James was exhausting, but Jean was happy. To see him smile for the first time, to pick his head up by himself, was more joy than she thought a person could handle. He was a content baby, but extremely alert from the start, as if he were afraid of missing something new.
"How is he," Jean whispered, coming downstairs after a much-needed nap.
"Perfect," Emma replied, using her foot to rock his carrier as he slept.
"I'd better eat, I can barely keep up with him now."
"Even with the rice cereal thrown in with your milk, he's hungry all the time," Emma stopped her quick type on the laptop to glance at him.
"I wish I wasn't so tired," she yawned, looking into the fridge.
"It's been three months since he was born. Maybe you should switch to formula now, give your body a rest."
Jean-Paul walked into the kitchen, guiding Jean away from the table.
"I can make my own food."
"But you don't have to," he smiled, pulling out chicken and vegetables.
"I don't know if I'm an invalid, or a milk machine," she muttered, kissing Jean-Paul's cheek all the same.
"You really should think about switching him to formula, Jean."
"I feel like I'm going to deprive him..." she looked down at her sleeping boy with a thoughtful frown.
"If you keep this up, you will deprive him of you being alert and enjoying him."
"Good point," she sighed.
Emma looked over the laptop screen at Jean, knowing she felt bad for needing so much help with James, and thought with a sigh that Logan would have the energy to spare to take care of James and give Jean a chance to rest.
"Jean-" Emma started.
"Yes?"
Jean-Paul jerked his head just a fraction so Emma could see.
"Go back to bed after you eat, we'll watch James."
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At seven months, James was sitting up and playing with his toys in the living room. Jean dropped to her hands and knees, crawling up behind him.
"What's James doing," she asked.
James turned toward her voice, and lifted one eyebrow. Jean was stunned at the quirk, but James paid no mind as he crawled toward his mother for attention.
"I'm off," Emma walked into the room.
"Again? What's on the agenda this time?"
"More of the same, protecting our interests until the human race decides what they've done to us is wrong."
"Well be safe," Jean stood up.
"Always," Emma fluttered her fingers and went to the front doors where Scott was waiting.
"Your Mommy used to be like that," she spoke to James as he watched her with great concentration.
"You'll be that way again," Bobby promised.
"As long as I don't become a figurehead for the Mutant cause," she smiled.
"The not-so-Virginal Mary, Mother to all next generation Mutants."
"Exactly. Maybe no missions for awhile, but I could start helping out where you need help," Jean bounced James in her arms, making him giggle.
"I'll ask Jean-Paul about it."
"Is Emma all right?"
"You're the 'path, why you askin' me?"
"We may have gotten closer, but not that close. She's just...unusually distant."
"Jet-lagged probably," he shrugged.
"You're probably right. I'm just concerned," Jean shrugged with a smile.
"Careful, or you'll turn into that figurehead after all."
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Jean smiled as Kitty, Jubliee, and Bobby came into James' room. They tossed books aside and took their usual places around the room, a routine debriefing of the day.
"Busy day at university," she asked, James testing out his legs as he gripped her index fingers.
"You have no idea," Jubliee groaned. "I'd give anything to be hauling hay again."
"Be careful what you wish for, they have animals to tend to in this country as well," Jean teased.
"What's James' newest talent," Kitty asked.
"Hold out your arms in front of you. Are you ready, James," Jean kissed his cheek as he started forward, and he managed a few steps in the space between Jean and Kitty.
"Way to go," Bobby grinned. "Pretty soon he'll be into everything, no one will be safe."
"He's growing so fast," Jubliee mused. "Almost one year old!"
"Do you think he'll be short?"
"Logan wasn't short," Jean replied.
"He wasn't tall, either," Bobby smirked, getting an elbow to his side.
"He was the same height as me," Jean insisted.
"If you added in the hair," Bobby snickered, dodging Jubliee's elbow.
"Robert, I could look him in the eye, without stooping," she warned with a smile.
"Okay okay, but he was shorter than me!"
"Everyone but Scott shorter than you, beanpole!"
"I am not a beanpole, check these guns out," Bobby yanked up a sleeve and flexed.
"More like slingshots, dear," Jubliee squeezed his bicep with a smile.
"I don't know why I come in here," Bobby muttered, rolling a ball to James.
"To have your daily flogging, of course," Kitty replied brightly.
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"Happy birthday, Jean!"
Jean looked up in surprise as a cake was set in front of her in the kitchen, hands taking away her paperwork and laptop. Jean-Paul had started Jean on invoices of supplies to small factions of Mutant organizations, and between that and taking care of James, who was standing up in his playpen eager to be included in the gathering, she hadn't given a second thought to her birthday.
"I forgot," she blushed.
"That's for us to remember!"
"Where's Emma?"
"Gone again. But she left you something," Bobby ran out of the room, coming back with a manilla envelope in hand.
She opened the flap, and drew out a few pictures of Logan. It had been so long, seeing his face so clearly came as a shock. Standing half in darkness, the light casting his profile into sharp relief. That was how she remembered him, always between the light and dark, never choosing one side. Some had him looking out the window, and others his head bowed with eyes lowered, all unaware he was being photographed.
"Jean?"
"Yeah," she smiled, putting the photos away.
"Open mine," Kitty urged.
"Thank you," Jean smiled, glad her eyes had stayed dry.