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.
5. Miscarriage
"PAPPAAAAA! I WANT MY PAPPAAAA!"
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Lilia screeched only the higher if anyone tried to reach for her.
"PAPPAAAAA!"
Kitty, having exhausted all her attempts to sooth the child, groaned and looked at the door, hoping to see Bobby enter with Isabel.
"I WANT MY PAPPAAAAA-AAAAAAAA!"
Massaging her forehead in annoyance, Frost once more tried to get some common sense into everyone else's heads.
"It wouldn't hurt the child in anyway. It would just shut her up!"
"You are not going inside her head and that's final!"
"Emma, Kitty's right. You can't…"
Not giving up, Emma tried to warm Scott to her idea.
"I'd just sooth her, Scott, make her fall asleep."
"Emma, I said no!"
"Oh, yes, of course! It isn't good to telepathically sooth a child, and I suppose it's any better to let her scream everyone's ears off until she sooths herself?"
"May I humbly suggest you make your exit and start working on our unwilling guest while the child calms down?"
Emma glared at McCoy, who was calmly watching the chaotic situation while covering his ears with two mugs, but before she could answer they could hear Bobby yell "HANK" at the top of his lungs.
"As if one screeching child wasn't enough," Emma grumbled.
"HANK!" Ice opened the kitchen door wide as Bobby slid in holding Isabel's body, bloodied jeans dripping onto the ice slide the mutant had formed ahead of him.
"Oh, my stars and garters…"
"Don't just stand there! She's bleeding all over me!"
"What happened?" Scott asked, going after Bobby and Hank while they raced for the infirmary.
The kitchen was momentarily silent. Both Kitty and Emma stared at the ice platform and the blood that had fallen over it, unsure of what had just happened. Then they glanced at one another and at the girl, still standing in the middle of the kitchen. Noticing their eyes, Lilia looked at each one of them, face wet with tears and eyes wide in confusion. She sobbed one deep breath, her chin twisting in a deep pout.
"PAPPAAAAA!"
"No no no, Lilia…"
The moment Kitty reached the child's side, though, she closed her eyes and collapsed onto her arms.
"Emma!"
"Oh, give me a break! She'll be asleep for the next seven or eight hours instead of crying over Pappa and Mamma. And seeing as one is off in Europe, and the other is bleeding away in the infirmary, just be glad I didn't knock her out for the next twenty-four hours."
Emma was annoyed when she reached the detention area. They were all bound to get Creed back in the Institute because of this; Scott was probably making the call right now. But it seemed to her that the priority was keeping him by Mystique's side, getting her trust (or as much trust as the woman was likely to award anyone) and her secrets. Of course Emma would love to witness Creed's reaction and gauge his feelings but, quite frankly, they all had to make some sacrifices in order to dismantle the slave cell, didn't they? Emma was willing to sacrifice her curiosity towards Creed's familial relationships, for example. Why shouldn't Creed sacrifice coming back to check in on Isabel and Lilia in order to obtain more information? After all, Isabel would hardly notice either way and the child... well, a little mental tweeking and she'd believe Pappa'd been there and gone. Unfortunately, Creed wouldn't be able to stay in Paris working Mystique even if he wanted to. Scott wanted him back, he'd come back. Isabel really should have timed the whole melodramatic scene for at least a week later.
Turning left, away from the large room that housed Creed's room-cell, she approached the interrogation room. It had no windows allowing people to look in, but there was a wide screen next to the door which had exactly the same effect, or better, because they could switch through several cameras to analyse different perspectives.
The short dark haired man was lying on a cot at the farthest end, apparently slumbering. Gerard Picard. She typed on a virtual key pad and part of the screen offered a short biography: French national, 28 years old, single, had been in the military and was now working for MTR Secure, a French security company.
The man stood up the moment Emma opened the door. Not that he could do anything: there was a glass-like wall separating him from the entrance. The alien material was hard enough to sustain several attaks from a strong human and it had a door fashioned into it towards the left. Emma had no idea of actually sitting at the interrogation table on the other side, though. There were a couple of chairs on this side and she sat on one, crossing her legs.
"So, Gerard Picard, shall we start our interview?"
The plan had been Emma's, having Creed go undercover as his own clone. Creed had refused at first, but she'd pointed out that, sooner or later, someone would recognise him. After all, while most people only knew his uniformed identity, long time enemies and allies knew his face. On the other hand, if he started dropping hints of the existence of a quiet, unassuming little clone... unless someone was after Sabretooth's genetic material, most people would just have no interest on him whatsoever.
"What is the name of your current employer?"
Kidnapping people had not been part of the plan. Emma could almost understand that Logan would follow Creed's suit, but Scott really should know better. Or was it really that preposterous to think that a clone of Sabretooth could simply be setting a watch on someone? Apparently it was, because his cover story had very naturally become that he was to take out a specific vic. She should have gone to Paris with them to instill some sense into those brawling brains.
"Je sais que vous parlais anglais, monsieur. Alors, parlais! Tout de suite."
She would have to go inside his head. If she had gone to France in the first place, she could have done the exact same thing without any need of kidnappings that could get unnecessary attention.
"Have it your way," she grumbled as the dark-eyed man remained immobile on the other side, teeth clenched in silent determination. "Lie down and relax."
That had been a mental order and despite the man's efforts, the body obeyed promptly. Emma knew he was trying to speak, now, to protest, but she had telepathically shut down his speech ability. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and plunged in. She purposefully picked a memory to land inside the man's head but ended up finding herself in a dark room. He had had training against telepaths. If the man had been relaxedly sleeping at his home, Emma would have easily overcome that training. Instead she was now going to have to work hard in order to rip little pieces of information. Perfect, just perfect.
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