Growing Pains
Epilogue
The airport is bustling with a mass of humanity – as it usually is. The usual trying-to-get-out crowd is trying to push past the trying-to-get-in mob, and airport security is escorting away troublemakers. The terminals brim over with people trying to weave past each other and get to where they need to go. Rebecca is loaded down with a case full of clothes and other personal effects I pressed on her "just in case". She is dressed in a simple white blouse and red sweater, along with some black trousers that hug her long legs right down to her prim ankles. She hefts the bag again, shifting it to her other hand, and says "Wow. Why didn't you tell me this was how it was going to be?"
"I didn't want to scare you off, Rebecca. Airport terminals are unnerving even for Warren and me, so I couldn't imagine what you'd think if I told you. I thought it better to let you see for yourself." Rebecca raises her eyebrows momentarily.
"Maybe that was a bad idea," she says, waving her free hand towards what is going on in front of her. "You should have told me about this place – it's crazy!"
Warren smiles, ruffling my daughter's hair gently. "Tell me about it. Even chartering a private jet is a nightmare here. Getting the plane is no problem, but getting there…" He rolls his eyes. "So tell me – why did you choose to fly economy class again?"
"Because I didn't want to feel like you were giving me some kind of advantage," Rebecca tells him, with a little grin. "I'd rather fly with real people than sit by myself in a tiny cabin compartment. At least this way I get to see what you people see in humans." She shrugs, raising her eyebrows above the rim of her tinted sunglasses. "Right now, I'm having second thoughts. There're so many little children – I don't know if I'm going to be able to cope."
Warren lays a hand on his daughter's shoulder reassuringly. "You'll do fine, kid. Just try and keep cool, and don't get angry with them. They'll treat you okay if you treat them with respect." He laughs. "Listen to me, giving parental advice like I'm some kind of an expert on the subject. Look, Rebecca, kids are kids. They don't mean to be annoying, they just can't help it, sometimes. Speak to their parents if you have to, but be kind to them." He shakes his head. "Nothing worse than having an angry parent on your case for shouting at their kid." If I didn't know better, I'd swear that Warren was speaking from personal experience, which in itself is an amusing thought. He doesn't strike me as the type to be beastly to small children out of temper.
"I can imagine," Scott says, as he catches up to us, with a small stuffed animal he must have just picked up from the airport gift shop. It resembles a miniature lioness, and has beautifully embroidered brown eyes on its plush, velvety-furred face. "You don't know how many times I've wanted to reprimand you for shouting at my boy." He ignores Warren's bemused smile and holds out the toy to Rebecca, who takes it with a little hesitation, as if she is unsure of why he has given it to her.
"Scott… thank you," she says softly, as she tucks the toy under her arm, kissing her "uncle" on the cheek. He flushes visibly, his cheeks almost going the same colour as his glasses.
"Just something to keep you company on the flight," he says. "I thought it suited you."
Rebecca's expression brightens, suddenly, her face filling with realisation. "I'm sure this'll help me keep those kids away, right, Dad?"
Warren shrugs. "Maybe it'll keep 'em quiet, firecracker, but I don't know about keeping them away. I'd only use that in an emergency, if I were you. You might find yourself swamped by them all wanting to pet it." He gives Scott an "A-ha!" type of look, as if to jokingly point a flaw in Scott's gift, and grins when Scott's face falls. I can tell he hadn't considered that particular scenario. Warren claps him on the shoulder with gusto before he can sink too far, though. "Don't worry about it, Scott – that's a worst-case scenario. It's a great present, right, Rebecca?"
Rebecca nods vigorously. "Absolutely, Scott. I love it." She hugs her "uncle" tightly in gratitude, and picks up her bags again, sorting through the wad of documents she has brought with her to find her boarding pass. "We should get moving," she says, looking at the ticket. "My flight leaves in less than an hour. I don't want to be late."
"The luggage ramps are over there, Rebecca," I say, pointing off to my right. "Perhaps we should get rid of your bags first, and then we can worry about getting you on afterwards, all right?" After a few seconds' thought, Rebecca nods her assent and we move, as a group, over to where the baggage racks are waiting. Rebecca lifts her case onto them and watches as it disappears into the nether regions of the airport that lie beyond. She adjusts the strap of her handbag and juggles the lioness for a moment before straightening.
"That was… easy," she says, with a wry little mile. "What next?"
"How about we go and get ourselves something to drink?" I suggest. "You must be parched – and I haven't had a cup of tea in hours." I turn to the two men. "Would you excuse us? I'd like to talk to Rebecca in private, if I may."
Warren and Scott look at each other briefly. "Sure," Warren says briskly. "Scott and I are due a beer each, I think. How long are you going to be?"
"Let's meet back here in half an hour. That ought to give us all time enough to get some refreshment."
Rebecca and I make our way towards the airport cafeteria, where I order a cup of plain tea and Rebecca sips a small orange juice. She hasn't acquired a taste for sugary soft drinks yet, but I suppose that will come, with time. In the meantime, she seems happy enough with something natural, which I think I ought to be grateful for. "Looking forward to leaving?" I ask. I realise, as soon as I've said it, that it's a fairly redundant question, but something about this whole situation renders me unable to think up anything better. Rebecca tilts her head and swills some orange juice around in her mouth a little before swallowing it.
"Yes," she says, finally. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh," I say, pausing slightly. "No reason."
"Come on, Mum." She finishes the last of her orange juice and throws the paper cup into the nearest bin with unerring accuracy. "Something's bothering you. I don't have to be a telepath to see that."
"I'll be honest with you, Rebecca," I begin, "I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with this whole thing. But this is what you want to do, and I accept that. I'm just having a hard time adjusting to being a mother hen, that's all."
Rebecca laughs out loud, and covers her mouth with her hand as a long lock of her blonde hair falls in front of her face. "I'm sorry, Mum," she says, when her laughter has died down and people have stopped gawking at her stupidly, "but in all the time I've known you, 'mother hen' was probably the last thing I'd have described you as. To tell you the truth, that sounds more like Aunt Jean or Ororo. You've never come across that way to me." She tucks the long errant strand of hair back behind her ear and takes my hand, squeezing it hard. "I'll take care, Mum, I promise." She brings my clasped hand to her lips and kisses it gently. "I promise."
"Thank you, button," I say, with a little smile on my face. "I really appreciate it." She glares at me, but only half-seriously.
"Stop calling me that," she says in mock-irritation. "I'm just about to fly to another country, Mum. I don't need to be treated like a toddler."
"I know, Rebecca. I know. But you wait until you have your first child – I guarantee you'll be doing exactly the same."
"Not when they're my age, I won't."
"Well, button, you are technically only a baby, so I think I'm perfectly justified." She fumes quite nicely at that – it's an indisputable point, and one that sometimes bogs Rebecca down in fits of maudlin sentimentality. Right at this moment, however, it's something that I can use to get a smile out of her, however grudgingly.
"Ha, ha," she says, sticking her tongue out at me defiantly. "Very funny."
"But very true, Rebecca." I squeeze her hand a little harder. "I'll be here if you need me, my darling. If you want to talk, then I'll be just a phone call away, all right?" Rebecca nods, just slightly.
"All right, Mum," she says with a wry little smile. "I'll call you as soon as I get there. Anything to stop you worrying about me." She looks at her watch. "Hey, shouldn't we be making a move? Dad and Scott will be wondering where we've got to." She shows me the time, and I finish my tea quickly, standing up and leaving a tip for our waitress. Time to get this over with…
Scott and Warren are waiting for us in the departure area, their faces a little more flushed than before, and their minds a little more befuddled than usual. I start to wonder if perhaps they've had more than the proposed one glass of beer, when Scott speaks and puts that fear to rest. "Ready to go?" he asks Rebecca, who nods silently and flashes her boarding pass with a little smile.
"Yeah," she says. "Might as well make a clean break – I'm no good at long goodbyes." She raises her eyebrows. "Well, actually I haven't had that much practice. But you know what I mean." She scratches her temple and rubs at her eyes in an almost embarrassed fashion.
"We do," Warren says, quickly, moving forwards to embrace his daughter. He presses her head to his shoulder and strokes her long blonde hair tenderly. "Gonna miss you, squirt," he continues. "I love you."
"Love you too, Dad," she replies, kissing him on the cheek. Then she turns to Scott and slips her arms around him gently, pressing herself to him.
Awkwardly, Scott returns her embrace, and hesitantly kisses her on the cheek. "See you soon, Rebecca," he says slowly, growing a little more comfortable after a few seconds. "Have a good time." Rebecca squeezes him affectionately and smiles at him. It strikes me, now more than ever, just how beautiful she is.
You don't know what you've got till it's gone, a part of my mind says sardonically. Funnily enough, I'm inclined to agree. I knew that this would be hard; I just didn't realise exactly how hard until this moment. Rebecca turns to me and takes off her sunglasses so that I can see her wonderful red eyes. She puts the glasses into their case, which hangs loosely at her belt and stands squarely in front of me, her hands hanging loosely at her sides. "Well, this is it," I say hoarsely.
"Yes," she replies. "Looks that way, doesn't it?" I can see the emotion in her face without needing to feel it through my powers. It's raw and painful, and I can tell that this is as hard for her as it is for me – which, when you consider how much she despised me when I first met her, is quite an achievement.
Warren and Scott have taken a few respectful steps back so that this moment is between my daughter and me, and no one else. For that, I'm grateful. I open my mouth to say something, but my voice refuses to respond, so I simply hug Rebecca as hard as I can, letting my emotions pour forth that way instead. Rebecca returns the embrace, and just for a moment, I imagine that I can feel her tears soaking into my blouse. "I'll be back soon, Mum," she says hoarsely, wiping at her eyes with the back of a hand. "Try not to go all to pieces while I'm gone." The joke is weak, but I'm glad for any and all attempts at humour at this point.
"I'll bear that in mind," I say softly. Then, a little smile crossing my lips, I continue "Try and behave yourself while I'm not there to slap you on the wrist."
Rebecca laughs. "It'll be a stretch, but I think I can manage it." She tilts her head a little and takes a deep breath. "Thank you for letting me go, Mum. This means so much to me."
"I know it does, button," I whisper. "I hope you enjoy the trip."
"Me too." The tannoy announces that boarding has begun for Rebecca's flight, and she looks up suddenly, instinctively clutching her boarding pass a little tighter. I sigh.
"Go on," I say. "You'd better go. They'll leave without you."
Rebecca nods. "I guess so," she agrees. She gestures with her head towards the boarding gate. "Walk with me?"
"Why not?" I say softly. I slip my hand into hers and squeeze it tightly. "Come on, button."
The boarding gate is busy, full of holidaymakers walking in pairs and in groups towards the sloping tunnel that will allow them access to the airliner destined for Paris. Before we get there, Rebecca turns to me and says, "This is it – wish me luck."
"If you needed luck, I'd give it to you," I say matter-of-factly. "You're a Braddock. You don't need luck – we never have. We've always had magic instead." I smile. "It's about as reliable as luck, but it sounds a lot better, don't you think?" Kissing Rebecca softly on the forehead, I tell her "Goodbye, darling. Come back soon."
"G'journey, Mum," Rebecca says, indulging her knowledge of Askani again.
I pause for a moment and then return the sentiment with a small smile. "G'journey, Rebecca."
And then she has disappeared into the gaping maw of the boarding tunnel, and I am alone. Warren approaches me from the safe distance he had been standing at along with Scott, and puts his hand on my shoulder gently.
"You okay?" he asks, even though he must be feeling my emotions through our link.
"No, Warren, I'm not," I say, just to drive the point home, my eyes wet with moisture. My voice, by contrast, is dry and cracked, and sounds as hoarse as if I have swallowed a box of sand. "I think I'm beginning to see what Scott feels like whenever Cable or Rachel disappears for months on end." Warren laughs softly – a sad little sound that has no real humour in it.
"Don't worry, Betts," he says. "She'll be back soon. She's a good kid – she'll take care of herself."
"That's what I'm afraid of, Warren – what if she decides she doesn't need me any more?"
Scott shakes his head. "She'll never stop needing you, Betsy. Take it from one who knows – even when they're grown-up and out of your sight for most of the time, they'll still need you. All you can do is be there for them when they realise that for themselves." He shakes his head, a broad grin spreading across his face. "If someone like Nathan can do it, Rebecca should have no trouble at all." That brings a little smile to my own lips.
"I hope you're right, Scott. I dearly hope so."
