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Title: What
Comes After
Author:
Terri
E-mail:
xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating:
R, adult themes, references to assault and
sexual assault
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of them except Jules, who
I refuse
to give up ;)
Archive:
WRFA, Mutual Admiration, Dolphin Haven Peep
Hut - anyone
else, please ask and I'll happily provide
:)
Feedback:
Please? With some plot bunnies (no, seriously) on top? Good, bad, and ugly
welcome.
Summary:
There's a moment after you go through a traumatic event that makes you think,
just for a second, about what comes next instead of obsessing about what's
already happened. Our favorite X-men have more than a few of those moments.
Comments:
OK, this one is angsty. And not (as you might tell from my not posting it
to R/L lists...) very L/R friendly. This is in response to two plot bunnies
- one from Jen (rocnrods@aol.com - there's more than one Jen out there!) that
asked for a
Beast/Rogue
story featuring Jules and that had some Marie mommying in the works,
and one from Tiffany that was a very angsty Logan/Marie or possibly Hank/Marie
story that
had Logan leaving Marie when it counted the most and having her find happiness
with Hank before meeting an untimely end. Can't say too much more
about that
one - I might decided to do it as Tiffany intended and not in the mutated
version you see here ;) Tiffany's bunny, BTW, triggered this and since I saw
it this morning, I haven't been able to do much but write this fic. The other
influences have been The Calling's incessantly played but rockin' Wherever
You Will Go (don't ask, or these notes will never end), darkstar's brilliant
post-Mutant Registration Act fic, la bas, and the occasional bunnies and notes
I get asking for a post-MRA fic from me. I don't like to do them, mostly because
I think I have a different view of how that would all go - I don't think
we'd necessarily be rounding up mutants for concentration camp-type
experiences here in America. Yes, we're a land with a history of slavery,
genocide, and prejudice,
but we're also a land that tries to, and sometimes succeeds in, rising above
all that. I don't believe that we wouldn't try to do better than most people
think, even in a post-MRA world; I don't think we would persist in those mistakes
indefinitely. The other reason I don't like to do post-MRA fics is that fixing
things - relationships, shattered lives, etc. - is a lot more interesting
to me than chronicling the destruction of things. I can write all day about
two people repairing a relationship after a betrayal or hurt; I'm hard-pressed
to write even a few paragraphs describing the character's pain and suffering
in detail. It's just a personal bent of mine, and where I'd rather spend
my limited fic minutes ;) Anyway, all that is to say - this isn't a post-MRA
fic, it's a post-post-MRA
fic, set in a world where we've made those grievous errors but where we're
also beginning to correct them, and it's more about people rebuilding their
lives than suffering through them. Lastly - yes, I think these are the longest
author's notes ever written ;)
---------------------------------------------------------
The one
place he'd never expected to find himself back
at was Xavier's.
It had been almost two years after
he'd left
it, eighteen months after the Mutant
Registration
Act finally passed, fourteen months after
they'd started
rounding up mutants and creating the
'camps,'
seven months after the camps were shut down
once people
found out what was really going on there,
and three
months after the MRA was finally officially
repealed.
All roads seemingly led back to Westchester
for him.
He kicked at the now-dilapidated sofa a bit
while waiting
for Jean to get off the phone.
He hadn't
meant for things to wind up this way at all.
He'd left
the mansion with Jean for an adventure in
Canada.
Or at least that's what she called it. To
Logan, it
looked a lot liking making his usual rounds,
only with
the added benefit of falling into a cheap
motel bed
with a beautiful woman every night. He'd
meant for
it to be a fling, and Jean probably had too.
He hadn't
meant to spend two years with her.
But things
back in the US changed while they were
gone. When
the MRA first passed, there were legal
challenges,
public debates, and no plans for immediate
enforcement,
so, while he and Jean were alarmed, there
was no cause
for panic. The borders had been closed,
but they
both thought that would change soon, once
things settled
down a bit. They didn't know that
enforcement
was already taking place covertly, that
the camps
were already being set up. They didn't know
until they
started getting a message that the phone
service
at Xavier's had been disconnected when they
called that
something was wrong. By that time, it was
already
too late. The mansion, and everyone in it,
was either
dead or in a camp. Of course, Logan didn't
find that
out until much after the fact. The phone
service
was just the first clue, the first in a long
line of
clues he and Jean unearthed over the years.
Logan insisted
on heading back immediately when the
phone service
went out. Jean wasn't opposed. She
seemed as
frantic over Scott as Logan was over Marie.
They stopped
sleeping together and Logan stopped
sleeping
at all, devoting every moment to searching
for their
erstwhile lovers. The first step was to try
to get into
the US, which wouldn't be easy. The only
thing they
had going for them was that they'd be
arrested
by Canadian police on the Canadian side,
leading
to a fine and perhaps a brief jail stay
instead
of the internment in one of the camps that
getting
caught on the American side would bring. They
were arrested
at the border half a dozen times before
they made
it across.
Once they
had made it across, they found out about the
camps, they
found out that Xavier's had been one of
the first
places hit in the 'covert phase', and they
found out
that Charles and most of the kids had been
killed in
that first fight. Jean eased at that - it
meant that
Scott had at least survived that fight -
but Logan
didn't. He wasn't sure if Marie would be
counted
as a 'kid' or not.
By that
time, the horrors of the camps had been
revealed
for all the world to see, thanks to CNN. The
public was
beginning to shift, beginning to demand the
shut down
of the camps and the repeal of the act.
That was
when the damn broke loose in terms of
information.
Logan and Jean found out more in those
first few
weeks after the CNN expose than they had in
all the
prior months. Rumors surfaced that Marie had
been spotted
alive in one of the camps a few months
ago, and
so had Scott. Word trickled back that Remy
had been
killed trying to escape a camp in Rochester,
that Magneto
was executed outright at one of the camps
for some
minor infraction, and that Sabretooth had
also met
his end at a camp, the same camp that Marie
was sighted
in. Logan and Jean had hope, real hope,
for the
first time since their search had begun.
The past
few months had been frustrating. After the
initial
rush of information, more was hard to come by.
The camps
had fallen abruptly, and the information
they'd held
was often destroyed in the process. They
hadn't been
able to find even one solid lead on Marie
or Scott.
Logan wouldn't give up looking, though.
He'd agreed
to Jean's plan to head back to the mansion
to make
it a home base of sorts, but he wasn't about
to sit still.
Marie was alive, he had to believe
that, and
she was out there somewhere. He would find
her. It
was only a matter of time.
"Logan,
did you hear me?" Jean had somehow managed to
get off
the now-working phone and come up beside him
unnoticed.
"What?"
Logan looked over at her. Her face was red
with tears.
Please not bad news, he thought, please
not something
about Marie.
"Scott -
that was Scott! He heard about us - I told
you that
getting the word out would help. He's
coming.
He's coming now." Jean had insisted on
letting
the mutant underground know that they would be
reopening
the mansion and taking in any mutant who
needed help.
Logan wasn't wild about the idea, to say
the least,
and he let Jean know in no uncertain terms
that he
wouldn't spend time wiping the noses of
orphaned
mutie kids instead of getting out and looking
for Marie.
The only persuasive thing that Jean had
said was
that perhaps Marie would get word and head
back here.
That had been enough to secure Logan's
agreement,
if not his cooperation.
"What about
Rogue? Did he know anything about her?"
"Yes. Logan
- maybe you should sit down. I think - "
"What, dammit?"
He grabbed Jean by the shoulders,
hauling
her to him. His eyes burned, and Jean
swallowed
hard, not wanting to tell him the news Scott
had passed
along but realizing he would only get more
agitated
if she didn't do it immediately.
"Scott was
with her in one of the camps. Rogue,
Scott, Ororo,
and Hank - they were all together at
first. About
six weeks after they were brought in,
Hank and
Rogue were taken somewhere else. He thinks -
Scott's
been tracking them since he got out and as
best he
can figure, they escaped the camp they were
transferred
to, a few weeks, maybe a month, before it
was closed."
Jean didn't tell him the rest - that
Scott wasn't
sure if they'd perished in the escape
attempt.
Logan didn't need to hear it, Jean thought,
he needed
to hope. "It's promising, isn't it?"
Logan finally
exhaled, and released her. "Where did
he last
have her?"
"Vermont.
The camp was in the mountains of Vermont."
"I'm goin'."
Logan headed for the door, only to be
halted by
Jean's telekinesis. "Let go," he growled
without
looking back at her.
"Wait. Logan,
please wait until Scott gets here.
He's in
the city, in New York, it'll only be a little
while. Please
just wait. We didn't - he didn't have
a lot of
time on the pay phone. He might know
something
else. It would be smarter to wait and get
more information."
"Let go!"
Jean started at his anger and complied, and
Logan stumbled
forward for a few steps before whirling
on her.
"I toldya to never fuckin' do that again!"
"I know,
I - "
"Shut the
fuck up! Shut up!" Logan's claws sprang
out, and
he spent a few moments furiously clawing one
of the oak
beams in the foyer. Jean watched as he
spent his
rage, waiting until the claws retracted
before speaking.
"I know
you want to find her. This is the best way.
Wait for
Scott." Logan growled at her, but headed
back to
the inner recesses of the house.
"It's them,"
Scott confirmed as he stepped out of the
phone booth.
"Jean and Logan. Good thing I memorized
the old
phone number." He reached out a hand toward
Ororo, and
she caught it, gracefully pulling him
toward her.
He smiled his gratitude. In surroundings
that he
was familiar with, he could manage well.
Here, in
the city, surrounded by foreign places,
people,
and things, he relied heavily on Ororo, just
as he had
in those first few days after they'd gouged
out his
eyes.
"Are they
well?"
"They're
- they're fine." It seemed an odd thing to
be saying.
People, friends, weren't ever 'fine.'
'Dead,'
'insane,' or 'hurt' were what mutants were in
this world,
not 'fine.' Scott tried to push those
thoughts
away and reminded himself that it was a
different
world now. Things were changing for the
better.
The Act had been repealed, after all. Things
*would*
get better. "They've been in Canada.
They're
reopening the house, just like we heard. It's
not just
a rumor. I told Jean we'd be coming up
today."
"I am glad
they are well," Ororo said softly. It was
a cliché,
but losing his sight had made Scott more
aware of
his other senses. His sense of smell told
him that
tears were forming in Ororo's good eye and
his ears
caught the note of fear and sadness in her
voice. He
fumbled toward her, awkwardly putting his
arms around
her and drawing her into an embrace.
"Hey, it's
going to be OK. I love you." He felt her
hugging
him back tightly and he knew she was scared.
He felt
the same way. It would be hard to face their
old teammates
after what they'd been through, and
seeing Logan
and Jean would be especially difficult.
It wasn't
just his missing eyes or Ororo's badly
burned face
and body. It was seeing them whole,
unblemished.
It was the fear that they would turn
away in
disgust because they were not themselves one
of the walking
wounded, not marked by what had
happened,
but it was also the fear that you would turn
away from
them, unable to handle your own envy at
their well-being.
Scott knew too, for Ororo, it would
be the fear
that he would somehow fall back into
Jean's arms.
His weather goddess was not a vain
woman, but
he knew her scars bothered her, and he knew
she had
never thought herself as beautiful as his
wife.
"And I love
you. Very much." The tears had crept
into her
voice now, so Scott held her tighter.
"Please
- please do not forget that. No matter what."
"I'll make
you a deal. I'll remember that if you do
the same.
'Ro, nothing's going to change between us.
It's - it's
you and me. I love you." He felt her
relax a
little in his embrace. "Do you want to not
go? I can
call Jean back. I can call collect. We
could just
- "
"No," Storm
whispered, "Let's go." Scott leaned
forward,
and Ororo maneuvered herself so that their
lips would
meet.
"Let's go,"
Scott repeated, finally parting from her
and allowing
her to lead him toward their car.
"I believe
I have it fixed now. Would you turn it
over once
more?" Hank bent over the open hood of an
ancient
Oldsmobile Delta 88, one that currently served
as both
his home and his only means of transportation.
They'd come
across it in a junkyard and he nearly
knelt on
the ground to give thanks for the day he'd
decided
to learn some mechanical engineering. He got
it running
again, with the help of a few parts stolen
from other
junkers, and they'd had at least some form
of shelter
ever since.
"OK," Marie
called out from behind the driver's seat.
She turned
the key in the ignition, and it started.
Hank smiled.
One more small success, one more way in
which he
could care for his family. These little
things were
important to him now, and, he thought, to
Marie.
Her smile
greeted him through the windshield as he
closed the
hood. She had one hand resting on the
steering
wheel and one on his son, who was
well-bundled
and asleep on the front seat. He flashed
back to
the day she'd given birth to Jules, a little
more than
two months ago, here, in this very car. The
back seat
still bore her bloodstains. Hank's lips
curled into
a smile when he remembered the sheer joy
on her face
at seeing him hold up a small, squirming,
blue-furred
boy. He'd vowed to her that this would be
their son,
both of theirs, even if she had been made
pregnant
by someone else. That wasn't her choice,
he'd reasoned.
He was the one she'd come to
willingly,
he was the one she loved now, and whoever
the father
was, he would love the child as much as he
did Marie.
The emergence of Jules in all his fuzzy
cerulean
glory, however, made keeping that vow very
easy. Moreover,
it had brought Marie great joy to
know that
the child she'd risked both their lives for,
the child
she'd suffered so much for, was created out
of love,
not forced upon her by violence.
"I believe
we are ready to get going." Hank climbed
into the
back seat, then reached for Jules, carefully
bringing
him to rest on his shoulder. They both had
to hide
in the back seat while Marie drove. Even
though there
were no more camps, no more legal
discrimination
against mutants at all, two mutants as
obvious
as Hank and Jules attracted unwelcome
attention.
Especially in crowded areas, especially in
daylight,
it was safer for them all that the two men
remained
hidden beneath blankets in the back.
"We should
be there in another day or so." Marie
paused before
shifting the car into gear. "Hank, do
you really
think it's true?"
"If it is
not, perhaps we should make it so. It would
be a wonderful
way to honor Charles' memory." Hank
reached
his free hand forward to squeeze Marie's
shoulder.
"It is worth a try, yes?" She brought his
hand to
her lips for a quick kiss.
"Yes." Tears
welled up in her eyes suddenly.
"Marie?"
Hank inquired softly. He knew she was still
wading through
the aftermath of incredible trauma, and
the final
experiments they'd performed on her were
still taking
their toll. She wouldn't have survived
at all had
it not been for her inheritance of
Sabretooth's
healing factor. It still surprised Hank
that she
had treated that beast with so much mercy,
granting
him an easy death at the cost of having him
invade her
mind. But, he reminded himself, the rules
had all
changed by then. They were no longer our
enemies,
but our brothers in bondage. Even Sabretooth
didn't deserve
to suffer what they'd planned for him.
"Sorry.
Just thinking. Sorry." She cried harder,
though,
and let go of Hank's hand.
"Come here,
come back here. It's all right." She
nodded,
Hank situated Jules on the seat beside him,
and Marie
crawled back into Hank's lap. "Oh, my love.
You are
safe now. You are safe with me. We are
doing well.
We will make it to Westchester." He felt
her nod
against him. "Are you feeling all right? Do
you need
to rest?" The mutation-suppressing serum
she'd been
injected with had killed every other mutant
they'd tried
it on. Despite Sabretooth's powers, she
was still
very weak and tired. Being pregnant during
the experiments
hadn't helped. Hank knew she was
operating
on sheer will over most of the past few
months.
After she delivered Jules, she often gave up
her share
of the little food they had to be sure that
Hank remained
strong, and it overworked her healing
powers all
the more. She was so run down by the time
she delivered,
that she hadn't been able to
breast-feed
Jules, a fact which Hank knew caused her
great distress.
Hank was optimistic that she would
return to
full health given adequate food and shelter,
but it would
take time, maybe a year or more. He
hated that
he couldn't cure her, couldn't use his
knowledge
and intelligence to help her, but they were
in a survival
mode now, and he had to do what was best
for the
family as a whole. He had to concentrate on
food, gas,
and formula for Jules. Experiments and
expensive
lab equipment would have to wait. "Marie?"
"I - I might.
I'm sorry. You just got the car
started
up again." She looked up at him with red,
puffy eyes.
He thought again how beautiful she was,
how utterly
beautiful. Even when she'd been returned
to their
cell covered in her own blood and the sweat
and semen
of other men, she'd looked beautiful to him.
He wondered,
not for the first time, what it was that
she saw
when she looked at him. He was even more of a
freak now,
with his torn ear and cris-crossing burns
and scars
covering most of his torso and legs. He'd
even managed
to get an eyebrow singed completely off
somewhere
along the way. Marie still looked at him as
though he
were the most welcome sight she'd ever
beheld.
"It is all
right. Let me shut it off." They couldn't
afford to
keep the car warm when they weren't driving.
They could
stay here a bit - it was a secluded back
street,
and Hank doubted anyone would notice, much
less care,
that they'd parked here. "There." He
began wrapping
Marie up in one of their many blankets.
Thank God
for soup kitchens and Goodwill, Hank
thought.
She cuddled close to him, letting herself
cry it out.
Hopefully, she would tire herself enough
to sleep.
Hank could tell she did need rest - her
body almost
melted itself into his.
"Talk to
me," she pled, in a whisper. It was a
familiar
request. She'd asked on one of the first
nights they'd
brought her back, before she'd absorbed
Sabretooth
and when her wounds were often reopened
before they
ever came close to healing. She'd crawled
to an also-wounded
Hank, settled into his arms, and
asked that
first time. Each time, his words were
similar,
but they always comforted her.
"I love
you, Marie, very much. You are so brave, and
so very
precious to me. You are the mother of my son,
and the
love of my life. I will always cherish you.
You will
always be safe in my arms. I shall never
hurt you.
I shall never leave you. I will always be
here to
comfort you and love you, all the days of my
life." Those
last words held a little hope now; they
weren't
quite the dark promise they once had been.
"We will
survive. We will get through this, my love."
"Love you
too," she struggled out, giving herself up
to her exhaustion.
Jean wasn't
ready for the sight that greeted her at
the door,
not on any level. She wasn't ready to see
Scott's
arm wrapped around Ororo, wasn't ready to see
him without
his visor, wasn't ready to see Ororo so
horribly
disfigured. She was fairly sure her surprise
and shock
showed, and she found herself wishing Scott
had said
something over the phone to prepare her.
"Hello,"
she finally managed. "Please - please come
in."
Judging
from her quick backward glance at Logan, he
was equally
taken aback. Ororo guided Scott into the
doorway
and followed Jean's gesture toward the
kitchen.
No one spoke until they all sat down at the
table. Jean
looked to Logan, not quite knowing where
to start.
He just looked scared. Terrified, in fact.
Jean didn't
need to use her gift to know what he was
thinking
- had something like this happened to Marie?
She decided
she would try to begin.
"Can I offer
you something to drink? We have coffee,
and - and
water."
"Water would
be very nice, thank you," Ororo answered
a little
unsteadily. Jean rose to get her some.
"Scott?"
"Water is
fine." He laid a hand on Ororo's leg, a
gesture
not unnoticed by either of the room's other
two occupants.
"How have you both been?"
"What all
do you know about Rogue?" Scott smirked.
He suspected
that Logan had just given him his answer,
to a lot
of questions.
"Did Jean
tell you about Vermont?"
"Yeah. She
was in a camp there." Scott couldn't see
it, but
Logan was fidgeting a little, and his body was
coiled with
tension.
"She - she
and Hank tried to escape, about seven
months ago,
as closely as I can figure. It was a
month or
six weeks after that, that they closed the
camp."
"Where'd
she go from there?"
"Logan,"
Scott began, in a not-quite-hostile tone, "if
I knew where
she was, I'd be there instead of here.
They tried
to escape. That's where the trail ends.
'Ro and
I, we've tried everything to find them. The
rumors are
that - " Scott abruptly cut himself off
and Storm
looked to him with concern.
"What? What're
the rumors?" When Scott remained
silent,
Logan leaned across the table. "Dammit,
Summers,
if ya don't tell me what you know, I'll get
it outta
ya," he growled.
"Logan!"
Jean admonished. Scott waved her off.
"What are
you planning to do, hmm? Steal my wife?
Abandon
your friends in their greatest hour of need?
Ignore your
promise to protect Rogue? Make me watch
her suffer?
Torture me?" Scott said harshly, and it
did give
Logan a moment of pause. Scott continued, in
a softer
tone. "I don't know what happened, exactly.
Some of
the other mutants that were still alive when
the camp
was freed said that they'd gotten away. The
official
records said that both Rogue and Hank were
found and
shot dead about a mile from the camp
grounds.
'Ro and I went to the scene. We didn't find
- 'Ro didn't
find any evidence of a fight or of anyone
being wounded
anywhere in the vicinity. Logan, think
about it.
Hank's a genius. If they got away, he
covered
their tracks. We're not going to find them,
not until
they want to be found."
"Do you
think they might come here? Do you think they
might hear
about Xavier's being reopened?"
"If they
are in the east, yes," Ororo responded to
Jean's question.
"The word has spread throughout the
mutant population
here. If they have headed west or
have crossed
one of the borders, perhaps not."
"I'm goin'
out to look for her. Where was this place
in Vermont?"
"Logan,"
Scott leaned across the table to address him,
"have you
thought that maybe she doesn't want to be
found, and
especially not by you?"
"Fuck off,
I'll find it myself." Logan pushed back
from the
table, toppling his chair in the process.
"She used
to call out for you at first, you know,"
Scott called
after him, stopping him in his tracks.
"The first
few times they raped her, beat her,
tortured
her, we could hear her calling your name.
Mostly only
when it got really bad, mostly only when
she was
half-crazy with pain. She stopped calling for
you after
those first few times, Logan, even when it
was horrible.
You left her, and she knows that. She
knows it
deep in her soul now. She knows you left her
to that,
and I can't imagine why she'd give a damn
about you.
If she's with Hank, he'll protect her as
best he
can. She doesn't need you now. If you go
after her,
it'd be only because you're a selfish
bastard
who doesn't want to live with his own
well-earned
guilty conscience." Scott was seething
from the
recalled memories of those first few weeks
that they
were all together. "Let her go. If she's
still out
there and alive, she doesn't deserve being
forced to
deal with you. She's had enough forced on
her, don't
you think?"
"Fuck you,"
Logan said, but with no fervor in the
words. He
stomped out of the kitchen, but Ororo
noticed
that he was headed for the staircase, not the
door. Perhaps
Scott's words had had some effect.
"He never
changes," Scott mused. Just as he finished
saying the
words, he heard a muffled gasp from
somewhere
beside him. "Jean?"
Ororo looked
over to see her former best friend in
tears, holding
her hand to her mouth to try to stifle
her sobs.
Her eyes were wide, and red. "She's
crying,
Scott."
Scott almost
apologized for his words. He didn't want
to cause
Jean any unnecessary pain, but he wasn't
going to
apologize for the truth either. Even if
Logan's
heart had apparently turned toward Marie, and
Jean's toward
him, Scott's own heart remained
unchanged.
It was with Ororo, and now, it would
always be.
He couldn't imagine anything that would be
a stronger
bond than surviving what they had been
through
together. Certainly, his long-dishonored
marriage
vows weren't. Jean was his wife in name only
now, and
while he might hope to remain on civil terms
with her,
he had no desire to go out of his way at all
to comfort
her. "I was hoping we could stay here for
a while."
The words came out in an even tone. "This
house -
Xavier left it to both of us, you and I,
Jean."
"Of - of
course," she sobbed, trying to pull herself
together
a bit. "Please, I would be happy if you
would stay."
Scott nodded at that, and Ororo rose to
lead him
away from the kitchen.
Marie awoke
to the familiar and comforting feel of
Hank's soft
fur. She'd slept well, and woke up
rested,
and in much better spirits. Hank was still
slumbering,
but her son, Jules, was awake and
squirming
a little on the seat next to Hank. The
child had
recently discovered the joy of playing with
his own
toes, and Marie indulged herself, watching him
for a few
moments before disengaging from Hank to get
the child.
Hank woke
when she moved, as he always did. When
anyone had
approached their cell in the camp, Hank
knew it,
and alerted her. When she woke from
nightmares,
Hank knew it, and comforted her. She
didn't know
how she would've ever made it through this
without
Hank. He was her rock and she loved him with
a breadth
and depth that only Jules ever came close
to.
"Did you
sleep well, my love?"
"Yes. And
so did Jules, I think." Marie was slowly
gaining
confidence in her ability to parent. Not
being able
to breast feed had been a blow, making her
feel somehow
fundamentally inadequate as a mother.
Hank talked
her around, letting her know that breast
feeding
was one small part of the care she would
provide
for Jules over a lifetime. "Do we have
formula?"
Hank nodded,
untangling himself from the blankets.
"I'll get
it." They kept it in the trunk, warming it
with their
body heat in preparation of a meal. Hank
opened the
door, causing a rush of cold air to invade
their little
sanctuary. Jules frowned and let out an
experimental
cry. Marie held him closer in reply,
shielding
him from the breeze.
Jules looked
into her eyes, suddenly fascinated by his
mother's
face. His big brown eyes were the only
visible
characteristic he'd inherited from Marie, and
she delighted
in that resemblance. "How's my
beautiful
baby boy today?"
"Gooo!"
"Yes, I'm
glad you're having a good day." Jules was
beginning
to mirror her wide smile. "We're going to
feed you
and change you and then we're going to go for
a drive.
You can cuddle up with Daddy in the back. I
know you
like that." She heard the trunk shut,
heralding
the imminent return of Hank. "Here he
comes..."
"Brr!" Hank
greeted. "It's snowing quite a bit. We
may be delayed
some."
"That's
OK. There's - there's not really a hurry."
She watched
as Hank held the can of formula to his
chest and
wrapped his shirt around it to warm it.
They had
two bottles now, and there was still one
clean one
in the car. They had accumulated a lot of
things,
Marie thought. Most they'd come by through
charity,
and Marie was glad of that. They had very
little money
and what they did have had to go for gas
for the
car. For two people who'd left the camp with
only the
shredded remnants of their clothing on their
backs, they'd
managed very well, Marie thought. She
credited
their survival to Hank. She didn't doubt
that without
his genius and determination, they'd have
perished
in their escape attempt. "You know, we're
doing OK,
I think."
Hank smiled
at that. "We are. And it will get
better.
We will be able to stay in Westchester if
indeed Scott
has made it back there." Hank knew well
the odds
were against that, but he also thought that
if anyone
could manage it, blind and without powers,
it would
be Scott. Especially if Ororo were still
alive to
help him.
"I bet he
has," Marie encouraged, shifting Jules a
little.
"I'll be so happy to see him again."
"Perhaps
then we can get more food for you, and more
money,"
Hank opined.
"Everything
I need, I have right here. All I ever
prayed for
was for us to have a healthy baby, and for
it to be
yours. We have that, and a lot more
besides."
Hank bent to kiss her forehead. "Is it
ready?"
Hank removed
the can of formula, shaking it a little
to even
out its temperature. "I believe so." He
prepared
the bottle for Jules, watching as Marie cooed
and caressed
him. "Here you go."
Marie gently
nudged the nipple into Jules' mouth.
After a
few push-backs with his tongue, he settled it
in his mouth
and began suckling. "There," Marie
cooed. She
felt Hank's arm around her, pulling her
back to
rest against him. She loved it when he held
them both
like this, and she suspected he did too.
"He was
hungry," Marie commented.
"He is such
a happy child."
"And beautiful."
That got a soft chuckle from Hank.
Jules' eyes
found Marie's over the rim of the bottle,
and he momentarily
stopped suckling to smile at her.
"That's
right, you're very beautiful. Or should I say
handsome?
You're going to grow up to be as handsome
as your
Dad one day. You know, I was hoping you'd
turn out
just like this. You're a perfect little
guy."
Hank gently
nuzzled her neck and tightened his hold on
her. "He
turned out so well because he had a
wonderful
mother." Hank remembered the night they
decided
to try to escape. Mutation suppressing
experiments
on Marie had begun, which they both knew
could endanger
Jules, especially in the early,
formative
stages of Marie's pregnancy. The beatings
weren't
getting any better, and those, coupled with
the rapes,
also endangered Jules. The last straw,
though,
was that Marie had begun trying to appease her
rapists,
trying to avoid particularly harsh treatment
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