A/N: Northstar found a HIV-positive infant abandoned in a dumpster while he was still with Alpha Flight. He adopted the girl, naming her Joanne, but she manifested AIDS and died shortly thereafter.
It occurred to me that if Hank McCoy could cure Legacy, he could cure AIDS. Or at least develop a better treatment. I messed with the time-line a bit, and this story was born.
Dedication: To loving parents everywhere, especially my own. Love knows no limits.
World's Best Dad
Jean-Paul Beaubier slammed the door to his quarters at the Xavier Institute, causing pictures to fall from the wall. Ignoring them, he stormed into his bedroom and slammed that door.
Joanne Beaubier looked up from the TV. "Oookay…Papa?" she called hesitantly. Receiving no answer, she rose and walked to his door, lightly knocking. "Papa, are you alright?"
There were several thumps, then the door opened. Her father stood there, a forced smile on his face. "Sorry, Joanne, I didn't mean to startle you."
Joanne folded her arms determinedly and gave her father her best withering glare. "Papa, come on. What's wrong?" Seeing the unhappiness in his eyes, her heart froze. "Is it back?"
"NO!" Jean-Paul said fiercely, then quieter, "No, Joanne, your blood work came back normal. AIDS free, still."
Joanne breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned. "If that's not it, then what's wrong?"
He ran his hand through his hair. Finally, Jean-Paul replied, "I've just had a long day. Teaching the savages Charles disguises as mutants, and all."
Joanne, though not convinced, decided to let him off the hook. "I'm sorry, Papa," she said sincerely, kissing his cheek. "Is there anything I can do?"
Jean-Paul waived her away. "No, I'm fine. Besides, don't you and Tom have a date soon?"
Her eyes lit up. "You're right! I'd better go, or he'll leave without me!" Running into her room, she grabbed her purse, then returned. "I've got the cell, don't worry."
"Good. Have fun," Jean-Paul said softly.
She flashed him a grin. "With Tom? Always." She was halfway out the door when she turned, a wicked gleam in her eye. "You know, if you would just find yourself a man, we could double date!"
"OUT!" her father roared good-naturedly. Laughing, Joanne obeyed.
His daughter gone, the smile disappeared. Jean-Paul slumped onto his couch and switched on the TV, changing it to the news. His attention, though, was not with the overweight woman warning of falling poultry prices.
It was with his daughter, and her rat-bastard boyfriend.
Being a gay man raising a daughter had made him no stranger to hatred, but never had it hurt so much before. Because this time, he had to let it go, for Joanne's sake.
Northstar had just found out that the boy she was dating, Tom, had been involved in several anti-gay demonstrations, and, ironically, had been a major organizer of last month's rally against gay adoptions. What Jean-Paul wanted to do was take him several thousand feet up into the air and drop him.
What he would do, though, was to say nothing.
Oh, he wanted to, enough. But Joanne loved the boy and, Jean-Paul had to admit, Tom treated her like a princess. And Joanne had had so little pleasure in life, he couldn't deny her this.
Even with Hank McCoy's AIDS treatment, every time Joanne had come down with a cold she'd had to be hospitalized. The precautions that had to be taken to keep her safe unfortunately made it difficult for her to make friends. Little children carried germs, after all.
Even now, at 15, she had to get a daily shot to boost her immune system. And, while she had never complained, Jean-Paul saw her wince every time the needle drew near.
So he wasn't about to make her life more difficult just because she had a gay father. Jean-Paul painfully remembered the time when a young Joanne had come home from school crying. Ellie, one of the few friends Joanne had managed to keep, had refused to talk to her all day. When asked why, she'd only said because Joanne's daddy was a faggot.
Jean-Paul burned with rage, remembering her tiny, tear-stained face.
"What's a faggot, daddy?"
"…it's a horrible word that people use to refer to homosexuals."
The blank look she'd given him had reminded Jean-Paul that he'd never actually told his daughter that he was gay. The talk had been awkward. Years later, Joanne had confessed to him that she'd not understood a word he said, with his long words and formal tone. "You were talking like Hank! But," she'd added cheerfully, seeing her father's hurt expression, "it didn't matter. I knew that Ellie was wrong and that there wasn't anything sick or evil about you."
"Oh?" he'd asked, warmth spreading through his chest, but still curious. "How?"
" Because," she said, hugging him, "you're the world's best dad."
Jean-Paul smiled at the memory. Ellie had never been spoken of again. But that didn't mean anyone took her place. It was a long time before Joanne had another friend her own age.
So, he told himself, you won't mess this up. You'll pretend to like him. You can do it. If you can put up with Worthington for all these years without killing him, you can do anything.
Sighing, Northstar went back to the news and the poultry panic.
With a jolt Jean-Paul awoke. He tensed, prepared to attack, then realized he'd been woken by the slam of the front door.
She may not have my blood, but she sure has my habits, he thought ruefully, eyeing the, once again, fallen pictures.
He heard Joanne slam her door, behind which she screamed with rage.
Jean-Paul Beaubier was a hero. As Northstar, he has been a member of both Alpha Flight and the X-Men. He'd been an Olympic medallist and, though he hated to think of himself that way, a terrorist.
But he was extremely nervous about approaching his daughter's door.
He carefully knocked. "Joanne?"
The door swung open. "Tom's a jerk!" she declared before slamming it in his face again.
Northstar blinked, then opened the door, relieved she hadn't locked it. "Okay, I'm guessing you two had a fight." Yessss!
Joanne was pacing back and forth, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "So, we're eating dinner, and I mention the joke I made about us double dating."
"Uh-oh."
"Yeah, uh-oh! He flipped out, screaming that you were a pervert, a fag, and other things I'm not going to repeat! I nearly slapped him. God, I should have!"
Jean-Paul grabbed his daughter by the shoulders as she passed by him again. "Will you sit down? You're making me dizzy!"
Snorting, she obeyed, sitting on her bed. He sat next to her and noticed, for the first time, that she was crying. "I'm sorry you had to find out he was like that," he said softly.
Joanne stiffened, slowly turning her head to look at her father. "Do you mean you knew?!"
Jean-Paul suddenly realized he had done something very wrong, but wasn't sure what. "Yes," he admitted, "since this afternoon."
"And you let me go out with that creep?!"
He was definitely confused. "I didn't want you to be unhappy."
Joanne stared at him like he'd just said that gravity was made up. "Hello! I'm not going to be happy dating someone like Tom! No one says things like that about my dad!"
Jean-Paul thought he was going to cry. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."
Joanne looked him in the eye, and when she spoke it was seriously. "You're my father. You took care of me, you played with me—hell, you saved my life. You come first, dad."
Jean-Paul pulled her into a tight hug. "Je t'aime," [1] he whispered, tears finally fighting their way free."
"Et je vous aime, mon Père," [2] she replied, hugging him back.
They sat there for a while before pulling apart. Joanne sniffed slightly. "'Course, I don't have a boyfriend anymore."
Jean-Paul laughed. "Neither do I, Joanne."
"Oh, God, we're a twisted Gilmore Girls," she groaned, making Jean-Paul laugh all the harder.
He patted her shoulder. "Come on, 'Rory,' I'll make popcorn and put on a movie."
"Sure, 'Lorelei,'" Joanne replied sarcastically, following him. Suddenly, something occurred to her. "Hey, Papa, how'd you find out about Tom anyway?"
"Ummm…I sorta paid Logan to check him out."
"Papa!"
"Well, I wanted to make sure he was safe," Jean-Paul defended.
Joanne rolled her eyes as she grabbed two sodas. "You're nuts," she called over her shoulder as she flopped on the couch.
And then Joanne Beaubier and her father watched a movie.
[1] I love you
[2] And I love you, my father.