Chapter Ninety-Four:
"Hushabye, don't you cry, go to sleep little baby."
Smiling down at her sleeping son, Jean Grey-Summers gently draped a blanket across Nathan's chest, and chuckled softly as he tugged it up over his face in his sleep.
"When you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses," she murmured, letting her fingers brush his auburn hair, marveling at how soft it was. Gone were the downy tufts of hair from babyhood, but his new locks were silky and smooth, the perfect mixture of her own fiery red tresses and Scott's dark hair.
It made her wonder what color hair the LeBeau twins would have.
Images of little faces framed by dark hair with white streaks, and red-on-black eyes poking out from beneath them, floated in her mind, and she smiled.
The odds of Rogue's children inheriting the physical traits of both her and Remy's mutations were extremely slim, but Jean suspected that was how everyone in the mansion was picturing the future arrivals. As a geneticist, she knew it was more likely that the twins would have plain old dark hair and green eyes- or whatever color Remy's eyes would have naturally been without his mutation- yet it was hard not to almost hope for a true blending of their genes.
Or at the very least, the fluffy white bangs little Rogue had sported in the pictures Raven brought on her last visit.
Naturally, Rogue had been mortified, but Remy had loved seeing what his wife looked like as a child, and Rogue had stopped threatening to burn the photographs when Logan pointed out that the pictures were all he had of her childhood.
One of those awkward moments of tension had occurred then, with the usual glares passing between Logan and Raven, but those moments never lasted very long these days.
Mostly because no one wanted to upset Rogue's hormones.
The Danger Room still bore the scars of her last angry mood swing, brought on when Remy had inadvertently called her fat.
I remember those days, Jean thought as she quietly slipped out of the nursery, closing the door behind her. Poor Scott, he must be reliving the trauma while Remy suffers.
Luckily for Remy- and for the lamps in the mansion- Rogue didn't have telekinesis to amplify her mood swings. At least, not without intentionally accessing the template of Jean's own powers, which wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Rogue's temper had been a force to be reckoned with before she got pregnant; all of the extra hormones were only making her even scarier lately.
So scary, in fact, that even Logan was hesitant to go near her during a meltdown.
But Jean didn't have that luxury, mothers had to stick together, after all, and since the frustration she'd been picking up from Rogue all afternoon had only grown stronger during the last classes of the day, she made her way down to school wing and knocked on the door to Rogue's office.
"C'min," a weary Southern voice muttered.
Pushing the door open, Jean stepped inside to find Rogue at her desk, hunched over a pile of papers.
"Busy grading?" Jean inquired knowingly.
Rogue scowled. "Don' these kids know how t' use spell-check?" she demanded. "Seriously, Ah'm startin' t' think we should offer a remedial spelling class o' somethin', some o' these essays are that bad."
"What was the topic?" Jean asked, settling down in one of the armchairs in front of Rogue's desk.
"The morality of mutant legislation and international mutant policies," Rogue replied, making a face. "Even Ah think it's borin', an' Ah gave the assignment."
"Welcome to the wonderful world of teaching," Jean told her with a smile. "It's as unpleasant for us as it is for them sometimes. Last fall Scott gave out an essay on the theoretical physics of plasma-based mutant powers, not realizing just how boring the science of his powers really is until he had to dredge his way through thirty different five page papers on the subject."
"Good Lord, no wonder his students dread his class."
Despite herself, Jean chuckled, well aware that her husband could be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, to put it mildly.
"How are the little ones feeling today?" she asked.
"Great," Rogue replied wryly. "It's their mother who's sufferin'. Mah back is killin' me, an' mah ankles look like they belong on an elephant. The twin terrors, however, are perfectly comfortable."
"Twin terrors?" Jean echoed. "Preparing for the inevitable, are you?"
"Remy's cousin Emil gave 'em the nickname," Rogue explained ruefully. "He says that one child o' Remy's would be bad enough, but two at the same time is a sign o' the Apocalypse." She put down her red marking pen, moving one hand to her swollen stomach as she smirked. "Ah reckon he's probably right."
"Having met him, I suspect he'll be more than happy to ensure they live up to that name," Jean said dryly.
"Him an' Bobby both," Rogue drawled. "Did ya see the two o' them when Bobby an' Kurt came up durin' Emil, Henri an' Mercy's visit last month? They were plottin' all the ways they're gonna corrupt mah kids."
"At least their uncles will be a good influence," Jean reassured her.
"Ah wouldn' count on that. Kurt's a prankster, he'll be teachin' 'em all sorts o' ways t' drive me crazy." Rogue rolled her eyes, looking every bit like a big sister. "An' Henri's been lookin' forward t' gettin' some payback on Remy fo' rubbin' off on Jacques."
Remembering the adorable little boy who'd accompanied Henri and Mercy, and the way he'd latched onto Remy for the entire weekend visit, Jean smiled.
"It was really nice to finally meet some of Remy's family," she told Rogue sincerely. "They're wonderful."
"They are, aren't they?" Rogue mused with a wistful smile. "Ah jus' wish that Jean-Luc could have come up, an' Theo an' Bella. Ah'm dyin' t' see li'l Etienne in person. Pictures jus' don' cut it."
"They'll be ready to travel by the time your little ones make their appearance," Jean reminded her.
"Ah know, it jus' seems so far away."
Jean laughed. "Trust me, the last few months will fly by. Before you know it, everyone in the X-family will be here to fawn over the twins, right beside the LeBeau clan." She paused, thoughtful. "Are you at all anxious about Logan meeting Jean-Luc?"
"Readin' mah mind, Jeannie?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.
"No, are you reading mine?" Jean retorted, and Rogue had the grace to wince.
"Ah'm gettin' better at keepin' the template powers from flarin' up," she insisted. "It hasn' happened in weeks."
"I'm the last person who has room to complain," Jean replied with a shrug. "It happened a lot during my pregnancy with Nathan. Especially around Scott. He threatened to start wearing a neural inhibitor."
Rogue cracked a small smile at that, then sighed heavily. "Ah know they'll get along all right," she said, and they were back to the subject at hand. "An' Logan hasn' said much, but Ah know Jean-Luc givin' me away at mah weddin' is a bit o' a sore spot fo' him. Ah jus' don' want him t' see how close Ah am wit' Remy's father an' feel even worse, ya know?"
"I can see why you'd be worried," Jean said evenly. "Since you haven't told Logan you'll be moving back to New Orleans after the babies are born."
Emerald green eyes locked onto her sharply.
"It doesn't take a telepath to figure that out," Jean answered the unspoken challenge. "Scott's already started making plans with the Professor to supply your team with the necessary equipment so you can function from there."
"Even Scott knows?" Rogue bemoaned.
"It's the field leader in him," Jean replied. "Besides, I think everyone is expecting it."
"Yeah? Tell that t' Kurt an' mah parents," Rogue muttered, then shook her head. "An' speakin' o' mah team, there been any word from Remy yet?"
"Not yet," Jean answered truthfully. "But I'm sure he'll be checking in soon."
"Sure he will," Rogue scoffed bitterly.
Jean wisely kept silent, knowing by now that it was best to let it go. If having Jean-Luc give his daughter away at her wedding was a sore spot for Logan, then having Remy leading her team while she was incapacitated was one for Rogue. Most of the time she was fine with it, but whenever Scott sent them out on a mission, Rogue would get restless, and then restlessness would morph into bitterness and frustration.
Being cooped up in the mansion while everyone else was off saving the world wasn't easy.
Jean could relate, it hadn't been much fun for her, either.
That was the reason she'd decided to take some time off from being an active X-man, so Rogue would have someone at the mansion at all times, someone she could commiserate with.
It didn't hurt that it gave her more time to spend with her son.
Nathan was growing up so fast... it seemed like just yesterday that Hank had placed him in her arms, and now he was toddling about the mansion, eagerly babbling to anyone who would listen and endearing himself to the student body so masterfully, Alex kept insisting that the two year-old was working them over for cookies.
"Ah dunno how effective o' a team we'll be in New Orleans, anyway," Rogue grumbled. "Ah think Ah'm gonna lose Sam an' Neal when we split."
"No worries about Regan?" Jean inquired.
"She'll fit right in wit' the Thieves Guild," Rogue said dismissively. "She tol' me flat out the first week Scott placed her wit' me that if we relocated back t' New Orleans, she wanted t' stick wit' the team. Truth is, she's not all that comfortable here."
"So I've noticed," Jean sighed.
Eighteen year-old Lady Mastermind was, to say the least, a handful.
Brooding, sarcastic and currently going through a Goth phase, it had been obvious that she belonged under Rogue's watch when Scott sat down to make team assignments for the recent graduates.
"Besides," Rogue added with a smirk. "At least this way ya'll won't lose Emma."
"Don't remind me," Jean muttered.
Emma Frost had nearly threatened to quit if Regan remained at the Westchester Academy, after all, not that Jean would have missed her. Regan and Emma had history that wasn't very pleasant, and though Jean had never pressed for details, she knew it had something to do with Regan's father Jason Wyngarde's involvement with the Hellfire Club.
Personally, Jean suspected that Regan's bitter dislike of Emma was probably warranted.
After all, the former White Queen had quite the checkered past.
A chuckle from the woman across from her shook Jean out of her reverie and she looked up to find Rogue watching her. "What?" she demanded.
"Contemplatin' turnin' her in'na hundreds o' tiny diamond rings?" Rogue drawled.
Despite herself, Jean flushed a little. "Do I have murder written on my face whenever I think of her, or something?" she asked wearily. "Or are you using my powers again?"
"It's easy t' see that she rubs ya the wrong way," Rogue replied with a shrug.
"If only she'd rub Scott the wrong way, too," Jean muttered, and Rogue's eyebrows went up. "She's very fond of Scott," she explained tersely.
"An' he's oblivious o' course," Rogue concluded. "She's a bold one, that's fo' sure. Has the nerve t' keep hittin' on Remy whenever Ah'm around. Ah'm pretty sure she's jus' doin' it t' screw wit' me, but Ah'm tempted t' see jus' how unbreakable that diamond form o' hers really is."
Jean smiled in relief. "Glad it's not just me who feels that way."
"Don' worry about her, Jeannie," Rogue said, suddenly serious. "Scott loves ya, ya an' Nathan are his whole world. Emma Frost can bat her eyes at him all she likes, he'll only ever have eyes fo' ya."
"Thanks, Marie," Jean replied softly, reaching out to squeeze her friend's hand.
"It's the truth, sugah," Rogue responded, then bit her lip thoughtfully. "What made ya'll chose the name Nathan, anyway? Ah've been meanin' t' ask ya that an' never got around t' it."
"Scott liked the name," Jean explained. "There was a nice man at the orphanage, named Nathaniel, and it made him think of him."
"That's really sweet."
"It was," Jean agreed flatly. "Until we found out that nice old Nathaniel was really Mr. Sinister, and that he'd been doing genetics experiments on the children, including Scott."
Rogue blinked, opening her mouth, and then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words.
"Yeah," Jean said. "That was pretty much how Scott reacted."
"An' ya'll kept the name after that?" Rogue demanded incredulously.
"Nathan was already a year old at that point," Jean replied with a shrug. "Now we just tell people that he's named after Nathan's Famous."
"The hot dogs?"
"Scott loves them."
"He must, t' name his son after them," Rogue retorted wryly. "That sounds like somethin' Kurt would do, always thinkin' wit' his stomach. Amanda better keep him away from the birth certificates if they wind up havin' any kids. Ot'erwise she might be stuck wit' a kid named Gut Buster."
Jean laughed. "I'd forgotten about his obsession with those," she said.
"Boy's got a black hole fo' a stomach," Rogue stated, wrinkling her nose. "It's hard t' believe we're related."
"Speaking of baby names," Jean said intently. "Have you and Remy narrowed down the list of names yet?"
"We're takin' a break from the name thing," Rogue said sheepishly. "It always turns in'na an argument an' Ah wind up throwin' things at Remy's head."
"He's still pushing for Lola, huh?"
"It's like he wants our daughter t' work in Vegas."
"He's only doing it to annoy you," Jean assured her. "At least he hasn't picked out anything bad for the boy."
"Not fo' a lack o' tryin'," Rogue retorted, then smiled wryly. "Besides, our li'l boy already has a name, Remy jus' doesn't know it yet."
"Oh?" Jean asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry," Rogue apologized, although the glee in her voice ruined her attempt at sincerity. "It's a secret. If Ah tol' ya, Ah'd hafta kill ya."
"I see," Jean murmured with a smile. "Well, I won't pry."
"That's more than Ah can say fo' the others," Rogue muttered. "Every time Ah talk t' mah mama, she wants t' know if we've considered namin' the girl Irene. Ah'm not opposed t' the idea, but Remy's got a dead mere, too. It wouldn' be fair t' insist on namin' her after 'Renie an' not Marianne."
She pronounced the name, Jean noticed, Mah-ree-ahn, with a convincing French accent.
Not surprising, since Rogue had been living in the heart of Cajun New Orleans for the past few years, but then again hadn't Rogue been fairly fluent back in Bayville?
"Marianne was Remy's mother?" Jean asked, carefully echoing Rogue's pronunciation.
"Adopted, but yeah. She died when he was young, but he remembers she loved him an' used t' tell him that his eyes were God's way o' markin' him as special." Rogue tilted her head thoughtfully. "Ah wish Ah coulda met her."
"Maybe you could name your daughter after both her and Irene," Jean suggested.
"Maybe," Rogue conceded with a yawn. "Lordy, Ah'm tired. The rest o' these papers are gonna hafta t' wait t' be graded. Mah eyes are gettin' blurry."
"How about some ice cream and a movie upstairs?" Jean offered, rising to her feet. "Nathan's down for his nap, so we should have an hour or two all to ourselves. Well, if you don't count the dozens of students running around the estate. But it's a sunny day, most of them are outside relaxing after class. We can hide out in the teacher's lounge."
"Sounds like a plan t' me," Rogue agreed, pushing the stack of papers to the corner of her desk.
They made their way upstairs and split up, Rogue going to get the ice cream from the fridge while Jean picked out a DVD and got the movie ready. Just as Rogue was coming into the room, though, Jean picked up Nathan's mental cry as he stirred from his sleep.
"I lied," she sighed. "Looks like Nathan's awake already."
"Ah got him," Rogue said, waving Jean back as she placed the ice cream on the coffee table. "Ah need the practice."
When she returned a few minutes later, with a content Nathan on her hip and his Teddy draped over her shoulder, Jean decided that Rogue was mistaken- she didn't need the practice at all.
She was a natural already.
"You're going to be a really good mother," she told her, smiling as Nathan played with Rogue's hair.
"Ya think?" Rogue asked, and looked down at Nathan. "What about ya, kid? Think Ah got the right stuff fo' this mama thing?"
Nathan just grinned. "I got a new tooth."
"Hmm," Rogue mused. "Ah'm gonna take that as a yes."
Translations:
non- nomere- mother