Preparation and Pondering
Hank checked his watch absently, 5.43 am. Seventeen minutes till Little Blues six o'clock feed. The Doctor rose to his feet, zipping up his specially made suit, forgoing the knife. If it was The Sphinx he was going to kill her with his bare hands. He sighed and old memory of Isabelle surfaced –
"Such big hands – and don't say all the better for touching you with" She'd grinned up into his face, her fingers tickling his palm,
"Would I say such a thing?" He'd asked in mock innocence,
"Probably" She'd flattened her own hand out over his own,
"You've got tiny hands" He'd remarked, surprised he'd never noticed it before,
"Five inches from the heel of my hand to the tip of my middle finger" She replied absently, a sigh escaping her as she hugged him, "I'm so lucky to have you"
- The pain was still there, in his heart, but the memory made him smile. He sighed, closing the door behind him, heading towards the hanger…so he would have to pass his sons vacantroom. It had, naturally, been re-decorated, one of the students could manipulate paint in any way they wanted – naturally majoring in spray paint – and had kindly decked out the room in a soft, duck egg blue. It already seemed like so long ago. Ororo and Kurt had flown and bampfed around, hanging lights and curtains whilst Rogue and Bobby had taken care of soft toys, books and changing the crib. It was Logan who got handed the baby and, to everyone's surprise, he was pretty good at it. Hank smiled a little as he remembered catching the soft words Logan was murmuring to the baby –
"Can ya say 'bub'? Can ya saaay 'Remy LeBeau's a jerk?' Can ya say 'my daddy is a big blue moron who hits like a girl'?"
"Logan! You can't teach Little Blue to say that!" Rogue had cut in, trying vainly to hide a laugh behind a gloved hand. Over time they'd all come to call baby Xavier Little Blue, it seemed to fit him perfectly,
"Why not? Kids gotta learn the awful truth sometime" Logan had shrugged coolly,
"Bub" Baby Xavier burbled,
"See?" Logan grinned and pointed triumphantly. In the far corner, presiding over the painting of little duckies on the wall, Hank felt a swell of pride as he looked over at his son, Baby Xavier focused on him,
"I don't think 'bub' counts as a word Logan" Bobby said over his shoulder,
"Careful what ya say, kid" Logan growled a warning, "sure it's a word, right Little Blue?" Very solemnly Baby Xavier had looked at his Father,
"Bub"
- He sighed, reaching the edge of the doorway to the nursery. Why had his happiness been snatched away - again? Why did this sort of turmoil happen to the X-men, time and time again? He looked into the room, knowing, deep down, he did it because of some tiny secret hope that Little Blue would be looking up at him from the crib, eyes wide and expectant and un-judging as ever, that this had all been a bad dream and he could hold his son safe in his arms once more. With a sigh he took the two steps forward and leant on the doorframe before looking up and – he froze, someone was standing over the vacant crib. Someone in a cloak and cowl.