"Wait just one minute!" Emma yelled at the poor man sitting across from her in the conference room. The one Bobby had been calling 'Frosty's next victim' for half the day. "You do not seriously mean to tell me that you are sending my boy home!"

"Ms Frost, please..." Dr. Nighelli attempted to explain.

"I will not 'please'! My child is sick, and you are just going to send him home! What the hell kind of institution are you people running here?!" Never in his life had Bobby actually seen Emma get red in the face like this, not even during active labor. He was certainly glad that he was not Dr. Nighelli.

"Em, love, please. Th'man does have a point."

"You stay out of this Cassidy! I've never told you how to take care of your child, don't attempt to tell me how to care for mine." Bobby was also glad that he was not Banshee. "Now you cannot possibly believe that my son, who is still nauseous from his last round of chemotherapy by the way, does not need to be in a medical facility."

That look on her face, the one Bobby knew like the back of his hand, the one that said 'if I can't convince you to change your mind, I'll MAKE you change your mind', was starting to appear. It was time for him to step in before poor Dr. Nighelli found himself back in medical school, probably as a cadaver. "Emma, there's nothing they can do for Mikey here that one of us can't take care of at home. Do you really want to confine him to four sterile walls, or would you rather make him happy?"

She was looking at the floor again. "I'd rather make him healthy Robert, but I don't have the power to do that...do I?"

It was an admission, and for Bobby Drake and Emma Frost it was a beginning. After a week of doctor's visits and chemo treatments and stony silence they were finally going to be able to talk like civil human beings, for the first time in almost four years. "Let's have a chat, Frosty." He nodded toward the office door, and she went. Sean went to follow. "Not you, Cassidy." The look between the two was cold, colder than even the Iceman thought he was capable of. "Not ever you." With that Robert Drake stepped out the door and closed it, leaving himself and his ex-wife properly secluded in the hallway. "Why do you want to leave him here, Em?"

Simple questions weren't supposed to cause tears, but somehow this one did. "I'm scared, Bobby, alright?" Emma screamed. She sunk to the floor, knees to her chest, back pressed against the wall behind her. She wasn't looking at him. "What if something happens in the middle of the night, what if he needs a doctor and I can't get him to one in time? Bobby, what if..." She looked right at him, and he read the last words in her eyes 'what if he dies in my arms because I can't save him, what if I lose my baby?'

"Don't even think it, Emma." Her look was pleading. "Don't!" He sighed and sat too, somehow it was more comfortable this way. "There's a way around this you know, I could take him with me." The look in her eyes, the set of her jaw said 'no' but she was going to hear him out. "Hank is there, and he's a doctor. Granted a geneticist but he does know more about medicine than anyone else I know. Cecelia's always on call too, so she'd be there in a heartbeat if there was an emergency. He'd get to see his whole family too, I'm sure he misses them. Remy was just saying the other day how Celeste was hoping..."

"Okay." Emma mumbled, cutting him off. "I get it. Congratulations, Drake, it's a good idea for once. You only forgot one little detail."

"What's that?"

"His mother. What am I supposed to do, sit on my thumbs and wait for daily updates?"

Bobby shrugged. "You could come too. Xavier wouldn't mind, hell he'd probably be thrilled to have you back in the house."

Emma laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh to Bobby's ears. "If I come, my husband comes too."

"Kinda figured that." Bobby mumbled.

"Think you can stand Sean and I, together in your house for an undefined period of time?"

"Think you can stand me and Kristen together in my house for an undefined period of time?"

For once a smile, albeit small, graced Emma's lips. "Touche." She rose from the floor and reached once more for the handle to the office door. "Oh, and Robert, it's Kristen and I, not me and Kristen."

Bobby smirked at her back. "That's my Queen Frosty."

"Dat ain't a hand, Mikey." Remy laughed from where he sat on the end of Michael's bed. "How many times I done tol' you boy, a t'ree, four, five, six ain' no straight."

"Why not?" Michael shouted crossly. "It's all in a row."

"Y'need five cards to make a hand, Mikey." Remy laughed, holding up a hand with all his fingers splayed. "Count 'em, one, two, t'ree, four, five."

"Texas Hold 'Em sucks." Michael declared, tossing his lousy hand back at his uncle, who miraculously held yet another four of a kind.

"Aw, come on now Mikey. Y'didn' actually t'ink Uncle Remy'd let you win did you?" Gambit laughed, retrieving the cards and shuffling the deck.

"Yah, I know." Michael mumbled, then suddenly his eyes lit up and he sat back up straight. "Uncle Remy, teach me how to cheat."

It caught him by such surprise that Remy just started laughing. "What you talkin' bout cheatin'?"

"Come on, Uncle Remy, I know you cheat." He stated, pointing at the cards in the Cajun's hands. "Nobody gets four of a kind three times in a row."

"How you know I ain' jus' lucky?" Remy asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Cuz, Celeste showed me where you hide all the marked decks."

That remark caught Gambit totally by surprise. "Dat little sneak! Who else she show? I gon' paddle her butt blue when I get my hands on her."

"Like father, like daughter, huh Remy?" Bobby's voice laughed from the door to Michael's room. "Don't act so surprised anyway, Logan figured out your marking system a good two years ago."

"I t'ought he was winnin' too much." Remy laughed.

"We all packed up and ready to go in here?" Bobby asked, grabbing one of Michael's bags and leaving the other for Gambit to snag on his way out.

"Yeah," Michael started to slide out of the bed, then stopped halfway. "Dad?" Bobby turned back. "Do I REALLY have to go out in a wheelchair?"

"Michael..." Bobby sighed, coming back into the room.

"But I can walk! I don't feel sick anymore, I don't want..."

Bobby squatted down in front of Michael. "What don't you want, Mikey?"

"I don't want to look like one of them." He looked down at the floor. "I don't want to look like a sick kid."

Bobby mentally steeled himself for yet another 'Michael you are a sick kid' talk when once again Remy saved his ass the trouble. "Uncle Remy got an idea. Y'momma said she don' want y'walkin, right?" Both Michael and Bobby nodded, Bobby much more vigorously than Michael. "So how bout y'Daddy take de bags, an' Uncle Remy carries y'down piggy back? T'ink y'can hold on dat long?"

"Remy," Bobby started. "Emma's real big on following the letter AND the spirit of the law. I don't think this is..."

"Y'know, Mikey." Remy stated, completely ignoring Bobby and his uncertain rant. "Time was 'fore you were born dat y'daddy here was actually fun."

Michael laughed. "Really?"

Remy cocked his head to the side for a second as if considering while Michael climbed on his back. "Non, not really."

It had been one long week, but he was finally coming home. Rogue turned to look at her daughter as she hung up the phone. "Daddy's comin' home today, baby." Rogue smiled, hoping that this news might make Celeste say something to her. No response, one whole week and her nine-year old daughter had not said a single word to her. "Michael's comin' home with him an' Uncle Bobby." Still no response, not even the acknowledgement of eye contact. Rogue never in her wildest dreams would have thought a nine-year old capable of keeping this going for so long. It was starting to worry her. "Celeste, darlin', say somethin'!" But instead the girl just hopped off the counter and shut herself in her room. "Well looks like it's jus' you an' me, sugah." Rogue sighed, looking over at her two-year old.

"Eggs yummy, Mama!" Laurel replied. Rogue laughed, on the bright side of things her youngest had stopped throwing the food put in front of her and started eating it just to 'make Mama not sad'. How pathetic was it when a two-year old started to feel sorry for you, Rogue wondered. Luckily a knock on the door broke her concentration before she could fully contemplate the answer. "Door Mama!" Laurel shouted happily, mashing her fork into her scrambled eggs and ketchup.

"Ah heard it, sweetie." Rogue said, moving to answer it before the person knocked again and her floor suffered more ketchup abuse because of it. Unsurprisingly, it was Kristen. "Heard from Bobby, huh?" Rogue asked, heading back to the kitchen knowing Kristen would naturally follow.

"I take it Remy called too." Kristen stated, pulling up a stool for herself across from Laurel's booster chair. "Hey kiddo, how's breakfast?"

"Eggs yummy. Wansum?" Laurel asked holding her fork out to Kristen, who looked back blankly.

Luckily Rogue seemed to understand and saved Kristen the embarrassment of having to ask Laurel to repeat. At two her words could still be tough to understand half the time. "No sweetie, I don' think Aunt Kristen wants any o' yoah breakfast, but that was some good sharin' though."

"Kay." Laurel laughed, and returned to mashing her fork into the now mostly orange filled plate and shoving whatever stuck into her mouth.

"We're learnin' forks, gets pretty messy." Rogue whispered, sitting next to Kristen and putting a napkin over her lap.

"I see," Kristen laughed, though she had to admit, Laurel's method seemed to be working. "Where's Celeste?"

Rogue sighed, squeezing more ketchup on Laurel's plate as she did. "In her room again, she still hasn't said anythin' to me since last Friday."

"But it's been a week." Kristen gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

"Ah know. Ah try t'talk t'her, but she jus' ignores me an' avoids me. Ah'm really startin' t'worry." She turned to look at Kristen. "Lestey's always been kinda sensitive, n' fo' her at least this ain' normal. She jus' ain' th'type t'bottle up on yah. Ah haven' said anythin' t'Remy, but Ah jus' don' know what t'do."

"Do you think..." Kristen trailed off, looking at Celeste's door. "Do you think maybe she'd talk to me?"

"Oh, Ah don' know, sugah." Rogue said warily. "Not that Ah got anythin' against ya, but Lestey ain' always been yoah biggest fan." Kristen looked away from the door and shrugged. "Ah mean, if you wanna try, by all means be mah guest." Rogue laughed a little, looking back at Celeste's bedroom door. "Gawd knows, even if she yells at ya, it's still more than Ah've gotten outta her in a week." Rogue put a supporting hand on Kristen's forearm "Jus' don' feel bad if y'don't get an answer."

Kristen smiled at her and stood from the stool, walking down the short hallway to the door that proudly declared in wooden letters painted purple and green: Celeste's Room. She took a deep breath. "Celeste?" No answer. "Celeste, it's Kristen. Can I come in and talk to you?" Silence. Kristen sighed and turned back toward the kitchen shrugging. Then she heard a sound behind her, Celeste's door was open.

Kristen closed the door silently behind her. There was Celeste sitting indian style in the middle of her bed looking out the window. "Is Michael gonna die?" The words were so unexpected that Kristen almost didn't hear them to answer.

"We all die someday, Celeste." She said finally, sitting at the end of the bed as far from Celeste as possible, leaving the girl a comfort zone.

"Kristen, what happens when you die?"

This one sure doesn't pull the punches Kristen thought while she came up with an answer. "Well, I guess that depends on who you ask." She answered honestly.

Celeste finally turned to face her. "I'm asking you."

The stare was making Kristen uncomfortable, and the answer even more so. How would Rogue and Remy react if they learned Kristen was teaching their daughter her own religious beliefs? Though the longer she could keep Celeste talking, she reasoned, the better chance she had of getting her to open up. "My beliefs," Kristen cleared her throat before clarifying. "In my religion, when a person dies they are judged on their karma..."

"What's karma?" Celeste interrupted.

"Karma is the good and bad things a person does."

"Oh."

"If a person has good karma," Kristen continued, "then they come back to life as a new and better creature. If they have bad karma they come back to life as a lower and not so good creature."

"What kind of creature?" Celeste asked curiously.

"Well, if you're really good you come back as a cow." Kristen stated.

For a second Celeste gave no reaction, then she started to laugh. "You have a funny religion Kristen. Cows aren't better than people!"

"Oh, I don't know." Kristen laughed too. "Cows aren't so bad, they certainly don't cheat at poker."

"Hey," Celeste giggled. "My Daddy cheats at poker!"

"Then we don't have to worry about him becoming a cow, do we?" Kristen laughed, and Celeste laughed even harder. Then just as suddenly as the laughter started it stopped and Celeste looked like she was about to cry.

"Kristen, do you think in your religion, Michael would be a cow?"

"Oh, honey." Kristen spread her arms and Celeste dove for the comfort. "I'm sure if anything happened Michael would be the most beautiful cow in the whole entire world. But I don't think we have to worry about that yet, not for a long time."

"Kristen?" Celeste asked quietly from the shelter of her arms.

"Uh-huh?"

"I won't tell Michael you think he'd be a pretty cow, it would make him angry."

Kristen laughed, a deep hearty laugh that she hadn't had in a week at least. "Thank you, honey. It'll be our little secret."