, a mother. My son may be considered illegitimate, but I fail to see how that is anyone’s business, save my own.”
“I adore that woman,” Hank whispered to Goldstein. “I really do.”
“For three years, my integrity, moral code, and lifestyle have been called into question. I never asked to be a mutant, but I have learned to live with it.” She paused again. “Three years ago, just before the mutant known as Magneto destroyed the Golden gate bridge and waged war on humanity, I lost my family. My adoptive father and brother were killed by the Phoenix. Though I knew that powerful creature, that troubled soul, I knew no other had the power to destroy her.
I gave the order for one of my X-Men to stop her. We did. We fought beside men like Colonel Goldstein, not because we believed we mutants are a sickness to be cured, but because my father always told me that freedom was absolute. I have no regrets in my life. I did what I thought was right and I cherish the lives we saved at Alcatraz Island as surely as I mourn the ones we lost. On both sides.”
Her eyes swept the room one, final time. “So decide as you must. Condemn me for being born, for fighting for freedom. Release me so that my son has a mother and my school a leader. Either way, you will not change who I am and I will never “ not for one moment “ believe that I deserved to be incarcerated, kidnapped, and nearly killed.”
With that, she stepped down, holding her son carefully on her hip. Rothschild moved to steady her as she descended the wooden steps. Ororo moved immediately to her seat, dropping Logan a trembling smile.
“You did good, darlin’.” He replied, winking at her.
“Let us hope it was enough.”
Rothschild took to podium again. “I believe we are ready to vote.”
Logan leaned forward, taking Ororo’s free hand as they both stared straight ahead.
“All in favor of Ororo Munroe’s release?”
They voted quickly, pressing buttons on the electronic screens. Even the press went silent, cameras clicked almost absently.
“All opposed?”
Again the buttons were mashed. Rothschild excused himself for a moment, looking over the findings recorded by a government computer. He returned to the podium seconds later. Ororo’s grip on Logan’s hand tightened.
“Ororo Munroe, all charges are hereby dropped and your record expunged.” He continued while the press clamored and voices rose. “You have the apology of this government and our best wishes for yourself, and your son. This committee is now adjourned.”
Congressmen and women began to gather their things. The press surged forward, trying to get a sound byte for the evening news, comments from the Senate speakers. Many of them merely ignored the jittery press, but several stopped to give curt comments.
Ororo stood, holding her son to her breast and faced Logan. He abandoned the diaper bag and carrier seat, coming around the partition to embrace his family. They barely heard Goldstein’s congratulations, ignored Hank’s booming tone as he answered press questions. She was shaking in his arms, trembling as Logan had never felt before.
“It’s over,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “It’s all over, darlin’. You’re comin’ home with me and Charlie.”
“Thank the Goddess,” she whimpered, her one-armed hold tightening. “I was afraid for a moment. I thought they would surely take me again.”
“Not a chance, baby.” Logan pulled back to swiftly kiss her lips. “You’re not goin’ anywhere but home.”
Ororo sniffled, trying to control her emotions before the skies darkened. Logan cupped her cheeks, even as Charlie tried to wiggle between them.
“Miss Munroe! Logan!”
Trish was calling for them, admitted through security by Hank’s quick nod. Storm turned, smiling at her friend, whom glowed with victory as surely as they did.
“Can I just have a quick moment?” Tilby questioned. “How do you feel?”
“Exhausted,” Ororo said, laughing slightly. “This entire venture has been emotionally and physically trying. And I don’t think the fight for mutant rights is going to be easier, but I am relieved to be going home with my family today.”
“Perfect.” Trish said, motioning for the camera crew to stop filming and take her microphone. “Now, hand over that baby and no one gets hurt.”
Ororo laughed, really and truly. She shifted, handing a wiggling Charlie to the bouncing Trish. The raven-haired reported cooed at the baby, snuggling him close while reporters turned to capture the moment.
“Trish?” Hank interjected quietly. “Your reputation as neutral is going to be in tatters.”
“I don’t care,” she replied, looking at him over her shoulder. “I’ve been offered a chance to head a new magazine, anyway. In Depth with Patricia Tilby. Bias won’t really matter, as it’s largely editorialized. I start next month.”
Logan watched them both, resisting the urge to knock their heads together. Ororo glanced at her lover, shaking her head sadly. Two months and still the air between them was arctic. Hank never even spoke Trish’s name anymore, even on the rare occasions she turned up at the mansion to see Ororo and Charlie.
“Congratulations,” Hank murmured before moving away.
“Comin’ over tonight, Trish?” Logan asked shrewdly, earning him an elbow-jab from Ororo. “Think we’ll be celebratin’.”
She grinned, flashing pearly white teeth and dimples. “More time with my godson? I’m there. I can swing by around six, if that’s all right?”
“That sounds good.” Ororo agreed, taking the baby and kissing her friend’s cheek. “Come on, boys. I want to go home.”
~**~
Several hours later, Hank McCoy found himself sitting on Ororo’s bed while she skillfully changed Charlie’s soiled diaper. She hummed under her breath, entertaining the baby while she cleaned and powered. Watching her being a mother, Hank felt that now-familiar twist to his heart.
God, he missed Trish. Just seeing her briefly at the hearing brought back the pain of separation. How many times had he resisted the urge to show up at her New York apartment and beg her to take him back? Lying awake in the stillness of night, he remembered the feel of her curled into his arms, the gentle sighs as she slept peacefully. The memory of her in his old Washington apartment, lying innocently on his bed with that raven hair spilled over a white pillow, burned and twisted until the grief was alive inside him.
Ororo and Logan both tried to talk about Patricia, to understand what he was going through. Hank resisted them at every turn, changing the subject or leaving the room. Falling into the routine at Xavier’s, he taught, minded children, and lived while his heart openly bled.
Did she have to be so beautiful? Why couldn’t they have just understood one another that awful night in the sunroom? For all of the Beast’s famed intellect, he’d twice let a woman walk out on him, even when his heart begged, pleaded for her to turn around.
Looking back to Ororo as she grinned down at her son, Hank exhaled a shaky breath. Little Charlie, so loved and celebrated, squirmed while he was diapered and redressed. Ororo giggled soundlessly at his antics, screwing her face into something silly that made her son howl with mirth.
He had always known Ororo would make an exceptional mother. With the Wolverine so resolutely at her side, she reveled in the life they created. Though her son was born into fear and madness, Ororo and Logan fought to rear him in calm, in freedom. Hank yearned for that kind of peace.
Oh, he’d loved Ororo in his youth; there was no mistaking that. But he ached for Trish with every fiber of his being. No, he did not love that fiery reporter more, merely differently.
“Here.” Ororo dropped Charlie into her friend’s hands, coming around to sit beside him. “It’s hard to stay gloomy when that boy’s in a good mood.”
Charlie squealed with delight, batting at Hank’s nose again. Softened by his previous thoughts and the youthful innocence, he inhaled Charlie’s soothing scent before turning to look at his mother.
Ororo crossed her legs at the knees, looking soft and maternal in her worn jeans and soft t-shirt bearing the logo “Sexy Mama”. She’d let her hair grow long, sweeping it into a ponytail while she cleaned up her messy son.
“He’s precious, Ororo.” Hank whispered. Charlie attempted to stand, so Beast caught him under the arms and lifted so he could practice.
“I know it,” she replied, reaching over to tickle her son. “But he’s not why you followed me up here from where Logan is being male.”
Outside, while summer bloomed all around, Logan manned the grill in preparation for a celebration of Ororo’s release. Hank was usually comfortable with Logan now, but had needed the solace of Storm’s counsel. He hated to bring up the dark spot in his world, and tried to resist the urge to spill his proverbial guts to her.
“You can tell me anything, Henry.” Ororo urged quietly. “Whatever is said stays between you, me, and Charlie. As he can’t talk yet, I’m fairly sure your secrets are safe with him.”
Hank looked to the baby, whom grinned and drooled charmingly. The pain stabbed at him again, taking his breath away.
“I hurt. God, I hurt.”
The words were out before he made the decision to reveal them. Tears prickled the back of his eyes and he sniffled in an attempt to control them.
“I know, darling.” Ororo replied softly. “In fact, I think I used those exact words to Jean after I stormed “ pardon the pun “ out of your office that day.”
Hank choked, turning to her sharply. “If I made you feel this, I deserve to be shot, burned, and buried alive.”
“Shh.” She quieted him, scooping the baby out of his arms. Settling Charlie on his belly so he could practice crawling, Ororo came back up to embrace her friend. “Oh, Hank. It wasn’t right for us. We know that now. But the hurt…the hurt just proves it’s real.”
Undone, Hank returned the embrace, fighting the tears he knew were already rolling down his cheeks. “I forced the two women ever to posses my heart to walk away. For you and I, it was the best. But now…”
“Its not, Henry.” Ororo pulled back, tilted his face up with gentle fingertips. “Hank, you’re stupid in love with Trish. She’s the other half of you, just as Logan is for me. Why aren’t you fighting for her?”
“The things I said…”
“Don’t matter.” She took a deep breath, kissed his cheek. “Every time she calls me, there’s a pause and she asks after you. Damn it, Hank, there’s still a chance.”
He didn’t want to believe her, to have the hope bloom in his chest until it shoved the pain away. Hank was ever one to plan. With Ororo, their relationship consisted of steps. Flirtation. Dating. Intimacy. Engagement. Marriage. Children.
Trish made all plans fly out the window. He wanted to be impulsive, to listen to the heart so bruised in his chest. His head ruled with Ororo and insecurity ended that blushing love before it could see fruition. In retrospect, yes, it had been for the best. Logan completed Ororo in a way Hank could never match.
And, by God, Trish made Henry whole, filling up places he’d never known were empty.
“What do I do, Ororo?” He asked in a whisper. “How can I fix this?”
“Stop thinking.” Another kiss to his opposite cheek. “Follow that heart, Henry. We saw, thanks to Stryker, that our lives can change in a single moment. If you were to die today, would you be able to leave her behind this way? Or would you want her to know that you love her more than anything in the world?”
His shoulders straightened. “By God, you’re right. When did you get so wise?”
Ororo smirked, reaching down to take her baby again. Charlie yawned sleepily, cuddling into his mother’s arms with the serenity of security. “I had two wonderful teachers.”
She stood, reaching for his hand. “Enough sadness. Wipe those tears away and come have a beer with me.”
Lighter, Hank took her hand in his, allowing her to pull him up. Together, they left her room as Charlie fell asleep on his mother’s shoulder. Hank steeled himself for the inevitable. When next he saw Patricia, he would tell her everything he felt.
He only hoped the door wouldn’t slam behind her this time.
~**~
A beer in hand, Trish stood beside Logan while he manned the grill in the balmy summer dusk. He’d greeted her warmly, inviting her outside and shoving the Molson into her hand while the children engaged in a late volleyball game.
Kitty Pryde-soon-to-be-Rasputin watched the game, howling with laughter every time one of her friends did something silly. Angel and Marie, on opposing teams, tossed smoldering looks to one another as they attempted to win their “friendly” tussle.
“So, when did that happen?” Trish asked Logan, nodding toward Angel and Rogue.
“Right after we got back from rescuin’ ‘Ro.” He shook his head at them. “He’s good for her.”
“They’re adorable,” Trish agreed, smiling at Kitty. “And your Kitten’s starting to show. She looks happy.”
“Baby’s doin’ great,” Logan replied cautiously. “Pete’s like a hen, always on her ass to slow down. She phased the other day and I swear to Christ, he busted a blood vessel.”
Trish laughed, clutching her belly as it rolled over her. Logan gave her a brief grin, tipping his Stetson back with the neck of his bottle. She adored the Wolverine, Trish thought as she hopped up onto the wooden railing of the deck. Her shorts shifted to barely cover her backside, and she swung her flipflops from the edge of her toes.
The mansion felt so much like home now, with Ororo back and Charlie born. Trish loved being here, steeping in the warm, mismatched family that Xavier left in his wake. Had she been able to withstand being around Hank, she might not ever leave.
Thinking his name brought the familiar pain back. She thought, by now, he’d be out of her system. What a foolish idea, Trish mentally chided. Loving Hank for nearly half her life left him under her skin in ways no other could boast. Her lover, her friend abruptly left her life, leaving her alone and cold. Sleep became more and more elusive, as she frequently reached out for the furry form she knew wouldn’t be there.
“Gonna have to talk to him, pumpkin,” Logan interrupted her melancholy thoughts. “Not talkin’ ain’t doin’ either of you any good.”
“Am I that transparent?” She questioned, blushing a little.
“Yeah.” Her companion agreed before taking a long draw of his Molson.
Chewing over this for a moment, letting the pain reflect in her tone, Trish toyed with her beer bottle. “Ever feel like your heart’s breaking over and over again? Like you’ll bleed to death from it, but nothing cauterizes the wound?”
Logan was silent for a beat, then glanced at her from beneath his Stetson. “Yeah. After ‘Ro miscarried. Not the same, I know, but that pain don’t just leave. It grows and grows until it’s the only thing left. I tried runnin’ from it. All that got me was more pain.”
Touched by his honesty, by the love echoing in the feral’s words, Trish wiped at her wet cheeks. “I love him, Logan.”
“I know.” He reached over to sympathetically pat her knee. “But whinin’, cryin’ don’t fix much.”
“Yeah? What will?” Partly angry, partly injured, she glared at him.
“Beggin’.” Dark eyes pinned her, making Trish shift uncomfortably. “Go in that house, tell him you love you, throw yourself on his mercy.”
“What if…” She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “What if he just turns away? Won’t that make the hurt worse?”
Logan regarded her quietly for a moment. “What he don’t? You willin’ to live with that?”
Before she could respond, Ororo came through the back door, holding a slumbering baby on her shoulder. Trish tried to collect herself, her heart and womb aching at the sight. God, it felt like just yesterday that Storm’s pregnancy was revealed and Trish told Hank, on no uncertain terms, that she wanted his children.
God, she still did. She wanted to cuddle up in his arms when life got rough, to laugh with him with things went right. It was worse, she thought, to know what those things felt like. Years of unrequited love were hard, but losing what she had found in Hank was more than she could bear.
“There’s my woman,” Logan was saying as Ororo came down the steps. “And one tired baby.”
“Hank’s getting the portable crib for him.” The white-haired mutant replied, catching sight of Trish. Her smile widened. “Hello, there. I see Logan took care of you.”
“He’s awesome. Where can I get one?” Trish smiled back, but even she knew it was half-hearted.
“I’m one of a kind, darlin’. But if ‘Ro don’t mind sharin’…” He winked, left the innuendo hanging on the balmy breeze.
Storm immediately scowled. “If my hands were free, I’d hit you.”
“Aww, now, darlin’, don’t be that way.” He was grinning, the love swelled between them until Trish could almost touch it.
She wanted that. The knowledge that someone loved her, to love back just as fiercely. Damn it. Logan was right. She couldn’t just let it go, never knowing if Hank still loved her.
Trish hopped down from the rail. “Where’s Hank?”
Startled, Ororo turned to her, away from the fire in Logan’s eyes. “The nursery. I sent him back up when Charlie…”
But Trish had already deposited her beer on the grill and bolted inside. The house was eerily silent with everyone out on the Great Lawn, enjoying their freedom. Navigating the halls with the confidence of a frequent visitor, Trish took the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding madly in her chest.
What would she say? How to say it? God, she prayed when she reached Ororo and Logan’s open bedroom door, don’t let it be too late.
“Hank?”
“Yes?”
She peered curiously into the room, finding her beloved Beast hauling the heavy portable crib out of Storm’s closet. The bedroom was large, filled with baby things. But a leather X-men uniform was visible just inside the closet. A feminine bathrobe tossed over the vanity chair, a pair of masculine jeans waiting patiently on the edge of the bed.
A family lived here, Trish thought as she grasped the doorknob to steady herself. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was her bedroom, with Hank’s things thrown about with hers. She could wish that the baby who slept in this room was theirs, that they’d celebrated their love by bringing a new life into the world.
Blue and enormous, the object of her search stood amid the familial clutter, blinking at her dazedly. Her heart clenched again, the pain of being face to face with the man that stole her heart coming back in full force.
“Is something wrong?” The innocent question held a hitch in the tone. That hitch gave Trish hope.
“Yes.” She answered breathlessly. “Yes, there’s something very wrong.”
He froze. Did he see the pain in her eyes, the tears already rolling down her cheeks? Trish inhaled deeply, trying to control her emotions when she knew it was futile. Damn, but Hank was still gorgeous, still wonderful. What kind of fool walked out on him?
“Trish?”
His question snapped her back to reality. “My whole life is wrong, Hank. It’s not hard to see why. I’ve thought about you every day. I’ve wanted to beg, to plead, until you take me back.”
Hank startled, but he stayed in place, staring at her. “Trish…”
“I love you, Hank, damn it.” She nearly shouted, tears splashing down her front. “I can’t take this anymore. I want you back and if I have to bring down the moon and stars to prove it, I will.”
“Patricia,” Hank swallowed audibly. “What are you saying?”
She stepped into the room, releasing her hold on the doorknob. “I was stubborn and prideful and I won’t ever regret taking that story. I needed to do it, not for Storm or mutants, but for me. What I do regret is letting work come between us. I love you, Henry. I don’t want to be without you any more.”
The portable crib dropped to the carpeted floor with a bang. She flinched from the resonating sound, but remained where she stood.
Hank blinked at her, tilting his head as though she were speaking a language he wasn’t familiar with. She distinctly saw the tears flood his eyes, magnifying that clear blue. Trish took a step toward him, hope blossoming until it overtook the fear.
“Tell me you still love me, and I’m yours for the rest of my life.” Trish exhaled sharply. “But if you don’t, I’ll go away and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
Hank sobbed, the sound caught in his throat. “Trish, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I don’t want this pain between us. I want you back and I have since the moment you walked out the door. I love you. I love you.”
She flew across the room, trusting him to catch her when she leapt into his arms. All the pain of months apart drifted away the instant his arms came around her. They were both crying, not bothering to care if that made them both weak.
“I’m sorry,” Trish whispered, kissing his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Blue. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything.”
“Shh,” Hank quieted her, setting her down to cup her face with massive hands. “There is nothing to forgive. We were both stubborn. God, I’ve missed you.”
“Stay with me,” she wept quietly. “Don’t let go, Blue.”
“Never.”
His lips came to hers, soft and yielding. She wrapped him in her arms, heart beating madly with exultation. He still loved her, still wanted her. Trish vowed to spend the rest of her life earning that love.
“Marry me.”
The demand startled her when they parted, but Hank’s eyes refused to break contact.
“Are you serious?” Trish whispered, wondering if her heart would just give out from the mad tattoo it was playing against her breast.
“Yes.” Hank leaned down to kiss her again, speaking against her lips. “Marry me, Patricia.”
Giddy, thrilled, loved, she nipped at his bottom lip. “How’s next Sunday suit you?”
He hauled her back into his arms, grinning wildly.
“Perfect. Just perfect.”
