Ma Soleil
Chapter Six: Rendezvous
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
Okay, so I KNOW seventeen is underage, but that hasn't stopped the majority of today's youth, right? Besides, I don't think Sabretooth would let that stop him if he knew he was going to marry the girl, anyhow! Oh, yeah, and Creed and Rebecca weren't only married for twelve years, they were married for fifteen. Sorry about that. I can't ever make up my mind.
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
XXX
"Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning."
"Good afternoon, Kitty. This is Rebecca Starsmore. May I come in?"
"Sure. Just a moment." There was a whirr, and the huge wrought-iron gates of Xavier's swung open. She gunned her engine, and sped her sleek Jag up the driveway, parking it with a squeal and slipping up to the more frequently used side-door so as not to make a scene.
Supporting the screen door with her fingertips so as not to allow it to slam shut behind her, Rebecca moved into the mansion, moving from the kitchen to the sitting-room. As predicted, Monet was just shoving a DVD into the player, while Victor lay slouched across the sofa, hands on his stomach.
"Good afternoon, Victor, Miss St. Croix."
Monet whirled around. "Miss Starsmore! We weren't expecting you!"
"Do you mean to say that Logan didn't drop a clue that I would be coming by about this time? What a crying shame."
"I'm sorry we weren't more prepared."
"Hey, frail. How's things?" Creed straightened from his sprawling posture.
"Good, Victor. How are things with you? Relationship problems much?"
"Nope, Monet's a lot better fer my health than you were."
"Quite right. I was literal suicide for an ordinary man." Rebecca smiled and invited herself to a seat near her erstwhile spouse. "Fortunately for Miss St. Croix, you lived through it."
"Yep. Hey, you girls used ta know each other, didn't ya?"
"That's right! You went to high school with my brother, Jonothon. What do you think of his latest album, Stammer Rust in G Minor?"
"I haven't listened to it. In fact, progressive rock isn't my favorite style."
"It's alternative." Rebecca corrected gently, but with enough style to add an underlying punch to the snobbish Monocan aristocrat.
"Well, you must forgive me. Music is only a secondary interest to me. I have X-Cell and other commitments to attend to. So, how have you thrived in the past. . .how long has it been? Sixteen years?"
"Something like that. I've done fairly well for myself, in fact."
"You're a mercenary, if my memory serves me correctly?" Monet's subtle smile said volumes.
"That's right."
"And how are you doing with that? I hear you're working with a Mr. Warden?"
"Chris Warden, yes."
"What?" Victor's spine suddenly snapped rigid. "What the fuck're ya doin' with a ball-less asshole like that?"
"Working. Why, what's he ever done to you?" Rebecca wrinkled her nose in a way she knew made her ex-husband melt.
"Ain't important. What's important is that he ain't all he's cracked up ta be. He's only got popular vote 'cause he's a pretty boy. He ain't no merc."
"Isn't he? So far, he's done well enough."
"Whatchya got him doin'? Deliverin' dispatches?"
"No." she replied, her tone ice-cold. "He was INTERPOL, you know. He's not entirely useless."
"'Entirely' bein' the key word! He's pretty darn much useless. He can't wire a shooter right, don't know nitroglycerine from his momma's milk!"
"Are you saying he's green?'
"That's exactly what I'm sayin'!"
"I'm not precisely a merc-world hotshot, either, darling." She tugged on one of his sideburns familiarly. "You just say everyone's a neophyte because you're three days older than dirt, you ornery cuss." Victor responded with an indulgent smile. "And you're unfortunately proud of it. You need treatment."
"What're you, a detective?" he laughed.
"So, what exactly ARE you doing here, Miss Étoile?" Monet cut in.
"I need a copy of our papers. As I recall, Victor, you got my signature and got out of my apartment like a shot from a gun," she smirked. "Very uncharacteristic, if I may say so, and Nathaniel would have agreed with me,"
Victor growled under his breath. Rebecca was a troublemaker; she was only flaunting her relationship with Sinister to get under Monet's skin. Yeah. Her and the rest of the X-Lot.
"I don't have it yet, but. . ."
"M! Can I have a few words with you?" Jubilee poked her head into the room and beckoned to her subordinate.
"Yes, Jubilation?" Monet said, as she entered the hall and faced her Team Leader, arms crossed over her chest.
"Fer the last time, it's Jubilee, and you haven't gotten your quota Danger Room time this week." X-Cell's leader, no longer a gum-snapping youth but a beautiful woman in her prime, put her hands on her hips and faced the perfectionist egomaniac who'd put her through so many trials during their high school days.
"I was with Victor."
"You could have been with the Majestrix of the Shi'ar Empire, and I wouldn't care less. You need seven more hours of Danger Room Sims in you, and you have about thirty-four hours left in the week."
Monet leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Jubilation, I know we've never been exceptionally close, but. . .Victor has a healing factor, if you know what I mean?"
"M, I dated Jono for six months, and he doesn't get tired. I know exactly what you mean. But that shouldn't compromise your commitment to X-Cell. "
"You haven't told his sister yet, have you?"
"What?"
"You haven't told Mademoiselle Étoile that you were seeing her brother."
"Don't change the subject, M. I'm serious. I'll even do the hours with you, but you need the training time. What are you gonna do if, like, the Phalanx gets resurrected and you have to escape them again, huh? Screw 'em to death?"
"You know something, Jubilation?" Monet fisted her hands at her sides and clenched her jaw. "The moment I begin to believe that you have become a competent leader, and are just as right for your position as Mr. Summers for his, you prove me wrong!"
"I'm not trying to give you proof that I haven't grown up, M. I don't know why, but I'm actually concerned for your safety in a battle situation. It isn't like I'm trying my hardest to be childish because I enjoy your belittling comments. If you're going to argue about this with me, then maybe I should just hand this situation over to X-Man. He seems to be able to handle you so much better!"
"Well, if you're going to threaten me, then I suppose I have no choice but to follow your instructions."
"Jeez Lou-eez, M. Why don't you just grow up? I'm the leader of X-Cell. There's no reason to challenge me on this!"
"Well, then gloat some more, why don't you, you spiteful little bean! Just because you passed those un-rea-sonable tests the X-Men put out and flirted your way into your station doesn't make me any less right for it! Or capable! By all means, I should be the one leading X-Cell!"
Jubilee listened to Monet scream and watched her go blue in the face quite calmly; her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes stone cold. "I'm sorry you feel that way, M. I'll meet you in the Danger Room in what, say twenty minutes?"
"I don't need your condescension. I am quite capable of going through a simple Danger Room Simulation on my own."
"I'm not stoppin' ya." Holding up both hands in a gesture of concession, she watched as the older woman whirled back into the den, holding back tears. "Damn, Cyke, how do ya handle this shit?"
"So, what was that about, darlin'?" Victor inquired when she appeared.
"I actually have some time to make up for in the Danger Room. Surprising how Jubilation thinks she's quite as important as Cyclops now that she's the leader of an X-Team."
"How many hours have ya got left, then, darlin'? I can do 'em with ya."
"No, I'd rather just. . .do them myself. It's only a lot of drill work, and wouldn't want to bore you with it."
"Darlin', if it's tearin' somethin' ta bits. . ."
"I'm going to do endurance tests. I don't know how long I can stand up against you," she pecked him on the forehead, but he pulled her down for a deep lip-lock.
"Victor! We're in public!" Monet deliberately avoided eye contact with Rebecca, who was smirking irreverently at them.
"An' yer my woman. An' I felt like kissin' ya, cause ya have seven more hours in the Danger Room."
"You. . .ah. . .you heard that?"
"Jubilee ain't as subtle as she likes ta think. Fer all her growin' up, she's still pretty darn loud." Victor grinned. "An' I've got enhanced senses."
"Oh." Monet shrugged. "Well, I'll see you later, then."
"See you, Miss St. Croix," Rebecca wiggled her fingers. Monet nodded curtly to her. Once she had left the room, Creed's facial expression transformed from amiable if slightly deranged to feral and infuriated. Lunging across the couch, he pinned his ex's shoulders to the cushions.
"What the fuck're ya playin' at, girl?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Victor," she replied coolly, in a voice which suggested that she would be inspecting her nails had her arms not been restrained.
"Yer tryin' ta make Monet jealous. Why? Ya don't love me, ya never have! So don't come in here an' be all territorial over something ya know ain't yers!"
"I'm not being territorial! I did nothing. Perhaps you're also angry because your lover didn't pass the X-Men's unreasonable tests. What were they, anyhow?"
"Ain't none o' yer business. Why're ya really here?"
"Your memory is none of the best, my darling, really. You made me promise that I'd be here, and here I am. A week or two late, perhaps, but here nonetheless."
"I didn't really expect ya ta come through on this one."
"Why not?"
He slid off her, shoved a hand through unruly blond hair. "I dunno. I just think it would be better if ya left until yer brother comes home. I didn't think this through enough. I didn't know you an' Monet'd be such bitches at each other."
"Excuse me? I was nothing if not a paragon of etiquette!"
"Don't use that high falutin' mumbo-jumbo at me, Beck! An' what the hell is Logan's scent doin' on yer jacket?"
"He took me to Harry's last night, for dinner."
"Like a date? Ain't that just a little kinky, even fer you?"
"No, not like a date. Like a friendly former enemy who is trying to make sure I get proper nutrition. I wouldn't date him!"
"Why not?"
"Redundancy."
"Huh?"
"Our relationship was nothing to boast about, Victor, and I don't. But at times, it must be referred to, if only for the sake of record."
"What exactly are ya sayin' here?"
"I'm saying that any romantic involvement, however unfeasible, that I might have with Wolverine, would too closely mirror that which I shared with you, and I do not wish particularly to repeat that. . .experience."
"Are ya hintin' that I wasn't a good boyfriend?"
"Are you hinting that we had any relationship besides superficial before I was browbeaten into marrying you?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, we didn't."
"I seem ta remember otherwise."
"I sense this turning into an argument, and I don't feel any excessive need to argue with you presently. So how about I just get up and leave before you get any more cross."
"We HAD a relationship, no matter WHAT ya want ta call it!"
"Yes, of course we had a relationship. It was called marriage."
"Before that."
"Before that we had sex. That was all."
"Sex is a relationship."
"I've learned to use a different rulebook since I left you. And sex is NOT a relationship."
"Yeah, it is. It sure as hell ain't platonic!"
"Did I say it was? Perhaps in antediluvian minds, sexual intercourse constitutes a deep involvement, but not today, my dear." She tapped the tip of his nose with her index finger. "I'll just be going now."
"Come ta think of it, I was yer first, wasn't I?"
"Of course you were! I was barely seventeen!"
"So? Essex made me promise that I'd 'take care' of ya when ya were barely twelve! Since he didn't mean take ya out, I guessed he meant marry ya. It ain't like I had anythin' better ta do!"
"So neither of us took our vows very seriously?"
"I did." His voice was low, reluctant.
"That's only because I had a mutation about twenty times more powerful than yours, and that meant you'd really have to stay on my good side."
"Not only that. Hell, it took me years ta give ya up, an' I only did it fer a woman like Monet."
"She's really high maintenance, isn't she?"
"I guess ya could say that. But it's nice, fer once, havin' a woman who cares whether ya sleep with her in yer arms or on yer own side o' the bed." A sudden smile split his face. "Come ta think of it, she's a bit like you."
"I never cared whether you spooned me or curled up alone." Rebecca snorted.
"Yeah, ya did. Ya never admitted it, but ya liked someone else there, holdin' ya."
"And you know this be-caaaause-"
"Because if my sniffer can detect fear, I guess it can also detect content." He shrugged. "Weren't ya goin' somewhere?"
"Oh, yeah, I have to apologize to Kurt for running out on him the other day. Excuse me," she gave him a parting smile, and retreated.
"I'll be damned," Creed rumbled low in his chest, "if that woman ain't gonna be the death o' me."
XXX
Chapter Six: Rendezvous
Disclaimer: All Marvel Characters are the property of Marvel. This is a work of fanfiction, not an attempt to infringe on Stan Lee's personal arsenal of hotties. I can wish all I like, but Sabes is never gonna show up to collect me, and that's that. Oh, yeah, I'm making zero profit off this and if you want Beck, just ask.
Okay, so I KNOW seventeen is underage, but that hasn't stopped the majority of today's youth, right? Besides, I don't think Sabretooth would let that stop him if he knew he was going to marry the girl, anyhow! Oh, yeah, and Creed and Rebecca weren't only married for twelve years, they were married for fifteen. Sorry about that. I can't ever make up my mind.
As always, the lifeblood of the fanfiction author is reviews. I will respect constructive criticism, but flames are sincerely unappreciated. My e-mail address is seraph_taurus@thekeyz.com. Thanks for your time and God bless.
XXX
"Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning."
"Good afternoon, Kitty. This is Rebecca Starsmore. May I come in?"
"Sure. Just a moment." There was a whirr, and the huge wrought-iron gates of Xavier's swung open. She gunned her engine, and sped her sleek Jag up the driveway, parking it with a squeal and slipping up to the more frequently used side-door so as not to make a scene.
Supporting the screen door with her fingertips so as not to allow it to slam shut behind her, Rebecca moved into the mansion, moving from the kitchen to the sitting-room. As predicted, Monet was just shoving a DVD into the player, while Victor lay slouched across the sofa, hands on his stomach.
"Good afternoon, Victor, Miss St. Croix."
Monet whirled around. "Miss Starsmore! We weren't expecting you!"
"Do you mean to say that Logan didn't drop a clue that I would be coming by about this time? What a crying shame."
"I'm sorry we weren't more prepared."
"Hey, frail. How's things?" Creed straightened from his sprawling posture.
"Good, Victor. How are things with you? Relationship problems much?"
"Nope, Monet's a lot better fer my health than you were."
"Quite right. I was literal suicide for an ordinary man." Rebecca smiled and invited herself to a seat near her erstwhile spouse. "Fortunately for Miss St. Croix, you lived through it."
"Yep. Hey, you girls used ta know each other, didn't ya?"
"That's right! You went to high school with my brother, Jonothon. What do you think of his latest album, Stammer Rust in G Minor?"
"I haven't listened to it. In fact, progressive rock isn't my favorite style."
"It's alternative." Rebecca corrected gently, but with enough style to add an underlying punch to the snobbish Monocan aristocrat.
"Well, you must forgive me. Music is only a secondary interest to me. I have X-Cell and other commitments to attend to. So, how have you thrived in the past. . .how long has it been? Sixteen years?"
"Something like that. I've done fairly well for myself, in fact."
"You're a mercenary, if my memory serves me correctly?" Monet's subtle smile said volumes.
"That's right."
"And how are you doing with that? I hear you're working with a Mr. Warden?"
"Chris Warden, yes."
"What?" Victor's spine suddenly snapped rigid. "What the fuck're ya doin' with a ball-less asshole like that?"
"Working. Why, what's he ever done to you?" Rebecca wrinkled her nose in a way she knew made her ex-husband melt.
"Ain't important. What's important is that he ain't all he's cracked up ta be. He's only got popular vote 'cause he's a pretty boy. He ain't no merc."
"Isn't he? So far, he's done well enough."
"Whatchya got him doin'? Deliverin' dispatches?"
"No." she replied, her tone ice-cold. "He was INTERPOL, you know. He's not entirely useless."
"'Entirely' bein' the key word! He's pretty darn much useless. He can't wire a shooter right, don't know nitroglycerine from his momma's milk!"
"Are you saying he's green?'
"That's exactly what I'm sayin'!"
"I'm not precisely a merc-world hotshot, either, darling." She tugged on one of his sideburns familiarly. "You just say everyone's a neophyte because you're three days older than dirt, you ornery cuss." Victor responded with an indulgent smile. "And you're unfortunately proud of it. You need treatment."
"What're you, a detective?" he laughed.
"So, what exactly ARE you doing here, Miss Étoile?" Monet cut in.
"I need a copy of our papers. As I recall, Victor, you got my signature and got out of my apartment like a shot from a gun," she smirked. "Very uncharacteristic, if I may say so, and Nathaniel would have agreed with me,"
Victor growled under his breath. Rebecca was a troublemaker; she was only flaunting her relationship with Sinister to get under Monet's skin. Yeah. Her and the rest of the X-Lot.
"I don't have it yet, but. . ."
"M! Can I have a few words with you?" Jubilee poked her head into the room and beckoned to her subordinate.
"Yes, Jubilation?" Monet said, as she entered the hall and faced her Team Leader, arms crossed over her chest.
"Fer the last time, it's Jubilee, and you haven't gotten your quota Danger Room time this week." X-Cell's leader, no longer a gum-snapping youth but a beautiful woman in her prime, put her hands on her hips and faced the perfectionist egomaniac who'd put her through so many trials during their high school days.
"I was with Victor."
"You could have been with the Majestrix of the Shi'ar Empire, and I wouldn't care less. You need seven more hours of Danger Room Sims in you, and you have about thirty-four hours left in the week."
Monet leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Jubilation, I know we've never been exceptionally close, but. . .Victor has a healing factor, if you know what I mean?"
"M, I dated Jono for six months, and he doesn't get tired. I know exactly what you mean. But that shouldn't compromise your commitment to X-Cell. "
"You haven't told his sister yet, have you?"
"What?"
"You haven't told Mademoiselle Étoile that you were seeing her brother."
"Don't change the subject, M. I'm serious. I'll even do the hours with you, but you need the training time. What are you gonna do if, like, the Phalanx gets resurrected and you have to escape them again, huh? Screw 'em to death?"
"You know something, Jubilation?" Monet fisted her hands at her sides and clenched her jaw. "The moment I begin to believe that you have become a competent leader, and are just as right for your position as Mr. Summers for his, you prove me wrong!"
"I'm not trying to give you proof that I haven't grown up, M. I don't know why, but I'm actually concerned for your safety in a battle situation. It isn't like I'm trying my hardest to be childish because I enjoy your belittling comments. If you're going to argue about this with me, then maybe I should just hand this situation over to X-Man. He seems to be able to handle you so much better!"
"Well, if you're going to threaten me, then I suppose I have no choice but to follow your instructions."
"Jeez Lou-eez, M. Why don't you just grow up? I'm the leader of X-Cell. There's no reason to challenge me on this!"
"Well, then gloat some more, why don't you, you spiteful little bean! Just because you passed those un-rea-sonable tests the X-Men put out and flirted your way into your station doesn't make me any less right for it! Or capable! By all means, I should be the one leading X-Cell!"
Jubilee listened to Monet scream and watched her go blue in the face quite calmly; her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes stone cold. "I'm sorry you feel that way, M. I'll meet you in the Danger Room in what, say twenty minutes?"
"I don't need your condescension. I am quite capable of going through a simple Danger Room Simulation on my own."
"I'm not stoppin' ya." Holding up both hands in a gesture of concession, she watched as the older woman whirled back into the den, holding back tears. "Damn, Cyke, how do ya handle this shit?"
"So, what was that about, darlin'?" Victor inquired when she appeared.
"I actually have some time to make up for in the Danger Room. Surprising how Jubilation thinks she's quite as important as Cyclops now that she's the leader of an X-Team."
"How many hours have ya got left, then, darlin'? I can do 'em with ya."
"No, I'd rather just. . .do them myself. It's only a lot of drill work, and wouldn't want to bore you with it."
"Darlin', if it's tearin' somethin' ta bits. . ."
"I'm going to do endurance tests. I don't know how long I can stand up against you," she pecked him on the forehead, but he pulled her down for a deep lip-lock.
"Victor! We're in public!" Monet deliberately avoided eye contact with Rebecca, who was smirking irreverently at them.
"An' yer my woman. An' I felt like kissin' ya, cause ya have seven more hours in the Danger Room."
"You. . .ah. . .you heard that?"
"Jubilee ain't as subtle as she likes ta think. Fer all her growin' up, she's still pretty darn loud." Victor grinned. "An' I've got enhanced senses."
"Oh." Monet shrugged. "Well, I'll see you later, then."
"See you, Miss St. Croix," Rebecca wiggled her fingers. Monet nodded curtly to her. Once she had left the room, Creed's facial expression transformed from amiable if slightly deranged to feral and infuriated. Lunging across the couch, he pinned his ex's shoulders to the cushions.
"What the fuck're ya playin' at, girl?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Victor," she replied coolly, in a voice which suggested that she would be inspecting her nails had her arms not been restrained.
"Yer tryin' ta make Monet jealous. Why? Ya don't love me, ya never have! So don't come in here an' be all territorial over something ya know ain't yers!"
"I'm not being territorial! I did nothing. Perhaps you're also angry because your lover didn't pass the X-Men's unreasonable tests. What were they, anyhow?"
"Ain't none o' yer business. Why're ya really here?"
"Your memory is none of the best, my darling, really. You made me promise that I'd be here, and here I am. A week or two late, perhaps, but here nonetheless."
"I didn't really expect ya ta come through on this one."
"Why not?"
He slid off her, shoved a hand through unruly blond hair. "I dunno. I just think it would be better if ya left until yer brother comes home. I didn't think this through enough. I didn't know you an' Monet'd be such bitches at each other."
"Excuse me? I was nothing if not a paragon of etiquette!"
"Don't use that high falutin' mumbo-jumbo at me, Beck! An' what the hell is Logan's scent doin' on yer jacket?"
"He took me to Harry's last night, for dinner."
"Like a date? Ain't that just a little kinky, even fer you?"
"No, not like a date. Like a friendly former enemy who is trying to make sure I get proper nutrition. I wouldn't date him!"
"Why not?"
"Redundancy."
"Huh?"
"Our relationship was nothing to boast about, Victor, and I don't. But at times, it must be referred to, if only for the sake of record."
"What exactly are ya sayin' here?"
"I'm saying that any romantic involvement, however unfeasible, that I might have with Wolverine, would too closely mirror that which I shared with you, and I do not wish particularly to repeat that. . .experience."
"Are ya hintin' that I wasn't a good boyfriend?"
"Are you hinting that we had any relationship besides superficial before I was browbeaten into marrying you?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, we didn't."
"I seem ta remember otherwise."
"I sense this turning into an argument, and I don't feel any excessive need to argue with you presently. So how about I just get up and leave before you get any more cross."
"We HAD a relationship, no matter WHAT ya want ta call it!"
"Yes, of course we had a relationship. It was called marriage."
"Before that."
"Before that we had sex. That was all."
"Sex is a relationship."
"I've learned to use a different rulebook since I left you. And sex is NOT a relationship."
"Yeah, it is. It sure as hell ain't platonic!"
"Did I say it was? Perhaps in antediluvian minds, sexual intercourse constitutes a deep involvement, but not today, my dear." She tapped the tip of his nose with her index finger. "I'll just be going now."
"Come ta think of it, I was yer first, wasn't I?"
"Of course you were! I was barely seventeen!"
"So? Essex made me promise that I'd 'take care' of ya when ya were barely twelve! Since he didn't mean take ya out, I guessed he meant marry ya. It ain't like I had anythin' better ta do!"
"So neither of us took our vows very seriously?"
"I did." His voice was low, reluctant.
"That's only because I had a mutation about twenty times more powerful than yours, and that meant you'd really have to stay on my good side."
"Not only that. Hell, it took me years ta give ya up, an' I only did it fer a woman like Monet."
"She's really high maintenance, isn't she?"
"I guess ya could say that. But it's nice, fer once, havin' a woman who cares whether ya sleep with her in yer arms or on yer own side o' the bed." A sudden smile split his face. "Come ta think of it, she's a bit like you."
"I never cared whether you spooned me or curled up alone." Rebecca snorted.
"Yeah, ya did. Ya never admitted it, but ya liked someone else there, holdin' ya."
"And you know this be-caaaause-"
"Because if my sniffer can detect fear, I guess it can also detect content." He shrugged. "Weren't ya goin' somewhere?"
"Oh, yeah, I have to apologize to Kurt for running out on him the other day. Excuse me," she gave him a parting smile, and retreated.
"I'll be damned," Creed rumbled low in his chest, "if that woman ain't gonna be the death o' me."
XXX