Mission: Comfort and Cuddles, Part Two
Title: Mission: Comfort and Cuddles
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, more specifically the MSV branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of fire and language, anything else i can toss in. Dare in a skirt and heels.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. Haley belongs to dazzledfirestar Dare belongs to me and you can't have her. trust me. you don't want her. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
Author's Notes: the idea behind this was a cracky one. Gin is working on something in which Dare kind of likes to cuddle. yeah... i'm having a hard time seeing it. so this idea sprang up because of it. Dare has to go back into time to four young men's darkest days and get them to willingly hug her. and she has to hug them in return. yeah... so its kind of serious, kind of cracky. enjoy.
The sunlight blinded her and she made a funny picture as she reached back and tried to refasten her bra under her clothes. As soon as her vision came back to her, she found that she was standing on a broad expanse of rolling green. A glance around showed her plenty of granite markers, some only knee high and some rising up into the sky like screams marking the final resting place for some unlucky soul. Angels and cherubs and praying figures and looming crosses marked her current location as a cemetery.
Some yards from where she stood, one of those awning or tent thingies had been erected over a small section of land. Only a handful of people were sitting in the chairs under it and, even from where she was, Dare could see two holes in the ground. Two gleaming caskets waiting to be lowered into the holes. A droning man in black and sad faces all around.
Great. A fucking funeral. Just where she didn't want to be. She hated funerals. They were always so dull and depressing. Filled with crying, sobbing people. Dare rolled her eyes and glanced around. Really? She had to do this at a funeral? Someone seriously fucking hated her. Or else her brain was more damaged than she'd originally thought.
She hated this bullshit with a passion. When she died, she wanted people to throw the loudest fucking party on the face of the planet. There wouldn't be any sobbing or crying or sniffling or any of that snotty shit allowed. Laughter and smiles and fond memories would be the name of the day. There'd be beer and wine and fucking Metallica. Shit like that. Shit that was cool. Fun. Totally not this whining fest that was going on below her.
But whatever it was that had told her the brown haired boy in the orphanage was the one she'd been there to see was more or less pulling her toward the tent and the small gathering of people there. Great. So she was supposed to go hug some snuffling brat at a funeral. Oh, yes. That was going to go over so well.
Just as she was about to start her way down to the happy gathering, she watched as a blonde head broke away from the rear of the group and started walking away. He wore a dark suit coat and dark pants, his clothes taking on the appearance of a giant bruise against his fair features. She thought the boy would look better in blues and greys. Lighter colors. Nothing so dark and serious. Hell, she thought he might look good in any jewel tones.
The boy was making his way toward a mausoleum some distance from the service going on. After checking the crowd to see if anyone was paying the kid any attention, she started after him. She had to be careful of where she put her feet, carefully picking her way across the grass to avoid breaking her ankle on the soft ground. When she finally caught up with the kid, he was on the far side of the mausoleum, head resting against the wall while he let himself cry. No doubt he was too macho to cry in front of anyone else.
God, what was it about little boys and machismo?
Dare stared at him, wondering how the hell she was supposed to approach this one. He was so obviously full of rage. His hands were fists that occasionally scraped up against the wall of the concrete structure. Great. The kid had anger issues. Reminded her of herself at that age. Or close to that age. The boy looked about nine or ten, and Dare's own temper had really made an appearance until she was ten or eleven. Maybe she didn't know why the boy was angry, but she was sure she could at least understand his anger.
Well, standing here staring at him wasn't going to get her any closer to going home. She had to take the bull by the horns, as the old saying went. Right. "Hey, kid. Don't you know you shouldn't wander away from your family on your own like this? Someone really strange could come grab you."
Blue eyes turned to stare at her, zeroing in on her face like lasers pinning their targets. Bright blue eyes full of tears, anger, sorrow, and confusion. "Someone like you?" he asked, tone haughty and snide.
"I admit I'm strange, but I can assure you you aren't my type. And I don't make a habit of grabbing little boys anyway. If someone grabbed my little boy, or my little girl, I'd beat the ever loving crap out of them," she told him, then fell silent to let him weigh the truth of her words. She pretended not to notice when he wiped tears from his eyes.
"You have kids?" he asked her, only slightly curious. The anger was still thick and heavy underneath it all.
She nodded her head and let pride fill her voice. "I do."
"Do you love 'em?" It seemed an odd question, but there was something in his voice that stopped her from making a flippant reply. She gave the boy a good hard look and saw that there was a fading bruise on his face, Someone had smacked the boy good. She felt hot rage boil up inside of her. No child should ever have to be beaten like that.
"I do. I love them more than my own life," she replied.
The boy stared her dead in the eye. "Would you ever let anyone hurt them?"
"I'd kill anyone who laid a hand on my children and hurt them." Dare's voice was low and soft, all the more deadly for the fact that her words came out as barely a whisper. The boy considered her for a few seconds, considered what she'd told him. Then he nodded, as if he'd come to some kind of decision about her. He turned and put his back to the concrete wall, presenting a relaxed posture that she knew to be a lie. His shoulders were still tight with tension and the pout on his lips was colored with anger. Just like his eyes were. It was an odd combination to go with the small amount of trust she felt he'd given her and the sorrow that clung to him the same way a few tears still clung to his lashes. She glanced back toward the awning and the holes gaping in the ground. "Who were they?"
"My mom." His voice hitched on the word, letting her know that he'd loved her and that his sorrow was for her. "And my dad." He practically spat the words her way. So his father was the one he was angry with. She reached out with a slow hand and gently touched the fading bruise on his face.
"He give you this?" The boy's jaw clenched, tightening down until it had to hurt. She looked around and spied a bench only a few feet away. "Come on. Let's go sit down. I won't touch you and you don't have to talk. But I totally hate these heels and I need to sit before I break my damn neck."
She didn't wait for his answer. She just turned and made for the bench. Let it be his choice if he wanted to sit with her or not. He waited for a few moments after she'd sat, taking care to sit on the farthest side of the bench, then followed after her and took a seat on the bench. Dare relaxed just a little bit and reached down to tug the shoes off so she could rub at her feet.
"Why did you put `em on if you don't like `em?" he asked her.
Dare smiled and turned to give him a look. "Because I can't come show up at a funeral dressed in torn jeans, a faded t-shirt and boots that kick serious ass."
"You wear ass kicking boots?" His tongue didn't trip on the word, letting her know that he'd probably said it more than once in the past. She just nodded and continued to rub her feet. His eyes were wide as he looked her over from head to toe. "I didn't think girls wore ass kicking boots. I thought like liked those silly heels and all kinds of girlie things. You're not a typical girl, are ya?"
"I'm totally not a typical girl. I can kick any boy's ass if he bothers me. There aren't many boys who can beat me."
His eyes went wide at that claim. "You're pulling my leg. Why would you want to kick a boy's ass?"
"I swear that I'm not. I can beat up any boy who picks on me. Because once upon a time, the boys were really mean to me and they made me feel really bad about myself." She leveled him a look and then leaned closer, as if she was going to share a secret with him. In a way, she was. Forgetting his initial distrust of her, he inched closer so that she could whisper her secret in his ear. "But a good friend told me that girls can do anything boys can do. Sometimes better."
"Why would girls want to fight boys? Shouldn't boys try to protect girls?" There was guilt in his voice. Between that and his question, she thought it was a safe bet that his mother had been one of those girls he thought needed protecting.
"Yes. Boys should try to protect girls. But only if the girls can't protect themselves. Some girls are really good at protecting themselves and they might get upset if a boy tried to protect them. They might think that the boy felt they weren't capable. So a boy has to learn how to pick and chose his battles."
Her words saw him making fists of his hands again. "I should have tried harder to protect my mom," he whispered. "Now its my fault that she's--"
Dare hastened to assure him that he was wrong. No child should have to grow up thinking that their mother's death was their fault. She had to force herself not to pull him into her arms and hug him close. She didn't think he'd enjoy it and the timing didn't feel right. "Oh, no, honey. Don't ever think that. It wasn't your fault. I know it'll hurt to hear this, but you're just a kid."
The boy didn't look at her, but she saw the anger riding him again. His hands were once more fists and his jaw was so tight, she was surprised that she couldn't hear his teeth grinding against one another. He also didn't say anything about her comments. In fact, he didn't speak for a long time. When he did, though, she was shocked at the vehemence and loathing in his voice. "I hate him. I hate him and I'm glad he's dead."
She said nothing. He was still young and he needed time to work it out of his system. So she let his statement go. Instead, she focused on other things. "Not all men are like him."
"I ain't gonna grow up to be like him," the boy declared.
"That's good. The less men like him in the world, the better a place it'll be," she confirmed. He turned to look up at her. She gave him a smile. "There will always be bad men, and there will always be people who will fight those bad men. But a good man... Those are harder to come by. There aren't really a lot of good men in the world. I think you'll be a good man. You just have to do something about that temper of yours."
He scowled, prompting her to laugh. "I don't have a temper."
"Sure you don't, kiddo. Just like I didn't have a temper when I was about your age. My mom and dad lived in fear of my rages." She said it so matter of factly, the boy's eyes widened to saucers. "I swear. I was so horrible to them. And I did terrible things when I was younger. It took me a long time to see what my temper could do to people I cared about."
He considered the information, filed it away somewhere in his brain. Then he gave her an honest look, some of the anger and sorrow draining away. Left behind was seriousness and eagerness to learn. "How do I become a good man?"
"First and most importantly, learn to respect yourself. Secondly, learn to respect others. Not everyone you meet will deserve your respect. Fewer people will earn it. But when they do, you'll know you've made a damn good friend. Always try to do the right thing," she paused and gave him a careful look. "Try not to be so hard on yourself when something happens that you have no control over. People aren't perfect. They make mistakes. That means you'll make mistakes. But you can learn from them so you don't make them again. And finally, learn to love yourself."
Dare reached out and tapped her fingers against his chest, over the spot where his heart beat beneath his ribs. "If you can't love yourself, no one else will love you. But if you can do that, if you can love yourself, the people you surround yourself with will love you and they'll do whatever they can to help you when you need it."
"Did you learn all this by being a mom?" he asked her even as he digested her advice.
Dare laughed at that. "Oh, hell no. I learned this by trial and error. I learned it by making mistakes myself. By living through all of it myself. It took me a long time to realize those things. Some of them, I'm still working on."
He nodded at that, then fell silent and stared at her for a few seconds. She watched as his impossibly blue gaze raked her from head to toe again, then a frown twisted his lips. "Why did you come here today? You didn't know my mom and dad and I know I've never seen you before. So why are you here?"
"Because, kiddo," she smiled, then reached out and messed his perfectly combed hair. Somehow, it looked better that way. "I came here to see you. Only you. That's why I followed you over here. So no one caught sight of me."
His eyes went wide at that. "Are you on some kind of secret mission?" he asked, voice filled with awe. "Like some kind of secret agent or something?"
"Yeah, kiddo. Something like that," she grinned at him. If only the boy knew how close he was to the truth. She wanted to tell him that she'd come from the future to help him, but that seemed a bad way to go. And, in all honesty, the boy didn't need anymore weirdness in his life than he already had. So letting him think she was a secret agent was fine. It might even give him smiles for a few days to come.
The boy sighed and slid from the bench. The sadness and the hint of anger were back, letting her know that their visit was at an end. He was ready to go face the real world once more. He gave her a look that was part gratitude, part regret. "I should probably get back. My brother is probably wondering where I'm at." He paused and stuffed his scraped knuckles into his pants pockets. "I wish you could be my mom now."
"I wish I could, too, kiddo. I think I'd like having a son like you. I'd count myself lucky." That put a smile on his face and he turned to head around the corner of the mausoleum. She watched him go and only realized after he'd slipped out of sight that she hadn't gotten her hug from him. Crap on toast. She was stuck here. Which might not be such a bad thing, but she didn't even know where in hell here was.
Sighing, holding on to the curse that wanted out, Dare rose to her feet and started away from the bench. What the hell was she worried about? This was all a really fucking bad hallucination and she'd wake up in Big Blue's infirmary soon enough. And none of this would matter then. Except she'd kind of been looking forward to the kid's hug. Not that she'd ever admit it. But this getting and giving hugs thing was kind of cool.
Kind of.
"Hey, lady!" The kid's voice came around the corner before he did. Dare barely had time to turn toward him before he was throwing himself against her in a hug. She hid her smile and hugged him in return, only half paying attention to where he put his hands. When he pulled back, there was a fierce look on his face and a cocky smile twisting his lips up. She wasn't prepared when he rose up on tip toes and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I promise you I'm going to grow up to be a good man. You're gonna be proud of me."
Then he was gone and she was left staring after him. Well, hell's bells. That was something else she hadn't expected. A grin on her face, she stepped around the other corner of the mausoleum and found herself turning the corner into a brilliant green yard.
Okay. The sudden venue changes were really starting to get on her nerves. Where the hell was she now? It looked like she'd traded a cemetery for someone's yard. A few toys lay scattered across the green of the lawn while the house sat silent and uninviting in the middle of the grassy expanse. A fence raced all the way around the yard, making it safe for the kids who played with those toys. Cars lined the street on either side, up and down as far as she could see. Something big was going on here.
Even as she thought that, a little boy came creeping out of the house by himself. He wasn't very big, probably only about six years old or so. Younger than the others she'd visited. He was dressed similarly to the last boy, in a pair of dark dress pants and a small suit coat that were both colored black. His shirt was pale blue and a clip on bow tie in a darker shade of blue adorned the collar of the shirt. The boy settled on the top of the concrete steps that led up to the door, crossed his arms over his knees, then put his head down and started sobbing.
Great. Another funeral. At least she'd skipped the god damned cemetery with this one. Dare took a few moments to watch the boy. Waited to see if an adult would come looking for him. Minutes ticked by and no one came out the door. Sighing, she crossed to the boy. He obviously needed a shoulder and he wasn't going to get one anywhere else. She purposely made some noise so that he wouldn't be surprised, then waited for him to look up at her.
Her heart broke when he did. His blue eyes were watery, swollen, and rimmed red from crying. His lashes sparkled with tears, spiked and absurdly long around the deep, deep blue of his irises. His nose was running, red at the bottoms of the nostrils, and his lower lip quivered as he tried hard to hold on to the next batch of tears. Damn it, he was so young. Who had he lost? She carefully settled herself on the step next to him and waited. He was still a guy and masculine pride couldn't be pushed or rushed.
He hiccupped a breath as one hand reached up to wipe away the tears and snot clinging to his face. Then he rubbed that hand on his pants. "What with the water works, kiddo?" she asked him softly.
"Its my mom," he managed, his voice high and kind of thin. Probably he'd been crying for a long time. She felt that pang of sadness again at his announcement. "She died." His voice was a bare whisper of sound this time. Damn. The poor kid.
She made a show of looking around before she inched closer to him and slung a careful arm around his little shoulders. "I'm sorry, kiddo. You obviously miss her a lot." He didn't speak. Just nodded his head. "Where's your dad?"
"He's inside. He isn't talking to anyone. He locked himself in his bedroom and..." the boy sniffled. Dare sighed and shook her head. She could well imagine.
"Isn't there anyone else to look after you?"
"My sister. But she's too busy being grown up to have time for me." There was a note of despair in his voice. He obviously needed his sister because his father could do for him at the moment. "She's in talking to all the people who came from the funeral."
"And you couldn't stay in there because there are stuffy adults every where and not one little kid to talk to or play with." She didn't make it a question but he nodded anyway. It had to be horrible for the little guy. He should have a shoulder to cry on. He shouldn't have to sit out here all by himself and try to deal with his grief on his own. Dare didn't even realize she'd made the decision until she had the boy pulled into her lap. He settled across her thighs and leaned his head against her shoulder. She wrapped loose arms around him and silently offered him her strength.
"Why did mommy have to go away?" he asked her, sniffling again. She thought he might be on the verge of a fresh spate of tears. His childish voice said that he desperately wanted to understand what had happened. And she didn't have any really good answers.
"I don't know, kiddo. Some people would say that God wanted her with Him so it was her time to go." She shrugged against him. "Personally, I don't really buy that story. But it makes others feel better."
"It doesn't make me feel better," he replied. A tear snaked its way down his pale cheek to soak into her clothes. "I want God to give mommy back. I don't want her to go away."
"I know, sweetie. And I know for a fact that she didn't want to leave you. If she'd made the choice, she'd have stayed right here with you. But she didn't get to make the choice. And that's so unfair." She reached up to stroke his hair, his soft blonde locks like silk against her palm.
"Why would God want her?" His voice was barely a whisper and more tears were soaking into her jacket and shirt all the time.
"Maybe God wanted her to be one of his angels," she suggested. She kind of hated telling him things like this, but he was so young and anything else she could have said would have meant nothing to him. She wasn't sure that a boy so young could fully grasp what death was, other than his mommy wasn't going to ever come back. Hard lesson to learn when you were supposed to be living the best years of your life. "I bet your mommy would make a pretty angel."
He said nothing.
"And if she's an angel, she'll always be able to watch over you, sweetie. You'll never be alone."
That brought his head up and he sniffled again, staring at her with large liquid eyes that seemed filled with confusion and loss. "Really? Mommy will always be with me?"
Dare nodded, throat kind of tight. This kind of thing really wasn't her bag and she was more or less flying by the seat of her pants. Or was that her pantyhose? She lifted a hand to touch his chest, where his heart was. And then his head. "She'll be in those two places. Always. You might not be able to see her, but she'll be there."
"I miss her," he told Dare quietly.
"I know you do, kiddo. And I'm sure there's no where in the world your mommy would rather be than here at your side. But she can't. So she misses you, too. And she loves you."
"I love Mommy."
Dare tugged the boy into her chest and hugged him close. "I know. And so does your mommy."
They sat like that for a good long time, the boy leaking more tears as he cried out more of his sorrow. An occasional sniffle let her know that she wasn't going to escape this without some snot smeared on her shirt. And she didn't care about it one damned bit. Because all she could think about was Liam and how he'd react to not having her around. And how this little guy needed a mom so much and she wished that she could take him with her. But it was still just a hallucination after all and he would only be a distant memory when she finally woke up.
Softly, in a low voice, she began singing to him. Something that her mother had sung to her when she'd been little and upset. Something that she'd sung to her own children when they'd needed a soothing touch. The tension leaked from his shoulders slowly and, much to her horror, the boy fell asleep against her.
She couldn't sit here forever with the boy in her lap. She had to wake up some time, didn't she? But she couldn't leave him here on the steps and she couldn't get up to carry him into the house. People would no doubt look at her funny and then there'd be police involved and she didn't have the patience to deal with the cops. But the poor little guy was so tuckered out. No doubt he'd been crying for hours and without someone to hold him, without someone to tell him what was going on, he had spent the day confused and lost. He needed the rest.
So she sat, her ass going numb and aching from sitting on the hard surface of the concrete steps. And she held him close, continued to sing to him while he slept. And she hoped like hell that her own children would never have to go through with this. Being an X-Man meant putting her life in danger. But she'd always come out of her missions with little more than a scratch or two. And some killer fucking headaches. What would happen to Dee and Liam if she didn't come home one time?
What would happen to Logan and everyone she considered family?
A heavy, hoarse voice shattered the silence and brought the boy awake. He blinked sleep from his eyes as he struggled to clear it from his head as well. Dare let him sit up and ran a hand through his hair, brushing a few errant strands away from his face. The boy frowned. "I gotta go. That's my dad."
He didn't sound happy. And she could hear people trying to talk to him. It was probably a wise idea to get the boy back inside before something went wrong and she had to ruin the day by torching someone. "Okay, kiddo. Just remember. Your mom is watching over you. She always will. And she'll always love you."
He tried to give her a brave face, but his lower lip quivered slightly and fresh tears were clogging his eyes. She smiled at him, reaching out to straighten his rumpled clothes. "You must be an angel. You were here when I needed you," he whispered. Thin but strong arms wrapped themselves around her neck and squeeze tight. Dare returned the favor. "Tell my mommy that I love her when you see her."
He was gone before she could correct his assumption.
Dare swallowed hard and rose to her feet. She cast a look over her shoulder at the house, but no one looked back at her. As if no one but the boy had known she was there. Sighing, she started for the gate. Please, God, let this be the last fucking stop of this freaky weird hallucination. She didn't think she could take much more of this shit.
The second she stepped past the gate, she found herself back in the hallway outside of the infirmary. And the horny guy was leaning up against the door, blocking her path. She crossed her arms and glared up at him. "What the fuck was all that shit?"
"A hallucination. Nothing more. At least, that is the excuse you keep giving yourself. But we both know its far from the truth."
"You should go the fuck away. Right now. Before I fucking roast your nuts. There's nothing quite like the smell of burnt flesh."
Horn boy smiled down at her. "Your powers are useless against someone of my ilk, child. Best you remember that for it will serve you in good stead at a later date."
"Someone of your ilk? Who the fuck talks like that anymore? I wasn't aware my brain knew that kind of language. Get out of my way or I swear I'll--" she snarled at him. Except he didn't move out of her way. He only lifted a hand and pressed two fingers to her forehead. And a wave of something washed through her.
"Sleep, child of fire. Sleep and regain your strength. You will need it soon. And remember, young Alasdare, I will be watching."
His words had barely ended when she saw the floor rushing up to meet her again and all she could think was "Oh fuck! This is going to hurt!" and then there was nothing but sweet oblivion and she was lost in the darkness once again.
~*~
"How the hell did she end up out in the hall?" Logan demanded. His tone was pretty damned strident and it was doing nothing for the big fucking headache that throbbed behind her eyes. Dare tried to pull the pillow over her head but her arms were limp as wet noodles and Morgan's death grip on her hand wouldn't let her manage it anyway.
"I have no idea, Logan. Yelling at me will not change the fact that Dare was unconscious in the hallway."
"If you hadn't turned yer back on her--" Logan began but the look that Henry sent him shut him up. Dare almost grinned in relief, but that required moving muscles that hurt too fucking much to bother.
"I can assure you, Logan, that she was safely ensconced in her bed when I last checked on her. And I did not leave my office. I would have noticed her leaving her bed if she had climbed form it." There was damn near a growl in Beast's normally cool voice.
Logan opened his mouth to rail at Henry again, but a burst of flames against the glass of the office window caught his attention. Caught Henry's attention, too. Every set of eyes turned her way and Dare struggled to pull herself upright in the bed. Remy made as if to stop her, then saw the determination in her eyes and gave her a hand instead. She flashed him a pained smile, then turned her attention to the other two men.
"That's enough, both of you. Quit bitching and just accept the fact that no one knows what happened. I'm fine. I didn't get hurt. I didn't break anything. So just shut the fuck up and let me get some rest!" she snarled at them, then frowned and felt herself turning green. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to puke and then pass out."
Remy barely got out of the way in the nick of time. When she was done spewing her guts on the floor, she flopped back against the bed and decided that passing out was a really fucking good idea.
~*~*~*~*~
"Roxxy told me you got hurt," Haley said by way of greeting as Dare joined her in the private rooms she and Johnny shared in the Baxter Building. Said annoying blonde jerk was currently getting Spencer ready to take to the park so that she and Haley could have some alone time. Of course, based on how large Haley's belly had gotten since Dare had last seen her, it was possible that they might not be alone for long. The look of concern on her face prompted Dare to smile.
"Piece of rubble hit me in the head. You know how hard that is," she replied.
Haley grinned, but it was tempered with concern. "Roxxy said that you were bruised from your shoulders to your waist."
Dare shot her a look. "Hey, Pregnant person. Stop worrying about me. I don't intend to play Johnny Bench and catch those two when they come shooting out."
"Crass as ever. Damn. I was hoping that blow to the head would have knocked some sense into you," the redhead teased. Dare only smiled and shook her head. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Had the best care there is. Its all water under the bridge at this point," Dare replied, then pointed a finger at her. "And that's enough about me. I'm not here to talk about me. I'm here to talk to my friend about what's been going on. That's all. The next time you mention me in relation to my mishap in the Danger Room, I'll set your ass on fire."
Haley laughed and put her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it. I'm done. Actually, I do have something to show you. Sue was nice enough to dig up some of the old family albums and I wanted to show you just how much Spencer looked like his father when he was a baby."
"As long as I don't have to look at pictures of Burnout, I'm good," she protested. But it was only a bluff and they both knew it. Haley produced the album she'd mentioned and opened it to the beginning. Each picture was lovingly labeled by a careful hand and the very first ones on the page were pictures of Sue when she was a baby. Even then, the woman had had pale blonde hair.
Images passed, photos of Sue as she grew. Of her parents. Doting mother, loving father. Soon enough, another baby joined the pictures. Johnny, obviously. Even then, he'd had that cocky grin of his. How an angelic looking little baby could wear that grin was beyond her. But Haley was right. Dare could see Spencer in the face captured long ago by happy parents.
Haley flipped pages, only occasionally saying something about them now. But one caught Dare's attention and she put her finger on it. "This one, Haley. When was this one taken?" Dare stared at the image in the photograph and thought she was losing her mind.
Haley glanced at it and frowned. "This is Johnny when he was about six. Someone took it during his mom's funeral. He was such a mess that day. And his dad was no help. He was having a hard time with his wife's death so he was..."
"Drunk. And Sue was playing the grown up. No one had time for Johnny." Dare finished. Haley was staring at her as if she couldn't understand what was going on. Dare didn't really know, either. All she knew was that Johnny had needed a shoulder that day and she'd loaned him hers. "I told him she was an angel," she whispered and traced a finger across the surface of the picture. A picture that showed a sad little boy in a black coat and pants, in a light blue shirt with a darker blue bow tie, as he laid a single white rose on a gleaming coffin.
Haley's hand reached out to cover hers. "Dare? Are you okay? You've gone pale. Should I call Logan?"
"No. I'm fine. Instead, let me tell you a story. About a crabby bitch woman and a guy with horns on his head and four little boys who desperately needed someone to give them a hug."
"Dare?" Haley asked.
"I was there that day, Haley. I gave Johnny a hug on the worst day of his life. And I told him that his mom would always be with him. That she was an angel and she'd always look after him. Holy crap, I wasn't hallucinating. I was really there."
Haley said nothing. Probably she was as shocked as Dare was. That wasn't something she'd expected at all. That it was real. And crap. That meant that Horny Guy was real, too. And he'd told her he'd be watching over her.
A particularly bright shaft of sunlight poured through the window and drew Dare's gaze toward the New York City skyline. There, in the middle of the light, she saw the reflection of a tallish man in green and gold on the glass. A pair of horns topped his head and a knowing smile curved up his lips. She could only stare. Fucking hell! She had to be seeing things.
The figure smirked, then winked, then he was gone.
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, more specifically the MSV branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of fire and language, anything else i can toss in. Dare in a skirt and heels.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. Haley belongs to dazzledfirestar Dare belongs to me and you can't have her. trust me. you don't want her. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
Author's Notes: the idea behind this was a cracky one. Gin is working on something in which Dare kind of likes to cuddle. yeah... i'm having a hard time seeing it. so this idea sprang up because of it. Dare has to go back into time to four young men's darkest days and get them to willingly hug her. and she has to hug them in return. yeah... so its kind of serious, kind of cracky. enjoy.
The sunlight blinded her and she made a funny picture as she reached back and tried to refasten her bra under her clothes. As soon as her vision came back to her, she found that she was standing on a broad expanse of rolling green. A glance around showed her plenty of granite markers, some only knee high and some rising up into the sky like screams marking the final resting place for some unlucky soul. Angels and cherubs and praying figures and looming crosses marked her current location as a cemetery.
Some yards from where she stood, one of those awning or tent thingies had been erected over a small section of land. Only a handful of people were sitting in the chairs under it and, even from where she was, Dare could see two holes in the ground. Two gleaming caskets waiting to be lowered into the holes. A droning man in black and sad faces all around.
Great. A fucking funeral. Just where she didn't want to be. She hated funerals. They were always so dull and depressing. Filled with crying, sobbing people. Dare rolled her eyes and glanced around. Really? She had to do this at a funeral? Someone seriously fucking hated her. Or else her brain was more damaged than she'd originally thought.
She hated this bullshit with a passion. When she died, she wanted people to throw the loudest fucking party on the face of the planet. There wouldn't be any sobbing or crying or sniffling or any of that snotty shit allowed. Laughter and smiles and fond memories would be the name of the day. There'd be beer and wine and fucking Metallica. Shit like that. Shit that was cool. Fun. Totally not this whining fest that was going on below her.
But whatever it was that had told her the brown haired boy in the orphanage was the one she'd been there to see was more or less pulling her toward the tent and the small gathering of people there. Great. So she was supposed to go hug some snuffling brat at a funeral. Oh, yes. That was going to go over so well.
Just as she was about to start her way down to the happy gathering, she watched as a blonde head broke away from the rear of the group and started walking away. He wore a dark suit coat and dark pants, his clothes taking on the appearance of a giant bruise against his fair features. She thought the boy would look better in blues and greys. Lighter colors. Nothing so dark and serious. Hell, she thought he might look good in any jewel tones.
The boy was making his way toward a mausoleum some distance from the service going on. After checking the crowd to see if anyone was paying the kid any attention, she started after him. She had to be careful of where she put her feet, carefully picking her way across the grass to avoid breaking her ankle on the soft ground. When she finally caught up with the kid, he was on the far side of the mausoleum, head resting against the wall while he let himself cry. No doubt he was too macho to cry in front of anyone else.
God, what was it about little boys and machismo?
Dare stared at him, wondering how the hell she was supposed to approach this one. He was so obviously full of rage. His hands were fists that occasionally scraped up against the wall of the concrete structure. Great. The kid had anger issues. Reminded her of herself at that age. Or close to that age. The boy looked about nine or ten, and Dare's own temper had really made an appearance until she was ten or eleven. Maybe she didn't know why the boy was angry, but she was sure she could at least understand his anger.
Well, standing here staring at him wasn't going to get her any closer to going home. She had to take the bull by the horns, as the old saying went. Right. "Hey, kid. Don't you know you shouldn't wander away from your family on your own like this? Someone really strange could come grab you."
Blue eyes turned to stare at her, zeroing in on her face like lasers pinning their targets. Bright blue eyes full of tears, anger, sorrow, and confusion. "Someone like you?" he asked, tone haughty and snide.
"I admit I'm strange, but I can assure you you aren't my type. And I don't make a habit of grabbing little boys anyway. If someone grabbed my little boy, or my little girl, I'd beat the ever loving crap out of them," she told him, then fell silent to let him weigh the truth of her words. She pretended not to notice when he wiped tears from his eyes.
"You have kids?" he asked her, only slightly curious. The anger was still thick and heavy underneath it all.
She nodded her head and let pride fill her voice. "I do."
"Do you love 'em?" It seemed an odd question, but there was something in his voice that stopped her from making a flippant reply. She gave the boy a good hard look and saw that there was a fading bruise on his face, Someone had smacked the boy good. She felt hot rage boil up inside of her. No child should ever have to be beaten like that.
"I do. I love them more than my own life," she replied.
The boy stared her dead in the eye. "Would you ever let anyone hurt them?"
"I'd kill anyone who laid a hand on my children and hurt them." Dare's voice was low and soft, all the more deadly for the fact that her words came out as barely a whisper. The boy considered her for a few seconds, considered what she'd told him. Then he nodded, as if he'd come to some kind of decision about her. He turned and put his back to the concrete wall, presenting a relaxed posture that she knew to be a lie. His shoulders were still tight with tension and the pout on his lips was colored with anger. Just like his eyes were. It was an odd combination to go with the small amount of trust she felt he'd given her and the sorrow that clung to him the same way a few tears still clung to his lashes. She glanced back toward the awning and the holes gaping in the ground. "Who were they?"
"My mom." His voice hitched on the word, letting her know that he'd loved her and that his sorrow was for her. "And my dad." He practically spat the words her way. So his father was the one he was angry with. She reached out with a slow hand and gently touched the fading bruise on his face.
"He give you this?" The boy's jaw clenched, tightening down until it had to hurt. She looked around and spied a bench only a few feet away. "Come on. Let's go sit down. I won't touch you and you don't have to talk. But I totally hate these heels and I need to sit before I break my damn neck."
She didn't wait for his answer. She just turned and made for the bench. Let it be his choice if he wanted to sit with her or not. He waited for a few moments after she'd sat, taking care to sit on the farthest side of the bench, then followed after her and took a seat on the bench. Dare relaxed just a little bit and reached down to tug the shoes off so she could rub at her feet.
"Why did you put `em on if you don't like `em?" he asked her.
Dare smiled and turned to give him a look. "Because I can't come show up at a funeral dressed in torn jeans, a faded t-shirt and boots that kick serious ass."
"You wear ass kicking boots?" His tongue didn't trip on the word, letting her know that he'd probably said it more than once in the past. She just nodded and continued to rub her feet. His eyes were wide as he looked her over from head to toe. "I didn't think girls wore ass kicking boots. I thought like liked those silly heels and all kinds of girlie things. You're not a typical girl, are ya?"
"I'm totally not a typical girl. I can kick any boy's ass if he bothers me. There aren't many boys who can beat me."
His eyes went wide at that claim. "You're pulling my leg. Why would you want to kick a boy's ass?"
"I swear that I'm not. I can beat up any boy who picks on me. Because once upon a time, the boys were really mean to me and they made me feel really bad about myself." She leveled him a look and then leaned closer, as if she was going to share a secret with him. In a way, she was. Forgetting his initial distrust of her, he inched closer so that she could whisper her secret in his ear. "But a good friend told me that girls can do anything boys can do. Sometimes better."
"Why would girls want to fight boys? Shouldn't boys try to protect girls?" There was guilt in his voice. Between that and his question, she thought it was a safe bet that his mother had been one of those girls he thought needed protecting.
"Yes. Boys should try to protect girls. But only if the girls can't protect themselves. Some girls are really good at protecting themselves and they might get upset if a boy tried to protect them. They might think that the boy felt they weren't capable. So a boy has to learn how to pick and chose his battles."
Her words saw him making fists of his hands again. "I should have tried harder to protect my mom," he whispered. "Now its my fault that she's--"
Dare hastened to assure him that he was wrong. No child should have to grow up thinking that their mother's death was their fault. She had to force herself not to pull him into her arms and hug him close. She didn't think he'd enjoy it and the timing didn't feel right. "Oh, no, honey. Don't ever think that. It wasn't your fault. I know it'll hurt to hear this, but you're just a kid."
The boy didn't look at her, but she saw the anger riding him again. His hands were once more fists and his jaw was so tight, she was surprised that she couldn't hear his teeth grinding against one another. He also didn't say anything about her comments. In fact, he didn't speak for a long time. When he did, though, she was shocked at the vehemence and loathing in his voice. "I hate him. I hate him and I'm glad he's dead."
She said nothing. He was still young and he needed time to work it out of his system. So she let his statement go. Instead, she focused on other things. "Not all men are like him."
"I ain't gonna grow up to be like him," the boy declared.
"That's good. The less men like him in the world, the better a place it'll be," she confirmed. He turned to look up at her. She gave him a smile. "There will always be bad men, and there will always be people who will fight those bad men. But a good man... Those are harder to come by. There aren't really a lot of good men in the world. I think you'll be a good man. You just have to do something about that temper of yours."
He scowled, prompting her to laugh. "I don't have a temper."
"Sure you don't, kiddo. Just like I didn't have a temper when I was about your age. My mom and dad lived in fear of my rages." She said it so matter of factly, the boy's eyes widened to saucers. "I swear. I was so horrible to them. And I did terrible things when I was younger. It took me a long time to see what my temper could do to people I cared about."
He considered the information, filed it away somewhere in his brain. Then he gave her an honest look, some of the anger and sorrow draining away. Left behind was seriousness and eagerness to learn. "How do I become a good man?"
"First and most importantly, learn to respect yourself. Secondly, learn to respect others. Not everyone you meet will deserve your respect. Fewer people will earn it. But when they do, you'll know you've made a damn good friend. Always try to do the right thing," she paused and gave him a careful look. "Try not to be so hard on yourself when something happens that you have no control over. People aren't perfect. They make mistakes. That means you'll make mistakes. But you can learn from them so you don't make them again. And finally, learn to love yourself."
Dare reached out and tapped her fingers against his chest, over the spot where his heart beat beneath his ribs. "If you can't love yourself, no one else will love you. But if you can do that, if you can love yourself, the people you surround yourself with will love you and they'll do whatever they can to help you when you need it."
"Did you learn all this by being a mom?" he asked her even as he digested her advice.
Dare laughed at that. "Oh, hell no. I learned this by trial and error. I learned it by making mistakes myself. By living through all of it myself. It took me a long time to realize those things. Some of them, I'm still working on."
He nodded at that, then fell silent and stared at her for a few seconds. She watched as his impossibly blue gaze raked her from head to toe again, then a frown twisted his lips. "Why did you come here today? You didn't know my mom and dad and I know I've never seen you before. So why are you here?"
"Because, kiddo," she smiled, then reached out and messed his perfectly combed hair. Somehow, it looked better that way. "I came here to see you. Only you. That's why I followed you over here. So no one caught sight of me."
His eyes went wide at that. "Are you on some kind of secret mission?" he asked, voice filled with awe. "Like some kind of secret agent or something?"
"Yeah, kiddo. Something like that," she grinned at him. If only the boy knew how close he was to the truth. She wanted to tell him that she'd come from the future to help him, but that seemed a bad way to go. And, in all honesty, the boy didn't need anymore weirdness in his life than he already had. So letting him think she was a secret agent was fine. It might even give him smiles for a few days to come.
The boy sighed and slid from the bench. The sadness and the hint of anger were back, letting her know that their visit was at an end. He was ready to go face the real world once more. He gave her a look that was part gratitude, part regret. "I should probably get back. My brother is probably wondering where I'm at." He paused and stuffed his scraped knuckles into his pants pockets. "I wish you could be my mom now."
"I wish I could, too, kiddo. I think I'd like having a son like you. I'd count myself lucky." That put a smile on his face and he turned to head around the corner of the mausoleum. She watched him go and only realized after he'd slipped out of sight that she hadn't gotten her hug from him. Crap on toast. She was stuck here. Which might not be such a bad thing, but she didn't even know where in hell here was.
Sighing, holding on to the curse that wanted out, Dare rose to her feet and started away from the bench. What the hell was she worried about? This was all a really fucking bad hallucination and she'd wake up in Big Blue's infirmary soon enough. And none of this would matter then. Except she'd kind of been looking forward to the kid's hug. Not that she'd ever admit it. But this getting and giving hugs thing was kind of cool.
Kind of.
"Hey, lady!" The kid's voice came around the corner before he did. Dare barely had time to turn toward him before he was throwing himself against her in a hug. She hid her smile and hugged him in return, only half paying attention to where he put his hands. When he pulled back, there was a fierce look on his face and a cocky smile twisting his lips up. She wasn't prepared when he rose up on tip toes and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I promise you I'm going to grow up to be a good man. You're gonna be proud of me."
Then he was gone and she was left staring after him. Well, hell's bells. That was something else she hadn't expected. A grin on her face, she stepped around the other corner of the mausoleum and found herself turning the corner into a brilliant green yard.
Okay. The sudden venue changes were really starting to get on her nerves. Where the hell was she now? It looked like she'd traded a cemetery for someone's yard. A few toys lay scattered across the green of the lawn while the house sat silent and uninviting in the middle of the grassy expanse. A fence raced all the way around the yard, making it safe for the kids who played with those toys. Cars lined the street on either side, up and down as far as she could see. Something big was going on here.
Even as she thought that, a little boy came creeping out of the house by himself. He wasn't very big, probably only about six years old or so. Younger than the others she'd visited. He was dressed similarly to the last boy, in a pair of dark dress pants and a small suit coat that were both colored black. His shirt was pale blue and a clip on bow tie in a darker shade of blue adorned the collar of the shirt. The boy settled on the top of the concrete steps that led up to the door, crossed his arms over his knees, then put his head down and started sobbing.
Great. Another funeral. At least she'd skipped the god damned cemetery with this one. Dare took a few moments to watch the boy. Waited to see if an adult would come looking for him. Minutes ticked by and no one came out the door. Sighing, she crossed to the boy. He obviously needed a shoulder and he wasn't going to get one anywhere else. She purposely made some noise so that he wouldn't be surprised, then waited for him to look up at her.
Her heart broke when he did. His blue eyes were watery, swollen, and rimmed red from crying. His lashes sparkled with tears, spiked and absurdly long around the deep, deep blue of his irises. His nose was running, red at the bottoms of the nostrils, and his lower lip quivered as he tried hard to hold on to the next batch of tears. Damn it, he was so young. Who had he lost? She carefully settled herself on the step next to him and waited. He was still a guy and masculine pride couldn't be pushed or rushed.
He hiccupped a breath as one hand reached up to wipe away the tears and snot clinging to his face. Then he rubbed that hand on his pants. "What with the water works, kiddo?" she asked him softly.
"Its my mom," he managed, his voice high and kind of thin. Probably he'd been crying for a long time. She felt that pang of sadness again at his announcement. "She died." His voice was a bare whisper of sound this time. Damn. The poor kid.
She made a show of looking around before she inched closer to him and slung a careful arm around his little shoulders. "I'm sorry, kiddo. You obviously miss her a lot." He didn't speak. Just nodded his head. "Where's your dad?"
"He's inside. He isn't talking to anyone. He locked himself in his bedroom and..." the boy sniffled. Dare sighed and shook her head. She could well imagine.
"Isn't there anyone else to look after you?"
"My sister. But she's too busy being grown up to have time for me." There was a note of despair in his voice. He obviously needed his sister because his father could do for him at the moment. "She's in talking to all the people who came from the funeral."
"And you couldn't stay in there because there are stuffy adults every where and not one little kid to talk to or play with." She didn't make it a question but he nodded anyway. It had to be horrible for the little guy. He should have a shoulder to cry on. He shouldn't have to sit out here all by himself and try to deal with his grief on his own. Dare didn't even realize she'd made the decision until she had the boy pulled into her lap. He settled across her thighs and leaned his head against her shoulder. She wrapped loose arms around him and silently offered him her strength.
"Why did mommy have to go away?" he asked her, sniffling again. She thought he might be on the verge of a fresh spate of tears. His childish voice said that he desperately wanted to understand what had happened. And she didn't have any really good answers.
"I don't know, kiddo. Some people would say that God wanted her with Him so it was her time to go." She shrugged against him. "Personally, I don't really buy that story. But it makes others feel better."
"It doesn't make me feel better," he replied. A tear snaked its way down his pale cheek to soak into her clothes. "I want God to give mommy back. I don't want her to go away."
"I know, sweetie. And I know for a fact that she didn't want to leave you. If she'd made the choice, she'd have stayed right here with you. But she didn't get to make the choice. And that's so unfair." She reached up to stroke his hair, his soft blonde locks like silk against her palm.
"Why would God want her?" His voice was barely a whisper and more tears were soaking into her jacket and shirt all the time.
"Maybe God wanted her to be one of his angels," she suggested. She kind of hated telling him things like this, but he was so young and anything else she could have said would have meant nothing to him. She wasn't sure that a boy so young could fully grasp what death was, other than his mommy wasn't going to ever come back. Hard lesson to learn when you were supposed to be living the best years of your life. "I bet your mommy would make a pretty angel."
He said nothing.
"And if she's an angel, she'll always be able to watch over you, sweetie. You'll never be alone."
That brought his head up and he sniffled again, staring at her with large liquid eyes that seemed filled with confusion and loss. "Really? Mommy will always be with me?"
Dare nodded, throat kind of tight. This kind of thing really wasn't her bag and she was more or less flying by the seat of her pants. Or was that her pantyhose? She lifted a hand to touch his chest, where his heart was. And then his head. "She'll be in those two places. Always. You might not be able to see her, but she'll be there."
"I miss her," he told Dare quietly.
"I know you do, kiddo. And I'm sure there's no where in the world your mommy would rather be than here at your side. But she can't. So she misses you, too. And she loves you."
"I love Mommy."
Dare tugged the boy into her chest and hugged him close. "I know. And so does your mommy."
They sat like that for a good long time, the boy leaking more tears as he cried out more of his sorrow. An occasional sniffle let her know that she wasn't going to escape this without some snot smeared on her shirt. And she didn't care about it one damned bit. Because all she could think about was Liam and how he'd react to not having her around. And how this little guy needed a mom so much and she wished that she could take him with her. But it was still just a hallucination after all and he would only be a distant memory when she finally woke up.
Softly, in a low voice, she began singing to him. Something that her mother had sung to her when she'd been little and upset. Something that she'd sung to her own children when they'd needed a soothing touch. The tension leaked from his shoulders slowly and, much to her horror, the boy fell asleep against her.
She couldn't sit here forever with the boy in her lap. She had to wake up some time, didn't she? But she couldn't leave him here on the steps and she couldn't get up to carry him into the house. People would no doubt look at her funny and then there'd be police involved and she didn't have the patience to deal with the cops. But the poor little guy was so tuckered out. No doubt he'd been crying for hours and without someone to hold him, without someone to tell him what was going on, he had spent the day confused and lost. He needed the rest.
So she sat, her ass going numb and aching from sitting on the hard surface of the concrete steps. And she held him close, continued to sing to him while he slept. And she hoped like hell that her own children would never have to go through with this. Being an X-Man meant putting her life in danger. But she'd always come out of her missions with little more than a scratch or two. And some killer fucking headaches. What would happen to Dee and Liam if she didn't come home one time?
What would happen to Logan and everyone she considered family?
A heavy, hoarse voice shattered the silence and brought the boy awake. He blinked sleep from his eyes as he struggled to clear it from his head as well. Dare let him sit up and ran a hand through his hair, brushing a few errant strands away from his face. The boy frowned. "I gotta go. That's my dad."
He didn't sound happy. And she could hear people trying to talk to him. It was probably a wise idea to get the boy back inside before something went wrong and she had to ruin the day by torching someone. "Okay, kiddo. Just remember. Your mom is watching over you. She always will. And she'll always love you."
He tried to give her a brave face, but his lower lip quivered slightly and fresh tears were clogging his eyes. She smiled at him, reaching out to straighten his rumpled clothes. "You must be an angel. You were here when I needed you," he whispered. Thin but strong arms wrapped themselves around her neck and squeeze tight. Dare returned the favor. "Tell my mommy that I love her when you see her."
He was gone before she could correct his assumption.
Dare swallowed hard and rose to her feet. She cast a look over her shoulder at the house, but no one looked back at her. As if no one but the boy had known she was there. Sighing, she started for the gate. Please, God, let this be the last fucking stop of this freaky weird hallucination. She didn't think she could take much more of this shit.
The second she stepped past the gate, she found herself back in the hallway outside of the infirmary. And the horny guy was leaning up against the door, blocking her path. She crossed her arms and glared up at him. "What the fuck was all that shit?"
"A hallucination. Nothing more. At least, that is the excuse you keep giving yourself. But we both know its far from the truth."
"You should go the fuck away. Right now. Before I fucking roast your nuts. There's nothing quite like the smell of burnt flesh."
Horn boy smiled down at her. "Your powers are useless against someone of my ilk, child. Best you remember that for it will serve you in good stead at a later date."
"Someone of your ilk? Who the fuck talks like that anymore? I wasn't aware my brain knew that kind of language. Get out of my way or I swear I'll--" she snarled at him. Except he didn't move out of her way. He only lifted a hand and pressed two fingers to her forehead. And a wave of something washed through her.
"Sleep, child of fire. Sleep and regain your strength. You will need it soon. And remember, young Alasdare, I will be watching."
His words had barely ended when she saw the floor rushing up to meet her again and all she could think was "Oh fuck! This is going to hurt!" and then there was nothing but sweet oblivion and she was lost in the darkness once again.
~*~
"How the hell did she end up out in the hall?" Logan demanded. His tone was pretty damned strident and it was doing nothing for the big fucking headache that throbbed behind her eyes. Dare tried to pull the pillow over her head but her arms were limp as wet noodles and Morgan's death grip on her hand wouldn't let her manage it anyway.
"I have no idea, Logan. Yelling at me will not change the fact that Dare was unconscious in the hallway."
"If you hadn't turned yer back on her--" Logan began but the look that Henry sent him shut him up. Dare almost grinned in relief, but that required moving muscles that hurt too fucking much to bother.
"I can assure you, Logan, that she was safely ensconced in her bed when I last checked on her. And I did not leave my office. I would have noticed her leaving her bed if she had climbed form it." There was damn near a growl in Beast's normally cool voice.
Logan opened his mouth to rail at Henry again, but a burst of flames against the glass of the office window caught his attention. Caught Henry's attention, too. Every set of eyes turned her way and Dare struggled to pull herself upright in the bed. Remy made as if to stop her, then saw the determination in her eyes and gave her a hand instead. She flashed him a pained smile, then turned her attention to the other two men.
"That's enough, both of you. Quit bitching and just accept the fact that no one knows what happened. I'm fine. I didn't get hurt. I didn't break anything. So just shut the fuck up and let me get some rest!" she snarled at them, then frowned and felt herself turning green. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to puke and then pass out."
Remy barely got out of the way in the nick of time. When she was done spewing her guts on the floor, she flopped back against the bed and decided that passing out was a really fucking good idea.
~*~*~*~*~
"Roxxy told me you got hurt," Haley said by way of greeting as Dare joined her in the private rooms she and Johnny shared in the Baxter Building. Said annoying blonde jerk was currently getting Spencer ready to take to the park so that she and Haley could have some alone time. Of course, based on how large Haley's belly had gotten since Dare had last seen her, it was possible that they might not be alone for long. The look of concern on her face prompted Dare to smile.
"Piece of rubble hit me in the head. You know how hard that is," she replied.
Haley grinned, but it was tempered with concern. "Roxxy said that you were bruised from your shoulders to your waist."
Dare shot her a look. "Hey, Pregnant person. Stop worrying about me. I don't intend to play Johnny Bench and catch those two when they come shooting out."
"Crass as ever. Damn. I was hoping that blow to the head would have knocked some sense into you," the redhead teased. Dare only smiled and shook her head. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Had the best care there is. Its all water under the bridge at this point," Dare replied, then pointed a finger at her. "And that's enough about me. I'm not here to talk about me. I'm here to talk to my friend about what's been going on. That's all. The next time you mention me in relation to my mishap in the Danger Room, I'll set your ass on fire."
Haley laughed and put her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it. I'm done. Actually, I do have something to show you. Sue was nice enough to dig up some of the old family albums and I wanted to show you just how much Spencer looked like his father when he was a baby."
"As long as I don't have to look at pictures of Burnout, I'm good," she protested. But it was only a bluff and they both knew it. Haley produced the album she'd mentioned and opened it to the beginning. Each picture was lovingly labeled by a careful hand and the very first ones on the page were pictures of Sue when she was a baby. Even then, the woman had had pale blonde hair.
Images passed, photos of Sue as she grew. Of her parents. Doting mother, loving father. Soon enough, another baby joined the pictures. Johnny, obviously. Even then, he'd had that cocky grin of his. How an angelic looking little baby could wear that grin was beyond her. But Haley was right. Dare could see Spencer in the face captured long ago by happy parents.
Haley flipped pages, only occasionally saying something about them now. But one caught Dare's attention and she put her finger on it. "This one, Haley. When was this one taken?" Dare stared at the image in the photograph and thought she was losing her mind.
Haley glanced at it and frowned. "This is Johnny when he was about six. Someone took it during his mom's funeral. He was such a mess that day. And his dad was no help. He was having a hard time with his wife's death so he was..."
"Drunk. And Sue was playing the grown up. No one had time for Johnny." Dare finished. Haley was staring at her as if she couldn't understand what was going on. Dare didn't really know, either. All she knew was that Johnny had needed a shoulder that day and she'd loaned him hers. "I told him she was an angel," she whispered and traced a finger across the surface of the picture. A picture that showed a sad little boy in a black coat and pants, in a light blue shirt with a darker blue bow tie, as he laid a single white rose on a gleaming coffin.
Haley's hand reached out to cover hers. "Dare? Are you okay? You've gone pale. Should I call Logan?"
"No. I'm fine. Instead, let me tell you a story. About a crabby bitch woman and a guy with horns on his head and four little boys who desperately needed someone to give them a hug."
"Dare?" Haley asked.
"I was there that day, Haley. I gave Johnny a hug on the worst day of his life. And I told him that his mom would always be with him. That she was an angel and she'd always look after him. Holy crap, I wasn't hallucinating. I was really there."
Haley said nothing. Probably she was as shocked as Dare was. That wasn't something she'd expected at all. That it was real. And crap. That meant that Horny Guy was real, too. And he'd told her he'd be watching over her.
A particularly bright shaft of sunlight poured through the window and drew Dare's gaze toward the New York City skyline. There, in the middle of the light, she saw the reflection of a tallish man in green and gold on the glass. A pair of horns topped his head and a knowing smile curved up his lips. She could only stare. Fucking hell! She had to be seeing things.
The figure smirked, then winked, then he was gone.