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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 (316 Views)
Jean Grey
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Can kill you with her brain.
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No, no she hadn’t been too thrilled with Hope’s father, the first time she’d met him. Jean didn’t have to hesitate about that - she’d never made a habit of being thrilled with people who spilled utterly intractable coffee stains down her dress. Especially when they blamed it on her, and shoved off without so much as a half-hearted apology.

That part where she could hear him still thinking that it had been her fault, without the slightest need to resort to telepathy to do so, he might be provisionally forgiven for though. Just for the smile he was giving her right now, and the way it warmed something all the way through her chest. “I was looking forward to that cup of coffee," he told her instead, as she sent that grin right back at him, though with the added bonus of a mental image of exactly what she still thought she might have been better off doing with what had been left of that cup of coffee that day (namely, TKing it back down over his crotch).

That part didn’t need to be shared with their daughter though, not least because it would only confuse the narrative sense she was going for here, so instead Jean turned back to the main thrust of the story, and what she was assuming Calvin must have realized about her and her powers afterward. The nod confirmed it, the hand that ran along her arm was just a bonus, but a welcome one. “Yeah, sorta figured that out when I started floating the sugar jar around off another table,” he admitted, with a wry smile she could match with fellow-feeling.

She’d had to do more than a few ridiculous things at age sixteen to distract people from noticing similar incidents. Ridiculous, ridiculous things, that she was very glad to have finally got to have grown out of.

Alright, she’d still had to do some more not even a year ago, when Lorna had forgotten about the very important basic facts of fire hydrants, but there had been more at sixteen.

Leaving that part out too, Jean carried on with her story, and the way Calvin had followed her all the way home from the Village when she’d went to change her dress, looking back down at her daughter as she got to the part about where it was she’d been living, with all her boys that already it seemed natural to call the Uncles.

Except ‘Uncle Asshat' (and thinking of Forge as an uncle to any child of hers was going to take quite a while longer to fit inside her head, but Calvin was laughing, and she’d… well, she’d just have to make her peace with that). Not him - not then, anyway - but Uncle Bobby had been there, and Hope had met him last night, hadn’t she? He’d been thinking of going to see her, she remembered that, but the blank look on her daughter’s face almost had Jean doubting that for a moment before the right set of synapses fired to put two and two together to add up to the inevitable ridiculous (and theoretically not meant for small children’s ears) nickname Calvin would have to have Hope calling Bobby already.

It had to be something. Yes, there was that grin - she knew that grin - so all there was to do was to sigh and to ask him exactly what it was.

“Icedork. Drake's Uncle Icedork.”

Sigh again. She should have guessed, shouldn’t she? At least Hope wasn’t looking confused anymore, though that was maybe somewhat Dutch comfort. “He gave me M&Ms," Hope confirmed with a nod, "He's silly.”

One night, and Bobby was already trying to teach her daughter to take candy from strangers? Grinning softly, Jean nodded back at the little girl. “Yes, he is,” she agreed, before leaning in a little, dropping her voice into a faux-whisper that was even more fond than the smile had been as she added, “But so is your Fucker, you know.” Not much of a secret, and if he’d managed to keep it from Hope this long, he was only setting himself up for future awkwardness, so she’d be doing him a favor by letting her in on it.

Case in point, when he’d gotten to the Mansion, he’d walked right on in the door, and demanded to be made a part of the team. He could remember it like asking, if he wanted - and by the most generous standards, maybe it had been - but she had a feeling they’d all, even him, known better than that.

Hope, however, seemed to think this was information that was deserving of some very intent scrutiny, narrowing her little blue eyes very thoughtfully at her father. “Did they let you play?" she asked as though she might have been concerned that they were nasty playground bullies who didn’t want to let him into their clique.

…actually… okay, perhaps she might not have been so far off on that. Except for the two parts, where they had let him, and where he really pretty obviously hadn’t done much to deserve it.

“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.”

Mmmhhmm, Jean agreed to herself, nodding once with lips that might have been tight from sanctimonious sentiments, had she not been too busy holding them tight against the urge to smile widely. “You were being nice by your standards,” she pointed out with some amusement. “At least for the first five minutes.”

“Because you spilled stuff on Mommy's dress," Hope suggested, which Jean grinned about, then shook her head quickly. “Because he wanted something from them.”

“Had myself a new outfit for the occasion, too,” Calvin informed them, possibly in a deliberate attempt to change the subject. Though if he thought that was going to get him out of the embarrassing side of Memory Lane, Jean was only too happy to disabuse him of that notion with a roll of still-smiling eyes.

“Oh god,” she declared, not entirely seriously. A little seriously though, because that orange thing with the red Speedo had been awful, even by their terrible standards of a decade ago. “I’m not really sure your father should be allowed to dress himself, Hope. Look what he’s done today,” Jean informed her daughter, freeing one so she could run it along the line of his thigh, which someone had turned out in orange all over again. It did look better than she remembered though, so there was that.

There was also the look Hope was giving back to her now though, the one that started at her face, and turned more and more dubious as it dropped down to take in the panels of green and purple her own new stealthsuit had been made over into. Lips twitching together, Jean heaved a semi-reluctant nod. “That is a very good point,” she admitted, “but I’m dressed as Aunt Lorna for Halloween, so it can’t really be helped.”

It was clearly different.

“Did you play with Fucker, Mummy?” Hope asked her though, showing a very un-Jean-Grey like ability to put aside matters of fashion when there were other matters on hand.

Lifting her eyes back to Calvin for a moment, Jean sent him the shadow of a smile before composing her face back into something like a serious expression and looking back at their daughter. “I tried to,” she declared, then lost the battle with another wry grin. “Right up until the moment when he hit me over the head and stuffed me under his arm like a man-purse.”

Reaching around Hope, and squeezing Calvin’s thigh briefly again with one hand as it made its way by, she mimed some appropriate action gestures for that. It seemed kind of like a necessary addition.
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Mimic
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Yeah, fuck. Busted.

Not like it was the first time, though. Or that it'd be the last. That being the way his life worked in general, Calvin just grinned and admitted that, no, Drake hadn't got off without a name of his own. Uncle Icedork, to be exact.

That got him another sigh from Jean - not the first one've those, either, and didn't wanna think about whether it'd be the last or not - as Hope jumped in, now that she knew who they were talking about so she could tell her mother that Uncle Icedork gave her M&Ms. And that he was silly. Which wasn't exactly a surprise to anybody, especially Jeannie.

“Yes, he is,” [Jean] agreed, with a nod before she leaned in like she was about to tell Hope some kind of secret. Not really keeping it quiet enough to actually be one, though, “But so is your Fucker, you know.” That sure as hell wasn't a secret to much of anybody, either. Got him a serious, considering look from his daughter, though. Then she turned back to her mother with a nod that was just as serious, too.

"I know," she whispered back not very damned quietly, either, leaning in toward Jean. "He thought Bear was a boy." Jesus. It was all he could do to keep it down to a quiet chuckle. Yeah that was a pretty horrible damned transgression, apparently.

Calvin managed, though, as Jean went on to tell her about how he'd followed her back to the mansion and asked - or demanded, since that was a hell'uva lot closer to what it'd actually been - to join the team. Yeah, he assured Hope, they'd let him play. Even if he'd been a jackass.

No surprise Jean was nodding, lips pressed tight. Even if he was pretty sure they weren't doing that because she was remembering how pissed off she'd been at the time. Not just that, anyway. One look at those green eyes told him she was trying not to smile, or maybe grin like hell at the damned mess he'd been then.

“You were being nice by your standards,” she pointed out with some amusement. “At least for the first five minutes.” Which was about his limit and it wasn't all just because he'd spilled coffee on Jean's dress, like their little girl thought.

]“Because he wanted something from them.” Jeannie didn't have any problem pointing that out and he just grinned. Shit, might as well own it. He was just enough of a dumbass to be wanting the wrong thing.

He'd had his own damned new outfit for the occasion, though. One he'd been stupid enough to be proud of at the time, but just made him wonder what they hell he was thinking looking back. He'd looked like a damned circus act, and that was compared to people who were already running around in damned spandex with their underwear on the outside.

Wasn't a surprise to see Red rolling her eyes around in her head. Yeah, yeah, might as well get that damned part over with. He knew he wasn't getting out of it regardless.

“Oh god,” she declared, not entirely seriously. A little seriously though, because that orange thing with the red Speedo had been awful, even by their terrible standards of a decade ago. “I’m not really sure your father should be allowed to dress himself, Hope. Look what he’s done today,” slender fingers ran along his thigh and, right then, Calvin wouldn't have gave a shit if he'd been dressed in neon pink. Not if it'd keep her doing that.

All the same,he felt obliged to grumble, though not even a little seriously, "This one wasn't my damned idea." Not that she'd believe it for a minute, even if it was true. "'Least it's not paisley. You should've seen Forge." Guess she would before long. She was definitely in for a sight there.

Hope was looking him over seriously, then turned to her mother, doing the same and Calvin could practically the wheels turning in that little head. She didn't look too damned impressed with either of them.

“That is a very good point,” Jean admitted as he couldn't help but shoot her a grin that was probably more than a little damned smug. Just like he couldn't stop himself from tightening that arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer, “but I’m dressed as Aunt Lorna for Halloween, so it can’t really be helped.”

"Uh-huh," one brow lifted up dubiously, dark brown eyes amused as he looked over at her. "Little early for that, aren't you?" If it made her feel better, she could keep believing it, though. He was just glad to see her hair back to red instead've that damned green. Hope was shooting a questioning look between them, looking a little confused, and Calvin added to her, "I'll tell you all about your Aunt Lorna later, okay?"

That seemed to satisfy her and she turned back to Jean to ask if she'd played with him and, shit, here it came. He remembered this part way too damned well, no matter how many times he'd had it wiped outta his head or just plain tried like hell to forget it.

And there was another look that was probably trouble, but that he wouldn't complain about in a million years. Jean,looking over at him with that ghost of a smile. One that he sent right back, despite knowing he was probably gonna want to crawl under a rock in a minute or two.

“I tried to,” she declared, then lost the battle with another wry grin as he let out another soft, more than a little skeptical snort. Tried to beat his ass along with the other X-Men was more like it, but he sure as hell couldn't blame her. “Right up until the moment when he hit me over the head and stuffed me under his arm like a man-purse.”

Jesus. Fuck, yeah, there it was and Calvin groaned again, scrubbing a hand over his face. Man purse. Holy shit. He couldn't even argue, 'cause that was pretty much exactly what he'd fucking done. Grabbed her, tucked her under his arm, threw her in his car and drove off.

There was giggling from Hope and that was a nice enough sound it made even that kinda idiocy almost bearable. The way Jean hand felt on his thigh, that little squeeze that went with it, that didn't hurt at all, either. Still, Calvin couldn't help sending some kinda attempt at a glare her way, just for the hell of it and for the damned demonstration she'd been trying to give. Didn't come close even to being serious and didn't stay there more than a second before a wry grin took it's place.

"I could've picked a lot worse things to run off with," he pointed out, giving her another light squeeze.

"You're not supposed to hit," Hope informed him, apparently recovered enough from the idea of him using her mother for a purse to catch up with that. "That's not playing nice."

Turning that wry smile on his daughter, he nodded in agreement. "No, it's not, but I was young and stupid. So I did stupid things sometimes." Then, since they were getting there anyway, he grinned back over at Jeannie and added, "At least I took you back to my man cave. Even gave you a room. So I dunno what you're complaining about."

Or, hell, yes he did, but he said it anyway. Probably gonna get something in his head this time worse than the idea of hot coffee dropped on his crotch.
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Jean Grey
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Oh god, that old ‘new outfit’, and its orange, with white suspenders. Oh god, and the red speedo, which she’d mercifully very nearly forgotten about, until right just now, when Calvin had brought it all up again. She should probably tell Hope now, because her daughter would certainly need to know, and as soon as possible, that her father couldn’t be trusted to dress himself.

Even if the return to orange that he’d somehow decided to go with today did seem an awful lot better than she remembered, making the hand that she ran down the heavy muscle in his thigh seem no more than natural,

“This one wasn't my damned idea,” he grumbled, about as seriously as she’d been in bemoaning the thing in the first place, but with what Jean was choosing to see as far less truth. Who but him would willingly choose to wear orange? Blob, maybe. She thought she remembered Blob wearing orange. “‘Least it's not paisley. You should've seen Forge,” he added, which Jean decided not to deign to answer.

Mostly because she was hoping that the ring of truth that had been in his mind when he’d said that were just her imagination. Paisley?

Christ.

Not surprisingly (at least to Jean), Hope was looking distinctly dubious at this poor excuse for an excuse, giving her father the once over, then turning back to her, and…

…wait. No. Why was she giving her the same look now?

Belatedly, Jean recalled the skin-tight confection of green and purple she’d somehow convinced herself was as necessary as the green hair she’d had Rachel put on a temporary reprieve, and dropped her own gaze down to the stealthsuit with a guilty look. Silent, she might be, but Hope had definitely made a very good point (and no matter that it had made Calvin smile, because that smug or not, it was a very good look on him), and as she was pulled gently against the broad orange chest (oh god, they were going to look like some horrible pumpkin now, weren’t they?) Jean had to nod, sighing, and acknowledge as much.

She was dressed like Hope’s Aunt Lorna, who should have been able to get the chance to meet her and dote all over her and confuse the hell out of her, for Halloween. That was clear and apparent, and it really couldn’t be helped.

“Uh-huh,” said Calvin, but she wasn’t going to look at him. No. Really no, not with that sound of amusement in his voice, that Jean knew would have ruined her straight face entirely if she’d turned to see the look she knew had to be accompanying it. “Little early for that, aren't you?”

Halloween? Maybe, but…

…but the look Hope was turning up at her, then onto her father when the words to answer it died all away on Jean’s tongue, froze something all over again. Aunt Lorna. Her daughter wanted to know about her Aunt Lorna, and… and…

“I’ll tell you all about your Aunt Lorna later, okay?” Calvin interposed, rescuing the moment by apparently satisfying Hope, and buying Jean enough time to shake her thoughts out (not even letting herself consider for a moment about that unspecified ‘later’ she wouldn’t get to be a part of), and to find the focus she needed from watching the way the next thoughts seemed to turn slowly over under the little girl’s red hair, finding a new question to latch onto.

A question that was much, much, much easier to smile to, especially when Calvin returned it, even while clearly steeling himself for the only thing that could really come next. Had she played with him, that day?

Well, she’d tried to. Within allowable definitions of Danger Room sparring, anyway, and never mind that snort he was trying to use to screen himself from the inevitable. Yes, she’d played with him, up until the point where he’d hit her over the head and tucked her under his arm. Like a purse. A man-purse, if he insisted on that, but the general point of being treated as a satchel, or maybe a rolled up newspaper, that was definitely the important point here, and definitely needed to be explained with hand gestures.

Yes, of course he could glare at her if he wanted, but glares - especially ones with nothing like actual heat or fire behind them - weren’t about to change the basic facts on hand. Nor was the grin that followed quickly, of course, but that Jean met with one of her own, relaxing into the circle of his arm as it closed a little tighter around her for a moment. “I could've picked a lot worse things to run off with," he pointed out, and though that was true, and also practically begged to be targeted for wryness and dryness about ‘Uncle Icedork’, Jean’s lips stayed closed, except for the smile that was for him, and the way Hope was still giggling at the idea.

Or had been. She was still again, and quieter, looking back to her father. ”You’re not supposed to hit," [she] informed him, "That's not playing nice.”

Neither was repurposing a person as an arm accessory, Jean almost pointed out, but Calvin had it in hand with another smile that brought her hand down to his leg once more, just to have a little more contact. “No, it's not, but I was young and stupid. So I did stupid things sometimes." Then, since they were getting there anyway, he grinned back over at Jeannie and added, "At least I took you back to my man cave. Even gave you a room. So I dunno what you're complaining about.”

Jean didn’t need to hesitate. “The smell,” she retorted, with a faux-haughty look that had no chance of really covering up the answering smile that was rising up to meet his.

“Why did you steal Mommy?” Hope asked next, turning wide blue eyes on her father with the same kind of surprising intensity that had made Jean think for a moment of her own mother when the little girl had being insisting on the silliness of father’s who couldn’t tell the sex of a stuffed bear. Made something in her heart ache a little all over again, in fact, but she pushed that aside for now, and found herself a wry smile all over again.

“Not because he wanted her,” she explained to her daughter, a smile trying to tug her back into sneaking another look at Calvin. “He just wanted the Uncles, and he knew they’d all follow if he took her.” That seemed to confuse Hope a little all over again, and not surprisingly, really, but Jean only wrinkled her nose and shook her head to encourage the little girl to let the obvious question go. “Uncles are all silly.” Maybe that was what she should have led with, come to think of it, though it wasn’t really the whole of it, was it? “Like Fuckers,” she added, with emphasis, then turned her eyes back up to Calvin.

“Guess you’d better explain the next part, huh?”

Because Christ knew even if she’d had her telepathy at the time, she didn’t think she’d have been able to really explain whatever it was that had been going through his head.
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Mimic
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Yeah, well, she could believe him or not when it came to fucking paisley Forge. She'd get an eyeful soon enough, once they all got to the round of meetings that was probably gonna eat a good part've the morning.

Meetings Calvin didn't wanna think about just now, because it'd mean an end to this. This little piece of time they'd managed to carve out for the three of them. The one that wouldn't - couldn't - last forever. No matter how damned much he might want it to. And he wanted that more than he'd probably ever wanted anything in his whole, useless life.

So he didn't think about it. Not yet. Not any more than he had to, going back instead to Jeannie's costume that wasn't hers but a pretty damned good copy of Lorna Dane's. Then he was busy trying to distract Hope a little from asking too much about her Aunt Lorna right now.

Later, he'd tell her all about Polaris. When Jean didn't have to sit there, stiffening up from what he knew had to be memories that weren't anything but good. Back in that other world, he was pretty sure Lorna Dane was still alive and well. Here, though-

Yeah, fuck, just another person his Jean'd lost here. Not something she oughta have to think about right now, though he knew she would. So, later. Later, when it couldn't hurt her mother the way he knew it would, he'd tell their daughter all about Lorna, knowing the whole time it was something her mother would wish she could do herself. That he damned well wished she could, too, for that matter.

Pulled Jean a little closer, just because he could as they got back to telling Hope how her father, the dumbass, met her mother. Then knocked her over the head like an idiot and ran off with her. Well, hell, that part wasn't such a bad idea, really. It'd have all been worth it just for that smile she was giving him right now as Hope started giggling. And damned if that wasn't one've the best sounds he'd ever heard, too.

Right up until their four and a half year old daughter started scolding him for not playing nice and hitting people and he sure as hell couldn't stop himself from chuckling at that. 'Least Hope already knew at four what it'd taken him twenty something damned years to figure out. Proved she had her mothers brains, right along with her mother's smile. Couldn't argue with her one bit, but he could reach down with his free hand, resting it over Jean's where it had landed there against his thigh.

Having a good grip on her when he told her she didn't have anything to complain about when he carried his new 'man purse' back to his 'man cave' might not be a bad idea. Hell, he even gave her a room. If he'd had any sense, he'd have kept her there and fuck the other four, or five if you counted Xavier tagging along.

Didn't even miss a beat, though, before she threw right back at him, “The smell,” With a look that said her delicate damned sensibilities had been offended, and he tried like hell to glare at her again with about the same amount of success. Ended up a smile instead and the one she gave back to him had him thinking about doing something stupid again. But that shouldn't be a surprise to anybody, he'd practically made a career of it.

“Why did you steal Mommy?” Hope asked next managing to wedge that in there right before he actually would've done something stupid, like kiss her mother until neither one've them could see straight.

“Not because he wanted her,” Jean explained before he could get anything else in there. And, yeah, hell he couldn't even argue with that. He was even more of a dumbass back then and all he could do was shoot her a lopsided, bemused grin right back to Jean when she looked his way. “He just wanted the Uncles, and he knew they’d all follow if he took her.” Didn't surprise him a bit when Hope looked confused as hell. Shit, even he couldn't make much sense of it now, and he'd been the one doing it back then. Jeannie just wrinkled her nose at their daughter, though, and gave her the only explanation there really was for any've it. “Uncles are all silly.” Which was the damned truth, especially those particular uncles. “Like Fuckers,” she added looking right back at him again.

"Hell, even I can't argue with that. Too much," he added, grin twitching higher and lifting his hand long enough to brush the side of his thumb lightly over her cheek again. Couldn't damned well help it when she was looking at him and smiling, with Hope nodding seriously there on her mother's lap like that was the damned wisdom of the ages.

“Guess you’d better explain the next part, huh?” Well, shit, dump it right on him why didn't she? Who's idea was this again?

"Oh yeah, make me do it," he grumbled not even a little bit seriously, though he gave it at least half a try. Then there was a little finger poking at his shoulder.

"Tellllll," Hope instructed him, the grinned and let out a mischievous giggle and tried to stick that damned feather she was still holding in his ear. Or, alright, she was probably trying to tickle him but it amounted to the same thing.

With a surprised, sorta strangled noise, Calvin tried to fend her off. Didn't try too hard, though, as he did what he could to push the feather away from his ear, where she was determinedly poking. "Hey, hey. How'm I supposed to tell the story with that sticking in my ear."

Giving him a look like he might've just fell off the nearest turnip truck, Hope shook her head, "I'm tickling," she explained patiently and then looked at her mother with an expression that was about thirty years too old for her. "He is silly," Hope agreed. Yeah, yeah, he was silly . Now everybody was on the same page at least.

She decided to give him a break with the feather, at least, and Calvin settled back, looking from Hope to Jean and back again. "Lemme see, where were we?"

"You stole Mommy," their daughter pointed out and, alright, he'd give her that one.

"Yeah, I stole Mommy, and put her in a perfectly good room," he added with a pointed, still amused, damned look to the Mommy in question. "Then I waited for all your Uncles to come running after her," hauling Xavier and his damned wheelchair right along with them. "Uncle Icedork, and Uncle Super Chicken, and Uncle Stick Up The Ass, and Uncle-" Shit, what could he call Hank? "Big Words," Calvin settled on. It'd have to do. "See, I needed their powers to get to this machine my dad built. He was a scientist," the winged man added. Hell, he hadn't thought of this shit in years, or Ronald Rankin, either.

"He was smart," what he'd definitely decided was the cutest damned little girl in the world broke in, and he kinda had to wonder if there wasn't something in there that didn't get said about smart compared to who. Probably he didn't wanna know, so he just nodded and grinned a little over at Jean again, giving her another squeeze.

"He was real smart. And he'd built this machine that was supposed to have let me keep all the powers I copied for as long as I wanted." It'd sounded like a good idea at the time, but fuck if it'd been anything even close. "But it was buried behind a bunch've rocks and I couldn't get to it without your Uncle's powers."

Hope gave him a scrutinizing look. "You stole their powers?"

Who the hell knew a four year old could make you feel sheepish, but damned if that didn't do it. "Yeah, when they got close, I borrowed them at least. Then I used them to get to my dad's machine. They didn't want me to, so they were trying to stop me."

That had her looking thoughtful and Hope reached out to touch one've his wings, though at least this time she didn't start yanking anything off. Then she looked back to her mother and decided, "But they didn't, 'cause he stole all the Uncles powers and got wings."

Like she'd jumped right to the end, cause that was all she needed to figure it out. Hell, it wasn't a bad guess, either. Even if it hadn't worked quite that way.
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Jean Grey
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She would very much have liked to kiss that smile. Not a sensible thing to do though, and not even really a possible one when you were balancing a four year old daughter on your lap. Especially a four year old daughter who knew very well that they were only in the middle of her story, and wasn’t going to be shy about demanding that parents kept the pace moving, delivering the information she wanted to know.

In this case, why on earth her father might have wanted to steal her mother like a handbag. And that was a very good question, especially since whatever Calvin might have been about to claim after the fact, it hadn’t really had anything to do with Mommy at all. What he’d wanted at the time had been the Uncles, and the Professor - or at least their powers - and all she’d been was the piece of bait that had lured him to that ridiculous mine that his father (for god knew what reason) had decided to build a lab inside.

Yes… well. Hope probably should be confused, after that explanation, but it was easily cleared up by a simple explanation that Uncles were silly. Just like Fuckers were silly.

Yes. See, that smile. There it was again, and the seeing it more wasn’t making resisting that urge any easier. “Hell, even I can't argue with that. Too much," he added, but it wasn’t argument he followed that declaration with. Only a soft brushing movement of his thumb down the line of her cheek

Jean felt her eyes flutter closed for a moment, perilously aware of the gentle touch, then let her breath out slowly before she spoke again to point out the oversight. “That’s not really arguing.” Just like what she was doing right now really wasn’t anything like complaining.

At least the business of considering (and quickly agreeing) with the contention that Uncles and Fuckers were silly had kept Hope occupied for long enough this time that Jean had managed to stow the thoughts and urges there really wasn’t a way to act on safely enough to carry on.

She gave Calvin the next part to explain though. He’d earned it.

“Oh yeah, make me do it,” he grumbled, like he hadn’t been the one hitting people on the head and kidnapping them and trying to make off with their powers. Or really not like it at all, because that was just about the least convincing fake grumble Jean could remember seeing in her life. He wanted to. Really he did - though of course she was going to be sitting right here, hand on his thigh and covered by his, ready to jump in if he should decide to get a little silly over the important details.

“Tellllll,” Hope instructed him, then grinned and let out a mischievous giggle reaching around and doing her best (which was quite a good best) to stuff the feather she was holding down Calvin’s ear. His attempts to avoid that, and the protest that accompanied them regarding compromised story-telling ability were neither of them particularly determined, and they certainly failed to make any impression at all on the little girl. Hope only treated him to a ‘patient’ look, shaking her head and informing him that she was ‘tickling’.

Then it was Jean’s turn to receive a look, though this one she liked to think was far more conspiratorial. “He is silly,” said Hope.

“Very silly,” Jean agreed, nodding solemnly, before giving in to a sudden impulse that flashed into her mind too quickly to resist, and turning her head around till she could softly blow a light breath of air across the top of his other ear, ruffling the shaggy edges of the hair he’d tried to stuff behind it.

“Lemme see, where were we?” he asked, as though he didn’t know, but never mind, because Hope was ready to supply him with the key detail of where they’d left off, so he couldn’t stall like that for any longer. “Yeah, I stole Mommy, and put her in a perfectly good room," he added with a pointed, still amused, damned look to the Mommy in question, while said Mommy arched both eyebrows back at him, lips quivering a little. Not going to laugh. She wasn’t going to laugh. “Then I waited for all your Uncles to come running after her,” which of course they had, inconvenient boys they’d been, “Uncle Icedork, and Uncle Super Chicken, and Uncle Stick Up The Ass, and Uncle-“ Hank seemed to be giving him trouble, didn’t he? “Big Words," Calvin settled on.

“Uncle Cookie Monster,” Jean suggested, smiling at the serious way Hope seemed to be taking and storing all those names for future reference. Not that Hank had been blue at the time, of course, but if she didn’t think about it carefully, it was hard to remember that detail. Somehow almost all her memories of him had become fur-covered and tinted with blue whenever she didn’t stop to remind herself of the timeline.

And most of those Uncles…

…but she wouldn’t let herself finish that thought. Not right now. She’d just hug Hope a little tighter, glad of the way the little girl accepted that without surprise or question, and let her gaze drift just between her daughter and her daughter’s father, watching them as they kept their attention on the story. The machine - that odd machine that Calvin’s father (a scientist) had built down the bottom of an old, unstable mine shaft.

Geological engineering oversights aside, he’d been smart, just like Hope had guessed (at least her old life hadn’t seemed to sour her on the general idea of scientists, which was probably going to be a good thing, given how many of them her new one contained). That was obvious, even if the only details of the man himself Jean had ever heard seemed to be faded memories leavened with hearsay. And he’d built that machine, and lied about its purpose to Calvin - or at least allowed him to form his own impression about what it was supposed to do… but like his son was saying now, it had been lost along with him, buried behind the rocks that had fallen on the (poorly planned - yes, it was probably not a good quality in her that she couldn’t let that go about the man’s tragic death, but there it was) laboratory site.

And of course, because of that, Calvin hadn’t thought he could get to it without luring a group of super-powered teenagers and one crippled telepath into the mine, so he could take their powers and use it to find it.

“You stole their powers?” a thoughtful Hope queried, cutting right to the guts of the matter, or at least skipping over all the parts that didn’t immediately interest her, in a way that couldn’t help but remind Jean of a tiny, happier version of her own mother, who also always knew just where to prod exactly when you were trying to ease around a tender spot.

“Yeah, when they got close, I borrowed them at least. Then I used them to get to my dad's machine. They didn't want me to, so they were trying to stop me,” Calvin explained, looking a little sheepish for having to admit that.

Hope considered that information too, and one of her father’s wings along with it, fingering it lightly like she were weighing some difficult problem inside her mind. “But they didn't, 'cause he stole all the Uncles powers and got wings,” she summarized in a concise, Elaine Grey writ-small fashion, looking to Jean with almost as little query in her expression as her mother tended to when jumping ahead to whatever conclusions had occurred to her.

Jean smiled, but shook her head softly back at her daughter. “Not just then.” A quick turn of her head to Calvin, and a brief smile for little more reason than the fact that looking at him seemed to provide all the reasons she might ever have needed to smile, then the red-haired woman continued, gathering her daughter in close once more. “You see, your Grandpa Rankin was much, much smarter than that,” she explained. “He knew just how silly having other people’s powers was making your father, and it made him sad. So when Daddy-“

“-Fucker,” Hope interjected, still obviously well ahead of any attempts to bring an alternative to that designation into her vocabulary.

Jean stifled a passing urge to sigh with another smile, then nodded, and corrected herself as smoothly as she could “-when your Fucker found that machine, he started it up, and put himself in it. But it didn’t do what he’d thought it was going to,” she told her little girl, watching her eyes change into widening surprise, and turn up quickly to her father. “Instead it stopped all his powers all at once, so he couldn’t ‘borrow’ other people’s any more.”

More or less that, anyway, the way she remembered it.
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Now that he'd been tickled and cute-ed into submission, might as well get his ass on with it, Calvin decided as his daughter informed her mother that he really was silly. Yeah, she'd pretty much figured that one out years ago. Not long after he'd spilled that coffee all over.

“Very silly,” Jean agreed, nodding solemnly and what was she - oh Jesus. She turned his way and a soft gust of breath blew across his ear and scattered what was left of his brain to hell and back. Damned if that didn't make him want to do a hell'uva lot more than kiss her, but he managed to get a damned grip, even if it was a near thing.

Then it took him a second or two to find the thoughts she'd blown right outta him, but Hope decided to help him out and he got it. He'd stole Mommy and lured the Uncles - Icedork, Super Chicken, Stick Up The Ass and, well shit. Had a little trouble coming up with something for McCoy, but he supposed Big Words would do.

Or not.

“Uncle Cookie Monster,” Jean suggested even if McCoy hadn't been blue yet then, as Hope drank it all in like it was gospel. Made him wonder how many times he'd be repeating it all over the next years. When she asked for the story about how he stole Mommy, because he could already hear that question in his head. On those nights when she remembered this little bit of time in this day with the mother she should've got to have more time with. And he knew he'd tell it, however many times she asked.

So now would just be the first of what he knew would probably be a lotta story times and Calvin did the best he could to put that whole mess into words a not quite five year old little girl would understand. About how he lured the other X-Men, her Uncles, there to steal their powers again so he could get to the machine his dad had build. Tried to ignore that thought floating around in Jean's head big enough it oughta had a neon sign stuck to it. Shot a knowing grin over at her all the same real quick. Yeah, like father like son, he guessed. His old man had meant well, at least. couldn't always say the same for himself.

Never really had mourned his father, maybe hadn't much felt a need to. Too busy being an asshole and trying to grab all the power he could so he could be above everybody else. He'd have been crazy about this little girl, though. He knew and remembered that much about Ronald Rankin, and had a brief pang of regret that he'd never be part of her life, either, other than in stories.

So, yeah, he'd maybe not stole their powers, at least not that time, but he'd borrowed them. So he could get to that machine, while they tried to stop him.

Bright kid that she was, Hope jumped in to make her own ending as she fingered a few've his feathers thoughtfully. Then decided they hadn't stopped him, because he'd got the wings and all the rest've the powers.

Jeannie just smiled and shook her head, jumping in before he had to figure out how to explain that one. “Not just then.” That smile came back his way and he couldn't help smiling back. Still wanted to kiss her, wanted it so damned bad he could taste it and shoulds or shouldn'ts be damned, but he managed to hold out still. And she turned back to Hope, that moment slipping away again as she pulled their daughter in closer. “You see, your Grandpa Rankin was much, much smarter than that,” she explained and the winged man let out a low chuckle. Damned good thing, but he sure as hell hadn't inherited that. “He knew just how silly having other people’s powers was making your father, and it made him sad. So when Daddy-“

“-Fucker,” Hope interjected, not letting that go one damned bit. Calvin just let out a resigned half-sigh and shook his head, shooting a brief, wry grin over to Red. Might as well learn to live with it. He knew when he was beat.

Jean recovered fast, though. A lot better than he usually managed. “-when your Fucker found that machine, he started it up, and put himself in it. But it didn’t do what he’d thought it was going to,” she told her little girl, watching her eyes change into widening surprise, and turn up quickly to her father. “Instead it stopped all his powers all at once, so he couldn’t ‘borrow’ other people’s any more.”

Hope looked like she wasn't much sure about that. "You didn't get any more powers?" she asked, little brows pulling together and giving his wings another look. Yeah, she wasn't much buying that.

"Not just then," he told her with a shake of his head and reaching over to tap her nose lightly with one finger, making her wrinkle it at him. "Matter of fact, I didn't even remember I'd had powers anymore." No point getting into why that was right now. Or bringing up Xavier, especially with the mess he knew that man was still alive and and making of everybody's lives still back in the world Jean really belonged to. Alright, maybe that wasn't entirely fair, but still. No damned reason to make it more confusing for Hope with crazy Grampa X memory wiping and shit.

"Far as I knew, I was just a normal guy again. I went back to school, like I'd been doing before," he finished, looking over at Jean again and leaning over enough to plant a kiss on that red, red hair. Just for the hell of it.

Hope, though, she was looking between the two've them like she suspected they were holding out on her. "But you got powers," she insisted, reaching out to poke at his wings. "Did you give Mommy back?" Hope added, like that was a worse idea even than not having powers.

"Yeah, I gave her back," he confirmed with a grin and a squeeze of Jean's shoulder again, "That time. And I did get powers again, but that was later on and a whole other story. Probably for another time." Much as he didn't wanna admit that, either. If he had his way, he'd sit here the rest've the day, just doing this, and say to hell with the rest.

Didn't stop Hope from turning to Jean, though, with those big blue eyes and a hopeful, slightly pouty little, "Wanna hear now. Pleaasse?"

Oh Jesus. He hoped to hell Jean had some immunity to that, 'cause he was a dead man.
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There really had been no point in trying again, had there?

Calvin’s nearly-sigh said it all, as well as anything could. Fucker he was, and Fucker he would be, as long as Hope had any say in the matter. And seeing as it was very obvious that she had all the say in this (or quite possibly any other matter) where her father was concerned, the only thing to be done was to concede the point to the little girl as gracefully as possible, and go along with her correction.

Her ‘Fucker’ had started up that machine, after all, only when he had, it hadn’t worked like he’d thought. In fact, it had taken all his powers away entirely. At least for a time.

Or had it? The thought flashed into Jean’s mind, but she suppressed it just as quickly. This wasn’t a time for wondering about that new suspicion, or any like it, so she’d just go with what she remembered, which was that Calvin had had all his powers removed that day, because of his father’s machine.

Though, yes, she probably did deserve that sceptical look she was getting from a four year old. After all, they were both sitting curled up against a Calvin whose wings (and hands, though less obviously) very clearly demonstrated that he not only still had powers, but at least some of the ones he’d been trying to permanently acquire that day.

“You didn't get any more powers?” Hope asked, looking over the wings as though she were considering the chances that they might disappear if she blinked.

Of course they didn’t, and Calvin lifted one hand as he shook his head, tapping her nose with one finger. “Not just then," he told her, while their daughter’s little nose wrinkled, and made something melt into an ache in Jean’s heart all over again. “Matter of fact, I didn't even remember I'd had powers anymore,” he continued, adding the part she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to mention.

Not dwelling on it though. “Far as I knew, I was just a normal guy again. I went back to school, like I'd been doing before," he finished, moving on and moving in. Jean felt the press of his lips against her hair, and couldn’t help but smile all over again.

Back to school, though? “Was that what you were doing?” she asked, trying for sarcastic and knowing, but only managing to find fondness in her voice when she did.

“But you got powers," [Hope] insisted, once again showing an Elaine-like tendency to hit right on the weak point in an argument and poke at it mercilessly. In this case, accompanied by some literal poking of the telltale wings that probably did seem to call them both liars. Though apparently that wasn’t the end of her troubles with the finish of the story. ”Did you give Mommy back?" [she] added, apparently displeased by this resolution.


“Yeah, I gave her back," he confirmed with a grin and a squeeze of Jean's shoulder again, while Jean shot a wry look back at him for his trouble.

“Mommy gave herself back,” she corrected. By the end of all of that, she’d been heartily sick of featuring as some kind of moveable object for boys to shift around and try to claim for rescue, she could still remember that very well.

For all the good it would do her, when Calvin was there, and grinning like that. It did make it kind of hard to hold on to the memory of indignation, which really wasn’t fair at all, especially when it was doing such a good job of pulling up the other memories, of why maybe not being back, whether taken or given, hadn’t been such a bad thing.

“That time. And I did get powers again, but that was later on and a whole other story. Probably for another time."

Jean arched an eyebrow once again. Had he thought, even for a second, that that kind of light brush off was going to work on her daughter?

Sure enough, there went Hope, turning to look at her, with wide, wide blue eyes that combined expectation and a hinted threat of quivering disappointment hanging just behind it. It was a look that finally made Jean realize what her father had been sighing to her about for all these years for having used on him.

God, she wanted to be able to speak to him again to apologize for that now. Or to share in every bit of smiling she knew he’d be doing when she told him about it, and about Hope. Wanted it so much that she’d bitten a little into the inside of her lip before she realized.

Christ.

”Wanna hear now. Pleaasse?”

“I’m sorry, Hope,” Jean told her gently, adding in a stroke of her hand over the little girl’s soft hair to the apology. For denying her, and for having had to pause for a moment, and take that time that she’d taken just now to find some kind of center again. Though… either or both of those, they didn’t seem to be quite enough, did they? Not judging by that look, which had only gathered force, like Hope suspected she’d crack upon just a little more encouragement in that direction.

Okay, she needed some way out of this, didn’t she? “I think Bear might start getting bored if we have all the stories at once,” Jean pulled out of the top of her head, then went with.

Oh god, and had it worked? “Bear!” Hope exclaimed, turning quickly down to regard the not-quite forgotten stuffed animal she’d still got tucked under one arm with a slightly worried glance that didn’t last very long at all. “We can fix that,” the little girl resolved, then looked back up at them, from her to Calvin and then back. She scrambled to her feet a moment later, not seeming to be aware of the fact that that was human parent legs she was treading all over as she did, or of the steadying hand Jean reached out to her to help her keep her balance.

But she hugged both of them, very quickly, then hopped down off their laps, Bear (now in hand), being murmured to in words that Jean couldn’t quite catch with her ears, and didn’t feel the need to pry into with telepathy.

Instead, she turned her head again, looking to Hope’s father with an expression that might have been more than a little rueful. Because yes, she had just employed her daughter’s stuffed best friend in an imaginary ploy to avoid actually saying no, and that was almost certainly negative parent points.

Only a little ruefully, though. It wasn’t as though he’d done any better with his ‘maybe for some other times, was it?
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He'd walked away from that old abandoned, caved in mine shaft his father'd thought would make a good new home for reasons Calvin had never been quite able to work out worth a damn and despite the explanation at the time. Seemed like there should've been other options, better ones, but like son like father or some shit.

Don't ask for help, just do the stupidest damned thing that comes to mind while you try to handle it yourself.

Didn't remember any've that at the time, though. Didn't remember anything. Not having powers, not losing them, not grabbing Jean like the 'man purse' she'd claimed or taking her to that old mine to try to get to his father's machine. Wasn't til later he'd even question why the fuck he'd been standing out in the middle of nowhere with a suitcase in his hand, waiting on a fucking taxi.

Just hauled his ass back to school, like he guessed he'd been instructed to. Another normal guy, as far as he knew.

“Was that what you were doing?” Jean asked him in that way that meant she didn't expect an answer and that she was trying to put him in his place a little. Didn't work, not when she couldn't even work any sarcasm in there at all and had that other tone instead.

Calvin just grinned at her, would've regardless. "What I tell myself I was doing anyway," he answered all the same, then turned back to Hope who was looking at both of them like she thought they might be trying to pull one over on her. Yeah, he had powers now, but not then. And he did give her mom back. In a manner of speaking.

“Mommy gave herself back,” [Jean] corrected, not letting him get away with that, either. Nothing new there, she'd never let him get away with much. Either way, she'd got given back. That time. And he eventually got powers again through a whole lotta convoluted shit even he wasn't sure he could untangle and make sense of. Probably a story for later, and yeah. Jean didn't have to lift that eyebrow his way to know how damned well that'd probably work.

Fuck. There came the look from those wide, blue eyes in that little face that was a whole lot like her mothers. Jesus, how the hell did he get outta that? She did that for a few more seconds, he'd crumble like a sandcastle at high tide. He hoped to hell Red there had more damned willpower or something. Otherwise, they were gonna spend the rest've the morning with him trying to make sense of shit he hadn't through of in years, just because their little girl wanted to hear it.

Then she broke out the 'Pleeeasse' and Calvin was done. No damned defense against that. Turned into a damned puddle of jello by a four year old. Gave Jeannie's shoulders another squeeze of support, just in case she might be able to manage better damned resistance than he was.

“I’m sorry, Hope,” Jean told her gently, which was a hell'uva lot better than he'd managed. Couldn't help but smile as he watched her stroke her hand over Hope's cap of red hair. Wanted to grab them both up and hold onto them and not let go, but he settled for stroking his hand lightly over Jean's upper arm and shoulder instead.

Hold onto them while he could, take in every second. It's all he could do, so it was what he would do, and try not to worry about after that.

“I think Bear might start getting bored if we have all the stories at once,” her mother came out with next. Where the hell that'd come from, Calvin didn't have the first damned idea, but any port in a storm when it looked like Hope might just go straight into pouting. And he'd never fucking survive that.

"Yeah, she looks like she might wanna do something else, don't you think," he added gamely, groping for anything to add that might head off that little lip sticking out at them.

Sure enough, by some damned miracle, that actually worked. “Bear!” Hope exclaimed, turning quickly down to regard the not-quite forgotten stuffed animal she’d still got tucked under one arm with a slightly worried glance that didn’t last very long at all. “We can fix that,” the little girl resolved, then looked up at them, nearly stomped them both to death getting up while Jean thought quick enough to keep her from falling over, hugged them before Calvin had time to more than half raise his free arm, then took off like a shot. Or a four year old on a dire mission of stuffed bear fixing. Whatever the hell that'd end up being.

Didn't know, but Hope was jabbering away at Bear about something or other. Couldn't quite hear it, so he turned toward Jean, catching that wry look that matched the lopsided smile settling onto his own face. Yeah, they weren't exactly in line for the parents of the year awards, were they?

On the other hand, a damned minute to regroup wasn't a bad idea, either. Had barely had time for either of them to breathe since she walked in the door. He could sure as hell use that, had a feeling she could, too.

It wasn't breathing he was thinking about, though. Not just then, as he looked into her face, their daughter mumbling and chirping to her stuffed toy in the background. Caught himself leaning in toward her before he even realized it. Managed to stop, reach up with his free hand instead. Cup one cheek and run the pad of his thumb over the soft skin, telling himself he'd just have to be satisfied with that.

"C'mon," he told her, voice low and a little hoarse as he forced himself to move back, arm still wrapped around her as he got his legs under him and stood his ass up. "Let's find something to sit on besides the damned floor before she gets done. Pretty sure I remember having something close to furniture in here."

Not that he could remember much right now, while he was still looking at her. Or that he cared if it'd all been cared the hell off while he was doing it.
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It was Calvin’s arm, tightening around her shoulders, that called Jean back to the moment that was now, and here in front of her, away from the mire of the thoughts she couldn’t quite seem to find the way out of for herself, even with the pleading expression on the face of the little girl who was still straddling both of their laps.

Wanting that other story Calvin had hinted at. Wanting it nowww, and pleaassse, and being almost - but not quite - too adorable to deny. Deny it Jean did though, with an apology that went beyond just the lack of story. For that lost moment, too, however much it seemed as though it had passed again, brushed away by the gentle press of Calvin’s hand against her shoulder.

Though even with some hair-stroking added in, Jean wasn’t much liking her chances of holding out in this battle of wills with the wide little blue eyes and determined nose of her daughter. Not until she’d struck upon the idea of using Bear, anyway, inventing the possibility of a stuffed animal friend who might be getting bored with too many parent stories right out of thin air.

The moment hung in the balance for a second, Hope’s expression poised just at that point between thoughtful and pouting, till Calvin caught on, and weighed in with his own thoughts on the matter. “Yeah, she looks like she might wanna do something else, don't you think," he added gamely, though with a note in his voice that said - if you knew him - that he had no real conviction that it would help at all.

Well, it did, though, proving enough to tip those scales over into a hurried, almost-worried inspection of Bear, presumably for signs of boredom. Exactly what Hope found when she looked there, she didn’t say, but she did assure the animal that ‘we’ would be able to fix that. And then, in a pelter of little (though surprisingly forceful) stepping feet, a hand at her back to steady her while she was moving like that, and a pair of quick hugs - one for each of them - the little girl was off again, heading off into the rest of the room, murmuring in a soft voice to the bear as she did.

And so, here she was, on the floor, tucked inside the arm that Calvin had stretched across her shoulders. Not even thinking about the little foot-shaped bruises that might be forming on their legs as they, because there was a rueful (if amused) look she had to turn his way, to share that joke about what that said about their parenting she knew - even without asking - that he’d understand.

Or she’d thought that was why she was turning to him. When she’d done it, and found herself looking at that smile of his that had gone slightly askew, the wry amusement she’d been feeling faded all away and into something else entirely. What, Jean didn’t know, or didn’t want to let herself know, but she saw, or felt, or sensed him moving in, and found herself doing the same the very next breath.

It didn’t feel like something she was doing for herself. Not a choice, an action actively taken. No. It was something that felt natural, or at least completely unavoidable, right up until the point where Calvin stopped short.

A hand at her cheek, a thumb brushing her skin, like he’d done all those times before. It was familiar - welcome, even. But the moment of inevitability had passed, and without anything like conscious volition returning in its place. She was frozen, face still and throat numb, unable to move or speak or do anything but look up to meet the dark brown eyes that were the only thing there seemed to be room for in the world at that instant.

“C’mon,” he told her, voice low and a little hoarse as he forced himself to move back, and though Jean managed to nod, the fact that she ended up a few seconds later back standing on her own feet seemed to owe more to the arm he’d kept around her, and the strength in it that took her with him, unprotesting, as he rose himself. “Let’s find something to sit on besides the damned floor before she gets done. Pretty sure I remember having something close to furniture in here.”

“That’s an improvement,” Jean told him, thinking of other times, in a voice that had been thickened by a knot that seemed to have taken up residence inside her throat.

She, though. Hope. Had she even forgotten Hope, in that moment just now, when the world had seemed too much to fit anything but Calvin into her mind? With a start, Jean turned her head back over her shoulder, but there was her daughter, still happily murmuring to her bear, and looking up only briefly, sending them both a quick, bright smile before she returned to her own business.

After that, Jean didn’t have to think at all. Instead, wearing that answering smile that had risen to her face again the moment she’d seen Hope look up, she turned back quickly, and without giving herself time to doubt or think or choose, she slipped her free arm up around Calvin’s neck, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips against his, letting everything she might have known about the badness of that idea fly right out of her head.
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Jesus.

Yeah, he was gonna need to work on that. Pretty sure convincing a four year old that she didn't wanna hear more stories because it was upsetting her favorite stuffed toy maybe left a little something to be desired. Damned sitcoms made this look a hell'uva lot easier than it actually was.

Hope was off to cheer up Bear or do whatever it was she thought needed doing, chattering away to that stuffed toy as she did and stomping all over them in the process. Got a hug out of it, though, and that went a long way toward making up for that.

Turned his head toward Jean, knowing he was gonna see something like his own expression on her face, too, and sure enough. There it was. For a few seconds, anyway, before all that shifted to something else. Started leaning in toward her, arm still around her shoulders, before he even came close to realizing what the hell he was doing. Because it felt just that easy. That much like it ought to happen.

Shit he told himself to try to rationalize doing something he knew damned well he didn't have any business doing, but couldn't seem to help. No matter what else he knew. Knew she was leaning in toward him, too, and that felt just as easy.

Managed to somehow stop himself at the last damned second, though, cursing himself in his own head with every single curse he knew. And it was a pretty fucking impressive collection, even if he did say so himself. Instead, his free hand came up. Cupping her cheek, pad of his thumb stroking across silky skin and wishing-

Wishing for things he didn't have any damned business wishing for and he damned well knew it. Didn't know what she was thinking as she just sat there, still as water in a jar, and was too much of damned coward to find out. Figured he didn't wanna know, but he looked into those green, green eyes all the same because he couldn't seem to look anywhere else.

Finally managed to find his voice, even if it came out hoarse and too low. Got them up on their feet, at least. They could at least find somewhere else to sit down besides the damned floor. Last he looked, there was furniture around here somewhere. If you'd asked him right now, though, he sure as hell couldn't have told anybody just then what it was or where.

A quick look around the room answered that question, confirmed it was still there and so was Hope. Still chattering too soft to make out to her Bear and sounding happy and completely damned oblivious to the mess her parents were making.

“That’s an improvement,” Jean told him and one side of his mouth edged upward again. That same, wry almost-smile. Yeah, hell, at least it wasn't a cave this time.

Felt Jean start and even that much of a smile vanished as he turned back to her. But she was looking at Hope, like she'd suddenly realized it might've been a dream of some kind. That that little red haired, blue-eyed girl might had disappeared. Figment of her imagination. Yeah, hell, he knew that feeling, too. Spent most've last night convinced, every time he'd started awake, that she was some kinda dream.

Every time, though, she'd still been there. Right in that bed, fast asleep, a foot or so away.

She was still there this time, too, stopping long enough in whatever she was telling her bear (and damned if he was still convinced it even was a bear, but Hope'd decided it was, so it didn't matter) to smile at them. Bright and happy and like they hadn't been the biggest idiots in the damned world and a whole hell'uva lot luckier than they'd had any right to.

Calvin smiled back. No way he could help it or that he'd ever want to. Was still wearing that smile when he turned back to Jean, about to say - fuck knew what. The next second, it didn't matter, because she was right there. Looking at him, smiling. Arm winding around his neck and kissing him.

Arm tightening around her shoulders, his other slipped around her waist. Pulled her in closer and there wasn't anything else to think about or to say. All there was was to kiss her back, the way he'd wanted to kiss her since he'd opened that door, saw her standing there in the hall. Not knowing what the hell to do or say any more than he had himself.

Didn't give a damn anymore if he should or shouldn't or if it wasn't a good idea. It just was. Like gravity was. She pulled him like that. Like gravity. No damned use to fight it because it was a hold he couldn't shake. Wouldn't have even if he'd wanted to, because all that'd do was jerk the solid ground out from under him.

Kissed her maybe a little rougher than he meant to, all the things he shouldn't say or couldn't say crowding themselves into it. Trying to make themselves heard and no damned way to fight that, even if he'd tried, so he didn't. Too damned easy to just let it happen and say to hell with the rest. Hold her there against him and kiss her for as long as he could get away with it.

Not forever, though. Nothing lasted that long, no matter how damned much you might want it to. Had to pull back eventually, look down in that face he still saw in his dreams at night, when the dreams were good. Tried to find some damned words to make come outta his mouth but didn't seem to remember a single one of any kind.

Let out something between a growl and a grunt of frustration at his own fucking idiocy, then said fuck and kissed her again, hand moving from her shoulders to tangle in that fall of red hair. One thing he knew how to do, that was be a damned idiot. Might as well make the most of it and to hell with the rest.
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Jean Grey
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And then, she kissed him.

It wasn’t thought. It wasn’t intention. It simply was, flowing with all the inevitability of molten lava from the smile Hope had given when she’d looked up at them, to the one she’d seen when she turned back around to Calvin and then into action. An arm around his neck, a hand steadying herself at his side when she had to rise up to reach him, and her lips on his, speaking all the things she didn’t know how to say, or knew that she had no business saying.

He pulled her closer, holding her just as tightly in his arms as she remembered. From the camp, and from the hallway only days ago, but if those two memories warred at all in her mind, Jean didn’t notice it. There wasn’t time, or space for thought. Or for anything but the need to kiss him, to feel him returning that kiss, reaching for his mind till she’d entangled herself in the thoughts that were every bit as incoherent as her own.

She gave herself up to it. The hunger, the chaos, call it what you would, but the sum of it, the core of it, in the pressure of his hands at her shoulders and her waist, the aggressive way his mouth claimed hers. Meeting it, and matching it, pouring everything that she shouldn’t feel, and couldn’t keep, and already knew she would have to walk away from, into the immediacy of the moment. Tightening her arm around his neck, and her fingers at his side as though she could clutch it that way, and keep it from slipping away all over again.

If it had worked…

…but in the end, Calvin did pull back, though the look in his eyes when she opened hers seemed to mean that even that break wouldn’t be enough to give her any chance of breathing again. She could feel his thoughts in her mind, but the stranger thing was that she didn’t need to. Not when she could see him looking at her, because it seemed as though all of them were there in the warm, dark brown eyes that met hers anyway.

He…

…she…

…she’d missed him. Even though part of her mind might still swear there had never been a time when he’d had a place in her life, let alone her heart, she’d missed him, and those rumbling, animal noises he made when he couldn’t think of what to say, like that one he was making right now. And so she had to kiss him again, or let him kiss her again, or… well, it didn’t matter. There was a kiss, and a hand tangling through her hair, the fluttering touch of wings just brushing at her knuckles when she moved her own hands, and she loved him, for all the time that this would last.

It didn’t though. It couldn’t, and this time Jean pulled back, making herself draw in her breath. Making herself restart her thoughts, extricating herself from the heedless emotion - her own, and Calvin’s - and trying to think again. She sent her thoughts powers first to Hope, brushing carefully over her daughter’s mind, to assure herself that she was still there, and still content, then breathed out again, and tried to find some semblance of order in the rest of what was in her mind.

“I…” she started, but too soon. There wasn’t any order, or any words that came to supply an end to that one word sentence. Or there were words, but too many of them, crowding up all at once to try to find a way to make themselves heard.

I love you.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I’m sorry.

“I can’t stay,” Jean finally managed to say, pushing all the rest away from her tongue, and turning her eyes back up to Calvin once more. Wasn’t that the crux of it, in the end? Whether she wanted to or didn’t, or wanted to and didn’t, she couldn’t stay here. And they both knew it.
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Mimic
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She was right there.

In his arms, in his head. That was a whole lot like a damned dream, but he didn't give a shit about that, either. Not right now. Not when she was as much a part of him right this second as his blood and bones were part of him. Felt likes she was running through his veins, thoughts in his head that he couldn't have said were his or hers or both.

Couldn't make sense of any've it and didn't need to. All he needed, all it felt like he might ever need, was right there in the pressure of her against him, one slender arm around his neck, her mouth on his, hot and urgent with that same kinda need he felt himself.

Pulled her closer, harder against him, wanting to feel every single inch of her he could. Knew he shouldn't, even when he did it, but there wasn't any way to help it. Shouldn't be doing any've this, but couldn't help that, either. Didn't want to help it.

If he had any damned choice in the matter, it'd go on forever, even if he knew it couldn't. He'd have to let her go. That wasn't anything he could change. Nothing he had any right to change, no matter whether or not it felt like he should.

Calvin knew it couldn't last. Wouldn't. No matter how tight he held onto her, no matter how tight she let him hold onto her. No damned matter how much he wished there was some damned way to go back and change things. Fix all the shit that'd put them right here, right now, with no real damned choice that they could make that'd ever let this be more than just this. He could copy all the powers on this helicarrier and not a single one've them, or all've them put together, would let him fix it all in a way that could make this last.

So he pulled back, looked down into her face and didn't know what the hell to say. He could feel her thoughts, swirling around and conflicting and tangling up with his that were doing the same damned thing and that felt more right than it had any right to, too. Felt like there was a place there that'd always been waiting for her. Always belonged to her. Probably always would.

Hard as he tried, he couldn't get out one word. Not one out've all the words crowding into his head, trying to push their way out. Maybe he didn't need to, she was in there anyway, but it was frustrating as fuck. Enough that it had him practically growling, then kissing her again because at least he knew how to do that. Hand in that long, red hair and the feel of her fingers brushing against his wings.

Their daughter, still whispering to her bear a few feet away.

This kiss, that stolen little bit of time, couldn't last, either, and Jean pulled back. Loosening his hold on her a little - and more than a little reluctantly - Mimic stood there, pulled in a breath as he felt the thoughts of the woman he was still holding turn toward the little girl they'd made. Felt her exhale as he opened his own eyes.

Still didn't know what the hell to say, though there was plenty he knew he should.

“I…” she started but didn't finish, and maybe she didn't need to, either. He could feel her, 'hear' her, knew the kinda things running through her mind that were pretty damned close to the things running through his.

"S'alright, Red," he told her, voice low and a little rough. Couldn't seem to keep that outta it and quit trying. Maybe it wasn't what he wanted, what at least part've her wanted, but it would be all right, all the same. Whatever he had to do to make it as close to all right as he could, he would. She'd been through enough shit for three or four lifetimes, not just the two she was having to carry around. Even he wasn't that much of a selfish bastard.

“I can’t stay,” Jean finally managed to say and even knowing it was the truth, having known it was the truth the whole time, there was something about hearing the words, hearing her say them, that was like a sledgehammer to the gut. Too damned real, he guessed, but he'd dealt with plenty of shit that was too damned real. He'd deal with this, too.

"Yeah. I know," he told her, watching those eyes of hers still, fingers sliding slowly through soft strands of her hair. Putting how that felt, how she felt, the look on her face and in her eyes to memory. She deserved better than this damned broken world where just about everybody she knew was gone. He wanted better for her than that, whatever he might want for himself.

Maybe he oughta want better than this for Hope, too. Maybe he oughta ask her to take their daughter with her. To somewhere the world hadn't gone to shit and hopefully never would. But he was, Calvin admitted, too much of a selfish bastard for that. Knew he'd never be able to do it, even if he should.

"I'll always love the hell outta you, Red," Calvin Rankin added, since that was the clearest damned thing he could pull outta his head and put into any kinda words that'd make sense. "No matter where you go. And I'll make sure Hope has the best damned life I can give her."

Neither of those were hard promises to make or to keep. Maybe they weren't enough, they sure as hell didn't feel like it, but maybe it was at least something.
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Jean Grey
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You must remember this…

…and why had those words chosen this moment to sneak inside her mind? The kiss… was just a kiss, and she knew, when she made herself admit it, that there was no need to ask ‘why’ when that song found its way to her thoughts, whether or not she agreed. Too much disorder there otherwise, and too much hesitation, too many competing words that pressed to be spoken from two different hearts, leaving her with nothing but that single syllable that had died on her tongue when she’d tried.

That, and the look in his eyes, and the touch of his mind, still wrapped in hers.

“S’alright, Red," he told her, voice low and a little rough. And no, it wasn’t alright, but she still loved him for trying to tell her that, or maybe for making that mess of it. Nothing smooth, nothing put behind a front, just what he meant, and wanted to be true for them both.

Even if it wasn’t alright for him. Even if… what was alright for her?

But she knew that too, even if it cost something to make herself admit that she did.

She couldn’t stay. And she made herself say it, knowing that however much they both knew it, if she didn’t, there would be a dozen other things that let them keep ignoring what they did know, until it all became worse. Wasn’t that what they did? Just put it aside, tell themselves they’d admit it later, and lose themselves in those moments?

So she saw him hurt, saw him take the words like he’d taken all those punches in the Camp (without flinching, but feeling it all the same), and forced herself to hold together, refused to let herself take the words back. It would still be true, even if she did.

“Yeah. I know," he told her, without letting her go, or dropping his hand from where it had tangled in her hair. Looking at her, watching her like it was the last time he was ever going to be able to do it.

It was the last time though, wasn’t it? That was what this had meant.

Jean turned her eyes back up to his once more, and let them burn once more into her memory, no matter that they were already there, and always would be now. There weren’t words for it, though.

No. There was one word, from back on that day in the Camp.

“You,” she said, lifting her hand from where it had been resting and placing it gently on his chest, so it lay over his heart. That was all she said aloud, but the rest was there in her head, and so in his, if he chose to look. For what it meant, what it had always meant. I love you.

She wouldn’t say it again, but it was there.

His thoughts though… they’d turned to Hope, and the idea that… she… she…

She couldn’t. Feeling her eyes widen and her throat constrict, losing all the words she needed then, Jean could only stand there, as though she were a spectator, watching him consider the idea. She couldn’t though. Could barely even manage to keep herself held together here, with him, for just this little while they’d had. Alone?

No. No, thank god, though it might crack off another jagged chunk out of the pieces of heart in her chest, he’d thought better of that idea. Never really thought seriously about it, perhaps, and that might be better. This, and Calvin - even in this world - that was better for her daughter than what might happen the other way.

“I’ll always love the hell outta you, Red," Calvin Rankin added, just like he had that day, and just like it had that day, the words startled Jean, then settled her thoughts into a calm, clear point she hadn’t imagined they could have. “No matter where you go. And I'll make sure Hope has the best damned life I can give her.”

Jean smiled. It was a sad smile, but one that might still know what being at ease felt like. “I know you will,” she told him, lifting the hand that had rested on his chest up to the side of his jaw, brushing over his beard. “I don’t doubt that at all.” Either of those things.

“And today,” she promised him, leaving her hand where it was for a little while longer, as she told herself it wasn’t yet time that it had to be taken away, “we’ll make this world a little closer to being one that deserves her.”
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Mimic
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He knew.

Knew she had to go. Knew this sure as hell wasn't any damned place for her, didn't matter how much he wanted it to be. Wished it was. Knew there was another life and family and friends waiting for her back in a world that hadn't totally gone to shit.

Hell, he wanted that for her. She deserved better than this. Better than him, too. Just...fucking better. Better than any've this, than any've the shit that'd happened to her since she'd been here. Better than what'd happened to her in that Camp, in those Pens. If he was talking about two different women with all that, it didn't really seem that way. Not now.

It might hurt like hell to hear it, to know it. Might feel like somebody'd shoved a fist in his gut and twisted, but he wouldn't let that matter. 'Cause it couldn't. This, right now. This memory, how she looked and sounded and felt, those soft strands of red hair running through his fingers and those green eyes watching his. That's what he got outta this.

That, and Hope. More than he'd ever thought he'd have, that was for damned sure. If it didn't seem like enough right now, he'd get the fuck over it all the same. He'd find a way to do that, because he did have Hope and she deserved better, too.

“You,” she said, hand resting flat against his chest, right over his heart. The one that felt like it might've stopped. He remembered that, too. That word, that look. That day in the damned Camp. Remembered every second. The other words were there, even if she didn't say them. In her head, in his head. Right now, it was the same damned thing. Maybe the one damned time in his life he'd been grateful for that telepathy he'd picked up off Xavier.

Crossed his mind, then, that Hope probably would be better off in that other world, with her mother. Damned if he could do it,though. Too much of a selfish bastard for that, and that wide eyed look Jeannie gave him, those sudden feelings that were something too damned close to panic for a second, that settled that choice for good.

It'd be too much for her, on her own. Fuck knew what Summers would think, but he didn't give a shit about that. Her, though, he did and he knew she loved Hope. Didn't have the first damned doubt about that, but she was still putting herself back together. And damned if he thought he could stand the idea of losing both've them at once.

None've it, not one single bit of this, got to be easy, did it? Not for him, sure as hell not for her.

Not a damned thing for him to do about it, aside from repeat those words he'd said to her back in that Camp, the day they'd found themselves alone in the barracks. He loved the hell outta her. Always would. Didn't matter where she went, what she did. Wouldn't ever change that. He couldn't make her the promises he wanted to, or would've liked to. Not then, and not now. But he could promise her one thing and that was that he'd give their daughter the best damned life he could.

She smiled, then. A sad one, but it was still a smile and something in that had him smiling back as much as he could manage. Still felt like somebody'd ripped everything outta his chest and his guts, but that smile came easy enough all the same. Always had, for her.

“I know you will,” she told him, lifting the hand that had rested on his chest up to the side of his jaw, and his head canted that way, all on it's own, as it brushed along his beard. “I don’t doubt that at all.” Then he turned his head, planted a kiss on those slender fingers. Put this moment firmly into his memory, too.

“And today,” she promised him, leaving her hand where it was for a little while longer, and that was just fine with him. Good reason for him to just keep combing his fingers through her hair. Hold onto her just a little longer, “we’ll make this world a little closer to being one that deserves her.”

He sure as hell hoped she was right. Fuck knew, he was planning on doing whatever the hell he could toward that.

"Damned right," he agreed, then bent his head to drop a brief kiss on top of hers. Made himself stop at that and look back at her. Checked on Hope without looking that way, but she was still occupied with Bear. Sounded like they'd moved on to discussing something or other about that little ewok outfit Rachel had made it.

"I-" he started, frowned a little. At himself, for not being able to figure out the words he wanted. How to say what he wanted to say. Or what he wanted to ask. "Is there anything you want me to tell her?" Calvin finally managed, keeping his voice low and head turning slightly, casting a brief glance toward Hope. "Anything you want her to know? For later? Or, hell, anything at all. Whatever it is."

After she was gone. But fuck if he could say that, or wanted to. Anything at all, though, whatever it was. If there was anything, he'd make sure it happened. He'd make damned well Hope knew her mother as much as he could make that happen, no matter how far apart they were.
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Jean Grey
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Smiling. She smiled, and Calvin smiled too, even though the world they’d created for the brief moments here this morning was melting, washing away like chalk on a pavement when the rainstorm hit. Still, there was a smile.

He’d make sure Hope had the best life he could give her. And she knew him well enough to know that that would be a good one, because he’d make sure of that. Jean didn’t doubt that at all. Whether he knew it yet or not (and it was at once old and new awareness in her own mind), that was as much a part of Calvin as that battered smile, or the beard she reached up to brush her hand over, rewarded by the way his lips turned and found her fingers.

One more luxury that maybe shouldn’t be, that she’d steal from this moment to keep for the part of her that would always wish that it had been able to last forever. One more piece of him that she’d remember.

One more piece that Jean couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of, as she made a promise of her own. Not stepping away from the circle of his arm, from the soft sure way his hand had with her hair, even though she should, and she knew she should. One more piece, and that promise. Today, they’d make this world nearer to being one that would be good, and safe. One that Hope deserved to have.

It was… what they did, like she’d told Kurt lifetimes ago. But more than that. It was more than that. It was her fight, the one she’d told Warren and Sue last night that she was staying here for. One that changed everything, made having more power than she knew what to do with fail to scare her anymore, just because it meant a better chance to see the fight through for their daughter’s sake.

They’d do it.

“Damned right," [Calvin] agreed, then bent his head to drop a brief kiss on top of hers. One that shouldn’t have been, maybe, but Jean only closed her eyes and let her thoughts melt back into it, and into him. One more moment, and another, feeling Hope’s thoughts through his, as he reached to check on her. Feeling the way he felt for that little red-haired girl, whispering to her Bear, and thinking of Hope, and of Rachel, who’d also had to grow up without her.

It would be okay. It should be better than this, but this was better than… than… the other.

“I-“ [Calvin] started, frowned a little. Caught Jean’s attention again, and she pulled her mind out of his far enough that it was easier to focus on his words without being tangled in his thoughts. “Is there anything you want me to tell her?" Calvin finally managed, keeping his voice low and head turning slightly, casting a brief glance toward Hope. "Anything you want her to know? For later? Or, hell, anything at all. Whatever it is.”

Anything she wanted her daughter to know. Jean swallowed hard, following his gaze toward Hope, and resting on the little girl for a few long, painful seconds. Anything she wanted her daughter to know now, because there was a whole life to answer for now, wasn’t there? Because this would be goodbye, no matter what happened on those missions today. It couldn’t be anything but goodbye.

“Tell her how much her mother loved her,” she said finally, eyes drawing back to Calvin’s like a cloud of filings to a lodestone. How much love there was, and there had been, even then. Even in those months in the pens, when all she’d had was that one single, tiny, spark that had been Hope. A light that should never have had to have been, but a light in the darkness all the same. “And when she’s old enough to understand,” Jean added, drawing back very slightly, tilting her head a little further to met Calvin’s eyes, “tell her that I’m sorry.”

For all of it. He’d know, and he’d understand what she meant, without having to say it aloud now, Jean felt sure of that. Felt relieved, and grateful, that with Calvin there wasn’t a need to worry about how to explain herself.

Another half-step back - more like a quarter step really, but all the same, it was distance that felt like more than the actual physical distance she’d moved, even though she dropped her hand from Calvin’s shoulder and took one of his own in her grasp. Squeezing it lightly, one more time.

And a smile, again. Somehow, yet again, there was still a smile. “And don’t even think about letting her wear pink,” Jean added, though the joke might have been lame, and her voice even lamer when she made it, “Ever.”

It wasn’t what she could have said. Except that it was all that she could manage to say.
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