Okay, technically this could probably be a continuation of my little series, but the way it stands right now, it's a futurefic oneshot, unrelated to Home and Rebirth. We'll see where the sequel to that takes me and go from there.
THIS IS SEMI AU AFTER X2 AND PART OF X3. Thus, here's the deal:
Jean came back but didn't join Magneto, or kill Xavier, however, she did kill Scott.
Jean now has control of Phoenix
Logan looked at the picture on his desk – that's right, his desk – and couldn't help the smile that blossomed. It was a picture of his family during a birthday celebration only three months before, his daughter's birthday celebration.
"Professor Grey?" Logan looked up at the nervous student in the doorway. He'd taken on his wife's name when they'd gotten married, simply because he couldn't remember his own.
"Thomas," Logan acknowledged, waving the boy into the room. "What can I help you with?"
A lot had changed since Alkali Lake and the subsequent return of the infamous Jean Grey. With Scott dead, and Jean broken it had taken him, Xavier and Ororo close to a decade to get her back to the way she'd been and help her over her guilt from killing her fiancée. Sometimes, when she looked at his grave in the yard, he could smell the sadness on her, the guilt she still carried and hoped someday it would be erased.
"The paper you asked for?" Thomas inquired nervously. "Um… I won't be able to get it to you on time."
Logan raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Why not?" He'd softened since his marriage and the birth of his children, but still carried and edge to him that made some of his students nervous. Yes, the Wolverine was teaching students at Xavier's Institute voluntarily. In fact, he taught self-defence and history… and found that he loved it.
"There's a problem at home and I have to go back for a little while and I know technically I'm supposed to get the paper to you before I leave but Mom wants me back tomorrow and I can't get it to you by then because I'd meant to start researching tomorrow and thus haven't done anything on my project and I know that's not really a good excuse and that it's last minute and I'm really sorry…"
"Thomas, Thomas," Logan said with a chuckle. "Really that's fine. Try and get it to me the day you get back." The boy looked relieved.
"Thanks so much Professor."
Logan chuckled. "Sure thing." He turned back to his grading, thankful for the silence and lack of interruptions…
"Daddy!" Logan almost groaned as his six-year-old whirlwind came racing through the door, narrowly missing crashing into his desk in her rush.
"Woah there Ana. You're going to have to be a little bit more careful," Logan said, standing and coming around his desk where he could lift his daughter into his arms. Analiese Katherine Grey was her father's little princess and a Daddy's Girl to the core.
"But I didn't hit anything, Daddy, I promise." With red hair and green eyes Ana, as Logan called her, was the spitting image of her mother. It was definitely one of the reasons Logan found he couldn't say 'no' to her.
"I'm sure of that, but you could and then you'd get hurt," he told her sternly, perching her on his hip. "Now what's with all the screamin'?"
"Mike was chasing me again," Ana replied with a pout. "He promised Mommy he'd leave me alone today."
"He wasn't going to hurt you though, right?" The constant bickering between his children was routine. The fact that it had gotten out of hand again didn't surprise him in the least.
"Nope. He did break a promise to Mommy though and he's not supposed to do that." Logan nodded sagely, carrying his daughter out of the room and down to the floor below that held his wife's office. Sure enough, Michael was in there.
"Oh good, you're both here." That was his wife, the no-nonsense Dr Jean Grey. He took a moment to look at her, slightly dishevelled after a day of teaching, black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. He leered at her when both children focused their guilty gazes on her and could smell the change in her body.
On Jean's part, it never ceased to amaze her at how her husband could turn her knees to jelly with just a look, especially after eight years of marriage and two kids.
Their relationship had progressed naturally from a shallow comfort to deep friendship and eventually passionate love though her years of recovery. He'd watched her valiantly fight the Phoenix until she'd gained complete control and been her shoulder to cry on whenever the nightmaressurfaced. When they finally announced that they were officially a couple, the mansion had all but exploded with relief and 'it's about time'. The party that followed their engagement was even rowdier and their reception was better than that.
"Now, what is this I hear about flushing soldiers down the toilet?" Jean asked sternly, her eyes meeting her daughter's. It didn't surprise Jean that Ana had raced to her father, nor did it surprise her that Michael had come to her. They were just too predictable.
"He tried to flush my doll down the toilet last week and when it wouldn't go down he threw it in the fountain," Ana pointed out, close to wailing and gripping Logan's shirt in her fists.
"That's not a good reason to do the same thing back, is it?"
Ana looked down at her father's shoulder. "No."
"You need to apologize to your brother," Jean said firmly.
"But he was chasing me! And he didn't apologize after soaking Charlie!" Logan remembered that incident vividly since it had happened at an ungodly hour of the morning after he and Jean had had a… ahem… busy… night. He'd never seen his wife go that red as she had when her daughter burst in on her and Logan in bed naked. Ana had raced in, screaming about Michael throwing Charlie in the bathtub full of water. Apparently his children had a thing for water.
"Michael…" Now Jean's attention shifted to her son, only a year older than Ana. "You promised you'd stop chasing your sister around the mansion. You could get hurt, or hurt someone else."
"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said immediately, looking properly chastised.
"And you?" Logan asked softly, bouncing the redhead at his hip.
"'m sorry for flushing your stuff down the toilet," she said, her voice soft. Jean nodded, seemingly satisfied with the apologies.
"Good. Why don't you go find Grandpa Charles? I think I heard him mention something about ice cream…" Like a flash Michael was off and Ana wiggled out of Logan's grip. He watched her go before gently closing the door and turning back to Jean. She sighed, fingers at her temples.
"Rough day?" he asked softly, moving to stand behind her and take over.
She moaned as his fingers worked down her neck and to her shoulders. "You have no idea."
He chuckled. "Who was it this time?"
"Nick. You know, the one that used to set the mats on fire before Charles banned him from the gym?"
"He almost set my classroom on fire. Kids wouldn't stop asking about it for the rest of the day."
"What do you say we call it a day then? If Chuck is taking the monsters out, we have a few hours to ourselves…" he murmured, trailing off.
She groaned playfully. "Logan, I'm tired."
He chuckled, running one finger gently up her neck and feeling the shiver trill through her body. "I'm sure you are, Darlin'. Let's pack up and head home." Home was a small cottage at the edge of the property. Charles had had it built as a wedding gift to both of them, a kind of private haven where they could have their family, but still be close to the school in case anything was to happen.
"Okay," she finally murmured. It took them a few minutes to pack up her stuff. Logan noticed a picture on a table by the door before he turned out the light and smiled. It was the same one he had on his own desk.
"Coming?" Jean questioned from just down the hall, having noticed her husband had stopped.
"Yeah," he answered, quickly catching up to her and throwing an arm about her waist. "I love you."
She smiled brilliantly, still not tired of hearing him say that. "Love you, too."
As Logan reflected on everything he'd gained in just under two decades, he couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face. He had everything he'd never dreamed of having, Jean Grey, his family, and an awesome life. Everything was perfect.