Agent-G: Heh, Marianne is thinking they'll meet at the wedding, what I am thinking might be completely different (insert evil cackle here). Yeah, I liked that part too with the chair and all, but that was purely on accident, I was just typing and suddenly it said that! Getting school to fix mistakes is pain stakingly hard work, they seem to have this complex that makes them think they're better then anyone else.

RedWitch: thanks, I liked that one-shot too. And yeah, I've been busy with math-exam and physics. I passed math, dunno 'bout physics yet, though. And I wasn't planning on stopping writing, I love it too much.

Vacation - Heading out

Michael hated this. Marianne and saying goodbye. He hated it. Well, that and C cutting of the circulation to his leg. Yup, that was right there up the list with the non-likes. The little girl had her arms wrapped tightly just below his left knee. Really, very nice. Feelings leaving his leg? Yup, most certainly. If this went on any longer, he would be in need of Marianne in professional capacity. Nice.

"Goodbye Vincent," Michael led out a breath in relief: finally!

"We'll be in touch, and if you need something, you have my cell-phone number, allright?" Marianne asked Vincent, she had already said goodbye to everyone else. It was now in the afternoon, the same day that Jake and Jill had arrived.

Vincent nodded, grinning, obviously aware of Michael's promblem and enjoying the look on the older man's face. As Marianne turned around, she finally became aware of Michael's predicament and let out a bubble of laughter.

"O dear, C, don't do that. Michael isn't a teddybear," she giggled while prying the child's arms off of he fianc's leg, Michael just grumbled.

"But I don't want you to go," C pouted, trying to latch onto Marianne now, but Marianne carefully avoided that.

"Sweetie, you know we can't do that," Marianne smiled at the girl.

"Yes, but I don't like it!" C crossed her arms as Michael moved his leg to get the blood flowing again, noting for future reference that little girls had too much strength then was healthy for them.

After five more minutes of explaining to C why she couldn't come along, which ended when Rick had her in a hold so she wouldn't cause any more problems.

So after five more minutes, Marianne and Michael were well on their way to Devon and his wife. Which had Michael very nervous.

"Michael? I... eh... forgot to tell you something," Marianne suddenly said, twiddling her thumbs.

"This can't be good. Is this the 'I forgot to tell you that Ben blew up a can of acid' or is another 'I forgot to tell you'?" he groaned, knowing fully well that after that sentence, there usually came some bad news.

"Not the acid, I still quite vividly remember that accident," Marianne joked, "but you're still not going to like it. My dad, he's visiting Devon at the moment."

Very bad news.

Michael had never met Marianne's father, but he knew Marianne cared a lot about her father. It still didn't explain why he nearly never called, or always was out of town when Marianne wanted to see him. Michael didn't like it one bit. Overprotective brother? He could handle that, at least Michael knew for sure that Devon cared about his sister, something he doubted about her father. He never told Marianne about that, but she knew he didn't like her dad.

Quietly, face stern, Michael pulled the car over on the side of the road and turned to look at her: "And you have known this for...?"

"Since yesterday," she smiled weakly at him.

"And you were planning to tell me...?"

"Now?" an even weaker smile.

Michael groaned and rested his head against the steering wheel: this was not happening. This was not happening. Allright. This was happening. Someone up there really hated him. Over protective brother, he could deal with, but a father who he had never met but already harboured a strong dislike towards? No... he didn't think so.

"It's not that bad," Marianne tried.

"You know I don't like him, Marianne, he didn't come to see you when he heard you were still alive, he wasn't there for your graduation. The longest conversation you've had with him since he knew this has been what? Two minutes? On the phone," he looked at her from the corner of his eyes and saw her bite her bottom lip.

"He's just... it is hard on him, alright? He lost his wife, his daughter almost died, turned out to be a mutant, joined the X-Men, almost got killed on a mission and then two years later he hears his daughter isn't dead," Marianne rattled of excuses for him.

Michael shook his head: did she still believe that? Sometimes that tendency of hers to try and see the best in people was very tiresome.

"And look at it this way, now you can meet him face to face and form your opinion about him," Marianne tried again.

"And if I hate him even more?"

"If you prove there is ground to not like my father and I agree with you on that, I'll never try to get you to meet him again," Marianne promised him after a moment of thought. She looked saddened by the fact that Michael didn't like her father before meeting him.

"Hey," Michael noticed this and turned the engine off, "I just don't understand why he wouldn't want to see you, any father would be proud to have a daughter like you."

"Flatterer," Marianne muttered, but smiling again. Satisfied, Michael started the engine again, but with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomache.

Marianne herself also wasn't feeling too well about this. She had covered her scars so no one would see them, if they didn't see them, they wouldn't ask questions about things they didn't need to know and they wouldn't blame Michael.

Her father, Marianne let out a plopping breath, somewhere, she didn't really look forward to seeing him again, that part of her told her that Michael was right about him. But she couldn't give in to that part, could she? He was her father, after all. No, Michael was right in a lot of things, but in this he was mistaken. He had to be mistaken.

The landscape flashed by them, as the drive was silent. Marianne looked out the window, a part of her exited and a part of her wanting to jump out of the car. Michael himself was fighting the urge to turn the car around and drive in a whole different direction.