Pop and I had a lot of fun that day. I could tell he was really trying to make up for everything he was feeling guilty for, so I tried to put on a good face for him, act like I was having the time of my life. Normally I would've been, too. I just couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that was slowly creeping back over me, darkening my insides like a plague.

A whole laundry list of 'what ifs' were running through my mind as we sat across from each other in a booth at the local Dairy Barn, sharing a huge banana split between us.

I'd just gotten my license, and soon we'd be on our way back up to the mansion. On our way to Beast's lab... My stomach twisted a little more, and I found I couldn't do much more than pick at my half of the dessert. Pop wasn't doing much better. He too was merely pushing around the banana, fudge, and ice cream mixture, his jaw resting heavily on one fist.

Strangely enough I wondered if he too was worried about me, or if he was suffering from the effects of a hangover...

It was easier to tell myself that he was just hung over. Why else wouldn't he be up for ice cream? He loved it as much as I did. His lack of appetite couldn't be because he was afraid that one day I was going to end up completely cut off from him physically, could it?

I looked up at him, accidentally catching him staring at me. He quickly averted his eyes, sighing almost imperceptibly as he ran one hand through his flyaway auburn hair.

Shit. I was screwed.

"Yo' gonna be jes fine, Sadi," he said low, so no one around us might hear. Not that there was anyone around to hear. It was a weekday during school hours. The only person around was the little old lady at the cash register, and she was half deaf anyway. Not that any of that mattered to me at the moment. He might as well have yelled it for allI would've cared. It was just comforting to know that he couldalmostread my mind at that moment. But who was he really trying to reassure that I'd be okay? Me, or himself?

"I know, pop. I'm just scared. If I was lighting things on fire or making them randomly explode, I think I'd probably be fine. But no matter how I spin it, I can't figure this one out."

Remy moved the dish of ice cream aside, slowly dealing us both into a game of blackjack. "T' tell de truth, Gambit was kinda hopin' Sadi wouldn' have t' deal wit a mutation. Neva want some o' de t'ings dat happened t' Remy t' happen t' his li'l girl. Been all but hunted down like a dog an shot, jes fo' bein' what I am."

"Hit me," I said absently, watching as he laid another card down in front of me then pausing before taking one himself. "I'm not sure if I should be happy about it or not though, pop. I mean, I know what kinds of things happen to mutants. I've been witness to them all my life. But on the other hand, maybe if I was a mutant, I'd fit in better at the mansion. It's like I can never keep up with those other kids in anything. There always has to be a double standard set for me in everything, and sometimes they think the reason why the teachers go easy on me is cause you're my dad. They never stop to think that maybe it's hard to take a test when you don't have some method of helping yourself during it, like telepathy, or some other trick. They're afraid that if they hang out with me they might slip, say something bad about a teacher or something, and then I'm going to go tell you about it. Maybe if I was more like them..."

"Sadi, you won' neva be like dem," he cut me off, looking at me intently for just about the first time that afternoon. "Most of de kids we got in de school now, dey brats compared t' how it was when de Professor helped Gambit get a high school diploma. T'ings aren' de same anymo'. Not like dey was den. Back den, it was dangerous t' be a mutant. Now, it be almost trendy some places. De kids yo' growin' up wit don' understand dat. Some of dem are nice kids, but dey all naïve. Too worried 'bout t'ings dat don' really mean a hell of a lot in de long run. But, I suppose it ain' fair t' compare dem t' my brilliant fille, non?"

I laughed, and he briefly flashed me one of his most charming smiles, probably as happy to have actually pulled me out of my rut as I was to be momentarily out of it.

"Need a card, chere?" he asked peacefully as we resumed our game of blackjack.

By then I had a seven and a three lying face up in front of me, and I didn't have to look to know that my down card was an ace. Pop was mostly likely the best card shark on the east coast, he could pick the ace of spades out of a random deck in his sleep. It probably was possible that he could subconsciously let me win.

I shook my head. "Got twenty one already," I replied, pushing my cards toward him so he could take them and his own, leaning back on his side of the booth and shuffling the deck lazily.

"Anyt'ing else ya wanna do t'day, petite?" he asked, once again unable to look at me directly in the eye. For the briefest second I felt like the condemned being asked what I'd like for my last meal.

"Non, poppa. Think I jes wanna go get it ovah with," I admitted, slipping into the familiar accent he always used.

He nodded, and we both stood, looking at the mostly-melted tray of ice cream we were leaving behind, uneaten.

Pop smirked at me, a bit of the mischievous spark I knew so well returning once again to his gaze. "T'ink if we asked dem, dey would put it in a bag t' go fo' us, chere?"

In spite of myself I couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking my head at him as I took a step closer and hugged him, just appreciating the fact that I still could. For a second he hesitated, as though afraid to touch me, and I almost flinched. It was already beginning, he was already afraid that he might hurt me. But what he lacked at first in assurance, he soon made up for in pure fierceness during our short embrace.

My pop hugged me tight, tight enough to make sure I knew that he'd never let me go.