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Clann; Banshee
Topic Started: Oct 19 2011, 09:46 PM (398 Views)
Siryn
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Sonokinesis/Flight/Vocal Hypnotism
Date: September 20th, following Terry’s appearance in Crimes Against Humanity
Time: 4.30pm




Taking a long drag on the cigarette she held in one hand, Theresa shoved the coffee cup around on the park table surface distractedly and burrowed down in her coat. It wasn’t particularly cold out, not yet, but she was hiding more than anything else. Sighing, she flicked the ash that was accumulating on the end of the cigarette and took a sip of the cold coffee. Lord, she had royally messed up. It had been a very long time since she had smoked, before she had ended up at Xavier’s, but…Her replacement phone lay beside the cup and the redhead dragged it closer and inspected the screen for a text or call…Nothing. But that was good as it meant no one was looking for her and also that he wasn’t late.

After she had gotten out of court, the girl had slipped off and wandered aimlessly instead of doing what she probably should have done and returning to the apartment complex where they were all dossing like high grade hobos. Before long, Terry realised what she needed to do and had called Banshee. She hadn’t gone into great detail, instead just asking to meet and talk as what she had to talk about was not best done over a phone after all. It was probably not the best topic of conversation for the park either, but for her sanity, it was currently the best place. Afterwards, Terry felt she would be more inclined to return to the apartments.

She had called Tom ‘Father’. It had been a slip, a total mistake in the middle of her cross examination when she had gone and lost her temper like a stupid idiot and while it didn’t mean anything, as in Tom wasn’t her father, she had accepted that Sean was, the thought was still clawing at her and she felt deeply guilty. Siryn needed to talk to Sean about it…not quite apologise, but she felt the need to share and explain if nothing else and if not for his sake then hers. Tom had never been a comfortable topic of conversation for either of them, but it was time that he was a topic, comfortable or otherwise.

Mashing the butt of the cigarette out on the concrete beneath the table, Theresa dug in her packet for another one and lit it, even though she knew Sean was due to arrive any minute. He might well disapprove, but she had hidden enough of what she was from him over the course of their relationship being built up. She had been evasive and sketchy on so much and Terry wasn’t sure she could keep it up any longer.
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Sean Cassidy
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AT&T, three bar signal. Nothing else. Not a single word had come through since his meeting with Maria Hill. Sean breathed a sigh of relief and continued on his way to Central Park; SHIELD had always given him the 'willies' (as they said in the west of Ireland), so it was natural that he would be on edge to some degree. The job offer had surprised him, frankly, and some slight anxiety was beginning to kick in as to whether they had been merely trying to throw him off their scent and secretly hoping that he would turn it out. This made the decision-making process all the more difficult, as Banshee couldn't possibly begin to weigh up the pros and cons of it yet, not when his daughter was in such dire need. He'd been at the hearing, of course. He'd made sure to be present for Terry's sake; it was his job, as her dad, but also a privilege. She needed to know that whatever happened, he would be there if and when she needed him.

So naturally, he had made straight for the Park after his meeting with Hill and Bishop, sensing a certain need - however calm she sounded - in his daughter's voice. Whatever it was, he was more than happy to oblige. Entering through the Vanderbilt Gates, we walked for a few minutes before finding the park table she had described in her call. It didn't truly surprise Sean to see Terry digging a cigarette out and lighting it as he approached. Children always thought their parents were ignorant of their habits, but there was an intuition there in fathers and mothers that often went unappreciated - not to mention a basic common sense. And even within a strained or unusual relationship like Sean and Terry's, the parent knew a lot more about what was going on than his child believed. He sat don't quietly without a word, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his new grey duffel coat. Autumn was rolling in, and Sean was from the generation of Irishmen that complained even more than their better halves about even the slightest change in the weather.

The coat was a new purchase, and in some ways had proven rather therapeutic: of all the things lost in the ashes of Xavier's School, Sean's wardrobe had been the least-mourned and most in need of burial. The other thing lost in the rubble that had since seen an overhaul, of course, was Xavier's dream - the notion of humans and mutants living in a safe and healthy worth without suspicion and animosity. That was gone forever, from what Sean could see - and with it died much of his idealism about 'the way forward', pacifism, integration etc. In some ways, as a father who felt he had gained wisdom rather than lost a dream, he had a felt need to communicate all of this to his daughter - the changes within him, the opportunities it had (already) presented for the future: a chance to start over, to do something meaningful, and to help to change from the inside out a system that was dysfunctional and unhelpful with the aid of his good friend Lucas. But given everything she had been through, and her apparent need to talk out some of what she was experiencing or feeling at that moment in time made Sean pull the breaks on. Her concerns came first. That's what being a parent was all about, he was quickly learning.

"So. What's up, kiddo? Apart from the smokes, which yer mother would murder ye for if she were alive today... God rest her soul. No, really, I'm not even kiddin', she'd probably have said somethin' like 'Well there are quicker ways to die if ye really wanna go'. She'd not have forgiven ye quickly, anyway," Sean said, and despite the morbid tone, he was smiling. He knew Maeve was a distant memory for Theresa, but he couldn't help seeing their shared likeness every time he looked at his daughter; and right now, he was just happy that she was still around, even if Maeve wasn't. "But enough o' that... just don't blow it in my face is all, then we can still chat." He smiled again and grow more pensive, more serious, more the concerned parent: "Sorry about the questioning, love. That woman really set out to do a number on ye... But ye did the best ye could. Alex can't have asked for more. Nobody could. I'm proud that ye stood up and faced those things. Even in the little time I've known ye, there's been... well, lots of growth. Meanwhile, I'm just gettin' ancient," he said, pointing to a stray grey hair in his fringe. "This is just the beginning."
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Siryn
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Sonokinesis/Flight/Vocal Hypnotism
Terry’s hand hesitated for a moment, about halfway between the table and her face, cigarette dangling idly as she processed Banshee’s greeting, then frowned a little at the comment about her mother. For all she knew that could have been him just excusing the fact he didn’t like her smoking as the girl hadn’t a clue one way or the other what Maeve would have made of it (although somehow Terry felt that she probably wouldn’t have liked it). Keeping her head high she slowly flicked a little ash off from the end of the smoke and as he continued, she swung one of her legs over the seat so that she was straddling it sideways, took a drag and exhaled away from him before looking back and shrugging lethargically.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said simply and took another quick drag. “I never did it around Tom, he’d have skinned me. Ain’t much of a habit either, just sometimes…” Terry said in a tone that stated she was not making excuses for herself. She was eighteen and technically an adult in some respects, even though the girl did understand that age did not equal maturity.

Shrugging again as he apologised for that bitch of a prosecution attorney, she looked down at the lacklustre grass that surrounded the concrete slabs that the tables were arranged on. Looking back up as he called himself ancient, it gave her a horribly unsettled feeling in her stomach. It unnerved her to think of him growing old before she had gotten to properly know him, more than she liked to admit and it made her feel worse for what she wanted to talk about.

“Thanks fer watchin…” she said and then swallowed. “I’m sorry. Fer callin Tom what I did. Just sort’ve slipped out.”

Looking away, Siryn took a deep drag on the cigarette and blew out the smoke, then picked up her coffee cup and drained it. “But that’s what I wanted ter talk to yer about. If yer didn’t mind that is. Cause I left the court and I was thinkin about what I’d gone and said and I realised that we’ve never really spoken about him before and mebbe that’s my own fault as I knew yer don’t think much o’ him, and I don’t hold him high anymore, but I’m sorry; he was me Dad for most o’ me life and he brought me up and despite what yer think he can’t have completely fucked it up, cause I’m here, aren’t I?” Turning back to look at him, Terry tilted her head to one side and set him with a serious look, a note of apology in her eyes. Naturally there was a lot of awkward topics of conversation between them what with everything that had happened, but they had to be faced sooner or later.
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Sean Cassidy
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Tom would have skinned her. Sean almost emitted a chuckle at that. She knew better, of course, but Sean couldn't truly imagine 'Black' Tom taking exception to anybody's bad habits, given his own problems with gambling; not to mention his penchant for thievery. But then, he vividly remembered being berated by Tom in front of his uncle and aunt as a teen for getting drunk at a trad ceol session at the local bar... but that had been Tom's malice at play: just to turn the screw and try to prove that he was the superior Cassidy. As he did so often, to anyone who would listen. "But, of course you wouldn't know. I wish you could have. I'd give anything to make that possible." His voice grew quieter with every word of that sentence, and he almost wished he hadn't said it afterwards. A man couldn't wish for those kinds of things, it simply wasn't pragmatic. He raised the corners of his mouth in a trademark ear-to-ear smile and nodded as she moved on.

He shook his head as he apologized; he wouldn't tell her that it had stung just a little to hear her say it, or that his father's pride kept him from ever expressing the fact that Tom had, in the end, achieved what he had always set out to: to turn the tables and make Sean jealous of him. This moment, more than any other, seemed to exemplify that. He listened to Terry's words and his eyes wandered to the table just slightly, as she made excuses for her cousin's actions during his time as her unauthorized and - as far as Sean was concerned - undeserving 'guardian'.

"Well... I s'pose ye're old enough now t'hear this. I been wonderin' ever since ye came on the scene... since ye came into my life, I mean... whether I should say somethin' or not. Before, I thought... I dunno. I thought maybe ye'd think I was just tryin' to turn ye against him, or win ye over or something. But I just think now ye're old enough to... well, to understand fully the complexities of why I was never around. I didn't wanna make up excuses before. Terry, the reason I left Ireland eighteen years ago was that I'd found out that Tom was carryin' on with my wife..." The Irish colloquial euphemism didn't sound quite right in such a personal context, and made him cringe. Confessing this to her had already made him turn his eyes away from her in shame.

"Of course, she was carryin' you at the time, but I had no idea. I like to think neither did she, until after I'd left, but... I'll never know. Nor did I ever truly know her reasons for doin' that to me, to us... Tom's another story. He was always... angry at the world, or somethin'. Always acted like it owed him. An' he was jealous of me and Maeve. Right from the start. I just... I guess I always thought that because he was family, he'd never do somethin' like that, to me... and that yer mother... and the vows we took, an' all the rest of it... I guess that's just so much nonsense when it boils down to it." He looked back up at Terry, a vaguely pained expression across his features at first until he disciplined himself and realised that now was one of those times that he had to be strong, and show Terry that he wasn't just a father by default, but by choice. "I guess what I'm tryin' to say is... Tom's not the devil. But he took from me and kept from me the two things that have been closest to my heart in all my years on this earth - first yer mother, and then you. I forgave Maeve for her mistakes a long time ago. But... I hope ye know why I can't forgive Tom."

He looked downwards again, burying his strong chin beneath the collar of his coat, as if the air had suddenly turned a lot colder. His four-day-old stubble was still sharp enough to catch on the zip and cause him a moment's grief, but he pulled away again when the words he was looking for finally came to mind: "I guess, in all honesty, if it hadn't been for hiding my daughter away, I'd have been able to forgive him for the rest..." He leaned forward on the table then so that he could reach his hand across and place it atop of hers, casually pushing the coffee cup away. "I know this is an odd thing for you to hear; trust me, it's strange to say it, as someone who ran around the world chasing international criminals for years just to constantly be far from any kind of attachment or meaningful relationship..." Sean took a long intake of breath before continuing: "But ye're the most important thing in the world to me. Ye're my daughter. An' whatever ye now feel about Tom, whether it's bitterness or fondness or somewhere in the middle, in the gray - nothin' will change that fact, to my mind. I don't care about any of what's gone before. It would be pointless to dwell. All I want is for ye to know that I'm here."
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Siryn
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Sonokinesis/Flight/Vocal Hypnotism
“I know,” Terry responded awkwardly and chewed her lip. “I wasn’t sayin that ter make yer feel bad. Just…Tom never spoke much about her an’ I know why now but back then…It was lonely. The Keep ain’t a bad place but it ain’t like there’re neighbours,” she scratched at a splinter of wood jutting up from the surface of the table and then flicked it away. It was true that Tom would have come down hard on her if he’d come across her with a cigarette. Heck, he’d been incensed when he found the brandy that time…’Do as I say, not as I do’. Just because he had a heart as black as tar hadn’t meant that he’d not taken a strict stance with her and for some reason, she really wanted Sean to know that, no matter what else he thought of his cousin.

The subject of conversation seemed to go down better than she had hoped for; at least it seemed to start that way. What she had been expecting was for her father to voice his general dislike and then she would offer him the chance to ask what he wanted to know when it came to her early life as he was bound to have curiosities…However, he seemed to have a very solid idea of what he wanted to talk about and Terry froze on the bench as she listened, a frown growing then deepening on her freckled face.

Siryn’s stomach curled into a knot and after a long silence for her she blindly pushed up from her seat and walked away from the table without saying a word, clinging to her coffee cup. The redhead got about ten paces before she looked down at the cup in her hand and flung it away with a loud curse. Running her hand through her hair, the teenager stood in silence and shakily puffed on her cigarette before throwing the rest of it away.

Turning around slowly, she stared at Sean with a dumbstruck expression on her face. “Y’just…Just…” Gulping down air, Terry turned her back on him again and tried to keep from exploding. Her reasonable side knew that she had pretty much asked for this, but her irate, hurt side was furious that he was telling her now after everything that had happened that day. What little she knew about her mother had now been tossed around and rebranded with the fact she had gone with Tom behind Sean’s back. Hell, what if….Her face went white and her eyes squeezed shut as she balled her fist and bit down on it to stop herself from screaming.

Terry didn’t know how to take it all in. Tom had never really spoken about Maeve so the girl had always held a perfect picture in her head that she had painted from what she knew and the few photographs that she’d gathered from around the Keep. To learn this…It was a heavy blow. Taking a series of steady breaths, she stared down at the ground, her red hair obscuring her face. No one ever wanted to hear a thing like that about their mother, or their father, even if he had been a great big, stinking fake.

“Is that it?” she asked unsteadily after more silence.
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Sean Cassidy
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Roots could take hold even in the most hostile conditions. Sean stared at the sporadic shoots of grass sprouting between the seams in the concrete of Central Park as his daughter paced away from him, cursing and launching her coffee into the greenery. "Aye... yes. That's it, Terry, that's all of it, that's all there is. I don't know if they stayed together or not after I left, until she... until the bomb; and I don't care to know." He knew without looking, as she returned to face the music and ask him if that as all, that she was angry; and somehow, though the iniquity had not been his, it was almost as if... almost as if she blamed him somehow. When he raised his eyes to hers, they were bloodshot; crimson from the strain of still holding back nineteen years of pain over the truth he had just revealed to the daughter he never knew existed. "Terry, please..."

It was all he could manage. He stopped before his voice cracked and he made her even more upset. Composing himself, he sat bolt upright. "Your mother was a fine woman. I was working long days and though we both knew she wanted kids, I wasn't ready to give that to her... I wanted to make sure... I wanted... For us to be ready for a family. I'm not making excuses for her, but it wasn't characteristic of her. She could've had anyone in Castlebar but she chose me. I guess somewhere along the way she realised she'd made a mistake, or something... I don't know Terry. I really don't. But she didn't mean to hurt me. I know that now - something I didn't know back then. I was a young man with no time to process it and even less common sense. If I had known about ye, Terry, that would've changed everything. Everything."

"Look... Ye're grown up now, I know. But I'm still your dad. And there are things about our past that will always be between us, unless we move on. I'm finally ready to put Maeve and Tom behind me, after all these years. And I'm sorry ye had to hear this now, but I... It wasn't right for ye not to know. And it stings a bit now, but... understand her reasons. Like I do. And ye'll make peace with it. And before ye know, there'll be somethin' new to be mad at me for," Sean concluded prophetically. He attempted a smile; it wasn't happening, so he gave up. The long silence between them was instructive enough. He stood up and dug his chin down behind the collar of his coat again; but not before offering her a nod, and his parting words: "You know where I'm at. I know ye prefer bein' around what's left o' yer peers for the moment on Worthington's property... but if ye wanna chat about this again, when the dust has settled... or ye just wanna spend some time with yer poor excuse for a dad... call by."
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Siryn
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Sonokinesis/Flight/Vocal Hypnotism
Deep down, Terry couldn’t fault Banshee for telling her, as after all she had left herself open to the worst. It was just that the redhead had not been expecting it to be so bad. She’d wanted to tell her father that she hadn’t had it all so bad, that she had reasons behind the horrible slipup she had made in court…But this? She had barely had the chance to talk before learning the horrible truth. Her hands and legs were shaking badly, but she didn’t cry. There had been enough tears without adding any more to the world and besides, Terry wasn’t even sure if she was capable of crying at the moment. She was numb.

Turning so she wasn’t quite facing him, but not quite with her back to him, Terry listened to her father. It was more than Tom had ever really said about Maeve in one go, aside from maybe when he was a touch drunk, but as Terry had gotten older, she had figured it was to do with him having never really gotten over Maeve or the like. Of course, everything made a lot more sense in retrospect.

Terry was angry, but she couldn’t be angry at her father, not entirely, even if he was shouldering at least part of the responsibility of what had happened all those years ago. But still, it was her life. This had all happened before she had even been born and while it had affected the whole course of her life so far, what she had learnt threatened to tip the balance. Swallowing, she hugged herself a little tighter and rolled her shoulders.

“I understand,” she said gruffly as he apologised, explaining his reasoning for telling her. There was a lot that she wanted to tell him, to explain herself but now it just didn’t feel like she could even find those words and let it out, without shrugging aside what he had told her and there was no way she could do that, not immediately. A dark thought about what had been explained surfaced and shuddering, Terry pushed it out of her mind. No, no she couldn’t even think like that.

“It’s…not that I prefer bein there but after…I don’t like bein…” grimacing, Siryn tried and failed to articulate the reason she mostly stayed inside the complex. It was a safe haven in the midst of everything that was going wrong with the world, yet the school had been a haven as well…

“I will. Call by,” Terry said, quickly emphasising what she was agreeing to. “Before we all leave anyway. I dunno how often we’ll all get ter come back y’see…” shifting so that she was facing her father, the redhead set him with a look. “So what’re yer gonna be doin instead?” Siryn asked quickly, needing to know before they parted ways. If he was moving away from the city after this, it could make things harder.
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Sean Cassidy
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She didn't say much; she didn't have to. Sean couldn't pretend that he had experienced anything growing up like what his daughter had gone through in her formative years, but he did know something of what she was experiencing now: her emotions were presently much too raw to give way to his honesty and frank reasoning. He just nodded as she claimed to understand, but there was a world of difference - Sean knew - between understanding and accepting. This was borne out in her tone. He knew it would be a long time before her daughter truly accepted who she was, and what had happened in her past, and how - in many ways - she seemed like an incidental chess piece (a horrible thought) that was pushed around according to the caprice of others... or perhaps it was fate. Yes, fate; the 'Black' king had taken Sean's spotless wife, which meant checkmate for him. And Theresa? She now had to relive and experience what she wasn't old enough to see unfolding before her eyes: the cruel consequences of other people's actions. She was bitter about it now, and Sean didn't blame her. It was, after all, a sensation that he would remember forever.

He nodded at her half-attempt to explain. Terry, like most of the survivors of the Sept 1st attack, was all at sea: that fact was only exacerbated now that she had heard this crushing revelation about her mother. Stupid, Sean. He felt guilty for being the bearer of this news, but he tried not to show it. No point playing the flawed, imperfect father forever: even though he knew he might have conducted himself better, it would gain him nought to keep admitting it. At some point, he had to give himself a break and admit that he was never going to be perfect at this... and it was all still very new to him. "I get it. I didn't mean to... eh, I dunno... make you feel like I minded. I want ye to be where ye want to be. Where ye feel safe. It matters nothin' if that's not where I am. As ye'll know by now I have my own reasons for not bein' there also." Apart from anything else, he was an adult - but it also had a lot to do with what he was planning to do with his future. His eyes briefly flickered away from her as she inquired regarding that very subject.

As they returned, they carried something of their old note of hope. He wasn't quite the 'glass half full' person he used to be: that much had finally been beaten out of him. But he could at least feign positivity for his daughter's sake. "I... don't know yet," he replied, truthfully. "I've had an offer from someone, but it's just that... an offer. It came out of the blue, earlier today, and I'll need time to digest it." He was clearly being genuine, in that he never liked making split-second decisions about things that were important, but part of him was clearly being diplomatic also. He was all too aware of how his daughter felt about her treatment at the hands of SHIELD, but that had been in times past. A lot had changed since then, and what he had heard that morning had given him reason to hope that his new ideas and his new ethos would be matched by an organization with the resources and vision to really make a difference, unlike the X-Men. He, too, had changed: he had considered Xavier's his home, once. But now the place lay desolate, and the diminished group that had survived to shake off its ashes were little more than the vestiges of a dead dream.
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Siryn
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“I know,” she swallowed, shrugging as her father explained he hadn’t meant it. Of course she knew it, deep down. Terry knew that he didn’t mean a lot of things, if anything that had happened since they had met properly. It had just been hard to adapt to the massive change, even though she had found out about him a long time before they had actually met. Sometimes in the beginning, she thought it was just a lie that Tom was throwing her as a strange way of making her feel better about the fact he’d turned into a tree, as if ‘hey, you’re not actually my daughter so you’re not so obliged to stick around and suffer through all this…’

Terry didn’t know. Blinking quickly, she lowered her head and burrowed her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. This was not the talk that she had wanted, but she had still learnt something even if she couldn’t stomach it. Suddenly, Siryn had not felt as alone as she had since that first day she had been left in the care of the Xavier Institute. There had been plenty of other occasions in her young life that she had felt the bite of loneliness, but that day…Everything had crashed apart.

She had pulled things back together though when she could easily have stayed down in the bottom like some people chose to, but now she was once again unsure of where she stood. Banshee spoke of the offer and the girl made a slight face at the fact he wasn’t letting on what it was. Either he didn’t want to go and jinx himself by telling her the details, or he just was keeping it from her for whatever reason. Maybe it meant he would have to move away…Whatever it was, if there was one thing that the clann Cassidy should know, then that was that keeping secrets was never a good thing.

“Well let me know, aye? I’ll be at Angel’s if yer need me. Let me know how the job turns out?” she asked, trying to keep things from being any harder than they had to be, even though her words were awkward and a little forced. But she had to try, she really had to; the attack on the school had taught her that. So many of her friends and classmates had died without being able to say the important things they needed to, to the people in their lives or reconcile with their families who might have cast them off or that they had run away from. You never knew what was going to happen next.
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Sean Cassidy
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A young mother walked by and distracted them both, helping to ease the discomfort of one of the more awkward silences between words. Sean frowned slightly as the pain of missing out on raising Theresa threatened to rear its ugly head again; but he forced it down. He was determined to get past that now. Determined to get past the burden of regrets. Some things, you just can't change. He nodded then, his only other means of communicating to his daughter that it was okay for her to be confused, to be upset. He understood her anger, her disappointment. It was a diluted version of the sheer anguish he had felt when he caught Maeve and Tom in the act - a factor that Sean understandably left out of his account of events to Theresa. The present exercise of disclosure had been motivated primarily by the decision on his part that there were some things that his daughter needed to know if their relationship was to develop properly - but that fact was clearly not one of those things.

He nodded as Theresa stood up to leave and pursed his lips, producing as neutral and benevolent an expression as he could muster. He was the type to either smile or brood, but rarely anything between; a man of extremes, in this at least. That said, he hadn't been doing much of the former recently; so his present effort seemed more or less as close to a smile as he was bound to attempt, given the circumstances of the past few weeks. "I will, of course, let ye know. We'll talk when I've made my decision. I'll not make it lightly," he said, hoping to reassure her, thought she knew not the gravity of the offer on his table. He stood also and put his hands in his pockets, walking with her as they exited the park. He had to speak to his solicitor; whatever decision he made, now was the time to make changes to his will. He hadn't done it since finding out about Theresa, simply because it had been the furthest thing from his mind. But it was important for her now to be brought into the picture and inherit everything of his. There was, after all, nobody else.

"Take care out there," he said, giving her the lightest of digs - a tap really - on the arm, with a smile. "Seriously though. I know ye're with pals, and it's not that I don't trust Scott, it's just... well, y'know. Wherever ye end up... ye may be maturing now at a rapid enough pace, but ye'll always be my daughter. Nothing will change that." That plain fact - which he had gone for so long without knowing - was an empirical truth. It was all he was sure of anymore, besides death and taxes. It was something that, alone, was worth living for. It was worth giving up comfort and pride for. It was enough to want to change things for the better, even if it meant sacrificing his daughter's new-found respect or love for an indefinite period.

It was worth doing the dirty work that no other mutant wanted.
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