So here is yet another X-Men, inspired-by-music fic from me, this time for the Evo verse.

The song I used this time I'm just going to say it. It's Daddy's a Fool by Nathan Brown. Go buy his CD, Gypsy Moon, or even one of his books of poetry. They are amazing. I met him in Santa Fe as part of my course, and he was the nicest guy ever. Poor guy even got stuck driving us around Santa Fe, and you know that had to suck, especially when he didn't have tickets into some of the places we were going. Plus, he's really, really good. I'm iffy about poetry, and his stuff was amazing and had me laughing or just feeling something. Buying the CD is also the only way you'll hear this song, since it isn't on YouTube anywhere that I found, or on his website.

Disclaimer: I in no way own X-Men: Evolution or the song by Nathan Brown (not that I use anything but plot ideas from the song). They belong to their respective owners. I'm just using them for my own twisted devices.

Taking a drink of his morning coffee, Logan had already retreated to the safety of the garage as the morning scramble for breakfast and to get to school took place. He knew the Elf and the Half-Pint would go together, Kurt porting them along alleys and on to the school grounds, or at least close to them. Red and One-Eye would take his car. Porcupine had that damn board of his to take. Everyone was set in a routine, surprisingly quickly despite the dramatic upheaval it usually was to get them to the school.

Looking up from his paper once that bubble-gum convertible was gone, he folded it and tucked it under his arm. The kitchen would be safe now, and Ororo might share some of whatever she was cooking with him. She usually did make enough for her, the Prof, and him if he wanted any of it.

Taking another swig of his coffee, he walked the long way around to the front door instead of using the side door there in the garage. It let him check for trouble real quick before he went in for a Danger Room session, or one of the numerous odd jobs Charles had for to get the school up and running like he dreamed it should.

He stumbled to a halt once the front steps came into view, and a still unfamiliar scent of magnolia-scented perfume hit his sensitive nose. It still was hard to wrap his mind around a goth with a perfume like that, but it was so subtle he doubted the other kids picked it up. Maybe it was her clinging to southern roots, or maybe she was just living up to her code name that served as her real name as well and being full of contradictions. He didn't know, but he did know that she needed to book it to make it to school on time.

The Rogue was walking down the stairs, and she looked around, obviously baffled and trying to hide it. She kept adjusting her backpack's shoulder strap, and looking each way.

Logan growled to himself as he tried to figure out what she was up to. Waiting on Toad or one of her old Brotherhood buddies to appear? She'd been at Xavier's over the weekend, she ought to know that Mystique would have told them already that she turned over to their side.

Frankly, he was glad to see her outside of her room. He had no idea what she had been doing up in there. Storm had brought her the duffle bag of clothes and her school bag that were apparently the girl's only possessions from the boarding house, having found them tossed out like trash. She had quietly taken them and put them away in the part of her room she shared with Kitty. How that partnering was going to work out, Logan had bets on it going down in fire and brimstone while Charles had faith that they would grow from the experience. He had to partially agree, it could be worse. They could have tossed the goth into the same room as Jean, who proved to be much less flexible when it came to differences in personality in her personal space.

She began to walk down the drive way, and it was when she paused at the gate, looking both way with purple lips pressed together tensely did he realize the problem, and proceeded to kick himself. She had come in on the Jet, never came to the Institute before, not even with those Brotherhood yahoos. Bayville may be small, but the Institute was on the opposite side of town as the broken down boarding house she had called home since she left Mississippi.

Grumbling, he finished his walk into the house and to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Logan," Ororo called out as she heard him stomp his way into the kitchen. Judging by his walk, he was distracted by something. Turning around from where she was flipping pancakes, she was startled to find that he was just setting down his paper and cup and picking up his jacket and helmet off the hooks by the door leading to the garage. "Logan?"

"Errand to run," he growled back, leaving her rather confused. She didn't know of anything that needed done… And most errands involving the Institute required the van, not just his motorcycle that he was obviously taking.

Roaring down the drive, Logan wasn't surprised to see the Rogue was already gone. She was just stubborn enough to try to find her own way and end up lost. Taking a sniff, he caught the scent he had tracked before, usually for less than good reasons. He turned to the right, the opposite way she was supposed to be going, and followed her down three blocks, finding her just before she got herself even more lost. Her head whipped around at the sound of the motorcycle and she had immediately crouched into a defensive position. Logan approved.

"Come on, kid," he said, pulling up and parking in the middle of the road. "You're going the wrong way. School's the other way around."

She stood up straight, and he caught the mulish set of her chin. "Ah don' need your help," she snapped, eyes flashing defensively.

Fighting down both the urge to growl in exasperation or laugh at how much she sounded like him when he was young(er) and stupid. He took a page out of Charles's book, and took the middle ground. "Not help, then. Just a hand to help you figure things out now that you've moved across town. Deal?"

She eyeballed him, and then she was bounding over the curb and on to the back of his bike. He noted that either she had serious dance training or combat lessons, even before Mystique got her shifty hands on her. Logan noted that despite how quickly she climbed on to the back of his bike, she was much more cautious about how she wrapped her arms around him to hang on.

Problem was, Logan knew from conversations with Charles that if she didn't get some form of contact, she was going to go insane from isolation.

Grinning wickedly, he revved the engine and took off, taking delight in her shriek that quickly shifted from fear to delight, and her tightened grip around him.

He back-tracked to the Institute gates, and then took the easiest way to the school. There was no doubt she would find her own way soon, but if she had somewhere to start, it would be easier for her.

Stopping a block away, he put down the mount and waited for her to get off. Raising his visor, he said gruffly, "Think you've got the way, now?"

"Yeah," she drawled quietly, running her fingers through her hair to fix it from the window. The peculiar streak of white caught his attention. He wondered if it was part of her mutation or not.

Nodding his head, he watched her walk off. Unable to help it he called out, "See ya this afternoon in the Danger Room, Stripes."

Her indignant shout was drowned out by both the roar of his bike and the school bell.

Growling under his breath, Logan leaned against the wall of the Danger Room's control booth. He was "just watching" as he told Rogue when she demanded to know what he was up to. Technically, the Prof and Storm were supposed to run this session, but since it was Cyke and Rogue, Logan had inserted himself.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the young leader. Well, not entirely anyway. It was the fact that they were going against each other, and that Rogue might have to absorb him that had him antsy. She had admitted that Scott's mind had been the weirdest to absorb, just because of his childhood and the fact that she had to figure out how to use his powers when the part of his brain that controlled it was damaged. There wasn't much Logan could do about any of that, but he could be there for her throughout the experience and keep her from doing anything too stupid.

This was of course after she mentioned the aftermath of her chase from both the X-Men and Mystique pretending to be them. Apparently, for about a week afterwards, different aspects of the different personalities had reared up until she had pushed them back in her mind. Like she had to relearn how to speak English, since it was Kurt's second language. And though she hadn't been able to pinpoint why, small spaces had freaked her out for a while afterwards. Charles had informed Logan privately that it was a fear she had picked up from Storm. Hell, even this last time with Sabertooth, Rogue had been cranky and snappish towards him till a sparring session worked him out of her system. The Brotherhood members had made her feel like an idiot each time, and now Logan wanted to reassure her that the Institute was different.

The terrain had been selected as jungle, making it tricky to navigate as they tried to spot the other and take them out. Storm and Charles would decide when someone had been knocked out of the running. It was ranged versus melee, and no one was entirely sure how it was going to turn out.

Well, except Logan.

As was expected by the Wolverine, Scott let his chivalry get in his way, and refrained from using his optic blasts unless he had to. Rogue had no such qualms about using her own combat skills. And those bright red streaks of light were a dead giveaway amongst the green growth. At first, he worried because she wasn't appearing anywhere in the undergrowth. Then Logan snickered when Rogue trounced Scott before he even saw it was coming. The self-defense classes she had taken down South had given her a solid base to learn more from Mystique, and now from him. He had plans to make her just as good as him, if possible. She had the talent for it, anyway.

When she came up out of the session with a bounce in her step, he was waiting for her at the door. "Nice work, Stripes," he complimented shortly. He wasn't one to mince words, not really.

However, she understood. She gave that shy little smile that showed that she appreciated the compliment on what she knew was good work. Quiet, they continued along the hallway, just content to be with each other. Words weren't necessary.

Tugging at his shirt collar, he was grateful Rogue stuck up for him when Ororo began to nag about what the groomsmen were wearing. She had convinced both Ororo and her fiancé that going no tie and with a slightly open shirt was better for what they were doing, anyway. She didn't want the stuffy affair expected of upstate New York weddings, but the relaxed gathering of friends and family she grew up with in the South.

Thankfully, whether because he agreed to anything Rogue said or because he didn't want to wear a tux either because of previous bad connotations it had for him, Gambit had agreed.

Walking into the bridal suite, he found her standing nervously in front of the mirror. Perhaps because of her upbringing where gloves were required once her "skin condition" formed, or maybe because gloves were this weird thing between her and the groom, but Rogue had selected an Old Hollywood style gown, one that let her wear a pair of fingerless lace gloves that rest on her wrist and half her forearm. Gambit had long since convinced her to grow her hair a little longer and let it curl, so it looked to be the same length but was a mess of curls instead of straight. Currently, those were pinned out of her face, except for the white left to frame her face, with a white orchid, the center deep red, pinned behind her ears.

He grinned as she fiddled with the silver ribbon holding her bouquet of Black Magic roses together. Her nerves, he knew, weren't for herself. They were for the large group of mutants and thieves waiting for her. Rogue never did get used to being the center of attention.

"Ready, Stripes?" he asked. When she looked at him, he wondered with a pang to his heart where his lonely goth had gone. While she still had gone for the dramatic with a shade of lipstick that matched her bouquet, the fact remained that it suited her so much more than the bright purple of her high school years.

She took a deep breath and absently tucked a strand of white hair behind her ears, and he knew she was still his Rogue. "Yeah," she breathed, taking his offered elbow.

"You look nice," he told her gruffly as they left. She grinned and he knew she caught what he meant. His heart caught in his throat as he led her to the large cathedral doors. "Stripes…" he tried to say.

"It's alright, Logan," she told him softly. And he knew it was. Patting her hand, he heard the music change. "Our cue," she pointed out. He grinned and took a deep breath along side of her. The familiar scent of magnolia reached his nose, and he wondered if Gambit appreciated it. Too late to wonder, he supposed.

He had to remind himself, as the priest announced them Remy and Anna Marie Lebeau, that they were still X-Men. They would be staying at the mansion once they returned from wherever Gumbo had arranged for the two of them to disappear to for two weeks. They wouldn't be too far away… He repeated that to himself until he relaxed. They wouldn't be too far away. He would be close, if she needed him.

Logan walked down the hall of the med lab hurriedly. He didn't run. There was nothing wrong. Hank would have said if anything had gone wrong. Swallowing, he didn't pause from jogging the last few steps into the room he knew Hank would have put her in.

Remy had somehow beaten him down here, despite both of them having left the same hanger at roughly the same time. They had already situated themselves so Rogue was leaning back against him, lying between his legs. His arms were snug around his waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he looked at the bundle in her arms with awe.

She looked exhausted. More so than after the Danvers incident. But this time, there was a smile on her face and she wasn't in tears. Though, perhaps she had been earlier. Her makeup was a little streaked, anyway. It was a site he wasn't used to, despite having gone though almost everything with her.

Walking over, he looked down at the baby wrapped in a pink blanket. She stirred a little, but stayed snug against her mother.

Logan snapped his eyes back to Rogue, to catch her smiling at him wanly. "Meet Rebekah Lebeau," she said softly so she wouldn't wake the newborn baby girl. He smiled at her, words unnecessary between them.

"Mama?"

All three adults looked up as little Oli walked into the room, Ororo behind him to make sure he wouldn't get lost. Eight years old, he hadn't been too sure about this whole concept of a little sister. Even now, he was cautious as he walked over to his mother's bed. Logan reached down and helped him up on to the bed, so he could be hugged by his father using one arm and peer at his little sister.

Logan stepped back, and felt Ororo wrap her arms around his waist. "Kendall and Becka stayed up," she told him at a murmur, "James is in his crib."

He nodded absently, and looked at the family that had just grown by one. "You'll always be my little girl, Stripes," he muttered, before letting his wife lead him back to their own quarters. The mission had been twice as stressful since they got the call that Rogue had gone into labor early. Bed sounded heavenly right now… Hugging Ororo close to him, he felt something inside him ease. He was home, and his family was safe. Looking back over his shoulder towards the medlab, he added, all of them.

So, according to Marvel Wiki, Olivier is the oldest of the Lebeau siblings, and significantly older at that, so I figured eight years worked, yes? Kendall is indeed Logan and Storm's daughter, while Becka's father is unknown (she's a different continuity), but her powers were similar enough I tossed her to the two of them too. According to the genealogy on the same site, Kendall has a younger brother in her continuity, so I named him after Logan for simplicity's sake.

This is Rogue's wedding gown. If the link is destroyed because of site stupidity, someone let me know and I'll fix it.

http : / / www . clairepettibone . com / bridal / ? cp = gowns / chantilly