Marie was sleeping soundly when she was shaken out of a rather pleasant dream by Logan's hands on her shoulders.

"Marie, wake up," he ordered as he lightly shook her.

"Whuh?" she asked, still sleep-fogged and confused. Looking around the darkened room, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"You had a contraction."

"What... what time is it?"

"Uh..." Logan pulled back to look at the bedside alarm clock, "3:13."

"Go back to sleep."

"Darlin', you had a contraction. Don't you think we should be waking Jeanie and Hank? I can carry Anna over to Kitty and Bobby's and..."

"Logan," Marie said, waking up more and more every second, "if I had a contraction, wouldn't I be the one telling you?"

"Well... yeah, but I smelled it on you. It woke me up."

"I'm going back to sleep," Marie said, trying to roll over on her side. She was a few days to her due date, and every movement was complicated and clumsy. It took her minutes to get comfortable again. Logan didn't say anything, but she knew he was wide awake. Still, undisturbed sleep had been so rare for her this past week, she ignored him and tried to find the comforting oblivion again.

About 10 minutes later, she felt her stomach muscles tense in the beginning of a contraction. When she'd been pregnant with Anna, she'd looked up everything she could find about childbirth, but she couldn't get a straight answer on how it would feel. None of her peers were even married yet and Jean and Scott couldn't have kids, so no one was any help. Jean and Hank had given her the standard doctor response that when you had a contraction, you felt mild discomfort. She'd soon found out from personal experience that "mild discomfort" in doctor-speak meant indescribable, cramp-like pain. She was feeling that pain now.

After the contraction had passed and she could breathe normally again, Logan asked, "Are you ready to go now?"

She reached behind her and lightly hit him.

"Hey!" he protested.

"You deserved it."

One of the reasons she loved Logan so much was that he was always so in-tune with her feelings. Right now, he could tell she was in pain, pissed, tired, and in no mood to argue.

"You're right," he answered. "I deserved it. Now can we go?"

"Ok. I'll call Jean. You go get Anna."

Marie watched him leave in the dim light. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that he'd almost died over five months ago. His speech was back to normal and only a slight limp remained of his debilitating paralysis. Jean had told them that in a few more weeks the limp would probably be completely gone. Thinking of Jean, Marie leaned over and picked up the phone on the nightstand.

Logan crept into his daughter's room. She looked angelic lying there, peacefully asleep. He pulled the covers off and reach down to lift her.

"Mmm, Daddy?"

"Go back to sleep, darlin'," he whispered as he pulled her small frame into his arms.

"What's going on?" Anna asked, blinking up at him.

"Your baby brother's coming."

Anna rubbed at her eyes and snuggled into his chest. "Tell him to come tomorrow."

Logan laughed. "Doesn't work like that."

"Where are we going?" Anna asked, when he pulled open the door to the hallway.

"You're going to stay with Aunt Kitty and Uncle Bobby while the baby comes, remember?"

"I don't like B.J. He drools on all my toys."

"You won't have to stay long. I'll probably come see you in the morning, ok?"

"Ok."

Logan had to knock a few times before a bleary-eyed Bobby answered the door. "Hey, popsicle. Baby's coming, and you said Anna could stay..."

"Bring her in," Bobby interrupted.

Walking over to the couch, the two men arranged the drowsy girl on it and Logan tucked her in with a kiss and an admonishment to "be good" before returning to Marie's side. By then, Marie was just leaving their suite with Jean.

"Should you be walking?" he asked, running up to her. "I mean, I can carry you if you want."

"I can waddle just fine, Logan." she replied, taking his hand more for his comfort than to steady herself.

Hank was already in the lab when they arrived. He looked up from his preparations and walked over to them handing Marie a hospital gown and Logan surgical scrubs and swimmer's nose plugs. Logan looked down skeptically at the nose plugs and then back up at him.

"You promised, Logan. I cannot help but recall how upset you became during Anna's delivery when you detected the odor of Rogue's blood. My fractured humerus was not pleasant in the slightest."

Logan slipped the rubber plugs onto his nose and replied in a slightly nasal voice, "Happy, Hank?"

"Extremely."

Logan looked around for his wife, and saw that she had gone behind a curtain to change into the hospital gown. He knew that it was only to protect her modesty during the initial preparations since she couldn't wear it for the caesarian section. Given her deadly skin, that was the only way their baby could be delivered. Then they'd have to wait the six or so months until the baby was old enough to try a skin test. It had been wonderful when Anna had proved immune to her skin, but they couldn't take the risk that this baby would be, too.

Logan had the scrubs on when Marie emerged from the curtain, one arm behind her back clasping the ends of her gown together. He was struck by just how beautiful she was. Even nine months pregnant, uncomfortable, and wearing a cheap, cotton covering, she was breathtaking.

"I love you, Marie."

She stopped, and her expression softened. "I love you too, Logan... Now, Hank, Jean, let's have ourselves a baby."

There was a lot of things in life that Logan could endure, but Marie's pain wasn't one of them. As she sat on the surgical bed, her hands clutching his gloved ones as Hank put in the epidural, it was all he could do not to release his claws and gut the doctor. Not being able to smell her helped, but by the strength of her grasp, the tension in her posture, and her heavy breaths, he could tell it hurt. Hank was good, though, and it was over quickly.

When Marie was finally positioned and prepared on the operating table, arms spread wide and stomach bare among the blue drapes and towels, Hank rolled a chair over by Marie's head for Logan. The surgical drape had been pulled up so neither of them could see the operation as it took place. Logan had been told to remain behind the drape no matter what, and he'd agreed wholeheartedly. He knew he couldn't take seeing Marie hurt.

"Ok," Jean said, "making the first incision."

Logan leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheek through the surgical mask covering his face. "This is it, darlin'," he said, excitement creeping into his voice.

"Wait," Marie suddenly said, her voice filled with alarm. "We haven't picked a name yet."

"I thought you were going with 'Mike,'" Jean said.

"Well, that's what Anna's been saying, but we haven't actually picked one yet," Logan corrected her. "We'll choose one later, Marie."

"What's the difficulty with 'Mike?'" Hank asked. "It's a fine name."

"I just want to pick one on our own," Marie replied.

"Well, how did you decide on Anna's name?" Jean asked, trying to be helpful.

"She's named after my mother. Her name was Rachel Anna, so we named our daughter Anna Rachel."

"Why don't you do the same with your son?"

"Look," Logan interrupted, getting annoyed. "Shouldn't you two be focusin' on the whole surgery thing for now. We'll talk about this later."

"My dad never liked his first name," Marie answered Jean's question, ignoring Logan.

"Well, what was his middle name?"

Marie paused for a moment and Logan was relieved that she'd stopped talking and started being a patient when she replied, thoughtfully, "Michael. His name was George Michael Trent."

"In that event, I propose you christen him 'Michael Trent Logan,'" Hank suggested. "Then both you and Anna will be pleased."

"I like that," Marie said. "What do you think, Logan?"

"Fine, whatever, if it'll get those two doctors to stop jabbering and start concentrating on their work."

The minutes passed slowly after that, Jeanie and Hank speaking their technical, physician-ese, and Logan speaking in a low voice to Marie, whispering how much he loved her and how excited he was for the baby. He was the first one to notice when something went wrong.

Marie's eyes got a far away look and glazed over. He asked her a question and she didn't answer.

"Marie?" he asked, but she didn't turn to look at him. "Marie?!? Jean, Hank, something's wrong."

"We know, Logan. We're working on it." Jean answered, her voice tense.

Logan heard a dripping sound. Looking down at the floor below the bed, he saw blood pooling on the metal. Logan ripped off his latex gloves. "Can I touch her? Should I touch her?"

"Not yet, Logan. We have to get the baby out first," Jean reminded him.

"What if I touch her and then you start again?" Logan tried.

"No good. The baby's already showing signs of distress."

"What? Hurry! Do something!" Logan said, frantic with worry. "Marie? Hang on, baby. Stay with me... Hurry, Jean!... Marie? Look in my eyes. Look at me, Marie!"

Her skin was starting to pale and her breathing slowed as he heard Jean swear, "Dammit, Hank! Suction that area. I can't see. We have to stop this hemorrhaging!... I've got the head. C'mon... C'mon... Ok, shoulders are coming... Baby's out. Take him Hank..."

No crying. Logan's heart fell as he realized the baby wasn't crying.

"Ok... Got the after-birth... Ok, touch her, Logan!"

Logan immediately clutched her face with both hands, and placed his cheek on her forehead, thanking everything that was holy when he felt the pulling sensation of her mutation take effect. Then, he fell into darkness.