In the darkness of the abandoned recreation room, Ororo Munroe sobbed into the blanket that she had cocooned herself in as she watched the news report on the funeral from which she had returned hours ago. She cared not to remember it, but the memories came nonetheless. The priest's monotonous, flat voice as he spoke of a God that was completely foreign to Ororo, a God whom she could not possibly believe cared at all for those here on earth. Hank, lying so still in his coffin, surrounded by flowers and relics of his life that various people had placed alongside his body for him to be buried with.

She had borrowed a pen and a sheet of paper from the miniature notebook that she knew that Kitty Pryde carried with her at all times and hastily scribbled a note that was soon rendered nearly illegible by the tears that fell upon the paper and smeared the ink. When she was finished, she held it away from her face to read.

Not a day will ever go by when I don't think of you and remember all that we shared. My heart will never cease to weep for you, and my love will never wane.

Short and simple, but all that she had been able to compose with her hand shaking and her heart racing. She felt as though all eyes were on her as she strolled up to the coffin and tucked the folded piece of paper under one of the sleeves of Hank's jacket, then kissed her fingertips and placed them on his lips. The thought of how life-like he looked struck her; for an instant, she thought that she could still see vitality in his cerulean cheeks, but she quickly banished such notions from her head. Hank was gone; all that remained of him was what he had left with Ororo.

Now, curled up on the sofa that had been worn by years of children jumping, playing, and reclining all over it, thoughts of what could have been haunted her. She saw Hank holding their newborn son or daughter in his strong arms, love shining in his eyes, and it made her heart sink. Tears blurred her view of the television screen as the report on Hank's funeral gave way to a story about another bombing in Baghdad.

So lost in herself was Ororo that she failed to notice the second presence in the room until the intruder cleared his throat. With a start, she turned and rose to meet him, her eyes growing wide as she took in his tall, unshaven and unkempt form. Brushing the tears from her eyes, she attempted speech.

"Logan," she managed to croak out, "You…came back."

"Came home," he amended and then added, "I…umm…I heard about…Hank."

"How?" she asked.

"I was in some dive up in Oregon when I saw it on the news. Didn't give very many details. I had to come back, see if everyone was all right," he informed her. She sighed and looked at him with hard eyes, the kind of expression he knew so well. "I'm trying to look brave and strong so that you won't see how torn I really am on the inside," that's what those eyes said to him every time she flashed them.

"And what, exactly, is your definition of 'all right'?" she asked, her tone putting him on the defensive.

"You know, you're the main reason I came back," he spat bitterly, "I had no idea whether or not you were with him when he was shot. I had to make sure that you were still alive."

"Well, I am, and yes, Logan, I was with him when he died. He died protecting me, shielding me from the three bullets that ended up embedded inside of him, including the one that went straight through his body into his heart, the one that killed him. I saw everything; I felt everything," she said, her voice breaking and the sobs coming once again.

"Aww, Jesus, Ororo, I'm sorry," he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, but she quickly wriggled out of his grip.

"Jesus," she rolled the name over on her tongue, "They talked a lot about him during the funeral. Something about how he died for the sins of mankind, how he and their God watch over all of God's children. I don't believe a word of it."

He was silent as he watched her turn away and go back to the couch, burying herself beneath the blankets.

"For what it's worth, I never did, either," he whispered. When she looked up at him, her eyes were softened, and the look on her face was almost pleading. Logan crossed over to the sofa and lowered himself onto the cushion. She curled her legs up to her chest, moving them so that he would have more room to sit.

"Would you have come back if you hadn't heard about Hank?" she asked, her eyes riveted on the soft pattern of the blanket over her.

"Yes," he answered without the slightest bit of hesitation, "Do you even have to ask? You're all that I have, Ororo, all that I know. I can't be away from you for too long."

"I betrayed you, Logan," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. He folded his hands together in his lap and looked down, not saying a word.

"Yeah, you did," he finally managed to affirm, "but I forgive you. What else can I do? I love you; you're all that I want."

"No, Logan," Ororo sobbed, "You don't know how badly I betrayed you, you don't…you won't want me after I tell you…"

"Tell me what?" he asked, attempting to take her hand in his. She shook her head and pulled away from his grip. Biting her lower lip, she fished around in her mind for the right words, trying to gather up the courage to tell Logan what she hadn't been able to say to Hank.

"I…I'm…" she stammered, looking away from him and talking instead to the television, "I'm pregnant, Logan. The doctor says that I'm about five weeks along. With a time span like that, the baby can only be Hank's."

Ororo turned back to assess the damage that she had just done to him. He was staring at her, his mouth open in an O of surprise. She had been steeling herself for his anger, expecting that at any moment he would be yelling and running around the room breaking everything that could possibly be smashed or shattered, but instead, she saw tears rising to the surface of his hazel eyes. Closing her eyes against her own pain, she decided to bombard him with the rest of the news, while she was on a roll.

"I'm keeping it, Logan. I want this child, not because its mine, but because it's Hank's, and he was a great man who deserved to have a legacy. Now I'm the only one who can provide that."

"You…you slept with him?" he asked, obviously trying to hold back his emotions. She hid her face in her hands, waves of shame sweeping over her. Ororo felt her disgust with herself in the form of the nausea that rose up in her stomach, making its way to her throat and causing her to choke. Logan jumped whenever she threw the blankets from her and stood up.

"Oh, Goddess, I'm…going to…" she covered her mouth with one hand and ran into the small restroom that connected to the rec. room. He followed her, half out of curiosity and half out of the desire to make sure that she made it safely, not tripping over anything in the dark. Her hands shook with her sobs of guilt and the pain in her abdomen, and she struggled with the doorknob, finally managing to open it and not even having time to turn on the restroom's dim light before spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Logan flipped the switch for her and stood in the doorway, watching her vomit. He couldn't help but feel pity for her, doubled over in pain, barely able to catch her breath from one wave of illness before another overtook her. Then he remembered that Ororo wasn't sick, that this was only a temporary thing for her, the result of her union with another man, and his heart hardened just the slightest bit. Still, he made his way into the small room, flushing the toilet for her after she slumped against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes filled with tears.

"Sometimes I'm not too sure that this is really what I want," she choked out, beckoning Logan to sit down next to her on the floor. Reluctantly, he obliged, leaning against the wall opposite her with not even enough room to stretch his legs without hitting her. In breathless anticipation, he waited for her next words.

"At times, I catch myself thinking, 'I don't have to go through this; it's not too late to…'" she caught herself there, and shivered before continuing, "And then I feel like such a horrid person for even thinking of it, especially when I remember Hank. I owe this to him, Logan. No matter how much it hurts me, or you, or anyone else, I have to do it."

"He shouldn't be your only reason for carrying this baby, Ororo," he startled her with his words, and she gave him a look that demanded an explanation, "You shouldn't put yourself through this unless you want it. You're right about Hank; even I have to admit that he did some great things in his life, but it was never your obligation to carry on his line, and it isn't now. He's gone, and I know that it hurts you, but have you really thought this over? Do you really want this baby, Ororo, for yourself and not for him?"

Once more, she looked away from him, and, for the first time in quite a while, she was forced to put herself before everyone else, to look inside her own soul. He watched her all the while, her quivering lips and the heaving of her chest, wondering what was going on inside of her head, and how much she'd be willing to share with him. Finally, she arrived at her answer.

"Yes," she said, her voice low with resignation, telling him that her words were the truth, "I do want it, Logan. But…I…I don't know if I can. I don't know if I'll be able to do this alone." Ororo turned her face to him, waiting to see that old familiar agony in the eyes that she'd come to know and love so well, but, instead, a smile lingered on his face, and he reached for her hand again. This time, she let him take it; let him hold it in his.

"Then you won't be alone. I'll be here with you," he nodded as he said this, reaching a hand out to her. Instead of taking it, she scooted across the floor to fall into his arms. When he took her in his embrace, he realized that she was shivering, whether from the illness or from nerves, he did not know.

"You should get upstairs to bed," he told her, "It's late and you need your rest."

"I don't want to let go of you," she admitted in a whisper, "I don't want to end this."

He grunted as he rose from the floor, pulling her body up with his and lifting her from the ground. Such a familiar gesture, she thought to herself, leaning into him and shifting her weight so that she'd be easier to carry.

"I missed you," she yawned, exhaustion already beginning to cloud her brain, "I love you."