How Long Must I Suffer? by Stormfreak Chapter Two: Something Out of the Blue What is up with my healing power? Logan wondered as he took the crimson rag off his leg. The puncture marks had turned purple, and the pain was excruciating. Normally, he would have been healed in no time, but… Logan turned his gaze to the small fiend who had put him in so much pain. Cornelius David Munroe sat at the feet of his mother, Ororo. His gray eyes hadn't left Logan since he sank his small (but ultra-sharp) fangs in his father's calf. He was a small child for going-on-three, but stocky as all get-out. His snow-white hair stood out all over his head, as if his mother disciplined him with lightning shocks. Wolverine glared at the baby hellcat, who growled low in his throat and bared his fangs in return. If he had a tail, it would have been swishing. "Neil," Ororo called sharply. Cornelius swung his toward his mother. With one leap, he was on the couch in a second, nuzzling his head against his mother's breasts. A tiny smile came across Ororo's face, and she stroked her son's head. He purred - downright purred - in response. Neil shut his electric blue eyes, and he looked like a tiny cherub, rather that the demon that had bit Logan just a half-hour ago. "Uhh…" Logan asked, "does he talk, Ro?" "No." "Well…shouldn't he be talking by now?" "I have taken him to numerous doctors," Ororo snapped uncharacteristically. "He has been diagnosed as autistic." Logan felt his heart sink. His son was autistic? Ororo noticed the look on his face, and added, "But I am not so sure. He seems to understand me, and everything around him. He is very bright…he just doesn't speak." She sighed, and absent-mindedly scratched the top of Neil's head. "I suppose he will talk when he is ready, or perhaps never at all." "Maybe he'll talk when you when you quit letting him think he's a cat," Logan joked. A clap of thunder boomed outside. "You had nothing to do with the way my son is today," Ororo said in a low voice. "I will not let you sit in my home and criticize my son." "Your son?" Logan stood up, but a shooting pain forced him to sit back down. "Your son? Storm, I had no idea I had a son!" "You're correct. And you still do not have a son." Logan's eyes blazed. "I won't let you keep me away from him, Ororo! I've been looking for your ass for eight months!" "I did not ask to be found," Ororo said calmly. "I left for a reason." "And what the fuck is the reason!?" Logan felt his blood boiling. "You left me without saying a fucking word about what I did wrong! I've had a son for over two years, and you didn't even tell me! That's not right!" The shouting woke Cornelius. Within half a second, he was on the floor, growling. Wolverine unsheathed his claws. "Come an' get me!" he screamed to the toddler. "LOGAN!" Ororo rose to her feet. "By the Bright Lady, I swear that you will never breathe again if you even think about touching my son!" "He needs a good whippin', that's what he needs!" Logan declared angrily. "What, and you think I will allow you to give it to him!?" "He's MY son!" "Like hell he is!" Ororo shrieked. She strode across the room and looked Wolverine in the eye. "He is no more your son than Remy's or Scott's!" "Storm," Logan said, "you can get a doctor with a bottle of Everclear in one hand and a fat, Jamaican blunt in the other, and the DNA test will still reveal that he's mine." "Maybe in blood, but not in spirit!" "That doesn't mean a damn - WHOA!" Wolverine and Storm were too wrapped up in their argument to notice that Neil was in prime pouncing condition. Now, he was dangling in the air, his jaws firmly wrapped around one of Logan's claws. Neil began to jerk his head left and right, but of course, he couldn't make the blades break. Logan shook his hand back and forth, but Neil wouldn't release his grip, and began to swing wildly. "Logan!" Ororo called, her hands on her slender hips. "By the Goddess, stop that!" Logan lifted his arm to where Neil's eyes locked with his. Neil's glare was so intense for a two-year-old that it was a little comical. Being this close to him helped Logan see that Neil was covered with a nearly invisible coat of silver hair - hairy, like his old man. "You're kinda fast, lil fella," he remarked, and set Neil's kicking feet on the floor. Neil released his grip on Logan's claws, and stood with his shoulders squared, ready for round two. "The boy's a little too big for his britches, ain't he?" "Oh, I'm sure you can still fit into them, Runt," Ororo spat back. She scooped Neil off the floor. Immediately, he turned into a sweet little blue-eyed boy, wrapping his fuzzy arms around his mother's neck. Logan ignored the barb. "You baby him too much." Ororo raised an eyebrow. "Baby him? Baby him? Logan, I'm all he has." "He has me now." "My ass, he has you now. When are you leaving?" Ororo demanded to know. Logan chuckled as he withdrew the rag from his leg. "I'm not." "I beg your pardon!?" "I said I'm not." Logan crossed his injured leg over the other. "You can't stop me from moving to Versailles, Ororo." "What the f-" Ororo moaned. "Why are you doing this to me!?" "To you!?" Logan roared. "You know, that's your damn problem. You still think the sun rises and sets around your ass. This has nothing to do with you. This has to do with my son. Our son. I'm gonna be there for him, whether you like it or not. And Ororo," Logan added, standing up and staring her in the eye. "Don't even think about leaving. Wherever you flee, I'll follow. I found you here, and I'll find you again." He smirked at her as he half-walked, half-limped out of Ororo's house. "Now, what ya gonna 'bout that, honey-chile?" No sooner had Logan stepped foot out the house that the sky grew dark. The winds shrieked. Within seconds, trees were being uprooted out of the ground, hurtling through a pitch-black sky. Rain poured from the Versailles sky in buckets. It knocked Logan off his feet. His body flew through space and hit a fallen tree, causing him to slump to the ground. "Do all you want, Storm!" Wolverine screamed against the winds. "You won't keep me away from my son!" It wasn't until he checked into a hotel that he learned that his adamantium claws had teeny dents in them where Neil's teeth had been. The puncture wound in Logan's calf would be there for the rest of his life. * Logan had entered Ororo's body, three years ago, and the pain had been excruciating. Humiliating. But it was nothing like the pain he inflicted on her heart when he entered her life. Bright Lady, isn't it enough that you have given me a son? I did not complain when Neil took on his looks, his eyes, his mannerisms. Every time I looked at Cornelius, I saw his father's face. Still, I did not forsake you. I always treated my son right, and love him despite his other half. But did you have to bring him back into my life? Into my house? Goddess, how long must I suffer for my sins? Ororo looked down in the crib in which her son slept. Neil was sleeping on his back, in that weird sprawled eagle position that couldn't have been comfortable. His mouth was wide open, and Ororo could see his tongue half-hanging out. A warm feeling spread into Ororo's chest. Cornelius. Her little Neil. Her Tasmanian devil-baby. Her wild child. Her heart and soul. Just like his father. * If Ororo was less than thrilled about Logan moving to Versailles, their son was far angrier. To make matters worse, Logan was hired as a maintenance man for St. Dominic's Finishing School for Ladies. It wasn't an ideal job, especially not for Wolverine. Being around a slew of rich, giggling boarding school girls with sex on their minds made Logan more than a little nervous. He wasn't trying to catch a case, especially not overseas. He actually had to request to only work the day shift, because the older girls liked to flounce around in their skimpiest sleepwear on the nights Logan worked. He hated the job, but it paid very well, and it gave Logan a chance to see Cornelius every day. Logan learned the hard way that the title "daddy" is one that is to be earned, not given. Quite simply, his son hated him. On the few days that Logan did come to visit, Neil put on an act that ranged from disgruntled toddler to rabid dog. He spent the majority of his time crouched low on his haunches, staring at Logan with his piercing gray eyes. Neil wouldn't let his father within a three feet radius of him, and after that attack at Ororo's school, Wolverine didn't push the issue. The strange thing was, Neil seemed like a very happy child. Logan learned that his perceptions were all wrong when it came to his baby boy. He wasn't a mama's boy, so to speak; he was just very protective of her. Neil loved Ororo dearly. Ororo took Neil to St. Dominic's adjoining daycare center in the daytime, but he was always sitting at his mother's feet by noon, lazing in the afternoon sun. Sometimes, he would sit absolutely still, listening to his mother's melodic voice as she lectured her class. Other times, he was less than well-behaved. One day, little Neil disrupted the 2:15 class by chasing (with a blinding speed for a child) after a bunny. A young lady grew so frightened when the bunny jumped on her textbook that she flung her book (not to mention the rabbit) high into the air. Logan reacted without thinking, and within half a second, he had a small, brown-and-white speckled rabbit in his arms. "Logan!" Ororo jumped, startled. "Hey." Logan wasn't really looking at Ororo. He was eyeing his son, who was staring up at him with astonishment. "I wanna give it to him, but I'm afraid that he'll rip it to pieces with his teeth," he half-joked nervously. But he was half-serious, too. Neil had been chasing that rabbit with a gleam in his eye that wasn't natural for a two-year-old…or anyone, for that matter. "Here." Ororo took the bunny from Logan's hand. It was shivering, poor thing, from all the excitement. "Cornelius!" she called. "Come here." Neil, who was still gazing at Logan, backed up to his mother. "Come sit in my lap." He did as he was told. "Now, hold out your hands, and be very careful." She set the tiny creature in Neil's arms. The rabbit, which wasn't accustomed to being handled in such a way, keeled over in a dead faint. Neil turned his head and looked at his mother with terror in his eyes. "It's okay, Cornelius," Logan said gently. He walked over to Neil and knelt down to his eye level. "Your rabbit is okay. He's just sleeping. Here. Take your hand and pet his head - gently, now." Neil stared at his father distrustfully, but did as he was told. The creature moved his left ear, then grew still again. It was obvious that he was still alive by the way his midsection expanded and contracted. "See? He'll be just fine." Cornelius looked at Logan, then back at his new pet. He lifted it to eye level, sniffed it suspiciously, then smiled and kissed its twitching nose. And for the first time, Neil looked at his father with something other than contempt. It was far from love, or even acceptance, but for now, it was enough for Logan. * The weeks rolled by, turning into months. Logan found himself gazing out of a window for nearly ten minutes before he realized that it was actually snowing. Logan had been in Versailles for six months. His son had turned three. Ororo still was hardly speaking to him, but at least she wasn't treating him like garbage. Their conversations were short, limited only to the subject of Cornelius. But the fact that Ororo even bothered to update Logan at all was a shock. Shortly before Christmas, Logan was working on the furnace in the basement when Ororo burst in, breathless. "Logan!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, hurry! I need your help!" "What's wrong?" Logan asked, his heart rising in his throat. "It's Neil! He's ill - and he's vomiting everywhere-" Neil had come down with a raging fever. By the end of the day, it was compounded with strep throat. Cornelius' throat was so coated in white that he could barely eat, let alone growl or cry. It was a bad blow, considering that he was too young to read and write and didn't talk at all. Logan came to visit in the daytime, and Ororo didn't object. By the third night, he was sleeping on the couch, taking turns with watching Neil. He had to be watched twenty-four hours a day, lest he choke and die in his sleep. One night, Logan woke up in the dark. He was slightly upset - he must've overslept, because it was midnight, time for Ororo to go to bed and Logan to watch his son. He crept around the corner into Neil's bedroom. Neil was awake, standing in his crib. I wonder if he heard me come in, Logan thought. Neil narrowed his eyes, but he was too weak to give his trademark "fuck off" growl. Logan placed his hand in the crib and felt Neil's forehead. It was much cooler than it had been this afternoon, when his temperature was one hundred and three degrees. Neil's tiny stomach growled, and Logan smiled. "You hungry, lil' bub?" he asked. Neil stared at him, then nodded hesitantly. "Well, let's see what we can get cha to eat at this time of evenin'." Moving slowly so as not to startle him, Logan reached down into Neil's crib and picked him up. He was very small, and very light considering his lack of appetite. Neil gave a weal snarl, then gave up and placed his head on Logan's shoulder, his ivory locks tickling Logan's nose. Logan walked his son to the kitchen. "Lessee…well, here's some puddin'. That should be okay, and it'll feel good goin' down your throat. It's cold, see?" Logan pressed the pudding bowl to Neil's leg. It startled him, and he smiled weakly. "Yeah, this'll be okay." Logan spooned some pudding into a small bowl, and set Cornelius in his high chair. He put some pudding in the spoon. "We'll just have you eat this all up, and -HEY!" "He is big enough to feed himself," a soft voice said from the doorway. "I can see that." Neil had swiped the spoon from Logan's hand and flicked the brown sauce on Logan's face. Neil snorted, and began to feed himself like a big boy. Logan laughed and reached for a cloth. "Spirited lil' imp, isn't he?" "He is your flesh and blood, Logan," Ororo admitted, as softly as a parishioner confessing his sins. "You know, Ro…when I said six months that you babied him too much…you were right. I didn't have the right to say that. I see now that I was wrong," Logan apologized. Ororo nodded and sat in the chair opposite Logan. "I admit that he is lacking in the discipline department. But I know when he has done something wrong, and when he has done something unintentionally. There's a difference." She stroked a lock of hair from her son's caramel-colored face. "I don't want to break his spirit, Logan. I carried him for nearly nine months, and I feel like I know him inside out." "Nearly nine months?" Logan questioned. Ororo nodded. "I delivered early," she said, and a haunted look swept across her face. "Goddess, he has eaten all that pudding already!" Granted, a good amount of it was on his face, but it was gone. "I'll get him some more," Logan said, rising from his chair. "No, not now. He has had enough for the night. I do not want him to eat sweet things late at night, although I should be happy he's eating at all." She picked her son up from his high chair. "Honestly, Logan. You couldn't have fed him applesauce, rather than chocolate pudding?" "Well…" Logan said, following Ororo back to Neil's room. "It was the first thing I saw." "Oh, my!" Ororo laughed as she set her child into his crib. "How irresponsible. It is obvious you are not a father." The room grew silent at Ororo's mistake. "I didn't mean it like that, Logan," she said softly. "Honestly, I didn't." "I understand." Logan muttered, hurting inside. "Here," he added as Ororo reached for a baby wipe to clean Neil's sticky face and hands. "I'll do that. Just sit down." Ororo went to do her biding. "Look. I understand that I wasn't around when he was born-" "Not by your choice, Logan." "-but I'd like to know more about him, what I've missed an' all." Logan threw away the soiled wipe and sank to the carpeted floor. He stretched his body across the plush green carpet and yawned. "You've never even told me about the day he was born, Ororo." Ororo's blue eyes clouded. "That's because I do not wish to talk about it, Logan." "I see." Logan chuckled. "I heard that giving birth feels like hell." "Feels like." A sardonic smirk came across Ororo's face. "I wish that had been true for me. I was in hell, my own private hell." "Beg your pardon?" Logan asked. Ororo sighed. "I may as well tell you about it." And she lay on the carpet next to Logan and began to tell her story. TBC