Crown Of Thorns

Chapter Two: Disclosure

   Sam and I are walking through the corridors of the Xavier Institute, holding each other's hands tightly and trying not to let our hearts crawl out of our mouths. We've decided between us that it's best we tell Mum and Dad about the baby now, before they find out a few months down the line anyway. Sam said it would save us all a lot of headaches if they don't get a nasty surprise when they least expect it – and knowing how many kids his family's had, I can believe he's completely serious about that. So here we are, making our way towards the place in the garden where I can sense my parents and my little brother.

   And I'm bloody terrified.

   Sam isn't much better, though; I can feel him wanting to turn around and walk the other way as fast as he can. I think both of us would much rather get into a fight with Apocalypse than do this right now. I give Sam a pretty half-hearted smile and say "Scared?"

   "Yeah," Sam replies softly. "Never been so scared of anythin' in my entire life." He tightens his grip on my hand then, and brings it to his lips for a moment or two, as if he's trying to give me a little encouragement. "You ready to go do this?"

   "No." I run my hand through his hair, tangling my fingers gently in the blond strands for a moment or two. "You?"

   "No." Sam shrugs, trying to make the small smile on his face widen a little. "Well, I guess we're both in the same boat, leastways." He gestures towards the back door a little way down the hall, and says "Better get this over with, right?" Opening the door for me, he lets me out into the garden before him, and we're suddenly out into the bright sunshine of the summer day that's only a quarter of the way through right now. The trees are all filtering the light through their leaves and casting broad shadows on the ground, and it's next to one of these shadows that Mum and Dad are sitting. Dad has his wings spread out so as to let as much sunlight as possible shine on them, and Mum is quietly playing with Tom (who's quite big now that he's almost four months old – Hank says he might even start crawling soon). Her hair is purple again, and has been for quite a long time now, ever since she and Dad brought me back from Lady Mortis' dimension (she told me that she'd wanted a change from blonde for a while beforehand, actually, but that she'd never got round to doing it because of Tom distracting her so much. Guess she found the time somewhere, though…). It's odd, really, because although I know she used to have it purple all the time, I've only ever seen her blonde. I suppose I'll get used to it in the end, though… Mum won't exactly change it if I don't. She's like that – she does what makes her feel good, and everybody else just has to accept it.

   It's one of the things I like most about her, I think.

   "Hi, Mum," I say, waving with the hand that isn't clutching Sam's fingers in a white-knuckled grip. "Hi, Dad."

   "Hello, button," Mum says, sounding delighted to see me. "Hello, Sam." Dad follows suit, putting down his book and sitting up so that he can talk to us properly.

   "Hey, kids," he smiles. "What brings you out here?"

   Here goes nothing.

   "Um… Dad, Mum… Sam and I have something to tell you," I begin, uncertainly. I can see the expressions on their faces ready to go one way or the other, and the fact that their emotions aren't set either doesn't make me any more comfortable or able to predict what their reaction might be. For a telepath, that's not a nice feeling, and not one I like going through that often. "We… we're… we're having a baby."

   That tears it. The calm atmosphere is ripped to pieces in a fraction of an instant. Mum is up off the ground in half the time it took me to say what I just said, her face twisted with fury. Tom wails against her chest, but she ignores him, so angry is she with what I've just told her. "You idiot," she snarls at Sam, her voice dripping with anger and rage and venom. "You stupid little boy. Do you have any idea what you've done?" She looks almost ready to hit him, but he doesn't do anything. Instead he just stands and absorbs everything she throws at him, looking at the ground like a dog waiting for a beating. Mum storms up to him and jabs a finger in his face, using it almost like the point of a knife. "Do you?"

   "This wasn't his fault, Mum," I say, trying to push between Mum and Sam. Thanks to my slightly above average strength (if I were a normal girl, I probably wouldn't have stood a chance… Mum can be very strong when she's angry), I manage to force Mum back so that I can get her to leave Sam alone. "Don't blame him."

   Mum throws her head back then, and almost screams with laughter. "Oh, really? Is that right? And where was he when this happened, Rebecca – doing press-ups? Watching television? Baking a fucking cake? Who the hell should I blame?"

   "Blame the fact that I asked him to sleep with me, and not the other way around. Blame the condom that ripped when we had sex," I say without flinching, keeping my voice coldly simple and making sure to keep my eyes locked with hers. "Blame Sinister for giving me fake medicine when I tried to get this fixed. This isn't Sam's fault. We tried everything we possibly could to stop this from happening, and it still happened. So you'd better deal with that, Mum, because Sam and I have sure as hell had to deal with it ever since we found out. All right?"

   Mum gets stopped short then, all of her anger hitting an invisible brick wall and getting smashed to bits in an instant. "Oh, God…" she whispers, rubbing a hand over her face. "Oh, Rebecca… I'm so sorry." She takes a deep breath and looks over at Sam then, regret plainly splashed all over her face. "I'm sorry, Sam. Apparently I shouldn't have gone off at you like that."

   Sam eases his shirt collar out a little so that he can breathe again, and then takes a deep gulp of air. "Don't… don't mention it, Mrs Worthington. My momma would've done the same thing, I guess."

   "So… when's it due?" Dad asks as he gets to his feet and stands behind Mum with his arms folded, still looking at Sam with a little bit of suspicion. It doesn't feel very nice to have my father looking at my boyfriend like he's just crawled out from underneath a rock, sure, but I guess under the circumstances, it's understandable. I don't have to like it, but it looks like that's the way things are right now – and like I told Mum, I'm going to have to deal with it…

   "Hank didn't think it'd be much before February," I tell him, as certainly as I can. "Right now everything's still pretty vague."

   Dad nods, a thoughtful look crossing his face for a second or two. "Are you going to keep it?" he says, sounding pretty unapologetically blunt.

   "Yes," Sam says, his voice regaining some of its old strength. "Bec and I talked this through together, and neither of us wants to give it up or get a termination." Dad opens his mouth to begin speaking again, but Sam cuts him off almost before he has a chance to give voice to the thoughts I can feel in the centre of his skull. "I know what you're gonna say, sir, and I can promise you, I ain't gonna leave Bec on her own with this kid. I'll swear that on a stack of Bibles if you want me to."

   "I hope you're telling the truth, Sam," Dad says quietly. "Because if you leave my little girl when she needs you most –"

   Sam steps right up to Dad then, so that they are nose to nose, and he glares at Dad with his eyes reduced to narrow slits. "I know what it's like to grow up without a daddy, sir. I ain't gonna put our kid through that if I can help it." He takes a few paces backwards then, rubbing his neck almost guiltily, and takes another deep breath to gather his thoughts. "Look, sir... my own daddy died when I was fifteen, an' I had to take his job in the mines just to make ends meet. I had to earn the money to get food an' clothes for little Paigey an' the rest of my brothers an' sisters. Me. Nobody else. Not even my momma." He pauses again, shrugging. "That oughtta tell you I know somethin' about responsibility." He's acting so differently to a few moments ago (when he was just taking everything Mum was throwing at him without complaining) that it's hard for me to understand why he would choose now to state his case so angrily, although the fact that his thoughts are telling me the same thing as his words are – that he's furious at being seen as somebody who'd run away from responsibility at the first sign of trouble – is probably the main reason.

   "All right, Sam," Mum says, nodding slightly as she rocks my brother to and fro a little, to try and get him to settle back down. "I believe you. But I want the pair of you to understand… this is not a game. This is a lifetime commitment."

   "I know, Mum," I reply, touching my belly for a second or two, as if I'm expecting to feel the pulsing heart of my baby through my skin. "I've seen you and Dad with Tom, remember?"

   Mum half-smiles at that. "Yes, I know that, button, but you haven't seen your father and me being kept awake at three in the morning because your brother won't settle in the evening, or because he needs a midnight feed, or because he needs his nappy changed. This won't ever be easy, Rebecca. I just want you to understand that – before you wander into it unprepared and get the shock of your life." Her smile blossoms then, and she gestures at my little brother with a slight dip of her head. "I'm not trying to scare you away from this – truly I'm not. My life has been so much richer since you and Tom came along, but the first few months were really tough – both times. Just… be prepared, my darling. That's all you can ever do." She gently hands Tom to Dad then, and cautiously steps forward to put her arms around me and press my head to her shoulder. "I'll be here for you if you need anything, I promise." Then laughter ripples across the front of her mind and from between her lips, and she says "Just don't ask me to breastfeed your baby for you. I have enough trouble with my own son, thank you."

   "Okay, Mum," I say, leaning in close to my mother as her arms hold me to her. I can feel a big stupid smile spreading across my own face right now, and it's such a relief. I was expecting so much worse, after all… "Would you like me to start calling you Grandma Worthington now, just so you get used to it?"

   Mum withdraws a pace and gives me a narrow-eyed look then. "Don't push your luck, button. I'm not an old lady yet, you know."

   "Plenty of women are young grandmothers these days, though, Mum," I say, deciding to push my luck about as far as it can go. "Jean is, you know – Cable had a son in the future. His name was Tyler."

   Making a face, Mum folds her arms. "Yes, well… being so much like Jean would be… interesting, but I'd like to avoid that, if you don't mind. I like being me a lot better, after all." She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then says "I suppose you can tell your baby they can call me Granny Betsy if they like. Anything's better than 'Grandma Worthington'." Sighing, she mutters "Now I remember why I wanted an uncomplicated life…" before she touches my face with her hand and smiles again. "But then again, I suppose I can get used to this one, too."

   "Thanks, Mum," I say, shifting my hand up to Mum's so that I can squeeze it gratefully. "'Granny Betsy' it is, then, I guess."

   Dad takes a deep breath then and offers his hand to Sam. "Congratulations, son," he says after a short pause. I can tell he's still not entirely happy about this whole situation, but he's trying to get more comfortable with it – if only for my sake, and for Mum's. "Let me know if you guys need anything."

   Sam looks at Dad's extended hand for a moment or two and then takes it cautiously, saying "Um… thanks, Mr Worthington."

   "No problem, kid," Dad says, offering Sam as reassuring a smile as he can. "Anything I can do to help, just say so." He gives me a smile then, too, and walks over to enfold me tightly in his arms. "Don't be afraid to ask, all right?"

   "All right, Dad," I say, suddenly feeling a lot happier than I had expected to ten minutes ago. I can still sense that there are lots of things I need to work out, but all in all, things are looking up…

*

   Sam and I spend the next hour or so talking with Mum and Dad about the early weeks and months of pregnancy, and Mum leaves nothing to the imagination (from what she tells me, it's actually pretty surprising that anybody ever has more than one child. Some of the things that can go wrong made me feel really ill). Sam goes a bit green from time to time, and it makes me laugh – after all, he's not the one who's going to have to go through it.

   When she's finished telling me all about what a rough time I'm going to have, Mum asks Dad and Sam if they wouldn't mind leaving the two of us be for a little while. Without another word, the two of them make a quick exit, moving away to join in the game of catch that the rest of the team's men (except Bishop, naturally) are playing, and then it's just Mum and me.

   "This is going to be a strange time for all of us, button," she says, as we sit on the ground facing each other. "I want you to know that whatever you need, I'll give you, no questions asked."

   I nod, gratefully. "I know, Mum. Thank you." Mum winks then, happy to see me feeling so relaxed about this whole situation.

   "Good girl," she says appreciatively, before she gets to her feet and continues "I have something I want to give you." She pauses for a second, before qualifying that statement with "For the baby." Offering me her hand, she helps me get to my feet, and then she starts to lead me towards the mansion, my hand still in hers. We walk across the mansion's lawn and up to the back door, and then move through into the front hall and grand staircase, before Mum leads me up to the room she shares with Dad. When she has got me sat down in a chair on the far side of the room from where her and Dad's bed is, she looks around under the bed for a moment or two, before she brings out a small leather case. "A-ha!" she exclaims, triumphantly. "Here we are…" Thumbing open the locks on the case, she flips open the lid and begins emptying out the contents onto the duvet. She brings out a couple of small scrapbooks, a few old, faded photographs, and a small number of bags of marbles, before she finally finds what it is she's been looking for. "I want you to meet somebody," she says, holding up a small stuffed rabbit. His fur is going threadbare in a few places, and he has an almost sad, but contemplative look on his face. "This is Mr Poo – I took him everywhere when I was a little girl, and I kept him with me even when I grew up, to remind me where I'd come from." I even slept with him a few times after Kwannon came back, she sends to me, as if she doesn't want anybody else to know – perhaps because she thinks it might compromise the image she's built up around the rest of the team. I needed a good cuddle then, that's for sure. Then, she takes my hand and carefully but firmly slips the little toy into it. "I want your baby to have him."

   "I… I don't know what to say, Mum," I tell her, truthfully.

   Mum chuckles then, and closes my fingers over the rabbit. "Just say 'thank you', button. That's all I'm after."

   "Thank you," I say, feeling a little lump come to my throat as I do so. "I think I need one of those cuddles now. I'm so scared, Mum." Mum moves forwards just a little then, and presses me to her, kissing me on the cheek with a feather-light touch of her lips.

   "Don't be," she says. "You're not alone, Rebecca. You have me, your father, your uncle Scott, Jean, and most of all you have the father of your child all here for you. We're not going to let you do this all by yourself, you know." A little touch of laughter flutters at the edge of her mind and from between her lips as she continues "You were here for me when I was pregnant with Tom – do you think I wouldn't return the favour, just to drive you as far up the wall as you did me?"

   That makes me laugh, too – if there's one thing Mum is good at, it's being able to break tension. "Oh, now I'm really worried."

   Mum gives me her best screen villain cackle and evil grimace. "Be afraid, button. Be very afraid." Then she takes me by the hand and leads me back out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the garden again, before she picks up a Frisbee that is lying on one of the wooden benches on the terrace of the mansion, and holds it up. "Would you like to play catch?" she asks. "I think it's a great way to spend an afternoon – it's much more relaxing than a Danger Room programme, for one thing, and there's no risk of serious personal injury." She grins then, naughtily. "Of course, Danger Room programmes and the risk of serious personal injury have their advantages too, but in your condition…"

   I roll my eyes. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

   "Absolutely," Mum replies, candidly. "I got so sick of people saying that to me when I was carrying Tom – I think it's high time I got to do the same thing to somebody else. Turnabout is fair play, after all."

   "I hate you," I say, sourly, before grabbing the Frisbee out of Mum's hand and throwing it halfway across the garden, hitting Bobby in the back of the head. When he turns around to see who threw it, his eyes looking slightly glazed, I point at Mum without hesitating. "She did it!" I shout, giving Bobby my best "butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" look. Then I glance at Mum, who is standing with her hands on her hips, almost demanding to know what I'm playing at, and I say "What was that about turnabout being fair play?"

   The look on Mum's face says it all…