More Trust Issues

I know that I wrote earlier that I have worried that I will develop trust issues. Most of the time, I think about talking to other people, maybe men, sometimes even women and worrying that I don't understand what they're saying or more importantly, why they say it. As an example, I was at a wedding reception tonight and when my 7 year old was being overly friendly with a young man, we were teasing her, calling her a little flirt. He laughed and said that she obviously learned it from her Mom. So I spent the rest of the wagon ride wondering if he was teasing me, or if there was a point in our conversation that he believed that I really was flirting with him. And not only that, but I think this kid and I are distantly related. So that just kind of turned my stomach, also taking in the fact that he had to be at least 15 years my junior.

The other trust issue I have is because of some so called friends back in the States that I thought were loyal to me. Obviously now, by the way my soon to be ex husband is phrasing things, someone down there is talking to him and blabbing everything. It makes me not want to talk to people that know him, because he lost that right to know things about me when he walked out on me and the kids.

There are a lot of things that are upsetting me right now. And I know people care, but it seems to me that what I'm going through is the bottom of everyone's list. I hate feeling like this, that I'm concentrating on my life to the exclusion of everything else. When all this was going down, I didn't have my family and my friends with me. I had to rely on myself to see me and the kids through everything. And then, when I finally get myself and the kids home, everyone is acting like all the bad things are not quite my fault, but I'm the only one around to blame to a small extent. It's like my parents are swooping in and telling me, it's all that bum's fault, don'y worry, we'll take care of everything and you just relax.

Unfortunately, they don't realize that I have had to be strong and there for my kids and deal with everything and be the one to get things done for all these years. So they come in and by trying to spoil the kids and end up ignoring me... it's difficult. I basically end up feeling like the bad guy, or incompetent. I'm not good enough as a Mom because my kids need all these things that I still can't give them, but my parent's can. They need time that I can't give them anymore because I have to work now. They need more space that I can't provide because I have to live in my parent's house until I can establish enough money to do anything. I feel like a failure, even though I know I should be proud of myself for getting us through this far and hanging on and keeping going to strive for a better life than what we had. And maybe I would feel proud of myself, if I didn't still have so many people around me dragging me down. Telling me that my thoughts or memories are wrong. Or people that dismiss my abilities or capacity for what I can possibly do. I've been gone from here almost twenty years. I think it's safe to say, that people just don't know me anymore. Maybe they never did.

Confusion

Just as the title says, I am getting a little confused. Because of this divorce going on and the way that I feel about my about to be ex, I am naturally very shy when it comes to new relationships. And I'm not just talking about men, but friendships and other things as well. I don't feel like I can trust anything right now because everything has changed. Everything is still changing for me. Or perhaps in a state of flux is the more appropriate idea.

Now, since my ex has found someone to move on with, and had before we even separated, he's been trying to push me into a new relationship. Mostly, I suspect, so that he won't feel guilty about cheating. I've told him repeatedly that I'm not ready and that even if I was, it would no longer be his business until I was ready to introduce a new man to the girls. But the kids can't even mention a male name without him jumping them for details. This man is going to lose contact with the kids if he keeps up this behavior. It's already on shaky grounds with the elder two.

But what I'm wondering is how I start trusting myself about what my instincts are telling me. Because I don't trust them right now. My gut was telling me to run hard and fast when my renter told me that he loved me. He was drunk and I think lonely and pretty sure that he meant it as a friend. I can't trust my instinct every time I have a conversation with someone that last's more than six sentences. Unless of course they're family or I've known them for many years. I just find myself micro analyzing everything that is said to me from these new people. I think I might just end up with trust issues.

Massive Changes

I started out writing a post here, not quite ranting, but going a little too in depth into the events of the past six months. Suffice to say that I am in the process of getting a divorce. Because my husband left our family and our home, there's been a lot of difficulties and stresses. Writing, while being a source of stress relief for me, has not been a priority. Or perhaps I should say writing for an audience and publishing in some manner has not been a priority to me.

Even now that I have moved my children to my home, where I am comfortable and able to recover from things that have happened, it still is not high on my list. I've had to move my children to a new country, try to find work and a whole list of other things that go along with the situation.

I guess that at some point, I will get back into the swing of writing. But going from being a housewife and homemaker for the past seventeen years plus, to suddenly being the sole bread winner is really going to cut into my old ways and routines. In all honesty, I will sacrifice the writing first, because everything else is for the health and welfare of the kids and myself. There it is folks. I know that you all will understand. And if you don't... I'm scratching my head here to make it simpler...

Camp Nanowrimo '13 Done!

The title says it all. Of course it lasts for the entire month. I met my goal early and decided to take it easy today. Of course, the really bad thing is that I feel out of my own loop. If you know what I mean. I haven't even looked at anything of my own, other than this story I was working on the past four weeks.  It might also be because there were a lot of things on my mind too. Birthdays, end of school for my kids coming up, my husband being injured on the job and not being able to see the specialist for so long. Money woes. It's all there. Like a bad white trash soap opera.

There were some good things too though. One kid started playing soccer for the first time. Enrolling my youngest into school for the coming fall. Friend's new baby arriving! That was awesome. Oh and teenage daughter breaking up with "boyfriend". Others might not count that as a good thing. But legally an adult, high school drop out that asked my fifteen year old to move in with him. Yeah, it was a good thing. The break-up obviously and she only spent one night crying about it. Drama. I barely remember the days in my life where there was none. And then I hit middle school. Wow, I feel old. And ranty. And a little blessed, if I'm honest.

So now I get the fun decision of what I want to work on next during May. And I might (read: most probably yeah) be moving. So packing will take up a lot of my time. I'll see what I can manage and what captures my attention. Even just going through the pile of stuff that simply needs editing might be a good place to start. It's almost as if I don't feel creative, because this month's story just wrote itself. I liked it, but it needs way too much more work at the moment.

I'll try and keep those that read my stuff here, updated on what I'm planning. Thanks for the patience guys!

Spring Blahs

Welcome to the spring blahs. Like many other parts of the country, we have been subjected to all sorts of nasty spring weather that is not at all spring-like. Snow. Yuck. But even though we've been pretty housebound around here, I have been writing. Just not on anything that I would publish. Mostly I've been writing for Camp Nanowrimo, the first camp occurring in April this year.  I've been doing fairly well, my goal being 75k this year. I'm just over half way there. I just find that I've been having problems getting into any of the projects that I currently have going on. We're so far in seasons on Supernatural that it's hard to go back and try to capture the emotion of the first season, especially as such emotional events are coming up in When It Changes.

I don't know, maybe once the scow melts and we can get outside more, I'll be able to perk up. Gotta say though, I made the switch to writing totally on my laptop and I am loving it. So much easier to keep an eye on the younglings when I can go where they are and see them, instead of sitting at my desk where I can't see them.

Also, cut off a good six inches of my hair. Hope that will help with the inevitable headaches that I get this time of year with the weather changes. Feels much lighter, even though my hair has thinned over the years. Whatever it is, I'll get it figured out and be back with a vengeance, hopefully soon! And if that fails, need to edit some chapters that I had written prior to this month and get them posted. Yay! I mean that. Seriously, yay.

Update on Who Fiction

So, as I posted a while back, I was starting to get slightly obsessive over Doctor Who. Was I going to write anything out of all that blathering? Well, of course I did. I'm just not sure they're fit for others consumption at the moment. I mean, really, so far I've got two crossing over with Buffy. One featuring a young Buffy with 10, Rose and 10.5, slightly odd as it is. Then another one that features 9 and Cassie Newton. I really like that one so far. Now, as to the big one, crossing Doctor Who over with Dark Angel.

Yeaaahhh... started on one and it got so fantastical it grew totally out of proportion. I had to stop and look at it and think... that's been way too influenced by other fanfictions I've read and not at all true to the shows in actuality. It was fun, but I got my head on straight. So I started over. The second fiction was just as fantastical, at least to me, but it was more based in the series. Both of them, with a few tweaks here and there. But then, when you cross shows over, you get that. So I got about 15 chapters written on that story and then realized that I didn't exactly tell how they got to where they were in the first chapter of that story. So I went and wrote that story. How the Doctor meets Max. Why they had to run and how she ended up in the TARDIS. I actually liked that one a lot as a one shot. So maybe, if I get the nerve up to do it, I'll get them all edited out and posted. Just need to psych myself up for it!

Fiction TGoM- Chapter Twenty-eight

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to NC-17

Chapter Rating: PG-15 (for language)

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode “Blah Blah Woof Woof”

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

The Glory Of Manticore



Chapter Twenty-eight

That's true,” she nodded. “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you now?”

The question hung in the air between them. It seemed as if time was stretching out, like a long slow pull of taffy. Max wondered how long before it would break. She wet her lower lip nervously, but the tension was immediately relieved as Logan's eyes darted to follow the motion of the tip of her tongue sweeping across the plump flesh. The darkening of his eyes and the slow grin assured her that the question wasn't all that unwelcome. And then finally, he spoke.

“Any time you want darlin',” he assured her in that slow, thickly accented drawl. She was surprised later, that she had been thinking about where that accent came from. Because the thought of thinking of that, disappeared from her mind the moment that she leaned forward and gently touched her lips to his. Acting like a gentleman that had learned some manners some where, Logan simply waited, letting her take the lead. Not that Max minded. As much as she hated the heat cycles that her genetic make up forced her into, she had at least learned to step up and take what she wanted some of the time.

It had also taught her how to catalog the signs of when a guy was into it or not. And Logan, was definitely into her. Or at least wanted to be. Her lips curved upwards as that thought flashed across her mind. She sighed softly with pleasure before pulling away. It was as good as it had been earlier outside the club. But this time, there was no paranoia that Zack might be spying on her. At least she knew that Logan had ways of sensing her bother as well and he was too relaxed in the moment for any threat to be closing in around them.

She drew back, blinking slowly as she studied the man before her. His face was a maze of mixed emotions. He looked, hungry, pleased, touched, almost... desperate and Max, above all, was pleased to see that she had instilled that in him. “What?” she asked softly, when his silence went on. He blinked once and then the shit eating grin was back.

“You don't know...” he began. Max waited as his shoulders tensed and flexed. With a dangerous smirk, Max winked at him.

“I'm not breakable, I can say no when I want to and really mean it, and now that I know how good your senses are,” she added, “I'm sure as hell not gonna lie about how or what I might be... feeling.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out and then it was his hands, those large rough, callused fingered hands that were cradling her face once more, her hands catching his forearms and reveling in the strength that she found there. He drew her close, his lips sliding against hers until the pressure, not tentative but not pounding either had her lips parting enough that his tongue slipped in.

The taste of him was spicy, warm. Beyond the food, the appetizers and the taste of beer still on his breath, Max found that base scent and taste that she had wanted. Who Logan actually was and part of why he appealed so much. True, he didn't know that she had some senses of her own that told her a damn good bit of information, but she could take from these moments too. And what she wanted, was what her brothers and sister's couldn't give. What ordinaries couldn't seem to step up and provide.

She wanted to be cherished, but admired. Loved for who and what she was but supported for what she was, in what she did. Logan, she suspected, needed the same thing. And always, the only man that she had ever found it with, a sense that she could be his everything, that she could be the one that he would lay down his life for. She had never admitted it for real, but she had always wanted to be that girl. A real girl that deserved those things.

Max had no objections at all as Logan's hand slipped down to her shoulder and then around her back, pulling her closer. As adept as she was at taking care of herself, she liked the feeling of a warm, hard, larger male body beside her, over her, even under. It was comforting in a way she didn't bother to explain, even to herself. But still, even though he was directing her closer, she wanted more still and without breaking their kiss, lifted her leg to throw over his thighs. Logan seemed not to object as, with a groan and a heated break to move his mouth, his tongue tracing a line over the column of her throat, cupped the bottoms of her thighs and pulled her closer.

She felt like purring as she felt the long hard ridge of his dick, through their clothes, against her. Friggin' purring! Well damn it to hell, she was part kitty and they were decadent creatures, weren't they?

Figuring that she had stayed idle enough, aside from his hair and lips and tongue, she drew her hands down his chest, feeling the muscles rippling as she pressed lightly with her nails. Logan grunted, the sound full of pleasure and tilted his head back. His eyes were glittering as his fingers kneaded the flesh he was holding. But more than that they were thoughtful. She waited, wiggling slightly to find a comfort zone, honestly more just to align herself totally and properly on his lap. She was unsure if things were going to go all the way. That was something she didn't usually...

And by the gentle kiss and the tension in his fingers that he tried to flex loose, Logan was under the same dilemma. Max was the one to break away this time, rubbing her lips over the deceptively smooth, soft facial hair until she could whisper in his ear, “if you're not ready for the next big step, don't worry. I'm not sure either.”

“Oh I want it darlin',” he sighed, leaning in to her administrations. “But you're right. It seems like it's too soon, but not soon enough.” He barked a short laugh and then turned to look at her, smiling widely. “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” she nodded, grinning wildly. There were some uneases lingering, mostly baggage from the past and she was unsure how she or he would handle them. She kind of suspected... “Old ghosts?” she asked.

“A closet full,” he grunted. “You?” he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Closet's not big enough. A web is more like it,” she pouted. “Just when you think you've got one stand straightened out, another bisects and you wonder, where the hell did that one come from?”

“Or maybe a ball of yarn,” he teased. “Just when you've worked out one knot, ten more show up.”

“Oh that's a god one,” she giggled and then sighed. “So we're agreed then? Nothing too heavy until...”

He pursed his lips and then blew out a breath. “Fuck if I know. This isn't how things have gone down in the past. Not that I-!” he broke off that sentence and eyed her just slightly wary, not of what he'd been about to say, but how she would respond to it.

“Same here,” she admitted, understanding perfectly. She glanced away and then shyly, very much so for her, she told him, “usually meet a guy, he likes, I like, we like for a while and then he bolts.”

“Can't imagine why,” Logan nearly growled, looking for all the world as if he wanted to simultaneously kick their butts for being assholes to her and rip their heads off for 'liking' her.

“It's the baggage thing,” she reminded him, shrugging one shoulder. “Isn't that how it goes down for you?”

He thought about it for just a few seconds, because she pretty much had it pegged. “Damn straight. I guess... maybe it was just because I hadn't found something worth sticking around for.”

“That's what I told myself too,” Max confessed. “I didn't believe it, really, until now.”

“What changed?” he asked curiously. The smile returned to her face as she leaned down to touch her nose to his.

“I met you.”

TgoM~TGoM

Logan stared at himself in the mirror that hung over the dresser in his own room. He couldn't help the smirk that he wore. He was feeling pretty good with himself. With his life, for the first time in a long while. It was true that the past was still holding him back. But at least this time it was at his decision, his behest. And it wasn't so much the past as it was that he didn't want something from it to come up and bite him in the ass. He wanted Max to know the truth before she went into this because the way he was feeling, he had the sense that losing her just might shatter him beyond his ability to pick himself up, brush off the dust and debris of a failed romance and go on. He'd done that, in several ways and forms over the past decade plus.

There was something about Max that was indispensable to his psyche. He didn't understand why or how, but removing her now from her life was like thinking of tearing his heart out. He didn't think that even with his healing mutation he'd just grow a new one of those in the few precious minutes that the rest of his body would need to survive. There, his smirk softened into a smile. He'd admitted it. He needed her like air and instead of being scared of that fact, he was scared of not telling her how important she was to him. Scared that he'd screw up somehow and send her running. Scared for a lot of reasons, but loving her? It was not one of them.

He stared at himself a moment longer before he wearily shook his head. How she could even begin to have feelings for him... curmudgeonly, old, dickwad to others that he was... But she seemed to like it. She was more mature than her cultural counterparts, he could tell. He suspected that something in her past had made her that way and she had given him a few clues to work with.

Swiping a hand over his beard, his fingers stilled as he recalled how she had threaded her fingertips through it, stroking at his cheek, almost unconscious of the fact. It had never hurt, pinched or pulled and several times she had rubbed her cheek against his. He had catalogued it all, every positive response from her, mind, word or body. The negatives were there as well, though much fewer. Like the way she had flinched ever so slightly when he had pressed, probably a little too hard, his thumb against the base of her spine. Her entire spine he knew, he had to treat lightly. It turned out to be too sensitive to be an aggressive erotic zone. The same went for her knees.

Now, her ticklish feet? That was a negative in a positive way. And a good sign that she was ready to cool down. He was too, but couldn't resist tickling at her feet that he had captured, just to hear her giggles and feel her body squirming against his in a less sexual way. It was playful, not all that familiar to him and delicious in it's normalcy.

Logan debated whether or not he should shower now or wait until after his run in the morning. After the preview they'd treated themselves to tonight, he was pretty sure his dreams were going to work him over but good. Possibly in several ways. He turned to glance at the turned down bed. Housekeeping had been in again and he took a deep whiff of the linens. The scent of the laundry, fresh to others but overwhelming for him, got in his nostrils and he fought the urge to sneeze. He buried his nose in the crook of his elbow and his eyebrows went up as the urge went away.

Her scent.

He turned his head slowly, smirking deeply as he tracked it back to it's strongest point, at his shoulder. He could very clearly recall how she had often rubbed her cheek or nose or even her chin against that very point. Did she even realize that she had been putting her scent on him? He doubted it. But it was there none the less. He glanced over at the bed again as an idea hit. Within seconds, he had stripped the bed of all but one sheet, since he really didn't want to be distracted by thoughts of what that mattress had seen in service to the hotel's patrons. The pillows went the same way as the cover and sheets and with a slight sense of satisfaction and anticipation, he stripped most of his evening clothes for his sweats. The t-shirt he had worn under the dress shirt, the one that Max had rubbed herself on... that he kept.

He laid himself out on the bed, on his stomach, pillowing his head on his crossed arms, nose turned to Max's scent that lingered and sighed happily, his eyes already drifting shut.

The sound of pounding, flesh on wood, his mind quickly informed him, was what woke him the next morning. His internal clock told him that it was early. Not too much so, but still enough that not many others would want to be up. And then it registered that it was not his door that was being knocked upon.

Logan blinked away the sleep and turned, cocking his head so that he could better hear what was going on next door. He reached out quickly with his senses, already up and out of the bed, tensed to wait.

“Max?” Scott was saying from the hallway. He was whispering, but Logan heard him clearly, as focused as he was. He heard Max's footsteps hurrying towards the main hallway of the hotel and then her door opening.

“Scott? What's going on?”

“It's Jean,” Scott offered quickly. “She's developed a raging migraine. Her usual medicine isn't working, but I found a place. I hate to ask, but can you sit with her while I'm gone?”

“Of course I can,” Max answered instantly and Logan relaxed slightly. He felt bad that Jean was hurting and worse that he'd never noticed until Scott had said, her elevated scents, displaying her dismay and the pheromones that clearly screamed pain. The scents were there, light in the air close to the door, found only because he'd serached for them. Of course, he had the excuse that he'd been asleep. He barely wondered if he should offer to stay with her as well, but dismissed the thought. Jean didn't need extra people crowding her right now. “Let me grab a robe and I'll be right over.”

“Thank you so much Max,” Scott gasped out in relief and Logan smiled sadly. Poor guy. He really did love Red. “I'll let Jean know.”

“Okay.”

The door closed and he heard the corresponding footsteps of each. Scott's taking him away and Max closer to the wall that they shared. He heard Max's sigh and some movement and then she had turned away, tracing her steps back and out of her hotel room. Logan frowned, feeling almost like a tether was between them, stretching out slightly as she moved steadily off to Scott and Jean's room across from hers. Scott had exited the room and headed off down the hallway as Max quietly greeted the telekine. It was harder to hear now that several doors were in the way, rather than just one wall.

Logan waited until Max seemed to find a place and settled in. He could hear a murmured conversation and decided not to pry. Women liked having their little secrets and private conversations. Plus, it was mostly, probably going to be assessing how bad off Jean was and anything they could do to help alleviate the pain. Since he had no suggestions, his body automatically did it for him, Logan had nothing to contribute. Other than to be vigilant over them until Scott was back and Max was where she belonged. He sank down to the floor, his back against the main door of his hotel room.

Satisfied that his senses would be hyper aware now, since Max wasn't as close as she had been before, Logan settled for a closed eyed, deep breathing relaxation that was neither sleep nor full waking. It didn't occur to him to be surprised that he could manage it at all, with someone he considered his in an even slightly vulnerable position.

TgoM~TGoM

Max slipped past Scott, who had gathered his coat, wallet and sets of keys, both room and car. “I'll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered and she nodded. “She's in the bedroom, but check before you go in.”

“Got it,” Max whispered back and Scott hurried out the door. Max was moving hesitantly, since she wasn't sure how to approach Jean, or even if she could. From what they had talked about before, having people around her when she was having one of her episodes made things tougher and more painful for Jean.

“You can come in,” Jean invited. Working from her power or just observation, Max wasn't sure. The grimace in her voice came through clearly. But Max wasn't going to make her wait and exert herself more. She wasn't a stranger to pain, could manage it, but neither did she like to prolong it. She wouldn't do that to someone else.

Jean was laying on her side, facing away from the door, slightly curled up in a fetal position, the heels of her hand pressing against her eyes. Max walked as quietly as she could, which, as a transgenic was pretty damn quiet. She halted at the foot of the bed, and gracefully sank down to her knees before settling back.

“You smell like Logan,” Jean said without looking at her and now Max could add bemusement to Jean's tone of voice.

“I know,” she said simply, quietly.

“You like it,” Jean observed without observing. Max smiled. “Oh that's nice,” Jean sighed happily. “Stay happy, please!” she begged and then Max realized that the telepathy portion of Jean's powers must have been rearing their head. Smiling, she concentrated on the elation that she had felt in Logan's arms earlier and when Jean chuckled, blushed just slightly.

“You're not getting the visuals here, are you?” she wondered, her voice still soft.

“A little,” Jean admitted tiredly, pulling her hands away, though she didn't open her eyes. “It's kind of intermingling with everything that I'm getting from everyone else on this floor. And the next.”

“Ouch,” Max winced. She tilted her head slightly. “Did it help or would it if I...” she screwed her face up a little as she tried to work out what would help a psychic not be so psychic. “I mean, you probably tried the meditation, right?”

“Right away,” Jean admitted. “It didn't help. Apparently about two hours ago, it was so bad that the bed was shaking, things in the room were floating. Scott was freaking out.”

“I bet,” Max nodded and then chewed at her inner cheek for a moment. “Does it help to touch... I mean like focus...” She winced and tried to hold back her sheepish laugh. “Sorry, I'm out of my depths here.”

“Sometimes touch amplifies things,” Jean explained, wincing again and her hands went back to her eyes. “Oh God,” she whimpered. “Nightmare.”

With nothing else left but to wait for Scott to return with medication hopefully strong enough to quell this, Max was moving up beside the bed and reached for one of Jean's hands. She didn't particularly want to share the things she had with Logan earlier, but thinking on it had prompted something. The moment that her fingers touched the back of Jean's wrist, she filled her mind with the memory Logan had asked for.

Images of Ben, entertaining her and her siblings with shadow puppets on the wall, the relief of Ben lifting his blanket up to allow her to crawl in and snuggle close to his side as they fell asleep warm and complete. The same from Zack, the way he'd stroke her hair. That prompted remembering Eva brushing her hair in the evening's when things weren't as rushed like they were in the morning. She had almost forgotten that and she replayed the sensation of it in her mind several times, committing it to the forefront of her memories. Then there was Tinga hugging her around the middle as she and Jondy had a tickle fight with her and she got trounced. Every good feeling, prompted by the love her family had given her, she replayed as many as she could in her mind. The pleasure of Zack handing her that beautiful red balloon and the feel of the latex under her finger. The slide of the ribbon through her hand as it tried to float up and away.

She had to fight not to let the sadness overwhelm her and when she felt it starting to creep in, she'd switch to a different memory.

After a little while, Jean perked up a little. “You grew up on a military base?” she asked curiously. Max simply smiled, not bothering to answer. Through the memories she was willingly giving Jean this time, it had to have been obvious. This time though, she played a few different things. The bracing scent of the air on a cold morning. The beauty of a tiny icicle formed off the point of a pine tree as winter set in. The yards and yards of unbroken snow drifts after a night's storm. The pleasure of being allowed to jump in and snow flying everywhere, so light and soft, but cold and tickly at the same time too. The pleased surprise of a fast and furious snow fight and then the warmth of a shower afterwards.

“Bobby'd love those ones,” Jean murmured, a small smile on her face.

“Which one?” Scott asked softly and Max glanced up over her shoulder at him. She had heard him return and had been surprised that almost forty five minutes had passed since she had started this. Jean moved and Max loosened her grip and pulled back.

“Memory sharing,” she answered before Jean could say anything. “Just was thinking 'bout the snow drifts at home and how fun it was to jump in one.”

“Oh yeah,” Scott nodded. “Bobby would like that. Jean? You seem a little better,” he remarked cautiously.

“It's coming back,” she winced. “But it's so much better than it was before.” She carefully pushed herself upright and both Max and Scott could see the desperate battle that had raged in her mind, etched over her physical features. Scott carefully opened the paper bag he had brought, mindful of the rustling noise.

“This is what Dr. McTaggert recommended,” he offered. “It's about the strongest thing we can get right now. It should knock you out for at least a few hours and she doesn't recommend you driving for a few more hours even after that.” Jean nodded tiredly and accepted the bottle from him. She tried to focus on the bottle, but it was clear that it was too much for her. Scott moved away, presumably to get her some water with which to take the medicine. Jean settled the bottle on the nightstand and turned her face to Max.

“You really don't know how much that helped,” she began and Max smiled gently and rubbed the woman's exposed shin.

“You don't sound like you want to tear your own head off and throw it into a vat of boiling oil,” she offered contemplatively. Jean barked out a short laugh and then gingerly shook her head.

“No, just boiling water now, maybe with some scrubbing bubbles,” she winced. “Some of these people really need therapy.” It was Max's turn to smile, but Jean reached to push a wisp of hair back and behind Max's ear. “I can't thank you enough. Especially given what you showed me. Something so personal...”

“The love I have for my family is never something I would deny or try to hide from you guys,” Max told her honestly. “The circumstance we were in? Whole different ball game. But I'm thinking that maybe one day, if I ever want to share?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I would listen,” Jean finished for her with a sad smile. “Thanks for staying. I know it made Scott feel better. But for now, I think I'd better take those and try and get some sleep. 'S too bad,” she slurred slightly. “Coney Islands 's fun. You'll have to tell me... when you get home.”

“Definitely,” Max nodded and patted the redhead's knee. “Take care Jean.” She rose and passed Scott on his way back into the bedroom.

“Can you hang on a sec?” he asked quickly and Max nodded. She watched as he delivered the water to Jean and opened up the bottle to shake out the required dose before he helped her drink everything down. He then tenderly tucked her back into bed and then made his way back to Max.

“You're still going to Coney Island?” he asked. Max shrugged.

“That's the plan,” she began, “but if you need us...?”

Scott gave her a brief grin. “No, I was just thinking that if you had your luggage ready, you can stow it here until we check out. We'll take it with us, so you and Logan don't have to worry about that.”

“Oh, thanks Scott,” Max grinned. She hadn't even considered that yet. “Okay, should I just knock before, or we can even run it down to the car. Less for you to do,” she offered.

“Either is fine,” Scott nodded. “Just knock at the door when you're ready and I'll either take it or give you the keys.”

“Excellent,” she nodded. “Now, try and get some rest too and don't worry so much. It'll be easier on both of you.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But I can't help it. She hurts and I hurt with her.”

“So instead, show her the love and it'll hurt less,” Max chuckled.

“Oh, I bet,” Scott grinned along with her. “Thank you again Max. One of these days, you'll have to teach me your little tricks with her. They've been more effective than anything yet.”

Max shrugged one shoulder again. “It's just been instinct, man. But whatever works, right?”

Scott nodded and saw her to the door, waiting in his own doorway until she was safely in her room and he heard the door bolt engage. And then he shut his own door.

Max slipped into her room and immediately shed the robe she had worn that was hotel provided. She paused for a moment, listening intently and then smiled. Logan wasn't the only one present with good hearing. She moved over to the wall that divided their room, placing one hand on the material that separated them.

“Jean's doing better Logan,” she enunciated clearly and in a normal tone of voice. “Scott's back and she took some medicine. And now I'm going to try a get in a few zzz's. Let me know when you're ready to head out.” She paused and then pulled her hand away from the wall. “Good night Logan.”

Then, after just a seconds pause, she was wrinkling her nose to try and repress the pleased quiet squeal she wanted to make, as his voice reverberated softly through the wall, “good night darlin'.”

Fiction From AtZR2- Jack

Title: From A To Z

Chapter Title: Jack

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel. They belong to Cameron/ Eglee. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG

Genre: Dark Angel

Type: sweet

Pairing: Max/ Alec

Summary: It's been ten years, perhaps it's time to let go.

Spoilers/ Time line: This fiction is a continuation of the earlier fiction “Entrance”.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This is my interpretations of the second round of A to Z fictions, using the prompts that Seamagik has come up with. Thanks for the inspiration, as well as Nickeldime17 for getting this all started.

J is for Jack

“I'm not saying it's not a good name Alec,” Max sighed tiredly. Their newborn son's unusual and early arrival notwithstanding, Max had thought that things would settle down fairly quickly. Unfortunately, as Alec had pointed out, the little tyke had seemed to not only inherit her shark DNA fueled sleeping patterns, along with the whole gamut of other typical newborn behaviors. And while she had would normally have no problem staying up with the baby through the night, she hadn't taken into account the toll that giving birth and trying to learn breastfeeding, diapering and just the host of new parenting skills that everyone had assured her would come in time.

So for Max, already worn out from pregnancy, birth and her bodies need for near constant fueling to feed her child, she simply did not want to have this conversation with her husband. Normally, if Alec wanted something, he would whine, cajole, plead until she gave in, or simply do it and ask forgiveness after the fact. But since she had hid the name registry application from him, since they hadn't had one chosen before the ordinary doctors had released her and Baby Boy McDowell from the hospital.

It was a little difficult for Alec to simply write in the name he liked and send it off to the registrar's office in downtown Seattle. Of course, it had probably occurred to him that he could just go get another form, but was wise enough to realize that if he did something as important as naming their child without her, she'd probably kill him. So he was stuck with the cajoling.

“It's a good name,” Alec reiterated and Max rolled her eyes. She was lying down with the baby, who was still stubbornly refusing to sleep. The nearest he came was a light doze and every time there was movement too close to him, or sound within his surprisingly wide range of hearing, he would pop his eyes open. In the two days since they'd come home, from their one day stay at the hospital, they had tried for a workable routine. Luckily, when Alec had explained the babe's lack of sleep, friends had been understanding in cutting him some slack about getting in to work. Of course, they were the de facto leaders of the whole shebang. So if Papa Alec needed paternity leave, that's exactly what he got.

“It's strong,” he went on. “Women like it, men respect it. Look at history.”

“I don't want to look at history,” Max grumbled, though she wasn't refuting his arguments. She was well aware of the appeal of men who'd worn the name proudly. “I'm just thinking of how it feels, you know, down the road, when I'm calling his name to come to dinner or come home or if he's in trouble...”

Alec grinned at that, glancing down at the baby, wide awake beside his mother. His eyes were still only able to focus on close range items, but he still followed the argument with attempts at flicking his eyes between the shapes and noises that he was rapidly coming to associate with safety, warmth, food and most especially, love. It made no never mind to a three day old what his name eventually would be.

“Given that he's my boy,” Alec chuckled, “then I'll think that last one will be a given.” Ceasing his prowling of the bedroom, Alec gently eased himself down to the foot of the bed, as Max pulled her legs up out of his way. He reached for the nearest calf and gently massaged. “Do you not like Alexander with it?” he wondered. Max shook her head. “Do you think the syllables don't work?” She shook her head again, not looking to him, but the darling infant that was starting to root around, working his little limbs as well as he was able. Which was to say, barely at all. Her hand stroked gently over his tiny head, covered with a fine dusting of sandy brown hair, a nice medium between his parents.

“What about Ethan?” Max piped up suddenly, though quiet, as she soothed her son. “It's a nice name too.”

“Ethan Alexander is nice,” Alec mused. “But I still just really like Jack.” She sagged a little as he didn't even seem to want to think it over. “How about this? You give me Jack,” he began, but at her skeptical look, chuckled and amended his statement. “I mean the name, he looks too content where he's at to move him. And if we hurry up and decide, then maybe he'll take a nap.”

“No such luck,” Max snorted softly.

“Anyway,” Alec continued as he resumed rubbing at her leg. “You give me Jack and I swear, the next one, you get one hundred percent control of the name?”

“Even if I want to name it Delilah Shanaquay McDowell?” she taunted immediately and then giggled at Alec's scrunched up face and hunched shoulders as he winced.

“I know you're not that cruel,” he sighed, “but yes. Even if I'm not thrilled with the name...”

Finally Max gave in, seeing that Alec wasn't going to give up this idea. “Alec, I just can't. It hurts too much.”

His face softened drastically. “What hurts babe?” he wondered, abandoning her legs to turn himself to scootch up behind her, and cradle her in his arms. There were no tears on her face or even starting, but he was wary all the same.

“Jack,” she shrugged the shoulder she wasn't laying on. “My brother had a grand mal seizure and died. I can't... I don't want to think about that every time I look at my child.”

“His name was Jack?” Alec realized in a painful instant. He'd known about the seizures, of course he had, and Max had told him once that it was these events that had prompted their escape from Manticore.

Things didn't need to make much more sense than that, but when he glanced down, at the child that lay beside his wife, to think that there was a time that his little boy could be more helpless than he already was, to have that added danger haunting him, stalking him... He suddenly knew exactly how Max felt. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice low as he responded again. “Okay baby, no Jack. We'll figure something else out.”

Alec felt the shuddering release of her tension, did not need to see her face to know the tears leaking from her eyes. He could smell them, as it seemed, could their son, who began to coo worriedly. His hand instinctively stole from her elbow, to between them, giving one finger for his son to grasp at while the others spread over her stomach. Jack held him and a moment later, Max's hand slid over his knuckles as she sniffled, forcing a smile for the littlest McDowell.

They all heard the knock, but not the approach that had brought it to the bedroom door at the same time. Max and Alec's head's came up, both their hands moving to cover the baby as they assessed the newcomer. And relaxed instantly when they saw it was Joshua.

“Sorry,” the large transgenic apologized as he peeked in the open doorway, his right hand resting on the door jamb. “Knocked on door. Heard the baby. Didn't know if you two were awake.”

“Yeah Josh, we are,” Alec pointed out unnecessarily, even as Max gave a huge ear cracking yawn. He cleared his voice and tried for a smile that wasn't all grimace. “What'd ya need?”

With an unsure movement, Joshua lifted the book that he was holding in his other hand. “Brought this. Thought it could help.” He glanced down at the book, flipping it around from where he'd been showing them the cover to smile once more at the imitation of life represented on the front.

He glanced up to see them both wearing similar expressions and Joshua cleared his throat. “Was curious,” was all he said to explain his fascination with names now. It wasn't quite equal to their own, but he doubted he ever would be. “Joshua means 'God rescues'.” He informed them with a frown. He lifted the book to flip through it to the last point of interest he had had. “And all sorts of names in here.” When he came to the section he had marked, he gestured with it more to Alec. “Found Jack. Means gift of God. Actually, that's Jonathan. Which Jack is a nickname for.” He barely noticed Alec's wince and wondered if the baby was twisting his finger, before he decided that Alec surely could handle that.

“We uh, decided against Jack big guy,” Alec declared, gently moving himself to a seated position. Joshua frowned, knowing how much Alec had liked the name. But he thought carefully before speaking. They both had to like the name to agree. That was the problem from earlier. The names they'd come up with weren't just right. Names had to be just right, since they lasted a lifetime. His friends glanced at one another and he knew he did not miss the tiniest of nods that Max gave her husband, who frowned and rubbed at her hip.

The baby began to fuss a little and Max gave her full attention over to him, knowing that her husband was there to shelter and protect them, should the need arise. Not that it would with Joshua also there. Alec scooted a little towards the end of the bed and Joshua respectfully pulled his eyes away from Max and the baby completely. He might be a transhuman and their friend, but you still did not disrespect another's man's mate by staring at her in an intimate,... bonding moment, which was apparently what the baby wanted. Alec stood from the bed and moved to Joshua's side.

Joshua kept his eyes on Alec for several reasons, fully prepared to be gently ejected from the room. But his friend stopped to touch the baby book. And then glance up into Joshua's eyes. “One of her brother's that died early,” he spoke so softly, like it was an ill omen, “was named Jack.”

“Oh, right,” Joshua nodded and then frowned. “Sorry.” He pushed the book towards Alec. He wanted to offer to stay, to let them rest without fear of missing something the baby needed, but he knew it was still to soon for their instincts to let him that much further in. In a few days, as some instincts relaxed and others kicked in, he knew they'd broaden the circle. Just like the others. Maybe sooner with the baby's propensity for lack of sleepiness. He turned to go, but Max called him back.

“Wait!” she called softly and Joshua paused. “Joshua, you said Jonathan?”

“Uh huh,” he answered with a grunt, not staring. Did not need to see Max's ta ta's! He could hear her chuckle and Alec's as well.

“Nice blush there Josh,” he teased. Joshua quickly pulled his hand up to shield his peripheral vision and turned his head back to hiss unhappily at his friend.

“Don't need to see Max's goodies,” he grunted. “For Alec and the baby.”

“Sorry Joshua,” the both apologized at once, one sounding amused, the other contrite. It was Max that continued though. “There, I have a blanket. It's okay.”

Joshua sensed the air before consenting to put his hand down. Alec looked completely relaxed, so Max had done what she said and had given her permission. Perhaps baby sitting would come very soon.

Once his hand was lowered though, Max went on, still watching her son. “I think I like Jonathan. He is a gift after all.”

“Of course, my love,” Alec agreed lightly, but Joshua could see he was in a way, humoring her. It was more to see where she was going with this, he was sure. But then something seemed to click with the other male. “And it would be a way of remembering him, honoring him, if you like.”

“Yeah,” she agreed a little breathlessly. “You wouldn't mind?”

“Jonathan Alexander McDowell,” he tested it out. “Three, four, three. A good strong name with lots of syllables for you to lovingly yell out when the little guy's acting up.”

“Cause we both know he will,” she chuckled and then cooed back at the baby making some wild, erratic movements under the lightweight sheet she was holding over them. “I think he likes it too.”

“Hell, he's my kid, he don't care about a name at this particular moment,” Alec snorted in amusement, his eyes glowing. It didn't take them debate or hours, just a momentary recognition of what felt just right and their decision was made. A much easier prospect now, over what it had been between them in the past.

“Hallway linen closet, rolled up in the blue towel with the bleach stain,” Max announced and Joshua's eyebrows furrowed closer together. That was quite the subject change, but apparently Alec understood his wife much better than anyone could credit.

“On it,” he announced, nudging Joshua in the arm, for their friend to precede him.

“Bye Max,” he called softly over his shoulder. “Bye bye Jonathan. Uncle Joshua see you later.”

“Definitely,” Max called back as Alec was pulling the door shut behind them. “You little big man are gonna have so much fun with your uncle. But nappy nap first, right Jonathan? Now listen to my voice, cause I mean it this time. No more wakey, let your eyes drop...”

Alec chuckled and shook his head before his own yawn threatened to overtake his face. “Come on,” he muttered and Joshua obediently followed. They made it to the hall closet and quickly found the towel Max had been talking about. All was made clear as Alec unrolled it and found the registry paper that she had hidden, letting Joshua understand too. With a little pomp and ceremony, Alec made it to the table to fill in that all important information. Signing his name to the bottom with a flourish, he settled some large objects at either end, to keep it from rolling up once more and sent his friend off with thanks and a promise that yes, Gods yes, Joshua would be babysitting Jonathan very, very soon.

*****

About ten years later

“Pass the ball man!” Cortlyn yelled, from one end of the yard. The black and white soccer ball was being dribbled forward by one of the other older kids who had been playing this game longer than the younger ones. But age didn't matter with this particular group of kids. They played hard and they played to win. After all, they were what made up the small inter transgenic soccer league.

Alec had to smile as he watched his son at the farthest away position from where he was currently seated, on the patio, a beer in one hand, chips in the other. Jonathon was in the position of goalie today. It wasn't his usual position, but today's game was technically just supposed to be for fun. After all, it was a party.

“How come they decided to switch it up today?” Ward, Tiggy's dad asked. His daughter had complained several times that she wasn't getting enough play time, yet she seemed perfectly content today. He reached froward to capture some dip on a chip.

“They look more like they're playing rugby than soccer,” another father chuckled, this one the honorable Soren Jensen, who worked in city hall with Alec. The years had wrought a lot of changes, in the city and the world and Alec and Max had been through it all, together for good and ill. Alec, working the public sector angle and Max the strategic of Terminal city and their denizens.

“They do, don't they?” Alec nodded. Soren's daughter was here as well, of course, but the girl had elected to stay on the sidelines with a few other kids who didn't want to get knocked down in the fracas. “That's why we have our own league,” he explained easily. It wasn't anything too new, since they'd all gone through the learning curve with their kids. “It helps the kids to focus their strength and aggression through sports and academics. But it's also not fair to ordinary kids who don't have their advantages.”

“Yeah, but didn't you guys play East Middle School last week?” Soren wondered. Alec took a sip off his beer and nodded.

“There's always some coach that wants to test his kids off ours,” Alec agreed. “Middle was one of them.”

“And you trounced them, if I remember correctly,” Soren chuckled. Alec grinned a little.

“But they did it on skill,” Alec pointed out.

“We've got a very strict regimen when it comes to our kids playing those games,” Mole explained as Soren turned to him. The man had been around enough that he no longer instinctively flinched when the lizard like transhuman spoke. “Any player caught playing what any other coach would consider as too rough, faces removal from the game. Or worse.”

“Worse?” Soren demanded lightly, his eyebrows going up.

“A week's suspension from the team,” Alec offered, “if another kid gets hurt.”

Soren whistled lightly. “Sounds harsh.”

“But that's the way the world works,” Mole shrugged. “You think an adult can just merrily go on their way if they hurt another adult? I know they do, what with crime statistics being what they are. But we're trying to teach the kids very real consequences to life actions.”

“Listen to him now,” Max giggled, as she approached with Mary, Soren's wife. They were both carrying some platters of food, more geared towards the adult's appetites.

“I know,” Mary grinned her agreement as Liana, Joshua's new friend, brought up the rear. “I remember those gloom and doom speeches of his.”

“Rants were more like it,” Mole teased her. For some reason, they had a strange friendship. Mostly, it seemed to the others, it only worked because Mary Jensen refused to put up with Mole's bullshit and he respected her for that.

“What do you think?” Max asked as she leaned slightly against her husband after setting the plate she'd held down on the table. “Are they about ready for burgers and cake?”

“Probably soon,” Alec answered as he wrapped his arm loosely around her waist and looked up at her. The time had barely touched her features. The only change since he had met her was the filling out of her face, breasts and hips since giving birth to their son had marked her forever. That and the change in hairstyles. She didn't normally care, but at some point or another every few years, she would lop off the appropriate amount that she was annoyed with and start again. That had been a while ago, this last cycle and her hair brushed his arm as she turned to wave at someone across the expanse of yard.

“Cindy's here,” she smiled and Alec twisted in his seat to see Max's oldest and dearest friend.

“Awesome,” he grinned.

“Give them fifteen more minutes and then call them in to wash up please,” she directed and leaned down to press a kiss against his lips. Alec smirked up at her and then nodded, pulling her close just one more time before he released her to let her go greet their friend.

“How long a drive did Cindy and Anne have to make?” Mary wondered as she took a seat between her husband and Mole.

“About forty-five minutes,” Alec answered. “They've been working non-stop on that house. Cindy figures they'll have it done in a few more weeks.”

“I am just in love with what they did with our country house,” Mary nodded as she sighed softly. “Cindy has quite an eye for the urban eclectic.”

“And Anne balances it out with her rustic homey feeling,” Liana offered. “Just like the pair of them.”

“Jack! Jack! Get it!” they heard one of the kid's yell out then and Alec's head turned to regard the children playing. He saw his son make a dive that would seem impossible for a normal child, but his boy made it with ease. It wasn't the fact that he drove one knee into the ground though that had Alec wincing. It was the look on his son's face when he came up with the ball he'd kept from going into the goal as the boy's eyes searched instantly for his mother.

As did Alec.

But Max, who had been determinedly marching over to greet Cindy and Cindy's wife, simply paused to wave at her son and give him a thumbs up before she moved on. Alec saw Jonathon relax and then and only then, accept the congratulations of his teammates before the game got underway again.

“Problem?” Soren asked wisely, used to the troubled look on Alec's face when family matter's were bothering him.

“Nothing,” Alec frowned. “It's nothing.”

“Max not like Jack for nickname,” Joshua provided softly.

“Didn't she have a brother named Jack?” Liana wondered aloud and both Joshua and Alec nodded.

“Yeah,” Alec sighed. “He died when he was a kid. But that's not so unusual given the givens.”

“Oh, that must have been rough,” Mary sympathized. “And I can see now why she always insisted upon Jonathon.”

“Yeah,” Alec murmured again, leaning back in his seat. His eyes watched his son, who still seemed a little apprehensive as his eyes flicked to his mother repeatedly. “She used to have a meltdown every time someone tried to shorten it.” He grinned momentarily and rubbed at his ear. “She doesn't like Johnny either. But some of the kids at school have been calling him Jack. Which I know Jonathon doesn't mind, because it sounds tougher and just because he's my son, doesn't mean that he doesn't have to prove himself with the older kids every now and then.”

“I guess fitting in with your peers no matter your abilities is always gonna be rough,” Soren nodded. They quieted then as Max returned with Cindy and Anne in tow.

“What are we all discussing?” Max asked with amusement at the sudden quieting at the table. She gestured to her friends behind her as Cindy and Anne pulled up two more chairs. “Everyone, you all remember Cindy, Anne?”

There were nods and greetings. But it was easy for the newcomers to see that they were stepping into something heavy. Max didn't sit, as she was carrying the gift that her son's godmother had brought for the boy.

“The boys were just surprised you were so calm about Jonathon,” Mary announced, deciding, as she was wont to do, though only in a private conversation and not public, such as attending a political event with her husband, to just cut through the bull.

“What about him?” Max wondered, seeming truly puzzled. “Is he hurt?” she asked calmly of her husband.

“Doesn't seem to be,” Alec offered and then cringed a little as another of the kid's used the dreaded appellation once more.

“Oh, that,” Max chuckled in realization, obviously hearing it too. She rubbed one hand across her husband's shoulders and back and then stilled it for a moment as she included everyone at the table in her glance. “It's no big deal.”

“Yeah?” Cindy scoffed, easily picking up the matter, since her ears worked just as well as another's. And these kids were being anything but quiet. “You sayin' that now girl, but is Alec gonna be getting' an earful after da party be done?”

“No,” Max chuckled. She glanced over at her son and beamed. “I assume Alec filled you in.”

“About your brother?” Soren asked a little delicately and Max nodded to him. “A little.”

“Yeah, well, the other day, I realized that today, Jonathon would do something my brother Jack never did,” she offered.

“What's that babe?” Alec wondered. Her hand slid again and squeezed at the shoulder closest to her. His hand stole up to cover it.

“He made it to ten,” Max offered, just the slightest bit tremulous. “And I knew, hey, if he can make it ten, he'll make another ten and ten more after that.”

“Kind of like a curse that was lifted or something, huh?” Mole grunted and Max's smile returned.

“I don't think he was actually cursed in the first place,” she pointed out wryly, “but yeah, something like that. If he likes the nickname, then whatever. I know who he is and he knows. He's the one that has to live with it the rest of his life.”

“You sure babe?” Alec pressed, needing to be sure, since it would literally kill him for Max to hurt in any way shape or form.

“I'm sure,” Max nodded and then turned to lift her hand to cup it around her mouth. “Jack!” she yelled, certain to be heard across the expanse. “Call the game, Jack! It's time to eat!”

Alec swiveled around to see his son's astonishment and then grin, just like his own, before the boy called out some instructions to his teammates and the ball was dropped in position and the stampede of hungry mini transgenics was on. “Christ,” he muttered. “I hope Emily's ready for them.”

“She is,” Max nodded. “I'm just going to put this with the rest of the presents and get my plate.”

“You sure you wanna brave that mob?” Ward piped up and shook his head.

“Don't have to,” Max supplied cheekily. “Emily put a plate together for me before any of the kids went in. She and I arranged that already. After all, she agrees that I shouldn't wait to eat when I'm hungry.”

“Well, no,” Alec agreed slowly, confused, because his wife of over a decade had had a propensity to making sure that everyone else was taken care of first, before she'd look to herself. Sometimes that had narrowed to be just he and Jonathon and he'd never much liked it. So seeing her acceding to previously stated admonitions was sort of... “What's up babe?”

“Please, don't you remember what my appetite was like before?” she teased and then turned to her oldest friend, who had gasped in recognition. She shifted Cindy and Anne's present to her hip and rubbed one hand over her stomach. “But we're definitely naming this one Evelyn.”

“Evelyn?” Alec repeated dumbly, as he stared up at his wife. “Max? Wha-!”

“Hey! You said!” she protested good naturedly. “Remember? If you got Jack, then I got to name out next one? Just took me a while to get to it.”

Alec's eyes widened in realization of what she was saying and his eyes darted to her stomach. “Evelyn?” he choked out again.

“Seriously Alec!” Mole scoffed with a bark of laughter. “You didn't notice the mellow out? We haven't seen that in what Max, ten years, plus eight months?”

“Exactly,” Max giggled. The lizard transhuman rose from his seat and skirted the table.

“Lemme take that in and you resuscitate your husband before he expires from the shock,” he decided, taking the present from her as Alec scooted his chair back to pull Max down to his lap while he kissed her soundly. Even the sound of their son calling from the back door of the house for them didn't interrupt their private moment of joy.

“Mom! Dad!” he called plaintively. “Mo-om! Emily wants to know if Aunty Gem is back with the cupcakes yet. C'mon Dad! Gross!”

There were chuckles from all over as Mole reached the boy and clapped one hand to his shoulder. “Don't worry about it kid, just avert your eyes like the rest of us do.”

“Right,” Jack scoffed. “You don't have to live with them.”

“Yeah, well, your mom was just spreading a little good news,” Mole supplied as he herded the boy back into the house.”

“Oh yeah, what?” the sandy haired mini version of Alec asked.

“Remember what you asked Santa Mole for last year?” the lizard man prompted and Jack's eyes grew a little distant before he glanced up at the man.

“Yeah,” he said carefully and then his eyes widened as he took in the news. “Seriously?” he demanded and Mole just smirked. He couldn't contain the kid as he tore off again.

The boy burst out of the house, making a beeline straight for his parents. Alec who was still in a slight amount of shock for not having noticed any symptoms yet and Max teasing him about her reasoning as to why this one was a girl. Much more considerate of her mother. But just as ravenous as her brother. They clammed up as the boy reached them and skidded to a halt by the patio table.

“Is it true?” he demanded, not the least bit out of breath.

“Is what true, kiddo?” Alec grunted as he leaned around his wife to see his son.

“Are you pregnant, Mom?” Jack demanded with all the seriousness he could muster. Max raised a single eyebrow and when she felt Alec's soothing hand on her back, knowing that he was leaving it up to her to tell him now if she wanted, she relaxed.

“Yeah Jack, I am,” she nodded, smiling slightly, although slightly careful. “What do you think?”

“You called me Jack,” he reminded her and she smiled widely and reached to cup his cheek.

“I know.”

“And you're havin' a baby?” he went on. She nodded and the smirk that he gave her was so adorable that she just wanted to smother his face in kisses, kind of like she did to his father when she was in the right mood to deal with Alec's cockiness.

“What's the verdict, kid?” Alec wondered, watching his son carefully as well and couldn't help but burst out laughing at Jack's succinct proclamation.

“Best.... birthday.... ever!”

From AtZ Round 2- Kill