"Are you starting to put on a little weight?"

Scott circled her in a crouch as she mirrored his movements. The hand to hand sessions with Scott always proved interesting, being that he was so much taller than she was.

"Isn't that considered a rude question?" She asked, frowning.

He quickly darted in to take his shot and she effortlessly evaded, pleased at his grunt of irritation. He'd have to be clever if he actually wanted to catch her. Not much else in the house was quicker than she could be when she put her mind to it.
He rocked back to the balls of his feet and replied, "For most women, yes. I didn't think that you took offense at honest questions."

The lenses of his training goggles reflected her crimson image back at her as she nodded and said, "Yeah. I'm getting fat."

Scott laughed and circled her in a counterclockwise motion now. "It's all that ice cream. It's finally catching up with you."

Max eyed him and darted in quicker than the eye could follow, tapping his shoulder, then his cheek before coming back to a defensive position.

Scott paled for a moment, then shook his head. "I keep forgetting that you can move that fast. Why do we spar like this again?"

Max laughed and turned as the door to the Danger Room opened. Scott pressed his advantage, knocking her to the floor and pinning her.

She looked back up at him and explained, "So you can feel superior when somebody distracts me enough for you to get the drop on me."

Scott presented her with a sheepish grin and helped her up as Hank McCoy walked in, his eyes glittering with excitement. With a swat in Scott's direction, she looked over at Hank and grinned.

"You gonna spar with us, Doc?" she asked, wondering what had him so keyed up.

"On the contrary, my dear Maxine - I'm here to see if we are still on for our monthly run beneath the silver orb that's slowly creeping up into the dark velvet blue of the night sky." He faltered for a moment, adding, "I wasn't sure that with Logan back if you would still be up for it."

It was late enough that the moon would just now be peeking through the tops of the bare trees in the winter sky. Damn, she grumbled to herself. She knew that her runs with Hank had become one of his guilty pleasures, and felt bad that she couldn't accompany him this time - or for the next three more moons.

"I can't run with you, Hank - but I'd love to go out by the lakeside and watch the moon shine through the trees." she offered, noticing the subtle look of disappointment on her friend's face. She'd have to tell him soon.

He walked up to her and offered his hand to her, "Milady, the moon awaits."

As her hand touched his, he stood stock still for a moment, staring back at her with a dazed expression. He then quickly cleared his throat and said, "I'm most pleased to see you back up and around, Scott."

Scott nodded and said, "Good to be back. I'll catch up with you later."

--

As they walked along the rocky shoreline of the lake, Hank gently said, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Logan was right. There really was no way to effectively keep a secret in this place. Max looked over at him, nodding. "How'd you know?"

Hank tapped the side of his nose with a large blue-furred finger. "I'm afraid that my condition makes me overly blessed in the olfactory department."

"I should have known that I wouldn't be able to keep it between just the two of us." she murmured softly as her feet shifted back and forth. A light snow started to fall and she looked up into the sky, closing her eyes as small white flakes settled on her cheeks and chin. She'd always loved snow.

"Is this the reason that you're unable to run tonight?" Hank asked.

Max looked over at him and nodded, her voice sounding small as she explained, "I can't shift until I'm ready to kit." She quickly added, "..give birth."

Hank smiled and said, "If there's anything I can do to help - anything at all, just let me know."

Max gently knocked into her friend's shoulder and said, "Thanks Henry. I really appreciate it."

--

By the time the second month was up, everybody knew. The attention made Max a little nervous, but it was almost reassuring in a way. Unfortunately, Logan had started getting snappier with her now when it came to doing anything physically taxing. They'd had several fairly loud fights about it, and he'd begrudgingly ended up letting her do what she wanted to anyway. He still gave her shit about it from time to time though. She figured that he just enjoyed giving her grief in order to assure himself that he'd done what he could to keep her from doing something that he considered possibly harmful.

Christ, at this point, the man considered opening a plastic shatterproof jar of peanut butter a harmful activity. If he didn't shut the hell up, she was sure that she was going to clock him with a frying pan.

He seemed to be taking his frustration out on his self defense classes, which - she admitted - could use a little shaking up. Pinks coddled the hell out of their children, and in her opinion it crippled them when they went to make their way in the real world. Although he could be an utter asshole to those kids, at least a third of the class now looked at him with genuine respect. Terrified respect, but respect nonetheless.

Every once in a while she'd sneak down to watch him instruct, amazed that the kids still put up with him. He really put them through the wringer.

She remembered overhearing a recent conversation between students where they were quietly discussing whether becoming a father would actually mellow him out somewhat. The consensus was that he would likely get scarier. The thought made her laugh, even now as she watched him do warmup stretches on the floor next to the bed.

Logan looked back at her, his tone mild as he asked, "What now?"

She chuckled again and mussed his hair. "Just wondering about how parenthood is going to change us."

He turned to place a hand on her rounded stomach, his brow furrowed. "Two more months." he murmured.

She smiled and covered his hand with her own as he met her gaze. "You sure there's more than one?" he asked, his tone soft.

They hadn't really talked about it since she first realized that she was definitely giving birth to more than one cub. She could feel three distinct rhythms in her body, aside from her own. It only made sense to reason that she'd be having three cubs.

Logan had walked around in shock for about a day after the initial revelation.

Max nodded, frowning. It had come as a shock to her as well.

At least Xavier had taken it pretty well, considering the circumstances. Jean had been surprisingly understanding, explaining that she'd caught a stray thought early on and kept it quietly to herself - which Max appreciated greatly.

The only reaction that mystified her, unsurprisingly, was Ororo's. Max remembered how the woman had smiled her enigmatic smile and taken her lightly by the hand.

"I would like to present you and the lives that you carry inside you with a blessing, if I may - if this would be something that you would welcome." Ororo's voice was smooth and cultured - Max loved hearing her speak.

Max peered up at her, looking into that inscrutable face and nodded; honored. "I would like that very much, 'Ro. Thank you."

Ororo led her upstairs, to her room - taking her back behind a chinese wooden screen that very effectively hid a smaller room from casual eyes. Max saw a collection of colorful ceramic pots on several shelves - each of them having a differently colored, tasteful decoration around them. There was a quiet sanctity to this room that made Max want to be very silent - as if she should be listening closely for something important.

"What is this place?" she murmured, surprised how how loud her voice sounded in this small, serene space.

Ororo smiled back at her, her tone soft as she explained, "It is a place of quiet, profound mystery and joy. I do not share this with many people."

Max stood silently watching as Ororo gestured to an ornate collection of decorative maroon and brown items. They were displayed in a grand fashion, being the central thing in the room that drew her attention. The woman began speaking in a tongue that sounded both lilting and musical on her friend's lips and Max felt a peace settle on her shoulders as she relaxed.

The rest of the details of that afternoon had been a little hazy and had involved pieces of coconut and an unusual black and green beaded necklace that Ororo placed around her neck. Her friend said that it would protect and bless their new family, and Max had accepted it with tears in her eyes. She couldn't say exactly why she'd started crying - after all, it was just a necklace, but the entire thing had been moving in a way that she hadn't had words for.

Ororo had then hugged her and headed back downstairs with her.

When Max told Logan about it later he just grunted and said, "She's an odd bird."

--

Fear looks pretty much the same on everybody's face.

You'd think that monsters would look different - the ones that hide behind human eyes, but it's just the same as everybody else. Most folks don't want to die, and when confronted with it up close and personal they get all fuckin' jittery and screechy. It's an almost universal thing, and it's annoying as hell. Trust me on this.

You get used to it, after awhile - the nervous fear that radiates off people when it's all the reaction you're used to getting. It stinks like piss on the ashes of a long burning fire when it bleeds into terror. People smell ugly when the fear's got 'em by the neck, shakin' em down.

Most times, I just ignore it and walk on. When it's a constant dull roar, it kinda fades into background noise. Keeps people the fuck away from me, which can only be a good thing in my opinion.

The ones that catch my interest are those who barely flinch when I walk by. The ones that see me for what I am and nod to me - almost like they wanna piece, just to have a taste. To see how bad it can get. Sometimes I get a run for my money, sometimes not. It's usually disappointing, but from time to time I get a ringer.

Sometimes I even get my ass handed to me - but I always bounce back. Fuckin' healing factor.

I've come back from the edge so many times I've lost count. I've even gotten down to just the slick silver coating on my bones that some fuckwad squint in a lab pumped into me and still I manage to keep kickin'. It's almost a cruel joke, really - not that I've ever been that introspective.

From what I can remember, I been a little too busy keepin' my ass outta the fire to start lookin' back and sortin' shit out - not that it would help any. I can't remember a single solid goddamned thing from over a year and a half ago. That four month confinement period ain't too easy to see either, but some of the crap that comes back from it is vivid enough to flood my mouth with bile and make me wanna put a serious hurt on somethin'.

Sure, it's starting to come back now in snippets that look like one of those godawful stupid horror movies that Max likes to make me watch with her, but it's never clear. It's infuriating.

Lately, I been smellin' the fear on me. I think Max smells it too. The closer it gets to her poppin' them puppies out, the more my gut clenches.

She thinks she knows me - knows that I'm a good man, but she's wrong. Ain't a fuckin' thing good about me. I'm all bad, and a part of me realizes that's always been the case.

Still don't keep my breath from catchin' like a fuckin' schoolgirl when she says it, though. And it don't keep me from wantin' to hear it.

I feel neutered now - caged and kept; babysittin' these fuckin kids. Knocking them around when they get out of hand.

I stay with it - for her - but two months of this shit has me going bugnuts already. I'm givin' it until the pups come, and then seein' how everythin' shakes out. I don't see it endin' with us stayin' - but stranger fuckin' things have happened.

--

Driven. The one word that sums him up so very well. He is so many other things, but that's what shines the brightest in him. The next is his honor. It may be a little tarnished in his eyes - if not outright caked in gore, but I can still see the gleam of it just underneath that rough exterior he wears to keep people at arm's length. I try to remind him of it from time to time, because he seems to forget. He is a man of rough, visceral passions who's just trying to find his way back to the human that lives in his psyche.

For him, some days are better than others when it comes to that particular struggle.

I sometimes dream of the things that I would do to the men who've yanked his beast to the forefront - callously wrenching his humanity aside. As if he doesn't need it.

I watch him wrestle with it - his beast - his wolf. Sometimes he embraces it and runs with it, and others he recoils from it with a horror that you can only smell on him if you're standing beside him when it's happening.

Logan has one of the better poker faces when it comes to hiding emotion, but I can always tell.

He lets his guard down around me because he knows that I'll just end up finding out anyway - and that in and of itself is almost sacred in a way. It's a sharing that he doesn't engage in with any sort of frequency when it comes to anybody else.

He burns like a star that quickly flares and fades - and yet he's still here. I only hope that I bring him some measure of peace, because what he's given me in return has been more than I'd ever thought I'd achieve this far from my people. My Pack.
This is my Pack now - this savage, graceful man and the cubs that lay curling in my belly, waiting to take their first wobbling steps in the world.

There's a bittersweet feeling to it that puts an interesting edge on it, and although I can feel his cold fear at what the future will bring with the offspring he never thought he'd have, I can also sense a kind of anticipation. It's not going to be at all what he expects. Our cubs will not be mewling, pink meat with no means of defending themselves.

I find myself wondering if they'll pick up his mutation, and what it will end up doing to them. I would actively worry about this, but the rhythms within me feel strong and sure - with no harmful flaws.

Will they have his claws? I wonder. Brave New World doesn't even begin to cover this.

I wish my mother could see me - could know my mate, my cubs.

I think she would've approved.

--

Max growled at him as he touched her, clutching at her stomach.

"I can't believe Pinks go through nine goddamned months of this. And they all crow about the fucking 'joy of motherhood'."

They were finally in the last two weeks - and thank god because his fuckin' sanity was just about ready to snap. Logan found himself wanting to laugh, but knew that she'd crack the hell out of him if he did. She'd been getting more ornery as the time grew nearer, and he'd learned to move quickly to avoid her when she lashed out in irritation.

"Can't you just cut them out? Christ." she muttered angrily, trying to shift to a more comfortable position in the bed.

Logan looked over at her with the barest hint of a smile. "You sure you want that? It'll solve a lot of problems."

Max glared at him. It had become an almost morbid running joke between them at this point.

"Takes a big man to kill his own cubs." she grated, slapping out at him again.

"You whine too fuckin' much," he muttered.

"You try carrying these goddamned things for four months and see how shitty you get." Max snapped back.

Now he laughed, easily evading her hand. "They'll drop soon, and then we can be inconvenienced by the yowling little fuckers for the rest of our lives."

She stopped and looked over at him with a strange expression, then they both burst out into gales of whooping laughter.

"You're both insane." Jean murmured from the doorway.

They both moved to look over at her, then started laughing again.

"I'll never understand it." she muttered as she shook her head and walked back to her room.

--

The last day.

Logan could smell the fear coming off her in waves. She was shivering as she looked back at him, her hands jittering as she placed them on the floor.

"Baby, it's ok. I'm here." he murmured, placing a gentle hand on her back.

She met his gaze and the look in her eyes nearly cracked his heart open. She looked so utterly lost. A tear trailed down her cheek as she croaked, "I don't know if I can do this."

"I think it's kinda inevitable at this point, darlin'." he replied, crouching beside her.

"No..not that. I just.." she closed her eyes as her body went through a series of convulsions that looked extremely painful.

Ah fuck.. he winced, hating how helpless he felt. "What is it, baby? What's wrong?"

"It never hurt this much before." Max grated, gritting her teeth.

Time to try another tactic. He moved to sit beside her, his tone soft as he said, "Then ease down. Forcing it is only making it worse."

She shook her head quickly, her hair damp with sweat. "I have to shift, Logan. It's too close. I can't give birth on two legs."

He cupped her face gently and said, "Breathe. Just focus on that. Remember the meditations we've gone through."

Max closed her eyes and went through the slow paces of the beginning of the meditation. She jerked violently several times, but she forced herself to start walking back through the steps. Slowly, she started getting it under control. Her pulse started beating slower - the beats becoming more measured, and she felt a subtle change that felt familiar. The jagged edges slowly melded together, reminding her body of the path it needed to take and she let out a sigh of relief.

After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes and murmured, "I'm going to miss seeing you through these eyes."

Logan smiled and softly replied, "I ain't goin' anywhere, and yer gonna have those eyes back soon enough."

"You sure you're not going to mind the fur for a month?" she asked, worried that this would be a fairly large issue for him.

He chuckled and said, "Just expect to be naked and occupied for the first few days yer back on two legs. A man can only take so much."

"Deal." she replied, grinning back at him.

"I love you, Logan." she murmured as her body slid into the shift. The change was almost instantaneous.

Logan blinked, then gently scritched the fur at her ruff and whispered, "Yeah - me too, pup."

--

When it became clear that the third cub was the last to be born, Ororo softly murmured, "It is symbolic, this number. It is very fitting. Maferefun Ogun."

Logan peered up at her strangely and she presented him with a graceful nod, her mien regal as she added, "This is a blessing for you both."

Logan had yet to quite figure 'Ro out, but her words held a weight that he was surprised that he could actually feel. Not wanting to think about it too much, he turned back to Max as she tended to the newborns.

Max finished licking the third cub clean, cutting its umbilical cord with a quick snap of her teeth. The three of them nestled against her belly, their fur short and wooly and their little ear flaps close against their heads. Their movements were wobbly as they blindly tried to move, and he had to admit they were kinda cute.

Logan winced as Jean cooed behind him, going on and on about 'the cuteness'. He wanted to hit her. He looked down at the cubs - his cubs, feeling an odd sense of disorientation. Whatever he'd expected, this wasn't it. There was no freight train of fear slamming into him - no overwhelming urge to break and run. It was just - puppies. For some reason, that made an enormous difference. He'd had several rather vivid nightmares of three yowling meatsacks crying all the time, and now that the event had actually happened he was surprised that it was something that he was easily taking in stride.

Holy crap. I might actually be able to pull this off, he mused to himself as he lay down, placing his head next to Max's. She gave his chin a quick lick, then went back to attending her cubs.

"[They are indeed beautiful, my friend]." Piotr's voice was soft and resonant as Logan looked up at him. The boy had brought along a sketchpad and was smiling as his hands moved along the paper with smooth strokes.

"[Yeah,]" Logan surprised himself as he returned the boy's smile. "[They are.]"

Jean grumbled, "I hate it when you guys do that."

Logan looked up at her with a snarl and growled, "Then learn the fuckin' language like the rest of us."

She kicked him and he grunted, turning to look back at his mate. He and Jean had come to a truce of sorts over the last month and were being less obnoxious than usual to each other. Piotr chuckled to himself as he sketched the scene before him.

"Ain't you people got somewhere to be?" Logan grated, pressing his forehead to Max's head. She let out a happy chuff and moved to give the side of his mouth a quick lick.

Scott slid his arm around Jean's waist and said, "I think we should give them some time alone."

Jean frowned, but nodded and let Scott lead her away. "Bye 'dum! I'll be back around later, okay?" she called out softly as they left the small bedroom.

Max let out a friendly whimper, then moved to nudge one of her cubs gently with her nose.

"Christ, I thought she'd never leave." Logan muttered, chuckling when Max moved to nip at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured softly.

Piotr moved to stand up and Logan asked, "[Stay and finish the drawing? It'll be important to her.]"

The boy smiled and nodded, moving to sit back down. "[Of course,] comerade. [It'll be my birth present to you both.]"

Go back to Chapter 20 - Go to chapter 22

To reiterate: MARVEL owns the rights to most of the elements in this story. Max, and her subsequent backstory, is my own creation, but everything else is either sub-canon, or warped canon yanked from the X-Men storyline.