Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

A Year In The Dunes (Part 2)

Bobby fell ill in late April. It began with the coughing, just like it had with Kitty. He came to Marie, but not to Jean, and asked her to sit with him while the disease took him. Marie did, holding him in her arms much like he had Kitty, stroking his blonde curls, and whispering that she loved him as his fitful breaths slowed, then finally stopped.

Marie was heartbroken - Bobby had been closer to her in many ways than the girls - and Jean was as well. She'd come when Marie told her Bobby was nearing the end, when it was far enough along that Bobby wouldn't really know or care that his wish to spare Jean the sight of him dying hadn't been followed. Marie thought it was more important that Jean have the chance to say her goodbyes. She knew that if their roles were reversed, that's what she would've wanted.

After it was all over, Jean was nearly inconsolable. As Logan dug yet another grave on their lakefront property, Marie tried awkwardly to comfort Jean.

"It was really fast. There wasn't anything you could've done."

"He didn't want to exclude you, you know. He was trying to protect you. He didn't want you to have to see him suffer, to have to - "

"Shut up, would you?" That pissed Marie off, but given the circumstances, she decided to just do as Jean asked. But as she was heading out of the room and inwardly wondering yet again just what she'd done to Jean to prompt this attitude, she heard the doctor say something else. "Everybody picks you, don't they?"

"What?" Marie stopped in the doorway and turned to face her.

"He wanted you at the end, not me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Marie swallowed more aggravation and tried for an even tone. "I don't know, Jean."

"No, you don't." When she didn't say anything further, Marie once again made to leave. Once again, Jean's voice stopped her. "We were lovers."

That got a much faster turn-around from Marie. "What?"

"I need someone, after Scott, after - I needed someone and Bobby, he was so like him, so like Scott. Especially now. He was becoming a leader, I could see it in him. He was so like Scott." Marie blinked, and she was fairly sure that her mouth was hanging open. "I know, on some level, that it was just comfort and friendship. I'm not stupid," she said bitterly, pausing to take in a shaky breath before continuing. "But I still would've thought he'd want me at the end. But, no, everyone wants you."

A long history of frustration bubbled up in Marie, and she lashed out without meaning to. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've managed to make Bobby's death something that's All About You. I'm sure he did that just to kick at your ego."

Jean rose from the bed quickly and looked like she might lunge at Marie for a moment. But she caught herself, then ran a hand over her stomach. "You're such a little girl."

"You don't have any room to talk."

"It won't always be like this, Rogue. You won't always have the entire male population of your world rearranging their entire lives around you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Jean let out a bitter laugh. "You're right. I guess I forgot - you heal. You won't age. You'll always be young and pretty and a damsel in distress. Never mind. I guess you will always have men to wrap around your little finger."

"Whatever, Jean. I've never done a damn thing to you, but you've always had some problem with me. I've given up on making any sense of that."

"You've never done a thing? You have had it so *easy*, Rogue - you just waltzed into the mansion and everyone fell all over you. You were Logan's obsession, Scott's little sister, Bobby's unrequited love. You were - "

"The person who took you out of being the center of attention, I get it," Marie bit out, still riding on the anger too much to regret the dig. "But if you think I've had it so goddamn *easy* then why don't you go out there, huh? Why don't you turn yourself over to them and see just how easy that is? Maybe you should just shut the hell up about things you don't know anything about."

"If you're done screaming at the pregnant woman, you can go now," Jean flung back.

Marie did as she asked, stomping out of the room. All she could think was - that can't be all there is, it can't just be the attention that she 'took' from Jean. What else there could be, though, Marie didn't know, and Jean didn't seem inclined to enlighten her. She plunged down the stairs, and out to burn off some energy and regain some perspective by helping Logan dig her friend's grave.

Just as Jean, Marie and Logan buried Bobby in the dunes, Scott was finally digging himself out of his own hole. Literally. He'd been thrown into a mass grave after playing dead; it wasn't exactly the kind of thing he'd pride himself on, but it had ensured his survival. Most of his other comrades at Mutant Processing Facility 109-45 hadn't made it. But for Scott, survival had been his focus on day one, and he'd never wavered. He was convinced that Jean was out there, and alive, and he had to get to her. He had to. Therefore, he had to survive. It was really just that simple for him.

So, after all sounds of battle had long since faded, and the humans were convinced their work here was done, leaving the bodies to rot together in one long trench, Scott began extracting himself from the dead around him and making a plan to find his family.

The first thing he did was take one of the fallen humans' radio. He didn't find a broadcast station anywhere on the dial, not on AM or FM, and he took that as a sign that things on the outside of the prison were as bad as had been rumored. The prison gossip had it that large numbers of humans and mutants had perished, enough to make our entire civilization more than a little shaky, but gossip also had it that there were those with a natural immunity to the disease, on both the human and mutant sides. The mutants in this facility, so the rumor went, were the immune ones. The tests the humans had done on him, the repeated injections followed by close observation and sample-taking of every kind - blood, urine, feces, tissue - seemed to support that theory. If they were looking for a way to stop Legacy, they'd start by trying to figure out what created the naturally-occurring immunity to it.

Scott felt fairly confident that he was indeed immune. All the injections, all the tests hadn't impinged on his health. No, the beatings and starvation made a dent, but not the disease. And he hadn't gotten sick with what his fellow inmates called Legacy but what his human captors called 'the bleeding disease.' Guards and prisoners dropped like flies all around him, but he himself was as hale and healthy as could be expected under the circumstances. If, in fact, this had been a lab to study the immune mutants, it made sense, too, that it would be among the last to be abandoned, even if civilization as we knew it was on the skids. Scott tried not to think about what it meant that they *had* given up, that they *had* tried to simply exterminate those mutants left. He focused his attention on his desperate hope that Jean would be immune as well, even though he knew the odds were ridiculously long. In any case, he had to search her out; he had to know. He pushed all other thoughts from his mind, and made his way out of the compound.

Logan breathed in deeply, taking in as much of Marie's scent as he could, trying to read her. It signaled the beginning of what he thought of as 'easing her down.' It was the fourth time they'd tried penetrative sex, and this time had seemed the easiest on Marie - she'd been far less tense than the other times and there were no tears afterward - but he still carried forward with the ritual he'd created nonetheless. He'd learned by now that her emotions, especially when she felt vulnerable, were unpredictable, and he wanted to err on the side of giving her more than she needed.

The ritual had happened by accident, really, after their first time. Marie was very uneasy, and, out of instinct and the strong drive to comfort her, he'd taken her in his arms, held her close, and began tenderly kissing her face and hair. Noticing that it was calming her, he continued, adding caresses along her back for good measure. After a few moments, she reached a kind of plateau - she was no longer sending out signals of serious distress, but she wasn't notching down in her anxiety any further. Surmising that he was doing all that he could with his body, Logan decided on whispering soft words of affection to her. It worked, and soon, she was sleeping like a baby in his arms. He was proud of himself that first night, for taking care of her in a way that worked.

The things he whispered as he eased her down were usually promises of love and protection, and tonight was no different. But he also had something else on his mind as he calmed her, something he wanted to ask her. Between wet kisses, he began.

"Wantcha to always be with me, Marie." A contented sigh answered him, and she burrowed closer into his embrace. "I know we don't have - there's nothin' out there anymore, no people. I know we don't really have a way to make it official, but I wantcha with me, Marie." She raised her eyes to his face, parting from him a little so that she could. The expression there unsettled him - it was questioning, and not entirely warm. "I won't ask ya to get married or anythin', I - I know I haven't - I didn't - I just won't ask ya that. But could you promise me, Marie - could you promise me that you'll stay with me? I just wantcha with me," he finished lamely.

"I am with you," Marie answered. "I came back."

"I don't want to do this with anyone else." That had come out with more than a touch of defensiveness. "I thought you said - you told me it was OK, when we did this, because you loved me, and I believed you. How do you get - never mind." She squirmed out of his embrace and put her back to him. He was frankly altogether taken aback now.

"It is OK. It's OK that we do this. I - I meant that. I do love you."

"Hmph." That accelerated him past confused and uneasy and all the way to something quite like panic.

"Marie, talk to me."

She rustled herself around to face him again. "What did I do to make you think of me like that, huh? I just - you did those things and made me like them, and you promised - you *promised* it was OK. You know what it means to me when you promise. That's the only reason I did it. It's not like I'd go off and - and find some other guy to - to - just screw. Why do you think that?"

Logan blinked. "I don't think that."

"Then why - why all this about making sure I stay with you?"

"I just - I thought - hmph." He stopped himself and made sure that the words came out right, something that had escaped him so far this evening. "I don't want to lose you. I'm scared I'll lose you, that's all. And I want - I want you to be mine. I want to bond with you, to have some way for us to become, you know, mates, together. I just thought if we promised each other that'd be about right."

Her eyes softened and he knew at least some of that had come out as he'd intended. "Sorry." It left her lips in an abashed whisper. "Sorry, Logan."

"Sorry." She turned her back to him again. He cuddled himself around her, not knowing why she was apologizing, exactly, or what else to say. "I promise, OK? Whatever you want, I promise it."

"You don't hafta - "

"But I do. I'm sorry."

When she didn't seem inclined to say anything else, he prodded, "Talk to me, darlin', please. Anythin' - just tell me what's on your mind."

"I got used to it." She took a heaving breath and let it out in a long wavering sigh. "I got used to people touching me being - they called me 'whore' and 'slut' while they were doing it, and I guess I just got used to thinking of myself that way, to thinking of being close with anyone that way. Sometimes I get scared that you'll - that in the middle of it, you'll slap me across the face and spit on me and call me 'whore,' even though I know you won't. I don't know why. I don't know what's wrong with me, why I can't just get over it and let it go. I'm sorry, something's wrong with me. I'm sorry I got mad."

"Hey, hey, darlin." he soothed. He had to fight back boiling anger at the picture she'd painted, and hard, for the soft tone wrapped around those words, but the minute relaxation of her body against his was worth it. "There's nothin' wrong with you. You're perfect. You've just - you've been through a lotta shit." He paused, considering whether to tell her what was on his mind. "Marie," he continued in a whisper, "you know, they did some of the same stuff to me. I know - I know it's different for you." He tried not to think that by 'different' he'd meant 'a thousand times more horrific' because of her innocence and virginity. For all they'd done to him, and all he couldn't remember, he knew the lab doctors hadn't been the ones to introduce him to sex, or pain, for that matter. "But I understand a little, and I know for sure there's nothin' wrong with you. Don't ever think that."

He felt her take his hands in hers and wrap his arms around her tightly. "I know I'm not the same. I'm not the sweet kid you knew before - before all this happened. I know that." Her voice dropped to a murmur as she chanced the next part. "Would you have still wanted me to come back, even if you knew what they did, what I'd be like now?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. "Yes, my God, yes. I'd wantcha back no matter what, darlin'. No matter what. I'm so damn glad I got you back now, just like you are."

"OK," she sighed. "I - I know it was hard on you, when I was gone, I really know that, and I know you'd want me back, but I - I kind of needed to hear you say that."

"Anytime." He gave her a squeeze and felt her relax a bit more. "Anythin' else you wanna hear?"

"No. Let me tell you something, though." She turned in his embrace to face him, and she looked so incredibly beautiful to him in that moment. "I love you. I always have. With all my heart and soul. And I'd love to be - to promise to always be with you, to be your mate, or your wife, or whatever you'd like. If you'll have me, I'll be whatever you need. I don't know how I could ever love anyone but you, or be with anyone but you. You're the guy for me." Her whisper had turned soft and playful with her last proclamation, and she had the distinct look of trying to make something up to him. He hoped that wasn't all that was behind her words. He didn't think it was; his senses told him the words were true.

"And you're the one for me. I promise too. I promise to be whatever you need, and to protect you and love you - I'm gonna love you so much, Marie, and I'm gonna be so good to you, and protect you, no matter what. I promise that."

He kissed her lingeringly to seal the deal, then continued kissing and caressing her as he had been. "Love you, darlin'. Get some sleep now, baby. Just get some rest." She smiled and closed her eyes, and Logan held her tighter, wanting to reinforce his words.

Scott pulled his jacket closer around him to ward off the chill. It was mid-July, but in Alaska, the nights were chilly all year round. He'd been so sure that Logan would have brought them here. Marie made no secret of her desire to see the place and now, with most people gone and nothing but open space between them and Alaska, he'd been positive that this would be where he'd find them. But he'd searched everywhere he could think of, and anywhere he'd heard of, any place that they might be staying or have passed through, with no sign of them emerging. He sat down on a rock that overlooked the hill he'd come up, the last one he'd scaled hoping for some sign of human life - a fire, a car in the middle of the forest, something. Think, Summers, he scolded himself. If they're not here, where would they be?

He ruled out the desert and the Atlantic south almost immediately. Logan would know better than to settle in a spot where water and food were scarce, and he doubted that Marie would want to return to her ancestral home of Mississippi or anywhere close. Well, that only leaves half the continent, Scott thought. Great.

Not for the first time, he wished for just a taste of the civilization that had deserted him. A cell phone, radios, a functioning gas station, anything that could help him locate his wife. Relying on the few people he came across willing to talk to him for information would only yield their location by pure luck. And luck, Scott reflected, was in short supply worldwide.

Pushing away those thoughts, he once again directed himself to try to think of where they'd go. Canada was a strong possibility. They'd found Logan fighting in Alberta, and that would be as likely a spot as any. Scott thought the Canadian Rockies were another fair possibility. They'd provide a rich resource pool, and it would be easy to survive despite the altitude and cold. It would also be easily defensible, something else that Scott was sure Logan would consider.

Where else, he asked himself. He was sure that they would've headed west, not east, so New England was ostensibly out, as were most of the mid-Atlantic states. West, but how far, seemed to be the question. If they weren't in Alberta or the Rockies, Scott had no idea where else to begin targeting for a search. Hell, it could take him months to find them if he did a thorough search of only those two places. He didn't have months; by his calculations, Jean was due in the fall, and he had to make it to her before that. He had to be there for her and his baby.

His baby - the thought was what spurred him on, what had caused him to travel the country, a journey of over 4000 miles by his reckoning, mostly on foot. He had to be there by the time Jean gave birth, he just had to. And he knew she would make it, that she would carry his child to term. The thought that she might not be still alive was vigilantly pushed out of his consciousness each time it arose. No, she would make it because she had to. That was her mission, and his mission was to find her. With one final sigh, he directed himself in his best internal-disciplinarian voice, to quit moping and get working on that mission. He rose from his perch, gave the hillside one last look, and tried to figure which way was northeast, toward the Rockies.

The dog days of August had settled over the dunes at last. The summer had come late this year, with the temperatures only beginning to become uncomfortable as they neared the end of July. Jean was grateful - her pregnancy was making things uncomfortable enough as it was. She would've been equally as happy to have the scorching heat pass them by altogether; she didn't fancy swimming in the lake and there were few other options for cooling off - although the solar panels were well-fed these days, their limited power supply did not afford the house anything even close to air conditioning. Jean got in the habit of staying in her heavily draped and shaded room through most of the day, emerging at dinnertime to eat and have a cool shower.

Marie, Mississippi girl that she was, welcomed the heat when it finally did come, and even more so, her newfound ability to actually dress for the weather for once. She raided their erstwhile hosts' closets for swimwear, short, and halter tops. Logan similarly stripped down when the weather hit, usually adopting denim cut-offs and not much else. Jean had the feeling that were it not for her presence, he'd happily go around without a stitch.

They were happy, and Jean envied them that. The end of the world as they knew it seemed to suit these two just fine, and they'd conveniently overlooked such trifling concerns as medical help for Jean during her delivery and the needs of the baby once it arrived. Jean herself had been thinking on almost nothing but those two topics; it helped her push away thoughts of what might have become of Scott.

She still hoped he was alive, of course, and that seemed all the more cruel for how steadfastly her logical mind seemed to insist that he was otherwise. Jean was a scientist to the last - facts and figures didn't lie, didn't abandon you, didn't betray. They had their own cruelties - inflexibility and coldness among them - but Jean found herself far preferring those to the kind of unpleasantness running your life by your emotions could visit upon you.

Still, she knew she was more emotional now that she was pregnant, and her logical mind recited to her all the medical, factual reasons for that to be so. She resented feeling like she wasn't in control of her own emotions, though. She knew she'd been more confrontational, more snappish toward both Logan and Marie, and that was perhaps the worst side effect. She'd have preferred to choose her battles, instead of jumping in to each and every one. Logan, she thought, was becoming impatient with the tension between herself and Marie, and she wondered if he'd actually say anything to her or try to do anything about it while she was still pregnant.

Jean already had a picture of what she'd do after having the baby. She'd considered leaving and having the child on her own, that was true. But the potential risks to both of them weren't worth it. She'd been giving herself prenatal care as best she could, but complications could never be ruled out, and if they happened, well, it was better to have people around, people she knew she could trust, at least to try to help her and the child.

But after the birth and the first few weeks, she should be able to travel again, and Jean had been making a plan to do just that. She could fend for herself, and the child, out there - during their entire stay here, they'd only seen the occasional person, who was easily warned off by Logan's claws. In the past month, they'd seen no one at all. Jean felt confident that she could handle the few people and mutants who might be left alive out there, and she was equally as confident that she could make it to Westchester, and find out what happened to Scott. Even if he was beyond her help, even if that had long been the case, she still needed to know.

Yes, she'd leave after the baby was born. She wouldn't tell Logan or Marie - she'd just go. It would be better that way; they couldn't try to stop her, even if they were so inclined. She nearly laughed at that - she doubted they'd do anything much more than open the door for her as she left. Logan, perhaps, would try to make her stay, make some token effort at that at least, but Marie, on the other hand......

She'd never much liked Marie. Running away like a spoiled brat after nearly killing Logan and in doing so stupidly jeopardizing Jean's husband, the team, and lots of innocent people hadn't exactly been the right foot to get started off on, in Jean's estimation. Her conduct since then - mooning after Logan, manipulating him to get what she wanted, insisting on being on the team despite being nowhere near ready - were equally as damning. It was all Marie's fault, really, that Scott spent so much time blaming himself for her death on their failed mission. It wasn't their own errors; Marie had stupidly rushed into the building without waiting for backup, eager to show off by saving the people inside, and that was the proximate cause of her 'demise.' Scott punished himself with nightmares, and a heavy, constant guilt that settled between him and everyone close to him - even Jean.

And then she came back - not only alive and in one piece, but new and improved as well, not to mention fully in control of her powers, just like that. She was now not only the scheming, friendless runaway that had managed to worm into Xavier's mansion and her husband's brotherly affections, but she was now a super-mutant, and Logan's miraculously returned lost love. Jean reflected resentfully that Logan had never glanced her way after Marie's 'death' and surely would never do so again. It wasn't that she wanted to be romantically involved with the man - no, it wasn't that. It was just another example of how Marie consumed and monopolized the lives of everyone around her, another example of how she childishly manipulated herself into being the center of attention. It was an example, too, of how everything just seemed to fall into the girl's lap - if Jean had behaved half as badly as Marie had in the past few years, no one would give her the time of day, much less their open-armed love and affection. Marie just didn't know what it was like to have to *work* so hard to be loved, to have to be constantly vigilant, constantly flawless, constantly perfect in order to get the smallest scraps of affection. Marie had even managed to demolish some of that hard work - she'd driven distance between Jean and Scott with her pretended death. Well, Jean thought, Marie will have to be content with monopolizing Logan; everyone else is probably long gone, and Scott would not stay here in the Dunes if Jean wasn't here. Poor little Marie will just have to make due.

A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. "Jeannie, ya need anythin'? I'm goin' out huntin'."

Just my husband, a good ob/gyn doctor, the return of civilization, and my old life back - can you pick that up while you're out? "No, nothing."

Jean tried to push the unpleasant thoughts from her mind and focus on what her life would be like once the baby came. Smiling, she lay back to rest and dream a little.

"I - I have a picture, hang on." In fact, Scott had stopped by Xavier's deserted mansion to get it; he knew it would come in handy one day. Sure, all the man said was that he'd seen a redhead a few months back, but it was something. It was all he had, as a matter of fact. Scott reflected that he'd been right - coming to Alberta had been a good idea. He was going to find her here, he just knew it.

The man's face betrayed his answer before he even spoke. "Shit. Damn if that isn't her."

"Ha!" Scott's short, jubilant laugh escaped before he could stop it. "You've seen her!"

"Yeah, hadta be a while back, about a month before it really started spreading, really took off. We still had radios and TV back then."

"So - maybe March? Or April?" Scott had no idea when broadcast communications had stopped; he only knew that they'd been out by the time he'd gotten out of the prison.

"March, I think. Yeah, probably March."

"Where? Where did you see her?" The man's eyes clouded over as he concentrated. Scott waited impatiently. The man was older, yes, old enough to have gone all grey, but he didn't look so old as to have memory problems yet. He had to remember where, he just had to.

"I wanna say Michigan, but I'm not a hundred percent sure. I was goin' west from Detroit, started followin' Lake Michigan, stopped in a park somewhere along the way and that's where she was. For some reason, that word - Michigan - it sticks out in my mind. Hadta be somewhere near the lake, I think."

"In Michigan state, then?" Scott had expected the man to say - over that hill, or around that bend. Not Michigan, thousands of miles away. Still, it was a lead, somewhere to start looking.

"I think so........can't remember for sure. Somewhere near the Michigan/Indiana border. Close to the lake. I'm pretty sure of that."

Scott nodded and pumped the man's hand. "Thanks. Thanks. I can't thank you enough."

The man nodded gruffly in reply. "Best be on your way, then." Scott gleefully agreed, and headed southeast, toward the great lakes.

"Wha?" Marie sleepily raised herself up and looked in the general direction of the light and pained voice.

"Get up. It's time. I'm having contractions." Marie gulped at that, fully awake now.

"Logan - Logan, wake up! Jean's having the baby." Marie scrambled out of bed, unmindful of her nakedness, and pulled on a pair of Logan's boxers and a tank top. "What do we do?" she queried of Jean as she dressed.

"Just do what I tell you," Jean ground out. "I'm going downstairs, to the couch. I'll have the baby there. Get some blankets to cover it with, and some towels. Get the little suction device, and the baby blanket." Marie nodded, her head bobbing and hair wiggling, as Logan slowly emerged from their bed, also opting for boxers and a tank top.

"OK. OK, I'll get those things. Do you need any help getting downstairs?"

"Logan can carry m - oooh!" Jean doubled over with the contraction, and Logan moved to her side, waiting for her to ride it out. When she straightened a bit, he scooped her up.

"C'mon, Jeannie. Just hang on to my neck." Marie scrambled down the stairs behind them, and hurried to gather the things they'd need.

Scott rounded the hill, and looked out over the lake. This town had been called Benton Harbor; he didn't notice a harbor, but he supposed there had been one, once. He'd started this journey about ten days ago at Benton Harbor and had worked his way to the northernmost Michigan shore town along the big lake. Having come up empty, he was retracing his steps back south. He'd thought that Logan would've wanted to be as far north as possible; maybe that he'd even crossed over into Canada from there. But Scott had found no sign of them. Moreover, something kept pulling him back south, along the lake. He'd had this odd dream - Scott hardly ever had dreams that he remembered, at least not pleasant ones - but in this dream, Jean was smiling up at him, and rocking his baby in her arms. Even though part of him knew it was most likely just his wishful mind at work, the dream called him south; it was the only word Jean had whispered to him in the dream, and it was, quite frankly, the most he had to go on at this point.

The only problem was that Scott was running out of 'south'. The Indiana border loomed less than a good day's walk away, and the man back in Alberta had said he remembered Michigan, not Indiana. Of course, that could just be because he'd remembered the name of the lake - Jean could have come through anywhere along the four-state shoreline. Scott simply had no way of knowing now. Resolving to play it out, Scott continued along the road, keeping the lake in his sights, off to the right. He walked with a redoubled urgency in his step - he knew that Jean should be close to delivery now. With any luck, there was still a small chance of making it in time.

He walked mindlessly south, seeing no living soul and nothing of interest until he'd nearly run out of Michigan. He was just about to take a rest, to think over whether to search further inland or just go ahead and cross over into Indiana, when he saw it. It was one of those horribly non- descript road signs, the kind that line every major thoroughfare in nearly every civilized country - or at least those that had been once civilized. It was half-hidden behind a tree, and Scott had walked past it before it had registered. He stopped in his tracks, backed up (literally - he walked the few steps back to the sign in reverse) and cleared back the obstructing branches, just to make sure he'd seen it right and had not hallucinated it. The sign said 'Michigan City, IN - 42 miles.' *Michigan* City. Forty-two miles *south* on the lakefront highway. Forty-two miles it was a little more than a good day's walk, but Scott suddenly felt like he could make it in no time at all. Michigan City - his gut told him that was it, and he hurried to follow the road south.

Marie cleaned up while Logan moved Jean from the couch in the living room back upstairs to her bed. She gave thanks that all had gone well - it had taken nearly forty hours of labor and more than a little swearing by all parties involved, but the birth of Christopher Scott Summers had been blessedly free of serious complications. There had been a definite 'ewww' factor when Marie had to put her hand into the birth canal to rotate Christopher so that he was coming out of the womb a little more head-first and a little less shoulder-first, but it was a small price to pay for a beautiful, healthy baby.

"Got Jeannie settled with the kid. She said she needs some of that dry milk for her and somethin' with carbohydrates in it."

"We've got pretzels or bread and I'll mix up some of the milk." Not for the first time, Marie thanked God they had running water in the house. She didn't fancy a hike down the cliff to the lake at 3 am. "Is she doing OK?"

"Yep. They both smell good." Logan's senses had come in handy during the delivery. He could not only smell trouble, but he could also monitor the heart rate of mother and baby nearly as well as the most sophisticated equipment would've. "Um, you know what Jeannie said, that didn't mean anythin', right?"

"I know." She'd made more than a few snide remarks to Marie, in the throes of the pain, but Marie had shrugged most of them off. The one that had hit home was an accident, Marie's rational mind knew. Jean had no way of knowing that her captors had called her that name, or that hearing it again would hit a nerve. Logically, Marie knew that, but she still had to leave the room for a few minutes to gather herself when it had happened.

"You're not a - you know, that word."

"It was just the pain."

"Logan, I know. It's just a word. Kitty and Jubes and I - we used to call each other 'bitch' all the time - just joking, you know? It doesn't mean anything, I know that."

"Some," Marie allowed. "But I bet Jean was hurting more. I can't imagine having to be pregnant and having a baby without the father. I know she's - it was the physical pain plus everything else."

"I know you two don't exactly get along."

"Yeah, well, she gets a free pass when in labor. I'm just glad they're both OK."

"Hey," Logan came up behind her, resting both hands on her shoulders. "I know this isn't the best time to be askin', but whaddya think? Wanna have a little one, one day?"

"You're right, this isn't a good time to be asking," Marie teased, turning to face him and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. "But I'd like to, one day. I want to - to get myself together a little more - or a lot more - before we do, though. OK?"

Logan nodded, and returned her gentle kiss. "OK. And you can call me whatever you want when you're in labor."

"Don't push your luck, woman." Marie smiled, and returned to cleaning up.

Scott reached Michigan City just before dawn - he'd forgone rest to make ground. He wandered toward the lake front. The man had said he'd seen her in a park, and the lake front one seemed to be the biggest in the town; he'd start there. If you'd asked Scott what he was looking for, he couldn't have told you. He only knew he was looking for something - some sign, some clue to lead him to Jean. He wandered along the park until he'd reached its western edge. He combed the grounds, looking through trash cans, under picnic tables, behind bushes, hoping for something, anything he recognized. He finally found something - it was iffy, but in Scott's state of mind, it was enough to go on.

It was a matchbook, from one of Bobby's old haunts, lying in the dirt and mud beneath the picnic table. It had to be a sign - what would a matchbook from a Westchester diner be doing in Indiana if it wasn't from Bobby? Scott picked it up, and followed the road out of the park, headed west.

"We got a problem." The only thing more grave than his words was the expression on his face. Marie felt her heart beat a little faster.

"Nah." Logan moved to sit beside her on the sand. She'd gone out to watch the sun set after doing some chores. It was a beautiful sunset - fiery orange and red. Marie had been thinking about trying to convince Logan to take her into town, to see if she could find a canvas and some art supplies. She'd been wanting to take up painting ever since she was a child, and she'd been thinking lately that now would be a good time to try. Hobbies, though, were suddenly the furthest thing from her mind. "Jeannie's sick. She's coughin'."

Marie just gaped at him for a few moments. "But - but she's been OK, all this time. She's got to be immune, she has to be."

"She's gotta be," Logan agreed, head hung, "or the baby's gotta be. They shared the same blood, the same body, Marie, and if the baby had the immunity, but not her......."

"Oh my God," Marie whispered.

"Yeah. Darlin', she's - she's kinda in denial 'bout it. She kept sayin' that she's fine, tellin' me to go away. I asked her if she wanted you instead but she said no. We're gonna hafta - we gotta keep an eye on her. When she gets bad, she won't be able to take care of the kid no more."

"But, Logan - how are we going to take care of him? We don't have - he needs her milk, he needs Jean to breast-feed him. We don't have formula or anything or fresh milk or - or anything."

Logan grimaced. "I know. I'm gonna go inta town and see if I can find some that hasn't expired - formula, that is. We'll hafta mix it with dry milk."

"Dunno. All we got."

Marie's face pinched. "Are you sure? Are you sure it's not just a cold or something?"

"My nose don't lie, darlin'. Wish it did."

"Stick close to the house, huh? Keep an ear out for her. It won't be long. I'll be back as fast as I can. I'm gonna take the truck - it's an emergency." Marie nodded, and tears welled up in her eyes. "It's gonna be OK. We're gonna take care of Jeannie, and then the baby. We're gonna see that he survives, we are, Marie." She nodded again, and he kissed her forehead before taking his leave.

Marie gave herself a moment to gather her emotions, and looked up at the sunset. It looked less beautiful and much more angry now - those reds reminded her of blood, not warmth, now. She took a deep breath, and headed for the house.

Logan sorted through the small convenience store closest to the house. He remembered seeing a baby section when he'd been here to loot supplies for the house before, but he couldn't remember exactly what they had. He eventually found the formula shelf and picked through each small can of mix, checking the expiration dates and trying to remember exactly what date it was today. Things like calendars and dates had become fairly meaningless given the situation. Until now, that is.

As he gathered all the cans that he surmised were still good, he caught a strange-yet-familiar scent on the wind. It was a person, somewhere upwind, and not too far. It wasn't altogether surprising, but Logan internally grumbled that now was the least opportune time for this shit. A few people had followed Route 20 before, going east or west or wherever, and Logan had simply laid low and waited them out or kicked their ass, as he thought appropriate. He let out a growl of frustration - he didn't have time for either option at the moment. He had to get back to the house.

However, there was something familiar, just a tickle of it, in this scent, and that caught Logan's curiosity. Poking his head out of the convenience store, he was startled to see a man wearing shorts and a polo top - and a distinctive visor - heading toward him. "Summers?" Logan called, getting the man's attention.

Scott stopped in his tracks and searched out the source of the voice. Finding it, Scott let out a joyful whoop and began running toward Logan along the long-abandoned highway. He didn't realize that Logan seemed positively unhappy to see him until he got within arm's reach. He hugged his former comrade anyway. "Good to see you, man."

"Yeah," Logan sighed, not returning the embrace, but not pulling away either. "Look - "

"Is Jean with you? Is she OK? Did she have the baby? Is she - "

"Jean's here," Logan confirmed, bracing one hand against Scott's shoulder. "She had the baby. She's - " Scott let out a joyful, uninhibited whoop, and looked as though he was about to hug Logan again or begin jumping up and down, but Logan put his other hand to Scott's shoulder before he could do either. "She's sick," Logan intoned.

"Sick? Were there complications during the delivery. Is the baby OK? Is it - "

"Baby's fine. There weren't any complications. But Jeannie - she's sick, Scott. She's got it, she's got Legacy."

"Legacy?" Scott stumbled back from Logan, shaking his head. "It can't be. She's - she's survived all this time, long enough to have the baby, and - and - are you sure it's not just a cold or something else?"

"It's Legacy." Logan tapped his nose with a profoundly sad expression written across his features.

"No. No. It can't be Legacy, it can't be. She survived, she didn't get sick. It can't be Legacy. Not now, not after all this, not now. No. It can't be, it just can't be. No. No."

"She's back at the house with the baby. I'll take you to 'em. C'mon." Logan headed off to the SUV after retrieving the formula he'd come for, without looking back to see if Scott was following. In a moment, he joined Logan in the SUV and they were off.

Jean lay in bed, coughing sporadically. Intellectually, she knew what was happening to her; the metallic taste of blood in her mouth wasn't a subtle clue. But emotionally, she could not process it. She just couldn't. She refused to even think about it, preferring to rock her newborn son in her arms and coo to him.

It was in that position that Scott finally found her - sitting up in bed, cradling his unbelievably beautiful and so very tiny son, bearing a small droplet of blood on her lower lip. When he burst in the door, she looked up in irritation at first, but her face soon painted over in joy. "Scott?!"

"Jean," he sighed, rushing to her side. "Oh, Jean, I've been looking for you for so long." He took her and his son into his embrace as Logan shut the door behind him. Private things needed to be said and done now, he knew, and he did not envy the other man having to carry them out.

"Are you all right? Are you - what happened after we left, Scott? Did you - "

"Shhh. Shhh. It's not important now. I'll - I'll tell you all about it later, OK?" His voice broke, but he quickly recovered. "Look at this little guy."

"He's your son," Jean beamed up at him. "He's your son, Scott."

"So beautiful," he murmured, lowering his forehead to meet Christopher's. "Gets that from his mom, you know." Jean's brilliant smile shone for just a moment. She looked happier than she had since this had all begun. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner."

"It's OK," Jean struggled out, through happy tears. "You found me. Oh, Scott, I didn't want to leave you there. I didn't want to. I thought about going back and - "

"No. No, no. I wanted you to go, you had to. It was the right thing. For all of us." Christopher let out a gurgle at that.

"What happened to you?" Jean inquired with a wince.

"Not now," Scott repeated. "I'm OK, and we have more important things to talk about." Jean nodded, and let the tears fall, burying her head against his shoulder.

It went quickly. That night, coughing could be heard nearly constantly, and the coughs got progressively weaker. Logan ran up formula at two-hour intervals but otherwise, Logan and Marie left them to have these last hours together, as a family. Marie was also busy shedding more than a few tears of her own, some in relief that Scott was alive, but most in sympathy for all he had suffered and what they were all about to suffer.

Logan sat next to her on the downstairs couch, across from the one Jean had given birth on, and encouraged her to curl up in his embrace. "At least he found her in time," Logan mused softly. "At least he can say goodbye."

Marie nodded and sniffled. "It's going to be so awful for him."

"I know," Logan answered gravely.

Marie looked up at him. "He's really going to need us. I know he's never been your favorite, but...."

"Jeannie's never been yours either, but you were there for her when it counted, and even if it didn't change things between ya, it's what mattered. I know he needs us now."

Marie sighed, and rested her head back down, trying not to listen to the coughs coming from upstairs.

Scott fed Christopher, watching Jean's labored breathing become more difficult with each passing moment. She'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few hours, and the end was near, Scott knew. He'd said all the important things, he thought - he'd told her that he loved her, that he loved her so much it still amazed him, that he loved her more than his own life. He'd told her that he was proud of her, and never moreso than for bringing his son into the world. He told her that he'd never forget her, and that he'd tell Christopher all about her, every single detail.

The child squirmed in his arms, indicating that he was done feeding. Scott gently disengaged the bottle and hefted him over his shoulder for a burp. As he patted his son's back, Jean's eyes rolled open. "Scott......."

"Right here, sweetheart. I'm right here." He reached out to hold her hand for good measure and watched her lips curl into a small smile.

"Why........me.......why...did you........love me......."

"Why? Oh Jean, how could I not?" Her smile widened at that, and her eyes rolled back closed. With one more wheezing, struggling breath, her chest rose and fell, for the last time. Scott watched her for a few moments, then lay himself and Christopher down beside her, holding them both in his arms. He wanted to do that one more time, to be a complete family, just resting in peaceful silence together. He sent up a small prayer thanking God for giving him that, for granting him at least that small measure of happiness, then kissed Jean one last time and let her go.

In accordance with Scott's wishes, a grave was dug for Jean next to where Jubes, Kitty, and Bobby lay. The ceremony was brief. Scott said a few words, and helped Logan fill the grave after he was done. Marie cared for Christopher while the men worked, reflecting on his similarities with his mother - the same coloring, the same smile, the same nose. He had many of Scott's qualities too - those unbelievable cheekbones, the long fingers, the eyes the same shade of blue that Scott's had been before the mutation hit. He really was a beautiful child.

"You're going to be a heartbreaker when you grow up, aren't you?" she cooed to the baby, and he gurgled and flailed his arms in response.

Scott approached her from behind, followed closely by Logan. "How's he doing?"

"He's fine. He's such a good baby." She held him out to his father, who eagerly took him. "I'm so sorry, Scott."

"Thank you," he acknowledged with a whisper.

"You stayin' on here for a while, then?" Logan inquired. "Got plenty of space."

"I think I will, if you two don't mind. I - I could use some friends right now. It's been a long time since I - since I've talked to anyone I know." Marie gave him an understanding smile, and Logan contributed a gruff nod.

"C'mon, let's go in. Got some deer from the other day for dinner. 'Bout time for his feedin' too, huh?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "Thanks. Thanks for letting me stay and for taking care of them until I finally got here. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Marie said simply, as they turned toward home.