"We find a delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
~ * ~
It was snowing outside, the delicate flakes coating the New York landscape with a layer of frothy white. In a few hours the clock would strike twelve, the partygoers would ring in the new year, and make resolutions they had no intention of keeping. "Sort of like my life," Logan thought to himself. He continuously made promises: that he'd leave the mansion and carve a life for himself away from Jean; that he'd find someone new, move on with his life; that he'd give his heart away as freely as Jean wanted him to--but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't force himself to leave the masochistic hell of Charles' Xavier's sprawling mansion.
His eyes focused on the happy couple, Jean and Scott, celebrating not only the incoming year, but the birth of their first child, due in a month. Jean was breathtaking, a vision in sparkling white that hugged her curves and accentuated her extended abdomen. Scott stood beside her, beaming with masculine pride, as they greeted the couples and accepted congratulations on their incoming arrival. Jean's choice of color was ironic, but not particularly shocking; in the last few months she'd taken to going to church and saying bedtime prayers--her belated attempt to achieve redemption for her sins. Yet, as hard as she tried Logan knew she'd never find absolution--because she'd never truly believed what she was doing was wrong. How could she honestly find fault in loving someone?
"Jean, Scott, congratulations," he heard a female voice gush to the 'happy couple.' "You must be so excited--and thrilled," the woman continued.
"Thank you, Louisa," Jean replied. "Words can't describe how I feel."
"Very true," Logan thought. He doubted Louisa knew how it felt to pass of one man's child as another's.
"Have you decided on a name yet?" Louisa asked. "Or do you know if it's a boy or a girl."
"Well," Scott started, pumping out his chest as he spoke. "I like Rachel for a girl, and I think Scott Junior would be perfect for a boy, but--"
"We haven't really decided," Jean interrupted. "We want to keep it a surprise."
"Of course," Louisa commented. "Well, good luck." She drifted away, leaving a fuming Jean in her wake.
"Scott, how dare you?" Jean accused. "You know we haven't chosen a name yet!"
"You said you liked Scott Junior," he defended himself.
"I didn't say I didn't like it, Scott. But I never said that was what I wanted to name my child."
"I'm sorry. We'll decide on the name later, okay? Let's not fight at the party. We'll discuss this later."
"Fine," Jean said, pasting a smile on her face as Scott pulled her in for a kiss. To the casual observer they appeared to be the epitome of a happy, expecting couple--but Logan's carefully trained eye saw more, most notably that her smile had yet to reach her eyes.
"Jean, Scooter," Logan said as he approached the two. "Congratulations."
"Logan!" Jean cried. "I didn't think you'd be here; I hope you're enjoying the party."
"Came to wish the new parents the best."
"And now that you have, you can leave; you're not welcome at this party, Logan."
"Scott!" Jean exclaimed, placing a hand on his arm. "There's no need to be rude; Logan was simply being polite."
"There's always an ulterior motive where he's concerned--and it usually has something to do with you. I'm going to get a drink. Say what you have to say to Jean, Logan. I want you gone when I get back."
Jean looked at him with commiserating eyes, but they did nothing to soothe his anger. The last thing he wanted was her pity.
"I'm sorry about Scott's behavior," Jean explained. "He's been very uneasy the last few months; he has a lot on his mind, and he's worried about me and the baby."
"I don't care about Scooter. I only care about you."
"Logan, stop!" Jean hissed. "You can't talk like that here, not with all these people around. They'll get suspicious."
"You mean they'll figure out the truth."
"No, I mean they'll ruin my life, and the lives of everyone I care about--including you. Now tell me the truth; why are you really here?"
"To see you. You've been hiding, Jeannie."
Jean sucked in her breath at the nickname only he called her. "I've been very busy; winter always brings about a lot of accidents, and the students have been steadily twisting ankles and spraining wrists and--"
"Stop making excuses. You've been avoiding me."
"You make things. . .complicated."
"Complications are what makes life interestin'."
"Complications are something I can't afford. Thank you for your congratulations. Good-bye, Logan." She turned on her heel and walked away, quickly finding her husband in the crowd and linking arms with him. Logan could here her greet another group of well-wishes, her laughter carrying over the crowd.
Logan contemplated his situation. Maybe it was time to call it a night; after all, he wasn't getting anything accomplished at this party--accept a steady kick in the gut. He was about to leave when magnolia perfume filled his senses and the sharp clicking of spiked heels sounded to his left.
"Here sugah," Rogue said in her breathy, Southern drawl as she thrust a glass containing a smooth, amber liquid into his hand.
"What is this?" Logan asked as he sniffed the glass.
"Whiskey; Glen Livett. Tha finest from tha Highland's of Scotland. Ah know it ain't a permanent cure for a brokin' heart, but it should do the trick for a bit."
Logan looked down into Rogue's sympathetic eyes and pushed away the urge to snap at her. She honestly wasn't pitying him; she was trying to help. "Thanks," he said, downing the alcohol in one gulp. "Got anymore where this came from?"
She gave him a conspiratorial wink and led him towards a table where Remy, Hank of all people, and Bobby were playing some sort of drinking game.
"Logan, mon ami," Remy drawled, his Cajun accent more pronounced in his slightly inebriated state. "Ya any good at quarters? Da' Doc an' Bobby are killin' me."
Logan knew he shouldn't spend the night getting drunk at Jean's party; but when faced with the alternative of watching Scott and Jean play house and throw their pregnancy in his face, getting blazed out of his mind seemed like a pretty good idea. Like Rogue had said: it wasn't a permanent cure for unrequited love, but it would make the night a little easier to get through.
"Gumbo, you've got a partner. Let's show these kid's what it means to drink."
~ * ~
"Logan, why do you do this to yourself?" Jean asked a few hours later as she pulled off his shoes. The four men had achieved their goal and gotten thoroughly smashed, leaving an amused Rogue, an embarrassed Ororo, and a furious Jean the job of getting them to bed. Scott had grudgingly carried Logan up the stairs, only to dump him unceremoniously on his bed and storm out of the room, leaving Jean to ensure he didn't fall getting into bed.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Logan whispered. With surprising gentleness he brushed her cheek with his knuckles; Jean unconsciously turned into the caress, her breathing quickening as her skin made contact with his. "You're like an angel," Logan continued. "My angel, sent to Earth to protect me. You say you hate me, Jeannie, but I know you're lyin'; you'd never let anyone hurt me. An' I feel the same; you're mine Jeannie, now and forever. Scott may have you according to the laws of the land, but I have you by the laws of the heart. Body and soul, you'll always be mine."
Jean felt her heartbeat accelerate at Logan's beautiful words; she hated when he talked like that--because it made her believe she and Logan had chance when she knew there was nothing left for them. "Logan, stop talking. You're drunk; you don't know what you're talking about."
"I know I love you--and that you love me. And even if you stay married to Scott for the rest of your life, you'll die knowing you loved another man--and you let him go."
Jean pulled out of Logan's embrace and dropped his shoes on the floor. "Goodnight, Logan," she said flatly. "I left Aspirin on your night table. When you wake up tomorrow with a bitch of hangover don't come to my lab. You know what?" she said, her voice angry now. "Don't see me at all. I told you, all you are is a complication, a problem. And I don't need problems in my life. And I don't love you, not anymore. I love my husband and my baby and the family we're creating together. So stay away from me; away from me and away from Scott, and away from my baby!" Jean stormed out of the room, angrily slamming the door behind her.
Logan attempted to follow her, but stumbled in his drunken state and narrowly caught himself from falling over and banging his head against the desk chair. He cursed when he realized he couldn't do anything to solve the problem in his current state. "Tomorrow, I'll fix this," he assured himself. By then he'd be sober and calmer and ready to make up with Jean. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, knowing things would be all better in the morning.
~ * ~
Things weren't better though. It had been two weeks since his fight with Jean, and she'd gone through with her threat: she avoided him at all costs and went out of her way to stay away from him when they were forced to be in the same room together. He wanted to leave again; being away from Jean was hard, but being near her and unable to touch her was worse. And he would leave--if it wasn't for his students. Somehow, in the last few months, his group of ragged, hard-edged juvenile delinquents had found a place in his heart. Jean had told him it would happen, that in the course of a short time the students would worm their way inside and get under his skin--and they had. They counted on him for advice, both in weightlifting and muscle training, but also about life in general. He'd never thought he'd be dishing out love advice, not when his own love life was so screwed up, but when the first boy had come to him and shyly questioned how to ask out a girl, he'd become a male Dr. Ruth.
But now the mansion was quiet, empty. The students had a month off from Christmas to the end of January, and the Professor had insisted that every student leave the mansion's premises, something about the student's getting a break from school and its environment. Even those without parents or the means to travel were given a fully-paid trip to the Massachusetts Academy during break. Even the team's standard members had disappeared: Remy and Rogue had taken the children to New Orleans to introduce Dominique to the Thieves Guild; Warren and Betsey were skiing in Aspen; even Hank and the Professor had fled to a medical conference in Washington, DC. That left himself, Jean, Scott, Ororo, and Bobby at the mansion to battle the increasingly active Friends of Humanity. He was just on his way to the roof to smoke a cigar when raised voices broke through the utter silence of the empty house. Logan crept silently around a corner to find Scott, suited up for a mission, and Jean arguing in the hallway.
"Jean, I don't have to go on this mission," Scott said, his voice carrying through the mansion. "Storm is just as capable as I am; she can lead."
"No, Scott," Jean argued. "You need to be there. Our numbers are already down because so many people are out of town; we can't afford to lose another team member. If we're going to run a skeleton crew, you need to go."
"But I can't, Jean. Not when you're so close to your due date."
"Scott," Jean said, her voice taking on that soothing quality she always used when she wanted to win a fight. "I'll be fine; the hospital is close by. This mission is too important for you not to go."
"Jean--"
"Scott, that Friends of Humanity base must be shut down. You need to go."
"Okay," Scott relented, pulling Jean into his arms for a hug. "But I want you to rest while I'm gone. Can you promise me you'll do that?"
"I promise," Jean said, snuggling closer into Scott's arms. "Good luck, Scott. Come home safe, okay?"
"As good as new," he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss. "Now you get to bed; I want you rested when I get back." Jean waved goodbye as she headed down the hall towards their bedroom. Scott turned and walked in the direction of the Blackbird hanger where Logan knew Storm and the rest of the team were waiting for instructions.
Once Scott was gone, Logan took off in the direction of Jean's bedroom, just to make sure she was okay. As he approached the room he could smell apples and cinnamon, signaling that Jean was taking another of her bubble baths; she'd given up showers a month ago when it had become too difficult to move in the narrow stall without bumping herself, and had taken up soaking in a bubble-filled tub instead. With Jean sufficiently occupied, Logan decided it was finally time to smoke that cigar; with all the shit that had been going on recently it was the only thing that relaxed him, the only thing that allowed him to escape from his problems and Jean and the emotional walls she'd put up around her heart.
~ * ~
Jean let out a sigh as the hot water started to ease some of the tension in her muscles. Her back had been achy all day, and the bath was definitely helping quench the pain. But to be honest, she'd been tense since her confrontation with Logan weeks ago. She hadn't meant any of the things she'd said to him, but she'd had to make him understand that they couldn't be together. There was too much at stake, too many people whose feelings came first--and the only way to make him see was to hurt him. She'd seen his hurt eyes every time she'd pushed him away or make a snide comment to his face--if only he knew how much it hurt her to see the agony in his eyes.
Noticing that the water was getting cool and her fingers were starting to prune, Jean stepped out of the tub and pulled the plug, letting her in-home relaxation parlor slurp slowly down the drain. After quickly drying off she dressed in a pair of Scott's sweats and wool socks, hoping the softness of the material would ease some of the ache out of her body. She had just settled down for Scott's mandatory nap when she felt it for the first time, a jarring pain in her back. Frowning slightly, she rolled over and went back to sleep, but it was back half an hour later, just as sharp and even more painful. Her medical mind flew into over drive and she realized what was happening--the baby was coming.
"Scott," she screamed, realizing too late that her rescue attempts were futile. Scott was currently in some seedy part of Manhattan battling prejudiced pugilists. "Scott," she screamed again. "Oh, God," she whispered. "What am I going to do?" Jean knew all about delivering babies--but other people's babies, not her own. "Okay, Jean" she breathed to herself, pacing her bedroom to ease the contractions. "You can do this. Remember 'The Good Earth'? She had her baby all by herself and went back into the fields minutes later. You're surrounded by high-tech medical equipment. You can--ah!" she screamed as another contraction hit. They were coming faster and faster and getting more painful as they progressed. If she didn't get to the Med-Lab soon she was going to be in serious trouble.
She struggled towards the Med-Lab, pausing to stop as each contraction hit. Suddenly she felt a rush of fluid between her legs and realized her water had just broke. It wouldn't be long until the baby was born.
"I'm going to die," she said out-loud. "I'm alone and in labor and I'm going to die. I can't do this alone; I need doctors and a hospital and epidurals and fetal monitors. I'm going to die." She had just started to pray to God for forgiveness for her sins when she felt strong arms surround her and a soft hand brush the sweaty hair off her face.
"Jean," she heard Logan ask, his voice soft with concern. "Jean, what's happening?"
"Logan!" she gasped, never so thankful to see someone before in her life. "Oh, thank god. Logan, I need you. I'm--ah!" she screamed in reaction to another contraction. They were only minutes apart now and she new she was severely dilated; it was time to get to the Med-Lab. "Logan, I'm in labor. I need you to help me."
"Labor?" he questioned, his eyes wide with shock. "But you're three weeks early. You can't be having the baby now--."
"Logan, if you don't get me to the Med-Lab now I'm going to have this baby in the hallway!"
"Okay!" he said, scooping her up into his arms and running towards the Med-Lab. "We're here," he said pushing the doors wide and depositing her on one of the cots. "What do I do? Boil water?" he joked.
"Hot water isn't all I need. Get blankets, one to catch the baby and another to wrap it in later. I need something to tie the umbilical cord and get sterile scissors to cut it," Jean ordered between contractions.
For the first time in his life Logan felt truly helpless; Jean's face was lined with pain and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was tempted to offer her Tylenol or Advil, but he knew neither would do anything to help the kind of pain she was in. She was sitting up in the bed, her knees drawn up and her legs spread. She was breathing the way women did in movies and screaming with each contraction. He hurried to get the supplies she needed before rushing back to her bedside. "Jean," he whispered, his own eyes wracked with pain. "What can I do to help you? To ease the pain?"
Jean forced a strained smile on her face, "It will be over soon; and it's worth it. I suffer a little pain, but I get one of life's miracles in the process. You just--." She screamed again and he knew something big was happening. "Logan, I think this is it. I need you to catch the baby when it's born."
Logan shook his head in agreement, and moved to the position Jean wanted him in. He knew he looked calm, but inside he was terrified. He knew how dangerous childbirth was, even in the best of hospitals--and while they had the best of equipment, the only one who knew how to use it was having the baby. She could die--and it would be on his hands. He could live with losing her, but he couldn't live if she died and he was responsible.
"Logan," Jean said weakly, catching one of his hands in hers. "I need you to focus, and listen to what I say. I know you're scared--" she smiled when he started to protest. "I can see it in your eyes; I know you're scared, but I need you to be strong for me. I can't do this alone."
He nodded and resumed his position. "I'm going to start pushing," Jean said slowly. "Watch for the baby's head. Make sure the umbilical cord isn't caught around its neck."
Logan couldn't take his eyes off the miracle occurring before his eyes. "Jean," he whispered, "I love you." He knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, but when faced with the prospect of never seeing her again, he needed to tell her how he truly felt. "I'll always love you. Don't leave me. Please God don't leave me."
She reached out and stroked his cheek with her fingers. "I'll never leave you. How could I leave you when I love you so? I don't care about Scott; I only care about you."
He smiled at her answer, a smile of pure masculine satisfaction, and turned back to his work. Jean started pushing again and the baby started working it's way out of her body. Jean was moaning and groaning; he wanted to help her, to hold her hand and smooth her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead, but he didn't dare leave the place he was. He couldn't risk something happening to his child.
The baby was smaller than he'd thought it would be and covered with a noxious looking fluid. But the child was beautiful--and loud. The kid hadn't started crying from the moment it had left it's mother's body. He caught the baby just like Jean had ordered him to and followed her instructions for tying and cutting the cord, and delivering the afterbirth.
Jean struggled to a sitting position, her body exhausted from the ordeal it had just gone through. "Logan, is the baby okay?" she questioned. "What is it? A boy or a girl?"
"A boy," Logan said shakily as he placed the bundle in Jean's arms. "A perfect little boy." He knelt next to her as she gazed at her son, unconsciously slipping an arm around her waist. She rested her forehead against his as they watched the baby open his eyes for the first time.
"He's beautiful, Logan," Jean breathed. "He's absolutely perfect."
Logan pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. "Perfect like his mother. Jean, I--"
Whatever he was saying was interrupted as the Med-Labs double doors were pushed open and Scott came flying through, still geared up for the mission. "Jean," he cried frantically. "What happened? We were in the middle of the mission and I got a telepathic distress signal over our link. You were in pain. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Scott," Jean answered, gesturing him over to the bed with a smile. "Come meet your son."
"My son!" Scott gasped. "But the baby isn't due for weeks--."
"He came a little early," Jean explained. Logan stepped back from the bed in shock. What happened to the tender moments they had shared in the wake of the baby's birth? Why was Jean so brutally turning her back on him? But one look from Jean's anguished eyes made him change his mind. He could see the pain and confusion there, the bitter battle between right by law and right in her heart. And being good, noble Jean Grey, she did what was expected of her, not what she wanted to do. He didn't want to cause her more pain, especially not now--so he stepped back and let Scott see his son.
"Logan, what are you doing here?" Scott asked, noticing Logan for the first time.
"Logan helped deliver the baby. If it wasn't for his help, we both might not be here today," Jean answered carefully, shooting Logan a tender smile that brimmed with love. That was all it took for the anger and frustration of the last few minutes to melt away; Jean was telling him she loved him--she just couldn't choose him over Scott.
"Well," Scott said, looking ashamed for the first time in Logan's considerable experience with him. "I owe you an apology. Thank you for helping Jean."
"I'd never let anything happen to Jeannie."
Scott nodded and turned back to his wife. "Have you named him yet, Jean? When should I send out the Scott Summers, Jr. birth announcements."
"Actually, Scott," Jean said. "I've chosen something different."
"But I thought that was what we decided on," Scott persisted.
"No, I don't think it's appropriate, considering the circumstances of his birth."
"So what would you name him instead?"
"Michael."
"Michael?"
"It's Hebrew. It means "gift from God". I can't think of a more precious gift than this child."
"And what about the middle name?"
"Logan. For the man's whose help made his life possible," Jean answered with a smile, and Logan couldn't help but smirk in response; it was ironic, Scott Summer's precious child was being named after his greatest enemy--and Logan had caught the implied meaning of Jean's carefully chosen words. "Michael Logan Summers."
Scott's face turned several shades of red, but he didn't argue with Jean. "I don't really care what his name is. I'm just glad he and his mother are both healthy." He shot a pointed look in Logan's direction, sending the basic message that it was time to leave.
"Jean, you need anything?" Logan asked before he left.
"No, I'm fine," she answered. Seeing that Scott was too engrossed in the baby to notice what she was doing, she mouthed "I love you" over the baby's head. "I'll see you later."
"Later," he said; he managed to keep his voice flat and devoid of emotion, but he couldn't prevent the smile that crept over his face.
~ * ~
It was late, the moon was rising and stars were twinkling in the black sky, but Logan knew Jean was awake. Scott was still telling the story of his son's birth to whoever would listen, so Logan took the opportunity to pay Jean a visit. Sure enough, she was sitting in bed, in her bedroom now, watching her sleeping son.
"Hey," he said, careful to keep his step light and not wake the baby. "How are you feeling?"
"Come here," Jean said, patting the bed beside her. He walked towards her and sat down.
"He's so small," Logan whispered.
"Do you want to hold him?"
Logan looked at her with surprised eyes. "Are you sure? What if I break him or something?"
Jean rolled her eyes. "You won't hurt him. Here," she added, gently placing the baby in his arms. "See, it's not so bad."
Logan couldn't speak, the force of holding his own flesh and blood having taken away his ability to talk. He didn't care what Jean said; one look at the baby and he knew it was his son. There was just something about Michael that brought back memories he didn't know existed, made him think of a childhood he couldn't remember.
"Are you mad?" Jean asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. "About the way I treated you before?"
Logan said nothing for a moment. "I'm not mad at you. I just wish things were different. I know you love me; I wish we didn't have to hide it."
"I know," Jean said with a sigh, running a finger over her son's silken cheek. The baby started to stir in Logan's arms and he quickly gave the boy back to his mother before he started to cry. Once in Jean's arms Michael calmed down and drifted back to sleep. "Will you stay here with me tonight?" Jean asked quietly, her voice uncertain. "I need you."
"What about Scott?"
"Scott's busy acting the "Proud Papa. Anyway, if he catches you, we'll just say you came to visit and fell asleep."
"Jean, I don't think it's a good idea. If Scott finds out it could be bad."
"Since when have you been afraid of Scott?"
"I'm not!" Logan said angrily. "But I don't want him getting angry with you."
"He won't," Jean assured him. "Just stay with me. Please?"
Logan couldn't say no. Jean scooted over a bit and he lay down beside her. One arm wrapped around the woman he loved, the other around the son he couldn't have.
~ * ~
It was snowing outside, the delicate flakes coating the New York landscape with a layer of frothy white. In a few hours the clock would strike twelve, the partygoers would ring in the new year, and make resolutions they had no intention of keeping. "Sort of like my life," Logan thought to himself. He continuously made promises: that he'd leave the mansion and carve a life for himself away from Jean; that he'd find someone new, move on with his life; that he'd give his heart away as freely as Jean wanted him to--but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't force himself to leave the masochistic hell of Charles' Xavier's sprawling mansion.
His eyes focused on the happy couple, Jean and Scott, celebrating not only the incoming year, but the birth of their first child, due in a month. Jean was breathtaking, a vision in sparkling white that hugged her curves and accentuated her extended abdomen. Scott stood beside her, beaming with masculine pride, as they greeted the couples and accepted congratulations on their incoming arrival. Jean's choice of color was ironic, but not particularly shocking; in the last few months she'd taken to going to church and saying bedtime prayers--her belated attempt to achieve redemption for her sins. Yet, as hard as she tried Logan knew she'd never find absolution--because she'd never truly believed what she was doing was wrong. How could she honestly find fault in loving someone?
"Jean, Scott, congratulations," he heard a female voice gush to the 'happy couple.' "You must be so excited--and thrilled," the woman continued.
"Thank you, Louisa," Jean replied. "Words can't describe how I feel."
"Very true," Logan thought. He doubted Louisa knew how it felt to pass of one man's child as another's.
"Have you decided on a name yet?" Louisa asked. "Or do you know if it's a boy or a girl."
"Well," Scott started, pumping out his chest as he spoke. "I like Rachel for a girl, and I think Scott Junior would be perfect for a boy, but--"
"We haven't really decided," Jean interrupted. "We want to keep it a surprise."
"Of course," Louisa commented. "Well, good luck." She drifted away, leaving a fuming Jean in her wake.
"Scott, how dare you?" Jean accused. "You know we haven't chosen a name yet!"
"You said you liked Scott Junior," he defended himself.
"I didn't say I didn't like it, Scott. But I never said that was what I wanted to name my child."
"I'm sorry. We'll decide on the name later, okay? Let's not fight at the party. We'll discuss this later."
"Fine," Jean said, pasting a smile on her face as Scott pulled her in for a kiss. To the casual observer they appeared to be the epitome of a happy, expecting couple--but Logan's carefully trained eye saw more, most notably that her smile had yet to reach her eyes.
"Jean, Scooter," Logan said as he approached the two. "Congratulations."
"Logan!" Jean cried. "I didn't think you'd be here; I hope you're enjoying the party."
"Came to wish the new parents the best."
"And now that you have, you can leave; you're not welcome at this party, Logan."
"Scott!" Jean exclaimed, placing a hand on his arm. "There's no need to be rude; Logan was simply being polite."
"There's always an ulterior motive where he's concerned--and it usually has something to do with you. I'm going to get a drink. Say what you have to say to Jean, Logan. I want you gone when I get back."
Jean looked at him with commiserating eyes, but they did nothing to soothe his anger. The last thing he wanted was her pity.
"I'm sorry about Scott's behavior," Jean explained. "He's been very uneasy the last few months; he has a lot on his mind, and he's worried about me and the baby."
"I don't care about Scooter. I only care about you."
"Logan, stop!" Jean hissed. "You can't talk like that here, not with all these people around. They'll get suspicious."
"You mean they'll figure out the truth."
"No, I mean they'll ruin my life, and the lives of everyone I care about--including you. Now tell me the truth; why are you really here?"
"To see you. You've been hiding, Jeannie."
Jean sucked in her breath at the nickname only he called her. "I've been very busy; winter always brings about a lot of accidents, and the students have been steadily twisting ankles and spraining wrists and--"
"Stop making excuses. You've been avoiding me."
"You make things. . .complicated."
"Complications are what makes life interestin'."
"Complications are something I can't afford. Thank you for your congratulations. Good-bye, Logan." She turned on her heel and walked away, quickly finding her husband in the crowd and linking arms with him. Logan could here her greet another group of well-wishes, her laughter carrying over the crowd.
Logan contemplated his situation. Maybe it was time to call it a night; after all, he wasn't getting anything accomplished at this party--accept a steady kick in the gut. He was about to leave when magnolia perfume filled his senses and the sharp clicking of spiked heels sounded to his left.
"Here sugah," Rogue said in her breathy, Southern drawl as she thrust a glass containing a smooth, amber liquid into his hand.
"What is this?" Logan asked as he sniffed the glass.
"Whiskey; Glen Livett. Tha finest from tha Highland's of Scotland. Ah know it ain't a permanent cure for a brokin' heart, but it should do the trick for a bit."
Logan looked down into Rogue's sympathetic eyes and pushed away the urge to snap at her. She honestly wasn't pitying him; she was trying to help. "Thanks," he said, downing the alcohol in one gulp. "Got anymore where this came from?"
She gave him a conspiratorial wink and led him towards a table where Remy, Hank of all people, and Bobby were playing some sort of drinking game.
"Logan, mon ami," Remy drawled, his Cajun accent more pronounced in his slightly inebriated state. "Ya any good at quarters? Da' Doc an' Bobby are killin' me."
Logan knew he shouldn't spend the night getting drunk at Jean's party; but when faced with the alternative of watching Scott and Jean play house and throw their pregnancy in his face, getting blazed out of his mind seemed like a pretty good idea. Like Rogue had said: it wasn't a permanent cure for unrequited love, but it would make the night a little easier to get through.
"Gumbo, you've got a partner. Let's show these kid's what it means to drink."
~ * ~
"Logan, why do you do this to yourself?" Jean asked a few hours later as she pulled off his shoes. The four men had achieved their goal and gotten thoroughly smashed, leaving an amused Rogue, an embarrassed Ororo, and a furious Jean the job of getting them to bed. Scott had grudgingly carried Logan up the stairs, only to dump him unceremoniously on his bed and storm out of the room, leaving Jean to ensure he didn't fall getting into bed.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Logan whispered. With surprising gentleness he brushed her cheek with his knuckles; Jean unconsciously turned into the caress, her breathing quickening as her skin made contact with his. "You're like an angel," Logan continued. "My angel, sent to Earth to protect me. You say you hate me, Jeannie, but I know you're lyin'; you'd never let anyone hurt me. An' I feel the same; you're mine Jeannie, now and forever. Scott may have you according to the laws of the land, but I have you by the laws of the heart. Body and soul, you'll always be mine."
Jean felt her heartbeat accelerate at Logan's beautiful words; she hated when he talked like that--because it made her believe she and Logan had chance when she knew there was nothing left for them. "Logan, stop talking. You're drunk; you don't know what you're talking about."
"I know I love you--and that you love me. And even if you stay married to Scott for the rest of your life, you'll die knowing you loved another man--and you let him go."
Jean pulled out of Logan's embrace and dropped his shoes on the floor. "Goodnight, Logan," she said flatly. "I left Aspirin on your night table. When you wake up tomorrow with a bitch of hangover don't come to my lab. You know what?" she said, her voice angry now. "Don't see me at all. I told you, all you are is a complication, a problem. And I don't need problems in my life. And I don't love you, not anymore. I love my husband and my baby and the family we're creating together. So stay away from me; away from me and away from Scott, and away from my baby!" Jean stormed out of the room, angrily slamming the door behind her.
Logan attempted to follow her, but stumbled in his drunken state and narrowly caught himself from falling over and banging his head against the desk chair. He cursed when he realized he couldn't do anything to solve the problem in his current state. "Tomorrow, I'll fix this," he assured himself. By then he'd be sober and calmer and ready to make up with Jean. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, knowing things would be all better in the morning.
~ * ~
Things weren't better though. It had been two weeks since his fight with Jean, and she'd gone through with her threat: she avoided him at all costs and went out of her way to stay away from him when they were forced to be in the same room together. He wanted to leave again; being away from Jean was hard, but being near her and unable to touch her was worse. And he would leave--if it wasn't for his students. Somehow, in the last few months, his group of ragged, hard-edged juvenile delinquents had found a place in his heart. Jean had told him it would happen, that in the course of a short time the students would worm their way inside and get under his skin--and they had. They counted on him for advice, both in weightlifting and muscle training, but also about life in general. He'd never thought he'd be dishing out love advice, not when his own love life was so screwed up, but when the first boy had come to him and shyly questioned how to ask out a girl, he'd become a male Dr. Ruth.
But now the mansion was quiet, empty. The students had a month off from Christmas to the end of January, and the Professor had insisted that every student leave the mansion's premises, something about the student's getting a break from school and its environment. Even those without parents or the means to travel were given a fully-paid trip to the Massachusetts Academy during break. Even the team's standard members had disappeared: Remy and Rogue had taken the children to New Orleans to introduce Dominique to the Thieves Guild; Warren and Betsey were skiing in Aspen; even Hank and the Professor had fled to a medical conference in Washington, DC. That left himself, Jean, Scott, Ororo, and Bobby at the mansion to battle the increasingly active Friends of Humanity. He was just on his way to the roof to smoke a cigar when raised voices broke through the utter silence of the empty house. Logan crept silently around a corner to find Scott, suited up for a mission, and Jean arguing in the hallway.
"Jean, I don't have to go on this mission," Scott said, his voice carrying through the mansion. "Storm is just as capable as I am; she can lead."
"No, Scott," Jean argued. "You need to be there. Our numbers are already down because so many people are out of town; we can't afford to lose another team member. If we're going to run a skeleton crew, you need to go."
"But I can't, Jean. Not when you're so close to your due date."
"Scott," Jean said, her voice taking on that soothing quality she always used when she wanted to win a fight. "I'll be fine; the hospital is close by. This mission is too important for you not to go."
"Jean--"
"Scott, that Friends of Humanity base must be shut down. You need to go."
"Okay," Scott relented, pulling Jean into his arms for a hug. "But I want you to rest while I'm gone. Can you promise me you'll do that?"
"I promise," Jean said, snuggling closer into Scott's arms. "Good luck, Scott. Come home safe, okay?"
"As good as new," he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss. "Now you get to bed; I want you rested when I get back." Jean waved goodbye as she headed down the hall towards their bedroom. Scott turned and walked in the direction of the Blackbird hanger where Logan knew Storm and the rest of the team were waiting for instructions.
Once Scott was gone, Logan took off in the direction of Jean's bedroom, just to make sure she was okay. As he approached the room he could smell apples and cinnamon, signaling that Jean was taking another of her bubble baths; she'd given up showers a month ago when it had become too difficult to move in the narrow stall without bumping herself, and had taken up soaking in a bubble-filled tub instead. With Jean sufficiently occupied, Logan decided it was finally time to smoke that cigar; with all the shit that had been going on recently it was the only thing that relaxed him, the only thing that allowed him to escape from his problems and Jean and the emotional walls she'd put up around her heart.
~ * ~
Jean let out a sigh as the hot water started to ease some of the tension in her muscles. Her back had been achy all day, and the bath was definitely helping quench the pain. But to be honest, she'd been tense since her confrontation with Logan weeks ago. She hadn't meant any of the things she'd said to him, but she'd had to make him understand that they couldn't be together. There was too much at stake, too many people whose feelings came first--and the only way to make him see was to hurt him. She'd seen his hurt eyes every time she'd pushed him away or make a snide comment to his face--if only he knew how much it hurt her to see the agony in his eyes.
Noticing that the water was getting cool and her fingers were starting to prune, Jean stepped out of the tub and pulled the plug, letting her in-home relaxation parlor slurp slowly down the drain. After quickly drying off she dressed in a pair of Scott's sweats and wool socks, hoping the softness of the material would ease some of the ache out of her body. She had just settled down for Scott's mandatory nap when she felt it for the first time, a jarring pain in her back. Frowning slightly, she rolled over and went back to sleep, but it was back half an hour later, just as sharp and even more painful. Her medical mind flew into over drive and she realized what was happening--the baby was coming.
"Scott," she screamed, realizing too late that her rescue attempts were futile. Scott was currently in some seedy part of Manhattan battling prejudiced pugilists. "Scott," she screamed again. "Oh, God," she whispered. "What am I going to do?" Jean knew all about delivering babies--but other people's babies, not her own. "Okay, Jean" she breathed to herself, pacing her bedroom to ease the contractions. "You can do this. Remember 'The Good Earth'? She had her baby all by herself and went back into the fields minutes later. You're surrounded by high-tech medical equipment. You can--ah!" she screamed as another contraction hit. They were coming faster and faster and getting more painful as they progressed. If she didn't get to the Med-Lab soon she was going to be in serious trouble.
She struggled towards the Med-Lab, pausing to stop as each contraction hit. Suddenly she felt a rush of fluid between her legs and realized her water had just broke. It wouldn't be long until the baby was born.
"I'm going to die," she said out-loud. "I'm alone and in labor and I'm going to die. I can't do this alone; I need doctors and a hospital and epidurals and fetal monitors. I'm going to die." She had just started to pray to God for forgiveness for her sins when she felt strong arms surround her and a soft hand brush the sweaty hair off her face.
"Jean," she heard Logan ask, his voice soft with concern. "Jean, what's happening?"
"Logan!" she gasped, never so thankful to see someone before in her life. "Oh, thank god. Logan, I need you. I'm--ah!" she screamed in reaction to another contraction. They were only minutes apart now and she new she was severely dilated; it was time to get to the Med-Lab. "Logan, I'm in labor. I need you to help me."
"Labor?" he questioned, his eyes wide with shock. "But you're three weeks early. You can't be having the baby now--."
"Logan, if you don't get me to the Med-Lab now I'm going to have this baby in the hallway!"
"Okay!" he said, scooping her up into his arms and running towards the Med-Lab. "We're here," he said pushing the doors wide and depositing her on one of the cots. "What do I do? Boil water?" he joked.
"Hot water isn't all I need. Get blankets, one to catch the baby and another to wrap it in later. I need something to tie the umbilical cord and get sterile scissors to cut it," Jean ordered between contractions.
For the first time in his life Logan felt truly helpless; Jean's face was lined with pain and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was tempted to offer her Tylenol or Advil, but he knew neither would do anything to help the kind of pain she was in. She was sitting up in the bed, her knees drawn up and her legs spread. She was breathing the way women did in movies and screaming with each contraction. He hurried to get the supplies she needed before rushing back to her bedside. "Jean," he whispered, his own eyes wracked with pain. "What can I do to help you? To ease the pain?"
Jean forced a strained smile on her face, "It will be over soon; and it's worth it. I suffer a little pain, but I get one of life's miracles in the process. You just--." She screamed again and he knew something big was happening. "Logan, I think this is it. I need you to catch the baby when it's born."
Logan shook his head in agreement, and moved to the position Jean wanted him in. He knew he looked calm, but inside he was terrified. He knew how dangerous childbirth was, even in the best of hospitals--and while they had the best of equipment, the only one who knew how to use it was having the baby. She could die--and it would be on his hands. He could live with losing her, but he couldn't live if she died and he was responsible.
"Logan," Jean said weakly, catching one of his hands in hers. "I need you to focus, and listen to what I say. I know you're scared--" she smiled when he started to protest. "I can see it in your eyes; I know you're scared, but I need you to be strong for me. I can't do this alone."
He nodded and resumed his position. "I'm going to start pushing," Jean said slowly. "Watch for the baby's head. Make sure the umbilical cord isn't caught around its neck."
Logan couldn't take his eyes off the miracle occurring before his eyes. "Jean," he whispered, "I love you." He knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, but when faced with the prospect of never seeing her again, he needed to tell her how he truly felt. "I'll always love you. Don't leave me. Please God don't leave me."
She reached out and stroked his cheek with her fingers. "I'll never leave you. How could I leave you when I love you so? I don't care about Scott; I only care about you."
He smiled at her answer, a smile of pure masculine satisfaction, and turned back to his work. Jean started pushing again and the baby started working it's way out of her body. Jean was moaning and groaning; he wanted to help her, to hold her hand and smooth her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead, but he didn't dare leave the place he was. He couldn't risk something happening to his child.
The baby was smaller than he'd thought it would be and covered with a noxious looking fluid. But the child was beautiful--and loud. The kid hadn't started crying from the moment it had left it's mother's body. He caught the baby just like Jean had ordered him to and followed her instructions for tying and cutting the cord, and delivering the afterbirth.
Jean struggled to a sitting position, her body exhausted from the ordeal it had just gone through. "Logan, is the baby okay?" she questioned. "What is it? A boy or a girl?"
"A boy," Logan said shakily as he placed the bundle in Jean's arms. "A perfect little boy." He knelt next to her as she gazed at her son, unconsciously slipping an arm around her waist. She rested her forehead against his as they watched the baby open his eyes for the first time.
"He's beautiful, Logan," Jean breathed. "He's absolutely perfect."
Logan pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. "Perfect like his mother. Jean, I--"
Whatever he was saying was interrupted as the Med-Labs double doors were pushed open and Scott came flying through, still geared up for the mission. "Jean," he cried frantically. "What happened? We were in the middle of the mission and I got a telepathic distress signal over our link. You were in pain. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Scott," Jean answered, gesturing him over to the bed with a smile. "Come meet your son."
"My son!" Scott gasped. "But the baby isn't due for weeks--."
"He came a little early," Jean explained. Logan stepped back from the bed in shock. What happened to the tender moments they had shared in the wake of the baby's birth? Why was Jean so brutally turning her back on him? But one look from Jean's anguished eyes made him change his mind. He could see the pain and confusion there, the bitter battle between right by law and right in her heart. And being good, noble Jean Grey, she did what was expected of her, not what she wanted to do. He didn't want to cause her more pain, especially not now--so he stepped back and let Scott see his son.
"Logan, what are you doing here?" Scott asked, noticing Logan for the first time.
"Logan helped deliver the baby. If it wasn't for his help, we both might not be here today," Jean answered carefully, shooting Logan a tender smile that brimmed with love. That was all it took for the anger and frustration of the last few minutes to melt away; Jean was telling him she loved him--she just couldn't choose him over Scott.
"Well," Scott said, looking ashamed for the first time in Logan's considerable experience with him. "I owe you an apology. Thank you for helping Jean."
"I'd never let anything happen to Jeannie."
Scott nodded and turned back to his wife. "Have you named him yet, Jean? When should I send out the Scott Summers, Jr. birth announcements."
"Actually, Scott," Jean said. "I've chosen something different."
"But I thought that was what we decided on," Scott persisted.
"No, I don't think it's appropriate, considering the circumstances of his birth."
"So what would you name him instead?"
"Michael."
"Michael?"
"It's Hebrew. It means "gift from God". I can't think of a more precious gift than this child."
"And what about the middle name?"
"Logan. For the man's whose help made his life possible," Jean answered with a smile, and Logan couldn't help but smirk in response; it was ironic, Scott Summer's precious child was being named after his greatest enemy--and Logan had caught the implied meaning of Jean's carefully chosen words. "Michael Logan Summers."
Scott's face turned several shades of red, but he didn't argue with Jean. "I don't really care what his name is. I'm just glad he and his mother are both healthy." He shot a pointed look in Logan's direction, sending the basic message that it was time to leave.
"Jean, you need anything?" Logan asked before he left.
"No, I'm fine," she answered. Seeing that Scott was too engrossed in the baby to notice what she was doing, she mouthed "I love you" over the baby's head. "I'll see you later."
"Later," he said; he managed to keep his voice flat and devoid of emotion, but he couldn't prevent the smile that crept over his face.
~ * ~
It was late, the moon was rising and stars were twinkling in the black sky, but Logan knew Jean was awake. Scott was still telling the story of his son's birth to whoever would listen, so Logan took the opportunity to pay Jean a visit. Sure enough, she was sitting in bed, in her bedroom now, watching her sleeping son.
"Hey," he said, careful to keep his step light and not wake the baby. "How are you feeling?"
"Come here," Jean said, patting the bed beside her. He walked towards her and sat down.
"He's so small," Logan whispered.
"Do you want to hold him?"
Logan looked at her with surprised eyes. "Are you sure? What if I break him or something?"
Jean rolled her eyes. "You won't hurt him. Here," she added, gently placing the baby in his arms. "See, it's not so bad."
Logan couldn't speak, the force of holding his own flesh and blood having taken away his ability to talk. He didn't care what Jean said; one look at the baby and he knew it was his son. There was just something about Michael that brought back memories he didn't know existed, made him think of a childhood he couldn't remember.
"Are you mad?" Jean asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. "About the way I treated you before?"
Logan said nothing for a moment. "I'm not mad at you. I just wish things were different. I know you love me; I wish we didn't have to hide it."
"I know," Jean said with a sigh, running a finger over her son's silken cheek. The baby started to stir in Logan's arms and he quickly gave the boy back to his mother before he started to cry. Once in Jean's arms Michael calmed down and drifted back to sleep. "Will you stay here with me tonight?" Jean asked quietly, her voice uncertain. "I need you."
"What about Scott?"
"Scott's busy acting the "Proud Papa. Anyway, if he catches you, we'll just say you came to visit and fell asleep."
"Jean, I don't think it's a good idea. If Scott finds out it could be bad."
"Since when have you been afraid of Scott?"
"I'm not!" Logan said angrily. "But I don't want him getting angry with you."
"He won't," Jean assured him. "Just stay with me. Please?"
Logan couldn't say no. Jean scooted over a bit and he lay down beside her. One arm wrapped around the woman he loved, the other around the son he couldn't have.