I Can Be Your Hero

Back at the beach house, Clay cursed the amount of coffee it had taken to make it home in one piece. Emotionally, he felt drained, but physically, he found himself unable to hold still. It was logical that the caffeine high would pass eventually, but until it did, there was no way to escape the inevitable thoughts of what this weekend had stolen from him. Finally, giving up on any hope of sleep, he began to unpack their luggage from the weekend cut short by tragedy.

Although he rifled methodically through the bags for a while, even that action ended when he unearthed the photo frame Lil had given him as a last-ditch attempt to salvage their devastating Christmas. Clay wandered back over to his bed and sat down, attempting to absorb the joy depicted in both moments on display in the frame. The longer his exhausted gaze held onto the mural above Logan's former nursery crib, the more vivid the memory of that day became, and Clay found his mind wandering to times long gone.

October 2010 – Eight Years Earlier

It had been a day worthy of the word disastrous at the office. With the two-hour drive back to Raleigh from his Tree Hill-based employers, Clay was dwelling hard on a rookie basketball player he had failed to sign when he reached home. When he swept into the apartment and deposited his keys on the peg by the door, a rustling noise from the direction of the bedrooms caught Clay's attention, and he followed the sound curiously. "Sara?" His heavily pregnant wife leaned against the future nursery door when he reached down the hall. "Hey there, beautiful," he said, feeling his troubles melt away at the sight of her coy smile. "What are you doing over here? Can't get enough of the nursery since I wouldn't let you see it for so long?"

"Something like that, yeah," she nodded and drew as close to him as her bulging belly would allow. "It's just perfect."

"I'm glad you approve." The bump acted like a buffer between them, and when Clay placed his hand against it, he felt his stress and tension melt away. "How's our Wolverine today?"

"I think he can't wait to start kicking the world's butt," she laughed. "He squirms…a lot. How was his dad's day?"

"Could have been better," Clay sighed, and as usual, something about Sara's expression compelled him to spill his guts. "I was supposed to convince this rookie basketball player to sign with us today, and I couldn't do it. I guess the real world doesn't believe much in integrity, character, and heart." He hesitated, reluctant to voice the fear his failure of the day had unleashed.

"That's their loss then, isn't it? I'm sure someone else will believe in all those important things." Sara squeezed his fingers gently; "Is something else wrong?"

"How the hell do you that, angel?" he marveled, wrapping his arms around her expanded frame.

"I can always tell when you're hiding something, remember?" she reminded him. "Surprises, lies, general problems, I'm just that good."

"Modest you are not, babe," he smiled despite himself. "It's a bit silly. I think failing to sign this kid straight out of college today made me doubt if I'll be able to teach our kid the important things in life. Is that crazy?"

"Clay," she began, looking pained at the defeat in his tone, and being the cause of that dismay in her eyes just made him feel worse than he already did. "That's not going to be a problem, okay? We have a great kid on the way; I can feel it."

"But how do you know that?" he pressed, looking so desperate for reassurance that Sara decided there was no time like the present to reveal what she had been up to all day.

"I just do," she said, taking his hand before shoving the open nursery door. "Just close your eyes and come with me." Confused, Clay did as she asked and let her guide him into the nursery. "No peeking," she insisted, and he heard the plastic sheeting protecting the floors while the paint on the walls dried rustling underfoot. "Okay, stop here," Sara instructed finally, and Clay heard a strange scraping and clanging noise while his wife pressed her hands over his eyes. "On the count of two," she whispered in his ear, and he smiled despite the terrible day because she valued their thing so profoundly. "One…two!"

With that, Sara lowered her hands, and Clay opened his eyes. Almost immediately, he felt his jaw drop in awed delight. His father-in-law was standing near the assembled crib, and from how it was positioned slightly crooked, Clay guessed it had just been shoved back into place. "Behold the finishing touches to this lovely room," said Sam, gesturing at the wall. "And don't worry; I made sure Sara didn't handle the paint. You can thank her for the little paper chains on the crib rails, see?" The older man pointed out the individual decorations, but Clay kept gaping at the wall.

"This is a good silence, I'm guessing?" Sara smirked, kissing his cheek to end the stunned reaction. "It looks amazing, Daddy. Thanks for your help." She smiled at the wall where the name Logan glistened in the fresh white paint on the light blue backdrop, the letters shaped like fluffy white clouds. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Clay repeated faintly. "Are you kidding me, angel? I love it! Are you serious about this?"

"Of course," Sara nodded. "He's our little superhero, our Logan." She placed one hand over her baby bump. "Hey, Wolverine, tell Daddy you believe in him, would you?" Seconds later, she grabbed Clay's hand and placed it against her belly. "He listened to me. Feel that?"

"Oh my God," Clay whispered, falling more in love with his wife than he ever would have believed possible when her eyes sparkled with pure adoration. "That's my Wolverine."

"We believe in you," said Sara, and he welcomed her kiss with pleasure. "You're already my hero, Clay. In a few weeks, you'll be his, too, you'll see." Overcome with love and excitement, Clay lifted his wife slightly off her feet and twirled carefully in a circle. He was only distantly aware that Sam had snapped a picture of the moment, for right then, nothing else mattered but the woman about to give him the most precious gift in the world.

The doorbell chime wrenched Clay from his thoughts, and he reluctantly laid the frame aside and went to answer it. Nathan stood on the doorstep with his hands on Logan's shoulders. "Special delivery," he said, smiling at the stunned look on Clay's face. "Why is this surprising? You know how Haley is once she puts her mind to something. You didn't honestly think we'd leave you to mope around alone, did you?"

"I guess not," Clay murmured, opening his arms for Logan to rush into. "Thanks for bringing him home, Nate. How's Quinn doing?"

"She was asleep when I left," Nathan told him. "It's always surprising seeing Taylor open to cuddles, but the girls are taking good care of her. Haley thought you could use Logan's company, at least, so here we are. Are you okay?"

"I've been better," Clay admitted. He gave Logan a squeeze when he noticed the eight-year-old staring up at him in concern. "Life lesson for you, Wolverine: Don't drink coffee unless you absolutely have to stay awake."

"Caffeine high, huh?" Nathan grimaced sympathetically. "At least now you have company till it ends. Get some sleep soon, okay? You look terrible."

"Thanks a lot, man," Clay muttered, and Nathan shrugged and patted his shoulder.

"Call us whenever you feel like talking, as Quinn said. We'll be thinking of you."

"I will," Clay promised solemnly, shutting the door when Nathan returned to his car and left them alone. "Did you have fun with Jamie, buddy?"

"Yeah, he always helps." Logan looked slightly happier than Clay had left him at the Scott house. "He let me put Mommy and Aunt Izzie's angel on their Christmas tree because we never got one. Did you see the picture?"

"I did. That was really sweet. Did having it up on the tree help?"

"I think it did," said Logan seriously. "I told Jamie that I feel safer having the angel around. Is that weird?"

"If it is, then we can be weird together because I totally agree," Clay told him. "Your mommy had that effect on people. Whenever things looked hopeless, she could make you believe everything would be okay with a single look or touch."

"That sounds really awesome. I think even the Christmas angel has that effect on me." His son's awe and amazement whenever he talked about Sara never ceased, and today, it made Clay feel guiltier than ever. "So, what were you doing if you couldn't sleep this whole time?"

They had reached the master bedroom while exchanging news, and Clay pointed at the photo frame he had abandoned on the bed. "I was thinking about you, actually. You and the day your mommy surprised me with the name on your nursery wall." He sank onto the bed and picked up the frame again. Logan leaned against his shoulder to stare at the pictures, and the warmth of his tiny body took Clay back to how feeling the baby kick had been so calming. "The day she surprised me with the nursery decoration, I'd really messed up some stuff at work. I was worried I would screw up once you were born. Your mommy told me I was her hero and would be yours too." Logan was watching him with wide eyes, at a loss for words. His father kept talking, almost as if he was berating himself instead of telling a story. "I used to tell your mommy that she would only be my favorite person on the planet until you were born. When the day came, she called you my new best friend. I told myself I would never let you down if I could help it…that didn't even last a year."

"Dad, it's okay," said Logan softly. "It was hard, but thanks to five years living with Grandma and Grandpa, I also learned more about Mommy. I told you I forgive you, remember?"

"Yeah, but I didn't deserve it," said Clay bitterly. "Maybe losing this baby is my punishment for walking out on you. I'm just so sorry I broke my promise never to abandon you."

"I don't know much about how babies work, but Jamie did tell me that what happened to this one is nobody's fault," Logan pointed out. "I'm with Mommy on this one."

"What do you mean?" Clay frowned in confusion, and Logan made him put the frame aside so he could clamber onto his father's lap.

"I mean, she was right," said Logan. "You are my hero. Every Wolverine out there deserves such an awesome Gambit." He looked up and grinned mischievously at Clay's disbelieving look. "Our Jean Grey is miserable right now, but she'll come around, and everything will be okay."

"You really are my son," said Clay proudly.

"Well, duh," the eight-year-old giggled but turned solemn almost at once. "I think you're beating yourself up because you haven't slept enough."

"When did you get so smart?" Clay sighed and squeezed the little boy tightly. "I'm never letting you go again, I swear."

"Well, that's good." Logan wriggled off his knees and pulled back the bedcovers. "Uncle Nathan was right, you look terrible. Come on, get in already."

"Dude, who's the parent here again?" Clay laughed but did as he said anyway. He shifted into the middle of the bed when Logan perched at the edge. "Hey kid, will you stay here, please? It helps; you are totally a little superhero."

"Sure, I just need a second to get something. I'll be right back," said Logan quickly. He ran across the hall to his bedroom after scrambling off the bed. In minutes, he returned, hugging a wooden photo frame to his chest. "I left our angel on top of Jamie's tree," he explained. "She can look out for Mom over there, and we can keep this one here. We need her."

He placed the photograph of Sara, which shared its frame, with a little snapshot of his first visit to the beach with Clay and Quinn on the headboard. Clay stared at it and felt a knot of despair, tightening in his chest at the many happy smiles in the two pictures taken years apart. "We really do," he agreed faintly, and when Logan slipped obligingly under the covers with him, he clung to his son as if his life depended on it. "I'm so glad you're here, kid."

"Till kingdom come," promised Logan. "That's your vow to Mom, right?"

"That's right," Clay nodded shakily. It was taking energy that he barely had not to fall apart by now. "And hers, too; I just hope she remembers that soon. Our family is pretty great already."

"She will," said Logan, and in his exhaustion, Clay was glad for the child-like faith. "She has to." The eight-year-old kept gazing at his mother's picture long after Clay fell asleep, praying for the strength to keep their family together like he had promised his grandmother he would.

A / N And I'm back with fluffy Clara to contrast the angst of the present; next update will probably focus on the OC side of things. Enjoy all! xx