!Warning!
I'm afraid I'll be undergoing a period that will make going online a bit tricky. I may have to spend a couple, if not actually a few, days in a row offline, and these offline periods may come and go without warning. This means I won't be able to maintain my update schedule. As such, I will go on a one month hiatus.
I'm sorry for kicking off 2018 with a hiatus, especially with stories running, but it can't be helped.
I wish you all a great 2018 and... see you all in a month.
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.
10. Breakfast
Lying in Isabel's bed, Creed stared at the ceiling above him. He hadn't slept a thing the whole night, going over the last weeks; trying to understand how everything had gone so wrong. And the weirdest thing was that Isabel's bed did have the lingering scent of fear. Not apprehension, but actual fear. It might not be very strong, but it was still unmistakenable. He couldn't understand what could have made her fearful but, whatever it had been, it was probably the reason why she hadn't confided in McCoy. Perhaps she'd overheard something or… he didn't know.
Lilia moaned and turned over in her sleep, elbowing his chest and kneeing his stomach, the foot nearly hitting him in the groin. Gently, Creed brought a hand to the child's head and played with her hair, whispering soothing words. He could feel her body relaxing again with an audible sigh, her skin warm and soft against his.
He wished he could do the same – relax and sleep as peacefully as his little devil. But how could he in that bed, surrounded with Isabel's scent? He breathed out a low growl, going over how pale she had been, drugged in the infirmary. He wondered if she was still sleeping, drugged out of her mind, or awake and aware of what had happened. Maybe in the throws of a nightmare without anyone to comfort her. His blood boiled in his veins, and yet there was nothing he could do but lie there, playing with his girl's hair and wishing he could be doing the same to his woman. He could almost imagine her waking up with a relieved smile at him, her eyes gazing lovingly into his, and then he'd ask her what was wrong and he'd fix it and everything would be fine again.
Outside, dawn was breaking. He'd have to get up soon and meet Summers. The mighty leader had been seriously annoyed over the ruckus the day before, had even threatened to lock him down in the cell if he didn't accept no one was to blame for the girl's misconceptions. Instead, though, he'd locked him (so to speak) in the Danger Room and set up a slasher routine for him to indulge his so-called aggressive impulses.
Creed groaned at the memory.
"Ya can't keep me away from her," he had growled.
"Don't be a moron, Creed! We're not keeping you from seeing Lilia; we're just making sure you kick off some of that edge before getting back to her. You almost went berserk back there in the office!"
And whose fault had that been?
"I'm talkin' 'bout Nesi," he had stupidly snapped. "Ya can't keep me from talkin' to her! She's mine!"
He had been so very careful not to let out the slightest hint of his feelings for the woman for so long, and then out everything came at the first opportunity.
"What?" Creed had just glared at the man and kept on gushing everything out.
"She's my woman, ya asshole. She belongs to me! And if ya think ya can stop me from talkin' t' her an' findin' out what the stupid dimwit was thinkin' ta keep her blasted pregnancy hidden from freekin' McCoy, ya better think again!"
"Nesi? That's Isabel's real name?"
That alone had sobered him away from any berserker rage. To think he'd slipped and mentioned the woman by her blasted nickname.
"Isabel," he'd corrected, ice running in his veins at the prospect of them figuring out that Nesi was short for Nesita which was short for Inês. They all spoke Spanish, to some degree, and would quickly connect Nesita and Inês. If that happened, he really would have hell in his hands. "Spanish nickname. José turns to Pepe, Francisco turns to Paco and Isabel goes something like Isabel, Isa, Isita, Nisita, Nesita."
He could still see Summers face, frowning, as if he wasn't following the freaking explanation.
"It's short fer Isabel in Spanish, asshole! It don't mean nuthin'!"
Next time, he would go through the one hour slashing routine to clear his head before opening his mouth. He sighed. Why did he have to be such a big mouthed dumbass when he was itching to rip heads?
On top of him, Lilia grumbled and once more showered Creed's torso with random punches, elbows and knees, reserving the kicking to his thighs. He sighed, while she rubbed her face against his chest and grumbled louder just before lifting her head.
"Mornin', Lil' Devil."
Mildly confused, she rubbed her eyes, resting her elbows hard on Creed's chest, and the man decided he'd had enough. He grabbed the girl under her arms and lifted her high up as he sat up. The morning light was strong on the other side of the curtains. When he sat her on his knees, Lilia was giggling and looking up at him with a blissful smile, asking for more. He lifted her up, actually tossing her high in the air, getting up before catching her in his arms, the bubbly laughter comforting him only slightly.
"OK, Lil' Devil, let's get ya dressed up. Go t'the toilet then wash up."
Creed looked around him, thinking of which clothes to put on the child that day, but his eyes ended up resting on Isabel's bed. A sudden pain wrenched through his insides and he wanted nothing but to go berserk and tear the whole place to pieces; instead, he punched the bed and buried his face on the pillow, drinking the woman's delicious scent. Damn, he'd missed it! Eyes closed, he fought the urge to go to the infirmary, killing everyone that got in his way. His claws unsheathed and ripped through the pillow but he held on tight to it.
"Pappa?" Creed held his breath and stood perfectly still as he willed the claws away. "You sti' sweepy?"
"Pappa!" She was giggling as she poked him, hoping for a game. Creed turned around with a roar and grabbed the child, who yelled, delighted, when she was thrown up so high she touched the ceiling. "Maish! Maish!"
Creed threw the girl a couple more times, more careful now, so she wouldn't hit the ceiling again. Then he held her tight and gave her two strong slaps on her behind. Maybe a bit too strong, he wondered, but Lilia was laughing and still asking for more in Portuguese. It was all part of the game anyway.
"Enough!" He placed her on the bed. "We gotta get ya down fer a proper breakfast. Ya washed up properly?"
Not that he needed asking; she might have cleaned her face and hands, but her neck was still wet, as well as the arms and most of the torso, and there was still some soap here and there. So he fetched a towel from the bathroom, noticing the stool in front of the basin and the wet floor. With a resigned sigh, he wiped the stool clean, pulled it to the side and dried the floor. Then he fetched a new towel for Lilia.
Scott Summers and Emma Frost were already in the kitchen when Lilia and Creed came in, the child holding her Pappa's hand as she hopped all the way to the table.
"Emma'll give Lilia her breakfast, Creed."
Lilia didn't seem to have noticed the couple as she jumped to a chair and stood up brightly until Creed told her to sit and she crouched obediently. Despite ignoring Summers's remark, he noticed the two recently washed up mugs on the sink and the fading aroma of fresh coffee, as he made sure Lilia was properly sat.
"Come on, Creed," Summers insisted, taking a few steps to the door and then stopping to glance at the blond. "Now."
Growling lightly, Creed glared at Emma and warned her to make sure Lilia had a glass full of milk and at least a couple of bread slices with jam, as well as an apple. Peeled. Twisting on the chair to watch her Pappa talk to the woman, Lilia's gaze sulkingly followed him until he disappeared into the corridor. Still sulking, she sat up and frowned attentively at the table, listening to both men's steps fading away; Summers' steps sounded annoyed, she could tell that much, but her father's sounded angry, and not the same way as when she did something bad. It was a different kind of anger. Emma put the glass of milk in front of her, startling her out of her reasoning. She pouted harder, but Emma didn't notice it as she had gone back to the counter and was preparing her bread. She followed the woman's movements. She didn't want a nanny; she wanted Pappa. If Pappa was with her, then he couldn't go away.
"Stop staring at me and start drinking, kid." Aggravated, Lilia turned to the table, searching for... something. Then, lightning struck. Thoughtfully, the girl put her hands around the lukewarm glass then fell back on the chair.
"The miwk's cowd."
"No, it isn't. Just drink it."
"It's cowd! You don't know hot to make my b'eakfast, on'y Pappa knows."
Mumbling a curse that didn't escape Lilia's ears, Emma dropped the bread on the table and put the glass in the microwave for a couple of seconds. Failing to hide a lopsided grin of half victory, the girl studied the bread. Once the glass of milk was again on the table, she claimed the slices were too thick and that only Pappa knew how to cut them just right.
"Just eat. Or your Pappa will be mad when he gets back."
Lilia glared openly at Emma, aggravated by the woman's threat.
"The bwead is too thick and the miwk is too hot. It has to be Pappa make my b'eakfast; he knows."
"Really? And how do you know the milk's too hot if you haven't even touched it yet?" Lilia's eyes darted at the woman, but she didn't seem the least worried. Instead, Emma stooped slightly and lowered her voice to a deadly serious command. "I know what kind of game you're playing, you little brat, and let me tell you it isn't going to work. Now eat."
Lilia glared at the glass, tears of frustration burning her eyes, and Emma straightened up. The woman's tone had reminded her of the same no-way-out tone Pappa sometimes used, but there was a big difference. Pappa was Pappa; the woman was just a "witch with a capital B", like Matt used to say. Anger boiling her into action, Lilia got a hold of the glass and threw the contents at Emma. Now she'd have to get Pappa!
The woman yelped in surprise when the milk hit her back and legs, and Lilia was already standing on the chair and yelling.
"The miwk's too hot! See? Too hot, too hot, too hot!"
"You..."
Lilia gloated that there was murder in the witch's eyes and that she wasn't the least afraid. She'd have to get Pappa. And if she didn't, then Lilia would get him to come herself.
Emma reached for her arm and she screeched at the top of her voice for Pappa. The woman hesitated, face still contorted in fury, and Lilia quickly threw a slice of bread at her – jam first. Take that! Unexpectedly, the witch grabbed her arm, strongly, threatening with an exemplary punishment, and Lilia got scared.
"PAPPAAA!" Unable to escape the iron grip, the girl dropped her weight, sitting on the table top and getting a hold of the second slice of bread which promptly found its way to the woman's chest. "PAPPAAAAAA!"
The woman had just got a hold of her other arm, although keeping away from Lilia's kicking feet, when Kitty came in. Too involved in the fight, the child only noticed the arrival when the witch let go of her arms and she found herself being held in a protective embrace before being returned to the chair.
"What the hell do you think you were doing, Frost? Have you completely lost your mind! It's OK, honey, calm down."
Lilia looked at the door, hoping to see Pappa come in, but he wasn't anywhere. She let Kitty embrace her again as she felt tears welling up. Behind her, Emma was cursing her and her father before walking out in a fury, but the victory of getting rid of the witch didn't earn her a single grin of satisfaction. The oly real victory would be for Pappa to come back to her.
"You're OK?" Kitty smiled gently and kissed her forehead, making the tears burn her eyes harder. "Don't worry; I'll take care of your breakfast for you."
Lilia didn't feel hungry anymore. Had Pappa gone away? Was that why he hadn't come? When Kitty placed a new glass of milk and two new slices of bread on the table and then crouched by her side, whispering that she knew Lilia wasn't hungry, but that she had to eat something so she could grow big and strong, the girl nodded. Mamma and Pappa always said the same thing, too.
"Pappa," she asked in a whisper.
"Pappa is talking to Scott, honey. He'll be back soon. But you have to eat first, ok?"
Did that mean he'd be back once she finished breakfast? She straightened up and took the glass in both hands to start drinking, but the smell stopped her. Still crouching by her side, Kitty rubbed her back gently and smiled an encouragement. Lilia took a shy sip and grimaced.
"It's bad."
Kitty frowned, still smiling.
"The milk's bad?"
She took the glass, smelt the milk thoughtfully and then tasted it.
"No, it isn't. It's perfectly alright."
Lilia shook her head.
"It tastes bad. Mamma's miwk doesn't taste bad."
"Ah!" Lilia watched Kitty go back to the fridge and scratch her head. "I'm sorry, but we've run out of the organic milk your Mamma buys... But this milk is good, too, Lilia. It just has a slightly different taste. Try to drink at least a little, OK?"
But Lilia didn't want to. It didn't smell right, it didn't taste right, and she wanted Pappa. She stuck her tongue out in a grimace and shook her head.
"It tastes bad. I can't dwink it."
Kitty sighed and sat next to the girl.
"Lilia, the milk does not taste bad, OK? It has a different taste, that's all. Now, what if I put a bit of chocolate in the milk, so it hides the taste, huh?"
Lilia shrugged. She just wanted Pappa. While Kitty fetched the chocolate milk powder, she grabbed a slice of bread and started eating it. Slowly. Kitty was still smiling as she poured the brown mix in the milk, a cloud of unbreathable brown dust hovering above the glass for a moment, and Lilia couldn't help shivering. She started chewing the bread even more slowly.
"There you go: you won't feel a trace of the taste of the milk now." Kitty sighed when Lilia avoided looking up either at her or the milk. "Honey, trust Kitty, OK? Take a sip and see if you can taste the milk."
Lilia held back a whimper. It still didn't smell right, for a whole different reason now, but it still didn't smell right. In fact, it smelled much worse than before. But she also didn't want Kitty to get mad at her. Everyone in the house was always mad. Even Mamma and Pappa. And now Kitty was going to get mad at her, specifically, and then Pappa too.
"Lilia." Kitty's voice was definitely not happy. At the moment, it was without patience, next it would be annoyed, and then angry. "Just take a sip and see if it doesn't taste like chocolate."
Feeling the tears well up again, Lilia looked up.
"Pwease don't be mad."
"Honey, Kitty's not mad. But you have to drink your milk. Just a little bit, come on."
With a resigned sigh, Lilia put her hands around the glass and pulled it closer. She couldn't smell the milk, Kitty was right about that. But it didn't smell of chocolate either. It smelled weird. She rubbed her nose energetically and stole a glance at Kitty. Then she took a deep breath. And let the air out. Slowly she took the glass to her mouth and sheepishly bit the edge, the smell making her nose twitch when the liquid touched her lip.
"Come on..." Kitty encouraged, impatient. Maybe almost annoyed.
Summoning all her courage, Lilia took a small sip and grimaced, thoroughly disgusted, backing away from the table and the glass.
"It tastes bad."
"Lilia, you are not going to skip breakfast again. You have to eat, honey!"
"But it tastes bad!"
"What tastes bad?" Lilia gazed at Pappa, relieved and joyful, until she noticed the anger shining in his eyes. Was it because of her? "Why ain't ya eaten nuthin' yet, Lilia?"
Chin trembling, she whined it tasted bad. Creed's eyes were practically darting daggers when he picked up the glass and took a sip. Almost immediately, he grimaced and spit what he had drunk into the sink, emptying the glass afterwards as Kitty looked at the man wide eyed, not understanding. Lilia smiled happily though. Pappa had come to her rescue, after all.
"This crap tastes like shi..." he stopped himself when his eyes found Lilia's and took a deep breath. "It don't taste right. She only has organic milk and what the hell made ya think addin' crappy would-be chocolate powder was a good idea?"
"Creed," when Hank talked, Lilia noticed that more people had come into the kitchen besides her father, including Summers and the witch. "It's important you keep in mind that Lilia's gustatory cells aren't nearly as refined as yours, and every child ought to be exposed to as many different foods as healthily possibly. You should..."
"Shut yer yap, McCoy! Isabel ain't got no heightened senses and she can different brands o' milk got different tastes. Just like she can smell if a food is salty or not, or if it got the right herbs or not. You think I should force the girl ta drink somethin' her own Mamma wouldn't? Quit bein' the self-righteous moron."
Kitty didn't look happy at the rebuke, and Lilia thought it should be the witch listening to it.
"Emma's bad, Pappa!" His eyes snapped at her angrily, and she added very quickly: "She twied to hu't me!"
Creed frowned, and Lilia bit her lower lip trying not to grin victoriously. Now the witch would get it! When he glanced over at the witch, she put her head down so the grin she couldn't stop wouldn't be seen.
"Is there a problem with the bread, Lilia?" The grin disappeared immediately and she looked up, shaking her head. "Then why ain't ya eaten it yet?"
She didn't need more prompts: twisting her body around, the girl picked up the nibbled slice and took a big bite out of it, before turning back to her Pappa, who was warning Summers he wanted to have a word with him and the witch. She grinned, happily. Pappa might be going away to chew the witch's head, but then he'd be back, and her breakfast would be over, and he wouldn't leave again.
I had great fun writing some of these scenes and I hope you enjoy it. I was a picky eater as a child and thought milk tasted and smelled bad, no matter the brand (though some were way worse than others) or what you added to it. The cloud of unbreathable chocolate powder… that was a particularly nightmarish sign back then. I still remember some of my strategies and ruses to escape having to drink all my milk, and how smart I thought myself for both thinking them up and going through with them. They didn't usually have the best outcomes, though.
And that's it for 2017. See you in February!
(At least I didn't leave you in a cliffhanger.)
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.