Once again, much thanks to you all! Sorry for this being short and perhaps not as up to par, exams are approaching for me and I am overwhelmed with papers and internship stuff. I also graduate in May. But with that in mind, I love this story and I want to get a little something out, so here's to another chapter!

Chapter Three

SMACK!

Logan frowns around his mug of coffee as Laura, now what Hank had presumed to be eight or so months old, brings her chubby hands down on the pieces of dry cereal that had been designated as her breakfast. She smiles in delight, completely unaware of her father's displeasure as she relentlessly continues to crush the helpless circles of wheat.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Cheerios go into your mouth, kid," he exhales, watching as his daughter slides her palms across the table of her high chair, knocking the crushed pieces onto the floor. "Not, well, everywhere else…" She laughs, giving him a wide, nearly toothless grin that makes it hard to keep a stern expression. "You're lucky you're damn cute and my kid, otherwise this wouldn't normally slide."

The infant lets out a loud, happy squeal that causes her father to wince at the volume. Despite having weeks to learn and adjust to her mannerisms, her shrieks, whether done so in delight or anguish, still bounced sharply against his eardrums. Logan breathes, brows knitting as he tries to ride out the ringing in his head. Laura, oblivious to her father's pain, babbles to herself before her attention turns to a solo piece of cereal that sticks to the side of her wrist that, without a moment's hesitation, finds itself promptly shoved into her mouth.

"Well, it's quite lovely to see that someone is gleeful and alert this Monday morning."

Logan turns to see Charles wheeling himself into the room, the man's ever present smile still gracing his aged features. He rolls up to where Laura sits cheerfully in her highchair, smiling even wider when she "graciously" drops a handful of her breakfast onto his lap. Shaking his head, her father steps forward and lifts the baby from the seat, the infant letting out sounds of discontent. It's only when she leans forward in Logan's arms, reaching towards the professor does she settle down after the telepath takes her-after, of course, scooping up the bits of cereal across his pants and laying them back on the highchair tray.

"Sometimes I think she likes you more than me," he comments, somewhat joking as Laura chews on her hand, leaving trails of drool down her chin. "She seems happier to see you at least."

"Now you and I both know that isn't true in the least bit," Charles replies, remaining rather neutral when the infant smears her wet hand across his shirt. "You're her father, you mean the most to her. It'll become more apparent as she grows older and is able to comprehend things."

As if in response, Laura begins to grow restless in Charles's arms, now choosing to reach for her parent instead. Logan gives a lopsided grin, taking his daughter back from the professor only to frown slightly when her drool covered fingers grip his nose before patting against his mouth. He sighs, shaking his head as he adjusts her in such a way where she can't assault him with her saliva. He meets the telepath's gaze when her hand wraps around his ear, wincing slightly as her tiny nails dig into his skin-he really needed to clip those.

"I should probably go change her diaper," he says, adjusting Laura in his arms. "And put her into some actual clothes rather than letting her stay in her pajamas. Not that she cares either way, but Jean and Storm have made a big deal multiple times about me needing to dress her right. And by right, they mean having her wear at least five different outfits a day. Seems like a waste of laundry to me, except when she has a poop explosion...which happens a lot."

"In that case," Charles smiles. "I'll leave you to your plans. If you need me, I'll be with Hank. He is helping me with a few adjustments to Cerebro." When Logan raises an eyebrow, he adds. "I've noticed a minute problem when searching for other mutants," he explains. "It's probably nothing, just a small glitch in the system. It's nothing, of course, Hank can't repair. It'll be back up to speed soon enough."

Momentarily, a feeling of discomfort comes over Logan. He is not sure what's brought it on, but he holds Laura closer to his chest. There was something about the professor's words that did not settle within him. But he's pulled from his thoughts when the infant begins to whine, struggling in his grasp. He exhales, shaking his head in a means of snapping himself out of it. He bounces Laura slightly in his arms, giving her a thin smile when their eyes lock.

"Sorry, Bubs," he mumbles, walking with her out of the kitchen. "Just have a lot on my mind. I think I'm going stir-crazy or something. Be glad you're still a baby and don't have to deal with this shit-crap."

Trying to quit his constant use of foul language for the sake of Laura hadn't been an easy challenge. Originally he hadn't seen it as such a big deal, with words of course being just that-words. But even Charles had gotten after him about his swearing, claiming it was not in his daughter's best interest. Again, he hadn't seen it as such a big deal, but listening and obeying the "suggestions" of the other adults had proven to be the only way to get them off his back.

As he carries Laura down one of the corridors, he finds it already bustling with students. Logan curses in his mind as the many children squeeze past him, none seeming to care enough to apologize or mutter an "excuse me" as they trample over his toes, some elbowing him in the side. He's forced to hold his daughter higher in an attempt to keep her from being jostled. Sometimes he forgot actually how many mutants made the mansion their home. Soon, he thinks to himself, Charles will have no choice but to renovate in order to accommodate the ever growing slew of students.

Luck finds him in the form of an open door that goes ignored by the swarms of children. Sucking in a breath, he weaves his way towards the entrance, managing to slip inside before he has the chance to be involved in a mutant pileup. Laura gurgles as he leans against the room's wall, closing his eyes for a few seconds to compose himself. It's when he finally opens them, allowing his gaze to take in the room itself does he realize that he isn't alone.

The room itself, which he recognizes as one of the few unofficial "adult mutant" lounges, holds a single bookshelf and a couch that faces a small television. The occupants on the sofa, Bobby Drake and Rogue, are completely focused on the screen before them, they stares unwavering. By their feet, Kitty Pryde sits cross-legged, her attention too captured by whatever program they are watching. The trio's eyes are so glued to the screen that when the older mutant clears his throat, they all jump.

"Christ," Bobby breathes, glaring at Logan. "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Ever heard of watching your tone," he grunts in response, walking over to the three younger mutants. "What are you watching anyway? Hope you are cool with waiting until lunch to eat, the locusts have probably consumed everything in the dining hall by now."

"I'm not hungry," replies Kitty, her voice lacking its usual spunk. "I just...I don't understand…"

Logan's brows knit together in an expression that is not brought on by the fact that Laura's yanking his ear, but rather by how ominous the phasing mutant was acting. He'd never seen Kitty upset like this. If anything, the only time he ever remembered her being the slightest bit displeased was when Kurt Wagner consumed her box of chocolate truffles which, of course, he argued wasn't his fault seeing as there was no name on it. And even then, she wasn't truly upset-most likely because he was feeling nice and went to get her a new box himself. The damn school had him softening up far too much for his liking.

"What're you talking about," he finally asks, breaking the silence. "Don't understand what?"

It's at that moment that Rogue speaks for the first time, turning to look at Logan. For a moment, he is taken aback with how drawn her expression is. She appears to be sick, or about to be at least. Concern floods over the older mutant as he absentmindedly, once again, shifts his child in his arms. Something was wrong and whatever it was had shivers crawling down Logan's spine.

"That," she whispers, pointing at the television.

For the first time since he entered the room, Logan's eyes fix on the screen. Without even the slightest chance to prepare, his line of vision is bombarded with images of what appears to be a small building, now adorned with ropes of yellow caution tape. Around its perimeter, the flashing blue and red lights from the countless cop cars and ambulances is almost too bright for him to focus on what was happening.

The images are quickly replaced by a live-feed that features a newscasters whose face is so expressionless, it's hard to determine if she feels sympathy or indifferent towards the situation. She stands in front of the area of the certain crime, fingers gripping her microphone tightly.

"Breaking news in Massachusetts that is being called a hate crime," she pauses, inhaling. "Here, late last night at the Second Street Bookstore in Charleston, Boston, a book signing event was held for the critically acclaimed author and mutant rights activist, Sandra Perkins, in honor of her new book, "The Mute in Mutation". According to reports, an armed gunman entered the building and opened fire on the occupants before turning the weapon on himself. Seven people, including Perkins and three mutants, were killed. Fifteen people were hospitalized, five with possibly life threatening injuries. As the investigation continues, we will keep you updated."

The cut to commercials seemingly comes out of nowhere, breaking Logan from his statue-like state. He blinks, letting out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Tearing his gaze from the screen, he clearly sees the heavy blow the report had on the other three. Kitty's noticeably shaking, knees drawn up to her chin while Rogue turns into Bobby's chest making it difficult to see if she's crying. The only one who is completely at peace and oblivious is Laura, sucking on a piece of her father's shirt that her tiny fingers grasp onto.

Logan's mouth feels dry and his tongue heavy, and yet, he knows he should be the one to say something to break the uncomfortably long silence. But before he even has a chance, there's a click and over the intercom, Charles's voice sounds. On the surface, he's tone appears cheerful, so much so that if Logan didn't know the man so well, he wouldn't have been able to pick up the hidden strain that laces each word that passes through his lips.

"I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend so far. If all the teachers and other adults could convene in my office for an impromptu meeting, I would be most appreciative. Thank you all and continue to have a good day."

When the intercom shuts off, Logan feels a pit in his stomach. But he can identify why, no matter how hard he tries. He had been through wars and seen death more times than he was able to properly count. But after this, seeing a hate crime against mutants, while not unheard of, was causing his stomach to twists. He breathes through his nose, trying to clear his head. Of anyone, he could handle this. Handle anything.

Laura makes a sound from his arms, breaking him from this train of thought. He looks down at her. At her dark brown eyes. At the soft, mahogany hair that covers her head. To her tiny, drool covered lips that are formed into a large, happy smile.

And the pit grows bigger.

I hope you guys thought the chapter was decent! Sometimes I regret writing this in present tense as I stumble up sometimes so I apologize if there are places where I switch up tenses. Anyway, I skipped lunch to finish this because it's the only free time I have at the moment. If you could take a moment to leave a review and give me your thoughts, it would REALLY mean a lot because it shows me that people are actually reading this. Until next time! -Jen