Note: Special thanks
to Ed <Mr. R> (and you know who you are you wacky guy) for giving me the
identity of the criminal. For some reason, this person completely slipped my
mind as a suspect, and ya reminded me of them. So thanks!
JERRI
PART 2
Rogue hesitantly opened the
door and stuck her head in. The bedroom was dark save for a slight opening in
the drapes. She could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing and focussed her
eyes in that direction.
Remy was asleep in his bed,
the small form of Jerri lying on his chest; her head nestled just under his
chin. Her father had an arm protectively draped over her.
Rogue was about to retract
herself from the doorway when Jerri raised her head and smiled at her. She
opened her mouth to speak but then remembered her father was still sleeping.
She slightly tickled the area under Remy’s chin and his protective arm moved up
to shoo away whatever the disturbance was. She then slipped out of the bed
unnoticed.
‘Oh, she’s already a
real pro at this.’
Rogue thought amusingly. ‘Knows the right buttons.’
The young girl moved
quickly but with little sound. She slipped out into the hallway.
"Ah’m sorry. Ah didn’t
mean t’wake ya, Sugah."
"I wasn’t sleeping.
Just thinking."
"‘Bout what?"
"Stuff."
"Important
stuff."
"Nope, just
stuff."
"Oh."
There was a low grumbling noise coming from the direction of Jerri’s stomach.
"…Uh, you wanna help
me with breakfast, Jerri? I’m makin’ pancakes…"
Jerri’s eyes grew wide.
"Suuure! I looove pancakes!"
"Well, alright
then!" She took the small girls and hand and led her down the hallway.
"Why do you wear
gloves so early ma’am? Are your hands cold?"
"Call me Rogue, Sugah.
…Did—didn’t—did your daddy ever say anythin’ ‘bout me? -A –about my powers, ah,
mean."
"Uh… no. I don’t think
so. But I think he said your name once. It sounds fam-i- famil—I think I heard
it before."
"Familiar,
Sugah."
"Fam—il—i ar."
She nodded in a ‘got it’ manner.
They reached the kitchen
and Rogue tied a large apron on the girl, folding it so it would fit over her
nightshirt. Rogue herself was only in a pale green bathrobe and matching fuzzy
slippers.
She dropped a second apron
over her head, then pulled a bag of flour out from the cupboard.
"Where’s the
mix?" Jerri asked climbing onto a stool on the opposite side of the island
counter.
"Ha! Ya insult me. Ah
don’t use mix! My ‘cakes are from scratch!"
"Oh. Are they
good?"
"Ask me again when the
people in this house come trippin’ over themselves t’get one."
Jerri grinned and Rogue
handed her a bowl and the two set to work.
* * * * *
Something was missing.
Remy sat straight up in
bed. His eyes quickly scanned the room; his mind still slightly fogged with
sleep. It had been a very long day in the first place and he had been up even
later talking with Ororo and the others.
‘Jerri!’ he thought realizing what was
missing. ‘Where is she?’
He hopped out of bed and
ran to check the washroom. She wasn’t in there.
‘Kay… calm down, boy.
T’ink logic’lly ‘bout dis.’
He went over to the window.
It was still secure. He could see Storm off in the distant sky taking her
morning ‘cloud walk’ with Ame.
He looked at his watch. It
was almost eight.
‘Maybe she got hungry.’ He thought.
He headed for the kitchen.
* * * * *
"Okay, okay! But only
in your own… and if ya promise ta eat all of it."
"I promise! I’ll eat
it all!"
"Petite?"
"Bonjour, Pere!"
"Don’t never do dat
t’me again. Ya near scare d’life outta me! Why you take off like dat? What you
doin’ down here? …An’ why you all covered in flour?"
"We’re making
pannnncakessss."
"Pancakes?"
"Uh-huh."
"Den what wit all
d’chocolate chips?"
"Don’t look at me,
Remy. She’s your daughter." Rogue held up her hands defensively.
"Alla your teeth gonna
fall out, Petite."
"They’re gonna fall
out anyway… So I can get my big teeth."
"Ha! She’s got ya
there, Sugah!"
"She ain’t puttin’ dem
in all d’cakes…?"
"No, just her
own."
"Better make an extra
den. Hank might want a taste."
"Hank?"
"D’big blue doctor I
tol’ you ‘bout. He was workin’ in his lab when we got here last night."
Remy sat at the table and
rested his chin in his hand. He closed his eyes.
"Can I see the rest of
the house after breakfast, Pere?"
"Oui."
"Now where is
that…" Rogue had stuck her head in large refrigerator.
Jerri hopped down from her
perch and climbed up onto Gambit’s lap, getting flour all over his sweatpants
and T-shirt. She whispered near his ear.
"Elle est tres belle
papa. Est-ce qu’elle est ton petite amie?" (Fr.: She’s very pretty,
daddy. Is she your girlfriend?)
He opened his eyes.
"Quoi?!" (Fr.: What?!)
"Est-ce
qu’elle--"
"Heard you d’first
time, Petite."
"Well…"
"…No."
"Why not? Elle est
tres jollie!" (Fr.: She’s very nice.)
"Go make your
pancakes." He lightly squeezed her nose. She giggled and went back to her
stool.
"Whatcha lookin’ at,
Rogue?" The young woman, while wiping her hands in a dishtowel, was
staring out the glass doors into the backyard.
"Hank. Where the
heck’s he bouncin’ to so darn fast?"
Remy joined her at the
door. He watched the team’s main doctor leaping massive strides across the
freshly dewed grass.
"He—he headin’ for
d’Boat House."
* * * * *
"He’s not a
mutant."
"What?"
"David Michael
Alexander Summers. 9 lbs 8 ounces. The pillar of good health – for someone 5
hrs old – and not a mutant. He is completely human. I cannot detect any
form of mutant gene."
"But I was picking up
his thoughts—even without trying. They were so strong."
"It is possible that
David has developed a connection with you, not unlike the one you have with Daddy
here."
"I see."
"Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I think I’m going to go and take a few dozen acetaminophen. And sleep for
the rest of the day."
"Oh, Hank, I’m so
sorry about that."
When the labor pains
started, Jean gave the mother of all mental wake-up calls to the Doctor. His
head had been buzzing ever since then, but he refused to take any sort of
medication for it while he was still on duty to his newest patient.
"Oh, don’t worry that
pretty red head of yours about it. I’ve gotten worse headaches listening to
Jubilee’s music."
He was lying. They both
knew it, but she let it go and kissed him on the cheek in gratitude. Then he
left.
"It’s okay,
Jean." Scott put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.
"He’s healthy, he’s strong. We should be thankful of that."
"I am. Of course I am…
I—I just--"
"Always assumed our
children would be mutants. You’re not alone. I mean, it’s a shock to me
too."
"Most parents are
terrified their children will be born mutants, but here we are, fretting
because we have a normal child."
"Well, look at it this
way, he won’t have to suffer the way we did—he won’t be called those
names."
"Out there,
Scott, maybe no. But in his own home, he’ll be what we are to the outside
world. In his own home, he’ll be different. An outsi--"
"Don’t even think it,
Jean. This is our family… David’s family. He may not have to go though
Danger Room scenarios and training sessions, but he’ll find his place."
Young David, in the
bassinet in front of them cooed.
"I believe my boy
agrees with me."
"Actually, husband mine,
he’s hungry. I’ll feed him, you go phone Nathan and tell him he has a new baby
brother."
"Yes, ma’am."
Cyclops saluted. He kissed his wife and his new son, then left to make the
phone call.
* * * * *
Two days later, Remy was
occupying himself with finishing Jerri’s room, trying to figure out who had
killed Myriam and spending time with his daughter. It was Rogue who first
noticed that Jerri had only five outfits with her. She offered to take the girl
shopping. Remy objected at first saying that he would take her later. Then
Rogue asked him exactly what he knew about buying little girl clothes, and he
was forced to admit- nothing. He had always left that part to Myriam. He wasn’t
even certain what size she wore. The fact that Rogue was near invulnerable,
could fly and was extremely strong and fast also helped her argument. She would
be an excellent bodyguard. Eventually, Remy grudgingly let them go. To say he
was overprotective of Jerri would have been an understatement, but the event
three days earlier, sent him into near overdrive.
But he trusted Rogue.
The trust had been lost
after the Antarctica incident. After he had returned to the team, it started to
grow again. While they were no longer romantically involved, they had started
off being civil to each other. They friendship was slow coming, but
eventually resurfaced.
And Jerri liked her—a lot.
Rogue would take care of
her. He was sure of that.
…But then why, four hours
after they’d left, had they not returned, or even called?
Both Betsy and the Professor
had attempted contact to no avail. Her communicator went unanswered, but the
tracer on it was still operating. Remy, Logan, Cecilia, Bobby and Psylocke
followed it to one of New York’s many back alleys.
Rogue was there, her hair
soaked with the blood that was slowly trickling out of her mouth and ears.
Cecilia quickly began tending to her. She was alive, but just barely. They
would need to get her back to the mansion as soon as possible, but Cecilia
wanted to try to stabilize some of her injuries first. Not an easy task when
you couldn’t touch the skin of your patient.
Jerri was no where in
sight. Logan had a faint trace of her scent, but it seemed to just disappear.
There were several other scents around, but they were unfamiliar to him and
also disappeared. Either they could fly, or they had some sort of transport
device.
Wolverine looked over at
Gambit. He was silently looking around the ally. His knuckles were white from
clenching them.
‘Cajun’s on the edge of
loosin’ it. But he’s doin’ a hell-of-a job coverin’ it up.’ It wouldn’t have been noticeable to
anyone else. Remy’s pulse was running like a train in Wolverine’s ears—his
blood pressure was rising. His breathing was low and quiet to the others, but
shaking erratically to Logan. He went over and grabbed the younger man’s arm.
"We’re gonna find her,
Remy. That’s a promise."
The fact that Logan had
called him ‘Remy’, not Cajun, not Gumbo or Gambit, calmed him some. It
meant the man was serious and would put all his energies into helping him.
"What’s that?"
Bobby had been helping
Cecilia stabilize Rogue before attempting to move her. He had moved Rogue’s
right hand, which was still stubbornly gripping a black marker. There were
shopping bags strewn about the ally. The one closest to her had an open package
of children’s markers spilling out of it. When he moved her arm, he saw a crude
picture that she had drawn on the pavement.
"It—it looks like a –
hat?" Betsy suggested.
"No." Bobby
replied. "It looks like a—a--"
Remy knitted his brow at
the drawing, then his entire spirit dropped.
"…It’s a bell."
To Be Continued…
Tee Hee! stormgates@hotmail.com