Chapter 11 - Amendments

- A week later

Manhattan, New York.

"This is cute," Ororo said, showing Jean the pinkish baby body with a small elephant printed on the front.

The redhead looked at it with attention and nodded. "It is. Throw it on the cart next to the others."

"I think we've picked enough baby clothes for a whole year, Jean. What else does my godchild need?" The white-haired woman asked, glancing around the department store.

"Let me see… Newborn size diapers, a couple of baby blankets, a maternity bag..." The redhead went through the list on her smartphone.

"Okay. What about a stroller?" Ororo pointed at a few baby strollers displayed on the store floor.

"No, we've already gotten one," Jean explained while checking price tags.

Storm raised a brow. "Logan's doing?"

"Yeah, right!" The telepath scoffed and added. "Actually, it's Warren's doing. He had it delivered to the apartment yesterday, along with a fancy bathtub and a cutting-edge baby monitor. Said his godchild deserves only the best," she told her friend with a roll of her eyes. "I swear to God, I'll kill him if he turns my daughter into a spoiled brat."

Ororo hesitated for a moment but chose to speak her mind in the end. "Jean… you know that Warren and I will be there for you and the baby... You can count on us for anything. But… your child does have a father."

The redhead stopped in her tracks and stared back at her best friend, a stern look in her face. "Not if I can help it."

"Jean…"

"Ororo, please don't. Logan's dangerous," she stated, dead serious. "That liar bastard isn't coming anywhere near my daughter."

Storm sighed. "You can't do that to him. He's got rights as a parent…"

"Oh yeah? And where's he now, huh? Probably cutting someone's head off somewhere around the country."

"You're being unfair, Jean. I know he has scared you… Goddess, I remember my own eyeballs almost jumping off from my orbs the first time I saw him piercing the enemy with those claws…"

"Thanks for the image, Ro. I'm feeling much safer now," the telepath said wryly.

The wind-rider ignored her. "My point is… Logan's a dangerous man, all right; and he did screw up - again, if I may add - by not telling you about his claws… I swear I didn't know he'd kept that away from you for all this time. But he would never, never harm you or the baby. He loves you. Both of you."

Jean squeezed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose. "Ro… You don't get it. I was inside of his mind… I saw and felt all the fury, the rampage, the bloodthirst in his eyes. Then I witnessed those same deadly eyes staring back at me, twice… Even if it was for less than a second," she revealed to her friend, her words drenched in terror. "And the sound of those claws slashing…," she shuddered, "that was the last straw. I can't allow him to inflict the same fear to my baby."

"I understand, Jean," Ororo replied, somewhat sadly. "Still… I think you two should talk and try to settle this, once and for all."

"Humph. All he's ever done is lie to me, Ro. How can I talk to him if I can't trust him?"

"Well… You're still living in his apartment."

"Not for long. I… I'm thinking about moving down to Florida… to be with my sister and my mom for a while."

"What?"

"I need a break, Ro. I need some stability. I'm done with this emotional rollercoaster."

"You can't do this to Logan, Jean. You can't just go away…"

The redhead raised a brow at Ororo. "Watch me."

Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, New York.

Charles Xavier was on the way to his bedroom when he heard dull 'thuds' coming from the recreation room. He casted his telepathy out and detected a young male's mind bursting with excitement and hope, also a hint of worry blending in. He smiled and wheeled himself towards the familiar noise.

"Good evening, Mr. Summers."

Alex was leaning over the pool table, a billiard cue in his hand, and immediately straightened himself up at the sound of Xavier's deep voice.

"Oh, hello Professor. Good evening to you too," he greeted back, feeling slightly intimidated by the older man's presence.

Xavier sensed the blonde man's shyness. "I'm sorry to interrupt you. I just wanted to certify that you and Ms. Dane are mingling in well with the rest if the team."

"Ah, yes, sir… We're good. Everyone's being very nice to us."

"I'm happy to hear that. I see that you are giving the old cue sticks some good use…"

"Yeah, uh… I mean, if you don't mind."

Professor X gave a short smirk and kindly answered. "Not at all, son… I used to have quite a straight aim back in the day," he said, and Alex couldn't help but glance down at the man's paralyzed legs. "It's good to see someone having fun around here. You seem to be quite good at this game," the bald man stated.

"Thanks sir, but… not really. I just hit the balls and hope they'll fall into the pockets. You should see my brother playing, though… He's the real straight shooter, in more than one way, actually."

Xavier raised a brow in curiosity. "And to what other ways are you referring, Mr. Summers?"

Alex rested the cue over the table to properly address his new mentor. "Scott… He's great with anything related to aiming… I guess that's probably due to his mutant abilities."

"Please, do elaborate," Charles asked with interest.

"Well, he can shoot some pretty strong laser beams from his eyes. Never misses a target," the young mutant explained. "God knows I could never beat him in snooker," he snorted.

"Scott seems to be quite a skilled man. Is he the one who is moving to New York?"

"Yeah, that's right. He's my only brother, works as a pilot. I've been trying to convince him to leave Alaska for a while… Now that his wife's died and our grandad's closed the airline, he's finally agreed to it," Alex told him. "He and my nephew will arrive tomorrow."

"I see," Xavier rested his chin on his entwined fingers for a few seconds, and then said. "I'm sorry to ask you, Alex… But does your brother have a job position waiting for him in New York?"

"Not really," the younger Summers replied, knowing where this conversation was heading to. "But I suppose he'll be looking for work as soon as he finishes settling in. Right now, he's more worried about his baby son," he explained. "Scott's a real family guy."

The Professor gave him a small grin. "So, not the superhero type, I assume?"

Alex returned the smile. "I guess not."

"Well, I hope Scott does settle in well in the city, Mr. Summers," Charles said, turning away in his chair to leave. "I'd love to meet him someday. Perhaps we could all gather for a pool game," he added wheeling out of the room.

"Perhaps we could…" Alex responded, and shook his head. 'Oh my…'

Asteroid M, Somewhere over the Earth's Orbit.

The corridors went silent as the Kleinstock brothers carried Erik Lensher to his rooms. Fabian Cortez followed them closely.

"My lord, you shouldn't have exceeded yourself so much. You're weak now," the blonde mutant addressed his superior, worry dripping from his voice.

The older man was quickly put to bed. "It needed, ugh… to be done," he justified between moans.

"You are too good, master. Those mutants in Venezuela… They owe their lives to you."

"It is our duty, Cortez… ugh… to protect… our kind," Lensher was panting, eyes almost closed due to the herculean effort. Barely thirty minutes ago, Magneto and his acolytes had fought a heavily armed army of human supremacists in South America. They saved twelve mutant lives, including children, and transported all of them to the security of Asteroid M. Magnus had done most of the heavy work.

"Harlan, Sven… You may leave. I'll take care of lord Magneto tonight," Cortez ordered, and waited for the two brothers to exit before continuing. "I know that your intentions are the purest, my lord. But I worry for your safety… for your health."

"I need… to rest, Fabian… Tomorrow… I'll shall be recovered," the Master of Magnetism said.

"My lord… Let me assist you. Let me use my mutant gifts to restore your energy, as I have done last week, and the week before."

This time, Magneto didn't hesitate… He was feeling too drained to think straight. "You have my permission, Cortez."

The acolyte's hands glowed with a yellowish light, and he placed them over Erik's chest. It took only a couple of minutes, and the gray-haired mutant began to feel healthy and strong once again.

"I thank you, my friend. Now leave me… I still need some sleep."

"I'm honored to be of help, my lord. Do not hesitate to call me if you need me again," the blonde man said, exiting the room with a mischievous grin.

Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, New York.

On the next day, the X-Men were gathered in the War Room, sitting around the big metal table. Xavier looked at his pupils' faces; some were hardened and experienced, like Wolverine, Beast and Forge; others were mysterious but loyal, like Rogue and Gambit; some were kind and naïve, like Nightcrawler, Jubilee and Angel; many were new but devoted, like Storm, Iceman, Havoc and Polaris. Most were young, perhaps too young to be preparing for war. All were powerful. All could be dangerous.

"My friends, the time has come for us to fight for our kind… and for our own lives, I'm afraid. I have always defended a peaceful coexistence between mutants and humans; however, things have gone too far, even for my taste."

"What do you mean, prof?" Jubilation asked while chewing a gum.

"He means, mon petit, no more fooling around. We're at war."

"Gumbo's right. The X-Men have prevented a hell lotta deaths in the past couple of years. First, it was just those bigots from F.O.H. throwin' homemade bombs here and there. Then, those creeps from the Hellfire Club decide to turn off every mutant power in the country, and the fuckers in the White House even pay money for it. Now the government's started persecutin' and killin' mutants," Wolverine explained and snarled. "This is war."

"Indeed," Beast said, pointing to the 3D-image in the middle of the room. "This was Calvin Rankin, a nineteen-year-old man who worked in a cell phone store in New Jersey and had no criminal records. Like us, he was a homo superior - a shapeshifter - yet his skills were only activated when he was proximate to another mutant," McCoy paused for a second. "He hid his abilities quite well; not even his family was aware that he was a mutant. When the government discovered that he possessed the mutant-gene - thanks to the compulsory blood test - Calvin refused to be injected with the vaccine and chose to run away. Unfortunately, his powers were ineffectual against humans and gun fire. He was shot point blank in the face."

"Oh mah Gosh! Poor thing," Rogue lamented with tears in her eyes, soon followed by more commotion from her teammates.

"It could've happened to me if it weren't for you guys," Iceman noted, his blue eyes also wet.

"And to Jeannie," Logan growled, making Storm and Angel exchange glances from across the big round table.

Xavier wore a solemn face. "True. Sadly, this time, the X-Men weren't around to save Mr. Rankin. I have to wonder… How many more mutants must perish because we weren't prepared to defend them?"

"Herr Professor… You should not blame yourself like zhis," Nightcrawler tried to comfort his mentor.

"Kurt's right, Charles. Rankin almost didn't use his powers. How could the X-Men have tracked him? Not even you, with Cerebro, could have known about his existence," Forge reasoned.

"Me, the most powerful mind on the planet, couldn't foresee and prevent an innocent's death. And yet, we have records of Magneto rescuing mutants all around the globe," Xavier sneered guiltily.

"Let's thank the old bucket head for that," Storm said. "But what about the X-Men? How can we do better here, in America?"

"That's the entire point of this meeting, Ororo. We know for a fact that the government will spread the cure to the whole country soon. We have enough evidence that it has worked in the West Coast… Many mutants who live there have lost their powers," Professor X explained. "Those who realized what was happening and fled to other parts of the territory will soon experience the same… But this time, they'll become powerless and won't be able to defend themselves. We must anticipate it."

"How, Professah?"

"Simply, my dear Anna. I will spend every waken hour tracking mutant minds with Cerebro. This way, if they use even a small fraction of their skills, I will detect them."

Dr. McCoy intervened. "Charles… I believe such a measure would be counterproductive. It would demand a great amount of effort from you; it would certainly weaken you, perhaps even kill you."

"A small price that I'm willing to pay."

"Or… we could blast the damn 'cure' factory down before they throw that shit into the rest of the water," Wolverine suggested, rubbing his stubble. "It would buy Hank and Forge some time to finish the antidote's conduit."

"That's… actually a good idea," Forge pondered, and added. "The thing is… We don't know where the factory is. Or how many there are, for that matter."

"It's probably well-hidden and surrounded by lots of guards… Maybe even military," Havoc pointed out.

Gambit gave a cocky smile. "De more, de merrier."

"Here's what the X-Men will do. We'll find the plant's location, then we'll fuckin' burn it to the ground," Logan stated, and all agreed. "Angel, Gambit, Forge and Chuck, use your contacts and skills to find where the hell's this plant. Everyone else, keep your eyes open for any possible mutants out there, and get ready. As soon as we uncover this factory's location, we're goin' in."

Storm waited for her teammates to disperse, and then approached the team leader. "Wolverine… What about Jean?"

He raised a brow. "What 'bout her?"

Ororo gave him a dumbfounded look. "What do you think, genius? She's a target!"

"No, she ain't. As long as she stays in my place and don't drink the water, she's safe."

"Have you two talked?"

Logan crossed his arms, annoyed, and didn't answer. The woman went on.

"Well, news flash to you, daddy. Jean's planning on moving to Florida," Ororo revealed. "Soon."

"What? Why?" Wolverine growled.

It was Storm's turn to raise her brow. "Why do you think?"

"Ah shit! Why the fuck she has to be so stubborn?" He asked, storming away from the room, heading for the garage.

"Right. Because you're so easy going…," Ororo muttered to herself.

Salem Center, New York.

Fifteen minutes later, Logan parked his Harley in front of the brick wall building, lit a cigar, and waited. He looked around, checking out for possible enemies, but found none. His apartment was on the second floor and his heightened senses allowed him to hear Jean speaking to someone on the phone. At some point she responded with a giggle, and he felt his blood boiling as he imagined the redhead flirting with some other guy. After about eight minutes, she hung up the phone; then he heard how she groaned in sudden pain. Wolverine felt the urge to rush inside, but didn't. He knew Jean was mad at him, and worst of all, she was afraid. So he took a deep breath to calm himself and waited patiently for her to come down - she had a night shift to attend to today.

When the telepath finally exited the building and was met with Logan's cold demeanor, she ignored his presence and turned away, heading for the bus stop. He followed her.

"We've gotta talk," his voice was rough and solemn.

She didn't stop walking, nor turned her head in his direction. "No, we don't. Stay away from me," she demanded in a hurried tone.

But before she could understand what was happening, Wolverine grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a small alley. "We're gonna talk now, and I don't care whatcha think."

The telepath gave a yell in surprise and used her telekinesis to shove his bulky body a few feet away from her. "Get the hell away from me!" She shouted and suddenly flinched, her hands reaching down to clutch her abdomen.

"What happened? Did I hurt ya?" Logan asked in concern, motioning to her pregnant belly.

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" She replied, acid pouring from her voice. "Who knows, you could even use your claws this time."

The feral man snarled. "I've never hurt ya, Jean. Not physically," he added in a hiss.

"No, not yet," she gave back. The look on her face was a mix of sheer rage and fear.

"Look, Red… I'm not here to fight. Ro told me ya wanna move to Florida. Ya can't."

The alley was dim, the sun far gone into the horizon, but Wolverine didn't miss the hint of defiance in her green eyes. "Oh, yeah? And why is that?"

"'Cause it ain't safe, and ya're carryin' my goddamn child inside of ya! Jesus! Why do ya have to piss me off every fuckin' time?"

Jean was about to retort but grimaced in pain again, slightly bending the upper half of her body. Wolverine rushed to her side and held her right arm for support, but the woman pulled her arm away; she then drew in a deep breath and straightened up again.

"Ya okay?"

"I'm fine."

"What was that 'bout?"

"Nothing. She's kicking a lot since yesterday."

He furrowed his brows. "Ya sure that's all? Shouldn't ya see a doctor?"

"I just did. I had another scan. Everything's fine. She's fine."

"Huh. 'kay then," he stepped away and studied her face. Jean seemed a little paler, but beside that, she looked more beautiful than ever. He decided that pregnancy suited her well. "Ya look good," he said truthfully, just because he couldn't help it.

She purposely ignored him. "I'm late. What do you want, Logan?"

"I want ya to stay here. Stay inside the apartment, as much as ya can. Ya can't go to Florida."

"Why?"

"'Cause they're killin' mutants everywhere," he explained in a low voice and continued. "I can keep ya safe here. Both of ya."

"Can you?"

"Jean. Please. I know I lost my temper… again. I screwed up, fine. But I'd never hurt ya, never, do ya hear me? Especially not when ya're pregnant with my kid," he said.

"And how do you expect me to ever believe you again?"

"I'm not lyin', damnit," Wolverine snapped, and immediately regretted it. He sighed. "Just… see for yourself, then. Look inside my head."

The telepath shook her head. "No thanks."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Listen… Ya stay in the flat, at least 'til the baby's born. I won't bother ya there, unless ya want me to, all right? It's yours. Ya do whatever ya want with it. I'm close by, ya call me if anythin' strange happens, okay? And ya watch out for yourself, darlin'. Use your powers if ya need to."

Jean's heart skipped a beat - he'd never talked to her in that tone, not even when her apartment had been invaded by the F.O.H. a few months ago. "Logan… you're scaring me."

"Good. Ya should be scared. Ya're a fugitive mutant, ya're pregnant, and the government's probably lookin' for ya as we speak."

"Shit," the redhead whipped her head around as if expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows. She then looked back at his face. "D-Do you think I should quit my job? I mean, do you think they could come looking for me in the hospital?"

"Yeah, I do. Ya hide and rest, and let me worry 'bout the bills, all right?" He moved in closer, but the woman took a step back. "Look… I know things ain't great between us lately, and I don't mean to push ya into somethin' ya don't wanna do. I just want ya and the baby to be safe, I swear."

Jean considered his words and tapped at the surface of his mind - she sensed no mischief coming from him. On the contrary, she realized that his worry was real and deep. Finally, she said. "Okay, Logan. I won't take any risks, not with the baby. But I have to go to work tonight, they're waiting for me. I'll talk to my boss as soon as I get there," she promised, and glanced at her watch. "Shit, I'm super late."

"I can take ya in the bike, darlin'," he raised a brow, and the redhead looked at him suspiciously.

"I guess I'll catch the next bus."

"C'mon, Jeannie. Lemme do this, all right? For old times' sake," he pleaded, and gave her a small smile. "I swear I won't hit the gas too hard."

She sighed. "Fine. Just… don't do anything stupid, Logan. I still don't trust you."

He tried to conceal his hurt at her words. "We'll change that. Follow me."