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We Don't Say Goodbye; 5/24 Early Early (Jean, Calvin and Hope)
Topic Started: Mar 26 2014, 12:08 AM (317 Views)
Mimic
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Yeah, Hope had her. Damned well had them both in a way that didn't have shit to do with who was hugging who, or tickling who or any've that.

Hope had him and she had Jean. Whether they were both here or not, she'd always have them and he'd do the best he could to make sure she didn't feel like she was missing too much. Whatever that took. He might not be good for much, but he'd damned well figure that out and he'd make it work. He'd make sure she remembered this, too. Remembered her mother as somebody who hugged her and laughed with her.

Somebody who'd have died for her, and somebody who never forgot her, even when she'd had nearly every damned bit of herself ripped away from her.

It was sure as hell nothing he'd ever forget and Calvin knew that just like he knew his own damned name, lying there on the fucking floor like an idiot and not caring. Just watching his daughter and her mother hug the hell outta one another.

“Okay,” Jean agreed, sounding as out of air as he felt like he was himself. Couldn't seem to draw enough of it into his lungs. Every goddamned thing he'd ever wanted, right there. Right in front of him. Wouldn't be his forever. Wouldn't even be his for long, but it was more than he damned well knew he'd had any right to ever expect.

Didn't give a damn, though. Would later, maybe, but that was later and this was now and he had one arm still mostly free, so he slung it over them, too. Pulled them both in just a little closer, because he could. Because he had them. For right now, he had them both. Just like they had him in every single damned way that meant anything.

Got him a look from Hope as she turned from him to Jean and back again, like she was trying to decide if she was gonna go along with that, or if he was maybe trespassing on her claim. Smiled, wide and happy and, Jesus, that just completely ruined him from doing anything else but smiling right back.

Even if she'd decided she had first claim on Red, there, and might be about to strangle her to death in the process, keeping as tight a hold on her as it looked like she could possibly manage. Her mother didn't seem to care at all, though, just shifted her a little and settled her against her like Hope belonged there. Hell, she did belong there. Always had. Always would.

Another giggle from his daughter and a look that wasn't anything but trouble. He knew, he'd seen that look more than once before on a different face, and one little hand shot out. Gabbed his beard and tugged and made him laugh before he could think to do anything else. Jesus. First his feathers, now his beard.

If it made her happy like that, though - that little girl he couldn't have imagined two days ago and now couldn't imagine not being here - hell, she could pull out all the feathers and the whiskers she wanted to. He wouldn't give a damn.

Hope went right back to holding onto her mother, laughing and smiling and just watching that - Calvin thought he might just break into goddamned pieces. It was a damned good feeling for once, though, as he watched Jean lay her cheek against their daughter's hair, look over at him as he met those green eyes with his.

Everything that mattered. Right there.

But, shit! She was crying. Tears slipping outta those eyes, down the curve of her cheek. What the hell stupid ass thing had he managed to say or do or-

Or, no. Wasn't that, he realized as the automatic panic mode eased back. Wasn't that at all and, yeah, shit. Probably a miracle she'd held off this long. All the shit she'd been through the last few days. Finding out about Hope. Now this.

So he pulled her in a little closer, reached up and used the pad of his thumb to try to brush some've those tears away. Let his fingers brush over her cheek just a little and for reasons that didn't have a damned thing to do with the rest.

"S'okay, Red," he told her, maybe a little damned hoarsely, since something had settled in the middle of his chest and was getting in the way of any words he tried to drag up. Squeezed her gently with his other arm as the wing he wasn't half laying on by now came around all on it's own. Like it could just shut them all into right now and keep them there as he kept his eyes on her face.

"Got youuuuuu," Hope half said, half giggled again and went back to trying to squeeze the stuffings outta her mother as Calvin smiled a little and reached down to run his hand over the back of his daughter's hair. Soft as silk and so much like her mother's.

"Yep, you got her," he told Hope, voice low and looking back up to Jean. "Pretty sure you got us both."
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Jean Grey
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She couldn’t have stopped the tears if she’d tried, but Jean didn’t even try. Instead, she let them roll down her cheeks, doing only as much as she hoped would be needed to keep from dropping onto her daughter’s fine, soft hair. Seeing the alarm in Calvin’s face too, but it passed almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Then there was only a kind of understanding in his dark eyes, a tightening of the arm that had wrapped around her, and the gentle brush of a thumb that wiped the worst of them away before they could get too close to falling on Hope.

It didn’t stop other tears from continuing to well up and roll over her eyelashes, but his fingers were warm on her skin, and softer than anyone who didn’t know him (maybe anyone who did know him, too) could have ever thought to guess, so Jean forgot to worry about that, looking up to meet his eyes and letting herself do nothing but feel. Hope, where she belonged, and the happy smile she was wearing as she tucked her little head in against her chest.

And this man and his dark eyes, and everything she knew for a certainty that she felt for him, every time they looked at her. “S’okay, Red," he told her, the father of her baby, who she loved with every fiber of her mind that she could feel at just this moment. Jean smiled at him, in spite of the tears that still wouldn’t stop rolling, shifting her grip on Hope just enough to hold her tightly with one hand while she lifted the other to rest for a moment on Calvin’s chest as his wing came around to fold them back into that private world of safety that had existed inside them.

She ran her knuckles lightly over his chest, up, and down, and up and down again, and it was good, and it was right, and it was easy, and easing, with his eyes still locked on hers until finally the tears subsided.

“Got youuuuuu,” Hope insisted, squeezing her even tighter, which might just be her cue to take that hand back and return the favor. So Jean did that, tightening her arms and wiggling her daughter just a little from side to side to keep her giggling, just like that, so she could remember that sound, and the way the little girl’s mind had felt when she did, for as long as she possibly could.

“Yep, you got her," he told Hope, voice low and looking back up to Jean, stroking their daughter’s hair as he did, “Pretty sure you got us both.”

“And we’ve got you,” Jean finished for him, lifting her eyes back to him for a moment, then back to Hope as the little girl wriggled and squirmed her way back out to having her head free, looking right up at her with those startling blue eyes.

“Mommy?” she asked, as though preparing for some far-reaching question.

Jean looked back down at her daughter, feeling a smile that rose to her face as easily as any ever had in all her lives. “Yes, Baby?” she asked, prompting the question that seemed to have fallen into a thoughtful pause.

Hope only looked at her though, and then nodded. “Knew it,” she said solemnly, or perhaps a little smugly, then burrowed back into the spot that she knew was hers, and always would be.
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Shit. Crying Red was crying and he never knew what the hell to do about that. Not then, sure as hell not now. Nothing on the fucking earth made him feel more helpless than watching her cry. Made him panic and wanna punch something at the same damned time, just because...dammit, she was crying and there wasn't a damned thing he could think of to do about it.

Then, like the not too damned quick on the uptake jackass that he was, Calvin realize it wasn't that kinda crying. Still made him feel like fucking panicking, but this kinda crying he at least had some idea what to do with. Probably the same damned thing he'd do with the other kind, now that he thought of it. Just pulled them in, Jean and Hope. Told her it was okay.

All of it. Every single damned bit. Right now, looking at them, at her, feeling it all whether he wanted to or not, whether he should or not, he could say that and he could damned well believe it. Especially when she smiled like that, hand settling on his chest as he tried to close them into that moment. Couldn't really, but his wings sure as hell tried.

Some way or other, it'd be okay.

The back of her hand brushed over his chest and he felt that, every little bit of it. Like bright, pinpoints of contact. Back and forth and he could've just lived in this exact little bit of time forever. Drew them both in just a little tighter, couldn't have looked away, couldn't have looked anywhere else even if he'd wanted to. Nothing else worth looking at that wasn't right there.

Their daughter, insisting that she had her mother and trying to squeeze the stuffings outta her again. Jeannie squeezing her right back, rocking her back and forth and setting her to giggling again, tears tapering off. Happy. Hope was happy. Jean was Happy. He couldn't be any damned thing but happy and Calvin knew he'd hold onto that, too. That picture of right now, it'd be with him for the rest've his damned life.

Yeah, Hope had her. Had both've them. Always would, whether they were both right here or not, she'd always have them.

“And we’ve got you,” Jean finished for him, those clear green eyes moving back to his for just a little bit. Then back down to that little girl that was nothing but a miracle as she squirmed around and lifted her head back up again to look at the woman holding her.

“Mommy?” she asked, like she'd known it from the second Jean walked in the door. Like it was the most natural thing in the world and she was just asking some question her four year old brain just had to know the answer to. Could've knocked him over with one've his own damned feathers if there'd been anywhere left for him to fall.

Did she even know she'd said it? What she'd said?

Jean didn't miss a beat, though, smiling down at their daughter in a way he knew he'd never forget, either. “Yes, Baby?” she asked and Hope gave her another one've those looks. One that said there was a whole lot going on up in that little head.

“Knew it,” that little girl said with a nod and just as serious as you please and like she'd damned well caught them in something she wasn't supposed to before she settled herself right back against Jean. Right where she looked like she'd always belonged. Because she damned well had.

Calvin let out a surprised snort of a laugh, then shook his head. "Jesus." It was the best damned word he could come up with as he half smiled and reached for one've Jean's hands. Catching it and lifting it long enough to bring her knuckles to his lips, then settled it back where he'd found it. "Pretty sure she gets that from you," he told Red.

Not from him, that was for damned sure. He'd never been that quick on the uptake. Ask any damned body.

"Fucker," Hope spoke up again, turning her head to grin over at him before one little arm snaked over and wrapped tight around his neck for a few seconds and he shot a wry smile back over to Jean.

"Swear to god, that's not my fault," he insisted, or tried to insist, since either way he had a feeling he wasn't getting off scott free on that shit. Still couldn't help grinning all the damned same.

Dammit. Forge, the Fucker.
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“Knew it.”

It was only when those two quiet, satisfied (one might almost say smug) words came back from her daughter that Jean properly realized what it was that she’d just answered without thinking. Her baby - her perfect, smiling daughter, who somehow still knew who she was. Maybe she even had all along.

How? She didn’t know, was almost too afraid to ask, or even to wonder about. No, scratch that. No almost about it, she couldn’t face, couldn’t even begin to try to think about that, or really of anything but holding her daughter close as she burrowed back into the place nestled in her arms where she’d always belonged, even if this was the first time she’d ever been able to hold her there.

That whirl of not-quite panic eased as soon as Calvin’s snort of laughter reached her ears though. “Jesus,” he said, head shaking as she lifted her eyes up to his, finding something steadying in them that brought out a smile again. Just a small one, maybe, but it was a smile, and it grew when he caught her free hand and brought it up to his mouth. A brush of warm breath on her knuckles, and a faint butterfly pressure from his lips, then as he lowered it once more, back to where it had been resting on his chest, Jean twisted her fingers, threading them through his.

With that for perspective, none of this seemed quite so overwhelming, somehow. Strange, that… but Jean couldn’t say she didn’t like it.

“Pretty sure she gets that from you," he told Red.

Over their daughter’s head, since Hope was still pressed tightly against her, as though she might be set on making sure that this wasn’t going anywhere, Jean raised an eyebrow at the bearded man, lips quirking in what even she was surprised to recognize as amusement. “Being a little know-it-all?” she mused, perhaps a little leadingly, “Maybe.”

Certainly there were any number of people over the years who would have agreed with that assessment of her, the redhead knew. But of course, there was a younger, clean-shaven version of the man in front of her that she remembered wearing a uniform an awful lot like that one, and insisting loudly that he knew everything there was to know about anything, and she remembered that too.

There went Hope though, shuffling out of her arm cocoon enough to turn toward her father with a grin. “Fucker,” she designated him once again, before reaching over and managing to get an arm around his neck to hug him tightly too.

It was a good smile to see on his face, Jean decided - this one he turned back to her now. A little wry maybe, or a little bemused, but beneath that (maybe above it, actually, in the way it was changed by what was in his eyes whenever she met them), there was something else. Something happier. Something more.

“Swear to god, that's not my fault,” he claimed, though it lacked all the conviction it might have needed to really have a good shot at being convincing. Certainly it wasn’t very convincing for Jean, who smiled a little more herself, and raised both of her own eyebrows.

“And who else are you going to blame it on? Forge?” she suggested, before pausing to reconsider her own words. Actually, when you put it that way… “Hmm… okay, yeah. I’ll believe that.”

If anyone was going to somehow sneak in and manage to insert something like that into her daughter’s head before she’d even known her father for a day (and it was, very obviously, already a lost cause to even think about trying to change), it would almost have to be that Asshat, wouldn’t it?

“Uncle Asshat,” Hope informed them both, with a slight air of pedantry that reminded Jean (in a way that left a slight, happy ache in its wake) of her family. “He found me.”

Jean paused, lips pursing thoughtfully for a moment as she took that in, hesitating before nodding. “Did he?” she asked.

And so now she owed the fact her daughter was rediscovered, and in her arms, to the Asshat? Wonderful. Now she couldn’t even really be annoyed at him for this Fucker debacle.
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She knew it. Jesus. Yeah, hell of course she did.

Hope, Calvin was more than beginning to suspect, already had him damned well outsmarted. There was the proof right there that she was ahead of both of them.

Nothing to do but let out a surprised, but not that damned surprised, snorted laugh. Look over at Red, 'cause it'd caught her by surprise, too. He'd felt that edge of alarm - not even too damned sure if it was hers or his - but she looked right back at him and whose ever it was, or if it was both, it faded away again. Took the hand that wasn't holding their daughter and pulled it up to his lips. Because it felt natural to do that. Right. Just like the way her fingers threaded through his felt natural.

Like this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe because it was. How it would've been supposed to be, if everything hadn't turned to shit all around them. A little piece of that, here and now.

Still, though, he was pretty damned sure Hope hadn't got that kinda knack for figuring things out from him. Had to have come from Red.

She gave him a look, though, like he might've be full've shit (and even he'd admit he probably was) but she didn't mind that too much, at least. “Being a little know-it-all?” she mused, perhaps a little leadingly, “Maybe.”

That smile he'd been wearing stretched right into a damned grin. "Well, hell, when you put it that way," he told her, figuring he had one hand and she had hope with the other, so she couldn't smack him that easy. Or, shit, yeah she could. There was still TK in the mix and she sure as hell didn't need her hands for that. "Guess she might've come by it honest from both directions," he allowed.

No point denying he'd been more than his share of an obnoxious, know everything, ass in his time. Especially with Jean, since she'd been there for it and got dragged off into a cave for her trouble.

Yeah, alright. Maybe it came mostly from him after all.

Then Hope decided to go ahead and throw in a hug for him, too. One little arm snaking out and grinning that grin that was sure as hell more her mother's than his - and that was a damned good thing, for her sake. And throwing out that name he'd already gave up trying to get her let go of, because she was stuck fast to it.

Hugged her right back, decided he didn't give a damn what she called him as long as he kept getting hugs like that to go with it. Smiled, since there wasn't a damned thing he could've done but and nothing else he wanted to do. Well, other than deny any damned responsibility for their daughter calling him 'Fucker'.

Sure as hell wasn't taking responsibility for that one if he could help it.

Or, shit, gave it a shot, anyway, even if maybe it didn't even sound all that damned convincing to his own ear. So no way in hell would Jeannie ever buy it. Still didn't stop him from trying and at least she was smiling, even if she was giving him one've those 'you're still full've shit' looks.

Couldn't say he didn't like those, really. The way they sorta lit up her face and her eyes, even if it meant trouble. Hell, maybe because it meant trouble if he was honest.

“And who else are you going to blame it on? Forge?” she suggested, and hell yeah, that was the plan. Since it actually was the Fucker's fault. She stopped a second to think about that, then let him off the hook a lot easier than he'd figure. “Hmm… okay, yeah. I’ll believe that.”

“Uncle Asshat,” Hope informed them both, since they were obviously fucking that up to her way of thinking, “He found me.” Something he'd sure as hell never forget. Seeing Forge come carrying that little bit of a girl, all wide-eyed and not quite sure of what the hell was going on, arms clinging around his neck.

One good look, and it'd been like somebody'd hit him with a sledge hammer. He'd seen her mother in that look and he knew he was looking at his daughter. However damned impossible that might've seemed.

Jeannie paused, lips pursed and his hand moved up and down her back without him having to bother telling it to. Then she nodded. “Did he?” she asked and Hope nodded and Calvin pulled them both in a little tighter as his daughter burrowed in closer to her mother.

"Uh-huh," Hope told her, finger tracing along some bit of Jean's uniform that she was putting her attention on in that way little kids seemed to have of doing. When it was something they weren't sure they knew what to think or say about. "He found me and took me out of the bad place."

Jesus. The bad place. Still a fucking miracle she'd come through that damned place, that fucking bastard, and somehow still been untouched. Nothing but a fucking miracle.

"And you'll never have to see that place again," Calvin assured her, catch in his voice as he looked over to Jean, but Hope was smiling when she looked up.

"I like it here," she told them, looking happier than any've them had any right to expect. Then she grinned at her mother and added, "I poked Uncle Asshat's brain."
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Hope had gotten this from her? And what was that ‘this’, exactly? Being a little know-it-all? Because in that case, Jean thought she knew herself well enough (and remembered herself at only a little older than Hope well enough) to feel obliged to admit that there might be something there.

“Well, hell, when you put it that way,” Calvin returned, wearing a grin that the telepath might seriously have considered wiping off his face with her own mouth had her arms not been full of Hope. As it was, it might have been a good thing that she couldn’t, though it didn’t keep the thought from flashing by for a moment.

Of course, she remembered ‘Mimic’ well enough at eighteen to lift her eyebrows and grin a little more at him until he admitted, “Guess she might've come by it honest from both directions.”

He guessed. Jean chuckled softly, then fell back to a quiet smile as Hope wriggled out and gave her father his latest dosage of hug medicine. With an added bonus of another round of That name, which she clearly wasn’t about to be letting go of any time soon, though by the looks of it, the one was nearly as welcomed as the other by her father, who grinned and hugged her back, then tried (possibly half-heartedly) to disavow himself from any responsibility.

Yeah, that, Jean wasn’t going to believe. Wouldn’t have believed even without telepathy, in fact, but her daughter was here where she belonged, in her arms, and with her father, so there didn’t seem to be any real way to do anything but smile in the moment. Well, except for raising her eyebrows again, because she felt enough herself to refuse to let Calvin away with that kind of gross exaggeration, if not outright lie.

Who else was he going to blame, anyway?

Except Forge. Okay. He probably was going to blame the Asshat, and Jean couldn’t really say she wouldn’t be perfectly willing to believe that. If anyone was going to sneak in and lead her daughter into something like that? Yeah. And she remembered them, or maybe she could see Calvin’s memories of the man. But still-

…wait, had Hope just called him ‘Uncle Asshat’? That did make it a little better. Alright, a lot better. “He found me,” though, that was what Hope added, and that had Jean’s smile disappearing into slightly pursed lips as her thoughts stalled, rather than properly switching gears. He… alright, she could do this. Calvin’s hand, skimming gently up and down her back, and she could skirt her thoughts around too many details of what Hope was meaning, and remember that she was very, very, very happy that her daughter was here, and alive, and smiling, and keep the rest at bay, in favor of reminding herself she needed to sigh over the fact that now she owed the Asshat, and would forever.

‘Uncle’ Asshat had found her. Okay. All she needed to do to avoid an awkward silence was just to ask the question again. “Did he?”

“Uh-huh,” Hope told her, slipping into some displacement activity of her own, tracing along one of the raised seams at the front of the green and purple stealth suit as Jean paid the backstroking forward, running one hand softly over the little girl’s back. “He found me and took me out of the bad place.”

The bad place. Without consciously thinking about it, the redhead shifted herself and Hope around, till she had the space to tuck her own head in tightly against Calvin’s chest, just as she was doing for Hope, and closing her eyes tighty. She couldn’t speak, Jean knew that well enough. She didn’t have the words, any words. Not to risk trying here, and risk breaking into a hundred different pieces once again, right in front of her daughter. She’d just… tuck herself away, as far as she could, and keep her arms around Hope, and try not to make anything worse.

“And you'll never have to see that place again,” Calvin said, for both of them, arms tight and strong and warm and safe around them all. That ‘bad’ place was gone, Jean added to herself in her head. He was gone. For Hope, at least, one day soon it should be nothing more than a faintly remembered bad dream, and she’d have her Dad, her Fucker there to make the nightmare only that.

Maybe that was beginning already, because when Jean found herself enough togetherness to open her eyes, her daughter was smiling, happy blue eyes and little white teeth. “I like it here," she told them, then twisted her head and turned that innocently devious little grin she had up toward Jean, “I poked Uncle Asshat's brain.”

She’d - Jean felt her brain stall a little again, but this time the change was down, and it was smoother as it resolved, letting her find a smile of her own once more, one she turned solemnly back down at her daughter. “I’ve wanted to do that sometimes too,” she confided in her daughter.

“Rachel helped.”

Jean nodded. “She’s a very good big sister,” she said, because it seemed like it ought to be said, then hesitated again, lips half open around a thought that it took a moment to form into real words. “I’m glad you like it here, Hope,” Jean said softly, stroking the little girl’s hair. “I’m glad…” she repeated, fingering the bow her Hope was wearing and trailing off just this side of absently. It had gotten askew, amidst all of the tickling and hugging and all of it. That was easier to think about than trying to make herself put into words the rest of the things in her head, so Jean shook her head very slightly, and stopped trying. “…I’m glad.”

Maybe that could be enough to say.

“Come here,” she added a moment later, in a stronger voice, lifting Hope slightly and scooching herself a little to try to rise back up into something approximating upright, casting a look over her shoulder at Calvin as she did. “Let’s sit up so your Fucker doesn’t have to squash his wings anymore.”

Just because he hadn’t complained didn’t mean it could possibly be comfortable. Certainly not that there couldn’t be ways to be more comfortable.
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Damned right it was the Fucker's fault.

Jean at least seemed to buy that. Guess Forge in that other world wasn't much on her good side any more than the one he knew had been. 'Least he had the minor consolation of Rachel getting Hope to start calling him Uncle Asshat. That was something and even if it hadn't been, that smile of Jeannie's would've made up any difference.

He'd take all've those he could get and Calvin couldn't help grinning himself. Just for the hell of it and because he felt like it. Didn't last nearly long enough, though, since Hope went on to mention it'd been Forge that found her. Confirmed that when he mother asked again as that little girl set her attention on some part of Jean's uniform. Told how he'd found her and took her outta the bad place.

Jesus.

Calvin felt the smile vanish as he looked over at Jean, wish there was some way he could take ever having to remember that fucking place and that bastard again away. Get rid of the memories or just make it never have fucking happened. Couldn't, and he knew it, but didn't stop him from wishing it all the same.

All the hell he could do now, though, was pull them both in tighter as Jean shifted around, tucked herself in against him. That place nobody had ever fit the same way and never would. Promise both of them they'd never have to see that fucking place again, at least. Hadn't left it anything but rubble and memories and he'd crushed the goddamned life outta Ahab himself.

Wasn't enough, but it was what he had. That and right now, doing what he could - even if he knew he didn't have a fucking clue if it was the right thing - to make sure they both knew he was right here. Right with them. That none've that could touch either of them anymore.

It was bullshit - because it'd all still happened and he couldn't change that - and he didn't have the first damned clue what to say, either, not out loud, but he'd do what he could right here and now to make sure it was as true as it could be. Would've made damned sure nothing and no one ever laid a hand on either of them again, if he could've. Would've gave anything, right this second, to be able to do that as one hand reached up to brush stray locks of red hair off Jean's cheek. Light touch just because he wanted her to keep knowing he was right there. She was safe now. Hope was safe now.

And smiling, putting everything aside just that quick in that resilient way little kids had that was like a damned miracle to announce that she liked it here. And that she'd poked Forge's brain with a grin that should've scared the hell outta him, devilish as it was, but was too damned cute for all of that.

Eyes open again, Jeannie looked like she didn't know what the hell to think about that. Couldn't blame her, since he hadn't either, but he still wished he'd seen the Fucker's face when it happened.

Then Jeannie was smiling again, turning back to their daughter with the serious a thing like that deserved. “I’ve wanted to do that sometimes too,” she confided and Calvin let out a soft chuckle, felling some've that tension and worry of a second or too before fade again.

"Hell, hasn't everybody?" he couldn't help but ask as Hope insisted, “Rachel helped.” Even if 'helped' might not've been the word Forge would've gone for. Him either, for that matter. Maybe instigated, but that was all right, too.

“She’s a very good big sister,” Jean agreed with a nod, then hesitated, like she was trying to find the words she wanted. “I’m glad you like it here, Hope,” Jean said softly, stroking the little girl’s hair. “I’m glad…” she repeated, fingering the bow her Hope was wearing and trailing off just this side of absently. as Calvin held onto them both and just watched them. Made sure that was a memory that would always be clear in his mind. Not just for Hope, for later, but for him. For the days he knew he'd need to remember that there'd been a time when everything he'd ever wanted had been right in front of him. And it'd been just as damned good as he'd always thought it would, “…I’m glad.”

"So am I," he added, voice low and gruff and just looking at them both for another few seconds before his eyes settled on Jean. Nearly did something stupid before he could stop himself, because he was a fucking idiot. No surprise there, though.

“Come here,” she added a moment later, in a stronger voice, lifting Hope slightly and scooching herself a little to try to rise back up into something approximating upright, casting a look over her shoulder at Calvin as she did. “Let’s sit up so your Fucker doesn’t have to squash his wings anymore.”

Hell, somebody could've probably lopped them off and he wouldn't have noticed, but the winged man got himself half upright as he reached over with his other hand to support Jean's back so she wouldn't overbalance. Then he worked on getting himself more upright, too, shifting the wings in question around into something that was definitely more comfortable as Hope stretched to try to peer behind him curiously.

"Are the 'quashed?" she asked, looking a little worried about that, maybe, and he shook his head, rustling them around for her a little.

"Nah, they're not squashed, see," Calvin assured her, half grinning over at Jean and leaving that arm slung easily around her shoulders as he stretched them out the best he could managing, considering their position. "Good as new."

Hope seemed satisfied with that but then started turning her head this way and that, face scrunched up into something close to a frown. "Lost my feathers," she complained, and shit. He knew what was coming if he didn't find out pretty damned fast. He'd be on his way to plucked again.

There was one close by, though, and he snatched that up with his free hand, grinning like a dumbass and tickling her nose a little with it, making her giggle and squirm.

"Look what I found." he held it out to her and she snatched it with a grin, stuck it inside Bear's Ewok hood, then gave him a speculative look that sure as hell was trouble.

"That one's Bears," she informed him, like he oughta have known that, "I need more. Mommy doesn't got any."

"Well, hang on. The others've gotta be here," Calvin told her, hoping to stall any more grabs for his wings. Then he looked over at Jean and added with a grin, "Keep a good grip on her, or I'm gonna look like I'm molting. She's a lot quicker than she looks."

Not that he wouldn't have gave every damned feather he had to that little girl if she'd really wanted them, but if he could spread that out over a few more days he'd be a lot more comfortable in general.
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Jean Grey
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Poke Forge in the brain?

Was it bad to admit to your four year old that you’d entertained that same exact thought about another adult, even an Asshat of an adult? Quite possibly, Jean decided, but she did it anyway, finding her smile again somewhere between the way Hope was smiling and a certain kind of humor-filled guilt that was trying to tell her she probably shouldn’t be.

“Hell, hasn't everybody?” Calvin asked from beside her, which either raised even more questions about how the pair of them could be so apparently inseparable in not one but two universes, or answered all everything you might need to know, but there wasn’t time to delve into that right now, because Hope had her own contribution to offer to the discussion, informing them conscientiously that Rachel had helped.

So even Rachel wanted to poke the Cheyenne man in the brain? Well, perhaps she wouldn’t inquire about how that had come about too closely, Jean decided, though finding other words to maintain the flow of conversation now that it had started again was harder than she wanted it to be. Rachel was a good big sister - she managed to say that much, then lost her words around a thought that her mind and her voice were trying to shy away from. One that even with that happier look that Hope was wearing once again, still touched a little too close on the words and the memories that even Calvin’s presence, even the gentle touch of his fingers, even her daughter’s smile couldn’t quite erase from her mind.

She was… glad that Hope liked it here. That much she could say, as she stroked the little girl’s soft hair, reminding herself that there was that way of seeing it, and of only focusing on that side of it. She was glad - but the rest of those thoughts were still too much, and while she poked at the bow in Hope’s hair that had become crooked somewhere along the line, she trailed off, and had to stop trying for words that she knew weren’t going to come. She was glad. Leave it at that.

“So am I,” Calvin added, something in his voice that she wanted to be able to catch and hold onto. Silly thought. Thought that Jean couldn’t keep, and probably shouldn’t even want to, but that didn’t seem to matter at all when she lifted her eyes around to meet his, and saw the look in his, and wanted…

…things that it would do anyone any good to think too long on, she had to remind herself, a few moments later. Before acting on them, at least. Or maybe more was the pity, but either way, at least when she tried to find her voice again, it was there waiting for her, so she could gather up Hope and start getting to work on sitting up again. They didn’t need to be lying on top of Hope’s ‘Fucker’, squashing his wings into the ground, even if he wasn’t complaining.

He helped with that, too, a hand lightly supporting her back in a way that Jean wasn’t ready to say that she didn’t need, because it felt too much like something she did. Also because moving with a care to get Hope sitting too wasn’t quite as easy as she’d expected, especially when the little girl began shifting and squirming, trying to look over her shoulder at what Calvin was doing as he joined them.

“Are the 'quashed?" she asked she asked curiously, in a way that was hard to dismiss entirely as a morbid interest in whether her father had gone the way of roadkill.

“Nah, they're not squashed, see," Calvin assured her, with a grin that Jean met easily, as she settled back against him, comfortable and close under the reassuring weight of the arm he’d kept around her. “Good as new.” They were at least looking better - fresher, maybe - than she remembered too, Jean thought to herself as she glanced back to where she could see them. Even with Hope’s best efforts, they were clean, rustling gently as he stretched, but not with any agitation.

That answer didn’t satisfy Hope for very long though, and within a few moments the little girl was looking about her, clearly dissatisfied with some aspect of her life. ”Lost my feathers," she complained by way of explanation, a confession that Jean almost could have sworn had Calvin tensing the moment it was out of their daughter’s mouth.

“Look what I found.” That came quickly after, along with a hastily recovered dropped feather that he reintroduced to Hope by tickling her nose with it, making her giggle and squirm, and Jean smile a little more again. Though at least for Hope, that happy state of affairs didn’t last for longer than it took for him to stop and offer the feather to her. No, she’d seen right through that blatant attempt to distract her from her quarry, hadn’t she?

“That one's Bears," she informed him, like she had an answer for everything. She probably did, too. “I need more. Mommy doesn't got any.”

Jean’s lips quivered a little, as she tried to keep her own grin from growing too much at that convenient excuse. “That’s true. Mommy lost hers,” she agreed, doing her best to sound innocent of any potential accusations of aiding and abetting that might be coming once she did. That calculating, but entirely adorable look that Hope had in her eye was far too much to resist, after all.

“Well, hang on. The others've gotta be here," Calvin told her, for which you had to give him credit for fighting on gamely in what was, probably, a losing cause as far as keeping his wings unmolested went. But the smile he turned on her made it more than worth it, Jean thought. “Keep a good grip on her, or I'm gonna look like I'm molting. She's a lot quicker than she looks.”

Was that so? Her daughter was probably a bad influence, because it was much, much too hard for Jean to resist meeting that information with anything but a mischievous look, eyes twinkling back at the bearded man. Though she did make sure that Hope was safely holed up in her arms, without much of an opportunity to escape and launch another raid on the wings while she was at it, at least. “We like your Fucker better when he’s not bald in patches,” Jean told her daughter conversationally, while he was looking for the previously discarded ones.

Hope frowned thoughtfully at that, or maybe she had other grimace-worthy things on her mind, because the next moment she was pushing at the bow on her head, and trying to squint up at it at the same time, lower lip rising up over top of the upper one in an expression of concentration. “Here,” Jean said, gently reaching up to try to fix it again, but quickly coming to realize she was just going to have to remove it entirely to make it work. “That’s just not going to stay at all, is it?” she asked, mostly rhetorically, because she could remember well enough being only a little older than Hope, and never managing to keep one of those straight for any length of time at all. And now that she had it off, held between her thumb and forefinger…

“Tell you what,” Jean began a moment later, looking up from the ribbon to meet her daughter’s eyes, “Mommy doesn’t have any ribbons either, so is it alright if she borrows yours?”

Hope had to think about that carefully for a moment, but then she nodded with a little smile. “It’s pretty,” she announced, apropos of something that made sense to her.

Jean smiled, wrapping the ribbon a little tighter between her fingers, then hugging her daughter closer again. “So are you,” she told her.
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Jesus, yeah, keep his damned mind off shit he didn't even have any business thinking about. Wouldn't make things easier on either of them.

He'd just keep telling himself that and maybe it'd fucking take. Meanwhile, Calvin decided that look on his daughter's face that meant all kinds of feather pulling to come if he didn't get his ass in gear and head it off. The wings might not be squashed, but that sure as hell didn't mean they were outta danger.

Especially with Hope informing him she'd lost her feathers and then the one he'd managed to find was apparently Bear's damned feather. Which meant she didn't have any and her mother didn't have any and holy fuck, how did you even argue with logic like that? From a damned four year old? Especially one that'd just been giggling and squirming around and was settled there with Jean like it's where she'd always been. Like it was exactly where she belonged, because it was.

Gave him a pang, right in the middle of his chest again. One that was a deep ache, a yearning for things he damned well knew couldn't happen and that he couldn't even want. Not without making an even bigger mess of things and people than any damned body deserved. Especially Jean.

Didn't stop that feeling, though. Not even a damned little, but there was plenty more to focus on, like keeping whatever was left of his wings as intact as he could manage. Which wasn't looking a hell'uva lot less likely with that look on Red's face. That grin that was making itself wider.

“That’s true. Mommy lost hers,” she agreed and oh Jesus now it was both've them. Wasn't buying that trying to sound innocent from Jean, since he wasn't born yesterday.

Shot her a knowing look and half a smirk and still tried to fight the damned inevitable all the same. The other feathers had to be around here somewhere. And maybe Jeannie'd at least keep a grip on hope long enough for him to find a couple if he could get her to take any kinda pity on him. Hope was a hell'uva lot quicker than any little kid had the right to be.

Ah, shit. Yeah, there was another look. Green eyes practically glinting trouble all over the place. Made him wanna kiss her all over again, but he told himself Hope was in the way and she at least had a grip on their daughter and he probably shouldn't even think about tempting fate that way.

“We like your Fucker better when he’s not bald in patches,” Jean told her daughter conversationally, though, and that was something. Gave him time to look around some more. Where the hell did the damned things get to that fast?

“Here,” Jean said, from next to him, to Hope he realized. “That’s just not going to stay at all, is it?” Must be talking about that bow in her hair. Cute as hell, but kept wanting to slide out.

"Thought about trying to tape it on," he told Jean offhandedly, spotting one've the things sticking out from under his leg. A little readjusting and he had that one, and there was one've the others, over there about five feet away. Maybe the damned thing was flying by itself, otherwise didn't know how the hell it got that far.

“Tell you what,” Jean began a moment later, as he floated the other feather over with TK and turned back to see Jean holding that little blue bow outta Hope's hair. “Mommy doesn’t have any ribbons either, so is it alright if she borrows yours?”

Hope gave that some thought as he just sat there and watched them again, feeling a pressure in his throat, right there behind his adam's apple. A lump that wanted to lodge itself there. “It’s pretty,” she announced after a considered nod as her version of consent that probably only made sense to a four year old girl.

Jeannie smiled, though, and wrapped her fingers around that bow, hugging Hope to her. “So are you,” she told her and that lump got a little damned bigger.

"Gorgeous," Calvin added, half damned surprised he could even get a sound out, but managing a smile to go with it when he did as he held one've the feathers out to Jean. Not able to look anywhere but right there at her face just now. "Just like her mother."

Felt Hope pluck the second one outta his hand with a happy little declaration of, "That's mine."

"Yeah, all yours," he agreed, now free hand lifting up to brush the back of his knuckles lightly over Jean's cheek. Told himself he was a goddamned idiot again, but he'd never listened to himself much before. Didn't look like he was gonna start now, either.
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Alright then - while Calvin did his best to find those scattered pre-plucked feathers (he did look better without the bald patches), maybe she could see about straightening that bow in Hope’s head that had started as adorably tilted to one side, and was now something a lot closer to hopelessly askew. Not to mention probably starting to tickle, if the way Hope was grimacing and pushing it was anything to go by.

Jean got started on that, only to realize very quickly that however many powers and hours of hair-related vanity she might have accrued in her life, fixing this one quickly might actually be a little beyond her. That thing was not willing to stay on at all, was it?

“Thought about trying to tape it on,” Calvin commented from behind her, shifting them both a little like he was trying to reach for something. Jean didn’t bother to turn to see what though - she had eyes only for her daughter, and those eyes were filled with more than a little amusement, and maybe, just maybe, having to be suppressed from rolling too much. Tape it on?

“Men,” she told Hope conspiratorially, because this was about to be a very important piece of information that every mother should pass on to her daughter. “They’re silly.”

The little girl just looked at her, as though she wasn’t sure exactly what to make of that, but when Jean nodded leadingly, she followed suit carefully, and that would do for a start.

Meanwhile, the bow was now out of Hope’s hair, but when Jean looked down at it between her fingers, somehow she couldn’t bring herself to the idea of letting it go and to tie it back up. It would only come out again, she told herself, as though that were the reason, but to Hope she only said something a little closer to the truth. Mommy didn’t have any ribbons either, did she? Not ones that had belonged to her daughter, anyway, however transiently that might have been. Maybe it would be alright if she borrowed Hope’s now?

That too required some thought, but after a second or so, Hope nodded, even giving that little smile that was fast becoming one of the things Jean thought she might have given up a lot just to see more of. “It’s pretty,” she said, which… well, they’d say that was a positive answer, wouldn’t they?

So was she, though, and Jean told her that, and hugged her closer again. This. This was what she had, and for now, she’d just concentrate on doing her best to make sure that that was as much as it possibly could be, because it wouldn’t - couldn’t - ever be enough.

“Gorgeous,” Calvin added, pulling her away from that moment, right into another as she turned to the sound of his voice, and found her breath stolen away all over again by the look that was in his eyes. She’d never gotten to see another pair of eyes looking at her like that, and now the dark, deep pair held her transfixed, with a smile blooming across her face as she returned that look, reaching for the feather she could feel him holding out to her without needing to drop her eyes to look at it. “Just like her mother.”

“That’s mine,” Hope said, and Jean felt her shifting, reaching for what had to be another feather, because this one stayed right where it was, in her fingers, twining almost of its own accord into the loops of ribbon that were already twisted up there. This one would be hers, then.

“Yeah, all yours," [Calvin] agreed, never looking away for a second, but bringing his hand up, drawing the back of his fingers lightly over her cheek. Jean turned her head, and pressed her lips to his knuckles, and didn’t have to tell herself anything to justify it. It was just what she was doing, and what was the only thing at all to do in that moment.

This one was their moment, and the very next one belonged to Hope again, as more shifting of the small weight on her lap alerted Jean to new goings on that turned out - when she finally looked away to investigate them - to be some sort of stylized joust of feathers between her daughter and her daughter’s Bear. Hope carefully holding Bear’s feather against Bear’s paw with one hand, and directing hi- no, her - to slash and parry at the feather she’d claimed for herself, tightly grasped in her other hand

Smiling, Jean watched the battle without a word, enjoying it too much not to be afraid of ending it prematurely by alerting Hope to the fact she was being observed. This, she wanted to be able to remember. But still it all came to a halt all too quickly, Hope choreographing a thrust that took her feather past Bear’s guard, tickling that unlucky (or quite possibly lucky) animal under its furry snout for a moment, then twisting her head up to look back at them once more.

“Now what?” the little girl asked.

Jean glanced toward Calvin for a moment, without knowing exactly what she’d intended to communicate by doing that, but by the time she looked back to her daughter, the glimmer of an idea was forming. “How about… a story?” she suggested, plucking the notion out of thin air, as much as anything else, then flicking her eyes back to Mimic once again, this time with a much more definite hint of a smile. “How about I tell you about the very first time I ever met your father?”

It seemed like one that really ought not to be forgotten, didn’t it?
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Well, what the hell was wrong with taping the damned thing on if it wouldn't stay in her hair?

Must've been something, because there was some kinda look going on from Jean. Hell, he could practically feel it. Might not've been pointed his way, but might as well have been.

“Men,” she told Hope conspiratorially, and yep, there it was. “They’re silly.” Shit, couldn't even argue with that, Calvin groused to himself as he got his ass in gear with lost feather collection while Hope and Jean discussed the problem with men (him being the stand in for the whole damned gender, apparently) and bows and how pretty they were.

And how pretty their daughter was, and she was. Gorgeous, just like her mother. The mother he couldn't have taken his eyes off of if he'd wanted to as he held out those two feathers. One to Jean, one to Hope that she claimed and took outta his hand as he watched that smile bloom on her mother's face. Could've got lost in that look in her eyes.

Hell, maybe he had, since he couldn't seem to look anywhere else. All hers. Both of theirs, even if he wasn't just talking about the damned feathers anymore, and he damned well knew it. Couldn't have stopped himself from brushing the backs of his knuckles along Red's cheek and didn't bother to try. Whether he should've or not, did anyway. Had to.

Jeannie didn't pull away like he'd more than half expected her to. Instead, turned her head, soft lips pressing to his fingers in a way that made something in the middle of his chest pull tight again. Made him want to do more than just barely touch her, whether he knew damned well better or not. Another moment he could've just lived in if there'd been any way to do that.

Had to let it go, though, as Hope started moving herself around, starting some kinda sword fight between her and Bear and those two feathers. Jesus. Damned right, she was gorgeous. Most adorable little thing on the face of the earth as far as he was concerned, sitting there and pretend fighting with that stuff animal she wouldn't let go of for more than five minutes at a time. Just watched her, slipping an arm around Jean's shoulder again as she watched her, too. And he did a little bit of watching both've them. Storing those pictures away in his head for days he knew he'd need them. Or Hope would. Or maybe those days they'd just want them.

Not much've a surprise when Hope came out the winner, sneaking in under Bear's defenses and tickling her into submission. Victory won, she turned their way again. “Now what?” the little girl asked and she was looking at them and Jean was turning to look at him and fuck if he knew.

Probably looked like he was staring down the barrel of a gun when he looked back over at Jean. Hell, felt a little like he was. An adorable, four year old gun with big, blue expectant eyes. Shit, this was a hell'uva lot easier when he didn't have to stop and actually think about it.

Story of his damned life.

Jeannie, though, she looked like she might have some kinda idea, thank fuck. “How about… a story?” she suggested, turning back to Hope. Shit, did he even remember any stories fit to tell a little kid? Yeah, yeah, maybe he did, Calvin decided. He could probably at least fake his way through the Three Little Pigs or Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Shit, maybe even Snow White if he could remember how many damned Dwarves there were supposed to be. “How about I tell you about the very first time I ever met your father?”

Jesus. Or Red could do that and he could groan and give her a look he knew wouldn't do a damned bit of good to keep her from doing exactly that. Had to try any damned way, just because. Already a lost cause to try to head that off, with that curious look in Hope's eyes already.

"Okay," she agreed and snuggled herself comfortably into her mother's lap again, wrapping Bear up in one arm and settling in for the long haul.

"How about the Three Bears instead?" Calvin suggested quickly in what he already knew was a futile damned attempt to distract her. Or Jean. Or both of them.

Hope gave him a scrutinizing look he'd have sworn came straight from Jean herself, then shook her head. "I wanna hear Mommy's story."

Mimic sighed, mouth quirking up on one side wryly. "Yeah, I had a feeling you were gonna say that."

Looked over at Jean with that same wry look and then gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. Hell, Hope was gonna hear about it some time or other, anyway. Might as well hear it from her mother.
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They shouldn’t. For more reasons than one, they shouldn’t.

But reason didn’t feel like it had a place in these moments, and so Jean ignored it, and did the only thing that felt like it belonged, turning her lips to Calvin’s knuckles when they grazed her cheek. Then dropped her eyes from his finally, to attend to Hope, and the quiet, but involved pageant of feather battles their daughter was inventing for herself and her bear.

An arm slipped back around her shoulders, and she leaned into the circle it had made about her, still watching the little girl staging her fight until it was over - all too soon, and not a second before it needed to be - with Hope emerging as the entirely predictable victor. That settled, she was already turning her face up to them with a look that hung expectation in the air like some sort of early Christmas decorations.

Now what?

She turned to Calvin, not knowing what she was looking for, or what she was trying to communicate. But somehow the look on his face - which was one that was, if anything, more overtly lost and on edge than the anxious nerves that had begun to pool in her stomach again at those two words - made the moment easier, not harder. There was an idea that sparked when she looked at him, and… well, in the absence of anything else, it seemed like a decent idea, maybe even an enjoyable one.

How about a story? And - because she couldn’t help but telegraph her intentions a little by shooting another, far more amused look toward Calvin, and the still semi-panicky look that was on his face, the one that made doing more than looking at him almost too tempting for a second - it took Jean what turned into a dramatic pause before she followed up on that. How about she told her daughter the story of the first time she’d met her father?

She didn’t look back at the sound of on-cue groaning though. No. She had more self-restraint than that (barely, but she did), and anyway, the curious look in her daughter’s eyes was one that she wanted to watch for as long as it was there.

“Okay,” she agreed, then set about burrowing back into a position that must have been more comfortable for her. There were a couple of extra elbows and knees digging into Jean for a second or two, but she couldn’t have grudged that had they had been five times more pointy. And once Hope was settled, with Bear tucked safely under her arm, so that Jean could wrap her arms around her again, it felt like the very most comfortable thing ever.

“How about the Three Bears instead?” Calvin suggested quickly, but not nearly quickly enough to have had any chance of heading that idea off. She’d got in there first, and it was done now, and she had the expression on their daughter’s face as she twisted around to fix small blue eyes on her father to prove it.

“I wanna hear Mommy's story,” Hope told him, with a determined shake of her head which had Calvin sighing in a way that Jean could already hear him repeating a thousand times in the future, and felt a pang for the knowledge that she wouldn’t. “Yeah, I had a feeling you were gonna say that,” he said though, and when Jean turned back to him, there was a wry smile, and a squeeze of her shoulders that put that pang at bay once again, just like it needed to.

She turned back to her daughter, smiling again as she considered starting points, and o fcourse, the all-important names. “We’ll call it… Ginger-locks and the one Bear.”

That suggestion didn’t seem to appeal very much to Hope though, judging by that wrinkled nose. Admittedly, it did have an awkward Lord of the Rings feel about it, though it didn’t seem like that would be the little girl’s reason for objecting, and indeed, it wasn’t. “This is Bear.” Bear was carefully levered out of the crook of Hope’s elbow and presented for her inspection, then attention was turned back to Calvin, with a slight shake of her head, like Hope was concerned for her mother’s intelligence. “That’s Fucker.”

Well then. It was oddly hard to argue with that kind of logic. “Ginger-locks and the one Bearded Dragon?” Jean suggested instead, just a little hopefully.

“Okay,” Hope allowed.

“Alright then.” Jean paused, tilting her head to one side, and smiling a little crookedly at her daughter, for no other reason than that she existed, and that she was sitting on her lap, and (unfortunate attempts at naming aside) she was happy. “You know Mommy has powers?” Jean asked then, waiting for Hope to look at her thoughtfully, and shift her head in what might have been the start of a nod. “She can move things with her brain, and speak to people inside their heads.”

“Like Rachel.”

“Like Rachel,” Jean agreed, just as solemnly.

“And poke them in the brain.”

“And poke them in the brain,” she agreed again, though this time solemn was a long way distant. “And your Fucker has powers too,” she continued, before the list of things Rachel could do that had appeared in Hope’s mind had had time to get to her mouth.

“And wings,” their daughter offered again, with the air of a scholar imparting a very important, but quite secret, piece of knowledge.

Jean nodded carefully. “Yes, he has them too now,” she agreed, glancing back to Calvin with a smile that for the moment, was his and only his. “But he didn’t then. He just had his powers, and those mean that he can borrow other people’s powers, if they’re nearby,” she explained, and had to look to him all over again, with a smile this time that might have still been all for him, but it was definitely brimming over with more than a little amusement too. as she continued, “He used to think that that made him very special.”
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Yeah, shit. The Three Bears wasn't gonna fly. Knew it before he said it, but Calvin threw it out there anyway. Outta sheer, fucking desperation.

So no surprise when Hope informed him in no uncertain terms that she wanted to hear Jean's story instead and the winged man decided he might as well not just give Jeannie's shoulders a squeeze and stop fighting the inevitable. Wouldn't do him one damned bit of good and he couldn't even make himself worry about it too much.

Like he'd said, Hope'd hear it eventually. Might as well hear it from her mother. Didn't stop him from grumbling on principle, though.

“We’ll call it… Ginger-locks and the one Bear.” Jean turned back to Hope with a smile and Calvin let out a snort of amusement. Jesus. Even Hope wasn't sure about that one. You could tell by the way she was wrinkling her nose.

“This is Bear.” There came bear, out from under her arm to hold out to Jean so she could get a good look. Then Hope was looking at him and shaking her head and Calvin had a hell'uva time not laughing his ass off at the look on her face. Grinned over at Jean a little, though, because he had to direct it somewhere. “That’s Fucker.”

"Guess she told you," Calvin stuck in, wearing that same grin and figuring he had maybe a little better than average chance of ducking anything like elbows or household objects that might come flying his way after. Hope to god she didn't decide to call it Ginger-Locks and The One Fucker, instead, though.

“Ginger-locks and the one Bearded Dragon?” Jean suggested instead and, yeah, that was better. Hope seemed to think so, too, since it got an, “Okay,” of agreement from that front. Wished to hell he could...shit, he didn't know. Maybe freeze this moment, too. Or stretch it out. So he could just sit here as long as he wanted to and watch Hope and Jean and listen to the sound of their voices.

Something else he'd store away. So he could pull it out on those days in the future he knew he'd need it. Need to be able to remember this. How it felt, how it looked, the sound of their voices right there together.

“Alright then.” Jean paused, tilting her head to one side, and smiling a little crookedly at her daughter, for no other reason than that she existed, and that she was sitting on her lap, and (unfortunate attempts at naming aside) she was happy. “You know Mommy has powers?” Jean asked then, waiting for Hope to look at her thoughtfully, and shift her head in what might have been the start of a nod. “She can move things with her brain, and speak to people inside their heads.”

“Like Rachel.” Hope piped up, getting a return agreement of, “Like Rachel,” from Jean.

“And poke them in the brain.” Their daughter stuck that in, because she sure as hell didn't seem like it was something she'd ever forget. They'd better hope she didn't inherit the telepathy end of the power spectrum, he mused, at least until she was past the age where she'd probably use it to run all around the helicarrier, poking at every damned brain she could find.

“And poke them in the brain,” Jean agreed again as Calvin chuckled and shook his head. “And your Fucker has powers too,” which was an understatement if he'd ever heard one. More damned powers than he'd ever wanted, but that was his own damned fault.

“And wings,” their daughter offered again, because god forbid the leave the source of her feather collection outta things.

Jeannie nodded as he let his hand stroke lightly up and down her arm, still watching the two've them. “Yes, he has them too now,” she agreed, glancing back to Calvin with a smile that for the moment, was his and only his and that took the breath right outta his chest. Smiled right back at her and reminded himself that doing anything but that right now would throw Hope's story all off track. “But he didn’t then. He just had his powers, and those mean that he can borrow other people’s powers, if they’re nearby,” she explained, and, shit, there came that look. The one that meant she was gonna have way too damned much fun with this, “He used to think that that made him very special.”

Hope turned her head halfway around to give him a curious, contemplative look and the bearded man let out another snort of amusement. Very damned special, huh?

"It did make me pretty damned special," he countered with a broad grin right back at Jean. "Special in the head, maybe, but I was still pretty special." He'd thought he was hot shit, that was for sure. Some've that, it was maybe what he'd been absorbing when he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, and didn't have any real control over it. Mostly, though, he'd just been a jackass.

"And then you met Mommy?" Hope asked curiously, looking from one've them to the other.

"And then I met your mother," Calvin confirmed, grin moving back to a smile as he looked from her to Jean. "She was pretty special, too." Wasn't teasing there, though, it was the damned truth. "Don't think she was all that thrilled with me, though."

To say the damned least. Couldn't really blame her, though, when he'd smacked her in the head and drug her off to a damned cave.
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Calvin was chuckling again, while she did her best to agree to Hope’s very insistent explanation of the key point of her powers. She’d missed that, so very much. Or maybe it was just that she’d missed ever knowing that he could do that, laugh like that at something that wasn’t himself showing someone else up. Jean wasn’t sure at this point whether either of those thoughts were more or less true than the other, but she wasn’t going to stop to wonder about that either.

She was going to enjoy it while it was here now, and she was going to get on with what she needed to be doing, which was to keep her story going.

Covering the all-important piece of background about ‘Fucker’ and his powers (and his wings, which, like brain poking, were quite obviously the most interesting parts of their powers for their daughter, which you had to suspect was because they were the ones she had use for), while his hand brushed up and down over her arm. Meeting his eyes and the smile he gave back to her when she turned to look at him again. Grinning a little (okay, a lot) more mischievously as she explained just how special he’d thought his powers made him.

She’d missed that snort too. Even if she remembered it from ten years ago too.

“It did make me pretty damned special," he countered with a broad grin right back at Jean. "Special in the head, maybe, but I was still pretty special.”

Jean quirked an eyebrow back at him, fighting a little with the smile that was tugging at her lips again because narrators were not supposed to start laughing, then giving up for long enough to flash another quick grin his way. “There is that,” she allowed.

“And then you met Mommy?" Hope asked curiously as she looked between them, the very most adorable thing Jean could remember seeing in either of her lives. It opened a brief ache, quickly suppressed, in her chest that she never gotten to see this before. That she’d never got to see Rachel like this, either, and…

“And then I met your mother," Calvin confirmed, with a smile on his face that made that ache seem a thousand million miles away again. “She was pretty special, too.” Which wasn’t exactly how Jean remembered his opinion of her coming across on that particular encounter, but she couldn’t have kept herself from returning that smile he was wearing if she’d been at all inclined to try. “Don’t think she was all that thrilled with me, though.”

“She isn’t usually, when people bump into her and spill her coffee all down her dress, tell her she should have looked where she was going, then push off without apologizing,” Jean declared, with a sarcasm that was mostly (but not completely) feigned. She’d liked that dress, and even Hank hadn’t been able to come up with a solution to get the coffee stain out.

Ah well, though. That was a long time ago, and there had been other dresses, and right now, there were plenty more parts of the story to tell. “Then I think he must have realized that Mommy has powers, and that he could use them too,” Jean continued, glancing toward Calvin for confirmation, because she’d never actually had that part from him in quite so many words. “So without saying anything to her, he followed her all the way home when she went to change her dress.” That part, he had boasted about when he’d turned up at the Mansion, so she was relatively sure she had that one right, and looked back down to Hope, smiling a little more all over again at the wide blue eyes that were hanging - if maybe still a little skeptically - on her words. “All the way back to where she used to live with all your uncles, who all have special powers too.”

“Uncle Asshat?” Hope asked immediately, and maybe she should have been able to predict that, but Jean still found herself blinking for a second before she recovered enough to shake her head.

“No, not him. Not then, anyway. But Uncle Bobby,” she said, which seemed to draw a mostly blank look from Hope, but this time, Jean had enough of her wits gathered to figure out exactly why that might be. Heaven forbid any of these men use actual names for each other. Sighing, and trying not to roll her eyes, she looked back once again to Calvin. “What do you have her calling Bobby?”

It had to be something.

“And when he got there,” Jean continued, drawing that out just a little for dramatic effect, corners of her mouth twitching upwards at the edges again as she did, “he walked right through the door, and he demanded to be part of their team.”

Or asked, technically. But it hadn’t felt very much like being asked, had it?
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Yeah, that'd sure as hell made him special all right. Maybe not special the way Red quite meant there, but special all the damned same. More like special in the head. No reason not to admit it at this point, wasn't like everybody hadn't figured that out by now.

That jumped up eyebrow look she sent his way didn't do a damned thing to stop him from grinning. Might've made it a little worse, even, since he could see her fighting trying not to smile a little herself.

She didn't quite win that battle, though, and there was that grin the just about stopped his heart in place. Right there, inches away. “There is that,” she allowed, just before Hope piped up again to remind them they were in the middle of a story. Or Jean was. He was just throwing in a few random observations along the way.

Yeah, that's when he'd met her mother, if you could call it a meeting, exactly. Gave Jean's shoulders another squeeze as she looked from him to Hope. She'd been pretty damned special, too. Still was, but they hadn't got off to much of a start that day and she sure wasn't too damned thrilled with him.

Couldn't blame her and nobody else had been, either.

“She isn’t usually, when people bump into her and spill her coffee all down her dress, tell her she should have looked where she was going, then push off without apologizing,” Jean declared and he was probably damned lucky she wasn't smacking him over the head with something handy, just for good measure. He was pretty sure she'd bumped into him, but saying that out loud sure as hell wouldn't have done him any good.

"I was looking forward to that cup of coffee," he told her instead, still grinning like a dumbass. That would probably get him smacked, too, but shit. Hadn't ever stopped him before, wouldn't now. Might've changed some, but not that much.

“Then I think he must have realized that Mommy has powers, and that he could use them too,” Jean continued, glancing toward Calvin for confirmation, and he nodded, rubbed his hand up and down her arm again. Yeah, that was exactly what he'd been thinking.

"Yeah, sorta figured that out when I started floating the sugar jar around off another table," Calvin confirmed with something closer to a half-smile. Now. Figured out who she was from that and decided he'd go prove he was the baddest asshole in town.

“So without saying anything to her, he followed her all the way home when she went to change her dress.” He'd been pretty damned proud of himself, too, figuring all that out and planting himself on the door of the damned X-Men. “All the way back to where she used to live with all your uncles, who all have special powers too.”

“Uncle Asshat?” Hope asked immediately and Calvin didn't quite manage to hold back the edge of a laugh that flew right out before he could stop it.

“No, not him. Not then, anyway. But Uncle Bobby,” Jean told their daughter, just getting a kinda 'no idea what you're talking about' look from Hope. Despite himself again, he grinned wider as Jean sighed and turned to him with a look that said she knew this was somehow his fault. “What do you have her calling Bobby?”

Still grinning, Calvin supplied, "Icedork. Drake's Uncle Icedork."

"He gave me M&Ms," Hope confirmed with a nod, satisfied now that she knew who they were talking about. "He's silly." And that proved she was a hell'uva lot smarter than him, since she knew that already.

“And when he got there,” Jean continued, drawing that out just a little for dramatic effect, corners of her mouth twitching upwards at the edges again as she did, “he walked right through the door, and he demanded to be part of their team.”

Little four year old blue eyes swung his away, narrowing like she was trying to figure him and that out. "Did they let you play?" she asked, like that was a great big, serious thing. Whether they'd let him play or not.

"Yeah, they said they'd let me play," Calvin assured her, free arm wrapping around his daughter to give her a little squeeze. "Even if I wasn't being too nice."

"Because you spilled stuff on Mommy's dress," Hope decided and he decided he'd leave it at that. She'd get plenty more from Jean. Jesus, he'd been a dumbass kid. Still was, in a lotta ways, but some've that had at least wore off. Or he hoped to hell it had.

"Had myself a new outfit for the occasion, too," he couldn't help but add, though, flashing a grin over to Jeannie again. Come down sporting new wings and powers and thinking he was hot shit. Mostly, he'd just looked like a moron.
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