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Author's Chapter Notes:
This takes place years after X3. Marie took the cure, it was permanent, and the Mutant Registration Act has gone into effect. She has her own life among humans while the world of mutants is thrown into chaos.
A very special thank you to both Laenwyn and JaqofSpades for beta; without you guys, this fic would not be here. Y’all are the greatest!
“Why won’t you look at me?” Logan shook her as if the movement might make the words come out.

“Is it?” he demanded. “Talk to me. Is that our son?!”

Marie shoved at his hands, trying to remove the grip he had on her.

“Let me go, Logan,” she hissed at him.

“Not until you answer me,” he growled in return.

“You’re causing a scene, the neighbors will see,” she tried pleading.

“I don’t give a damn what the neighbors see! Answer me!”

Marie’s eyes were clear as they sliced through him.

“Why are you asking me when you already know the answer?”

Using his moment of shock to break his hold, she rushed into the house with Logan right on her heels.

“Marie!” he shouted down the hall, following her to the kitchen.

Her name was a plea and a prayer. Please, don’t let it be true because his was not a legacy worth passing on. Oh God, let it be true, because he could think of nothing more beautiful.

Marie moved to put the table between the two of them and realized that until now, she’d never seen Logan shake with fear. His eyes were trained on her and in them she saw hurt, and his need to hear her say the words. She tried to make them come out evenly, feigning a calm she didn’t feel.

“Yes Logan. He’s our son…of course he is.”

Logan let his knees go, knowing they wouldn’t fully support him anyway, and fell onto a stool. He pressed his palms against the cool tile of the table top and stared down, not seeing anything. He saw nothing and everything at the same time.

Everything they had shared when they were lovers. Every promise, every whispered word he’d meant for no one else but her, for Marie. He’d always blinded himself to the pain he’d put her through back then, but it was right in front of him now. He was responsible for hurting the one person he’d promised to take care of. He’d left, so she’d cut him out of her life like a tumor. But she’d kept the child a secret. She’d kept his son from him. It was a betrayal as painful as any he had inflicted. The rush of conflicting emotion was immediate and so intense that he could only choose one. He chose anger.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked with venom in his voice.

“How could I? You weren’t around.”

“You could’ve found me! You know damn well you could’ve found me. I had a right to know!”

“Yeah you did, but no, I couldn’t find you,” she argued, “and I’d be damned if I was going to spend my whole life looking for a man who didn’t want to be found. I wasn’t going to hunt you down to tell you that now you had the one thing you didn’t want. Never mind being anchored to me … how ‘bout me and a baby? And I sure as hell didn’t want your pity or guilt.”

“Well I guess you showed me then, didn’t you?” he bit off sharply.

“Fuck you, Logan.” Her voice held a cold fury that had been locked away so long it was numbing.

She put both hands on the island and leaned down into his face to meet him eye to eye.

“It wasn’t about showing you a goddamn thing. You left. This is exactly what you didn’t want and you left. If you’d ever had a change of heart, you could’ve found *me*.”

Marie turned her back on him then, walking to the sliding glass door to watch her child play outside. His child … their child. When she wasn’t looking at him with those eyes he knew so well, those eyes that could console or condemn him, his hands itched with the need to reach out and touch her, feel her under his fingertips. Sometimes he wished that for just a moment her mutation would return, just so he could touch her and make her understand.

Another lifetime seemed to pass in silence before Logan spoke.

“How old is he?” she heard the gravelly voice ask from behind her.

“Just turned four.”

Logan used it to reference how long ago he’d left. He’d been right; it was almost five years ago.

“What’s his name?”

“Charles,” she answered, placing a fingertip on the glass.

Charles. He had a son named after the most powerful and gifted person he’d ever met; someone who’d given him and Marie a home and a chance. He liked the name.

The tiles beneath Logan’s hands came into focus now; anger no longer his strongest emotion. He glanced back at Marie, watching her watch Charles. They could hurt each other like no one else could, but still, here they were. He’d missed out on so much, too much time that he couldn’t get back. It was a cruel joke for someone who had all the time in the world. He moved to stand behind her so he could see what they’d created. Inhaling her scent, the one that was just Marie, he swallowed back the memories flashing before his eyes and focused on the present. Charles was outside, stretched across a swing on his stomach, pushing off the ground and swinging as if flying like a super hero.

“Does he know…what did you tell him about who his father is?” he asked without looking away from the scene.

“What do you mean?”

Marie turned and was gazing up at him now, her arms wrapped around herself, holding her elbows. For the first time, Logan noticed she didn’t wear a ring on her finger.

“I mean, he doesn’t know…about me.”

“I told him that his father had to leave us because of work. That his work was dangerous and it wasn’t safe for us…but that he still loved him. He hasn’t asked for much more than that…yet.”

But he would. Eventually, the boy would want to know the truth.

He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands up his face and through his hair.

“I shoulda been here,” he said simply.

She took a long look at him, thinking he actually appeared a little older than he did years ago. All the recent events showed on his face and today only added to it. She’d never understand all the regret he held onto. He clung to it like a protective shield, but couldn’t see that the shield blocked him off from anything that might heal. She couldn’t stand that look on his face. She preferred him angry, shocked, or viciously mean, anything but the damn guilt. He had left, and it had hurt, but she had moved on, and he needed to know that.

He needed to know that she and Charles had been fine all these years. Better than fine, his childhood had been wonderful for both of them. Motherhood had given Marie a real family, one that loved her unconditionally. She could hug her baby boy, kiss his nose, tuck him in, and rub his cheek like she’d seen another mother do on a train, so long ago. Their family would have been even more wondrous if Logan had been there, but just the two of them had been enough. She needed to show him that; proof that she and Charles were happy.

“Would you like to see some pictures? I mean, of him?”

Logan was lost in thought for a minute and then nodded silently.

Marie went to the hall and Logan eyed her suspiciously as she hauled a large black bag from the closet, rifled through it and pulled out a photo album. Didn’t people usually keep their pictures out on tables, or shelves?

She set the album on the island and motioned for Logan to sit. After stepping outside to tell Charles that she’d be out in a bit, she sat on the other stool and began to flip through the pages.

“This is his first picture from the hospital…he was kinda wrinkly, but I thought he was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.”

The adoration beamed from her face and Logan believed he could feel the warmth radiating off her.

“This is him once we came home. Some…um, friends of the Professor actually helped us get settled in…and…this is us about a week later…when I finally felt decent enough to have my picture taken,” she added with a grin.

He was transfixed by the picture. It was Marie, sitting in a cushioned rocking chair, holding Charles against her for the camera to see. Her face was a little fuller after giving birth and even then all her hair was dyed the same dark shade. It reminded him of how she looked when they first met. Charles had one chubby hand wrapped around her finger, and his eyes were slightly open. Logan wasn’t ready to flip the page and tapped a finger against the clear protective film.

“That’s…that’s a nice one. I like that one.”

Marie, seeing an open opportunity for a goodwill gesture, offered it to him. Even though he shook his head, she insisted as she removed the picture and forced it into his hand.

They flipped through pages of Charles’ early childhood, birthday parties, Christmas mornings, and even though Logan felt his heart wrench at times, he couldn’t help but smile with pride, especially at a picture of the boy with his first toy truck. One thing nagged at him: throughout the album it was mostly Charles and Marie. Other children were pictured, other parents made appearances, but no one person that was consistently with the pair. It was not lost on Logan that there didn’t seem to be anyone significant in Marie’s life other than her son. He looked fondly at the last and most recent photo of the pair at a costumed birthday party. Marie was Snow White and Charles was dressed up like Spiderman.

“You did a good job Marie. You’re a good mother,” he said, looking at her earnestly. He swore she blushed a little at the compliment, but she definitely smiled at him.

Uncomfortable with the moment, Logan cleared his throat and closed the book. Looking once again at his hand that laid across the cover, a sickening thought returned to him. He massaged the grooves of his knuckles nervously.

“Is he - do you know if he’s… you know…like me?” he asked, unsure how to form the question.

Marie knew what he meant. Blinking a few times she told him she didn’t know.

“It’s too early to know anything for sure. He’s years away from puberty and…I couldn’t risk taking him to Hank for testing. I…I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure…yeah.”

She fell quiet before adding, “But better like you than me.”

Logan wasn’t so sure. Thinking back on what was done to him, how he was used to other people’s ends, what was stolen from him, he couldn’t count his mutation as a blessing. It served him well now, but he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, much less his son. What if his boy was just like him? His mutation would manifest eventually and then what? The government and God knows who else would be on him like stink on shit. He wouldn’t let anyone do the things to his son that was done to him. Charles wouldn’t share his fate; he’d make sure of it. No one would ever take that boy from Marie either. He was her life, brought her joy, and Logan would make sure no one ever hurt her by using her child.

His mind was made up. Marie could hate him all she wanted, but he wasn’t going to leave them defenseless. Could he convince them to come with him? Into indefinite hiding – not likely. He couldn’t stay here and not be found. Maybe they could go somewhere off the radar…start off new. The idea appealed to him greatly, for reasons he wasn’t yet able to accept, but he knew she wouldn’t go for that either. The last thing she wanted was him back in her life.

He didn’t care. Whether she’d go for it or not, that’s what had to be done. He wasn’t going to take off and
leave them. If he questioned himself further, he’d know that Charles or no Charles, he wouldn’t leave her again, not now. He couldn’t.

“Marie,” he began slowly, “I need to talk to you about something.”

He looked her in the eye, hoping she’d at least let him finish.

“I think we…”

His sentence was interrupted by the loud, sickening crack of the front door being busted open.
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