Laura is not Daken’s mother. She’s not his mother in the same way she isn’t Gabby’s mother, or Bellona’s or Zelda’s mother for that matter. No, Laura isn’t Daken’s mother because Daken already had one. That’s what he told Gambit some years back, and then he said not to mention her anymore. And she hasn’t. Gambit dropped it, Laura never said anything else, and neither did he. Daken. Not since then, not even after all the time that’s passed. Not even after how close they’ve become.
Laura is not Daken’s mother, so that’s not what she’s trying to do, who she’s trying to be, when she walks to where he is in his bedroom. He’s sitting on a sofa that’s slightly gray in color and it’s fabric is soft. It’s just the sort of piece you’d expect to find in a room like his, something tasteful and expensive. He sits on this sofa and he’s leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded together in the middle. His head hangs and his eyes, if they aren’t closed, are looking at the carpet beneath him. Laura walks over there, and she does a thing that her mother used to do, but that’s not what she’s doing to him.
The thing that Laura does is she opens her arms and holds his head against her. He’s still sitting and she’s standing there in front of him, so his head rests against her chest and she’s sure to pull him to the side where her heart beats. She holds him with her slender arms wrapped loosely around his head, his neck, and she makes light strokes on his hair with one of her hands. She combs her spiderlike fingers through the thick, dark strands and she leans her face down so her chin rests on top of his head.
“It’s okay,” she tells him, and she keeps her tone soft. She makes her voice just a step above a whisper. And Daken, he responds to this by lifting his arms from his knees and wrapping them around her. He brings her body closer to his by tightening his arms, she feels his muscles tense, and he turns his face so it’s halfway buried into her shirt and her hair.
They stay like this for several minutes and Laura doesn’t dare to move, not in a way that isn’t comforting to him. Not in a way that doen’t invite him to take the time he needs here. She stands there with him held against her in her arms and her held against him in his arms, and neither one moves for a short period of time. She can feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath and she can feel that his jaw is clenched. His eyes are closed tight and his nose is crinkled slightly at the strain it takes for him to stay composed.
She tells him again, “It’s okay,” and he sighs softly. He drops his arms from around her hips and then it’s just her holding him. Her fingers make lines where she strokes his hair, where her fingernails lightly graze his scalp, and she does this motion a couple times before she lowers her hands to his shoulders. When she does, he let’s himself fall back against the sofa.
“I just thought it would get better,” he says. Laura let’s her hands drop to her sides. “I thought being a super hero meant shit like this wouldn’t happen anymore.” As he talks, he brings his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Laura says, and she turns and heads to another part of his room. “I wish I was there to help you when you were in trouble.”
She walks to his bed and takes the pillows that sit haphazardly on his mattress, setting them on the floor. She starts by shaking the wrinkles out of his comforter before she begins tugging it’s edges, working her way around the bed. She isn’t his mother, but she is his sister, and he’s leaving on a mission soon and someone needs to straighten this place up for him so he can have somewhere relaxing to come back home to.
“You would have though,” he tells her. He’s still leaned back on the couch, looking at the ceiling. He turns his head when he says, “I know you would have helped. You always do.” He looks above him again and shuts his eyes. “It’s the one thing I can count on.”
Laura smiles to herself, a feeling of warmth coming over her at his acknowledgement of her efforts. Daken doesn’t need a mother, not one to replace the one he had, but he needs someone to do things like this for him. She retrieves the pillows and fluffs each one before she sets them back on the bed, staying careful to make sure they are perfectly aligned in the same way she knows he would have them if he was in better spirits.
“You can always count on me.”
Daken stands up from the sofa, and he seems to be more relaxed. “I know I can,” he says. It took around an hour for this to happen, for him to look relaxed and for him to talk. When she first arrived, he would hardly even speak.
“He’s still shaken up,” Aurora had softly explained as she led Laura to his room. “Brimstone really did a number on him. Physically he’s fine, but it’s more the mental toll it took. Carl says he thinks the dreams just make it worse. It fuels the anger.”
Laura tried not to express her distaste of the situation. They knew so little of her brother, or they only knew the version of him he had built for them, and she had to refrain from asking for a pen and some paper so she could write a rough guide on how to properly care for him. To start with, she wouldn’t give him the chance to relive his most recent nightmare with the hopes of turning it into a sweet dream. And she also wouldn’t let him barricade himself away.
Aurora knocked softly on his door and said, “Aki?” in a gentle tone.
Laura, however, reached for the handle herself and stepped around the older woman as she pushed her way inside.
“Daken,” she said, and she walked to his bed where he was still laying. It was past noon when she arrived and it was very unlike him to not be up and around by this point. “I’m here now,” she said, and she sat on the mattress. She reached out a hand and touched his shoulder.
She could sense the hesitance from Aurora and a part of her felt a little guilty for taking control, but then Daken rolled over and looked at her. Despite having a capable healing factor, his blue eyes looked a little sunken in and a little exhausted. His mouth was set in a pout and his scent was laced with a sort of depression. A sort of hurt that compelled Laura to reach out again, and this time she touched the side of his face. His beard was fuller from him not shaving for several days and his hair was slicked with oil from not washing it. She knew the drill, about her definitely not being his mother, but her instinct still took over.
She stood from his bed and walked over to his dresser. Aurora watched from the doorway and she could feel Daken watch her too. She grabbed the first things her hands touched and walked back to the bed, setting down the clothes she picked. “Go,” she said, and even though she was sympathetic, she forced an edge so he knew she was serious. She turned to Aurora. “He needs a shower,” she said. “Take him.”
Seeing the way Aurora touched his arm lightly as she guided him down the hall made Laura feel almost sorry for her. Generally speaking, Aurora seemed to have a sweet enough disposition and there was no question in regards to her loyalty to Daken, but she seemed intimidated, in over her head. She almost seemed nervous to push him in any direction, to guide him. Laura picked up the trashcan from beside his desk and made her way around his room, picking up empty cups and wrappers. At least they made sure he was eating.
She went to the kitchen to grab a fresh bag and passed Jean-Paul on her way back to the stairs.
“You must have the special touch,” he said, offering a smile. “He’s got a hard shell to crack.”
But Laura didn’t smile back. “He doesn’t,” she told him. “He’s just like you and me.”
She returned to his room and continued to tidy up. It didn’t take a lot, even at his worst Daken could never be an entire slob, but it was still difficult to see how much he had regressed in such a short time. She was putting away the last of his laundry when he came back in the room with a warm cloud of natural scented soap following him in.
Now, when she feels his comforter is as straight and smooth as she can get it, she joins Daken in front his closet. “You’re the only one I can always count on,” he says, and she smiles. He pulls out a duffel bag and hands it to her, as if he knew she’d ask for it if he didn’t. She sets it on his desk chair and joins him again, looking through the uniforms he has hanging and helping him collect them.
Once they have all the necessities, Laura takes them to the desk and begins folding them. She’s not his mother, but she knows how to fold clothes, and she knows he’d be disappointed if they were just stuffed into the bag to be wrinkled when he needs them. She also knows he’s not in a state of mind to do it himself, and now she knows that no one here is brave enough to take the reigns in the same way she is.
Most people are intimidated by Daken and they treat him like a ticking bomb, but Laura isn’t worried and she doesn’t mind guiding him however roughly she needs to. She folds his clothes and puts them in his bag and the last thing she would call him is intimidating because he’s sitting on the sofa again, turned sideways to look out the window. The rest of his team, they’d probably expect a burst of rage if they offered their help. They probably think he’d growl at them to back off if they suggested he needed a helping hand. And he may, but only in the same way a child would. Laura, though she isn’t anyone’s mother, knows that Daken, someone else’s son, is really just misunderstood and he has a hard time reaching out his hand when he needs someone to take it.
She zips up his bag and sets it beside his doorway, and then she pushes the chair back up to the desk. When she turns around, the room she sees is a lot different than the one she walked into. And it didn’t take much. He isn’t hard to take care of, despite what most may think. Not physically, nor emotionally. On the sofa, he seems more relaxed and his eyes look brighter. He hardly seems like a mean killer and he definitely isn’t an abrasive bully. He’s just tired, she observes, and hurting.
She walks across the room and sits next to him on the couch. He moves his legs around, plants his feet on the ground, and hunkers over like he had before. His thumbs work circles around each other.
“Thank you, Laura,” he says, and there’s a tenderness to his voice. She knows he’s talking about more than just her physically being here.
She leans her head over against his shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me,” she says, and she wraps her arms around the one of his that’s closest to her. His only response is leaning his face against the top of her hair.
A knock on the door makes Laura look up with her eyes, but she doesn’t move away. “Sorry to interrupt,” Aurora says, and she smiles at the two of them. “I hate to break this up, because you seem to be enjoying each other’s company, but we should start loading are things up on the ship for tomorrow.”
Daken sighs, but she feels him sit up and so Laura does too. “I suppose you’re right,” he says, and he looks at Laura with uneasiness.
In return, she smiles gently. “Please call me if you need to,” she tells him. “I will never be too busy to answer.”
Laura heads for the door, grabbing his packed bag on the way out. She leaves it to Aurora to walk with him.
Down at the lobby, Polaris waits for her by the front desk. To Jean-Paul she’s saying, “I don’t have a preference personally, I love them equally, but I’m going to have to leave here with a Wolverine in a few minutes.” She smiles when she sees Laura. “There you are. Did you get him taken care of?”
She looks back over her shoulder, watching as he walks with Aurora down the last several steps. “I think so,” she says, and she hands his bag over to Carl, who starts to head outside. “He’ll be okay.”
Lorna smiles and steps forward, joining her. “He always is,” she says. “I’ve seen him in worse shape than this before.” And he’ll be in worse shape soon enough, Laura knows that much. She frowns as she watches how he changes when Aurora leaves his side to say goodbye to Jean-Paul. He radiates confidence most of the time, but he slips his hands into his pockets as if he isn’t sure of himself anymore. Lorna puts a hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward. She says, “Go on. We have time.”
Daken’s face breaks into a smile, no matter how subtle, when he sees her approaching him. He pulls his shoulders back and lifts his chin. It’s a talent how quick he is to mask himself. It’s as if he expects her to forget so soon the shape he was in only an hour before.
Laura reaches out and brings her arms around his middle, and he’s quicker to reciprocate this time. She feels his grip around her shoulders, feels his muscles tense as he squeezes her gently.
“Tell me when you’re back,” she says. “I will come see you again. And I’ll bring Gabby too. Or you can come see us.”
He chuckles and ruffles her hair as she pulls away. “Will do,” he says.
He’s dropped his arms, but Laura holds on for a moment longer. “Also, I… we, I mean, Gabby and I, we… we love you.”
He may not say it back, but his smile broadens and this time it looks genuine. He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll call,” he says. “And I’ll tell you when I’m back.”
Laura smiles before she turns to follow Polaris outside. She sees them packing the ship, hears their conversations, she can smell their adrenaline in anticipation of what’s to come.
“Bye!” Kitty calls, and she waves her hand enthusiastically. “We’ll take care of him, so try not to worry!”
She can try, but it’s a feeling that can’t be helped. She may not be his mother, but that doesn’t mean she won’t stay up late tonight hoping that he’s sleeping well. That doesn’t mean she won’t skip half her meals tomorrow wondering if he’s managing okay. That doesn’t mean she won’t be clutching her phone in her hand everywhere she goes, checking the screen at every vibration for a text saying that he’s okay.
Her and Polaris walk until they reach the gate, the one that’ll take them back to The Treehouse. And just before she steps through, before she leaves Daken entirely to his own devices, she feels her pocket vibrate. The message on her phone makes her smile.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he wrote. And then, below that, ‘I love you too.’