>From - Sun Feb 01 15:22:40 1998 Received: from slave1 for dblteam with Cubic Circle's cucipop (v1.13 1996/12/26) Sun Feb 1 15:13:24 1998 X-From_: CGALONIS@aol.com Sun Feb 1 10:52:12 1998 Return-Path: Received: from imo24.mail.aol.com (imo24.mx.aol.com [198.81.19.152]) by slave1.aa.net (8.8.8/8.8.5) with ESMTP id KAA29807 for ; Sun, 1 Feb 1998 10:52:10 -0800 From: CGALONIS@aol.com X-Intended-For: Received: from CGALONIS@aol.com by imo24.mx.aol.com (IMOv12/Dec1997) id SKVYa27669 for ; Sun, 1 Feb 1998 13:50:54 -0500 (EST) Message-ID: Date: Sun, 1 Feb 1998 13:50:54 EST To: dblteam@aa.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Subject: Father's Day for posting Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit X-Mailer: AOL 3.0 for Windows 95 sub 49 X-Mozilla-Status: 2001 Disclaimer: All characters in this story belong to Marvel. I am using them without permission and I am not making any money from this story. The premise of this story is based on the story Betrayal which belongs to Valerie Jones. Warning: If you haven't read Betrayal, this story contains spoilers! Father's Day by Carol Galonis Professor Charles Xavier stared pensively out the window of his study, dimly aware of the snippets of conversation and occasional laughter that drifted in from the dining room. Most of his X-Men still gathered there around the dinner table where they lingered over dessert. Normally Charles would have stayed and enjoyed the camaraderie among his students -- his family – but tonight he was too preoccupied to join them. His mind was on the one X-Man that he knew was not present. Remy LeBeau had left the mansion earlier that day and had not yet returned. It had been nearly a year since the turn of events that revealed that the young Cajun X-Man was in fact Charles' son. Charles shook his head slowly. What a summer that had been! Not just the revelation of who Remy was, but the things they had learned about how the X-Men had died. For Charles, the impact of the horrible memories he had seen was fading with time. His nightmares were infrequent now, and he had even gone to Muir Island to see Peter and help him come to terms with his part in the X-Men's betrayal. Charles sighed and pushed that thought away. It had been a struggle, to meet the man again, to not hate him for the things he had not yet, and if Charles had any say in the matter, never would, do. Still, for all the anguish of the past summer Charles couldn't help but be grateful. He had discovered a family he had never dreamed of having. And things had slowly gotten back to normal after the eventful summer. Perhaps even better than normal. Remy and Rogue were now officially engaged to be married. Bishop and Remy had developed a rather close friendship, though Bishop still did not respond well to Remy's teasing, and even Scott seemed to have gained a grudging respect for Remy that the Cajun surprisingly reciprocated. Charles' own relationship with his son gradually evolved to something more than professor and student but not quite father and son. Charles smiled ruefully as he thought their relationship was more like father and son-in-law. Remy had mostly dropped the formal address of "Professor" but had not yet adopted the more familiar "Father" or even "Charles". Charles still hoped for more, but right now their relationship was comfortable, and he welcomed it. Sometimes, things seemed so normal that it was easy to forget that his time with Remy was limited, and that time was rushing towards the day that the paradox would erupt. Then today, on Father's Day, Jean had surprised Scott in front of the entire team by announcing that she was eight weeks pregnant. It had been expected, of course. Remy's recovered memories had already revealed that Jean and Scott would have a daughter soon. Of course, they could have changed that portion of the future, but both seemed eager to meet the little girl they had seen in Remy's memories. Charles suspected that they wanted to give her a chance to live a different life from the one they had seen, as well. Remy had been among the well-wishers, kissing Jean on the cheek and clapping Scott on the back in congratulations. But his smile never quite reached his eyes. While everyone still clamored around the parents-to-be, Remy had slipped quietly from the room. Charles' heart ached for his son. He knew that to Remy, Jean's pregnancy was another reminder that events were spiraling beyond his control - and that his death rushed toward him at frightening speed. August 5, 2007. That was the date that the paradox would collapse and effectively erase Remy LeBeau. Charles had once assured Remy that they would find a way to avoid the paradox's collapse. Out of desperation, Remy had clung to that hope, but Charles knew that they were fooling themselves. No matter how he tried, he could not fathom a way to prevent it. Charles' contemplation was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He called out an invitation to enter and was greatly relieved to see the object of his musings poke his head in. "Y' busy?" Remy paused halfway into the room. "No, not at all. Please come in, Remy." Remy shut the door and joined Charles on his side of the desk, leaning casually back against the corner. Charles watched him in anticipation, but the Cajun merely fixed his gaze out the window and remained silent. Charles turned back to the window himself, content to wait until the younger man was ready to talk. They sat in companionable silence for a while before Charles gave in to the question that was nagging him. "Are you all right, Remy?" The young man seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. "Oui." He turned his attention to Charles. "Dere's somet'ing I wanted t' . . . share . . . wit' you." He paused with a faraway look in his eyes. "A memory . . ." Charles was startled. Remy rarely talked about the memories he recovered. He often wondered just how much his son recalled of his childhood before the tragic day it was turned upside down. Remy continued, "I was t'inking 'bout . . . Rachel an' dis memory came t' me. I t'ought y' might . . ." He trailed off with a shrug. "Please, I'd like that." Charles waited for his son to continue, but instead of speaking, Remy opened his mind in silent invitation. Charles was astonished. Despite his repeated attempts to encourage his son to refine his telepathic powers, Remy had locked his shields back in place last summer and refused to even discuss the matter. Charles hesitated to be sure he hadn't misunderstood, but the young man was watching him expectantly. He closed his eyes and, together with his son, stepped onto the astral plane. There was none of the hesitation or barriers that Charles had experienced on his last venture into Remy's mind. There was a moment of disorientation, then Charles and Remy emerged to find themselves in the back yard of the mansion, by the pool. The scene was similar to any number of occasions when the X-Men were able to take advantage of some time off and relax with a cookout. But Charles knew that this hadn't taken place yet -- at least for him. Charles looked around curiously. To his left, Hank manned his usual position over the grill while Bobby stood nearby with his arm around a young blonde woman whom Charles didn't recognize. Charles wondered idly who she might be but didn't dwell on it. He supposed he would find out in time. Further down, past the picnic tables, Betsy, Ororo and Rogue lounged together in the sun in animated conversation. Beyond them, out of his line of sight, he could hear the sounds of a basketball game being played. He strained to make out the voices coming from the court, but they were too muffled. To his right, he saw himself. The mind-Charles sat in his hoverchair under the shade of a picnic table umbrella while Lilandra was seated next to him, looking very regal despite her casual swim attire. Across the table, Jean was happily cooing to a baby in her lap that appeared to be about four or five months old. Charles knew from his previous encounter in Remy's mind that the baby was Scott and Jean's son, Brian. A childish squeal followed by a loud splash drew Charles' attention to the pool. At the center of the pool, he found Scott and a little red- headed, pigtailed girl of about eight, whom Charles recognized as Rachel. Rachel rode piggy back with her arms wound tightly around her father's neck. They faced the side of the pool and the five-year-old boy who fidgeted excitedly at the edge. Charles couldn't help but smile as recognized his son. As he watched, the five-year-old shifted several times trying to find the perfect diving position. "Hold your arms out in front of you and bend your knees a little." The mind-Charles called out the advice from the table where the three watched in amusement. Remy swung his arms back and forth a few times then settled with them in front. "Move Scott!" The boy waved him out of his way. Scott laughed but moved himself and Rachel back a few paces. "Lean forward a little more and look at the water not at me." Remy shifted position a few more times. "Come on, midget. Just dive already." Rachel made a face at Remy. That was the final straw. Remy took a deep breath, swung his arms forward once more and leaped off the pool's edge to perform a perfect belly flop. When he came up for air, Remy turned to his audience and asked, "How was that?" "You're getting there. Keep practicing," the mind-Charles encouraged. The real Charles grinned at his adult son. "I guess grace and coordination come later, hmm?" "Thank God." Charles chuckled at the mixture of amusement and embarrassment on his face. The five-year-old Remy swam back to the edge of the pool and climbed out. Dripping, he paused only to push the hair out of his face before stepping up to the edge of the pool once more. "This time, keep your head down," Scott told him. Remy obeyed, staring intently at the sunlight sparking on the water. "Like this?" "Yes, just like that." Remy fidgeted a moment on the lip of the pool, curling his toes around the edge of the bricks. But then he finally dove forward into the water. It wasn't exactly clean, but Charles would have to say it was a passable dive. Remy came up out of the water to the sound of applause from his parents and Scott. Over her father's shoulder, Rachel made faces at Remy, but he was too happy to retaliate. He swam over to Scott, who pulled him up onto his hip. Scott turned as Hank announced that the food was ready. With both kids riding precariously on his back, he started making his way toward the side of the pool closest to the grill. The adult Remy's chuckle was the first indication Charles had that the kids were plotting something. Then, the child Remy dropped straight off of Scott's back into the water. He went to the bottom and grabbed both of Scott's ankles at the same time as Rachel wrapped her arms more tightly around her father's neck and threw her weight to the side. Suddenly unbalanced, Scott fell into the water with a splash. There was a shriek of laughter from the three women sunning by the pool. "Jean, look!" Rogue shouted, waving at the pool and the spluttering Scott. "The kids got 'im!" Jean looked up from the baby and began to laugh. The mind-Charles and Lilandra joined her. "Those two." She shook her head. Charles glanced questioningly at Remy and received one of his more infamous smiles. "Scott never got his hair wet in de pool. It was sorta like a family challenge." And Remy was never one to let a challenge go unanswered. Charles smiled. It was nice to know that some of the man he was now had come from those early years. As everyone made their way over to the picnic table and grill, Charles saw that the basketball game had broken up and the remaining X-Men joined the group for dinner. Logan, Warren, Sam and . . . Charles was momentarily startled to see Gambit. Of course he would be there as well. This Gambit had survived the massacre and become the Witness. Charles wondered how Remy dealt with his childhood memories of himself as an adult. It was mind-boggling. He glanced at Remy standing beside him and saw that the Cajun was also watching the newest group. "That must be hard for you -- to remember things about yourself that you haven't done yet," Charles remarked. Remy shrugged. "Not much diff'rent dan y' watching yourself here, I s'pose. 'Sides, I don' have dat many memories of. . . him. I really only have clear memories of visiting Earth twice maybe an' I don' remember *him* ever comin' t' Chandilar." Charles felt a small pang of regret. His newfound relationship with Remy had been very tenuous and strained in the beginning. However, when they had gone to Chandilar to meet Lilandra, Charles had been envious of the easy rapport that she and Remy seemed to enjoy almost immediately. He had come to realize during their stay that the reason was that Remy simply remembered her more clearly. The Imperial Palace on Chandilar had been his home. Earth was a place he vacationed -- and not very often it seemed. Apparently, Charles hadn't spent much time on Chandilar either. That was something he planned to change. At the table, five-year-old Remy knelt on one of the picnic benches surveying the food. He seemed almost lost among the adults. He held onto a plate that so far held only an empty hotdog bun. Next to him, Logan grabbed the plate of hotdogs and placed one in Remy's bun. "Whaddya want on yer hotdog, kid?" Remy shrugged, eyeing the meat uncertainly. "I don't know. What do you eat on a hotdog?" "You ain't never had a hotdog before? Lil, you are depriving this kid. Let's see, ketchup, mustard, onions, relish, kraut..." "Logan, y'all are going ta make that boy sick." Rogue looked as if she would be as well. "Rem'aillon, how about some ketchup?" Ororo held the bottle questioningly. "Yes, please." The little boy held his plate up while Ororo poured a small amount of ketchup onto his hotdog. Charles watched as Gambit leaned down and whispered something in the boy's ear. The five- year-old looked up at him doubtfully. Gambit winked at him with an encouraging nod. The child giggled and turned back to Ororo. "Thanks, Stormy!" Laughter erupted around the table as Storm threw her iciest glare at Gambit. The effect was lost, however, as the Cajun was already retreating with his food to one of the lounge chairs. At the table, five-year-old Remy looked bewildered and slightly betrayed by the laughter. Ororo tousled his hair. "Don't worry Rem'aillon, *you* may call me Stormy anytime." Charles laughed at the scene. He turned to Remy and saw amusement dancing in his eyes as well. "Gives a whole new meaning to getting yourself into trouble, doesn't it?" Remy laughed out loud. "Y' my witness now. 'Ro has officially given me permission t' call her Stormy." The scene shifted. It was near dark now and many of the X-Men had drifted back into the mansion. Ororo and Logan were finishing clearing the table and Jean had gone to put the baby down for the night. Scott joined Charles and Lilandra at the corner table, and the group watched the two children who never tired of the pool. Remy and Rachel were taking turns throwing a penny over their backs into the lighted water then diving in to see which of them could find and retrieve it first. "Remy, it's time to come out of the pool. You have to get ready for bed soon." The mind- Charles held out a beach towel for his young son. "Abba --" the young boy cried plaintively, "five more minutes, please?" "We gave you five more minutes fifteen minutes ago. Come out now, the pool will still be here tomorrow," Lilandra chimed in. "You too, Rachel," Scott added. "You two have been in the water all day. It's a wonder you haven't sprouted gills and fins." That remark drew giggles as the two children reluctantly made their way out of the pool and wrapped themselves in their towels. "Daddy, do we have any of those sparklers left from the Fourth of July?" Rachel asked as she settled into one of the oversized lawn chairs and Remy wriggled his way in beside her. "I think there might be a box or two left." "Did someone say sparklers?" Logan joined the group brandishing a long slim box in each hand. Rachel jumped up excitedly and grabbed one of the proffered boxes. Remy followed her but it was obvious from his expression that he didn't know what she was going to do with the long stick she pulled out. As he watched, Logan held his cigar lighter to the sparkler until it flared to life. Remy watched the dazzling light with wide-eyed wonder as Rachel danced around twirling the stick and drawing invisible patterns in the air. When the sparkler died down to a faint glow, Rachel handed the burned out stick to her father and reached for another. "Can I do one?" Remy asked Logan eagerly. Logan looked towards Lilandra and Charles for their approval. "May I," Charles corrected absently even as he nodded to Logan. "Come here and I'll help you with the first one." The boy climbed into the hoverchair and settled into Charles' lap as Logan handed him a sparkler. "Careful, Remy. Hold it away from your face." Charles directed as he enfolded the five-year- old's hands in his own. The boy held onto the glittering wand with both hands as far away from his face as his arms would reach. He didn't wave the wand as Rachel had. Instead, he sat transfixed marveling over the twinkling brilliance. He broke his gaze long enough to look up and smile broadly at his father. The real Charles watched the intimacy of thment longingly as the dancing light reflected in both father and son's eyes. "I always loved dose t'ings." The adult Remy looked over at Charles. There was a clear note of nostalgia in his voice. Charles didn't reply. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the scene. It didn't take long for the two children to go through the two boxes. Afterward, they were ushered off to bed while most of the adults remained gathered at the tables, talking quietly by the light of citronella candles. The scelickered once again and Charles found himself standing in a child's bedroom. He was momentarily surprised to see the walls covered with characters from Winnie the Pooh. A giant stuffed Eeyore dominated the collection of stuffed animals which the mind-Charles was in the process of clearing off the bed to make room for Remy. Lilandra was helping the boy out of the wet swim suit that clung to his skin with determination. Charles was overwhelmed by a sense of deja vu as he watched Remy don a pair of blue footed pajamas. His son had been wearing the same pajamas the morning of the massacre. "This all took place--". He couldn't finish. The thought that all this would come crashing to an end soon was unthinkable. "A coupla days before, I t'ink," Remy finished softly beside him. Charles pushed the thoughts away. He didn't want to spoil this gift with the darker memories he experienced with Remy that last time. "What are we reading tonight, Rem'aillon?" the mind-Charles asked as he took up a position beside the bed. The child jumped out of bed and padded over to the bookshelf. Without hesitation, he found the book he wanted and handed it to Charles as he settled back in bed. The real Charles recognized the well-worn copy of "The Velveteen Rabbit." "Again? We read this one every night." "Please, Abba, it's my favorite." Charles smiled indulgently and proceeded to open the book. "I'll leave you two to your story. Good night, dear one." Lilandra kissed the child's forehead as she tucked him in a final time. "'Night, Amma." As she left the room, Lilandra turned off the overhead light, leaving father and son alone in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Charles was mesmerized by the sight and sound of his own voice reading the story that his own father used to read to him. After a time, the scene slowly dissipated. First the bedroom door dissolved, then the bookshelf and dresser, finally the floor. All that was left was the bed with a heavy-lidded child and his father beside him. Even that faded leaving only the soothing voice of the storyteller. Charles felt himself being drawn back to the study, but he resisted. He wanted to hang on as long as he could. But he knew he couldn't. The child was falling asleep. Charles slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He was back in his study. Remy still leaned against the desk but his eyes remained closed. He looked very peaceful as if he himself had been lulled to sleep. When he did open his eyes, he smiled wistfully. Neither of them spoke for a long time. Finally, Remy pushed himself up and placed his hand on Charles' shoulder. "Happy Father's Day, Aban." Charles' heart swelled as he placed his own hand on top of his son's. "Thank you, Remy. That was a beautiful gift."