Chapter 241: The Birth of Nathan
The sea that night was calm — unnaturally calm, like it too wanted to listen. The Lee family ship rocked gently on the Atlantic waves, its hull catching moonlight and laughter spilling from the deck. A warm breeze brought scents of salt, champagne, and fried shrimp that Kitty had convinced the cook to make "extra crispy, because Colossus likes them crunchy."
Logan leaned against the railing, cigar in hand, the ember glowing like a lighthouse in miniature. He wasn't one for parties — never had been — but this one had a pulse. Something honest. A rare moment where nobody was fighting, bleeding, or dying. Just the X-Men — a motley crew of misfits — celebrating the newest Lee-Forrester.
Colossus stood near the buffet, towering and gentle, carefully holding a paper plate that looked like it might fold under his sheer size. "Katherine," he said in that thick, earnest voice, "you are certain this is food and not artwork? It is too beautiful to eat."
Kitty rolled her eyes. "Pete, it's fried shrimp. Eat it before Lockheed does."
Lockheed, perched on her shoulder, chirped indignantly, tail flicking like a cat denied cream.
Nightcrawler bamfed in and out of existence, teleporting around guests like a living party trick. He reappeared beside Storm, handing her a drink with a bow. "Für dich, meine Königin of the skies."
Storm smirked, taking the glass. Her mohawk glistened under the deck lights. "Careful, Kurt. A queen might mistake that for flattery."
"I only speak the truth," he said, tail curling with delight.
Storm laughed softly, for once not carrying the world on her shoulders.
Rogue leaned over the ship's railing, her white streak catching the moonlight, eyes warm as she looked at the couple in the center of it all — Cyclops and Lee Forrester, glowing like two lighthouses in the storm of mutant life. Lee held the baby, Cyclops' arm around her, and for the first time in what felt like a century, the man looked relaxed.
"Congratulations, sugar," Rogue said, voice full of Southern sunshine. "He's somethin' beautiful."
Cyclops nodded, visor glinting. "Thank you, Rogue. We… we're still deciding on a name."
That's when Nightcrawler, never one to resist a tease, leaned forward. "You could always name him Kurt. It has a noble sound, ja?"
Kitty snorted. "Or 'Lockheed,' if you want him to grow up breathing fire."
Everyone laughed — even Cyclops, briefly. But Lee's smile softened as she looked down at the small bundle swaddled in white. "Nathan," she said finally. "His name is Nathan."
There was a hush then. The kind that follows a prayer.
Cyclops looked at his son, then up at his friends — his family. "Nathan Christopher Summers. Our son."
Logan exhaled a slow breath of smoke, watching. Something in him tugged. Kid's got no clue the world he's been born into. But maybe… maybe this time it'll be different.
Rachel stood off to the side, half-hidden by the mast, her eyes fixed on the baby. Logan could smell it before he saw it — the salt of tears she was holding back, the twist of grief and longing. Her "soul scent," as he called it in the privacy of his own head, was like scorched starlight — burnt hope and memory all tangled.
He sidled over, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. "You gonna stand there all night starin' holes through the kid, or you gonna say somethin'?"
Rachel jumped a little, brushing at her eyes. "I wasn't— I mean, it's just…" She faltered. "He's so small."
"Most babies start that way," Logan said dryly, then nudged her with his elbow. "Go on, kid. Hold your brother."
Her eyes widened. "I can't."
"No buts, Ray." He flicked ash into the sea. "That's the brother you never got to have. The one your timeline stole from you. You think he cares what year you came from? Go hold him."
Rachel hesitated, trembling slightly. Then she stepped forward. The crowd parted without needing to be told — some instinct, maybe, sensing something sacred about the moment.
Cyclops and Lee turned. Lee smiled kindly. "Would you like to hold him?"
Rachel nodded silently. Cyclops handed the baby over, careful, fatherly. For a heartbeat, his gloved fingers brushed Rachel's bare hand — she didn't flinch, didn't read his thoughts. Just looked down at the tiny boy now nestled against her chest.
Nathan cooed. Small, innocent, utterly unaware of the cosmic web that had already tied him to destinies unspoken.
Tears welled in Rachel's eyes. "He's… warm," she whispered.
Lee smiled. "That's what they do best."
Rachel looked up, voice breaking. "In my world… my parents were together. They loved me. Loved him. We were a family until… until the war. The genocide. I saw them die for being what they were." Her voice cracked. "When I came here, I thought maybe I could see them again. Start over. But she's gone. And he's—" She looked at Cyclops, the words choking. "He's married. How do you tell someone you're their daughter when you're the ghost of a future that shouldn't exist?"
The group was silent. Even Lockheed stopped his chittering.
Cyclops' jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "Rachel," he said quietly, "you don't have to tell me anything. You're family — that's all that matters."
Rachel blinked through tears. "But if I'm family… then who am I to this baby?"
"Someone who's gonna make damn sure he grows up with more hope than you got," Logan muttered.
She looked at him, eyes red, voice soft. "How can I just forget everything that happened? Everything I lost?"
Logan took a drag of his cigar, gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Ain't about forgettin', kid. It's about not lettin' the past choke the future. What happened — it happened. But this?" He nodded toward Nathan. "This means it won't ever happen again."
Rachel stared at him, something dawning behind her eyes. A quiet strength replacing grief. She smiled, barely.
Then Nathan reached up, small fingers brushing her chin. She laughed, a real laugh, trembling with something close to healing.
Cyclops watched her, then said softly, "Looks like he's taken a liking to his sister."
Rachel looked up, startled. "You mean—?"
He nodded. "You don't need to prove it. I believe you."
Lee, holding back tears of her own, touched Rachel's shoulder. "He's got room for all the love you've got to give."
Rachel broke then — not from pain, but release. She cradled Nathan closer, silent tears falling onto his blanket, each one washing away a piece of the weight she'd carried across timelines.
The rest of the deck began to breathe again — laughter slowly returning, the sound of ocean waves stitching the world back together. Rogue teased Nightcrawler for drinking too fast. Kitty tried to convince Colossus to dance. Storm smiled at the stars and whispered something in Swahili, a blessing for the newborn.
And Logan… Logan just watched.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
He saw the way Scott held Lee's hand like it was an anchor to sanity. The way Rachel stood a little taller, no longer haunted but grounded. The way Storm's laughter sounded like wind through trees again.
He took another puff of his cigar, eyes flicking to Nathan.
Will I ever have a son like that?
The thought came uninvited, heavy and human. And if I did… would he even want a man like me for a father? A killer, a loner, a damn beast wearin' a man's clothes?
He shook his head, the sea breeze stealing the smoke from his lips. Some questions didn't need answers. Some were better left hangin' in the air with the sound of the waves.
Rachel looked up suddenly, meeting his gaze from across the deck. Her eyes were still wet, but she smiled — that same small, knowing smile Jean used to have when she caught him brooding.
Logan chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, kid," he muttered. "I hear ya."
The ship's horn sounded in the distance, and the stars blinked brighter. The X-Men laughed, the baby slept, and for one rare night in their cursed, beautiful lives — they were just a family.