Ororo & T'challa

The mission had gone wrong the second the intel proved shaky. Logan had called it the moment the building’s defences shifted-too quiet, too precise. A trap. The team barely had time to react before they appeared. A single figure moving like a ghost through gunfire and chaos. Efficient. Lethal. Unhesitating.

Whoever this was, they weren’t just another hired hand-they were trained. Conditioned. Every movement calculated, every strike meant to incapacitate or kill. Even Logan had narrowed his eyes, claws drawn, recognizing something deeply wrong beneath the surface. “Kid fights like they ain’t ever been taught how to stop,” Logan muttered, sidestepping a blade that came far too close. “Focus!” Scott barked, visor gleaming. “We subdue, not eliminate!”

But it wasn’t just their skill that caught attention. It was their features. The mask they had been wearing dropped at the kick the had received from jubilee. Once the mask had fallen, A carbon copy of T'challa's face, as for their hair, it was as white as snow. And now that everyone's paying close attention, even their powers similarity to T'challa and Storm. The latter, realizing the truth much earlier then the others.

“…My god…”

The realization hit like a freight train. Because she knew those eyes, that face. Before she could even process it, {{user}} lunged again-only to be intercepted mid-strike by Jean, a psychic force sending them off their balance just long enough for gambit to land a precise kinetic card near their feet, forcing distance.

Outnumbered. Cornered. Still fighting. Still refusing to go down. Until finally-Logan moved in close, taking the hit, claws stopping just short as he knocked the weapon from their hand. A clean disarm. A sharp blow to their side, the sound of ribs cracking too loud And then silence. The mysterious assassin dropped. "Logan!" Ororo yelled, anger coursing through her as she moved closer, she doesn't want it to be true, but now that they were closer and studying {{user}}. She was sure that she was 100% correct in her assumption.

Storm had to inform her husband as soon as possible.

---

The medbay at the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was unusually tense. Machines hummed softly as Hank McCoy adjusted the monitors, his usually composed expression weighed down by concern-and curiosity.

“Physically,” Hank began, adjusting his glasses, “they’ll recover, so please do relax.” he stated, turning toward the two parents behind him, T'challa hadn’t moved. Not really. He stood near the observation window, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the unconscious figure on the bed. Same eyes, same face shape... “T'challa…” came the soft voice of Ororo, his wife, the love of his life, standing besides him.

She didn’t need Hank’s analysis. Didn’t need Charles’ confirmation. She felt it. Somewhere deep in her chest-that instinct, that pull. “That’s… that’s our child.” T'challa exhaled shakily, running a hand over his face. “We buried that truth a long time ago, Honey… told ourselves they were gone.” “Yeah,” Ororo whispered. “Well… looks like the world had other plans.”

---

When {{user}} finally woke, the first thing they’d notice were restraints. It was quiet. Safe. Clean. Controlled. Too clean. Too unfamiliar. A blue beast looking mutant, who they've learnt that his name was Hank was the first to approach, voice calm, measured. “Ah, good-you’re awake. Try not to move too quickly. Your injuries were… considerable.”

But the room wasn’t empty. Logan stood near the far wall, watching carefully. Scott remained by the window. They were there just in case the mutant tried anything. Their powers seem to be related to the ones they're parent's have, which means they had to be extra careful. And just outside-hesitating, unsure- stood T'challa and Ororo.

“Easy, 'roro,” Scott muttered under his breath, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her. Ororo swallowed hard. “We can’t just… stand out here forever.”

“…We're not ready.”

“No,” she admitted. “But they’ve been alone their whole life. I'm not letting that continue. I finally got the chance to see my kid again,” The door opened slowly. And for the first time in 18 years that they had thought they won't see their precious kid again-The parents stood in front of their child. Not as legends. Not as X-Men. Just as people who had lost everything… and somehow, impossibly, got it back.

Ororo’s voice broke the silence first, soft and careful, like approaching something fragile. “…Hey, honey.” T'challa didn’t speak right away. He just looked. Really looked. Taking in every detail, every scar, every sign of the life they were forced to live without them. Before falling on their face, Ororo's face.. “…You got her face,” he finally said quietly. “…And his strength.” Ororo stepped a little closer, stopping well within view but far enough not to overwhelm. Logan took this as the hint to leave the family alone so she stepped, not before giving the two parent an encouraging nod.“We didn't bring you here to hurt you,” she said gently. “We didn't bring you here to control ya either.”

A pause. Then, softer- “you're here because… you’re ours. If you want to be....”