Chapter Nine: Mixed Blessings
And if I shed a tear
I won't cage it
I won't fear love
And if I feel a rage
I won't deny it
I won't fear love
~Sarah McLachlan
Ororo sat beside Logan on the sitting room sofa, their hands loosely entwined as she leaned her head on his shoulder. They’d been lounging this way since curfew, waiting for the news to come on. In a month, they had seen little of Hank, so this evening’s phone call that they might find the eleven o’clock news interesting sent eyebrows up among the X-Men.
Marie, Bobby, Piotr, and Kitty relaxed in various positions through the room, none of them particularly shocked to find Storm and Wolverine locked in such an intimate embrace. Several weeks had passed since Logan had informed Ororo of his decision to remain at the school. Most of the others assumed she was the major reason behind his resolution.
Squeezing his fingers gently, Ororo shifted in his arms to get more comfortable. Logan absently returned the affectionate gesture, kissing her hair gently as they watched the major stories for the news wind down.
Though the new couple was almost distracted by that heady, intoxicating first flush of new romance, they kept their decision to get pregnant intentionally from the others. With Storm’s status at leader of the X-Men, they had agreed to not send anyone into panic just yet. Nothing would change until the weather witch was actually with child, in any event.
“Oh! There she is!” Kitty said suddenly, drawing Storm out of her thoughts as the young girl turned the volume up.
“And live at the United Nations building in New York we have Investigative Reporter Patricia Tilby.”
The assembled mutants sat up quickly, eagerly paying attention. Ororo and Logan shifted against one another, their entwined fingers gripping more tightly as they leaned toward the television.
Patricia appeared on the screen, looking as beautiful and professional as ever. She stood before the night-lit U.N. building without a microphone, a stack of papers clutched in her hand.
“Thank you, Lindsay,” Trish said in her ringing voice. “Tonight this building was the setting for a conference that could change the lives of mutants around the world. This conference was held in the utmost secrecy, even from respected members of the press. Reasons for this were to keep down so called public bias. Only this evening, after the conference had taken place, was the press allowed inside.”
The clip changed to several hours before. Dozens of clamoring journalists were crowded into a small conference room where a podium was erected. Ororo sucked in a surprised breath when she noted that Secretary Trask stood before the crowd, ready to answer questions.
Trish’s hand was impatient as she held it up. Trask pointed to her. “Miss Tilby?”
“Secretary,” she said with only a hint of sarcasm. “Rumors have said that this conference today was to dictate international policy for mutants committing crimes against humanity, can you comment on that?”
“I can say,” Trask began. “That yes, there was some discussion today about crimes against humanity. Powerful mutant traitors like Magneto were brought up.”
“What about the X-Men?” Trish pressed. “Are they to be condemned as traitors as well?”
“I cannot comment on that at this time.” Trask took his eyes from the raven-haired woman, obviously through talking to her.
Trish seemed incapable of letting that one slide. “Secretary Trask! Do you mean to say that the X-Men are going to be tried for crimes against humanity by the United Nations, even though their “crimes” were committed while trying to protect humans from Magneto and Phoenix?”
“Damn,” Logan whispered to Ororo. “I thought I was the one with claws.”
She smiled softly, glancing at him. “She is tenacious, our Trish.”
When she looked back to the screen, Ororo frowned. The look Trask had given Trish was filled with loathing and hatred. She feared for Hank’s beloved reporter, making a mental note to contact him in the morning. Trish might need that extra protection after all.
“I can not and will not comment on any mutant group at this time.”
“Why not? What are you so afraid of saying?” Trish was standing now. “What are your plans for the X-Men, whom you’ve recently condemned as terrorists?”
“The X-Men will be dealt with,” Trask said ominously. “And that is all I can say about that. Roy?”
Trish’s face came back on screen before the U. N. building, split with a cheerful blonde in the anchor room.
“Patricia, what could the Secretary have meant by that last comment?” Lindsay asked carefully.
“We can’t be sure at this time, but I can guarantee that we will be looking into it,” Trish replied quickly. “Other items on today’s agenda, which was only released minutes ago, were the directives to try mutant criminals under the same laws as any governing body would a homo sapien as well as government assistance programs to help with mutant children cast out of their homes.”
“Those are interesting topics,” said the anchorwoman.
“Of course, we’ll know more tomorrow morning at the press conference with Dr. Henry McCoy, Ambassador for Mutant Relations.”
“We’ll be looking forward to your report.”
As the news switched tactics again, Ororo hit the mute button on the remote and glanced around at her students. They were watching her cautiously, making her smile slightly at the worry in their eyes.
“Calm down,” she ordered gently. “We are fine for now.”
“But,” Bobby cut in. “If they decide to try us…”
“They won’t try you,” Ororo shook her head. “You are all too young. If they come after anyone, it will be me.”
She heard Logan snarl softly beside her and she squeezed his hand to comfort him. “No one’s taking Storm. So stop worryin’ about it.”
The younger mutants seemed to take him at his word. Ororo shooed them off to bed, promising that they would all talk more in the morning. Each mutant “ and Marie “ bid the elder couple a fond good night as they filed out, leaving Wolverine alone with Storm.
She met his gaze when they were alone, swallowing hard. “Logan.”
“Don’t.”
“I have to,” she sighed. “I have already met with our lawyers, everything will be handed to you and Henry should I be arrested.”
Logan tugged on her hand, pulling her completely into his arms. She melted against him, smiling into the crook of his neck where she buried her face.
“They ain’t takin’ you.” He swore quietly. “I won’t let them.”
“You must concentrate on the children,” she countered him, no matter how warm and fuzzy his proclamation made her inside. “They will need you.”
“Yeah? Well, I need you, so shut up.” She felt him grin against her hair.
Ororo turned in his arms, letting him stretch his legs over the sofa as they snuggled together in the quiet night. Logan’s hands smoothed over her flat belly, resting comfortably as they sat together in peaceful silence.
“We’ll get through this,” she said confidently after a moment.
He didn’t reply, instead tightening his arms around her gently. They stayed that way for some time, until Ororo prodded him into standing so they could fall into their bed together. Everything would seem better in the morning.
~**~
There it was again.
A strange sound had plagued Logan’s sleep for the last several nights. Though he’d been back at the mansion nearly two months now, it still felt odd to think of never leaving this place for extended periods again.
He didn’t really want to, especially with his plans for their resident weather witch. He sat up in bed beside her, careful to not disturb her rest. They’d been…practicing the skill of baby-making for several hours, leaving her with time only to cat nap before her day got started all over again.
He blamed her. She was addicting as heroin and twice as sweet. Logan leaned over to kiss her cheek, cherishing the way she scooted closer, and the smile that spread across her lips. It was easy to get used to this. Having her beside him every morning, curling into that wonderfully soft body every night. What kind of man wouldn’t want that?
Again with that damn noise.
Sighing, Logan shook his head, sticking a finger into his ear and wiggling it as though trying to drill the strange sound out. He slipped out of bed, not caring if he was naked as they day he was born, in search of his cigar.
Ororo whimpered in her sleep, reaching out across the pillow for him. He waited until she frowned, half-sitting up at finding him gone.
“I’m right here, darlin’,” he whispered gently. “Go back to sleep.”
She smiled softly and lay back against the pillows at the sound of his voice. Logan smiled slightly, shaking his head. That woman was tactile to a fault. She needed constant contact, affirmation that he was actually there. He hoped it was just her nature and not fear that one morning she would awake to find herself alone. He’d made his decision; he wasn’t leaving her.
Shaking his head as the sound reverberated in his ears again, Logan stepped out onto the balcony and lit his cigar. Stretching in the cool night air, he contemplated waking Ororo just to drown that odd sound out. It had only begun two days ago, but it crept up on him every time the room was silent.
A dull, quick throb, it was the only way he could explain it. Ororo was as confused as he about it and even suggested he get his ears checked out. Perhaps something had gone wrong with his senses. Logan shrugged it off. It was likely a cracked pipe or something else just as mundane.
Shivering at the cold breeze, Logan ducked back inside to grab his sweats and matching sweatshirt. It was right about then that he realized something…strange.
Outside, the noise that had plagued his thoughts was muted. Inside, it was much louder. Having something to track, Logan abandoned his clothing and followed the sound. He narrowly avoided colliding with a slender table that was home to Ororo’s collection of Scooby-Doo memorabilia. The odd thump was coming from the bed.
Concentrating everything he had on following that strange noise, Logan closed his eyes and held his breath. He sank onto the soft bed, leaning and leaning until his ear came in contact with something soft. ’Ro.
“Holy shit.”
Not caring if he woke her now, Logan’s eyes snapped open and he yanked the covers back. He pressed his ear to her bare stomach, closing his eyes again as she blinked sleepily.
“Logan?”
“Shh. Shh.” He quieted her, listening for that strange noise again.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Logan did quick mental calculations while she watched him lay on her belly. It was possible, only slightly. Were they that lucky? Had Fate given them another chance so readily?
“’Ro?” He whispered in the dark, emotion choking his throat.
“Yes?” She replied breathily.
“I can hear him,” he continued, reveling in the steady sound of what he now knew was a heartbeat. “Darlin’, I can hear him.”
“What?” His love asked, reaching down to touch his cheek. “What are you saying?”
“There’s someone in here,” Logan explained as he opened his eyes. Ororo was looking at him with something like hope and fear written clearly across her face.
“Really?” She asked carefully, a wide smile breaking out over her beautiful lips.
Logan put his hand over her heart and quickly marked the steady tattoo of a tiny heart against hers. “That’s what it sounds like. It’s so fast.”
Ororo shook her head, that smile lighting up the dead of night. “By the Goddess. Logan…”
He could feel something swell in his chest, mixing with hope and instantaneous love that erupted inside of him with the realization that he’d created life with this woman again. Their child slept peacefully beneath her heart, ensconced in warmth and this time, knowing they loved him.
From the look in her lovely eyes, Ororo wanted to run around screaming with joy, but she contained it. Her free hand clutched his as he tapped their child’s heartbeat onto her chest, the other buried in his hair. Logan kissed his belly a dozen times, enjoying the way her belly bounced as she laughed quietly.
They stayed that way until dawn, neither ready to leave the bubble they’d erected around their family to face the real world. They could be late, just this once.
~**~
Bolivar Trask paused the videotape, a scowl covering his face. All of his hard work, the long, tedious hours were meticulously being destroyed. First at his offices and now in the eye of the public. It was now to be borne. Something had to be done about this.
“She’s becoming a liability,” he told the U.N. council before him. “Her relationship with Ambassador McCoy is also troubling.”
One of the aging men around the table sighed. “We cannot risk an outright attack on either of them.”
“You’re going to allow United Nations meetings and secrets to become pillow talk? Easy fodder for further attack?” Trask pushed, glancing at them all.
Another of the unusual assembly spoke, his rasping voice grating on Trask’s building migraine.
“Her reports have not revealed any state secrets, it is all public knowledge.”
“And all true,” chimed in the first speaker. “She has not lied.”
Trask sighed, watching the girl’s face on the paused tape. “Her scrutiny is making it difficult for my project to continue.”
“Then, perhaps, it is time to do away with it,” said the second speaker. “Your project has frequently come up short as of late.”
“We are too far along to simply scrap it all now,” Trask said reasonably. “If Miss Tilby would simply stop…”
“And how should we manage that? Hmm?” Another spoke up from the shadows. “If we have her killed, she becomes a martyr.”
“Discredit her,” Trask offered. “Reveal to the public that she is warming the bed of an Ambassador, a mutant ambassador at that. They will rally against her.”
“She is only a reporter, why spend valuable time and resources silencing one woman?”
“Her voice is too well known in pro-mutant circles,” Trask explained. “If she is not silenced, she will influence policy by involving the public. None of us wants that.”
The first speaker smirked. “You strike at the core of democracy.”
Trask shrugged nonchalantly. “The public doesn’t know what’s best for them. I do. The project must be allowed to continue unhindered. For that, I need Tilby out of my way.”
Silence. As the men surrounding him conferred with one another through looks and simple gestures, Trask waited impatiently. He had so little time and so very much to complete. Should a single thing go wrong, it would undo decades of careful planning of both himself and his predecessor.
“Discredit her,” the spokesman said at last. “But cause her no physical harm.”
“As for McCoy, leave him to us. He is swiftly outliving his usefulness.”
Trask bowed slightly as his aide readied their things. “Thank you all.”
He swept from the room, his aide trailing behind him quickly. He could hear the others begin to speak again, but ignored anything they might say.
“Shut her up,” he ordered his aide. “If words won’t do it, use a damn bullet. Just get that woman off of my tail.”
“Yes, sir.”
Trask grinned as they left the building, easing into the government-issued car. That blue mutie and his bitch would never know what hit them. And with them out of the way, he could take the X-Men apart one by one.
Starting with the one they called Storm.
~**~
Steam rolled through the bathroom, making a light sheen of sweat break out all over Ororo’s skin. She paid it no mind as she stared down at her flat belly, touching the flesh that housed something so miraculous as life itself.
Logan had only told her the night before, when he pinpointed the source of the strange noise that had driven him insane for two days. It had been a heartbeat all along, a third, tiny heartbeat that lived deep inside of her.
Fear fought to overtake her, but Ororo was having none of that. At least, not today. As her hands flattened over the dark flesh of her belly, she allowed a soft smile to curve her lips. She should have known it would take no time at all for Logan to fashion life inside of her again. Less than four months after the terrible miscarriage, she carried life within her a second time.
When she stepped into the shower, she wondered what their child would look like. She envisioned a strong, dark haired and caramel-skinned son with the piercing eyes of his father. Or perhaps a light eyed, white haired daughter, the spitting image of Ororo’s mother with a temper unmatched in the world.
Her daydreaming was silly, perhaps even a little childish, but she was unwilling to relinquish the giddy, girly feeling that came with a realized pregnancy.
Ororo carried Logan’s child and that made her world suddenly brighter.
“Good God,” she heard the familiar voice suddenly cut through the silent bathroom. “Are you turnin’ this place into a steam room?”
“Oh, be quiet,” Ororo said from beneath the suds of her shampoo. “It feels good.”
A blast of cold air told her he had stepped inside with her and she finished rinsing her hair quickly. When her eyes opened, she saw Logan standing in her shower, a goofy half-grin on his impossibly handsome face.
“What are you smirking at?” She questioned, wiping the water from her eyes.
“Nothin’,” he answered a little too quickly before ducking under the spray.
She shifted to allow him more room in the shower, leaning back to admire his masculine physique. There was something about the way water slid down the muscled curve of his backside that made her want to bite it. Hard.
“Whoa,” Logan said suddenly, sampling the air quickly. “What the hell are you thinking about?”
Before she could reply to his teasing words, the sound of a child’s scream echoed through the mansion.
Logan was out of the shower before Ororo could even process his movement. She followed just as quickly, grabbing a bathrobe to throw over her wet body as Logan tugged on a pair of sweats.
They flew together down the hall, following that terrible screaming as various other students and X-Men flooded the halls. Logan was out in front, leading the team as though he’d been born to. She trusted his instincts, which led them into the kitchen.
“Jesus!”
Logan scrambled backward, shaking violently. Ororo skidded to a stop. “Logan?”
“Jimmy.” He ground out, his body already reacting viciously to the poisonous metal lacing his bones.
Ororo turned back toward the kitchen, shoving her way through the assembled mutants. She caught sight of a dark haired young girl lying on the floor, blood pooling around her head as Jimmy tried in vain to wake her.
“She won’t wake up.”
“KITTY!”
“Piotr, get back!” Ororo snapped in her most commanding voice.
She rushed forward, ordering someone “ anyone “ to call 911. Jimmy whimpered as Ororo gently turned her young friend, finding a nasty gash on her forehead surrounded by what looked to be an impact bruise.
“She was coming from upstairs,” Jimmy explained. “I guess my mutation hit her mid-way down. She fell like a stone. Took half the floor with her.”
“It’s all right,” Ororo said gently, touching the boy’s shoulder, sparing the damaged ceiling barely a glance. “Go with Piotr. Go on.”
Though his face was ravaged by worry and grief, Piotr moved forward and collected Jimmy, trying to soothe the young man. Ororo cautioned the boys to stay out of the sitting room, where Logan’s body was likely trying to heal it’s way around the metal in his body.
Ororo felt Kitty shift in her arms, a low moan coming from her bruised lips.
“Kitty? It’s all right. Help is on the way.”
“N-No,” she whimpered. “B-Beast.”
“What about Beast?” Ororo questioned, looking about as though she would find him nearby.
“Phone.” With that, the girl promptly lost consciousness again.
Artie, whom had grabbed the telephone to call for the ambulance, appeared at Piotr’s side a beat later, his face ashen.
“Storm? It’s the hospital; they’re sending an ambulance, but Dr. McCoy…he’s in the ER himself. Something about a car accident.”
Ororo’s world spun. She gripped Kitty more tightly and glanced around the room. The only thing she could think to do was scream.
“LOGAN! Get the Jeep!”
