Chapter Thirteen: Don't Let Me Down

Place: New Orleans, Louisiana

Time: 1:00 AM (same evening as ch. 12)

The problem with the deep South, such as Louisiana, is that the air is filled with moisture. The mugginess of humidity can never be escaped and reaches its worse during the hottest time of the day. Yet, possibly the worst condition involving humidity occurs when bedsheets stick to a sweating, over-heated body trying to sleep. Discomfort levels reach sky rocketing limits and finally, falling asleep is completely out of the question.

Kai was having this sort of night. Her thick, wild and unruly hair stuck to the back of her neck, her forehead, anywhere where sweat could be found. Her tank top and shorts clung tightly to her teenage frame, horribly keeping her produced body heat trapped. She groaned and rolled to her side, kicking blankets off of her torso.

"This is ridiculous..." she mumbled. She sat up and sighed, wiping perspiration from her face. The house was silent, except for Remy's slight snoring on the couch. He hadn't slept in his own bed since Kai moved in, refusing to let her have anything less than the better of the two sleeping arrangements. He murdered for money, but he was chivalric.

He amazed her. He was the closest she had to a father. Though he acted more like a respected, older partner, as if they were a team. Or he a guide for her young, mutant life.

She stretched her arms over her head and yawned, cracked her neck from side to side, and rose from the bed. Water was in need. Retrieving a glass from a cupboard, she turned to the kitchen sink. She closed her eyes, took a long slp from her cup, and set it down before glancing at the window above the sink.

Fear rose through her as she started to shriek, only to feel a large hand covering her mouth with a cloth. She inhaled, trying to take in air, but instead filled her lungs and head with toxicities mixed to knock her out cold and drag her helpless body away from the safety of her home.

All as the famous Ragin' Cajun slept soundly, never noticing a single sound.

Time: 5:00 AM - Two days later

Place: Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters

He'd waited up all night for Ororo to finally come home from Washington D.C. She should be arriving any minute. Any minute and she'll walk through the front door, careless, tired, relieved to be home. She'll act as if nothing had happened, as if she merely took a weekend trip for herself. To recooperate, she'd say to her students. She needn't them to worry as well.

She'll probably take a shower...probably head to her office to start her work day early. She doesn't have a care in the world. But on her desk, which remained untouched until this very morning, she'll find a file. A file with power enough to attract the desperate and needy from every corner of the world.

Hank knew this. And because of this, he and Moira agreed it would be far more simple to leave the intriguing file with the school's new headmaster - however stressed she may be. He waited, sipping his black coffee across from Moira in the kitchen. They stared at each other silently, waiting calmly until Ororo would run down the stairs and find them, full of questions and suspicions.

"Hank." Moira broke the stressed silence.

He darted his eyes at her, shaking his head. "Sh! She's coming."

They froze as the front door opening was heard, the staircase being tip-toed upon, and a bedroom door being quietly shut. Hank locked eyes with Moira and they tilted their ears closer towards the ceiling, listening for Ororo above them. Moments of silence passed until a door swung open and tip-toes became running strides.

"Here we go," Hank muttered. "Remember what we talked about, Ororo has the final say. No matter what she chooses."

Moira nodded. "Of course. She is in charge, afterall."

Quickly, Ororo entered the kitchen, her eyes latched on Hank and Moira in the corner breakfast nook. "What is this?" She held the simple file in the air, a look of worry and wonder spread clearly across her face. "What the fuck is this?" She tossed the file onto the table top and crossed her arms in front of herself. Her body visibly shook. "Explain this to me, please! Now!"

Moira shot Hank a startled look before jumping up, in front of Ororo. "Ororo...we've found that...that file in the laboratory, while working on Cerebro."

"No," Ororo shook her head. "Cerebro hasn't worked since Charles and Jean's deaths. We haven't met a mutant with telepathic abilities to work with Cerebro. There's so much information in that damn computer, it would overload anyone who wasn't Charles."

Hank stood, "Cerebro is accessible through basic usage. I was able to hack Charles' password and open existing files from the last use of Cerebro. That is how we found this particular file." He smiled sheepishly, "And, as you can tell, we've taken quite an interest in this 'Profile: Fox."

Glaring, Ororo spoke with intensity. "Logan does not have a child."

Hank ignored the rude behavior, he smirked. "A daughter, to be exact. She'll be sixteen soon."

She continued to glare, snarling practically. Deep within her, she refused the idea of Logan having children. Absolutely forbid the idea. "You're wrong. How could he keep this from us?"

"He didn't know, dear," Moira spoke gently. "Ororo, no one knew but Charles. We aren't even sure of how Charles knew. All we know is what is placed in that file. The rest is lost within Cerebro." She place a hand on Ororo's shoulder, consoling her and looking softly into her eyes. "Dear, Logan will not leave you."

Ororo sucked in a breath. "What do you mean?"

Moira smiled, a sense of knowing displayed upon her kind, aging face. "I promise. He will not leave you or this school or these children."

"He won't leave because he will not find out about this child."

Hank glared, "You do realize that is extremely selfish, I hope."

She stood straight and placed her hands on her hips. "Logan is my only solid form of security for the time being. As you two are busy daddling with a computer system you cannot fix, there have been no upgrades to the security system. Logan has been sleeping during the day in order to roam the property at night, in search for any threats that may be coming towards this mansion. In case you haven't forgotten, unless I close down this school, children will be attacked. And you both know as well as I that these kids have no where else to go. I cannot close down this school. If I lose Logan, I lose..." she sighed. "everything. I lose everything."

Hank stood solidly before Ororo with all seriousness clearly written on his face. "A man has a right to know who his child is, Ororo." He turned and left instantly.

Ororo watched until Moira silently slipped passed her. "My dear...you...you've made a mistake."

"I want what is best for this school."

Moira nodded, "Perhaps however, you should think of what is best for those you love."

Ororo gasped and choked on her words as Moira quickly slipped from sight.

Love? She didn't love Logan. She barely even liked Logan. He was irrational, and emotional, and ridiculously hot tempered. And...and completely unreliable! And careless, and harsh to the students, and moody. He drank too much, and smoked cigars in the mansion - claiming he lived there too, so he would do as he "damn well" pleased. He spent his free time obsessing over a dead woman and an unknown past, and grumbles about both continuously.

He...was so...lonely, she realized. He was lonely. Logan was possibly the most alone person she had ever encountered. Any form of companionship had been taken away from him. Or - in this new case - had been erased from his memory.

She sat, sighing as she plumped into the wooden chair, and placed her arms on the table. She did not love Logan. She...pitied him, really. She couldn't imagine what her life could have been if Charles hadn't found her and offered her a home at the mansion. Logan, she supposed, had never stayed anywhere as nice or comfortable before joining the X-men. She pouted, feeling a tang of sadness for him.

He wasn't all bad, she supposed. He did hold her while she soaked his flannel shirt with tears. And she distinctly remembered his voice softening and whispering that everything would get better. He smelled like leather and sweat, and cigars. And she felt so...small while his arms were wrapped around her. His big...big...arms.

Her spine tingled.

At that second, Logan entered the kitchen. He headed straight to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug. He turned and leaned against the counter, took a sip, and yawned before catching Ororo just opposite of him. "What's wrong?" He crossed the room quickly.

Ororo didn't speak, didn't look up, and hardly breathed. She stared at the file lying on the table top before her. She searched every corner of her mind. He drove her completely crazy, she rationalized. But, if ever a moment where she would be falling...it would be Logan to catch her before her skull cracked on the ground.

"'Ro?" He sounded worried.

"Logan...sit down, please." She gulped. "Logan...there's something you really aught to know..."

He waited, concerned. "What is it? Somethin' happen last night? All the kids okay?"

She nodded and pursed her lips together. "Logan. Logan, you...you..." She sighed. "Logan...you need to read this file." She pushed it to him.

He frowned at it, glancing at the cover. "What's this?"

"Logan..." she finally reached his gaze with her own. Her heartbeat skipped. "Logan, you have a daughter."

A/N: Took forever, huh? More to come!