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| We Don't Say Goodbye; 5/24 Early Early (Jean, Calvin and Hope) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 26 2014, 12:08 AM (313 Views) | |
| Jean Grey | Mar 26 2014, 12:08 AM Post #1 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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“You’re still sure about this, Mom?” It wasn’t the first time Rachel had asked that on their way down to this door this early in the morning. Not even the fifth, but there was something drawn and taut and tired in the adult woman who was - in some not quite defineable way - still most definitely her daughter that kept Jean’ s urge to smile in check. “Still sure,” she said again, simply and seriously as she’d been the first time, then reached out tentatively to Rachel’s shoulder to draw her daughter to a gentle halt. “Rachel - are you alright?” She wasn’t, that was very obvious, even compared to the slightly haggard look that had been in her eyes when she’d appeared in their room late in the night, taking Scott away for a quick conversation outside that had led to both their minds disappearing for a short space of time. Scott had slipped back in shortly afterward, closed off in facial expression and in his mind like he got at times when there were things he thought he had to deal with without letting her be part of them. Jean had tried not to pry then, trying to limit her curiosity to the few snatches that had welled up over the bond before he’d managed to suppress them all, and she was trying to do the same now, keeping her mind well away from Rachel’s thoughts, and letting a concerned gaze and the light touch try to do the same work. “I’ll be okay,” the younger woman told her, meeting her eyes with a quick, tired-looking smile that was genuine, yet somehow still managing to close herself off from questions just as effectively as her father ever had. “Just some things that need working through.” “You sound like Scott,” Jean told her, and that, at least, raised half a wry smile on her daughter’s face. “Do I?” Something about her expression suggested that maybe Rachel didn’t quite know what to make of that, at least for a second, but she smiled more genuinely the next moment, and squeezed Jean’s arm in turn. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got people. I’ll get there,” she said, before turning serious again. “You’re-” “-still sure, yes,” Jean finished for her. “But first-” and while Rachel shot her a puzzled look, she shook her hair out over her shoulders again, glancing sideways at the green - though currently well-conditioned - strands. “Can you do one thing for me?” she asked. “I’d... like to do this as me. As Red.” Rachel nodded silently, lifting her hand quickly to the side of Jean’s head, and just like that, with no more effort or force than a whisper of breeze, the hair that the telepath could make out in her peripheral vision was back as it should have been. Squeezing her daughter’s hand with a murmur of wordless thanks, Jean nodded once to herself, breathed in deeply (trying not to think about why it felt like she needed to), and made her way the last few yards down to the door. She paused there, hand half-raised to knock before it faltered, then forcing herself to complete the action anyway. *Hello?* she sent across the door, trying to reach to his mind and hold herself back from doing that both at once. *It’s... Me,* she said, when she couldn’t think of any better word to put there, or whether or not she should have let herself admit that it didn’t feel like there needed to be one at all. *Can I...?* Can I come in? But the words were being stubborn, and refusing to finish themselves like they should have. |
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| Mimic | Mar 28 2014, 01:23 AM Post #2 |
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One Man X-Team
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Alright. He was dressed. More importantly, Hope was dressed. And fed. And... Fuck, was he forgetting something? He felt like he was forgetting something. Wings rustling behind him in restless annoyance, Calvin peered around the room, trying to remember what the hell he was forgetting. Probably something fucking important. What the hell was he even thinking, telling everybody else to take off, he'd be fine? Obviously, that'd been a crock of shit and now he'd forgot something important and he couldn't even remember what it was he forgot- A pat on his leg - which was covered in a stealth suit that was supposed to be black but somehow had ended up looking like that damned orange and blue suit he'd worn back before he had any brains at all and he still didn't have a damned clue how that'd happened, but at least it wasn't fucking paisley - had that thought snapping off at a weak spot and Calvin turned his attention downward. To his daughter. Who, by some fucking miracle hadn't turned out to be a figment of his imagination like he'd half expected. Hope was looking up at him with expectant blue eyes and trying to balance on one leg while she held onto him and held out the opposite foot. So goddamned cute it just about melted him into a puddle. "Shoooooes," she told him, pointing down at her sock-clad foot with one little index finger while she tried to hold onto her bear under her arm at the same time. And he damned near facepalmed. Yeah. Shoes. "Yeah, right. Shoes. Shoes're coming right up." Leaning down, he scooped her up and tried to remember where the hell he'd put the shoes Rachel left. Bedroom. He'd check there. Seemed like the place for shoes, anyway. Goddamn it, he needed to calm the hell down. He was being an idiot. Worse than an idiot, because they could at least usually find a pair of shoes. Which he finally did, peeking out from under the edge of the bed. Little dark blue shoes to match the little dark blue jumper with the white shirt with the frilly collar and sleeves and the white tights that Hope was wearing. Little blue and white bow in her hair. Cutest kid in the world. Had to be. Or maybe that was just him, but Mimic was pretty sure Hope was in at least the top five as he bent down again and picked up the shoes, realizing at the same time that there was somebody outside the door. Two somebody's that he recognized and he went completely still for a second. Froze right there in place, even though he'd known- Yeah, he'd known this was happening. Or thought it was. Hadn't been sure she'd go through with it, but there she was, right on the other side of the door. Her and Rachel. Shit, he hoped he could do this. Do it the way they needed to, for Hope. "I'll do it," his daughter informed him, reaching over and grabbing one shoe from him before he knew what was happening and giggling as she shoved her bear right at his face. "Hold Bear." It was more order than request, so he kinda grabbed it with the hand holding the other shoe and not holding Hope. "Don't drop her," Hope told him, issuing her second order with a very serious face, just before she started trying to reach her left foot to shove it in her right shoe. "Hey, hang on-" he got half out, then had to grab her around the waist to keep her from spilling over onto the floor on her head. And he should probably get his ass back into the other room, because he shouldn't leave her fucking standing out there in the hall. Calvin got halfway to doing that, made it as far as the middle of the room with a shoe and a bear in one hand and a giggling Hope half-under the other arm, taking swipes at stuffing her shoe on the wrong foot, and there was a knock and an achingly familiar voice popped into his head. *Hello?* and fuck if he could even manage to answer that. Just stood there like an idiot, staring at the door. Felt her hesitate. Hesitated himself and didn't know what the fuck to do. *It’s... Me,* she said, even though she didn't have to. Never did. He'd have known her anywhere, just from the way she 'felt'. Hell'vua thing, when that was a new thing, sure as hell not something they'd been able to do before, but didn't change the truth of it. He knew her, would always know her. *Can I...?* And shit, he was still standing in the middle of the room, staring at the fucking door like an idiot. *Yeah. Yeah, sure. Sorry,* he managed, realized he didn't have any more free hands when he got about two feet from the door. Flailed around a couple of extra seconds before he remembered the damned TK and used that to swing the door open. "C'mon in," Calvin managed out loud as the door opened. She was standing right there. Not with that damned green hair now, but red. Like it should be. Mimic managed to step back enough to let her in. "We were just-" the winged man started, but didn't get far as a little voice spoke up brightly from under his arm. "Hi!" Hope said, smiling and holding out her shoe to..fuck, to her mother. That was the only damned way he could think of it. Because that's what she was. "Fucker found my shoes." "...yeah, looking for her shoes," Calvin finished pretty damned fucking lamely, but right now it was about the best he could manage. |
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| Jean Grey | Mar 31 2014, 06:35 PM Post #3 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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It was him. Jean still couldn’t have said how she knew that - or rather, why the knowledge of it, the presence of his mind in the astral plane should feel like it did: the warm glow of a familiar candle in darkness. How, when the only times she could remember touching his mind were as herself, could it still feel that way, still send her fluttering toward, only to halt, draw herself back, only to flutter back closer again? It was him. And it was…her. Me, she said in the end, feeling all at the same time that it shouldn’t probably mean anything to Calvin, and knowing that even that was as unnecessary as if he’d said the same. It was him, and it was her, and… maybe she should just stop thinking about what should or shouldn’t or ought to oughtn’t about that, and just let it be, huh? She owed that much to today, to… all sorts of people, to try that. Can I…? He knew what she meant there too, though perhaps that wasn’t so very remarkable, given that she knew he could feel where she was, just on the other side of the door, and what else could she possibly be asking? But there was a moment of silence in his mind all the same, and without thinking about it, Jean put her hand on the doorframe, steadying herself. Would he have changed his mind, since last night? Could she have found the resolve to honor that, if he had, to get this close and then turn and leave, when she could feel the other mind there in the room with him, bright and determined and every- *Yeah. Yeah, sure. Sorry,* he said, and then there was another pause, a sense of movement, and then, finally, the door slid open, and he was there, not two steps away, orange and blue but looking less like the camp than as if he’d reached back into all the way into the past like they could go in there and make things different. “C’mon in,” he said, but Jean couldn’t seem to find a way to make herself from where she was, fingers tightly clasping to the edge of the doorway, standing in Lorna’s purple and green, but with her own hair and her own utter muteness as she looked back into the room. He was there, so close, and… - oh lord. In his arms. She was in his arms, dressed up as though for a party in what could almost have been a miniature replica of what Jean remembered wearing on her very first day at the Xavier Institute (Rachel, that had to be. That could only have been Rachel, to have found that memory from somewhere, and made it happen). The skirt, the sweater, the stockings - Jean took in all of those carefully, because if she thought too quickly about what really mattered, she was going to… Jean swallowed back all those tears that something deep in some dark recess of her brain was threatening, refusing to let them near her eyes for fear they’d never stop again if she didn’t, and made herself look properly, beyond the clothing. And… … and she was beautiful. And she was smiling. Oh god. A gentle nudge at her back from something as insubstantial as a breath of wind finally had her taking a semi-involuntary step into the room, and as soon as she had, Jean felt the same breath of nothing shut the door gently but with definiteness behind her. Rachel - one last brush across her mind, and it was almost easy to breath again for just a moment, but it was gone as Calvin stepped backward. ”We were just-“ he began, but then she spoke. Hope. Hope spoke. “Hi!” and there was one tiny, perfect little smile that was turned up toward her, impossible as it still seemed to everything in her mind that was still trying to fight for control of her tear ducts. But - no, she couldn’t do that to this little girl, who was smiling and holding out one little blue shoe. “Fucker found my shoes.” Fff- Fucker? “…yeah, looking for her shoes,” Calvin finished awkwardly, before Jean had had time to do more than start a doubletake at the very last word she’d expected (though maybe it shouldn’t have been). Of course, he could have waited half a minute or more and she still wouldn’t have had time to assemble her thoughts properly, not with her daughter there, impossibly alive, impossibly happy and with her father, but his intercession made something chink forward in Jean’s brain, and she found her voice once more. “They’re…” hesitating, swallowing again but trying not to do it too obviously, trying not to do anything that might scare that happy smile away from Hope’s face, and then finding a real smile from somewhere after all the fell back on to her face as she finished that thought, “…very pretty shoes, Hope.” Jean stepped in a little closer, one hand going automatically to lightly rest against Calvin’s upper arm as she carefully lifted the other up to Hope, slowly reaching for the shoe the little girl had proffered toward her. “Would you like me to help you with putting them on?” Shoes. She could do shoes, she thought. After all, she was Jean Grey. Shoes, she knew. |
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| Mimic | Apr 2 2014, 10:22 PM Post #4 |
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One Man X-Team
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His damned heart or some other vital organ stuck itself firmly in his throat as that door swung open. She was right there. Not the colors he remembered. The uniform, that was. More something Polaris would've picked out, but the hair. That was right again. The same red he kept seeing on her, even when it'd been that godawful green. Let her in, dumbass, some part of his brain that still had some damned sense left in it told him and he stepped back, told her to come in. Gave her room to do that, but she just stood there still. Looking at him and holding onto the door frame. Looking at Hope, still tucked under his arm and holding her shoe. Had she changed her mind? Hell, maybe she had. Got a look at all this and decided it wasn't something she could do, even for the little girl that he couldn't help thinking of as as much hers as she'd ever be his. Didn't think he'd blame her if she had. If she just couldn't stand it. Hell, didn't know if he could himself. He'd fucking fake it, though, if that's what it took. Already resolved to do that - for Hope and for her - but he'd worried from the time Rachel mentioned it that it might be too much for her. She'd already been through so damned much these last couple of days. Even for Hope, Calvin wasn't sure they had any right to ask her for more, whatever Rachel said. Especially this. Caught the way she was looking at that impossible, miraculous, smiling little girl. Knew how that felt and still didn't know what the hell to do about it. What to say to her. If he could say a damned thing for whatever that was lodged in the middle of his windpipe that didn't seem to want to let any words out. Then something - the bare hint of something - gave her a nudge and she stepped in the room, door swinging closed behind her. He sure as hell hadn't done that, but it didn't even take knowing the 'feel' of that mind that had to know who it'd been. Finally managed to say something to her. Or start to say something, but Hope beat him to it, holding out her little shoe and smiling and telling her...well, her mother. Whatever universe she was from, whatever her last name might or might not be now, whoever she'd been when she came here, she was Hope's mother, too. Happy little voice telling her mother just what they'd been up to and what the hell could he add to that? Nothing much but the lameass ending to that sentence he'd started. Just about started to smile as Jean did a doubletake. Yeah, he'd probably need to explain that. Might as well get used to it, since it seemed to have took and Hope sure as hell wasn't letting go of it. “They’re…” Jean hesitated and Calvin wondered again how the hell they'd thought they'd ever get through this. Wanted to...fuck, do something. Reach out to her. Scoop her up like he'd scooped up Hope. Knew he was an idiot for even thinking about it. Then she smiled. Somehow, she managed to find an honest to god smile, like she did this every day, “…very pretty shoes, Hope.” A step closer and her hand went to his arm. Casual, like she'd done it a thousand times. Feather light but Calvin was so damned aware of something that was barely a touch at all that it might as well have been a brand. Felt like he couldn't move if he wanted to for a second or two, then reminded himself to stop being a dumbass again. Probably oughta get used to doing that on a regular damned basis, he suspected. “Would you like me to help you with putting them on?” Jean asked their daughter (and Mimic swallowed down whatever the hell was stuck in his throat because that was getting annoying as hell), lifting her free hand up toward the she Hope was holding out. "Okay!" the little girl said brightly, still smiling as she plopped the shoe into Jean's hand and started wriggling around trying to get out of his grasp. Smiled almost despite himself as he shook his head and told his daughter, "Hey, hang on," and set her down on her little stocking feet before she really did manage to fall on her head. She grabbed onto his leg for balance again, sticking one tight covered foot out at Jean this time, like she'd done to him a few minutes ago. "I got socks," she informed her mother proudly. "Tights," Calvin corrected, only to have his daughter turn her head up toward him with slightly narrowed blue eyes and shake her head. "Socks," she told him firmly and a little stubbornly and jesus, he couldn't help chuckling at that. She came by it pretty damned honest, at least. From both sides. "Alright, fine. Socks," he gave in, lifting his head and half-smiling at Jean and shrugging his shoulders. "What the hell do I know?" Right now, not too damned much. But then that wasn't exactly new territory, at least. |
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| Jean Grey | Apr 3 2014, 09:28 PM Post #5 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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She was so, so, very beautiful. They’d… …well, they’d something very, very stupid, but with her hand resting on Calvin’s arm (she wasn’t going to let herself think about what she was doing, doing that), and their daughter smiling back at her, alive and happy, for a little moment there was a knot of something in Jean’s stomach that eased away. There was Hope, tucked up at her father’s side, and she was smiling. That could be the only thing that mattered for a little while. She could manage that being the only part of this that mattered for a little while, Jean thought. Well, that and the shoe that her daughter was holding out to her. Very pretty shoes - Jean found her voice to say that much, and found a smile for the little girl too, which wasn’t difficult at all, as long as you carefully put the other things that could have competed far far away from the parts of your mind that you were using in this moment. Hope was holding out one of too. To her. Would she… would she like some help putting them on? “Okay!” said the little girl, and before Jean had even had time for second thoughts, or almost any kind of thought or feeling at all, the shoe had been plunked into her hand and Hope was squirming and twisting impatiently under Calvin’s arm, clearly working under a different conception of how soon this should be starting than her father was. Jean smiled again, both for the sight itself and for the smile on the winged man’s face that he would have needed a much, much larger beard to have hidden. “Hey, hang on,” he told Hope, or tried to tell her, though it wasn’t precisely clear whether he was not being heard, or only not being listened to, and that smile said he probably didn’t care at all. Shaking his head like that wasn’t going to do it either, and no one who’d seen it on him could have- …well, perhaps she’d try not to finish thoughts like those. She could try that too. Focus on Hope, which was easy, and on shoes, and clothes, and all the things that were simple, and… just see how far that took her through this. And it wasn’t hard at all to give all - or nearlly all - of her focus and attention to her daughter, as she was gently set on the ground before she could dive there herself. Wrapping her arms around Calvin’s leg for balance - and lord, it almost seemed like she was barely tall enough to reach his thigh - and lifting one stockinged foot out in front of her, like the world’s smallest, most adorable ballet dancer. At least it was the most adorable thing she could ever remember seeing in her life, Jean Grey thought. In either of her lives. “I got socks.” “Tights,” Calvin corrected and got precisely what he deserved for introducing accuracy into Hope’s proud moment - a carefully narrow-eyed look, and a shake of a little red mop of hair (topped off by that little bow) to dismiss this pedantry. “Socks,” Hope insisted, in tones that Jean recognized as brooking no argument at all, mostly because she’d used them herself all too often. Dropping carefully down to crouch just in front of the little girl, Jean let the slight grin that had been fighting to appear on her lips have its way, then nodded back at her daughter. “Socks,” she agreed solemnly, abandoning Calvin to what was clearly a losing side of the argument, however right it might have been. “Alright, fine. Socks," he gave in, “What the hell do I know?” Jean looked up toward him, running into a smile on his face that met hers and had it broadening for a moment, then going still just as quickly. She… should only focus on Hope. Look away, Jean. Look away now. “Here,” she said quickly, putting her eyes back on the little girl and the foot she was waving a little more pointedly than before, clearly not particularly impressed with the amount of time adults took to do anything at all, and especially shoes, and carefully working the shoe itself open a little more. One hand to hold the tongue back, the other to steady Hope’s heel as she carefully pointed her toe and slipped into the shoe, then without thinking about it, Jean turned to TK to gently tug the laces tight and wrap them into a neat bow. “There,” she said. “How’s that, Hope?” “Okay,” said Hope, sounding like someone who was making an effort to be generous, before carefully adding a reminder that, “There are two.” Jean nodded, quickly as she could. “Right. Silly me. We should probably get your father to give the other one back now, huh?” she suggested, keeping her gaze carefully fixed on Hope, and only Hope, just as a precaution for keeping something like sense still ruling in her head, and watching her daughter nod back with perfect seriousness. “And Bear,” she declared. |
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| Mimic | Apr 5 2014, 08:58 AM Post #6 |
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One Man X-Team
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Well, excuse the hell outta him. Hope was giving him a look like she thought maybe he was just being dense on purpose. Damned if he didn't recognize that look, too. Had seen it on his own face more than a few times. Saw on her mother's at least a time or two. And what point was there in arguing? Not a damned bit, especially when he was outnumbered. Jean bent down just in front of Hope, grin on her face that was good to see. Real, and he'd still damned well know the difference he was pretty sure, as she nodded to that little girl that looked more than just a little like her. Had a fist reaching into his chest and squeezing so hard Calvin thought something might burst to realize that. His daughter. Jean's daughter. Didn't matter one damned bit that the woman there hadn't been the one to actually give birth to her, she was still just as much her mother in every way that counted. “Socks,” she agreed, just like he knew she would, leaving him on the losing end of that argument, facts be damned. Fine, then. Socks. If Hope wanted them to be socks and Jean said they were socks. They were socks. What the hell did he know anyway? She looked up at him, then. The woman that was his Jean, even if he knew she wasn't. But his was there, too, as the smile on her face got a little wider, meeting the one on his own face. Then froze there and, fuck. Just...fuck. Too damned easy to forget sometimes. Especially when part of him would like to do just that. Forget, for what time they had here, that she had another life in another whole dimension. Knew he was a dumbass for even thinking that way and Mimic gave himself a mental kick, looking around the room for some damned thing or other to focus on. “Here,” she said quickly, turning her own attention back to Hope. Yeah. Yeah, he should damned well do that, too. No point confusing her any more than she already was or putting her in the middle of his shit. Focused on his daughter and how she was balancing there on one foot as Jean worked on getting that little shoe on her foot better than he ever would've managed. Smiled and reached down with his free hand to run it over the little waves in the back of her hair while her mother got her shoe laced up and tied in a bow. “There,” she said. “How’s that, Hope?” “Okay,” said Hope, sounding like someone who was making an effort to be generous, before carefully adding a reminder that, “There are two.” Despite knowing he shouldn't encourage her, Calvin couldn't help a soft chuckle and shake of his head as Jean nodded right along to the pointed reminder. “Right. Silly me. We should probably get your father to give the other one back now, huh?” she suggested and he shifted the second shoe to his other hand, holding it down to his daughter as Hope nodded seriously. “And Bear,” she declared and he'd at least known that was coming. Other than when it'd got lost for a while last night, she hadn't let go of the thing since they gave it to her down in the infirmary. "Right here, safe and sound," Calvin told her, holding down Bear for her to take and tuck under her arm before she reached for the shoe. She took hold of it, but he held onto it gently, giving her an expectant look as she started tugging it away. "Remember what you're supposed to say when somebody does something nice for you?" the winged man asked her gently. Hope looked up at him, scrunched up her little face in thought for a second or two as he did his best to keep his eyes on her and not anywhere else, then brightened and smiled as she apparently remembered. Slipping the other shoe outta his hand, she turned back to Jean with a proud little smile and held it out to her, too. "Thank you for my shoe," she told her mother very seriously and carefully, "Please fix the other one?" "Work in progress," he told Jean with a half-smile, feeling awkward as hell for a few seconds before he looked back down at Hope fondly "but she's a smart girl. Picks things up fast." Didn't get that from him, that's for sure. Sure as hell hoped she didn't get it from his father. Last thing they needed was Hope running around, using her imagination on god knew what kinda chemistry experiments. Suspected, though, that she got that from her mom, the same as she got that smile straight from her. |
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| Jean Grey | Apr 6 2014, 06:41 PM Post #7 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Bear, huh? Well, maybe it wasn’t the most unusual name Jean had ever heard for a stuffed animal (though aside from what looked like an ewok’s outfit, it wasn’t entirely clear that the animal that had been tucked under Calvin’s arm actually was at all bear-like), but perhaps Hope had used up enough reserves of creativity in choosing a new name for her father already. He didn’t seem very surprised by that little extra demand, in any case, adding the so-called ‘Bear’ down for Hope to take, alongside her other shoe. “Right here, safe and sound.” In a very clear display of priorities, Hope secured Bear first, tucking the little green-suited animal under one arm, only reaching for the shoe after that was done. That one, though, her father didn’t give up quite so easily, holding on with a look that Jean had never, ever, in either of her memories, expected to see on Mimic’s face. It looked… right, though, in a way that made something catch in her throat till she managed to look away, only at Hope herself. “Remember what you're supposed to say when somebody does something nice for you?" the winged man asked her gently. Just watch her. Just her - and that was easy, effortless even, to watch with something that felt a little like marvel at the way the expressions came and went across her daughter’s small, serious face. Impatience, careful thought, and then all of a sudden something bright and happy seemed to dawn again, and Hope smiled in a way that made something that was sweet and painful all at once twist inside her chest. God… how had she ever thought she’d be able to do this? But Hope was claiming the shoe, and turning that smile right at her now, and she was already in the middle of it, so there was nothing to do but try to bury that sudden ache down as deeply as she could, and find a way to keep herself going. “Thank you for my shoe," [Hope told her] very seriously and carefully, "Please fix the other one?” Jean swallowed hard as she ducked her head into a quick nod, but she found her own smile again from somewhere. “You’re welcome,” she said, willing that tight band of something that was bound across her chest to ease off and give her room to breathe. A beautiful, happy, smiling girl. That was all that she needed to remember, and there, again, the tightness eased again, passing as she reached out to take this shoe from Hope. “It would be my pleasure.” “Work in progress,” said Calvin, and despite whatever resolutions she might have been making only a minute before, Jean paused for a moment, tiny shoe in hand, to look up to him, watching the look on his face as he looked at her - at his - at their daughter, “but she's a smart girl. Picks things up fast.” He didn’t say, Jean thought, lips twisting into something like a wry smile as she looked back at the shoe. “Like your new name?” “What’s your name?” Hope asked, as Jean moved to bring this shoe to meet the second little foot that was being held out for her. Which - oh. There was that band again, closing back around her ribs and squeezing tightly. “Please,” Hope added a moment later, sounding like she thought this must have to be the solution to why her shoe had stopped abruptly, still two inches from her foot. Christ, Red. Do better. For her, be better. It took another moment, a quick shake of her head though, before Jean could make herself move again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-“ she swallowed quickly, which almost moved that thing from the back of her throat, except didn’t really at all, “introduce myself, did I?” she finished, and willed herself to form a smile again, and to move her hands, and help Hope slide her foot into the shoe, then a little bit further, to tell her daughter, “My name is Jean.” Just Jean. That… well, just that. “I’m Hope.” Blue eyes, framed by red hair, but looking just like her father, when he wasn’t sure that something wasn’t about to blow up in his face if he moved wrong. Jean paused for a moment, hands not quite perfectly motionless where they’d stopped, still holding the bottom of the shoe, though Hope’s foot was all the way in. Shaking a little - but no. She willed them to stop, too, but that didn’t work as well as she wanted, nor would her tongue manage to form any words for a moment, “…I know,” she said finally, in a voice that felt about as small as she felt right now, for not being able to do better than this. |
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| Mimic | Apr 8 2014, 02:32 PM Post #8 |
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One Man X-Team
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Fuck. What the hell had he got himself into? What had he got all three of them into? Maybe that was the better question. Couldn't figure out where the hell to look. Couldn't figure out what the fuck to say. Felt like a damned idiot and still couldn't figure out how to stop floundering the fuck around and making it all even more damned awkward than it was. It was more than awkward enough, without him adding to it. Awkward and confusing and painful in a way he'd never imagined. For him, but more importantly for Jean and Calvin would've kicked his own ass if he could (hell, he probably had some fucking powers that'd let him do that, if he had time to figure it out) and he thought it'd help. Hope, at least she didn't seem to notice. Just chattered about her shoes and her bear, looking and acting and sounding so damned normal that it was still hard to believe. Sometimes, hell, he still couldn't and then it got hard to breathe for a little while. That wasn't what was going through his head right now, though, or the reason he kept feeling like all the damned air was going outta the room. Happened every time he looked at them. Hope and her mother. Like somebody'd reached in and snatched an image of the thing he wanted most right out of his head and brought it to life, right here in front of him. Jesus, how the fuck was he gonna do this? One minute at a time, Mimic told himself as he looked down at his daughter, not quite handing off that other shoe yet. Reminding her there was something she should be saying. Took her a minute and a run through everything from the kinda quick impatience that was way too damned familiar to thoughtful to smiling again as it all clicked. Then turned to her mother and thanked her with all the four year old solemn that she could muster and asked her to fix the other one. Saw Jean swallow hard and wanted to just stop and grab her up, pull her in. Had to stop himself from doing just that as she nodded, smiled again. “You’re welcome,” she said, reaching out to take the second shoe from Hope. “It would be my pleasure.” Managed to say something himself, even if it felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth for once. But he could manage to talk about Hope. They were working on things, here and there as he managed to remember they should be, and she was a smart little girl. Smarter than Calvin was sure he'd ever been at that age. She picked it all up so fast. She smiled a wry kinda smile as Jean turned her attention back to that shoe and he knew that smile, too. “Like your new name?” Oh jesus fuck. Calvin's own lips twitched and he rubbed at the back of his neck a little awkwardly. Yeah, she sure as hell hadn't missed that at all had she? "That's Forge's damned fault," he told her, pretty damned lamely. “What’s your name?” Hope asked, and shit. There was that knot in his throat again as dark eyes went back to Jean again, brain scrambling to try to figure out how the hell to answer that. If it could be answered the way it should be answered. The way he knew damned well he wanted to answer it. “Please,” Hope added, like that was gonna be the magic word that unfroze the both of them. He opened his mouth as Jean shook her head, then closed it again when he realized he didn't know what the hell was gonna come out of it. Probably not a damned thing that needed to right now and it didn't matter what the hell he thought he needed. This wasn't about him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-“ she faltered, swallowed again and fuck if he knew what the hell to do. Or what to do that wouldn't end up with him saying to hell with it and scooping them both up, “introduce myself, did I?” she finished, and managed to smile and get the other shoe on Hope's foot and Calvin felt his damned wings twitching behind him, just from the damned effort of keeping himself from doing something that might just make it all worse. “My name is Jean.” “I’m Hope.” It came out almost tentative, like Hope wasn't sure what to expect. Not too damned surprising when he was standing here being a useless fuck while his four year old daughter tried to figure it out and Jean's hand was shaking and- Fuck it. Just fuck it all. “…I know,” Jean said, voice small in a way he remembered way too damned well. Caught at him in a way that he couldn't have ignored even if he'd wanted to, and he sure as hell didn't want to. Yeah, fuck it. However the hell things were out there, on the other side've that door, in here it was them, and this was their daughter and that's all he really gave a damn about right now. That woman and that little girl. Crouching down with them, Calvin kept on hand on Hope's back. Keeping her steady. His other hand reached over for Jean's, wrapping around the one that'd been shaking. They'd tie the damned shoe later. "She's," your mother. The words were right there, as he looked over at the woman with red hair and green eyes, attention fixed on her. Couldn't quite get them out, though, despite giving it a damned good try. Hope was giving him a confused look now, no damned surprise there and he tried like hell to come up with something to finish that with. "She's-" he started again, seized on something that maybe wasn't exactly what he'd intended to say, but it was at least a lot damned closer, "Rachel's mom," he finished, and felt like a damned coward for it but it was a damned start at least and not way in fucking hell was Hope gonna go through this thinking her mother was just some stranger that'd stopped by. Hope looked from him to Jean and then back again, little brow scrunched up as she tried to figure it out. "Oh," she said after a couple of seconds, looking like she was still thinking that over. "Rachel's my sister," she informed Jean seriously, then her smile bounced right back as she lowered her foot and held out Bear. "She made me and Bear pajamas with ears." "Ewoks," Calvin added with a half-grin to Jean. "She made her Ewok pajamas." And he wished to god she could've seen it. That she could've been here for all of it, as much of it as she could manage. Wished he could make that happen somehow, since as much as Hope deserved whatever memories she could have of her mother, Jean deserved those memories of her daughter just the same. |
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| Jean Grey | Apr 10 2014, 08:35 PM Post #9 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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One moment. That was all it really took to go from something that had been crossed between a smirk and a sigh - of course it would have been the Asshat behind the fact that her daughter seemed to be determined to call her father that. Of course - to… this. Whatever this was, with its tight steel band around her chest, and the lump in her throat that wouldn’t move however she swallowed, and the way her tongue felt like lead and her hands like paper streamers fluttering in a breeze. She hadn’t introduced herself, had she? And her daughter… her daughter wanted to know her name, the name of the strange, red-headed trembling stranger who’d appeared and helped her with her shoes. Well, she could do that, at least. Tell Hope her name, introduce herself as Jean. Just Jean. No last name. She managed that. But when the little girl - the beautiful, suddenly uncertain little girl who wasn’t smiling anymore - volunteered her own name, that name, it all felt suddenly like more than she could ever have managed to do. To find words for. ”…I know,” was all Jean could say, and they were poor, little words, in a voice that felt like it had shrunk away to nothing. I named you. For everything that was lost for ever. For everything that should never have been allowed to be. For everything I couldn’t find a way to let go of, because I felt you living, growing, and I knew you, and I loved you. I- I… Oh god, how could she do this? And how could she let herself do this now, to Hope, frozen and shaking and unable to move a muscle? She had to… she had to… But until the large, warm hand closed around hers, there was nothing at all that Jean had found that she could do. When it did, warmth and still, solid strength seemed to flood back, up through her fingers as they moved and curled beneath his, twisting to slip around his and hold on tightly. Calvin. He was here - for Hope and for her, crouching down beside them with his other hand resting gently on their daughter’s back, and this one all for her. He was here. And with that, and with the warmth, and the presence that was his in her head, so close that she couldn’t have filtered out from her mind if she’d been trying, now that she was touching him, there was room to think, and room to breathe again. She didn’t fight that certainty, just kept the tight hold on his hand, and made herself take that long slow breath that could finally come. “She’s,” he started to say, then stopped, as Jean felt a stab of sudden rushing panic despite his closeness, and hand jerked tighter. She… god. She couldn’t. She… didn’t know if she could do that, yet. Be who Hope would need her to be, if she knew that. “She’s-“ he started again though, and faltered again, then found words that let Jean’s held breath come out in a quiet, careful rush of relief. "Rachel's mom.” Yes. She could be Rachel’s mom. Rachel, who seemed to have become every thing that she was without ever really needing the mother who’d died on her, then turned her back on her, and not done a thing to change that for far, far too long. Rachel, who was strong, and as indomitable as her father and her grandmother. She could be that - and it wasn’t everything that she needed to be, but it was a place to start from, at least. “Oh,” [Hope] said after a couple of seconds, having looked from her father to Jean, and back again, then at nothing in particular as she seemed to think that over. “Rachel’s my sister," she informed Jean seriously, and while the redhead nodded, squeezing gently on the hand that had wrapped around hers in a way that was far more relaxed once more, the little girl lowered her dangling foot back to the ground, and broke into that smile once again as she held her stuffed animal out for inspection. “She made me and Bear pajamas with ears.” There - she could feel her own smile returning, easier than she would have thought, like there was nothing that could have ever driven it away. “Did she?” Jean asked, finding that smile that was so easy to wear when it could see the one that had lit up her daughter’s face. “Ewoks,” Calvin added with a half-grin to Jean. "She made her Ewok pajamas.” Jean turned his way briefly, returning that smile - just for a moment, but this time nothing caught, or gave her pause, and it wasn’t for the sake of dispelling an awkward feeling that she turned quickly back to Hope, lifting her free hand to Bear, and brushing lightly over the little felted hood and the greens and brows of its little tunic. “Are these Bear’s Ewok pajamas? He looks very smart.” “She,” Hope corrected, in a voice that could have been her grandmother’s. “Bear is a She.” “Oh yes, of course. I see that now,” Jean agreed quickly, trying not to smile too much. “She looks very smart in her pajamas.” And Hope considered this for a moment, then nodded. Then looked to her father, expectantly at first, then fading through speculative to calculating all within the space of a few brief seconds. Then, without further ado, or words to announce her intentions (they really hadn’t been necessary), Hope thrust her Bear into Jean’s hand, and began to try to climb onto Calvin’s bent knee, stretching up toward his shoulder. |
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| Mimic | Apr 14 2014, 03:17 PM Post #10 |
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One Man X-Team
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Jesus fucking christ, what the hell had they got themselves into here? The fuck was he even thinking, letting her try to do that? Hell, letting him try to do this? Whatever Rachel said about making it work, it didn't stop his gut from twisting itself into a half dozen knots at least as he watched Jean's hand shake. Watched her falter for words while Hope stood there not knowing what the hell to do. Not that he knew, either, but he needed to do something all the same. Only damned thing he could think of to do. Crouch down and reach over, wrap his hand around Jean's. The one that was shaking. Felt hers curl tight around his in turn and he held onto that. Held onto her. Whoever they all had to go back to being when this was done, he knew who they were right here, right now. Knew that warm presence in his head he didn't even consider trying to block out because it damned well felt like it belonged there. Jean and Hope. The only two damned things that mattered, that Calvin would let matter, right now. Fuck the rest. For right now, it could go to hell while his daughter and her mother got the only time he knew they'd likely ever have together. Felt Jean relax a little. Managed to throw some've the tension out of his own back and shoulders, too. Right before he opened his mouth and did what he always did. Started talking before he started thinking, because he didn't want his daughter - their daughter - to come outta this remembering her mother as just some stranger that'd stopped by for a visit. Got started and then didn't know where the hell to go, because he couldn't push the words outta his mouth. Stab of panic and hell if he knew if it was his or Jean's or both, but he could see it in the eyes her eyes as her hand gripped his tighter. Knew the damned words he wanted, they were right there, but she wasn't ready for that. Fuck knew he wasn't, since he couldn't even get them out. Hope was looking more damned confused than she had a second ago and...dammit! Then something came to him, thank fuck. Not what he'd meant to say, not what he'd wanted to say, but something to maybe ease them into this thing that no damned body seemed to know what the hell to do with just yet. Rachel's mother. Hope would understand that she was Rachel's mother and that was something. There was that look from that little girl that still seemed like a damned miracle to him, even if it was a miracle he'd never have wanted her mother to pay that kinda price for. Considering, from him to Jean and then just thinking as the woman whose hand was still tight in his let out a breath. Relief, he felt that form her, too. Couldn't have not felt it and Calvin's hand tightened on hers. Jesus he wanted to just pull her over. Pull her close and just...hell, do something to make this all right. Somehow. Knew damned well there wasn't any way to do that, but still wanted it maybe more right now than he'd ever wanted anything in his whole, sorry ass life. But there was Hope again, processing all that and looking from one to the other one more time. Telling Jean that Rachel was her sister and how she'd made Bear those Ewok pajamas and tightening those knots in his gut a little more. “Did she?” Jean asked, smile coming back to her face. Not forced but easy as Hope nodded a serious confirmation. Because damned Ewoks and their pajamas were serious business. Ewoks of all damned things. Something else he wished Jean could've seen. That little girl in her Ewok pajamas her sister made her, running around and laughing and chattering. Curious and happy and, yeah. Fucking miracle. It was the only way to describe her. Jean turned that smile on him, then. Just for a second but it was enough. More than enough. Never forget that look, or that smile. “Are these Bear’s Ewok pajamas? He looks very smart.” And hell if he didn't know what was coming then. He'd got a dose of that last night. “She,” Hope corrected, all no nonsense and that had his smile turning more toward a damned grin. “Bear is a She.” “Oh yes, of course. I see that now,” Jean agreed quickly, trying not to smile too much even if Calvin himself wasn't bothering. “She looks very smart in her pajamas.” There was another one've those cute as hell considering looks before Hope. Then gave him a look that should've damned well had him running for the hills. Ah, hell, what was she-? Didn't get a chance to finish that thought before she was shoving Bear at Jean, scrambling up on his knee and already grabbing at his shoulder. Or what was over his shoulder. After his damned wings again. Shit! "Wait, Hope-" he started but she just giggled and gave him one've those looks again and scrambled more determinedly and Calvin automatically used his free hand to keep her from falling on her butt. When he should've been using it to fend her off, but he was a dumbass that way. Who the fuck knew a four year old could move that damned fast. "Hey, hang on," he started again, trying to get a damned grip on her but it was too damned late and she was using his leg as some kinda spring board to grab at the feathers over his shoulders. "We've talked about this," he insisted, trying to shuffle his wing back outta the way. That just got him more giggling and more determined grabbing and he was trying like hell not to laugh, since that'd just encourage her. And god knew she didn't need any've that. Hope practically climbed over his shoulder, hanging halfway off and still determined to get that hand full've feathers. And he was trying to keep them outta her damned reach and keep her from falling on her head or something and somewhere in there his balance just went all to shit, Hank McCoy's damned powers or not. "Don't-" Calvin started again, still trying to fend his giggling determined daughter off with one hand and holding onto Jean's hand with his other and apparently something had to give. That something was his damned ability to keep himself upright and he managed to get out an exclamation of, "Shit!" before he toppled over backwards. "Got them!" Hope announced, little hand wrapping around the nearest clump of feathers she could get and grinning over at her mother. Calvin sighed from his current position of being half-assed bodyslammed to the floor by a kid a fifth his size, then winced as Hope gave the handful of feathers in her possession a tug. "Yeah, I see that," he told her dryly, lifting one dark brow the little girls way. She just fucking giggled and grinned at him of course. "I'm gonna look like a damned plucked chicken before a year's up," Calvin added, looking over to Jean with a wry grin. But what the hell could he do? Then, with a speculative look that matched the one his daughter'd gave him a few seconds before, he gave his other hand, the one still holding onto Jean, a tug. Hell, might as well all be on the damned floor. They could all have a nervous breakdown just as damned well here as anywhere and it'd be easier to pick up the feathers he was sure as hell about to loose. |
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| Jean Grey | Apr 15 2014, 12:24 AM Post #11 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Now, just what was her daughter doing? Jean knew that look. Had worn that look herself, more times than she could remember (her parents had had plenty of stories about it). But though she’d never been able to turn it onto her very own Big Bird stand-in of a father, being able to see just what the little girl was planning right now had nothing at all to do with telepathy. All the same, she still only had just enough time to accept Bear from Hope’s not-quite wild thrust with her free hand before the little girl had let go of the stuffed animal entirely to put both hands into the task of attempting to use Calvin as a jungle gym. “Wait, Hope-“ he tried, but that request was futile, especially since it looked like he had his own free hand more than full just trying to support the precariously teetering balance she’d taken up on his knee, reaching for his shoulder. No… his wing. Oh… god, she was going for his feathers, wasn’t she? It probably wouldn’t be sporting (or maybe it would be too sporting, if you looked at it from another angle) to remind him about telekinesis, would it? No, Jean decided, and while he began a probably equally futile protest about hanging on, the telepath looked down at Bear in her free hand, sharing a look of sorts. Only for a moment though, because there was no way she was going to miss more than a moment of the sight of her daughter, clambering over her father, giggling and reaching for the wing that he so far seemed to have managed to swing back just beyond her reach. “We’ve talked about this,” he insisted. Jean entertained a brief thought about whether it might help him to have his other hand back to help in this epic struggle, but decided against it just as quickly. It was warm, and still holding hers every bit as tightly as she had held it. She didn’t want to let it go. So instead, she just watched, not bothering to hold back the light laughter that somehow had managed to find its way through everything. Hope, giggling, and determined, and happy - so, so happy as she stretched and reached out further and further toward the wings that Calvin was quickly running out of room to pull back away from her hand. “Don’t-“ he said, and “Shit!” and then, with a sudden tug on her hand that Jean only just managed to keep her own balance with (she, at least, wasn’t too proud to use TK to help with that), he toppled down onto his back. That left Hope - completely oblivious to any potential gravitational disaster she might just have caused - leaning forward a little more, and taking a very obviously secure grip on a handful of the feathers that were now all too easily in reach. “Got them!” Jean met her daughter’s smile with an equally broad one of her own, even chuckling outright until a quick tug from one tiny clenched fist had Calvin wincing. She turned to him, not quite sure of what to say - could she offer to try to distract Hope away? Or-? “Yeah, I see that,” he told Hope then, one eyebrow lifting as Hope giggled even more than before. “I’m gonna look like a damned plucked chicken before a year's up.” Maybe long before that, judging by the look on Hope’s face right now, but Calvin had turned her way, and for a moment when that happened, there was only room for him and the look on his face, and in his eyes. “You love it,” Jean told him, returning his smile with one of her own that was softer than perhaps she should have allowed herself to show, and not caring in the slightest. Oh… but no… no, what was he doing now, borrowing that look from Hope? Another tug on her hand, and this time Jean decided she didn’t care at all about telekinesis, or about shoulds, or about anything but giving in to going where she was pulled, falling in on her side, half along and half beside Calvin, head coming to rest near his shoulder and turning to where she could see Hope where she was perched on top of him. Their daughter was still smiling, though Jean couldn’t help but wince in sympathy as another, harder-looking tug had the little girl dropping back onto her butt on top of Calvin’s chest, proudly waving the small handful of feathers she’d claimed as her prize. For now though, the possibility that that might have hurt didn’t seem to have occurred to Hope, who was leaning forward, carefully inspecting her loot with all the seriousness of a four-year old girl with important business to make. One moment stretched out, then two, then Hope dropped all but one of her stolen feathers on top of them, taking hold of the shaft of the last in a purposeful fist and leaning forward. To tickle her father’s nose with his own feather. Up and down, and up and down in carefully delicate strokes went Hope (oh lord… oh, she should probably steady her with a little more TK, just in case of sneezing or other tickle-induced thrashing, shouldn’t she?), and then the little girl stopped, just as abruptly, and turned to face Jean, shuffling forward a little and extending the feather again. As it brushed down her own nose, Jean heard herself already starting to dissolve into helpless laughter, and decided… …and decided… …but there was no real decision after all. There was just here, and now, laughing and touching, Hope and Calvin. Right now, it was enough. Right now it was everything. |
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| Mimic | Apr 18 2014, 12:15 AM Post #12 |
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One Man X-Team
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Yeah. Obviously didn't matter one damned bit that they'd talked about this. Hope'd just been laying in wait for him to let his guard down, then she'd gone straight for the wings again. Protesting wasn't doing him any good, either. Not that Calvin was trying all that hard as he half-assed took a shot at fending off his very damned determined, giggling daughter. While Jeannie and that damned bear looked on and he kept trying to find new ways to move his wings outta reach of equally determined little hands. Look in that little girl's eyes that had him just about giving up and letting her do whatever the hell she wanted. Except having all his feathers yanked out one by one, or even a handful at a time, wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to. Too bad he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of doing anything other than toppling over backwards, which was exactly what he did, still holding onto Jean's hand and ending up with Hope half-sitting on his chest. And him and his wings a whole lot easier target than they'd been a second or two ago. Well, dammit. There went a few more feathers. Hope didn't have to announce she had them, he figured that out easy enough himself, but Calvin resigned himself to the loss of a few more. Hell, it was worth it to see Hope smile and Red over there smiling right back and laughing at his idiot ass. Lying there on the floor, defeated by a four year old. Though, hell, he'd been defeated by that little girl about five minutes after he'd laid eyes on her if he was honest about it. And she was too damned happy about getting what she was after that all he could do was wince as she gave those feathers a good jerk, giggling the whole while. Then turn to Jeannie and admit something else he'd already resigned himself to. If he didn't look like a damned plucked chicken inside a year, it'd be a fucking miracle. Couldn't say it without a smile, though. Couldn't look over at that woman with her hand still in his without one, either. “You love it,” Jean told him, smile on her face he'd have done anything to keep there, and he didn't try to deny that, either. She'd know it for a lie if he did so he didn't even bother. Just gave her a look he knew wouldn't be too far off the one their daughter had gave him then gave her hand a tug. Not too hard. Not hard enough she couldn't keep him from pulling her over if she wanted to. But, hell, might as well all be on the floor. Whatever shit they could do upright - laugh or smile or fall the hell apart - they could do just as well from down here. She didn't fight him, though. Just let him pull her over next to him as he let go of her hand, but just long enough to wrap an arm around her instead. Probably shouldn't, might just end up making it all that much harder in the end, but- Fuck should or shouldn't. Fuck everything but whatever the hell they wanted or needed to do right now. They'd damned well earned that. A few minutes of what they wanted. What they needed. And if they hadn't? Then Hope sure as hell deserved it at least. Deserved some memory of her parents as something besides two awkward people who didn't know what the hell to do or say to one another because of shouldn't or couldn't. Hope plopped down on his chest, holding her handful of feathers like some kinda award and Mimic let out a wry chuckle, shaking his head. Hell, if a few feathers made her that happy, he sure as hell couldn't begrudge her that. Even if they were his feathers. Damned things would grow back eventually. Calvin just lay there and watched her, that impossible little girl that was his and that was Jean's, as she studied those feathers with all the seriousness she could come up with. Looked them over like it was her job, then drooped all but one, leaned over, and just about stuffed the damned thing up his nose. The winged man snorted, nearly inhaled his own damned feather, sneezed, then started to laugh. How the hell could he do anything else? "Okay, okay!" he told her between chuckles. "I surrender." Jean had to be helping keep Hope from rolling off onto the floor. He sure as hell couldn't manage it himself while he was trying to not suck his own stolen feather up his nose. Guess his surrender got accepted since Hope turned her attention over to Jean. She got the same treatment. Attack by feather to the nose and hell she was nearly laughing before the feather even got there. She was laughing and Hope had a grin on her that would've made any crazy damned super-villain proud and Calvin burst out laughing himself. Then he reached up with his free hand and gave Hope's side a little tickle. She let out the cutest damned squeak he'd ever heard, probably would've fell off if he hadn't caught her, then brandished that feather at him like a sword, trying to ward him off or maybe just stuff it up his damned nose again. "Noooooo!" she protested, trying to narrow those little blue eyes at him but still giggling at the same time. "Not your turn," Hope informed him like he was an idiot for not knowing that, then made a dive back at Jean with the feather that had him laughing all over again. "Guess you're doomed, Red," he told her, giving the redhead under attack a little squeeze just because he fucking could. "Looks like I'm in time out." 'Course, he'd never been much for doing what anybody told him, so he just picked up another feather and ran it down Hope's cheek anyway. |
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| Jean Grey | Apr 20 2014, 05:52 PM Post #13 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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One thing, at least, didn’t seem to have changed. When Calvin smiled, when he tugged lightly to ask her to come to him, when he let go of her hand and folded her within the curve of one large warm arm, there was no room left for should or shouldn’t inside her head. Jean didn’t fight that, with her body or with her head, just tucked herself against him, giving herself the best view possible of the battle of Hope vs Wing Feathers. Probably unsurprisingly, their daughter ended up victorious, dropping back down onto Calvin’s chest with a stolen handful that hopefully hadn’t hurt him too much - he was chuckling at least, Jean could hear that much, while she kept her eyes fixed on Hope, greedy for every single momentary shift of expression that crossed the little girl’s face as she inspected her prizes, selected a favourite, then leaned over carefully and stuffed it toward Calvin’s nose. A snort erupted from the nose in question, then became a sneeze, before turning back into laughter that shook his chest, and Hope along with it. Jean reached instinctively with her powers to help keep the little girl steady on her chosen seat, grinning herself at the way Hope’s smile had mixed in with a perfect little mask of determination that mere seismic laugh tremors weren’t going to defeat. Sure enough, it was Calvin who caved first. ”Okay, okay!" he told her between chuckles. "I surrender.” All very well for him, for Hope stopped short, then turned her way, leading once more with the feather. Oh god… …oh god, she’d started laughing even before the feather made contact with her skin, but now that it had, there was nothing to do but try not to choke to death on her own laughter, while leaning a little more into Calvin and watching the smile grow and grow on Hope’s face. “No surrender!” Jean croaked defiantly, amid the chuckling, noticing as she did one large hand sneaking over toward Hope’s unprotected side. “Never!” Sure enough, it made its move, and Hope’s own attack was abruptly arrested with a tiny little “Eep!” that might well have been the most adorable sound that had ever been uttered in any universe. Awash in her own mess of giggling, Jean’s second attempt at TK stabilization went utterly awry, but there was Calvin, catching the little girl before she could fall, and earning himself another round of assault - or at least the threat of it - by self-feathering. “Noooooo!” she protested, with a warning glare that almost made it through her giggling. ”Not your turn.” And just like that, the feather was back in Jean’s face, the laughter which she hadn’t quite managed to get a hold of was back at full force, and none of it mattered, because her daughter was smiling, and Calvin’s arm squeezed her tighter, and for a little while, the world didn’t have to consist of anything more than those two facts. “Guess you're doomed, Red," he told her, "Looks like I'm in time out.” Jerkily, since she was fighting off her own urge to sneeze, Jean did her best to turn his way. “So gallant…” she croaked again, only to find him - in flagrant disobedience to his daughter’s instructions - running another feather down Hope’s cheek. Well then. Who said only two got to play at this game? Taking advantage of the brief respite from being attacked herself that was given to her when Hope started squirming and so throwing off her aim, Jean snuck another of the feathers the little girl had dropped on her father’s chest with TK, floating it stealthily over toward a ticklish spot she remembered on Calvin’s neck and launching her own attack. At the same time, as Hope’s attempts to get out of the way of being tickled herself only led to more squirming and shifting, culminating in a hasty dive out of the way of the feather. She came by in a little heap half rolling and half sliding off Calvin’s chest, away from the menace of the feather, all of which landed her right on top of Jean who didn’t waste time or thought in making a move of her own, wrapping her free arm around her daughter and pulling her tightly against her own chest. “Aha!” she declared triumphantly, still hugging Hope close, without thinking about whether or not that had been the right thing to do, or about anything at all but how much she wanted to do that, “Got you now, Baby.” |
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| Mimic | Apr 22 2014, 08:49 PM Post #14 |
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One Man X-Team
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Yeah, hell, he surrendered. He was fighting a losing battle anyway and Calvin knew it. Might as well just admit it. And let Hope pick her next target. Didn't take her very damned long to do that and Jean was laughing before their daughter even made contact with that feather. Damned well holding out better than he'd been, too, but that wasn't any surprise, was it? “No surrender!” Jean croaked defiantly, amid the chuckling, as he decided he might as well try launching a sneak attack of his own. Yeah, he'd surrendered, but why the hell would he start playing by the rules now? He never had before. “Never!” Their daughter was squealing and giggling and maybe about to break his sternum - and he didn't much give a damn if she did - and her mother was laughing and he was laughing and...Jesus. He'd had dreams like this, awake and asleep. Pictures in his head when there hadn't been anything else worth having in there. Never thought he'd see it. That he'd lie here on the floor in possibly the most godawful damned position ever for somebody with big ass wings and watch this. Be fucking part of it. Tighten his arm around Jean a little as she rolled in closer, still laughing. Try not to laugh his ass off as Hope tried to glare at him because it wasn't his turn yet. Watch her re-launch that attack that had him telling Red she was doomed, since Hope'd put him in his place. “So gallant…” she croaked again and he just grinned and said fuck it and ran another of his lost feathers down that little girl's cheek. Watched he squirm and giggled and try to fend him off. Stubborn as he ever was, trying to still go at her mother with the feather she was holding herself and now Jean had one, too, floating it over to join... Wait, what the hell? Shit, how the hell did she even remember that? "What-shit!" was all the winged man managed to get out as that feather, or Jean, found that ticklish spot on his neck and then he was trying to get the hell away without really moving. That didn't work worth a damn, and no surprise there, so he settled for hopefully not flinging Hope off as he tried...fuck, who the hell knew? Maybe figure out a new way to move his neck so he could stop laughing long enough to at least breathe. Hope was sure as hell abandoning ship, taking a half-dive off his chest before Calvin could even think about trying to stop her. Nothing to worry about, though, because her mother was right there to catch her. Made him wish that was something she'd always have. They'd both always have, but Mimic shoved that shit outta his head again. Wouldn't do him or Hope or Jean any damned good to start down that road of what ifs and if onlys. Hope had it right here, right now. So did Jean. So did he. That was already a whole fucking lot more than he'd ever thought he'd get. The price had been too damned high to waste any of it. The rest've the shit - the whole damned mixed up mess that it was - it could damned well wait. “Aha!” [Jean] declared triumphantly, wrapping her arm around that little girl that looked so damned much like her it took his breath and any words or thoughts he'd had and knocked them right outta him, “Got you now, Baby.” There was some more giggling from Hope, a little squirming, then little arms wrapped right back around her mother just as tight as she could. "Nuh-uh," she protested between those giggles and sounding as smug as he figured a four year old could manage as she clung to Jean like a burr, "I got you now." Well, hell, she had a point. Since he had a free arm, mostly, Calvin slung it over both of them, brows lifting up. "And what if I've got you both?" he asked, and got a narrow eyed, scrutinizing look from his daughter as she looked from him to Jean and back again, considering that. Hell, he could see the wheels turning behind those eyes as she tried to figure out how to get on top of that one and he grinned over at Jean again. Couldn't have done anything else if he'd wanted. "I got her first," was what she came up with, taking a tighter hold on her mother like that was gonna prove her point. "Still not your turn." Then she giggled and reached over and pulled at his beard with a damned devilish grin that he didn't even have to wonder who the hell she got it from before she reasserted that hold on Red. Jesus. |
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| Jean Grey | Apr 24 2014, 11:00 PM Post #15 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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It was easier than Jean had ever thought it could be. A daughter, barely a foot away, laughing and giggling and filling up every part of the world that existed right now, excepting only the part that would always belong to the man lying awkwardly on the floor beside her, wrapping her in his oversized arm. It was easy. As though they’d had a thousand hours just like this, a million moments of laughter, of smiling, of trust and safety. They hadn’t, of course. They never would, and somewhere, Jean still knew that, but right now, none of that mattered. There was Hope, and Calvin, who needed to be tickled, however much it made him swear in front of their daughter, and then there was a tiny redheaded girl diving away from her father’s assault, or maybe his laughter, and there was only one thing to be done. Jean hugged her, tightly as she could for something so precious, and told her Baby that she had her now. Now and forever, it would have been if there had been any way to make it, but… at least there was now. “Nuh-uh,” Hope mumbled, amidst the business of squirming her way into returning that hug with two little arms that clung to her every bit as tightly as she wanted to hold her in return. “I got you now.” “Okay,” Jean agreed, finding herself short of breath in a way that had only something to do with the fact that her daughter was doing the very best she could to try to squeeze her into person-lemons. Hope was here. Hope was hugging her, letting herself be hugged. Then there was another arm around both of them, pulling them both gently further into that circle where everything made sense, and felt like it could still be okay, no matter what else had happened. ”And what if I've got you both?” Then the world, even this world, might just be okay after all. But it was Hope’s question to answer, or it felt like it should be, so Jean let her daughter field that with the tiny narrow-eyed look of consideration, watching the little girl look to her, then to her father, before turning her own gaze toward Calvin and meeting his smile with her own. The room might have started to feel like it was spinning, or floating free of whatever might have still been tying it to reality, but that was okay, wasn’t it? For just a little while, they could make it okay? “I got her first,” Hope declared, wrapping those two tiny, fiercely perfect little arms tighter around her as she did, as Jean shifted her slightly and found that perfect spot where she fitted like she’d been made for it. Which she had. “Still not your turn.” And with one more giggle, their daughter reached out and tugged on Calvin’s beard like an old school train whistle, then ducked back in against Jean, whose breath caught in her chest all over again. She was here. Safe. Happy. Holding her close, trusting that they’d look after her, as though there was no doubt in the world of that. As though it could all be forgiven, or that there was nothing to forgive, and nothing to do but to rest her cheek gently against the top of her daughter’s head, just like this, head tilted so she could still see Calvin, and let it be as easy as it seemed that it was. The tears came then, spilling over slowly before Jean could even think to do anything about them. But somehow, here, even they were easy too. |
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3:33 AM Jul 11