Title: A Change In The Tune

Author: Ramos (Ramos004@Earthlink.net)

Rating: PG for language

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and I make no profit from their use other than the enjoyment of writing about them, and the wonderful feedback I've received.



It's all the fault of some yutz in a sport utility. I just want to make that perfectly clear. Rogue's fault too, but that's because it was her Jeep.

Emphasis on 'was.'

We were sitting at an intersection on the third day of July, returning from a shopping spree to celebrate my last birthday in the twenties. That's right, little Jubilee was gonna turn twenty-nine, and there was nothing I could do about it besides enjoy the Independence Day sales that so happily coincided with my birthday. So we're arguing over who got the best deals and listening to the radio, waiting for the light to turn green, and all the sudden I had one of my feelings. I'm not psychic, I'm not precog, and I'm barely clairvoyant, but I've learned to pay attention to that feeling.

"Rogue – move the car. Move the car, NOW!"

She didn't argue, but she didn't quite move fast enough. The moron who failed to negotiate his turn on the ramp behind us sailed right out past the missing guard rail, down the little hill and straight into the rear quarter panel of the Jeep. Had we not moved, well, it would have hurt a lot less, cause I would have been dead. As it was the jeep spun sideways with the impact and slammed into the SUV, passenger side to passenger side, and it hurt a lot.

When I woke up, I knew Logan was there before I opened my eyes. I've memorized the feel of his skin during the five years we've been married, and the sensation of his fingers stroking the palm of my left hand was the only thing that kept me from panicking. Nothing recognizable came out when I tried to talk, but I must have made a noise and his face came into view. It was a moment before I realized he'd moved, not my head.

"Hey," he said, his voice a lot lower and gravely than usual, and my eyes felt gritty as I blinked and tried to get my throat to work. He reached over and got me a cup with a bend-y straw in it, which was about the time I realized I was in a hospital, not the Med Lab at the mansion. The water tasted wonderful, even though it was warm and been in a plastic container too long.

"Hey, there." I thought hard for a minute, which was a really long time to come up with nothing better than "what happened?"

"You and Rogue were out shoppin' and some bastard ran into ya," he growled, and I could see from the deep lines on his face and the fatigue in his voice that he'd been really worried.

"Sorry," I managed. I attempted to move my head, which worked fine but hurt like hell, and the rest of me was a distant but overwhelming ache. Logan told me not to be sorry and pressed a kiss into my palm. I suddenly remembered something.

"Crap. Missed my birthday." Tired-looking as he was, he still smiled.

"Yeah, darlin'. You sure did."

I only meant to close my eyes but I must have fallen asleep again. The next thing I knew some doctor in a white coat was arguing that I wasn't well enough to be discharged. Logan was insisting we had medical facilities at the Institute that could do everything he could and more, not to mention two full time doctors with nothing better to do than to take care of me.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," I hissed through dry lips. Logan and the doctor came over, and when I saw Celia behind them, I felt a huge relief. Logan gently stroked my aching head while Celia talked the doctor up and down about several things I don't think I could have followed even if I had been perfectly lucid. It sounded like they'd been over this a few times already.

"Dr. Reyes," Mr. Official Policy finally sneered, "I'm quite aware of your qualifications. I'm also aware of why you no longer work in the public sector. I wonder if your employer is also fully aware of those circumstances?"

Like we didn't already know Celia had lost her job at her hospital because she was a mutant, but this guy obviously thought that he could use it against her. I managed to get the doc's attention.

"Yes, Mrs. Lee? Did you need something?" He was all concerned, which would have been nice if he hadn't been talking to me like I was three years old.

"Yeah," I rasped. "I want you to blow it out your ass. Logan, take me home."

It was another two hours before they sprung me. Celia gave me a shot of something really nice, so the trip wasn't bad, and Logan rode with me, holding my good hand and telling me about the Shi'ar do-hickey Hank was going to use on me. That was Logan's word, not mine, not that my brain was up to doing anything better.

Jean used her powers to lift me out of the rented van, and although I had a heck of a concussion, I was able to follow the explanation of my injuries. I was bruised just about everywhere, but the only real damage was to my right arm. They showed me the x-rays, and it was not pretty. We're talking a jig-saw puzzle, and the conventional treatment would involve pins, rods, at least two surgeries, and most likely it still would not work all that great.

Fortunately for me, Hank and the Professor have some imported and quite possibly illegal medical machinery that would let me skip the gruesome bits, and still give better results. So I told Blue to do whatever he wanted to do. I really do trust him completely, and I hope he realized how hard it was for me to turn my face away from that arm and let him have at it.

Logan held my good hand, and we squeezed so hard that our combined fist shook while Celia put something in my IV. He looked so tired and worried I was beginning to feel guilty and more than a little concerned about him. I still can't believe I'm married to him, some days. I kept looking at my husband while he faded, thinking how much I loved him, how great it was that he was willing to put up with all this. I was out cold before they made him leave.

Whatever Hank and Celia did, it was a success. The bones in my arm hurt like hellfire for more than a week, and I took every little pill in its little white paper cup whenever Hank gave them to me. I finally recovered from the concussion and everything started feeling better – except the arm, which was still hanging from some trapeze thing they'd rigged. Logan tried to spend as much time with me as possible, but eventually he had to go eat, sleep, and shower. Not to mention the team is already missing one member of the team, namely me, so they're short-handed. (Best joke I can come up with. Must be the drugs.) I did talk him into smuggling me a magic marker, which I used to make some fake hieroglyphics on the gauze bandages swathing me from fingertip to armpit.

"You must be feeling better," he commented when he saw what I'd done, and kissed me.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you only have a few tapes to watch," I replied, grabbing the remote turning off the VCR. I can only watch Brendon Frasier twice a day.

"Good. I was startin' to think maybe that concussion had done some permanent damage to you."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. "Am I forgetting things?" Had we already had this conversation? I tried to remember some of the signs of brain damage, but I drew a blank. Which didn't help at all.

"Nah. It's just that you've been behaving yourself. Hank hadn't said you were driving him bonkers yet." He grinned at me. "You must be losin' your touch."

I was still too weak to work up a good paf, so I settled for throwing my plastic slurpie cup at him. Logan's reflexes are still as fast as ever and he ducked, watched it clatter to the floor, then gave a significant look at the little white paper cup sitting by the remains of my lunch.

I tried for puppy dog eyes, but Logan crossed his arms and leaned back, enjoying himself. I was nominally mobile, but even getting to the bathroom required one other person's help. No way was I going to be able to bend down and pick up that cup by myself.

"Sweetheart, darling, love of my life, I seem to have dropped my cup. Will you pick it up for me? Pretty please?" I tried to bat my eyelashes, but I've always sucked at that. He raised one eyebrow.

"What's in it fer me?"

"Favor to be named later?"

"Deal." He scooped it up, refilled it, and presented it to me with a flourish.

"Thank you, honey," I drawled, piling enough sugar on to put him in a diabetic coma.

"You're welcome. Brat," he added under his breath. I giggled and raised my mouth to his for another kiss.

Neither one of us really expected the sparks we got off that kiss, and it quickly changed into something a whole lot more. I only had one hand, since the other was still trapped in the bandages and support system, but my husband is a talented and inventive man. We hadn't been alone together for almost two weeks, and believe me, that's a long time. It was sweet and slow and so damned good I felt a tear trail down one of my cheeks as we lay wrapped around each other. I really didn't want him to go, but Logan promised he'd break me out as soon as he could.

Three days later, Hank finally put a cast on my arm and let me out of the Med Lab, but made me use the Professor's spare wheelchair when Logan took me upstairs for dinner. I nearly cried when I was wheeled into the dining room, because the gang had balloons and streamers everywhere for a belated birthday party. There was even a big cake with candles for Maddie and Chris and Hank's son William to help me blow out, and although I fell asleep before the kids did, I couldn't have asked for a better birthday.

The accelerated healing still hurt quite a bit, and Hank kept feeding me drugs, but on the six-week anniversary of my accident, I could get the cast off. That's not long, considering the original prognosis, but wearing a cast for any amount of time in August is not pleasant.

Unfortunately, Logan had an errand to run for the Professor, so he was gone that whole last week. I promised him we'd arm wrestle as soon as he got back, but he knew I'd miss him, and not only because dressing yourself one- handed is a lot harder than it sounds. When the big day came, I was practically skipping down the hall to the lab. Hank just smiled at me indulgently and got out the little saw.

He'd finished about a third of the cut when the smell of the hot plaster and polymer coating got to me. I made him stop, and got to the sink in time to review everything I'd had for breakfast. In reverse. It took two more trips to the saw and then back to the sink before Hank gave up and pulled out a huge pair of tin snips out of his bag of tools and cut it off. Instead of checking out the arm, though, he made me sit down on the exam table.

Celia joined him and they started playing twenty questions, asking if I was having headaches, dizziness, nausea, yada yada yada. They were feeling my skull and shining little lights in my eyes and looked really concerned when I had to go visit the sink again, and I wasn't too happy myself. I could hear them whispering as I pulled one of the little disposable cups off the dispenser by the sink and got a drink of water. I was about to crumple it up and throw it away when I had a second thought, about those other little paper cups full of drugs Hank has been handing me since I woke up in the hospital.

"Hank, just what have you been giving me every day?" I asked, my voice low.

"Nothing that should have upset your system this way, Jubilee. Pain medications, to be sure, along with some anti-convulsant and anti- coagulants when you first came home, to guard against blood clots from your concussion…."

"Calcium supplements, some multi-vitamins to counteract the shock to your system from the Shi'ar technology…." Celia chimed in.

"Uh huh," I grunted. My stomach twisted again, and I told it firmly to knock it off. "And did either of you two geniuses remember to put my birth control pills in with all those others?"

They looked at each other, startled, but I had to puke again. They started up again after I came up for air, but I held up my good hand and cut them off.

"Look, check out this," and I indicated the pale, weak thing that used to be a nice strong arm, "and then we can check out…." I couldn't say it.

Hank was appalled at his thoughtlessness and babbled all the time he took a blood sample and bustled off to analyze it. Celia checked out my arm, which seemed fine, though she refused to give me an x-ray for sound reasons. She was happy the bones had healed, but she was awfully nervous looking when she gave me a hand up and let me take my feet out of the stirrups.

Hank came back in the room when I was decent again, and they had a little conference over the clipboard as if we all didn't know the truth.

"It's definitely positive, Jubilee."

It felt strange to cross my arms again, but it's my favorite way to glare at people. They both shifted uneasily.

"You two are both gonna baby-sit, we clear on that?"

That got a grin from Hank and a smile from Celia, and for some reason that little smile made me burst into tears.

Logan was due home late that night. I was too nervous to eat dinner, and I wasn't sure it would have stayed down anyway, so I skipped it and waited in our room trying to come up with a good way to break the news to him. This was not something we had discussed, in any fashion other than agreeing to talk about it later. A lot later.

I had never realized how much I liked kids until I got roped into babysitting the twins, and later Hank and Celia's boy, but the thought of having kids of my own was really freaking me out. I also had no idea how Logan was going to react, but just thinking about telling him was giving me a wiggins equal to the whole being pregnant part.

I still hadn't thought of anything when I heard his familiar footsteps in the hallway. The door flew open, and his old leather satchel flew across the room and smacked against the bathroom door as he pinned me to the wall and kissed me thoroughly.

"Miss me?" he asked, but didn't let me answer for several more moments.

"Oh, yeah," I said, kissing him back. No, wait, gotta talk. I got my hands between us and tried to push him back.

"Hey, a hand. I like hands," he chuckled, taking my newly released and freshly scrubbed limb in his hand and kissing my knuckles. Then the palm. Then the wrist. Then a little further up the wrist. Oh, been a while since he's done that.

"Logan, we need to…" Oops, forgot what I was saying.

"I'm workin' on it, darlin'," he chuckled, working his tongue on the inside of my elbow. His breath was warm on my damp skin, and my body was telling my mouth to shut up.

He pushed down the strap of my tank top and went to work on my shoulder and neck. I was going to need to wear a scarf tomorrow, but I didn't care, couldn't think, just let my head fall back against the wall as he kissed my throat. I felt his teeth lightly scrap over my collarbone, then he paused and went back over the same spot.

His hands stilled, then pulled me higher against him as inhaled through his nose, following the shirt's neckline down to the little vee over my cleavage. Oh, shit. He was smelling me, and one of his big hands grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it down so he could bury his face between my breasts. Normally a turn on, but all he wanted was to get a concentrated dose of Jubilee.

If it is possible to tackle someone in slow motion, he did. In seconds, I was sprawled flat on my back, pinned by Logan's weight as he examined my stomach with all the ferocious intensity he is capable of.

"You talk to Celia about this?"

"Yeah," I said, swallowing hard. "This morning. I got sick, and they did some tests."

"You okay?"

Yes. I'm fine."

"Good."

My pants were unzipped and my shirt was pushed up, but for once his attention was completely focused on a spot just south of my belly button.

"You can't see anything yet, Logan. It's only about the size of a lima bean right now."

"She."

I laughed. "Okay." I held up my thumb and wiggled the end. "She is only about yea big." I let my hand drop onto the bed and breathed for a minute. "I guess you're okay with this, huh?"

A huge rumbling growl came from the chest currently holding my hips to the mattress. "Hell, yes. I been thinking about this for a while. Just wasn't sure how you felt." He kissed my stomach, then crawled up the length of me to kiss me properly. Slowly, sweetly, about the same way we did the night we got into this predicament in the first place.

"So. What do you think?" he asked. His eyes were dark and concerned, but he definitely looked pleased.

"I haven't really thought, if you wanna know the truth. Not about a baby, anyway."

"Hmmm," he harrumphed, rolling off me and pulling me up to lean against his chest in our 'talking' pose. "What about, then?"

"Kids. Scott's kids, Celia and Hank's kid."

"And we're gonna add to the pack of ankle biters around here. So?"

I toyed with the ribbing in his tank, absently tracing the muscles under it. "Where are they gonna go to school, Logan? Maddie and Chris can already pass at the local school, but what about William? He's supposed to start school next year." William got his mom's build, but he's got Hank's teeth and eyes. The local elementary school is pretty tolerant, but junior high is hell enough without being a mutant.

"You're thinking about the Academy again, ain't ya?" he asked, idly, but I wasn't fooled. He knew it was a sore subject. Actually, sore didn't cover it. How about flaming, incandescent rage? It had been ten years since I and the rest of my class had bailed on the drunk and the psycho bimbo. Sean had gotten his act together, but Emma had melted down again before I ever came back to the team, or I probably would not have come back. Even so, the Snow Valley school had remained closed, and I hated that.

Yeah, I am." I lifted my head enough to look at him. "You know, I finally got the Professor to admit to me why he's never re-opened the school."

"An' what'd he say?"

"He isn't sure he can find anyone he can trust who's both strong enough to protect the kids and still got the patience to put up with them, not to mention teach them the right things they'd have to know about being a mutant."

"Well, there ain't a lot of Alpha Class-ers running around who can handle kids."

Living with Logan has let me pick up a number of bad habits, but the rude noise I made was all my own. "Yeah, right. I don't think he's looked hard enough." I knew I was being petulant, but this had been bothering me for some time, and it was now a whole lot more personal. But as my usually right (and don't tell him when he's wrong) husband just pointed out, not a lot of people measured up to Xavier's criteria.

Except me. And him.

I inhaled with surprise as the idea hit me, and when I looked at Logan, he looked back at me and smiled. He was way ahead of me. "Y'know, we been working too hard lately," he said casually. "We need to take a break, maybe some time off."

"Logan, you can't be serious. You love this job."

"I love you," he clarified. "A job is just a job, and there's no reason I can't run back here when ridin' herd on a bunch a kids gets old. You either. Kick some ass and come back and tell them all stories to make them bug-eyed. Oughta be fun."

"But what about…" he cut me off with a kiss.

"We'll figure it out." He laid a finger across my lips when I opened my mouth. "You think I don't see you lookin' at those mutant kids we find? All of 'em wandering around, foster homes and shelters, 'cause they got no place to go, 'cause nobody wants 'em? You think I don't see what that does to ya?"

"I love you," I said, tears threatening again. Damned hormones, I've cried more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in years.

"Yeah, I know," he said with a smug tone, and kissed me again. Lingeringly. And by the way, all that stuff about a pregnant woman's libido going out of control? No kidding. Seriously. It's a good thing Logan can heal fast, because I could really do some damage to a mere mortal.

**********

We spent a month doing some research, and tracking down a few teachers who'd lost their jobs because they were mutants. The Professor gave us the go-ahead, and we were off. My stroke of genius was when I approached a couple of government goobs and asked about how much the feds were willing to fork over for housing and teaching mutants. Hey, just because some black ops people had come up with the idea the first time didn't mean I couldn't use it ruthlessly to my advantage. Turns out there were social services at county, state, and federal levels that were willing to fund a group home- slash-school for mutants. We had to fill out reams of paperwork, and there were Strings attached to some of the money that I simply wasn't willing to put up with.

By the time I was waddling I also blackmailed, arm twisted, and put on the pathetic pregnant woman routine to get the rest of the team and anyone else I could think of out there to help clean and paint the Academy, along with a few local volunteer groups. I had considered and discarded the whole secrecy bit, but it hadn't worked worth spit when I went there, so I didn't figure there was much point in trying now. Besides, the whole mutant threat thing had fizzled, if only a tiny bit, from when I was growing up. A lot of people still had a huge problem with it, but a slightly larger percentage of them were willing to think about it for a moment before going off. I used the media for all it was worth, and the donations poured in. A few idiots showed up at the gates to protest, with their cards and banners, but it's kinda hard to feel threatened by a woman who's six months pregnant. Threatened by her hulking and seriously not amused husband, yes, but not by me.

I went to the local city council on a goodwill mission. I talked to newspapers. I even talked to a couple of Girl Scout troops. I worked so hard Logan would frequently pick me up and carry me to bed, still protesting, and lock the door so I couldn't go back downstairs to my office. But by the time the school year started, we would be ready. We had a half dozen students already committed to going to the school, and four more maybe's.

In March, I called a few of the old gang, and they all laughed themselves sick when I told them about me being the new headmistress of the Xavier Academy. Angelo was the only one who wasn't that surprised.

"Chica, that man of yours could drink Sean under the table, but you're never going to be able to match Emma for bitchiness."

"That's kinda the whole point, isn't it?"

"Too true. You sure you're gonna be able to handle the school and a new baby? They're a lot of work, I'm telling ya." He had two kids already by then.

"Yeah, I think so. We'll have four months to get used to it."

"Well, you let me know if you need a hand, 'kay?"

"Actually, one of the kids who's already said he'll be going is from your old neighborhood…"

"No, no, no, Jubes! I meant with the bambino. I'm not going near a teenager until mine are that age!"

"Weenie!"

Angelo laughed, and I was touched when he said I'd do a lot better job than the Ice Queen had ever been able to. He wished me luck, and said he'd keep an eye out for any likely kids.

It felt odd, knowing I was leaving Westchester once again, but this time Logan was going with me. He and our new baby would be a family together, and that made all the difference. The gang at Xavier's was a family, too, but I couldn't take the thought of all those kids out there who didn't have a family to belong to, just because they're mutants. Xavier made a good pater familias, and now it was time to expand the family again.

On a bright morning in April, I was propped against Logan's chest, trying to relax and enjoy the feel of his hand stroking my hair.

"I love you," he murmured, and I felt him kiss the top of my head.

I love you, too," I heaved with a sigh. "You know, this is really nice, but I'm going to be yelling at you soon."

"Yeah?" he chuckled, barely loud enough for me to hear. "Well, I've been trying to get you to scream my name for years."

I laughed. "Don't remind me." We hadn't made love for a week, and Celia says we have to wait about four weeks afterwards.

Another cramp hit my back and spread, and I gasped.

"Breathe, darlin'. Just breathe." His hand was rubbing my back, but it wasn't helping.

"God, Logan, I take it back. I don't ever want to have sex again. LOGAN!"

At the other end of the table, Celia looked up. "I think this is going to be the one, Jubilee."

"Celia," I gritted out, "If you say that one more time I'm going to get up off this table and kill you!"

"Shut up and push, Jubilee. This is it! Logan, help her sit up!"

Those arms that had been holding me so nicely a minute ago forced me up higher as the full contraction hit, bending me almost in half, held me safely while I bit back a scream and did what I was told. An excruciating twenty seconds later Celia was crowing with delight and I collapsed backward into Logan's arms and listened to our baby start squalling.

"He's got his daddy's temper," Celia called out.

Logan's puzzled face came into focus as I frowned at him.

"You said it was a girl," I panted, exhausted. We didn't even come up with a boy's name."

"So sue me," he muttered, but the silly smile on his face was kinda cute. It changed, however, when Celia laid our son in my arms. Logan reached down and let the tiny starfish hand grip the end of one finger, and his eyes were suddenly wide and open, the absolute awe in his face overwhelming. His other arm tightened hard around my shoulders, and he kissed my forehead.

"Damn, you do good work, Jubilee," he muttered, his voice strangled, and I knew he was as close to tears as I've ever seen him.

"We do good work," I corrected him softly, and he nodded.

"We do good work," he agreed, sniffing just a little bit. And then he grinned, the same Logan grin I've always loved so much, and we started to argue about names.

~Fin~