Disclaimer: I don't own X-men. Obviously.

A/N: The chapters of this story might be really short, as I don't really want to make it into anything really long. The story might not be over even 10 chapters.

Chapter I: Waiting

(Ronny's POV)

"Calm down, son," said my father, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I stopped my from tapping the small table in front of me, and picked up one of the many magazines strewn across it.

I was in a hospital waiting room. Waiting…for the birth of my first child. My son! Ronald jr. I'd already been waiting for about an hour. I wondered what was taking them so long, and if everything was okay. My mother was in the delivery room assisting my wife, Carol, as well as Carol mother. I'd been too nervous to join them, so I stayed outside with my father, and Carol's father, Mr. King.

I flipped through the magazine, a cheaper version of a US Weekly, trying to get my mind of the waiting and stress of it. I scanned through an article concerning terrorist attacks in some Middle Eastern country and whether America should be involved. Frankly, I thought there were greater problems like…

Something caught my eye, as I turned the page. "MUTANTS: Yes or No?"

Mutants…I shook my head. Wasn't it obvious? I thought as I read the small piece on whether they should be accepted, for more cases were popping up. The mutants should be extinct. They're immoral and unethical. The human race was bad enough without having this mutant disease spreading.

I remembered my brother. Or who I thought was my brother. My dirty brother. The mutant scum, Bobby. I still shudder at the thought of interacting with him for all those years. But that trouble was over now. My family was safe.

Consumed in my anti-mutant thoughts, I wasn't aware that my father had left my side, and Mr King was also absent. I only knew they'd been gone, when they returned. I looked up. My mother was with them now. She seemed worried, but she smiled at me anyways.

"Er…Mr Drake?" addressed a voice. I stood up, placing the magazine down, and went over to the doctor who'd just called me. I stood by the door leading into the delivery room. I looked at my parents, and father-in-law, then turned to the doctor. My heart was beating rapidly, as I'd been eagerly waiting for news of my child. Then, the dreaded words hit.

"There's been a complication."