A series by November

Chapter 88: The Craft of the Father

"Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman's work,
This woman's world,
Oh, it’s hard on the man.
Now starts the craft of the father...”
--Kate Bush

Hank cradled the baby in his huge hands, rubbed her fingers and toes, and gently cleaned her at the foot of the bed as she began to cry.

"Logan, would you like to cut the cord?"

Logan blanched and looked like a deer in headlights. "I'll take that as a no." Hank snipped the umbilical cord nonchalantly and wrapped her up in a blanket.

Hank met Logan's eyes and held Charlotte out to him. "Oh my god," Logan said. He took her with shaking hands and brought her to Marie.

Charlotte was a tiny pink shrieking thing, head covered in soft brown curls, body covered in gossamer hair, tight pink fists flailing. "Oh my god," Marie said in a high warbling voice. She felt a bizarre tugging sensation down below but didn't pay much attention. "Oh my god, she's so pretty."

"She's hairy."

"That's called lanugo, it should fall out in a few days."

"As soon as we deliver the placenta you can nurse," Jean said.

"Hey you, don't cry," Marie cooed, swaying with the baby.

As if by magic, Charlotte stopped crying. Maggie crawled up on to the bed.

"Hi baby," Maggie said in a high sweet voice. "She's prettier than Nate. No offense Jeannie."

"She's beautiful."

"You have a sister, Mags."

Maggie started singing to Charlotte.

"Okay, Rogue, you're done," Jean said. Marie opened her robe and pressed her breast to the baby's face. The baby turned and failed to suckle.

"Okay, this is too wierd," Maggie said and jumped up off the bed. The adults laughed. "I'm gonna go tell professor and grandma."

Again, Marie tried to nurse. It took several minutes but finally Charlotte latched on. Marie shuddered as she began to suck.

"What?" Logan asked.

"This tickles!"

"You're lucky it doesn't hurt. You'll want to keep your nipples moisturized," Jean said. Logan looked at her, bewildered.

Rogue nursed for a while and Maggie came back and climbed back up onto the bed. She handed the camera to Jean. "Get a picture of us."

"Oh, no, Mags..." Marie quickly shook her hair out and pulled her robe shut. Logan leaned in and Marie looked exhausted but radiant. Jean took the picture. The four of them were smiling, a happy family. .

A short while later Charles and Mariah came in. "Come meet your granddaughter," Rogue smiled, pulling her robe close around her. Logan handed Mariah the baby.

She bit her lip as tears flooded her eyes. She swallowed. "I never thought I'd have a chance for a grandbaby." She hugged Logan close. Charles smiled softly.

"I know we're not the first to name a child after you, and we probably won't be the last, but her name is Charlotte," Marie said to him.

He reached for her hand and squeezed. She felt him in her head, an overwhelming specchless sense of gratitude.

.

Marie slept. Logan and Maggie held Charlotte, staring endlessly at the little face and hands and ears and toes. Logan was so happy he felt he might choke.

Jubilee came in with a gift, oohed and aahed over the baby. Then Mariah and Charles came with lunch. Charlotte woke and Logan took her into Marie.

Rogue held Charlotte and nursed her until both she and the baby slept. She could barely keep her eyes open. Logan delicately picked Charlotte up, tucked her pink blanket in tightly, carried her back into the living room.

Maggie sat next to him. “She’s so little.”

“I know.”

“She’s so hairy.”

“Well, I know I’m the dad.” He had a smile Maggie had never seen before, and jealousy briefly flickered inside her.

“What do you think she’ll be when she grows up?”

“I dunno. Maybe she’ll be an astronaut like you.”

“Or a ballerina.”

He tried to picture one of his offspring doing ballet and failed miserably. “I bet she’ll be an X-Woman.”

“I bet. I’m gonna be an X-Woman.”

“Over my dead body.” He looked directly at her, eyebrow up, and she smiled smugly.

“Am so.”

“No you’re not.” He grinned. He was smart enough to know when he’d lost a battle, even one eleven years in the future. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Bluebell? You haven't slept all night.”

“Yeah.”

He hugged Maggie. “Love you, kid.”

“You too.”

Maggie went to bed. Logan continued to hold Charlotte. He sat with her and walked with her and he watched her sleep and wake up and cry and when he put her to Marie’s breast she suckled greedily. Marie's eyes fluttered sleepily open and she would cradle the baby in a half-asleep surreal state of mind, until she had her fill of the rich colostrum. Logan would then take Charlotte and hold her until she burped and slept. He did this throughout the afternoon, and into evening. He watched her in the changing light. He changed her first diaper, lifting an eyebrow at color of the foul substance within it. Then he held her some more.

When he watched her sleep the horrors of the labs seemed far away. But in a way they also felt closer at hand. The stakes were higher, his responsibility greater. They would love to have a mutant born to the Wolverine and the Rogue. To protect the tiny child sleeping in his arms would be the greatest task he'd ever have in his life. He felt warm and calm but also as if he would never relax again.

In the late evening Marie emerged from the bedroom. She smelled of exertion and blood.

“Hey darlin’.”

"Hey." She sat gingerly next to him and winced. “You bonding with the critter?” She reached for the baby.

“Yeah. You okay?”

“Just sore. What time is it?”

“Ten-ish.”

She cradled the baby, who woke and made a high warbling noise. “Hey critter.” Marie put her finger into the inner curve of baby fingers and Charlotte gripped tight. “Hey there. You’re so strong. Yes you are.” Logan watched her smile and he felt something warm within him.

The days were brisk yet eternal, time marked by wakings and feedings and changings. Charlotte had a sunny disposition and they quickly learned which of her cries meant hunger, which meant a wet diaper, and which meant she was tired. When she slept, they slept. Logan came and went to teach his classes and Mariah came to cook, but Marie stayed in the apartment, either sleeping or nursing or looking after Maggie. She only left to teach twice a week.

Time passed this way for weeks, marked by not days or hours but by the needs of the baby.

When Charlotte was about a month old Logan woke one night to hear a high weak cry that made his blood run cold.