Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, unfortunately. They belong to Marvel; Stan Lee IS God and I am eternally grateful he created them. I just borrowed them; I get no monetary compensation for my pains, just the sad manic glee I get from wonderful, wonderful people reviewing me. So, please don't sue, broke student and all, I haven't got a lot you'd want.
And please, leave a review. Let me know what you think, good or bad, I don't mind; how else do we learn without constructive criticism? All reviewers get a virtual "Chocolate Fish" in honour of my being presently in New Zealand and having discovered these delicious sweeties/lollies/candies. This is my first fic so any feedback is GREATLY appreciated.
'Beth', 'Isabelle' and a multitude of other more minor characters belong to me inc. 'Carrie' and Beth's family and friends.
MUCH gratitude to Sophy, my wonderful friend, your input is so very much appreciated; as is allowing me to beta the workings of your marvellous mind. A great big THANKS mate!
A/N: This is AU and I have messed with the timeline a bit so that it fits. Sorry. Well, it's mostly just that Gambit's entire involvement with the X-Men has been condensed into one year, including Rogue/Antarctica.
Chapter One: The Girl
The girl stepped off the bus and onto the dusty road, wearing black tailored dungarees with enormously baggy legs and carrying a baby strapped to her front. She turned towards the café, stretching from her long journey and blinking in the pale late-September sunlight. She wore her hair swept up into a simple ponytail, unknowingly enhancing her youthful appearance. She had a bag slung around her, looping underneath the sleeping infant, snuggled into her mother's warmth. She brushed a hand across her tired eyes and brushed back the wispy tendrils of her dark brunette hair which had escaped their bonds. Pale skin added to the air of fatigue surrounding the young woman, only the classic English Rose complexion colouring her cheeks preventing from her looking in even worse health. She looked around, taking in her surroundings; despite the fact she knew perfectly well what the area looked like. She'd spent goodness knows how long staring out the window as her child slept. All these small towns, and Lord knows she'd seen too many; had a sameness to them and they all unnerved her. Consequently, she saw the light, dusty country surrounding them; she saw the fields, the distant farms, the small town someway ahead and the gas station situated in the fields just outside town, where they stopped and the passengers had piled off the bus. She twitched her clothes nervously, she didn't like these small towns; she was too noticeable. She had long ago given up wondering why no one cared, even grew grateful for the apathetic society that made it easier for a person to hide. The apathy and anonymity was even more noticeable in the cities, no one noticed much and she could blend into the huge crowds. So now she tried to make straight jumps from city to city but of course, they had to stop at gas stations from time to time; like this little place somewhere in the heart of Georgia.
She headed straight to the bathrooms and when she emerged, she looked refreshed with a newly washed face and a lively sparkle in her eyes. Her hair neat and tidy, her daughter awake, all her needs attended to and happy. The difference about mother and child was astounding. The baby curiously investigating everything in sight with her bright and active eyes, the mother obviously delighting in her daughter's world. A smile was quick to blossom on her lips at anything her daughter found intriguing, as she sat drinking her coffee. She removed her overlarge, comfortable, travelling coat, wearing a bright pink top underneath her dungarees and searched through her bag to retrieve a tissue to wipe the dribble from her child's face.
"Beautiful girl, ain't she?" commented a male voice, his American accent twanging through the air. She turned to see a man, probably late forties smiling down at them.
"Well, I certainly think so." She replied in her crisp English inflection, looking at her daughter, lying in her arms, where she had her tiny fist wrapped around her mother's finger.
"But then again, all mothers do, don't they?" she continued, turning to him with a smile.
"So I've heard. You're British?" he asked as he slid into the seat across from them
"That obvious, is it?"
"Well, it is kinda conspicuous. So what brings ya to the good ol' U.S. of A.?"
"Well, at the time, it was a good idea to get away for a while, and I thought we might as well come here as anywhere else. Her father's American, you see, better chance of finding him if we're actually IN the country." she lied. She had no intention of bringing the father into this. She'd lived with the situation too long to risk endangering anyone else. She'd learnt that lesson the hard way.
"Oh, right, so, how'd you meet her father then?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes.
"Well, I spent last year backpacking through the U.S."
"Oh right. An' ya got this little 'un as a souvenir?"
"I suppose you could put that way." But I wouldn't, Beth thought snippily, not impressed by the comment, but trying not to be insulted. It was nice to have someone to actually talk to.
"What do yer folks think about it? Is that why it was a good idea to get away?"
"I'd really rather not talk about this, if you don't mind."
"Sure, no problem. I'm Chris, by the way." He said, sticking out his hand
"Beth. And this is Isabelle. How'd you do." She replied with a smile, shaking the proffered hand.
"Great thanks, and yourself?"
"Can't complain." Beth replied in a chirpy manner. Even though she had reason enough to complain, she didn't exactly feel like sharing. Not with a complete stranger.
"Beth, that sure is a perrty name." without giving her a chance to react, he continued
"So what do ya think of America? Are ya having fun here?"
"Well, it's certainly an adjustment, as much as any foreign country. Little things like, a trunk is the boot, gas stations are service stations, the sidewalk's the pavement, you know. But yeah, it's a great country. I liked it enough to come back again."
"That's very cool, I'm glad ya like it here."
"Do you?"
"Well, everyone can see the flaws of their own country better, can't they? But on the whole, I guess I like it, my job's here so."
"And what do you do Chris?"
"I'm an architect. Right now, I'm travellin' to scope out the site for ma next job."
"Wow, that must be so cool! You get to travel, and I'd imagine that you get to be quite creative, designing buildings and things?"
"Yeah, the job certainly has its highlights." He looked her up and down as he spoke. She tried to ignore it, but the blatantly masculine way he looked at her couldn't do much but unsettle her.
They continued to speak but Beth couldn't shake the feeling tugging at her senses, that something wasn't quite right with the situation. She thought he was just a nice guy, he had enough of a fatherly-air to give that impression. But the looks he kept giving her, and something in his tone put her on edge. After a while, she glanced at her watch
"Oh! It's been lovely chatting to you Chris, but I really must be getting back to the coach now."
"Hey, I'll walk back with ya." He said, checking his own watch. As they stood, he took Isabelle and put her back in her baby-carrier while Beth packed their belongings into her bag and slung it around her. She reached for Isabelle but he turned and walked out of the café leaving her no choice but to follow.
"Thanks for taking her, but I really can manage myself you know." She hinted, wanting her daughter back, feeling ill at ease and vulnerable. She had a sense she was being manipulated and she really didn't like it. They emerged from the café on the far side from the car park, but instead of taking the path that led around to the car park along the road, in front of the café's glass front, Chris followed the path that went around the back. She hurried to catch up with him, not wanting him to take her daughter out of her sight. She knew she was just being paranoid, but in this world, especially in HER world, it was sensible to be at least a little paranoid. She shivered in the cold of the shade, wishing he had taken the route in front of the café into the sun. He turned the corner and she ran up to it.
As soon as she turned the corner she was pushed to the ground hard and felt hands tugging at her clothes. Her first thought was of Isabelle, where was she? What had he done with her daughter? She was pinned to the floor by Chris' body, his knees either side of her stomach as he pulled at her dungarees. She tried to kick him, but he'd tucked his feet over her knees. She struggled as the panic rose inside her. She head-butted him successfully once but he hit her hard with the back of his hand. Her stomach was tight with fear and tears were threatening the corners of her eyes. She tried to use her weight to flip them both but couldn't manage it. She felt so, helpless. She struggled more with no avail until she finally caught him off guard and flipped them both, but as they rolled off the edge of the path and onto the grass, they rolled again; putting her back under his control. He spoke to her as she continued to struggle
"Come on, give it up you slut; we both know you're up for it!" She froze as the shock of his implications set in. He thought she was easy because she'd gotten pregnant at eighteen. He thought she would sleep with any random male just because he wanted her to. He thought - He let out a triumphant grunt as he wrenched the front of her dungarees out of its fastening. Her stomach leapt in fear and panic but suddenly he was thrown backwards in a blinding flash of light. She turned desperately, looking for Isabelle and saw her where he had dumped her. There she was, safe, still in her baby-carrier, lying next to the wall, her eyes... glowing. There was a definite red light in her eyes. As Beth stared at her daughter, dumbfounded, the glow faded, considerably. Beth's mind whirled at the implications. Does this mean - How can she already be - She's not even three months old yet, how can this be happening already?
She heard Chris staggering around behind her and she scrambled to her feet. Turning to face him, she saw a man, angry and covered in dirt and scratches, but he looked... pathetic. Weedy and a despicable example of the lower members of the species.
"What the hell..." He stepped forward, stumbling back to the path and his eyes travelled to Isabelle, her eyes afire and he guessed what had happened
"Your bitch daughter... What the hell did your devil child do to me!" he snarled at her
Seeing him in this new light gave Beth a strength she hadn't known before, mentally and, it seemed physically. She stepped forward and grabbed him by the collar, flinging him around and pushing him up against the wall. He winced as he hit his head and she lifted him ever so slightly off the ground.
"After what you tried to do, I don't think there are many people that wouldn't agree with me when I say that she isn't the devil-spawn here, you are." She practically growled and continued fiercely. "Surely you know that the most dangerous creature in the world is a mother defending her child. So don't you EVER speak about my daughter like that again, or I will make you sorry you were born. In fact, it would be a VERY sensible thing of you not to mention this little incident, or any warped versions to ANYONE. EVER. Get my drift? Because if you do, I'll know and I SWEAR, I will make you sorry." She began to release him; when, despite his disadvantage, he managed a disbelieving snort, prompting her to fling him back up against the wall.
"You don't believe me? My daughter just gave you a spontaneous fireworks display and you don't believe that I can do something as easy as find out if you speak a word of this? I can do that, and more, easier than you can breathe. Anyone finds out about this, and I WILL come looking for you, and I WILL punish you. Understand?" She got no response at this, only a glare filled with hatred. She returned it with one of her own.
"I asked you if you understood, you despicable piece of filth. Am I making myself clear here, or have you lost the ability to speak your perverted version of English? Am I making myself clear?" she repeated, raising her voice slightly.
"Crystal." He eventually replied through gritted teeth.
"Well good then. That's settled."
She let him down and scooped up her daughter before hurrying back to the café entrance and ducked inside amongst the crowds of people and dashed into the bathroom. She looked at Isabelle and as the red glow finally disappeared from her eyes, her face crumpled and she began to cry. Seeing her daughter so distressed, Beth was having a hard time keeping her own tears at bay, especially when she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror. She had a huge red swell along her cheek bone where he had hit her and the other side of her lip had split at some point. She was holding the crying Isabelle with one arm but she looked at her other hand, covered in bloody scratches and smudges of mud and realised she was shaking. A woman came out of the toilets and gave a start when she noticed her injuries.
"Ya alraght dear?" she enquired kindly. That was too much, her lip wobbled and her tears spilled as she shook her head, answering
"No. I don't think I am."
Ten minutes later, Isabelle was calmed and they were both cleaned up. The woman in the toilets was a waitress there and had taken them to the staffroom and sorted them out. They sat there, a tiny kitchenette in the corner, as the woman, Barbara, placed a cup of coffee in front of her and listened sympathetically to Beth's story. Well, the version excluding Isabelle's apparent defence capabilities
"Oh dear. Ah'm so sorry. If Ah ever see him in here 'gain, you can be sure, he will be dealt with. D'ya want me ta call the cops?"
"I don't think there's much point is there? I didn't know his last name, if his name even IS Chris; and besides, my coach is leaving in a matter of minutes. Thank you so much for everything. I'll never forget how kind you've been to me. I can't thank you enough."
"Hey, a pretty card from England will be enough. Ah've always wanted ta go. You know the address, it's on the napkins!" she joked, earning her a small smile from Beth.
"I really ought to get out to the coach otherwise they'll leave without me. Thank you again."
Later, safe on the bus, Isabelle promptly fell asleep, leaving Beth alone with her thoughts.
How could this be happening already? Beth had done her research; what with Isabelle's father being a mutant, she would have been remiss not to, and mutants definitely WEREN'T supposed to get their powers before they even reach three months old. They emerged during puberty, sometimes with crippling migraines until they tapped into them. NOT while they were still in diapers, as these Americans would say. She had no problem with mutants and she was already in love with her daughter so it's not like it really meant anything to her but she wasn't stupid. She knew about the fear and hatred and prejudice against mutants that existed in this world. This world with rapists and paedophiles and kidnappers and terrorists and criminals and a thousand other types of bad guys. Didn't she have enough to worry about for her daughter's safety? Enough to worry about without mobs of ignorant, intolerant idiots attacking people just because they happened to be born with different abilities and talents? Never mind that they were still people, that most of them were good people and one was the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful man she had ever known. And that one of them was her daughter.
But how could this be happening so soon? It explained a lot sure, like the reason she'd left England in the first place but still. All any mother wants is for their child to be healthy and happy and safe. She only wanted the best for Isabelle. How could she have happiness or safety if she was confronted with such open loathing and revulsion from such an early age? It had been hard enough knowing she would have to deal with it as a teen and an adult, but as a baby, as a child? God, it was making her head hurt. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She still didn't know why there had been men after her daughter since she was only a few weeks old but it was a possible clue.
Deep within the Xavier Mansion, 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York; inside a round room, a flashing light appeared as the miraculous machine known as Cerebro registered a new mutant manifesting their powers.