Chapter 29: It's Alright, Baby

She stumbled into the kitchen during the early morning with a hand over her mouth, needing tea to calm her upset stomach.

She felt terrible – nope, she felt like shit. She didn't know if it was a bug, or maybe the late night snack she made yesterday was sitting wrong with her, but she'd spent the last hour locked away in the bathroom, emptying her stomach of bile and things she didn't even want to know.

She first looked around for a large pot – she didn't think she'd get sick again but didn't want to take any chances – before she prepared a teapot with five bags of Chamomile and put the kettle on, her eyes glazing over in a daze as she watched the blue flames of the gas stove. Her legs felt shaky so she grabbed the big pot and stumbled to the counter facing the window, sitting on a stool and wiping her sweaty forehead.

She stared out the window, not really seeing anything, as she waited. When the kettle whistled she jumped at the sound, and groaned before she propped herself up to stand. She brought the pot with her, stumbling to the island before she righted herself, grabbing an oven mitt before she poured the water into the teapot with a shaking hand, water pouring onto the counter before she set it down. She groaned again at the though of waiting for a couple of minutes as the tea steeped.

She felt woozy again and her knees gave out - she barely caught herself on the counter in time. She ended up with her hanging onto the counter with her arm as though for dear life, taking deep breaths, her eyes closed, her head still spinning.

"Christ… Zoey!" she heard as though someone was right next to her and shook she her head, wincing.

"Stop screaming."

She felt large furry hands pick her up as though she was a piece of paper and then she was floating before she was put on the stool by the window, the hands moving her arms to rest against the counter. She dropped her hand on her head and slowly opened her eyes to a worried Hank.

"Hey, kid," she muttered, taking in a deep breath. She then shook her head, gagging, the now recognizable feeling coming back. "The puke bucket!" she cried out, her eyes opening another fraction as she looked around. Hank raised an eyebrow.

"Puke bucket?"

"The pot… the big pot…"

He nodded and then rushed to the counter where she'd left it, bringing it back. She nodded and grasped it with both hands just in time as she bent over and stuck her face in, letting out more of what she thought was no longer in her stomach. It was the worst, her intermittent barfing adding to the silence. She gagged once or twice, knowing she was done for now but wanting to make sure.

"Huh," was all Hank said.

She groaned again, shaking her head.

"Please, don't. I-" she was interrupted by more barfing, and Hank let out a growl and walked away, letting her finish alone, even though she was still humiliated.

She coughed out and wiped her mouth, done for now.

"Do you think you can eat something?" he asked.

She groaned and shook her head.

"I came down here for the tea," she said, barely raising her arm to the teapot near the stove, closing her eyes again.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes, Hank beside her, holding a mug up to her lips. She smiled and leaned forward, drinking the tea and ignoring the soft burning feeling on her tongue.

She pulled back and let out a soft burp, which had her uncontrollably laughing.

"Okay, Zoey, up we go," Hank said, picking her up again, tucking her into his furry chest. He wasn't wearing a shirt like he used to.

"You're not wearing a shirt like you used to," she reiterated her thoughts.

Her body moved along with his soft laugh as he walked throughout the mansion, his fur tickling her skin with every step. He moved fluidly, as though carrying her was nothing to him – which it probably was.

"I'm not so conscious about the fur anymore," he said gladly.

Zoey blinked her eyes open, turning her head to look up at him.

"I knew Claire would be a good addition to the family," she muttered, her brain half there.

At that, Hank did falter in his step, but cleared his throat as he kept walking.

"You're more perceptive than I give you credit for, Zoey; even if you are half out of your mind with some sort of bug. You smell terrible."

She let out a laugh that turned into a cough as Hank opened a door and sat her down on the toilet of her bathroom – she noticed the bright purple bathmat in front of the sink.

"Zoey!" she heard another voice and she shook her head, groaning, knowing it was Charles.

"She's fine, it must be a bug or something," Hank said as Charles wheeled himself into the room. She blinked at him.

He reached forward to brush his fingers against her cheek before resting a palm on her forehead.

"Jesus, you're burning up!" he said, frowning as he pulled his hand back. "Should I get Dylan?" he asked, bringing a hand to his head, but Zoey shook her head.

"He can only do physical healing, bones, cuts, scrapes, nothing like a bug," she breathed, closing her eyes again and wiping her forehead. In her first session with the young boy he was adamant to talk about anything other than his family, so instead she had him test his powers, which had him talking.

"She needs a room temperature bath; I can make some tea-" Charles started but Hank interrupted.

"That's why she's here. I found her half standing in the kitchen, made her drink a mug of chamomile."

"Oh, okay…" Charles took in a deep breath, "okay."

Zoey smiled, her eyes still closed. They shot open when she heard the faucet of the bath being turned on, flowing water echoing throughout the room.

It wasn't Hank holding her upright anymore; she was on Charles lap, his hands tight around her.

She smiled weakly at him, staring into his eyes, her heart jumping and her body flushing with heat, but not the sick feeling type.

As though he knew, he smiled widely and reached forward, resting his forehead against hers.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Hank put the stopper in the tub and look around for bath soap, and she took the moment to lean in and brush her lips against Charles' before pulling back; his arms on her tightened as he let out a breath.

"What do you need?" he whispered.

She sighed, looking over at the tub again, knowing she might not be able to do it herself.

"I need a bath…" she started, and Charles nodded, smiling at the obvious observation.

"But you don't think you can do it yourself," he finished for her. She smiled, knowing that he wasn't invading her mind… he was just reading her, like he was so attuned to her already.

She softly nodded.

"Not to bathe me, I don't need a nurse, but just… company… if I need help…"

"Janie or Claire?" Hank asked, now standing near them, the bath slowly filling up, bubbles already on the surface of the water.

"Who's awake?"

Charles frowned for a second, his hand twitching on her back.

"Claire."

She nodded, and sighed.

"But if she's only up for it, I don't-" but she was cut off because before Charles could even bring his hand to his head, Claire was in the doorway, looking around at the scene, her eyes landing on Zoey before she gasped.

"Oh my god, Zoey!" she said, rushing forward, resting her hand on Zoey's forehead. "Oh wow you're burning up!"

Hank cleared his throat and Claire stopped and looked over, but then her eyes widened as she stood up straight, looking Hank up and down, a small grin forming on her lips.

Hank cleared his throat again but said nothing.

"We're making a bath for her, but we want you to stay. She's not feeling so well," Charles said, breaking the tension.

Claire blinked and looked down at Zoey, nodding.

"Oh, of course! Of course."

Hank turned off the faucet, the bathtub full.

"Time for you guys to go, Claire can take it from here," Zoey muttered.

There was a beat of silence before Claire clapped her hands and Zoey moaned at the sound as it echoed throughout the room.

"You heard the woman, out!" she said, reaching for Zoey as Charles wheeled backwards to help her stand up. Hank and Claire shared a gaze, and he nodded before he let Charles leave first before following, closing the door after them.

"I'm sorry," Zoey muttered as Claire led her to the tub.

"Stop it, you'd be doing the same for any of us," Claire said, brushing Zoey's hair back off her face.

She took off her pajama top and untied the strings to her sweats. She bent down and groaned as her head felt light. Without hesitation Claire tugged them down, leaving Zoey in her bra and panties.

"I think I can… I'm still…" Zoey muttered and Claire nodded, stepping away and turning her back.

Zoey was able to take off her underwear and bra and slip into the bath, the room temperature water cooling her down immediately. The layer of bubbles covered her so she didn't feel conscious as she muttered an "all clear".

Claire sat down cross legged in front of the tub, resting an elbow on the lip of the tub to hold her head in her hand.

"So, what the hell is going on?" she asked, and Zoey laughed but then coughed, holding her breath. No more vomit.

"I don't know. I woke up and felt like complete crap… I was in here earlier, puking my intestines out, before I made my way to the kitchen where Hank found me," she muttered, shaking her head.

She wanted to lay it on thick about how he'd helped her out, but had a feeling that him and Claire wouldn't need much help where there growing friendship was concerned. The fact that Claire had helped with Hank's consciousness about his body said enough; she'd never seen Hank without a shirt since she'd met him.

"Do you know what's wrong?" Claire asked, her hand moving to her forehead, shaking her head. "You're warm, but not fever warm..."

Zoey shrugged and cupped water in her hands before splashing her face.

"I've got no clue. But this bath is definitely helping. Thanks, for staying."

Claire tilted her head.

"Like I said, you'd be doing the same if it was any one of us."


"Do you know what it is?" Charles asked hurredly. His hands werre tapping on his legs, and he kept looking towards the closed bathroom door.

Hank shook his head.

"No. Probably just a bug, though. I can really only smell the sweat, that's why I offered a bath. Janie is diligent with her cooking, she never risks cooking or serving anything even on the expiration date, so it can't be food poisoning…"

"Or we'd have it too," Charles said, frowning.

Would he have to bring in a doctor? Or maybe he was overreacting. It must be just a bug, or a fever… He thought of the class schedule for the day… they'd have to postpone one or two subjects until she got better. Maybe Mr. Bellflower could substitute for English.

But if she wasn't better in the next day, he was calling a doctor.

"She'll be okay, Professor," Hank said.

He was drowning out the sounds of Zoey and Claire while talking to Charles, but the sound of water in the drain had his head turning.

He heard a whispering and turned back to Charles.

"They should be out soon."


The door swung open and Claire came out first.

"She can stand on her own now!" she said, smiling, stepping to the side. Zoey appeared in the doorway and the smell that reached Hank's senses had him taking a step back.

He knew this smell.

He remembered it on some of the wives of agents that sometimes visited the offices when he worked for the CIA. And they all shared the same smell, and the pattern was that they all were-

Zoey gasped, and he met her gaze. She was staring at him, her face pale. His surprise must've been too apparent…

"What?" Charles and Claire asked.

Zoey's eyes flittered and she groaned.

"Hank, can you uhm, help me back to my room? I think I'll sleep some more," she muttered.

"Of course," Hank said quickly, reaching forward to wrap an arm around her back, practically carrying her, holding his breath against the smell.

"But-" Charles started.

"I'm fine, Charles. You haven't had a session with Claire yet! Been so busy with looking for more students and teachers… but hey, now's a great time!" Zoey said hurriedly.

Charles froze, and looked up at Claire.

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Yes, an opportune moment," Hank said as they finally reached her door down the hall, opening and closing it quickly, leaving Claire and Charles alone in the hall.

"Okay, so she was right, we haven't really… whatever it is you help us with, but that was really weird, right?" Claire asked.

Charles nodded, frowning. He was so extremely tempted to read their minds, but he'd had Zoey's trust… and after… well, he wasn't going to jeopardize that. He only intruded her mind when she let him. Right now... he could feel that she wanted to be left alone.

"Do you know? What's wrong, I mean," Claire asked apprehensively.

"No. I… only-" he sighed, and just ended up shaking his head, "No, not anymore."

Claire smiled.

"Yeah, we all figured."


"Oh my god," Hank said, shaking his head, more so to try to get rid of the smell than anything. It wasn't a terrible smell, but it was definitely distracting.

"Holy… mother of god. Oh god, no not that… oh," Zoey said, breathing heavily in panic as she sat on her bed.

"Zoey, this is-"

"How did you know? Wait, you smelled something didn't you! That's why you wanted me to take a bath!"

"Yes, but it was more of just cooling your body temp... I thought it was the sweat-"

"But did you know?!" she asked loudly, making Hank jump. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Your smell… back when I was working for the CIA, sometimes wives would come with cookies or lemonade or some other type of general housewife stuff," he cleared his throat, and shook his head "but a few had the same smell. And with that smell, I knew they were-"

"Pregnant," Zoey whispered, her eyes wide as she brought her hands to her stomach.

Hank stayed silent.

"Holy fuck, I'm pregnant," she continued.

Hank pursed his lips, but then nodded.

"I'm not a doctor but… from experience... it would seem so, yes."


Again I would like to thank the readers who have stuck with me through this story. I'm going to be quickly updating the last few chapters, as X-Men Apocalypse has surpassed this story (fyi for newer readers this story takes place after First Class and before Days of Future Past).

Again, to those still reading this: thank you! And I'm sorry if I've disappointed you. My passion for this story wilted, however writing these past (and future) chapters have reinvigorated my writing muse, and I wish that I could write about these characters forever. But such is life, and things must come to an end.

Thank you. Please leave a review if you can - I still want constructive criticism on my writing - it only helps me grow.