Memories

Dreams

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men or any of their characters. Tora and Weapon X-ii are my own though.

The words flowed around them. Neither was listening, just sitting quietly on the couch together. Everything was so busy nowadays, with new supervillains popping up every other day. The whole Dragon thing had caused about eight days of excitement until, fed up with the questions at a press conference, Tora had stood up, screamed 'It's just a Secondary Mutation, 'kay?" sat back down again and refused to answer any more questions. But now they had an evening off and time to relax. Couples were dotted around the room, Jean and Scott on the loveseat, Rogue and Gambit being careful not to touch but still close, Warren and Betsy watching TV. Kitty and Piotr with Eloise and Luke, sitting together, playing some sort of card game that involved rows and screams of 'That's a Jack of Hearts, not Diamonds!' etc. And Logan and Tora in the darkest corner of the room. To most people looking, they were sitting together. In actual fact, she had fallen asleep through overwork, broken nights and physical exertion. Normally she slept from ten till five and that would last her. But when you wake up every half hour to see to a screaming baby, stay up late to mark papers and then get dragged into battle, you end up getting very sleepy indeed.

"Darling, we have to go up now. Tora?"

She purred sleepily, which meant she wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. Sighing, Logan picked her up and carried her upstairs to their room. She moaned when he pulled the covers over her. For all she complained about him stealing the quilt, he had the right to grumble about her stealing most of the space in the bed. Her eyes opened.

"Ne dort pas… simplement me repos mes yeux."

"Just get to sleep. I'll watch Jamie tonight. One night of milk formula can't do too much harm, can it?"

"Non. Merci beaucoup…"

She rarely did this, forgot how to speak English. When it happened, it meant she was either exhausted or in terrible pain. She understood, which meant her translator wasn't on the blink again but she was still pretty wasted. Logan knew her English that she knew, aka hadn't been implanted into her head by evil geniuses, whilst not entirely perfect, was pretty good. It was just easier for her to speak French. So when someone had fried the chips, Remy had laughed his head off at her rather hazy English, then had a rapid conversation in French with her. He had insisted that people took her home, she reinstalled her language banks and voila! She could speak perfect English again. Apparently she took backups of her own mind which was according to Kitty 'ever so slightly freaky'. He watched as she snuggled into the duvet and her soft purring started again. Then he went over to the desk and flicked through the Espionage tests. They were multichoice and as he'd guessed, she'd only marked about a third. Picking up the crib sheet he started marking the rest. It was obvious she had written the paper. Question 18 made him laugh.

"You are attempting to steal a disk. You have managed to get out of the building but are now backed against a cliff. You are unarmed and being threatened by eight gun-wielding thugs. Beneath you are rocks. If you jump, your colleagues will get to your body first. Do you

a. Try to climb down the cliff?

b. Attack the guards head-on?

c. Jump off the cliff? Your sacrifice will mean your mission is almost certainly a success.

d. Surrender and wait for an opportunity to free yourself?

The correct answer was c. with a. getting a half mark for sheer guts. d. meant you failed the entire test. Logan scanned the rest of the paper and ascertained he would fail miserably. Apparently his temperament was too fiery to be a spy. Then he noticed the last two sentences.

"If you have a healing factor, then you would be a deadly and efficient spy. I happen to know this as Logan is like that."

He chuckled then checked to see he hadn't woken her up. He hadn't. As a matter of fact, she had sprawled out across the entire bed and was purring contentedly. He grinned, finished marking the tests and joined her. As soon as his cold feet entered the bed she withdrew, then sighed and snuggled up. Every night, no matter what had happened previously, would always end with them curled up together, sleeping peacefully.

Until Jamie started crying that is.

Death laughed as the baby's cries rose from the pool and Logan slowly got up, walked out and dealt with the screaming boy.

"I should point out, I didn't really put Drake in his private Hell."

"Really? What did you do then?"

"Made him babysit."

"Brilliant. Has he begged you to stop yet?"

"About nineteen times. Can you show me why he's so afraid?"

"I can't babysit Kitty!"

"Look, Tora told me to find a responsible adult whilst Fury lectures her on ethical murder. Apparently she wouldn't kill an AIM agent who later blew up a SHIELD facility. In the absence of responsible adults, you have to look after him."

"I can't look after Jamie Kitty. I'll do something wrong and Logan will kill me!"

"Just treat him like porcelain, OK?"

"I drop plates."

"Bone china then."

"I can't… Kitty! KITTY!"

The baby gurgled.

"You and me both kid. You know, you look a lot like Logan. Aren't anything like him though. So kid, we're stuck with each other. Want to go ice-sliding?"

Jamie gurgled cheerily.

"Right. Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, and Bobby was lucky Tora hadn't perforated him. She'd chased him around the house and hit him on the head with the big pasta pan though. It hadn't exactly been his fault Jamie had spun off the slide and onto the floor. But he'd started crying, and Tora, with uncanny instinct when her son was in danger, stole one of Fury's teleporters, came home and started her attack on Bobby. When Logan came home, Iceman locked himself in the lab and only came out in the old Hunter armour, which was ridiculously small on him. He was threatened by most, including Jean, Ororo and Remy. Surprisingly, Gambit had a soft spot for the baby although Tora had told him 'teach him any of your Cajun French and I will gut you'. He had laughed and retorted with 'purist'.

"Le Beau. That man started having parties with Casanova the day he arrived."

"He was…how old? Time has made me forget."

"Old enough."

"Were you to blame for that?"

"I may have…tweaked their biographies…a little…"

"Death dates by any chance?"

"Er…"