Crown Of Thorns,

Chapter Nine: And Then There Were Three

Sam and I are sat in the garden of the mansion, lying on a blanket and watching our little girl, our little Hannah, as she suckles hungrily from my left breast. Mum warned me about what this would feel like, but I can't really see any down side to it at all. It still feels a little strange, sure, but it's the best way I can think of for me and my daughter (I'm still getting used to that part, too; it wasn't so long ago that I was the baby of the family…) to bond. I'm still surprised Hank let me out of the med-lab this soon, though – he wouldn't hear of Mum leaving until at least a full fortnight after my little brother was born, and then only after a lot of persuasion (and a little bribery) on Dad's part. Perhaps he just has that much more confidence in my healing abilities than he does in Mum's… but then again, I haven't had to go through what Mum went through before she had my little brother, so I've probably got an advantage there as well. Either way, here I am, lying in the garden and enjoying the mid-day sunshine and not regretting one moment of it.

"Greedy little thing, ain't she?" Sam says in a soft whisper, as he reaches out and brushes his fingers against her tawny fur. She gurgles quietly as she feels him touching her, and her own tiny hands unfurl as she does so, showing us the equally small claws on her fingertips. Sam smiles at those and laughs broadly. "Tell you what, honey – I ain't lookin' forward to when she gets teeth, if they're goin' to be anythin' like that."

I nod in agreement. "Me neither," I say quite honestly. "I really hope she doesn't start catching mice when she gets older."

"Trust me, Bec," Sam begins, "the only bad thing about that would be if she started dropping bits of the damn things on our bed. You wouldn't believe how many mice live in a place this big."

"It can't be that many, surely – I mean, Charles has the pest-control people in here so often. That must have an effect, right?" I say, not quite sure if he's telling the complete truth or not. Sam nods, as if he can feel my doubts.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he replies, shrugging. "Too bad it doesn't often work out that way, then." He chuckles. "I once came face to face with this huge rat while I was cleaning out the Danger Room's controls – I swear, the thing nearly took my hand off, it was so big. If this little lady can get rid of critters like that, then she can do it as much as she wants, as far as I'm concerned." He reaches down and strokes our daughter's furry cheek again as I close my blouse and let her start digesting her lunch, after making sure to burp her. "I just don't want her bitin' me, that's all."

"I'm sure she wouldn't do that unless she was really annoyed with you, Sam," I say, trying to sound as reassuring as I can. Then a naughty thought passes across the front of my mind, and I just have to share it with him. "And I don't bite unless you want me to, remember? I'm sure our daughter's just the same."

Sam covers his face with his hands, before drawing them down his cheeks and stretching the skin out ever so slightly, so that the edges of his eyes are angled downwards for a moment. "Oh, man," he says, in disbelief. "I can't believe you just said that. Who knows who might be listenin'?" He brushes my face with his hand then, a brief smile passing across his lips. "Guess your momma still needs to give you those lessons on tact, huh?"

"Shut up, Sam," I retort, laughing. "I'm perfectly tactful. I wouldn't say anything like that if I didn't think we weren't on our own, you know."

"Is that right?" Sam replies, putting a hand to his chin. "Pardon me if I don't take you at your word, honey, but I've seen you drunk as a lord and tellin' everybody around you absolutely everythin' you can think to tell 'em. You got looser lips than Jubilee when you've had a few drinks, you know."

"You liar," I say, pursing my lips and giving him my best 'I hate you' glare. "I've never been more than tipsy in my entire life. And considering how long I've actually been alive, that should tell you something, right?"

"Yeah," Sam chuckles. "It tells me you don't remember the times you've been so drunk you couldn't even stand up straight. Boy, there was one time when –"

"I'm really going to hit you in a second, Sam," I say flatly. "You make me sound like a completely different person."

Sam holds his hands up defensively, and shakes his head. "Okay, okay, you win." Then, he leans forwards and kisses me on the forehead, stroking my cheek for a moment before he touches his lips to mine. "Wouldn't have you any other way, you know."

"Creep," I reply, running my hand through his hair. "Same to you, by the way."

Sam grins, and kisses me again. "Good to know it, darlin'." Then he nods towards the mansion. "You know, we're gonna have to show the others our kid sooner or later. You want to talk about that now?"

"I don't suppose I have much of a choice, really, do I?" I sigh. "Couldn't we just do it a few people at a time? I don't want everybody in the mansion crowding round her and freaking her out, that's all. It worked for Mum when she had Tom, after all."

"Well, now's your chance," Sam says, and points to his right. Following his finger, I find myself looking in the direction of Bobby and Emma as they're walking through the gardens hand in hand, chatting and laughing and almost oblivious to everything else. It's weird seeing Emma so at ease with somebody like that (most of the time she looks like she just scraped everybody she sees off the bottom of her designer boots), but I suppose if she enjoys something, she's likely to flaunt it. Based on what my memory implants taught me about Emma, that sounds pretty much like something she'd do. "You want to show Bobby and Miss Frost our new arrival?"

"Maybe we should wait until Bobby's by himself?" I suggest, carefully. "I'm pretty sure Emma won't like being around another baby – she barely survived Tom being born, after all."

"Ah, she'll come round to her, I bet," Sam laughs. "Come on – we won't know she won't like it until we try her, will we?" He takes Hannah from my arms and then – somehow – helps me get to my feet, before handing our daughter back to me with an encouraging look on his face. "It'll be fine, honey, I promise." Hannah mews softly then, as if she's agreeing with her father, and his encouragement turns to laughter. "See? Even she thinks so."

"I suppose I'm out of options then, aren't I?" I say, rolling my eyes. "All right, Sam, I'll do it… but on your head be it, okay?"

"Good girl," Sam chuckles, before he raises one hand in the direction of Bobby and Emma and loudly says "Bobby? Miss Frost? Could y'all come here a moment, please?" As soon as he says that, I can see Emma rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her ample – and obviously fake, according to Mum – bosom as Bobby quickly scampers towards us like a little boy after too much sugar, before she throws her hands to the sky in exasperation and then begins walking back towards the mansion.

"Hey, snowdrop," Bobby says when he's close enough to talk to me normally. "Sorry about Emma. She's not really a baby person – but then again, I guess you worked that one out, huh?" He pauses and then looks down at my little girl. "So I guess this is the new new arrival?" He bends down and begins to inspect Hannah as she lies in my arms, rubbing her feline nose with her small furry fingers. "She's… um… she's pretty different from you and Sam, Rebecca. You sure you didn't run off with Logan while we weren't looking?"

That makes me laugh. "No, Bobby, I most certainly did not do that. Uncle Logan's too hairy for me, anyway." Then I nod down towards Hannah and say "So what do you think of her?"

"Personally?" Bobby says thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with one hand. "Personally, I think she's beautiful. What's her name – or don't you know that one yet?"

"Her name's Hannah," I tell him. "Hannah Henrietta Bobbi Guthrie." I pause, lifting my shoulders in an almost sheepish shrug. "Or it will be when Sam and I get married, anyway."

"Oh my." Bobby says, his eyes bulging in shock. "Seriously?"

I nod. "Seriously. Sam and I discussed it, and he thought it was a great idea, too."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "I'd love it if my little girl was named after two of the original X-Men. That sound like a good idea to you?"

"Are you kidding? I think it's a fantastic idea." Bobby murmurs as he brushes his fingers against our little girl's arm and gazes at his new "niece" in wonder. Then he smiles at her and whispers "Hear that, honey? You're going to have my name." He leans closer then and continues "If I were you, I'd use that one all the time. It's the coolest name ever."

"No pun intended, of course," I say, one eyebrow raised gently. Then, I nod down to Hannah and hold her out towards Bobby. "Would you like to hold her? It's not difficult."

"Easy for you to say, kid," Bobby says, suddenly sounding very nervous. "What if I drop her? I'd never forgive myself."

"You won't drop her if you do as I tell you, Bobby," I reply. "Didn't you get any practice with my little brother?"

"Well, sure," Bobby begins, a little defensively, "but he didn't have claws. What if she cuts me and makes me let go?"

"She hasn't done that to anybody else, Bobby," I tell him firmly, just to put his fears at rest. "Her claws couldn't cut butter at this point. Here, let me show you how to do it…" Stepping forwards, I let Bobby take Hannah from my arms and get him to support her head and back as fully as he can, and smile as his face lights up like a little boy on Christmas morning. As he does so, Hannah squeals quietly and shifts herself in his arms to make herself more comfortable. Then, she opens her yellow eyes a little and meets his gaze with a slightly hazy look of her own, her vertical pupils wide even in the early afternoon light. She yawns, pulling her feline lips over her pink, toothless gums, and goes back to sleep, nestling herself in the crook of Bobby's arms without a care in the world. I smile broadly and nod to Bobby. "See? It's not so hard when you try, is it?"

"I… uh… guess it isn't," Bobby admits sheepishly. "You… you're not going to ask me to change her diaper too, are you? 'Cause if you are, I told your mom the same thing I'm going to tell you – I suck at changing diapers. I really, truly suck. I'm sucktacular. I'm the King of Suckvania. I –"

"Okay, Bobby, I get your point," I tell him quickly (because I can tell that if I don't stop him now, he'll go on for a while yet). "I promise we'll never ask you to change her nappy."

"'Nappy'?" Bobby says, chuckling. "That's what you Limeys call diapers, right?" I nod, and Bobby's smile widens. "I don't think I'll ever understand where you guys get some of your words from," he says brightly, before he looks down at the small figure in his arms and murmurs "Don't worry, kid, I'll teach you the proper way to talk."

"If you don't mind, Bobby," Sam interrupts, a wry grin splashed onto his face, "I think Bec and I can do that. Don't want her talkin' like she just fell out of the TV, do we?"

Bobby makes a face. "I'm wounded, Sam. I am positively wounded. Why, the only person who talks better than me around these parts is Hank – and he's not here right now. So you're going to have to take what I give you and like it, young man." Hannah coughs a little then, and begins to wail in a high, keening tone, prompting Bobby to instantly look panicked. "Uh… a little help?" he asks, a desperate edge coming into his voice. Closing my eyes, I reach into her mind to see what's bothering her, and once I've determined what that is, I smile. At least it's nothing life-threatening right now, anyway…

Reaching forwards to take Hannah back from Bobby, I give him an encouraging look. "It's okay, Bobby – she just wanted to come back to Mummy, that's all."

Bobby breathes an audible sigh of relief, and wipes some imaginary sweat from his brow. "That's cool. I thought my aftershave might have got her upset, or something. It's happened often enough with Emma, after all."

After a few more moments of chatting with Bobby, Sam and I start making our way back towards the mansion, with Hannah nestling in Sam's arms and slumbering quietly after we had managed to get her to go back to sleep. Sam brushes some of her cheek fur back into its proper place with a tentative movement of one hand, and nods down towards her. "I reckon we should take advantage of this while we can, don't you? Might not get another chance at peace and quiet for a while yet, you know."

"You think so?" I say, glancing up at his boyish features as short lengths of blond hair flop down onto his forehead, and then looking down at our daughter and tucking her blanket more closely around her so as to keep out the slight breeze. It's the same light blue Donald Duck blanket that Dad bought Mum when Tom was born, so it's become a sort of family heirloom. It's not much, sure, but it matters to us, and Hannah seems to like it just as much as her uncle did when he was a baby, so that's really all that matters. She flexes her clawed fingers on its edge and begins to dream, blurry colours and sounds flowing gently through her mind from a strange mixture of different sources. I can feel her immature brain still trying to make sense of what she's experienced in the past few days, and somewhere in the jumbled mess of light and noise, I can see brief flashes of Sam and I looking down at her – at least, that's what it seems to be, anyway; it's too blurry to really tell what it is she's seeing. "She's dreaming," I tell Sam in a whisper. "She's dreaming about us."

"Well, I guess we have been a pretty important part of her first few days here at the mansion," Sam says, smiling. "I think it's obvious she'd be thinkin' about us. Only thing that really would get me worried is if she started dreamin' about Bobby."

That makes me laugh. "I suppose that would be worrying, wouldn't it?" Then, turning back towards the mansion, I can see Kurt and Cecilia sitting on the porch outside, eating some ice cream and laughing as they talk to each other, in between sharing the occasional kiss. After taking a spoonful of ice cream from the bowl in his left hand, Kurt uses his tail to reach up and stroke Cecilia's cheek, its pointed tip drawing a line down from her ear to her lips. When it reaches her mouth, Cecilia kisses it playfully – and then looks embarrassed as she sees Sam and me approaching. When Kurt notices her expression changing, he turns to see what has affected her and then sees us. His furry face splits into a wide, fanged grin then, and he teleports closer to us in an instant, the pungent stench of brimstone filling the air for a moment or two until the breeze carries it away.

"Guten tag, you two," he says. "I trust you are having a good day?" Then he leans forward and touches Hannah gently with the tip of one large finger. "And I trust that this little one is on her best behaviour, ja?"

"Just about," I say, brushing some hair out of my face with my right hand. "She can be quiet sometimes, but she can make a lot of noise when she feels like it, too."

"She sounds suspiciously like someone else I know," Kurt chuckles, winking one of his yellow eyes. "Come, sit with Cecilia and me. I'm sure she would like to hear what you have been doing today, after all. We'll even let you share our ice cream, if you like."

"Thanks, Kurt – that's real kind of you," Sam says gratefully, and so Kurt leads us over to the swinging chair that he and Cecilia had been sharing, ushering us towards a couple of deck chairs that are unfolded and set in the direction of the horizon, and covered with a couple of patterned blankets.

"Hi, kids," Cecilia says, waving her spoon at us as we sit down. "I see you brought your new bundle of joy with you. How's she behaving herself so far, Rebecca?"

"Well, like I just told Kurt…" I begin, with not a little hesitation, "she's quiet when she wants to be quiet, but she wants to be loud much more often."

"I can relate to that," Cecilia replies, rolling her eyes. "Living around this madhouse, I can definitely relate to that. I mean, I can't even remember the last time Kurt and I could afford to spend a full evening together – I'm on call 24/7, and he's an X-Man 24/7… it's tough fitting our lives around that, you know?"

"I suppose it must be," I say, thoughtfully. "I also suppose Mum would say that that sounds just like being a parent – and I'm beginning to see why. Hannah's only a few days old, and already I have totally lost count of the number of times I've had to put her needs before mine." Reaching over to Sam, I take Hannah back into my arms and cuddle her gently, kissing her furry forehead with a brief, fleeting touch of my lips against her insulated skin. She whimpers in a low, keening tone when I stop, but she soon calms down and begins to find her ideal sleeping position – after the day she's had, she must be exhausted, after all. Kurt sees her shifting slightly and leans forwards to see more clearly what she's doing.

"Ach, I remember your little brother doing this," he says. "Your mother was very tolerant of his moving about, too – but do you find you have the same problems as she did during the earliest weeks of her motherhood? The impatience to get out and do things?"

"No, not really," I reply, shrugging my shoulders as best I can. "I mean, yes, I do wish I could still do some of the things I did before Hannah arrived, but not as much as I like being around Hannah. That's the best thing in the whole world."

"Better than the Danger Room?" Cecilia asks, grinning.

"A million times better," I tell her, returning her grin with a broad, slightly sheepish smile of my own. "Thank you for bringing that up, though. I hadn't quite forgotten how stupid I was then, after all."

Cecilia bows at the waist slightly, and raises her bowl to me in acknowledgement. "I live to serve." Then, Kurt reaches forwards and gestures towards Hannah as she sleeps, pointing at her with one large forefinger.

"May I ask you something, Rebecca – Sam?" he says curiously, but also a little warily. "Would you let me pray over your child? I am not a priest, I know, but I wish to give her my blessings, just as I did with Tom – and I think that the Lord will not frown on someone doing that, do you?"

"I… don't really know," I say. "I don't know that much about God."

"I think it's a great idea," Sam exclaims quickly, rescuing me from my discomfort. It shouldn't take long, right, Kurt?"

Kurt looks delighted then, and he nods. "No, it should not take very long." Then he closes his eyes, and Sam and Cecilia both do the same. Feeling a little awkward, I follow suit and then hear him start to pray. "Heavenly Father, bless this child as she begins her journey through life. We ask that she be sheltered from the storms that life may direct at her, and given every chance to become all that she can possibly become. Bless Sam and Rebecca as they embark on a journey of their own, as they begin to learn what it means to be parents – may they find every day to be a fresh experience. Father, we ask that you bless this new family and ensure that they are protected from harm. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost… amen."

As I open my eyes, I find Kurt gently marking a cross on Hannah's forehead with his fingertip. "There, little one," he murmurs, smiling. "The Lord will smile on you – of that I am certain." Then, he glances up at me. "She is truly beautiful, Rebecca… she must take after her mother."

Cecilia rolls her eyes. "You just can't help yourself, can you? I swear, Rebecca, I can't take this guy anywhere when there are other girls around… it's like waving a copy of Hustler in front of a teenage boy."

"Ach, you should learn to lighten up a little, liebchen," Kurt chuckles, tickling her face with his tail. "You are the only one for me – you know that. I am just… giving my personal opinion about Rebecca's baby. Is that really so bad?"

"Absolutely," Cecilia laughs. "I see I'm going to have to keep reminding you of exactly why that is…"

In the early evening, Sam and I are sitting with Mum and Dad in the rec. room, while Hank plays some Beethoven on the piano in the corner and Tom sits on the rug in front of us, playing noisily with his building blocks and occasionally chewing on an old teething ring.

"So, button, did you have a good day?" Mum asks me, sipping from her tea cup and taking a bite of her chocolate-chip cookie. Picking up one of my own from the plate that sits on the glass coffee table between us, I nod enthusiastically and take a large bite of my cookie.

"Yes, we had a great day – didn't we, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam agrees, shifting Hannah in his arms a little. "Bec and I decided not to have a large meeting so we could introduce Hannah to everyone, so we're just findin' all the X-Men an' introducin' them to her one by one, or in pairs. We thought it'd be better for her not to get too overwhelmed so soon."

"That sounds like a very good idea," Dad says thoughtfully. "So are we the first?"

"Sorry, Dad, but no," I tell him. "We met Bobby and Emma in the garden at lunchtime, and Bobby loved her. Emma didn't want to know, though."
"Doesn't surprise me," Mum says. "Who else have you see today, then?"

"We saw Kurt and Cecilia too." I pause. "Kurt… um… well, he prayed for Hannah. Did he do that for Tom as well?"

"Yes. I thought it was nice that he thought so highly of him," Mum smiles. "He just wants to show that he loves Hannah just as much as he loves you, that's all. It's like Logan building you that cradle, or Scott asking if he can look after her for a little while every so often – they all love Hannah very much, and they all want to show it in their own way. Kurt asking God to bless her is just his way of expressing that love."

"It's true. I'd go with it, kid," Dad echoes. "This house is full of love, even if some of us don't really get along that well. Pretty much every X-Man here wants the best for your little girl, just like they do for your brother. And hey, you're getting free stuff – that can't be bad, huh?"

"Thanks, Dad," I say dryly. "Just like you to give me the financial benefits of having a child."

"Don't be too hard on your father, button," Mum laughs. "He tries hard."

"Gee, thanks," Dad protests. "Sam? Hank? A little help?"

"Much as I would love to intervene, Warren, I have to say I agree with your wife's assessment of the situation," Hank says, as he closes the lid on the piano and walks over to sit with us, easing his large body into an armchair across from where Sam and I are sitting.

"Sam?" Dad asks desperately.

"Hey, Warren, I ain't gettin' involved in this one," Sam replies, laughing. "If I've learned one thing, it's that puttin' my neck on the line for you is a bad idea."

Dad scowls. "Okay, be like that, you two. I'll just sit here and take whatever my wife and daughter are going to throw at me. I hope you're proud of yourselves."

"Oh, don't be like that, Warren," Mum coaxes him, winking. "You know we all think you're super really."

"Absolutely," Hank agrees. "Why, I can't think of a better man to borrow Twinkie money from. You're always fair with your rates of interest and won't ever chase up a debt until you really feel it's necessary." He pauses, watching Dad's indignant expression with great amusement. "And of course, if there's one other thing I would trust you with, it's my life."

"Thanks, fuzzy," Dad says, relieved. "Knew I could count on you."

Hank leans forwards in his chair, bobbing his head low for a moment. "It was my privilege and my pleasure, Warren."

Just then, Tom gets up off the floor and totters slowly over to where Mum and Dad are sitting. His steps are still a little slow and tentative, but he's getting stronger with every step. When he reaches Mum, she picks him up and puts him in her lap. "Hello there, sweetheart," she says. "Are you sitting comfortably?"

Tom smiles enthusiastically, sucking messily on one small finger before he leans over to see his new niece. Then, he points at her with that same finger and says, in a soft but confident voice, "Bear." Looking at Hank, he points at him as well, saying "Bear" again, a little more loudly this time.

As Mum and Dad gasp excitedly and begin fussing over my brother's first word, I see Hank raising his shaggy eyebrows and putting one hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Yes – yes, I suppose we are," he murmurs, looking down at Hannah with his clear blue eyes and reaching down to stroke her fur with one hairy hand. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hannah."

Fin.