Chapter 4: Preparing
He grabbed her shoulders, not quite believing his ears. "What? Sara, yer—havin'—twins—"
She nodded, grinning ear to ear, sadness gone. "I'm going to have twins. I went and had a sonogram done. One's a boy and one's a girl. They'll be here in five more months."
"Five—five—months?" Logan felt like he'd fallen down a rabbit hole.
She hugged him. "I'm four months pregnant already. I didn't even know."
"I'm gonna be a dad," Logan whispered to himself. "I'm gonna be a dad!" He grabbed Sara, swinging her around in a huge circle. "I'm gonna be a dad!"
The news spread like wildfire around the mansion, so by the time Sara was ready to make the official announcement over dinner, everyone already knew.
"So which rooms are you guys going to want?" Jean asked.
"Rooms?" Sara looked puzzled.
"Well, you're going to want a separate room for the kids," Scott grinned. "You don't want them to be waking you up all the time at night. The servants' apartment you're living in now won't be big enough for four."
"Oh, dear. I hadn't thought of that," Sara looked distressed.
"And if you choose a room up here with the rest of us, Sara, we can share midnight feeding duties with you," Storm said.
Sara looked a little uncertain. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"Of course!" Jean said. "Sara, that's what happens when you live with us. Your business becomes ours. Look, there's a small suite right between our room and Storm's. There's an outer room and a smaller inner one. We could probably put a door in between so you and Logan can have your privacy in the inner room, and we could pop in and out at night and take care of the babies for you. Let's go see it after dinner."
So they did, and Sara and Logan both agreed that it was perfect for their room and a nursery. Full of enthusiasm and still excited, the X-Men helped Sara and Logan to move their things in the same evening. They were all standing around the room trying to figure out where the cribs would go when Gambit piped up. "What you gon' name de kids? You havin' a boy an' a girl, right?"
"Joshua and Catherine," Sara said at the same time that Logan said, "Charles and Megan." They looked at each other.
The others rolled their eyes and left as Logan and Sara began to argue about names. "Charles I can see," Sara said, "But where did Megan come from?"
"That's yer middle name," Logan answered. "An' I like it." He thought for a moment. "Why Joshua and Catherine?"
"Catherine was my mother's name," she said. "And my half-brother's name was Joshua; my mother's first child. He died in a car accident when I was ten."
"Oh." Logan was silent. "How 'bout Joshua Charles, then?"
"Okay," Sara said. "And Logan? I do like Megan. How about Megan Catherine?"
"I like that," And Logan kissed her. One thing led to another, and before long they were in their room, in the bed.
Scott sat upright, blinking. He'd been just about to fall asleep when a wave of heat had washed over him, and he suddenly found himself aching. Jean sat up also, staring into space, then she giggled and rolled over. "It's Logan and Sara," she chuckled. "I have to teach her how to shield while she's having fun."
"Shield?" Scott asked, his mind so fogged by the waves of heat coming from the room next to theirs that he couldn't think straight.
"The Metara taught her mind how to use its telepathy," Jean said, sitting up and wrapping her bare arms around her husband. "Charles thinks she's always had telepathy to a certain degree, that's how she knows which wounds are serious on her patients and which aren't. Her mind just didn't know how to use it until the Metara took control and showed her how."
"Oh," Scott blinked. He couldn't concentrate on anything right now except his wife's chest pressed against his bare back.
Jean giggled. "Well, if that's all you can think of," she murmured, tugging at his earlobe with her teeth, "maybe we should--"
He growled in mock ferociousness and grabbed her, rolling her over in the sheets.
Storm, in the room next to them, was having less of a good time. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she got up and tossed on a light robe, opened and closed her door quietly so as not to disturb the two couples, and glided as quietly as possible down the corridor. She was stopped by a quiet mental command outside Xavier's study door, and knocked gently before she entered. "Couldn't sleep either, Charles?"
"It's a bit difficult with the 'noise' in the mental background," he said dryly. "I'm going to have to get Jean to teach Sara how to 'shield' while they're…enjoying themselves. Sara's latent telepathy was 'awakened' by the Metara; I had no idea this would be the result. We never had this problem with Jean and Scott."
Storm snorted delicately. "That you know of."
He looked at her, startled. Storm chuckled. "Charles, I have been rooming beside them since I joined the team, except when they lived in the boathouse. The...revelry…tended to leak out every now and then. A word to Jean in the evening would remind her to shield, but when I forgot, well…" she smiled wickedly. "A light rainstorm in their bedroom over the bed tended to…dampen…things sufficiently."
Xavier was torn between laughter and embarrassment. "I never knew you were that uncomfortable, Ororo," he said. "Why did you never tell me?"
She shrugged. "We were all deriving a great deal of enjoyment from Jean and Scott's discomfiture when they had to change their bed sheets in the middle of the night," she cast him a merrily wicked grin. "And it was good practice in controlling my powers."
Xavier cocked his head, 'listening' to the mental currents. "I believe they are done now," he said.
"Then I shall go to bed. Good night, Charles."
"Good night, Ororo," and he sat for a long moment, shaking his head, as the door closed softly behind her.
Sara bounced down the stairs the next morning, bright-eyed and happy. "No sickness!" she exclaimed happily to Jean. "The pills worked."
Jean seized her arm and pulled her aside, into the empty dining room. "You and Logan are adults, and your business is your own, but could you please shield your room when you and Logan…get physical?"
Sara stared at her. "I haven't got the slightest idea what on earth you're talking about," she said.
Storm slipped in. "Sara, if you do not wish to be changing your bed sheets in the middle of the night, you had best shield your room."
Jean explained. Sara's eyes grew wide when she finished. "Oh my," she moaned in embarrassment. "I didn't know. I'm sorry, please excuse me!" She looked beseechingly at Storm. "You wouldn't make it rain on us, would you?"
Jean laughed out loud. "Yes she would! Sara, you've no idea how many times she did it to Scott and I!"
They were both laughing at Sara's uncomfortable look when Xavier's mental call came ringing through their heads, and it had an odd, unpleasant feel to it. Sara, there are some men here that want to talk to you. They're detectives, investigating Richard's death.
Sara went pale. Say nothing. Act as if you don't know what happened. Don't forget to turn on your image inducer. Seconds later the door to the dining room opened, and two men in suits walked in, followed by Xavier, in a regular wheelchair. "This is Sara Michaels, Detectives. Sara, these two are investigating Richard's death."
Sara's face was composed, but the two women could feel her muscles tighten in apprehension. Jean brushed her arm as she got up, and Sara immediately felt a calming wave flood her mind. She shot a grateful look at Jean as the redhead went through the kitchen door, and her nascent telepathic sense picked up the presence behind the door of Logan, Scott, Ororo, Jean, Betsy, and Warren listening.
"Ma'am, we're very sorry to have to do this," one man started. "We're investigating the death of the late Senator Ryan. I assume you've heard of his demise?"
"Yes," Sara said coolly. "I don't regret he died, Detective. I wish I had killed him, after all he'd done to me, but I didn't. And as far as I'm concerned, whoever did do it has my thanks."
"You didn't do it?"
"Of course not, Detective."
"That's what I thought," said the second man. "However…is this yours, Ma'am?" he said, handing her a picture of a long sword.
Sara blinked. "Yes it is," she said. "A gift to me from some friends long ago."
"Have you ever had it sharpened?" he asked her. Griffin, said his name badge.
"No," she said. "Why? Give it an edge for Richard to hurt me even worse with?" Her voice was ice.
"What's your blood type?" the first detective, Capalletti, asked.
"A-negative," Sara replied.
"Ma'am, we found your husband's body decapitated by a sharp instrument," Griffin said. "A very sharp instrument. Something like a sword. We took yours to the forensics office, and it had both yours and your husband's fingerprints on it, and some bloodstains on the grip. The blood--"
"Yes, the blood's mine," she said, looking down and clenching her fists in her lap to stop them from shaking. "He did…things…to me with it. I don't want to go into details, detectives. The papers have written enough stories about what he did to me to fill a book. I don't know where they get their information, but they happen to be mostly true."
"It wasn't the sword that killed him, Ma'am," said Griffin, gently. "His windpipe was crushed by a tremendous amount of pressure. The hacking up was done post-mortem. Do you have any idea who would be strong enough to do that?"
"No, I don't," Sara said, her heart thumping in her chest so loud she wondered that they didn't hear it. She hadn't killed Richard. Someone else did. And she knew, somehow, with a bone-deep conviction, that it had been Gero who had killed Ryan. She felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off her chest, a weight of guilt and sorrow. She hadn't killed her husband.
"We'll be in touch, Ma'am," said Detective Capalletti. He handed her his card. "If you think of anyone who might have done this, please give me a call." She nodded numbly, and they left.
"You didn't do it!" Jean exclaimed as the listeners piled into the dining room, and Sara switched off her image inducer. Xavier joined them soon afterward, having showed the detectives out of the mansion and retrieved his usual hoverchair. "You didn't kill him! Sara, do you have any idea who did?"
"Gero," Sara said, thinking aloud as Logan wrapped a comforting arm around her. "It has to have been Gero. I remember hearing Richard scream in the warehouse as Koven was skinning me. I was in too much pain to remember it, though."
"Well, you didn't do it. That's settled, then. Come on, Sara, let's eat breakfast, and then we have to go shopping!"
"Shopping?" she looked surprised.
"We haveta get the nursery ready, sugah," Rogue drawled. "Curtains, toys, and cribs, and all th' other stuff ya need fer the babies."
"Oh, gosh! I didn't think about all that!" she exclaimed.
They all went, even the guys. Sara chose two cribs, one in a blond wood finish, one in white, and Josh's crib bedding was pale blue with fluffy white clouds and yellow airplanes on it. Megan's crib bedding was in pink, with lavender and yellow butterflies. The women cooed over the bedding sets so much that the guys turned and left the baby store. When they finally got out, they were met by the sight of the guys sitting smugly in their cars, with Logan's pickup stuffed full. Sara gasped as she looked in the back; paint, wall borders, a nightlight, and, Logan's surprise for her, a lovely big rocking chair.
Upon their return, they immediately set to work. The walls were painted a sunny yellow, the hardwood floor was covered with a plush, thick carpet of pale beige, and borders of teddy bears were put up along the walls. The rocking chair was placed in the corner, the changing table was put along the opposite wall of the room, and the guys were in the process of assembling the cribs when the doorbell downstairs dinged. Scott went to answer it. Seconds later, there were thudding feet on the steps, and six uniformed policemen burst into the room. Detective Capalletti led them.
"Sara Michaels, you are under arrest for the murder of your ex-husband, Richard Ryan," he said without preamble, taking out his handcuffs and clasping them around her wrists. "You have the right to remain silent--"
"But I didn't do it!" Sara cried, her heart sinking as the men moved off into hers and Logan's bedroom. "I didn't do it, why are you doing this, oh, God…" She started to sob as the officers rifled through her drawers, tossing clothing and her personal items all over the room, and ransacking the drawers belonging to Logan, too.
"Officers," Xavier came in, in his wheelchair and looking thoroughly angry, 'unless you have a warrant--"
Capalletti handed him the warrant. "We just got it this afternoon," he said icily. "This," he handed over another paper, "is a warrant for her arrest. We've received information that she is an accomplished swordswoman, and could very well be hiding a sword here. Please step aside, sir," he said. He walked out of the room, half-dragging the sobbing Sara, as Logan looked after her in anguish, standing amidst the shambles of their room.
