TW there is brief mentions of suicide in this chapter.

Scott's POV

"I'm telling you, Scott, just find the gift she got you and you'll know what sort of thing to get her!" Alex says.

I made the mistake of informing my little brother that I don't know what to get Jean for Valentine's day. I never really cared about the holiday before I started dating her. But when we went on a date the first year we were a couple, it changed my mind. It had been the first time in a long, long time that I had been truly happy. Jean was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. Ororo had done her hair that night so that red curls cascaded down her back with strands of glittery thread incorporated in them. I remember that the threads sparkled in the moonlight. Now that we're engaged, I want to make the day even more special and the jewelry, flowers, or chocolates I usually get her doesn't seem special enough.

I roll my eyes. "That defeats the purpose of a gift, doesn't it? What are you getting Lorna?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. She isn't that into romantic holidays. I'll probably just show up at her doorstep and surprise her with that heart-shaped Dominos pizza. Maybe she'll give me a Lil something-something too." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "You know, you could always get some sexy lingerie and slap a bow on your dick. Boom! Your problem is solved. You can thank me later!"

I'm pretty sure the look on my face is of sheer horror. Sure, I enjoy sexually engaging with the woman I love, but I'd be caught dead in sexy lingerie. We don't do that. Hell, the last time we had sex, I had to take Jean out of a footed deer onesie her parents got matching for her and her sister on Christmas.

"I think I'd prefer my chances looking for the gift she got me," I admit. I wince when Alex jumped up, way too eager. "Wait! I didn't mean that literally!"

"Too late now, big bro!" He runs out of the room and up the stairs before I can grab him. I follow. How is he so fast?

"Alex!"

By the time I catch up with him, he's already looking through a drawer. "The only thing in here are shirts!" he complains.

"Yeah, my shirts, and you're wrinkling them." I grab my button-up from his hands and refold it. "You don't really think she'd hid a gift in my dresser, do you?"

"I didn't know it was your dresser. Where does she usually hide things?"

Oh, Jean will be mad when she finds out that I found her gift, but she does have an unfair advantage. Her telepathy has always aided her in being the best gift-giver I've ever seen. The gifts are always thoughtful, because, well, she can read thoughts.

So I tell him the places I have found that she hides things. The back of the closet is one. And under the bed. I don't find anything except for the Lego set we forgot to give Rachel for Christmas, and several missing socks. "Maybe she just has not bought a gift yet," I say, plopping onto the bed.

"Or maybe she's keeping this for Valentine's day," Alex turns around from Jean's underwear drawer, holding up a white stick-looking-thing.

I don't know why Alex is grinning over some everyday item. "Why would a thermometer be my gift?"

"Wait, you think–" much to my embarrassment, he doubles over, laughing hysterically. Clutching his side, he's met with my unamused look and pulls himself together. "This is a pregnancy test, big bro, and those lines mean it's positive. You're going to be a father again."

In the seconds that follow, I might have blacked out. When I found out that Rachel was my daughter, I collapsed to the floor. It wasn't my finest moment, which is why I'm glad I'm sitting on the bed now.

I don't understand! I'm always so careful and even aced my sex-ed course in high school! My drawer is full of condoms. I always make sure that I put them on before we do anything. Was there a hole in one? Did I use one that was expired?

"What should I do?" I ask. Surely I'd be the first one she told, right? But if I confront her about it then she'd know that we were searching through her stuff. I'd prefer to keep that canned up for as long as I can with a telepath. Besides, I've heard that pregnant women can be more irritable than they might be otherwise.

"Well, does she like chocolate?"

"Uh, Yeah." What does he think I usually get her for Valentine's day? Black Licorice?

"Then get he a shit ton of that," he suggests. "You are putting her through nine months of torture and that's before the labor part! The least you can do is get her chocolate."

I decide now that it isn't a good idea to ask my little brother for advice. It's what got me in this mess in the first place, after all. I wouldn't be panicking right now if I hadn't fallen for Alex's devious plan to snoop around Jean's stuff. I should have just waited and asked Ororo if she had mentioned anything to her that she wants.

But noooo! I had to go along with Alex and let him dig through her underwear drawer. How could I be so stupid? And how could I have slipped up this badly in bed?

He puts a hand on my shoulder. I glance up at him. "Don't stress, Scott. It'll work out in the end. You're a great father with Rachel, I'm sure you will be for baby number 2 as well."

Not stressing is easier said than done. "Have you not seen the world we're living in?" I challenge. "Or have you just not pieced together that any child that Jean and I have, will be born with the xgene? Alex, there is more at stake here than being a good father. It's bad enough that I have to fear for Rachel's life, as well as Jean's and my own. But both of them are capable of fighting their own battles, but a baby? A baby's only defense is its parents. What if Jean or I am not here to be that?"

"Ah man, I didn't think of that," Alex admits, wincing as he processes my ramble. His brows furrowed. "But if it makes you feel any better, Uncle Alex will always be here to protect Lil baby S. You can count on me."

"Thanks," I sigh heavily and attempt to rub the newly-blossoming headache out. I roll my shoulder to loosen my tense muscles. With a week's worth of lesson plans to get done tonight, I cannot afford to be so stressed right now, especially after I procrastinated for two nights now to get finished with my work. To think last night I could have been working instead of watching that movie with Jean and Rachel. Then I would be done and wouldn't be working while I'm stressing about the unborn right now.

Hindsight is fifty-fifty, I guess.

Alex leaves me to work and I pull out my laptop to start my plans. But an article on my homepage catches my attention. It adds a new pile right onto my already quickly-growing landfill of stress.

'Deformed Mutant Boy found Strangled in Home. Authorities say Suicide. Experts say Otherwise.'

The yearbook photo shown is of a boy, probably eleven or twelve, and right away I know he would be a target from mutant hate groups. He has bony plates over his forehead, arms, and shoulders, and his eyes are reptilian. Even though he is smiling in the photo, he has fear in his expressions.

I wish I could be surprised that he was found dead.

The article goes on to say;

'Tyler Pearson, age twelve, was found in his home by his parents yesterday afternoon. Mrs. and Mr. Pearson say they knew of his depression, and are quoted as saying "He(Tyler) was bullied at school for his condition. We recently took him out and chose to homeschool him instead. We thought his depression was getting better. I guess we were wrong."

To add to the parents' agony. No note was recovered at the scene.

But is Pearson's depression really to blame? Upon further investigation, an independent resource has raised questions on the legitimacy of this suicide. The window in his bedroom was open when the body was found. His parents swear he never did due to allergies. A single footprint was found in the flowerbed under the window as well.

The evidence of foul play is not enough to carry on the investigation. Local authorities have closed the case as a suicide.'

To Be Continued...

Poor Scott just can't catch a break, can he?