Disclaimer: Not mine, although I wouldn't mind owning Kurt. And Logan. And maybe Remy too. Or is that just greedy?
{} is German, [] is Romani.
Jimaine wove strands of magic through the air, sweat beading on her brow. Some hours ago Kurt had returned; she'd heard him upstairs, creatively speculating on the ancestry and personal habits of their most recent visitors in a mixture of Romani and German.
She mentally shrugged, reaching yet again for the damp washcloth she'd had Kurt bring her a while ago. The poison was being forced up through the skin, and the young girl was coated with an oily green sheen. She could well guess what Kurt was angry about, although normally he hid his anger at the actions of such fools. Flashes of memory passed across her mind.
[I care not what they think of me, Jimaine!]
Her blue-furred demon love was a sensitive soul, at heart. Growing up with him, it took a while to understand why Kurt had to be kept away from crowds; why her friend couldn't come to the market of whatever town they were passing through, look through piles of baubles at the stalls, looking for 'treasure'.
[Hey Jimi! Did you bring me something?]
The world flinched from the sight of him, and it hurt him, that was clear to anyone who cared to look. But, being Kurt, he refused to let that show. Instead, he mocked their fear; and encouraged it, in fact. The number of times she'd caught him leaping from the shadows to scare those who came seeking him…
[They want a demon… I'll give them a demon]
She sighed, as the girl began to stir, and began to tie off the knots that would seal the spells she had woven. On impulse, she wove a little protection rune into the closing circles of magic, and watched as it settled just over her heart. The girl would wake soon, and then she could be returned to those who had brought her.
And then, perhaps, she could work out what to do about Kurt.
Kitty had given up pacing; and mostly given up swearing. Now she was just sitting against a tree, waiting. Wondering what the hell had happened to her manners mostly.
~I think you know that, Pryde. They went along with your patience, your innocence, and your love~
Growling at her treacherous thoughts, she stared at Logan, crouched on the other side of the little clearing, surveying the forest with calm eyes. The other X-Men, the ones who had been mostly superfluous so far… ~Wonder if Jean heard that thought.~ were in a little group. Having a discussion, probably. About her, probably, as most of them had been recently, or possibly about Jubes. She snorted. Scott would insist on having a full team come along for this, when only one or two were needed.
She wondered absentmindedly what Piotr would think of her recent behavior. He'd always known how to calm her down, even though he wasn't always so-levelheaded himself. But those strong arms wrapped around her and a gentle 'Katya' from him was usually all it took… although it didn't always work, and they'd had some simply magnificent fights.
And then he was gone, taken from her by his own actions… and as much as she'd wanted to scream at him, berate him, hate him for leaving her in such a way, she could not. Sometimes she wondered if she could have stopped him, convinced him to let Hank find another way, but her heart said no to that as well.
Above all else, Colossus was a man of honor, and she could have no more stopped him from making that terrible sacrifice than she could stop the sun rising and setting each day.
But it hurt. God, how it hurt. Like a sucker-punch to the stomach, the realization that despite their best intentions, despite all that the X-Men may have already and may yet accomplish, her childhood fantasies would never come true. She would never walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress; never be able to just live a normal life, with Piotr at her side. And now she would most assuredly never have a son with the eyes and bright smile of his father; never see their daughter asleep in her husbands arms.
And it was most terribly, terribly unfair. Which was why she'd been so angry at this Kurt person. How dare he smile, and joke, and mock her as if no tragedy could ever touch him. How dare he have a wife, and protect her so, and care not about what the rest of the world may or may not do?
How dare he have so much, when she felt as if she had nothing?
Logan was still crouched by that same tree, waiting. Jubilee was like his daughter, and his concern for her was clear upon his face. She fought down a wave of jealousy. Once she had held that prized position, although at the time she hadn't seen it as such. She'd been glad for his guidance – and equally horrified at his overprotective attitude. Then Jubilee had taken that position from her… no, Jube's had taken nothing from her. She'd been good friends with her, and perfectly happy to let someone else be babied for a while.
And then after Piotr's death, she'd pushed them all away from her. She'd lost her place both as Logan's
'daughter' and as Jubilee's friend, along with all the other friends she'd ever had at the mansion. She'd thought it would make it easier that way, so that the next time someone died, it wouldn't be so hard.
Now she just blinked back tears, and continued waiting.
Jimaine had helped Jubilee to a bath; thank Gott the girl had accepted her explanation; Jimi wasn't in a fighting mood today. Kurt was about where she expected to be; up in the nursery, holding Talia in his arms and staring into the darkness. As soon as she entered, he looked up, his eyes practically the only thing visible in the dark room. Kurt smiled to see her, briefly, then turned his attention back to the child.
Jimi just smiled to herself. The eight month old little girl would sometimes have trouble sleeping; but when Kurt took her in her arms she just lay back, her fur almost a deep a blue as her fathers, and go to sleep, sometimes almost blending into him. Her eyes were as blue as her mothers; her hands and feet took human shape, and she was tail-less (sometimes Jimaine had a deep-seated feeling that Kurt had been disappointed about the lack of tail). The other resemblance to her father came from the fangs that now, in her sleep, were only barely visible, glinting in what little light there was.
[How will we explain it to her, do you think?]
She moved closer, to wrap one arm about him. [How will we explain what, Kurt?]
[How will I explain to my daughter, why the world hates her so?]
Jimaine sighed and sat down. Kurt needed to talk this out.
[I don't care about them, Jimi. I have all the love and friendship I will ever need from you – and yet it still hurts. I have hardened my heart a hundred times over – and yet sometimes I wish…] He shrugged, holding his daughter close to him.
[I know what it is to live in the shadows. I am not unhappy with my life; but I wish to spare her the same fate. And you must know this, my love: I would tear this world apart and put it back together again, just to bring the tiniest bit of light into her life]
[You must have hope,] replied Jimaine. [Give it time; the world will learn…]
[They will not.] Was the flat return. [But you are not here to listen to my complaints. I take it the child is healed?]
[Yes, but I have one more favour to ask of you. Her clothes are worn and thick with the poison besides; might you see if they
have spare ones – I think I will burn this lot.]
His eyes showed resignation; Kurt had obviously hoped to avoid too much more interaction with the outsiders. He went to put Talia back in her crib.
As soon as she left her fathers arms, though, she starting crying, a siren-wail that would not cease, despite all Jimi's fussing, until Kurt took her back again. Whereupon she stopped crying, blinked up at him through sapphire-blue eyes, and promptly went back to sleep.
This sequence of events was repeated several times before they gave up. Looking down at the sleeping bundle in his arms, Kurt remarked [And what am I supposed to do now, love?]
Jimaine's eyes suddenly lit up with mischief, and she said [Why not take her with you – she doesn't seem to mind the jump at all.]
Which was true – Talia could sleep through a bamf if she put her mind to it, where as Jimaine always ended up feeling nauseous after even the shortest of journeys; a side-effect that she'd noticed seemed common to most of the people who visited them. If the journey took more than one jump, she usually tried to have a bucket nearby.
Thinking about her suggestion, a slow smile emerged on Kurt's face. [Indeed. Why not?]
The by now well-known scent of brimstone and sulphur hung about her; shaking her head slowly, Jimaine went back downstairs to check on their visitor.
Logan noticed him first; Nightcrawler was leaning up against a tree, golden eyes half-lidded, just watching them. He held something in his arms and from somewhere out of the depths of Wolverines sleep-deprived, worry-addled brain came the thought – ~If he's gone and _shrunk_ Jubilee…~
That irritating fanged grin was back, as well – the 'I know something you don't' look. On Bobby it made him examine all his beer very very carefully before drinking it; on Kurt it was just unnerving.
The boy walked towards him now, as usual, showing no sign of fear – and why should he. Pryde, an accomplished fighter even before she'd gone all single-minded-humourless-killer, hadn't even managed to touch him yet. Perhaps that was why she hadn't pulled out any weapons this time – or it might have had something to do with the scent of her lingering tears, although only a little redness around the eyes remained to betray her to the rest of the world.
Making a mental note to corner Pryde sometime (a difficult task with someone who could walk through walls) and have a good long talk with her (again), Logan approached the boy.
{The girl is healed, and will be returned to you soon. Jimaine requests new clothing for her – what she had on had to be disposed of; it is foul with poison}
Jean had settled back into his mind, and quickly translated; Ororo went to the Blackbird to find the bag she'd quickly packed before they'd left.
The scent of the thing Kurt was carrying wafted over to Logan; he noted it just as the bundle wrigged and then gurgled. Young, human but with that same strange scent… yes, with that same scent on her as that of her father. Wearing only a cloth nappy, the baby turned a little in the confining arms, shoved one furry little fist into her mouth, kicked Kurt, and then was still again.
"What the hell is that?" asked Pryde. Thank whatever Gods might still watch over him that she'd spoken in English; but even the tone of her voice had been enough to make Kurt look up at her, sharply, his gaze and posture once more wary and guarded.
"Mind yer manners, Pryde. It's his daughter." To Kurt he said. {The kid's cute}
He received only a look of contempt. {She is nothing of the sort.}
Ororo returned with the bag, and he slung it over one shoulder, shifting his grasp on the babe, who woke up, sitting in his arms staring at the strangers with wide, bright blue eyes. Her father placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and she babbled nonsense at him, smiling happily.
Kurt just raised those demonic eyes to Logan, and, holding his gaze all the while, said. {She is beautiful.} and then disappeared in another cloud of smoke.
Jubilation Lee examined herself in the
bath. ~Like, eww..~ The
strange blonde woman had explained, in heavily accented English, that she had
been ill and brought here for healing.
But that didn't explain why no-one had bothered to wax her legs while
she'd been out for the count. She looked
like a yeti. Plus she was all pale – underneath the horrible
green gunk, that was.
Okay, so the last thing she remembered had involved a big slimy green
guy with large claws, so that part kinda made sense.
God, her hair was all gross as well. She'd need it cut, and like, a hundred bottles of conditioner. She frowned. Just how ill had she been, anyway?
The blonde woman came back into the room as she was scrubbing the last of the gunk from beneath her fingernails, carrying a bag.
"Clothes for you, Liebling. Are you hungry?"
Actually, she was starving. "Yeah. Have you got anything with, like, lots of sugar in it?"
The woman chuckled. "Ja, I'll see what I can dig up."
By the time the woman came back, she was up and dressed – pair of jeans, old – but warm – sweater. No toiletries, so she was stuck looking like a drowned rat, but at least she was clean. She was about to complain that she didn't need babysitting every step of the way, but the mere act of getting dressed had almost completely worn her out, and she was glad for a helping hand from the woman, who'd introduced herself as 'Jimi', to the kitchen.
A warm apple pie sat on the old wooden table – although two large slices had already been claimed by the other occupant of the room. Jubilee did a double take. He was blue and furry, like Hank, but there the resemblance ended. She'd been a little afraid of Hank until she'd seen his eyes – Hank's were warm, loving, and completely human. This creature had bright yellow eyes, that glowed. And his hands, delicately holding the fork and knife with which he was efficiently demolishing his share of the pie, were three-fingered.
Gingerly, she sat down at the table, two huge pieces of the pie were placed in front of her. She still stole glances at the figure opposite – was that a tail? – until she realised what it was he was holding.
For grabbing onto one of his fingers, and quite effectively preventing further pie consumption, was a baby. She kinda looked like Jimi, but had blue fur, and little fangs. Jubilee's heart melted, while her mind boggled. That would mean that Jimi and this… person… would have to have… well, like,…. y'know…
Her mouth was hanging open, she realised, and she put some more pie in it. The baby really was very cute; and it was hard to be scared of someone who was holding a little kid like that. She smiled, and eyed the remainder of the pie.
Once she was finished, the blue guy handed the baby over to Jimi; not without some trouble, as the kid seemed determined to hold on, and had managed to get her fingers entwined in his chest fur. Then he stood up, brushing apple-pie-crust crumbs off himself.
"Time for you to go back to your friends, little one." said Jimi, handing her the bag, and pushing her gently towards Blue Guy. "Kurt will take you."
Okay, so Blue Guy was Kurt, and he held out one hand to her now. Well, what the hell. Appearances could be deceiving, right? After all, Emma Frost looked normal, and could pretend to be nice when she wanted to be, but really she was what Logan referred to as 'a nasty little piece of work', although Wolvie also had some more colourful terms for Ms Frost, ones only used when he thought the 'children' weren't listening. So it made sense that someone who looked scary could be nice, right?
She took the proffered blue hand, and suddenly she was standing outside, with half the X-Men gathered around her, and rather wishing she hadn't had that third piece of pie. And really wishing she hadn't had the fourth piece of pie. Wolvie was talking to Kurt in what she thought was probably German, and she caught sight of a business card being passed over, along with what looked like a sizeable amount of cash. Kurt hesitated, saying something to Wolvie and pushing the gifts back, but eventually took them.
God, she was tired. Kurt disappeared in a puff of smoke – is that how he'd brought her here? – and Logan came back and picked her up easily. Sleepily, she murmured against his shoulder "Can we come back to visit Jimi and Kurt sometime, Wolvie? She makes good apple pie." He didn't respond, but she wouldn't have heard if she had, as Jubilee, for the first time in a long time, was blessedly, truly, asleep.
Kurt dumped the cash into a cookie jar in the kitchen, letting it mingle with the rest of what was there. Jimaine would help herself the next time they went shopping – or rather, the next time he transported her to one of the nearby towns and she went shopping. He examined the small card with a somewhat larger degree of care, the voice of the strange fellow who he'd assume to be the father of 'Ju-bi-lee' echoing in his head.
~{When you're ready to find out who, and what, you really are, kid…}~
He took another look at the little white card, rubbing one finger over the address imprinted there. Then he went to one of the walls, gently slid a brick out from amongst the others, and carefully stashed the card there with the various other items that went under the heading of 'things Jimi doesn't really need to know about'.
Out of sight, out of mind.
And far, far, away, a shapeshifter paced back and forth, awaiting news. As she walked back and forth, she changed between the elegant, dark-haired figure that was Raven Darkholme, and her 'true form', the one that was generally known as 'Mystique'.
A figure entered.
"Well?" she asked, her irritation showing. "I am losing patience!"
"Do not speak to me as though I was one of your underlings, Mystique." replied her visitor.
"And do not seek to pacify me with more excuses or threaten me like some weakling flat-scan, Magneto." she replied, her voice dripping with venom. "You promised me this; do not go back on your word."
"It is a good thing, then, that the thing is already done." replied Magneto with some amusement, handing her an envelope bulging with papers. "You may relax, Raven. I have found him. I have found your son."
A/N: