(Continued for Katrina's parents from Uprooted.)

Katrina’s mother, Claire, came down the stairs dressed for business. Her husband, Jean, was still in his bathrobe eating Honey Bunches of Oats and watching the morning news in the kitchen. For the one with the paying job, he sure was slow to get ready in the morning. Claire ruffled his hair good morning, something she had enjoyed since they were in college. She pulled out another bowl and poured herself a generous helping of honey-sweetened flakes and oat clusters.

The news droned on about the new registration act and its repercussions. “… and in New York City, there has been a mutant raid on Xavier’s Sister School…” Claire dropped the milk jug and milk splattered everywhere. Jean shot to his feet, knocking over the kitchen chair. “What?!”

“…several mutants were captured and taken to be registered at the price of at least one confirmed police fatality,” the newscaster continued. “It is still undecided as to what will be the fate of the dangerous mutants that were captured.”

The rest of his words were drowned out by Jean’s shouts. “How did those… those… things find her? I thought she was supposed to be safe! So help me, I’ll make sure every one of those mutants that attacked that school is hanged. We’ve got to see if Katrina is safe!”

Claire was still in shock. How could this happen? … What had she done?

Jean grasped her shoulders, “We have to make sure she’s safe!”

Jeeves began to lap at the spilt milk.

Claire snapped out of shock. “I’ll call the school first. Maybe she’s still there.” She grabbed her purse off of the counter dug through it until she found a brochure that read Xavier’s Sister School across the top. She flipped to the back and found the school phone number. She picked up the phone and dialed.

“It isn’t ringing. The line at the school must be disconnected,” she informed her husband. This was not a good sign. “Why didn’t we get her a cell phone?” she mumbled.

Jean frowned, “We should go up there and look for her. Maybe the phone line was damaged. She could still be at the school.”

Hans walked into the kitchen, looked at the spilt milk, his dripping employers, and the upturned chair, and began to return the kitchen to its normal state. “Is something the matter?” He asked as he mopped up the milk.

Claire responded, “Katrina’s school has been attacked. There was some sort of fight between mutants and the police. We don’t know yet if Katrina is safe.”

Hans’ face paled visibly, “What is your plan?”

Jean answered, “We’ll drive to New York. Work can wait.”

Hans nodded, “I will call to cancel your appointments for the day while you prepare to leave.” Hans glanced down pointedly at his employer’s milk soaked bathrobe as he returned the mop to the cupboard.

Jean nodded, “I’ll be ready in ten minutes. Have the car ready to go.”

As Claire and Jean swept upstairs Hans regarded his cat, “You’re in charge while we’re gone. Be good and keep an eye on things for me alright?”

Jeeves mewed his response and Hans flipped open his cell phone and began dialing.

(Continued in Searching for Katrina.)

(Continued for Jean and Claire several weeks after their trip to the police station.)

The last few weeks had been hard for Katrina’s parents. They had come home from New York without being able to find their daughter. Thankfully she hadn’t been at the morgue, but she hadn’t been anywhere else either. They had hired two private detectives, had the police on the look out, and they had sent a few letters to the camp to see if Katrina had been taken there by accident. She was nowhere to be found.

They had gotten a tree and set up decorations for the holiday season. At first Claire hadn’t wanted to, but Jean had argued that if Katrina came home, she would be disappointed if there were no decorations at all. Claire had humored him. She didn’t want to start any more fights.

They had been fighting a lot lately. Katrina was constantly on their minds, and every phone call made them jump. Normal conversations seemed awkward and pointless. Claire still hadn’t told Jean the truth about Katrina and herself being mutants, but she had come out and said that she didn’t support the mutant registration act. She blamed the law for causing the tensions between humans and mutants, and argued that if the law hadn’t passed, Katrina wouldn’t be missing. She abhorred the camps, and couldn’t believe that Jean could have supported a law that allowed for harmless people such as children to be locked up and treated like slaves. The media was downplaying the role of the camps, but word on the street was that some of the mutants had died, that they were being tortured. Claire knew who she believed. The news stations would not want to make the government look bad.

Jean had become more and more sure that his vote had been in the right place. He blamed the mutants for kidnapping his daughter. He was convinced that the law was doing exactly what it should be doing: getting dangerous mutants off the street and to a place where they couldn’t hurt anyone else’s family. Mutants had torn his family apart, and they were paying for it. Every time he heard of a mutant getting caught and hauled off to the camps, he was glad. Served them right.

Tensions were high at the Dumonde household, but both parents clung to the hope that, soon, they would have word about Katrina and that she would be home safe.

Christmas Morning

Jean was alone at home. Claire had gone out to do some grocery shopping, or to be by herself for awhile. Jean suspected it was the latter, since not many stores were open on Christmas Day.

When the phone rang, he let it ring twice before answering. He didn’t want whoever it was on the other end to know that he was constantly waiting for a phone call about Katrina. Maybe it would be the police, or one of the detectives, maybe they had found his daughter! He had been disappointed so many times that he almost didn’t dare to hope for news, but he couldn’t squash that little spark, that little glimmer of hope.

“Dumonde residence, this is Senator Jean Dumonde speaking.”

“Daddy?” It sounded like Katrina’s voice. Was this a joke? Was he hearing things?

“Katrina! Is that really you? Are you all right? Where are you?” He hadn’t heard her voice in months. All his hopes were coming true! If he could have had anything for Christmas, it would be to have his daughter back in his arms. If she could say where she was…

“It’s really me. I don’t know exactly where I am, but I’m fine. I’m with the others like me.” What did she mean by that? Where was she? Was this one of those ransom calls? It would be a sick individual to wait until Christmas to hold a child for ransom.

“They have kidnapped others as well?”

“Not… really. It is protection, not kidnapping.”

“Oh god, they haven’t brainwashed you have they?” Damned psychic mutants.

“What? No. Everyone here is nice.” It’s true! Brainwashed. Or worse. He had to get her back.

“Katrina, what have the mutants done to you?” Jean suspected the worst. Torture, brainwashing, or worse things he couldn’t imagine and didn’t want to name. He held his breath while he waited for her to answer. It seemed like she was taking a long time to respond. Was there someone standing over her monitoring the call? Was she in danger right now? Were there things she wasn’t allowed to say?

“They… mutants haven’t done anything to me. I… I’m a mutant too.” Jean’s mind couldn’t comprehend Katrina’s answer at first. What ever he had expected her to say, it hadn’t been that.

“They didn’t… genetically experiment on you. They couldn’t possibly have found a way to make humans into mutants!” It was worse than he had suspected.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was already a mutant. I found out right before I switched schools.” Finally he was beginning to understand.

There was a long pause as Jean put the information together in his head. When he finally spoke, it was with a calm voice, “You’re a mutant. All this time we’ve been worried about you and you’re a mutant?” His voice began to rise with the last word of that sentence. “You thought you’d just run away to be with your own kind, and we would think that you were killed or captured in that mutant raid? Is that it? I suppose you never thought we might be worried about you. Are you hiding anything else? Is there anything else you’ve lied about?” By now he was yelling.

“I… I…”

Jean didn’t let her finish. His anger had taken over and made him forget the things that were important to him. He just couldn’t stand to be lied to. Well, if you want to be with your little mutant friends, then fine. You can just stay wherever the hell you are and we won’t look for you or worry about you any more. With that he slammed the phone back in it’s receiver. Never mind that it was a cordless phone that needed to have the button pressed before it actually hung up.

He heard a small voice from the receiver say “Wait…” before vindictively pressing the disconnect button.

He was so angry that he was actually shaking. He heard enough lies at work that he wouldn’t stand for it at home. That will teach her to lie to me. No one who lies will live under my roof.

(See also: Katrina's side of the conversation.)

Claire pulled into the grocery store parking lot. It was completely empty and the store was closed. It seemed that even though Claire wanted to forget that it was Christmas, the rest of the world did not. She sighed. They didn’t really need groceries anyway. The eggnog that she had said she was coming to get didn’t really matter, since they weren’t really celebrating anyway.

She parked the car. There was a park nearby that had a nice walking trail, and since she was going to be walking anyway, she figured she might as well start now instead of driving to the park.

As she walked, Claire reflected back on recent and not-so-recent events.

When did my life become such a mess? Probably back when this lie first started.
I was trying to protect my daughter. Perhaps I was really trying to protect myself.
If only Jean were more accepting of mutants. If only I had told the truth at that very first opportunity, maybe he would have been.
I was afraid to tell him. I still am. I was so blinded by love that I didn’t want to do anything that might risk losing him.
Now I’m trapped by a lie. I couldn’t admit that I had lied and now that one lie has grown to include our daughter. I never wanted to drag her into this.
I thought it would be for the best. I was so wrong. So very wrong.

It was hard to admit that she had been wrong, but even harder to actually do something about it. If she told Jean now, she’d have to tell him the whole truth, about Katrina, about herself, about the brick. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him about the brick, it wasn’t that important. What would he do when he was faced with the truth?

Was it even her place to tell Jean? This was Katrina’s secret now too, and she had a right to do with it as she pleased. Except she wasn’t here to decide that for herself. Claire felt yet again the pang of loss at losing her daughter. She wished she could do more.

She had reached the path that led around the pond and started to walk along it. She wasn’t wearing the best walking shoes, and it was a little slippery. For awhile she concentrated on not falling, but her thoughts gradually drifted back to her daughter.

Claire was certain that Katrina was still alive. Mother’s instinct would have told her if her daughter had been killed. She had to be in hiding somewhere. Wherever the children of Xavier’s Sister School ended up, that was where she would find her daughter. The supervisor of the camps had informed them that their daughter was not in the camps, multiple times. No one there even matched her description. So she probably wasn’t there. Where then? Claire was fed up with the lack of news. She was about ready to go search for her daughter herself. She didn’t have as many resources as private investigators or police, but she couldn’t stand the waiting anymore.

Her walk brought her all the way around the big pond and back to the start of the path. She was now thoroughly frigid, and her thoughts were a bit frigid too. She couldn’t help but be angry. She was angry with herself for the tangled lies she had woven for herself, but she was also angry with Jean. He was very stubborn and very dense. Once he got an idea, there was no letting go of it. He had decided that mutants were bad and nothing, it seemed, could change his mind. She had originally liked his stubbornness, he had stood up for what he believed in and never backed down. It was an admirable trait until he stood on the opposite side of the fence and wouldn’t bend in his ideas at all.

She had made it back to the car now. It was probably time to be going home, at least to warm up. A few minutes later she arrived back at the house, and heard heard a door slam upstairs just as she entered. That was odd. She hadn’t even been fighting with Jean and he was slamming doors.

“Jean, what is wrong?” she called up the stairs. He didn’t answer. He probably couldn’t hear her. She took off her coat and boots and walked up. She knocked lightly on the bedroom door. “Jean, what is wrong?” she repeated.

“Katrina ran away. She’s a mutant and she ran away to be with her own kind,” came Jean’s voice from the other side of the door.

Claire turned a shade paler, how could he know that Katrina was a mutant? Was he just making up some scenario to explain what had happened, or did he actually know? She pushed open the door and walked into the bedroom. “What do you mean?” She kept her voice level.

“She called. She said she was a mutant and that she had known about it before switching schools.”

“She what?” Claire interjected, but Jean kept on talking, assuming her outburst was shock at Katrina’s being a mutant, not that she had called home.

“Yup, a mutant. And she lied to us until she had the chance to run away from the school we picked for her. She probably wouldn’t fit in there anyway, since she’s not a fricking human. She lied to us Claire and she didn’t even stop to consider that we might be worried.”

“Wait, Katrina called?” Claire couldn’t believe her ears. She was a little confused about Jean’s rendition of the story, but what was important was that she had called home. Katrina had even more courage than her mother, the courage to tell the truth. And she was alive! Of course she had known Katrina was alive, mother’s instinct and all.

“Of course, I just said that,” Jean looked slightly confused that his rant was being interrupted.

“Was she safe? Where was she?” Maybe they could go get her! This could be the best Christmas present of them all!

“I don’t know,” Jean shrugged, “she said she was with a bunch of mutants that was all.” Jean practically spit the word “mutants”.

“What do you mean? You didn’t ask where she was?” Claire could feel the anger rising in her. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her that liars and mutants were not welcome to live in this house and that she could stay wherever the hell she was.” He said it so nonchalantly.

“You mean you spoke to our daughter and told her we didn’t want her back? You didn’t find out where she was or even get a phone number? You idiot!” Claire shouted several other names that would not be appropriate to write here. “How could you do that to your own daughter? Oh and another thing. If liars and mutants aren’t allowed to live in your house, I won’t live here either, because I’m a mutant too.” Well, now the cat was out of the bag. Claire didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t going to stay another minute in the same house as this… monster.

He was yelling, but Claire wasn’t listening anymore. She grabbed a bag from the closet and shoved some spare clothes inside. She didn’t worry about taking the cell phone or a toothbrush or makeup. She didn’t really need any of those things. It was the fastest packing she had ever done, but she wasn’t going to spend any extra time here.

“Where are you going?” Jean was yelling as she stormed down the stairs.

“I’m going to go find my daughter.” And with that Claire left. She took the car and started driving north.

(Summer 08)

"Well Jeeves," Hans addressed the black and white tuxedo cat, "We are free men. What do you say we head to New York to see my sister?"

The long-time Dumonde family butler had just handed his letter of registration to the head of the house. It felt wonderful to be free. The job had been a good one for a long time and only a year ago he wouldn't have considered leaving the family for anything. It was different now. Ever since Katrina had gone missing, things had started going downhill. The Mr. and Mrs. had fought, mostly about mutant rights, then finally about their daughter. Then, Mrs. Dumonde had left on Christmas Day and hadn't returned. It didn't look like she would, even if she found her daughter.

Over the years, Hans had come to view the Dumondes as his family, but now the family had broken into pieces because of the stubbornness of Mr. Dumonde. For months, Hans had stayed at the house, continuing to fulfill his duties, but things were getting worse rather than better.

For one thing, all of Hans' recipes were off, because he wasn't used to cooking for just one person. The idea of leftovers didn't sit well with him either. No one ever came to the house anymore, so there was never a need to entertain- and Mr. Dumonde never went out either- unless it was to go to the liquor store. In all honesty, Mr. Dumonde had become a bit of a mess. He talked to himself when he was drunk- which was almost every night now.

Even odder, Mr. Dumonde wouldn't let Hans put away the Christmas decorations. The tree stood in the living room, as dry and bare as a desert, shedding pine needles on top of still wrapped Christmas presents that had started fading on the side closest to the window. A box of ornaments sat on the floor next to the tree. They had made the journey up from the basement the day after Thanksgiving, but this year they hadn't ever made it out of the box, waiting for the whole family to be together again.

Hans couldn't take it anymore. It was time to leave. His sister had told him about a job opening in the same place she worked, just outside of New York City: head chef in the "canteen" at some laboratory company or something. It wasn't exactly butlering- but Hans wasn't sure he was ready for another family as mixed up as the Dumondes had become. His sister was very loyal to her employer, so he must be alright. In any case, he would welcome the change- he was done working for men who had bad drinking habits, who estranged their own daughters, and couldn't cope with the loss of a woman without going psycho.

The cat stretched in response to Hans' question.