Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

2. Under Siege

It was a dark night, no moon and no stars. Isabel was jogging down a winding road in a reddish desert. She had no idea how long she'd been running, but one thing was certain: she couldn't stop. Not before she could get somewhere safe. If only she had a car... Panting, she stopped a moment to catch her breath and glance about her. Behind her, almost at the line of horizon, she could see a car. The windshield shone brightly, reflecting the sun that had long set. They were onto her. Fear sipping into her every pore, she lunged into a sprint, eyes trained on the pitch black horizon. If only she could get to...

"Pappa!"

Isabel was up and out of bed before full consciousness could shake off the frenzy of the desert hunt.

"Pappa, pwease!"

The little girl was speaking in her sleep, Isabel realised as she knelt by her bed, stroking the girl's hair comfortingly as her own breath still caused her chest to heave sharply. Breathe it out, she instructed herself, breathe all those fears out. Scents can influence the dreams of a person with heightened-senses and Lilia... Think happy thoughts.

"Pappa..."

Isabel started singing a lullaby-like song, tender and comforting. Bit by bit, the child whimpered back to a calmer sleep.

They worried her sick, Lilia's bad dreams. The first time, two nights before, Isabel had woken her up and she'd sobbed for Pappa, asking why he didn't want to come, why he'd gone away. Isabel had calmed her down, explained Pappa was hunting big, bad men. He was working hard to keep them safe away from terribly mean men. Lilia had calmed down but... every now and then, the same question came forth: why didn't Pappa want to come back? Explaining he was doing spy work so he couldn't phone barely helped. Isabel could see on Lilia's face she wasn't convinced and, to make it worse, the girl had started sulking. Just like her Pappa. She didn't want Isabel to play with her puppy, Wolfy; she didn't want Isabel to help her get dressed; she didn't want... Oh, she knew it was all part of growing up, but that constant frown on her baby girl's face was daggers to her heart.

It made her nervous over how she would react to the news of the sibling who'd be born in little over five months. Of course there was plenty of time for her to warm up to the idea of sharing Pappa and Mamma with a new baby but... she couldn't help feeling fidgety. Was that why she hadn't talked to Hank yet? She had sworn to herself she would, immediatelly after the second girls' night out, since she wanted to tell the women first. But Jubilee had had to cancel it because she had gone away on an FBI mission so, naturally, she'd postponed it to the next weekend, even if she knew she shouldn't delay talking to the doctor.

"Pappa..."

No. This couldn't go on. Isabel had no idea how the child had gotten it into her head her Pappa wanted to be away, but it had to be fixed and the sooner the better. And that really was something that admitted no delay.

Nothing like starting a morning with dreadful paperwork. Quite frankly, Emma Frost could not comprehend why Scott insisted in not hiring a secretary. It was maddening, having to go through this every single day! Of course Scott was not the one doing it. Maybe she should go on a month long holiday and let him drown in this little hell. Maybe then he'd come around.

Glancing away from the daily correspondence, she looked at the most recent electricity bill. No. If she went away for a month, the men would simply arrange to have every bill paid automatically and then proceed to forget about it, splurging as if there was no tomorrow. And if neither Bobby nor Logan spent much in the way of air conditioning, they both had a nasty habit of forgetting to switch off the lights. Bobby switched them all as he walked through the house but never switched them off, while Logan acted as if he had no idea light switches existed. Granted that meant he wasn't going about lighting the mansion into a Christmas tree, but it did mean he never switched off any unnecessary lights he came across. As for Hank and Kitty, their computers and random gadgets alone took up half the electricity the Institute used. If Emma didn't go around reminding them to...

"Woofy!" Emma groaned at the shrill voice. "Com'e'e, WOOFY! Don't you wun f'om me, you hea'?!"

It wasn't that she didn't like children, because she didn't, it was more that... Creed's little devil was a screeching, electrified, rude little creature and Creed was fully aware of it or he wouldn't have nicknamed her devil, the little being an understatement. The child had become completely unmanageable over the past week, ever since Creed had resumed going out in missions. Even her mother didn't seem to have control over her anymore.

She was certain Zelig had never been such a rebellious, annoying little thing. Although, if she were to be fair, Zelig had never lived in the mansion for an entire month. Then again, Zelig had a quiet character, almost sweet, and didn't blurt out the first thing that popped into his uneducated little head. At least he hadn't in the last two years. The girl, on the other hand, took after her darling father: stubborn, bossy and shooting out the most barbaric comments at the most outrageous occasions. Things either happened the way she wanted or off she was running her mouth and complaining to Pappa.

At least the man had good parenting skills. She had had to see it to believe it, but it was true. A psychopath he may be to the entire world, but cue in his little darling, and he turned into a patient, understanding man ready to instill notions of fair-play, politeness and social behaviour into his impish offspring. He had even willingly upturned his lifestyle, pretending to be dead, in order to focus on rearing the child in a safe environment.

It sparked her mind with possibilities. Not that Scott was interested in hearing any of it. They were all so set in that definition they had of Creed, that they were effectively blinded to the reality. He was a dangerous ass and a deadly foe, she was not about to argue with it. But could anyone say Logan was less of a dangerous ass? No. Or could anyone say that Magneto was less of a deadly foe? And yet they'd been allies Emma couldn't count how many times and they had even trusted Magneto. Besides that, there was X-23. Emma had been so sure the crazy little weapon was a danger ready to kill her every ally the moment she lost control. In the end, though, she'd been proved wrong. Laura had stepped beyond her limits and, if they asked Emma, had managed to acquire better self control than even Logan could ever dream of. So why not Creed?

She blamed it on the fact the X-Men had mostly been heroes from day one. She had been on the other side, though. She knew things weren't that black and white. Not that she wanted them to trust Creed, not just yet. But if the man could pull a Dr Hyde and Mr Jekyll because of his daughter, then maybe, just maybe, he could be twitched into something less crass and offensive. Something that eventually even learnt to enjoy working alongside the X-Men. Maybe, after a few years, he would even become a sort of Wolverine, brooding over his neurotic feral impulses while mostly acting sane. Or as sane as he could muster. Could anyone say two feral mutants with the training those two particular ones had wasn't every superteam's dream?

Again, Scott wouldn't even hear of it. Sabretooth was still an abusive prick, child aside. Period. If only Emma could convince him to give her plan a try. Not that she had one, not fully finished, anyway. It was very much still in the draft stage. But there was such potential!

With a sigh, she decided to return to the correspondence. Someone had to deal with it, after all. The knock on the door was a welcome distraction.

"Come in!"

She recognised Isabel's emotional pattern before she had opened the door. Here was a perfect pawn for her plan... if only Emma could manage to read her. The shy creature was a well of contradictions.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. Can we talk?"

Emma beamed at a chair.

"How can I be of assistance?"

There was no love lost between the two. Isabel was distrustful of telepaths to the verge of fear so Emma could barely feel anything besides defensive anxiety when they were face to face. To make it worse, Emma couldn't put up with the woman's cool reserve, constantly retreating into herself. It gave Emma the impression of a bomb waiting for the right moment to coldly set itself off.

"Lilia needs to speak wid her fader."

Another thing that annoyed Emma was the woman's obsession with the child. She was probably the one spoiling the brat with all her 'Lilia needs this, Lilia needs that'. Even Jenny wasn't... well, didn't seem to be as child-centric. It was so soccer-mom.

"I'm awfully sorry, but you know Creed is undercover. He really mustn't be contacted unless someone is about to die."

Isabel clenched her teeth and Emma toyed with the idea of doing something a bit more active rather than just forget to put up her mental defences against the emotions of nearby people. The best she'd been able to do was hide herself in the background. She had done it quite a few times so she'd very quickly realised that this fear Isabel had towards Creed wasn't as straight-forward as everyone seemed to think. Yes, she exuded fear whenever Creed was in the same room as she was or whenever his name came up in a conversation, but never as fast or as strong as when Logan or Jubilee were around. And what did those two have to do with anything? Excellent question. Besides that, there was plenty of embarrassment mixed up in her fear. Again, what did embarrassment have to do with fear? Another excellent question. Well, if she couldn't actually peek inside the woman's head...

"I don't mean to be unhelpful, Isabel. So why don't I explain to you just what this mission entails, huh?"

There, curiosity and anxiety. Let's add some fuel, shall we?

"You know Creed has been playing dead to avoid the usual complications that his job entails, right?" Isabel nodded. How interesting the way the woman's eyes were trained on Emma so unashamedly. She usually couldn't stand to hold anyone's gaze. "You know his alias of Sabretooth, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." Impatience, even if if her voice did not betray it.

"And you have no doubt heard about some of his associates," Ha, no she hadn't. Good, good. "Namely, his lover Mystique."

The woman blanched so hard, Emma thought for a minute she might faint. Instead, though, Emma stopped receiving emotional vibes. Shock. Time to push the envelope.

"You know she is a dangerous woman," she said in carefully clear and slow diction to make sure the foreigner didn't miss a single word. "And, even if she doesn't seem to have any particular bonds towards anyone, the fact is lovers tend to look down on the lawful women in their men's lives. Especially when they come into the picture later. I mean, Creed and Mystique go way, way back... Just think about their son, Graydon Creed! He was almost in his forties when he died and they had been on and off for at least a decade before that. You can't give your lover a son and then just pat him in the back and congratulate him for getting a prize wife and a precious little child. Not in their world, not when their mutant powers make them almost eternally young. Can you imagine how difficult it is for a mutant who lives far longer than normal to hook up with a woman that can keep young for just as long?"

Hm. Still no reaction besides the strengthening pallor. Maybe too much shock wasn't the right way to push the woman's emotional buttons after all. Or maybe Kitty's idea that Isabel was in love with the man was way off the mark and the woman simply wanted a father for her child. That could explain her obsession towards the girl, but it didn't explain the embarrassment-fear combination. Right. Time to go onto a new direction, then.

"So, as I was explaining, Mystique is in Europe and she seems to have some sort of involvement with the mutant slavery cell we've located there. Creed made contact two days ago and is now hanging out with her in order to get as much information from her as he possibly can."

Isabel nodded rigidly. No, Emma was not going to get anything useful from this interview. Isabel had become too numb with the news. What a pity! Well, might as well give it one last try.

"Oh, don't worry, Isabel. It'll all be fine! Creed is certainly dying to return to you."

Oh, touché! The woman had just breathed in sharply, even if she still wasn't giving off any emotion Emma could pick on. Could Kitty be right after all? The woman was actually in love with... The thought hit her then: Creed! She quickly went over the previous month. Emma had noticed the man avoided interacting with Isabel, but she had put it all down to Scott's warning he'd tolerate no sign of threat or abusive treatment towards her. Creed hadn't wanted to risk a lock down away from Lilia, so he'd blatantly ignored the woman. But could there be another reason? If he, by any chance, was harbouring feelings towards the woman... Oh, she should have paid more attention to his emotions. She should have! Even if Creed was more than used to hiding his...

"Thank you," Isabel said, cold as death, as she started getting up. "I don't interrupt you more."

Not yet, darling. The newest first stage of her plan needed prepping and there is no time like today.

"Oh, don't be silly! You're not interrupting at all. In fact, Scott and I have been talking and I see no reason why we should delay this any longer."

Suspicion rolled softly from her as she sat back again and Emma eagerly slid down that road.

"We know you and Creed are worried that sweet little Lilia has almost no friends and so we thought: why not enrol the little darling in Zelig's pre-school?" Again with the numb-show? Seriously? Emma was never going to get proper emotional readings off the woman if this kept up. "Naturally, they wouldn't be in the same year, but she'd have plenty of new little friends to socialise with."

Maybe Isabel was one of those controlling women who cannot stand to have their child escape their control. Only that was usually a sign of a dominating personality and, even if Emma was willing to bet Isabel wasn't as mindlessly submissive as everyone else was inclined to think, she was pretty certain Creed would not put up with a domineering woman. Hmm. She could feel that exerting control over the child was a way of keeping control over her life, which was actually in Creed's control. Maybe.

"I'm certain you'll love participating in the local parent association. From what Jenny says, they could use some more parents with some free time in their hands. You'd be a true godsend."

The way Isabel nodded and tried a forced smile, it was not a welcoming idea.

"Lilia is going to enter school next year," she said in a deceivingly soft voice.

"Of course. You and Creed have already talked it over and I certainly agree that not every child requires going through pre-school." The woman's nod was more assertive, definitive even. "But I'm certain he will agree it is in Lilia's best interest to socialise with children her age. Don't you think children need to socialise in order to grow up into happy, well-adjusted human beings?"

Not that much, if her face was any indication. Well, emotion or no emotion, one thing was certain: Isabel was either a domineering, obsessive soccer mom or was holding on to her daughter as a lifebuoy. Besides that, she was either in love with Creed or had been brainwashed into a dependent relationship. Once Creed arrived, Emma would get started on pushing the man's buttons to get through his defences and peek into his feelings towards the woman. She already knew more than enough how he felt towards the child, after all. Emma was sure to find possessiveness towards the woman, the big question was whether she might find some sort of finer feelings too. If she did... She'd have to play her hand very carefully if she was going to convince Scott to give in into her wishes.

Isabel could barely breathe when she got to her bedroom. It was like... like... she didn't know. Her head was swimming. Mystique... Graydon Creed... He was his son! She remembered, almost a life time ago, when she'd mentioned that name and he had... He was his son! His son! By Myst... Oh God! Could she be... Victor had called out for Rose when he had started recovering from his ner-death experience. Could they be one and the same? Because if they were... He'd been battling against death. And the first person – the only person! – he'd called for had been... his long time lover. The mother of his son. She was going to throw up. Oh God, oh God, oh God!

She reached for the toilet and rested her head against the wall. Breathe, breathe. It could be someone else. Rose could be another lover that had died or... Oh God. And she put a hand over her mouth to try and keep the tears at bay. Remember that he had not pretended to be dead for no one except for... Oh, quit wishing! Except for his daughter. Not for Isabel but for his daughter. Yes, she was his woman, true. But he didn't love her, had no intention to... Everything he did was for his daughter. He could very well be in love with this Rose, or Mystique... even with both, if they weren't the same woman. He could be in love with them but, since he couldn't have them, he had settled for the second or third or one hundredth best option after them. And Isabel knew she had no right to...

With a roar, she punched the wall.

"Stop thinking about him as your man," she told herself in Portuguese, tears streaming down her face. "You got to play at houses with him, make believe you were both... But you knew all along, you knew. You know. He is not yours."

Ah, but that killed her inside because he had been happily playing the part of being her man, love or no love, and she... God, it was almost killing her to face the truth now. He was not hers. Had never been, would never be. Kneeling in front of the toilet, sobs breaking freely, she pulled her hair back. It made no difference. In her heart, he was her man. Damn reason and reality, her heart would not feel differently.

Isabel sniffed, trying to calm down. She had to pull herself together. Couldn't let anyone even as much as dream... Breathe out, breathe in. God, she still felt nauseated. Maybe she should just put her fingers down her throat and ease the stomach from breakfast. Yes, it was probably better.

After flushing and brushing her teeth, Isabel washed her face and looked herself on the mirror. Her stomach was still not quite right, but it did feel better. Right. Stop thinking about him and... God. She had wanted to give him a son because she knew men always feel particular about them. The one who'll carry his name into the future. She had wanted it so badly! And where she had failed, his lover (and she couldn't help feeling the nauseating wave of fury and anguish roll over her once more), that worthless mutant who didn't grow old... (why was she getting herself worked up all over again?) she had given him the son he wanted. The son every man wants.

God, stop it! Get over it. There are far more pressing matters at hand. Like school. Victor had agreed that, since Lilia's birthday was in December, it was best to delay her entry into school one year. Give her longer to run about before learning to sit still for a whole day. And they had both agreed she would not go into preschool. She had enough friends in Creston that she could still socialise. Of course things were different here but... and Isabel shook her head. If Lilia went to preschool in New York, she would definitely end up going to school there too. And once that started there was no going back. No. Lilia would not go to any preschool. Victor had one whole year to fix the slave thing with the X-Men because Lilia was not going to school in New York. She wanted her baby girl growing up in a small town, much like Isabel had. To have the chance of walking or cycling to school with her friends and colleagues. Carefree, autonomous, happy.

And if Emma Frost thought she could talk Victor into enrolling the child, she was very much wrong because Isabel would put her and everyone else in their places and to hell if Victor got embarrassed over her assertiveness. Which was another stupidity: he adored her assertiveness back in Canada, he always said. So how come he had asked her to be as quiet as scaredy mouse down here, huh? Why? So they could all carry on thinking he beat her every other day and she was scared of him? God, give her strength!

She stared at herself on that mirror long and hard.

Fine. He was not hers, never had been. But the girl was. She was hers. And there was no one going to take her baby girl away from her influence. She didn't mind if Lilia was jealously attached to Victor; he was her Pappa. But she was her Mamma and no one, but no one, was going to start making decisions that belonged to her and her alone. Not even Victor! Isabel knew that a school in a small town was far better to the outdoor loving child than any big city school. She knew the thrill of cycling with a bunch of friends through empty roads knowing that no big unknown danger lurked ahead. In a big city there was nothing but neurosis yelling in horror at the prospect of allowing a ten year old to walk to school on her own for five or ten minutes. She had met the kids of such parents when she had gone to university. Twenty-year-old girls and boys who needed their mummies and daddies to phone the university to check on deadlines and fill in forms while going ridiculously crazy once booze rolled in on Friday parties, going over every common sense limit because they had no idea where such limits were. Not her daughter. She'd rather Lilia tested all the limits in a small town where everyone knew her and, if need be, could give a helping hand pointing out those limits. Or pulling her up when she tripped on them. Safely.

Isabel opened the tap and washed her face once more. She was still torn inside over Victor but she also felt better thinking about her baby girl. They hadn't been able to take her away from her Pappa and, likewise, they wouldn't be able to take her away from her Mamma.

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.

Hi, Legna! It's so great to hear from you again! And yes, superheroes do need therapy, especially the ones who *think* they're doing just fine.