I Will Follow You Into the Dark

Jean-Paul looked up from his intense scrutiny of Joanne, half a smile on his face. "Oui--Lulu. Who is that?"

And why did he have points on his ears?

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"This is Jean-Luc. He just came in through the balcony door." She grinned. "Which makes sense of our son, no?"

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The smile fell off Jean-Paul's face. "That is not even possible."

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"My you says I was caused by sex pollen and he'll tell me what that means when I'm older," Jean-Luc explained helpfully.

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Lulu couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well," she said, "that does explain some things." She gave Jean-Paul a vaguely incredulous look, but went on with it. "So, Jean-Luc, would you like some breakfast? I can get you some Cheerios, if you'd like, just like Joanne has, or I've got some eggs poaching for Eggs Benedict." She directed that last at Jean-Paul, as well, just in case he'd like some.

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Food, yes. He should probably eat some of that. "I would love some Eggs Benedict. What about you...Jean-Luc?" This was never going to not be weird.

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"I'd like Eggs Benedict, too, please," Jean-Luc said politely, casting a look at Joanne. "Since when do I have a sister?"

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Glancing at Jean-Paul to let him field the question, Lulu moved to throw a couple more eggs in the pan, and to start frying a few more slices of ham. She just hoped that she had enough Hollandaise.

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"She is, uh." Jean-Paul hesitated. "She is visiting. From another world. Just as you are." That should suffice, right? "Did I ever tell you about Joanne?"

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"Oh," Jean-Luc said quietly. "Yes. A little." He turned to his mother and said, "I don't like the sauce from Holland."

...what?

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"Hard or soft yolk?" Lulu asked Jean-Luc, even as she deftly layered the egg and ham on halves of toasted English muffin for Jean-Paul's breakfast. If she didn't know by now how he liked his eggs, she might never learn.

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"Soft, please, Mommy," Jean-Luc said. Alternate dimensions with moms who didn't know how you liked your eggs were so weird.

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Lulu caught the egg before it turned hard, and layered it on another English muffin. "Here you go," she said, bringing it over to Jean-Luc. "Would you like anything to drink?"

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"Milk?" Jean-Luc asked. "Please? And thank you."

Jean-Paul? Still wondering where the manners had come from.

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Lulu got him a glass of milk, and then joined them at the table.

"What shall we do today?" she asked.

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"I wanna go flying!" Jean-Luc said immediately.

Then he remembered some people at the table couldn't fly. "Or...maybe not?"

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"You can fly? My son can fly!" Jean-Paul informed Lulu with a slightly dorky grin on his face.

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"I think, perhaps," Lulu said, "that the two of you should definitely go flying." She smiled. "It will be good... father-son bonding time."

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"Not like you fly," Jean-Luc explained. "S'different. I mess with gravity. And light." Second generation, early manifestation, as Hank McCoy would have put it, 'and then there's his mother to consider...' But Jean-Luc hadn't gotten that whole speech. Just the 'don't hide in plain sight, please, unless the bad guys are attacking' bit.

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"The mechanics are irrelevant," Jean-Paul assured him, not even thinking the child might not know those words. "We will go flying." Part of him really did not want to leave Joanne, but that was unfair to Jean-Luc, and besides, she was small enough to need naps, yes? They would fly then.

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"But first," Lulu said, pointing to their plates, "you must eat. We can figure out the rest of the day from there, I suppose." She considered. "... We might need to go shopping."

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Oh, yes, food.

Everyone in this room should be familiar by now with what happened when one presented Jean-Paul with delicious life-giving food. Except perhaps the one under the table, if he was there. The food tended to...disappear. Quickly.

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