A series by November

Chapter 86: A Beautiful Sparkling Night

On Fridays Logan taught three classes and on Friday nights he generally fell into bed exhausted. November seventh was no different. In his sleep he’d registered the sounds of Marie and Maggie watching TV, and later, of Marie crawling into bed with him.

He woke shortly after one in the morning, which was unusual. His first thought was that it was time for the baby, as Marie’s due date was two days past and she had recently “passed a mucus plug,” whatever that meant, but Marie was sleeping peacefully next to him.

He shifted quietly and wrapped his arms around her, his brain slowly waking up and trying to figure out what was different. Her breathing was smooth and even. He touched her belly which had dropped a bit in the last two weeks and felt nothing out of the ordinary. But something was different. There was another scent to her, something other than the usual pregnancy scent.

His heightened sense of smell was very emotionally cross-wired. There were good smells and bad smells. He had learned to take the emotions seriously. This wasn’t a bad smell, just different. He knew it meant something.

He slipped from the bed, knowing that there was no way he’d sleep again tonight. He got up and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He ate quietly, leaning over the kitchen island, reading yesterday‘s paper in the dim light from the oven.

He knew Maggie was out of bed before she appeared in the doorway. “Sorry Blue, didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t wake me. Is the baby coming?”

“Maybe. Mom’s asleep.”

“Something’s different.”

“Yeah. It might be time.”

Maggie yawned. “I’m hungry too.” she pulled a stool up to the island and sat. They sat quietly in the dark kitchen, not needing light, him eating cereal, she eating a banana.

“Do you smell it too?” he asked.

Maggie sniffed. “I think so.”

“You excited to get a baby sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t believe I’ll have two little girls.” He chuckled softly. “Hey kid, when this baby is born we’ll all have my name but you. We should go to court and fix that.”

Maggie grinned. More than anything, she loved to belong. “Magdalene Leigh Christensen. That’s a lot of syllables.”

“Christensen has the same number as D’Ancato.”

“And Gramma Mariah isn’t a Christensen anymore.”

“She still is. She’s just Christensen-Xavier.”

“Now that’s a lot of syllables.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I like Christensen better than D’Ancato.”

“Me too.” The name D’Ancato to him was forever associated with Max. Marie would always be just Marie in his mind.

In her dream, Marie felt the ache in her womb. She suddenly remembered the scene in the bathroom, the vomit, the blood, the sensation of choking, little Logan. She twisted in her sleep, waking up with a harsh gasp. Logan was gone.

She sat up and blinked and realized that she was at home. Through the open door she could see that Maggie’s door was open and the nightlight was spilling out into the living room. The dull ache in her uterus thrummed and fluttered. Was she losing the baby? She cupped herself just to make sure, but she was dry.

She wasn’t losing the baby, she was having the baby, or at least coming close to it. She’d been having strange Braxton-Hicks contractions all week. Where the hell was Logan?

Rogue walked sleepily into the kitchen and turned on the light. “What are you guys doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Maggie said, blinking.

“We think you’re in labor.”Logan said, putting his spoon back into the cereal bowl.

Marie blinked sleepily and tried to process that. “Huh?”

“You smell different.” Logan explained.

“No kidding.”

"Yeah. You smell like something's gonna happen," Maggie said.

“Why are you up?” Logan asked.

"Hmm. Well it's starting to hurt, so I think I might be in early labor."

Maggie shrieked. “Yay!”

“Calm down, Magster. I said early. This could take until tomorrow.”

Maggie stepped down from the stool to let Rogue sit. She did, awkwardly. Her belly was enormous under her blue nightie. She reached for a banana and began eating as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Should you be eating?” Logan worried.

“I’m fuckin’ hungry,” Maggie giggled.

“I’m getting Jean.”

“The hell you will. Sit down and chill.”

When Rogue finished her banana she downed a glass of milk. Then she polished off a bowl of leftover mac and cheese and a ham sandwich. Logan and Maggie watched her eat and giggled. She made a silly face at them and stuck out her tongue. They giggled. She giggled too. Soon the whole family was sitting around the island laughing for no reason at all.

“Oh, god,” Rogue said, touching her belly.

“What’s wrong?” Logan blanched.

“Relax Logan. Just a contraction.”

“Haven’t you been having contractions for two weeks?”

“Those were Braxton-Hicks contractions, Mags. This is... a little different.” Fucking painful, was what she wanted to say. But it wasn't pain, exactly, it just felt that her belly had densified, becoming hard as a rock.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get Jean?”

“I’m sure. Let’s go for a walk.” Rogue was wide awake, body coursing with hormones.

“A walk? It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Well I for one am not planning on going to sleep.” So Logan grudgingly agreed to go for a walk with Rogue, albeit a short one.

“Can I come?”

“Of course Bluebell. Get dressed and put on your coat.”

The November night was unseasonably warm and breezy. A full moon silvered the grounds and the three of them walked. For all her life Maggie would remember this as the night that her sister was born, a beautiful sparkling night when Rogue held one hand, Logan held the other, and they were a family of three for the last time.

But, one lap around the mansion was as far as they got before Logan freaked out and insisted on waking Jean up. Rogue rolled her eyes and let him. Jean insisted on examining Rogue in the medlab much to Logan’s horror and Rogue told him to calm down. The exam showed just what they thought, that Rogue was in early labor, that the baby was in no distress, and that everything was fine.

Jean loaded a cart with supplies and walked it to their suite. Rogue was buzzing around the apartment, cleaning, putting things in order. Logan begged her to lie down but she refused. “It’s okay,” Jean said.

He protested, and Jean said “Logan. Hallway. Now.”

Though much older, Jean had learned that voice from Rogue. He complied. Rogue never knew what Jean said to him but when they came back in he was much more subdued. She vacuumed and dusted for a good hour before getting tired. Maggie put the rubber mattress cover on the bed and made it with old linens, as Rogue asked her to. Jean told them to call her when the contractions were more than five minutes apart, if the water broke, or at five, whichever came first.

Logan brought the TV into the bedroom and the three of them watched Cartoon Network. Maggie dozed off around three thirty and Marie nodded off between contractions. Logan was wide awake, hand on Marie’s belly, watching, waiting.

At four thirty there was a quiet knock on the door. Logan jumped up and answered it. It was Xavier.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Naw, Chuck, come on in.”

“I was picking up some projections from you and Rogue.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay, you didn’t wake me. I just doesn’t hope your mother doesn’t wake up. She’ll be down here fussing like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Naw, we already got me doing that. Want a drink?”

“I’d love one.”

“Scotch?”

“That would be lovely.”

Logan returned from the kitchen with a Scotch for Charles and a whiskey for him. “To your granddaughter,” Logan said, raising his glass.

“To our granddaughter. “ Charles repeated, smiling. “Have you picked out a name yet?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“That’s a surprise.”

“How’s Rogue?”

“She’s sleepin', on and off. Let me see if she’s up. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“No, Logan, don’t disturb her.”

“It’s okay.” In actuality it unnerved him to not have Marie within his sight. He peeked into the bedroom and she was watching the TV drowsily, rubbing her belly. She and Maggie were tangled up, Maggie half-asleep.

“You okay, Marie?”

“Just crampy. Trying to sleep while I can.”

“Chuck’s here.”

“Really?” She started to climb awkwardly out of bed.

“Honey, rest. You don’t have to get up.”

“It’s okay. Walking helps.” He offered her his hands and she let him hoist her up. She put on a robe and walked out into the living room.

“Hi Charles,” she said quietly, shutting the bedroom door so as not to wake Maggie.

“Rogue. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m trying to shit out a Shetland pony. Otherwise, I’m okay.”

He burst out laughing, then covered his mouth to keep quiet. It was at times like this, sleep-relaxed and laughing, that he seemed twenty years younger.

“God, wish I could have some of that.” Rogue eyed the whiskey Logan held.

“This time tomorrow, you can.” Logan smiled and they exchanged a warm secret glance.

We’re gonna have a baby. The reality of it was new and sweet and still completely unbelievable.

“You ready to be a grampa?” Rogue asked.

“Absolutely.”

“You’ve had good practice.”

“I guess so. It’s funny, Rogue, I thought of you as my daughter long before I married Logan’s mother.”

Rogue smiled sweetly. “We’re all your kids. There’s nothing special about me.”

“I beg to differ, Rogue. Jean was first, then Scott, the son and daughter I could never have. And Storm and Hank and you, especially. You’re my children.” He raised his glass and drank.

Marie smiled, tears in her eyes. “Aw, Chuck, if it wasn’t so damn hard for me to get up I’d hug you.”

“Maggie and I had a little talk before you woke up.” Logan said.

“Oh?”

“I want to adopt Maggie, change her name.”

Rogue grinned again. “You two are gonna make me cry.”

“That’s wonderful. God forbid, should something happen to Rogue, you need to have legal custody of Maggie.”

“He’s right, Logan.”

“Give Dean Tierney a ring. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Ohshit!” Marie yelped. Both men stared at Marie who felt something shift inside her.