NIGHT 10:

The lights were too bright, shining in my eyes, and I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. I looked over at Scott, who was also smiling broadly, and waving towards the sound of applause, hoots and cheers. The studio audience looked mostly excited to be there. Some were holding up "X-Men" signs, there were a few audience members clearly dressed as Marvel Girl or Cyclops. There was a group of teens holding up a "Phoenix" sign and I waved at them from up on the stage set and they excitedly waved back.

The music played to signify that we were back from the commercial break. We were in the typical setup. I was sitting a chair, Scott sitting by my side, and the late night talk show host was sitting at a desk angled slightly towards us. Everything was in bright, bawdy colors. All the sounds were too loud, the enthusiasm was too forced, the smiles fake.

"Welcome back to the late show! And a warm welcome to you two! Wow, Cyclops and Marvel Girl. So glad to have you on. Aren't we lucky here tonight? Real live superheroes! Let's hear it for them, huh? Huh?" he asked, standing up and clapping. The audience roared with applause, before settling down to a low murmur as I smiled so hard my eyes teared up.

"So how's it going tonight?" The host, a somewhat well-known celebrity, asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

I ran my tongue over my teeth. They'd been coated with vasoline by the makeup department, along with about a pound of stage makeup. I felt the skin on my face slowly suffocating behind the primer, cover-up, foundation, and powder. I'd done a pageant or two as a young teenager, and I still remembered how good taking that pancake makeup off at the end felt. This time I thought I'd probably need industrial strength oven cleaner to get my old face back. I had so much hairspray in my hair, I was pretty sure that if a bomb went off there still wouldn't be a strand out of place. There was a reason I'd never been interested in going into show business. But the Krakoa public relations manager had other ideas, and so here I was. Here we were. The happy couple, foundation of Krakoa, apparently, showing the world that true love still exists. Right.

"Doing pretty great tonight actually," Scott said in a relaxed but friendly manner, putting an arm around me. I took his hand in mine and smiled out at the audience.

"Now I gotta ask," the host said with an animated gesture. "With you two here, who's defending Krakoa? Is it Magneto? Beast?"

"Oh, we've always got a great team over there working on keeping the peace," Scott said in that oh-so-reassuring, boyscout-leader tone.

"Good to know. Audience take note! If you scheduled an invasion, take the reminder off your apple watch. They've got a whole crew in place."

A few giggles from the audience.

"Now I've got a serious question for you two," the host added, turning towards us. "It's gotta be hard. Doing superhero work. Representing a whole new nation. Being married, with kids. Tell me, how do you make it work?"

Scott and I looked at each other knowingly and smiled towards the host, then back out at the audience. I patted Scott on the leg.

"I'll let Jean handle that one," Scott said with a short laugh, looking to me. I adjusted the microphone clipped to the front of my uniform.

"Yes, well. It's not easy," I said. "It's not, I'll be the first to admit it. Sure I love him, but I'm not even sure I LIKE him all time, if you know what I mean?"

There were some screams of approval from the audience, probably the bored housewives in mediocre marriages. I did realize I should be the last to judge. Try to empathize, they'd said before I went on. Show the side of you that's 'every woman,' to the audience, the PR manager had hopefully told me, while blotting incessantly at my face with a beauty blender until I used some subtle TK to push her out of my personal space before it came to blows.

"But at the end of the day, you know, it's all about hard work, trust and commitment," I said enthusiastically, looking lovingly into Scott's eyes, visible through his red-tinted sunglasses. He'd forgone the full visor, as we'd been advised this was a low-risk situation and 64% of the audience aged 18-40 identified a visor as 'threatening.' He was also wearing a blue button up shirt, as apparently the demographic found that 'soothing,' and 'trustworthy.' I wondered what portion of the demographic identified this all as 'pointless bullshit.'

"Absolutely," Scott said, taking my hand in his. Applause signs blinked and the audience cheered from their bleachers. "But you know what? She's worth it. There's nobody in the world like my wife," he finished proudly, kissing my hand and there was an audible 'awww' from the audience.

"So sweet. So sweet, I love it," the host said, wiping away an imaginary tear. "Now I have to ask. Okay, this might seem a little crazy, or a little risque, but there has a been a rumor going around. Yes. I see that look on your faces. Now, according to this rumor, you two are not just a couple but a... okay, I have to look this word up again- a throuple? Throuple? Three people."

The host produced from behind his desk comic issue with a cheesecake image of me, bursting forth from a cake with Scott on one side, Logan on other. I wanted to hide my face in my hands, but instead I just smiled, pretended to look surprised. He held the comic book up and the camera panned onto it as the audience buzzed nervously.

There was laughter and a scandalous 'ooooohhh' from the audience, along with a smattering of snickers and a wolf whistle.

"Now, okay," Scott said, grinning. "You know, I think Wolverine is a great guy, I do, but I don't like him THAT much," Scott responded, and the audience laughed with him.

"Great guy to have on your team, probably not a great guy to have around your water bed, am I right?" The host joked, and the audience howled with laughter.

"Yes, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid we have a very traditional marriage," I said. "When I took my vows to Scott, I meant them seriously. He's the only man for me, that's the way it's always been."

"Ah well, thanks for clearing that little piece of gossip right up," the host said. "Those Fanboys still get to dream, right?"

I smiled broadly again, while silently thinking just kill me.

After the show was over, I took off my microphone and gave it to some random assistant who was running around nervously with a clipboard, mindlessly clicking a pen. Scott was standing with his arms crossed, looking annoyed.

"Let's go," Scott said sounding pissed off, striding off set as I followed him. "They told me they weren't going to mention that garbage rumor. And we've gotta do this again Jean, we're scheduled to be on Mojo in the Morning tomorrow. Cater to the mutant crowd. This stuff is exhausting, I wish Xavier would just keep us out of it."

For once, he and I actually agreed on something. But talk shows and media appearances weren't what was really on my mind right now. I'd been waiting to get Scott alone because I had a few burning questions of my own I needed him to answer. As soon as we were far enough away from the set and the crew, I turned on my heel and faced Scott down.

"Who's the lawyer?" I hissed.

"What?" he asked me, looking startled. We were alone, in an alley between two buildings housing props and sets.

I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the concrete wall, as his face took on a look of utter surprise.

"Don't fuck with me Scott, who is she?" I asked, face dark.

"Woah, woah, what the hell has gotten into you?" Scott whispered back at me, glancing around nervously, and then down at my hands fisted tightly on his collar.

"Listen to me," I hissed. "If you aren't straight with me right now Scott Summers, I will reach right into that head of yours, pull out whatever I want and delete the rest. So tell me, right now."

"Jesus Christ Jean! You mean the lady with the papers?" Scott asked, looking uncomfortable pinned against the wall.

"Did she make you sign a contract?" I asked, still holding his collar.

"Jean- take your hands off me, right now. You're wrinkling my shirt. You're acting crazy. Yes, I signed her contract. It wasn't a big deal, it was basically just asking us to do what we're already doing anyway. Now what's got into you?"

I released his collar and brought my face close to his, menacing. He had a look in his eye that was part confusion part fear, and I liked it. Good. You should be afraid Scott. You should be afraid of me, because I will do whatever it takes to keep my family safe, including sacrificing you.

"What about the nursery?" I asked the words slowly and clearly.

"The WHAT?" he asked, squinting at me. He readjusted his glasses and stared at like I'd just asked him about flying pigs.

"The babies. The nursery. So help me God Scott, I will leave you a fucking vegetable. I'm not kidding."

"Jean are you unwell? Look, I'm not playing games with you, okay? I have no idea what you're talking about. What babies? Are you on drugs? You are acting completely insane!"

I could see beads of sweat standing out on Scott's brow, but I could also sense the confusion and total bewilderment coming off him in waves. He was telling the truth. He really didn't know what I was talking about. He had never seen a nursery. He didn't know anything about babies, or orphans, or a secret fucking door in the hatchery. No, apparently I was special. Or, had needed special coercion.

I backed off. Scott responded in kind by quickly backing away from me, staggering a few steps back, giving me furtive glances while smoothing out his shirt with both hands.

"Listen Jean," he said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you need to get some kind of psychological help. I'm sorry you broke up with Logan, not that it was all that surprising to the rest of us, but these things happen all the time. Pick yourself up and move on before you make a fool of yourself. You can't go around acting like this, so pull it together, we've all had our hearts broken," he finished, bitterness creeping into his voice.

I stared at Scott, pure hatred in my eyes.

"Listen," he continued. "Just be there at 6am tomorrow morning, all right? You got the contract same as me, I'm guessing. So let's do these appearances and then you can go... do whatever you want to do. All right? Emma and I have a vacation to Paris planned for the weekend, I don't want you to mess it up with this... whatever this is. Jesus," he shook his head again, before turning from me and walking away. He looked back a few times, as if he was anxious I was going to follow him and harass him.

I let him go, and I stood there, alone. I took off my mask, crumpled it in my hand. It took everything I had in me not to start crying in public. I tried not to think about it, but instead the memories of this morning came back to me, replaying in my head.

I'd woken up with swollen eyes, the night before like a haunting phantasm polluting my mind. I willed it to be false, to have hallucinated or dreamed the whole thing. But I knew I hadn't. It was very real. And every second I was awake, my child was in danger.

I almost immediately knew what I had to do. I knew Logan. I knew that if he caught so much of a hint of what was going on, if he had any inkling that they were blackmailing me, or much worse holding his daughter from him, he was going to fly into a blind rage. He was going to kill, and in the end all three of us were going to pay the price. I couldn't let that happen. And there was only one way I could think of to ensure that didn't happen, even though I loathed myself through every single second of it.

We'd sat down to lunch together. We'd gone to a cafe, just a simple place with salads and sandwiches. It was an ordinary restaurant, on an ordinary day, and I was sweating under these extraordinary and unforgiving circumstances. I'd wanted to be somewhere public, to remind me to stick to my own narrative and make sure neither of us got too emotional. I didn't think Logan had guessed what was coming, because he was a little too casual, body language relaxed.

"So, what was up last night, Jeannie?" Logan asked me, eating a fry off my plate.

I swallowed heavily. I had a chicken salad sandwich in front of me, but every bite tasted like a mouthful of lead. I'd taken one, then given up on it. I took a sip of water and tried to will myself to look up at him.

"I...uh, I met with a lawyer. It um, it turned out Scott had hired her," I started, clearing my throat.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Why'm I not surprised. What'd she say? Why were you so upset?"

"Well," I said, taking a deep breath. I had practiced the lie in the mirror several times. I wasn't a natural, that's for sure. For once, I wish I'd had some of Emma's talents of deception.

"She was there to serve me with divorce papers. And she said she'd talked to Scott, and that he hadn't wanted to do this, he'd really wanted to make this work, but he felt like he had no choice. And Logan, there was just... there was something about actually seeing those papers in front of me. Something so final. It just made me think..."

I paused, and stared down at my sandwich. I didn't want to do this. Please, don't make me do this, I thought silently to no one.

"Ya thought what?" Logan asked, a tinge of worry creeping into his voice. He'd stopped eating now and was watching my face intently.

I swallowed hard again. I took a deep breath. I couldn't bring myself to raise my eyes.

"I... I thought about all of it...I thought long and hard..about my marriage with Scott. All the good times we'd had. How we committed to each other and... uh...how I had broken that commitment and it wasn't really fair. It wasn't really fair what I'd done and maybe... you know, he deserved a second chance."

I stopped talking, sat there in silence, unable to look at him.

"You serious, Jeannie?" he asked softly, and this time I knew his voice sounded hurt. And incredulous. "After everythin' that guy's done? After how unhappy you were? I mean, it doesn't even have to be me. If you're not ready... I get it. I can give ya space, I can give ya time. Whatever ya need. But don't go back to him if he ain't makin' you happy, Jeannie, look at me," Logan said.

I looked up, and felt the tears welling in my eyes.

"I care about ya darlin'," he said. "I can't change the way I feel, and I can't... I can't make you want somethin' you don't. But I can tell ya that I want you to be happy."

"I'm sorry Logan," I said quietly. "I am so, so sorry."

Logan stared back at me. He looked hurt, confused. Concerned. And he looked at me with love. That was the worst part of it. I wish he'd thrown the table or waved his claws around or told me to go fuck myself, but no. This was worse somehow.

"Listen... I just want you to tell me straight. Is that it? I mean, is that it for us?" he asked. I could feel the pain start to roll off him and I felt it like a dull headache. God, how I hated having to do this. How badly I wanted this to be over, how difficult it was to push the lies out of my mouth. I wanted to tell him I wanted him too, I wanted the things he wanted, I wanted all of this. But I kept my mouth shut and let his heart break.

"Yes," I said, and repeated, "I'm sorry."

"Okay," Logan said, and there was a heaviness, a resignation in his voice that was almost physically painful to hear.

"Okay?" I asked, quickly wiping the tears away with the back of my hand, glancing at him to see if he meant it.

"I never thought I'd have ya for long," Logan, giving a sad, lopsided grin that quickly faded. "I been prepared for this since we got together, to be honest. Hey, Red, don't cry."

Tears ran freely down my face as I stared down at my cold food. I didn't want to embarrass myself in public like this so I quickly wiped them away with a napkin and looked anywhere but Logan, until I felt in control of my emotions again.

"Look... no hard feelins', okay?" Logan said. "An' I'm gonna do my best to move on. I know I was too persistent before, buggin' ya, and not takin' no for an answer. That's done, I promise ya. If we've been through this much, been this far and your mind's made up. I got it, I know it's real Jeannie. I want you to have this."

He pushed something across the table at me. It was a small, folded, velvet cloth. I looked down at it, looked back up at Logan, eyes questioning. He shrugged and the half-smile returned for a second, then faded, leaving his face almost ashen. I carefully unwrapped it, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring. It was very simple, a slim silver band and a single setting. I didn't know much about jewelry but this looked real, and expensive. Logan had probably put some time, thought, and money into it.

"I was savin' it," he said. "But either way. I want ya to have it. Just... you know. If you remember what we had. Like a memento."

"You were going to propose?" I asked. I slipped it on my finger. It fit perfectly. I admired it for a moment before suddenly catching myself, taking it off again and putting it back in the cloth. "I can't accept this Logan."

"C'mon," he said. "I get it. I'm not tryin' to be an asshole or keep ya here if you don't want to be. But I got no use for it. Keep it. If you don't want, give it someone who does. But it's yours Jeannie."

I reached into the pocket of my costume, and I felt the ring there, smooth and hard. I hoped I would still get to wear it someday. If we lived that long. I sighed, looking up at the streetlights in the studio lot. The crowd had rapidly thinned out. I was alone, except for a single janitor pushing a trash can and mop. It was dark, the taping had started around 9pm and it was probably close to 11:30pm by now.

Breathing in the cool night air, I jogged to my car, parked it near where Scott and I had come through a portal, and instantly I was back in Krakoa. I made sure no one was following me as I walked into the hatchery. I looked around, but it was a silent, still night.

I badged in, and ran to Echo's isolette. I took her out, breathing a sigh of relief as I held her in my arms. As I rocked her and fed her, fear and doubt began to creep into my mind. Logan didn't know what was happening. He seemed like he'd bought my story hook, line and sinker. He believed I'd really gone back to Scott. Did that mean- was he going to seek out comfort with someone else now? He'd been so understanding, telling me he was going to move on, when all the while I was screaming on the inside that I didn't want that, I didn't want that at all. But how could I blame him? He was technically a free man. And I knew Logan didn't have any shortage of admirers who would be willing to try and heal his bleeding heart. Probably while naked. I gritted my teeth.

The thought of Logan seeking solace in some other woman's arms made me livid, and now more than ever, as I cradled Echo and watched her curious eyes roam my face, I felt a burning hatred for whoever had done this to me. I thought of Logan touching someone else, kissing someone else, holding someone else and it made my blood boil. I realized the anxiety, the stress and the sheer exhaustion of the situation was getting to me. I didn't want to do all this alone, it was too much. I didn't want to shoulder this whole burden by myself. If only there were a way I could tell him. But there wasn't, none that I'd thought of yet, anyway.

"I'm sorry they dragged you into this," I said softly to the baby. Somewhere between the last two days I'd started calling her Echo, simply for lack of a better name. Part of me didn't want to name her out of fear I would lose her, part of me thought that should be something Logan and I discussed. So Echo it was, at least until there was another solution. And there would be, I told myself. Don't give up. Echo waved her arms and legs around like she'd just figured out she owned them, which was probably true. I held her against me, rocked her gently in the chair, and I before I knew it I felt my own eyelids getting heavy.

I was dreaming. I was at home with Logan. It was our home, I could feel the simple joy of it in my heart. It was a plain home, nothing big or fancy, but it felt comfortable and bright. I was sitting at a wooden table with Echo in a high chair next to me. She was older, maybe about a year of age. She had a head of thick, dark hair and mischievous blue eyes. Logan was standing at the stove, and there was the sizzling sound of bacon. It smelled delicious. I smiled, watching my daughter waving her arms, eyes focused on the kitchen.

"Dada!" Echo yelled. "Dada, dada, dada!"

"Yeah baby," Logan said with a grin, turning over the slices in the pan with a pair of tongs. "I know, I feel the same way I'm cookin' as fast as I can."

I used TK to move the cheerio box into my hand and dumped a few more on her tray. She laughed as she smashed them gleefully with both hands.

"She's got an appetite like 'er old man," Logan called from the stove proudly. He was wearing jeans a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up. His face looked relaxed, contented.

"Yes you do, don't you," I said, kissing her on the cheek. As she babbled and spread cheerio debris flying in all direction, I walked over to the stove to go pour her some more milk.

"Hey Jeannie," Logan said, turning away from the bacon and turning his attention to me. He nuzzled my neck, and I laughed, swatting him off.

"Your bacon is burning," I told him.

"Mmm," he said, undeterred, wrapping a hand around my waist. "Whattya say Red, if we can distract the starvin' beast over there with breakfast, maybe you an' I can get a little alone time."

I started laughing, "Okay Logan, she's going to finish her food in under a minute,"

"Not a problem," Logan grinned, raising an eyebrow, and I laughed.

"All right there, cool down," I said, "I know you think I came over here due to your unstoppable animal magnetism, but actually, Echo's cup was out of milk. So. Excuse me." I pushed him playfully out of the way, opened the fridge and picking up the container of mild. "I'm coming baby girl," I said, glancing back at Echo.

The high chair was empty.

My heart stopped in my chest.

"ECHO!" I screamed.

I jolted awake, heart pounding away, confused and disoriented.

For a second, I didn't know who I was, where I was. As soon as I realized I was in the nursery, I'd panicked that I'd somehow dropped or suffocated the baby. I glanced down in dread, but there was Echo, cuddled in my arms, fast asleep, breathing evenly. I let out a huge sigh of relief, and realized I'd been sweater. I felt uncomfortable. Then I realized there was something soaking through my uniform top. Carefully putting Echo down, I realized it was milk. It was my milk. My breasts felt full, and It had leaked through my bra, through my costume, and was now quite obviously staining the front of both breasts. Without any changes of clothes except a drawer full of onesies, I guessed I was going to have to walk home like this.

"What the fuck," I groaned, trying not to jostle Echo enough to wake her. "As if this couldn't get any worse. Great. This is great. Just awesome."

It was like my body was adding insult to injury. This was my baby, even though I had no memories of pregnancy, or birth- still, here she was, and she was mine, and my body was reacting as if it knew that she belonged to me. I realized how exhausted I was, how I probably wasn't all that safe to be holding a baby right now, and should put her back into her isolette. I held her a long time, looking at her tenderly before I placed her back. She barely stirred.

I left the double doors feeling empty, shivering a little as the second door closed behind me. I didn't know how late it was, probably far after midnight.

I took two steps, and suddenly the hair on my neck stood on end, and I felt a tingling in my spine.

I wasn't alone.

My adrenaline surged as I glanced around, frightened. I opened my mind, but found nothing.

"Hello?" I called out, as my voice echoed in the empty space.

Silence. And then, a presence declared itself.