Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the story line itself. Everything else belongs to someone else and that's the way it's going to stay. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

Note: I am not a huge or knowledgeable Xmen fan in comics or movies. Any mistakes…sorry lol.

Unexpected News

Dr. Charles Xavier was tired. Tired to the point where getting up in the morning was beginning to seem like a great waste of his time when his dreams were so much better than the reality that was his life. What did he have to get up for after all? Yes there was the school, and those who depended upon him to teach and guard them from those who would use, experiment, or kill them, but on days like this Charles couldn't seem to make that really matter. He needed a reason to get up every day and into his hated beyond all words chair. He needed someone in his life to make him live rather than just exist. Someone to fight with him by his side and kick his crippled ass when it needed it. Someone to hold and be held by when life dealt him another fucking, God awful hand. Someone to matter to as more than just a friend, protector, or teacher. He wanted…the impossible, and he knew it.

The fact that he was about to engage in a secret meeting with a woman he'd once cared for romantically wasn't helping his mood much either, especially since Charles knew in his gut that whatever Moira needed to see him about, he wasn't going to like it. She wouldn't be going to these lengths to hide their meeting if this was sanctioned by her agency after all. The CIA and other government agencies would be quite happy to get their hands on him and his telepathic abilities after all, but he'd made his feelings towards them clear and there weren't any active hunts going on for him that he knew about. So yes it made sense for her to be a little worried about providing her agency with a chance to get their hands on him, but Moira wasn't so high ranking that she'd be monitored regularly. And yet she'd insisted on disguises, an out of the way meeting place, and only cryptic as hell messages between them to set said meeting up. Yeah, not good. Not good at bloody all.

So here he and Hank were, waiting for her in a corner of Central Park while ignoring the fact that this was far from the safest place for them to be given the late hour and the fact that Charles looked like a sitting hippie duck in his wheelchair, with only the bookish, sweet faced Hank for protection. Though at least the serum his friend took to keep his human appearance was working well, otherwise there was no way they wouldn't have drawn the attention of everyone in the park's vicinity by now.

Though the wait hadn't been without some amusement, Charles mused to himself with a smile, mentally thanking some of the men who'd passed by them earlier for providing him with some very interesting mental images. And some of those men had mistaken the two of them as men intending to use the darkness of the park for a more…intimate sort of meeting, and Hank's reaction to the not at all coy advances of one of the men had brightened his mood considerably for a bit. Not to mention the fact that Hank had been awkwardly quiet ever since he'd explained to the scientist that this particular park at night wasn't only known for 'housing' muggers and the homeless. It was also a meeting place for homosexuals seeking the sexual company of likeminded men, and they were rather close to one of the gathering places, it seemed.

He was only sorry he hadn't had a camera on hand to capture the man's expression.

And truth be told Charles was more than a little tempted to peek into the man's mind to see what Hank thought of his knowledge on the subject, but obviously that was out of the question since it wasn't a matter of life or death and he didn't have Hank's permission to snoop. Keeping his word in that regard was the only way to keep himself and those closest to him sane and on somewhat level ground.

So Charles kept quiet too and tried not to think about how long it had been since the last time he'd had a decent shag, which was why his amusement hadn't lasted that long before.

One more thing to get hopelessly depressed about at the moment, Charles mused with dark humor, especially since he was laying off the liquor at the moment, which made everything that much worse. The only good thing about not drinking, as far as Charles was concerned at the moment, was that it meant Hank wasn't giving him the looks he hated most recently. A gut wrenching mix of pity and disappointment.

But thank Christ he was only cutting back for the time being, because the more he thought about it the more Charles wanted to suggest that they hit a bar after this. Dammit. Just three more weeks until Hank was going home to visit his family. Then he could finally drink himself into oblivion in peace without his friend feeling obligated to take care of or gently lecture him about what he was doing to himself with his drinking. Not that he could really blame the man, especially since he winced hard just thinking about why he really was currently as sober as a judge.

Charles looked down at his hands as he remembered his cruelty and the fact that while Hank had forgiven him, he had yet to forgive himself for what he'd said before. He'd been pissed out of his mind, true, but that didn't change the fact that when he'd snapped at Hank he'd told him that he had no right telling him he needed to accept the cards life had dealt him when Hank had ended up a furry blue beast because he had tried to change his fucking cards. He was also pretty sure he'd also thrown Raven in the other man's face, repeatedly, but his memory got a little hazy there. But he was sure that he'd hurt Hank, who'd been taking care of him for the past six years and hadn't deserved any of it.

"You alright?"

Shaking the memories from his mind Charles nodded automatically. "Brilliant. What time is it?"

A pause as Hank checked his watch. "She should be here soon. Eager to see her?"

Lips curving in self-deprecation, Charles cocked his head back to look up Hank. "Alas, my friend, but I haven't sunk so deep I'm into pity sex yet. She apologized for shooting me AGAIN in her latest letter, six years later, so that's exactly what it would be." Snort. "Which is not to say we both wouldn't greatly benefit from being laid in the near future."

"No shit." Was Hank's muttered reply.

Laughing, something he knew they both needed, Charles grinned with the boyish charm he'd once been known for. "Too bad we aren't each other's type. Then we'd be set."

"Don't put those images in my head. I will poison you."

Laughing, Charles was all set to tease when images of his own started forming. And given how Hank felt about his sister, on top of the fact that Raven had and possibly still was sleeping with Erik…yeah, he was feeling a little sick to his stomach at the thought now too. Ugh.

)

Thankfully the fates were kind, and before they could be completely traumatized by their own minds a body detached itself from the shadows in front of them and started swaggering in their direction. A body that was clothed to appear young and male, but moved and felt female to Charles's discerning eye. And when he used his abilities to do the briefest of scans, just to be sure, Charles smiled at the confirmation that it was in fact Moira coming towards them, her thoughts focused on trying to note everything around them before Charles politely cut off their connection, whispering softly to Hank who it was so that his 'bodyguard' wouldn't worry as she continued towards them.

Then she was standing before them, her long hair hidden under a hat, the bulky leather jacket doing an excellent job of hiding her soft curves as she smiled at them in greeting, thanking them for coming.

"You did make it seem rather important."

"It is." Her smile fell away with her words, the dim glow of nearby street lights giving her face a shadowed, grim look to it. "And I can't stay long, it's too dangerous. As it is…odds are high they'll figure out that I helped you once they're reported missing."

Leaning forward in his chair, and taking her hand to squeeze it in sympathy, Charles kept his voice as gentle as he could as he asked her what was going on.

"My agency did something. Something unforgivable. I didn't know, Charles, I swear to you both I didn't…but I brought you into this when I came to you for help with Shaw. It's as much my fault as the others but I'd have never allowed it if I'd known. And you have to save the two that are left. I…knowing about the others I…sorry, I'm…since I found out I haven't slept."

"Do you need to sit down?" Hank asked, speaking for the first time.

"No. Thank you. I can't." A deep breath, and then a squaring of shoulders as Moira pushed back against the weight of whatever pain and darkness she bore on them. "When you were first brought in Hank ran tests on all your blood, studying your DNA to find out what made you different, remember?" Both men nodded. "Well at one point he had to take extra because a lab assistant accidentally knocked over and destroyed a bunch of the samples. Right?"

Both men nodded again, having no idea where she was going with this.

"They lied about that. That assistant planted fake blood on the floor and handed the real samples over to my superiors, who in turn gave them to a small group of scientists with orders to use your genetic material to create…to create mutant children with more than one ability who would be raised from birth as CIA operatives."

Stunned silent, Charles heard in some portion of his mind what Hank was saying, the other man shouting about gene manipulation, illegal experimentation, artificial insemination, and his general fury over the idea that the samples his friends had given him in good faith had been used for such a heinous and immoral purpose while Moira tried to get him to lower his voice. And while Xavier understood and was in agreement with the majority of what his friends were saying his thoughts were focused on two more important things. One was that Erik had said that this was something the world's governments would do, round them up to use them as weapons and lab rats, and the second…

"You said two? There are two children out there?"

Both went silent, Moira taking Charles hand again, as he'd let go in his shock moments before. "Yes. There are two still alive."

"What do you mean, still alive?" Hank demanded harshly, his voice hard with emotion and the need to lash out and cause pain to those who had done this to them. "They killed them? The ones who weren't mutant enough for them?" He spit out the words like they were the greatest of profanities.

"It was all experimental; they didn't really know what they were doing, Hank. They had such a small sampling to work with because they were only interested in certain abilities. They had samples from others…but in the end only eight infants were born. Of those three showed no sign of the mutant genes, and the other four only had one ability as opposed to the multiples they were hoping for."

"But one did."

"Yes." Moira nodded in Hank's direction. "He's their greatest achievement. And their most dangerous weapon if he remains in their hands."

Squeezing the hand he held hard enough that they were practically bone to bone, and not caring a fuck about that, Charles asked what he and Hank both had to be thinking. "What happened to the other children?"

"The ones without abilities were removed from the facility and placed in orphanages. I looked into it, and they're all in good homes. They're safe. The others…there was an accident four months ago. One of the children…it's believed she lost control and caused a massive explosion that destroyed the labs and nearly everyone involved in the experiments. The only survivors weren't inside, including one child who'd been taken outside as a reward, and another who was offsite for work. The project was shut down after it happened; the higher ups decided it was too much work and expense to rebuild right now. Both children are now living with the agent in charge of the experiments as his adopted sons."

In a startling display of speed Hank stomped a short distance away before swinging his fist and punching a huge dent into the large oak tree they'd been waiting by. And Hank didn't stop punching the hell out of it until the tree snapped and broken in half, its crash to the ground echoing in the park like a gunshot.

Having jumped a little at the display of fury and strength, as well as going for her hidden sidearm instinctively, Moira's voice was that of someone trying to talk someone off a ledge as she told Hank that none of the samples of his DNA had resulted in pregnancy.

The look he aimed in her direction made it clear that didn't change his feelings on the matter one bit.

"I can't stay much longer. I'm sorry. It was pure coincidence I found out about this, someone higher up just assumed I knew about it because I was involved in what happened in Cuba." Opening her coat as she spoke, Moira reached in and retrieved a manila envelope. "All the information I have is in here, including where to find the children and all the important data on them. Don't retrieve them until you have a solid plan in place, they're safe for the time being and no one wants them to get caught in the crossfire when you get them."

Taking the envelope automatically, Charles stared at it blindly, still unable to wrap his mind around it all.

"Good luck. I'm so sorry about this, Charles. I wish…" A brief brush of her fingertips over his cheek, and then Moira spun around and hurried back off the way she'd come, leaving them behind to deal with the fallout of what they'd just learned.

)

Hours later Charles sat by his bedroom window with a lamp at his side that provided the only light in the room while he stared out into the night sky's inky blackness. The file Moira had given him sat on his lap, one hand resting on top of it to keep it there until he needed to remind himself that he hadn't imagine it all again. That he wasn't drunk or in some bizarre universe where this sort of thing was possible. Because it shouldn't be possible, and yet it was. The proof was right in front of him. And hell, at this point Charles couldn't have told anyone how many times he'd looked at the picture of his son already. His son. He had a five year old son with dark coloring, ears that were just slightly too big, and had a hint of dimples in his chubby cheeks. Arthur. His and Erik's son. Their son by blood. Theirs.

If heads really could just self-combust Charles figured his would have done so hours ago.

Better to think about the data collected about the boy's abilities, Charles told himself, his telepathy having been passed down through his blood to his son. Arthur was a very strong telepath according to the file, on par with Charles at that age, he was guessing. And no one knew better than he did how alone and scary it was to be a telepath in a sea of people who would fear or abuse his gift if they knew, with no one who could really understand what it was like to know so much about the way people truly thought and viewed the world…But his son wouldn't have to go through that alone. He'd have someone who understood him and the curse that was often their 'gift'.

Arthur also had Erik's gift for manipulating metal, but he wasn't strong or consistent there, and it apparently took a lot out of the boy depending on the variables involved. So while that definitely hinted at Erik's parentage, it was the boy's appearance that would convince his old friend that Arthur was his son too. Because there was no doubt in Charles' mind that the boy was Erik's, the resemblance their son bore to a cousin he'd seen in the other man's memories was too striking to be a coincidence. And it was heart wrenching beyond words too, since Charles knew that the boy who'd been one of Erik's favorite playmates as a child had been sent straight to the gas chambers decades before. Small for his age, as well as two years younger than Erik, the boy hadn't stood a chance as soon as he was delivered to Auschwitz. Another death Erik had never forgiven himself.

Which brought Charles own thoughts back to the fact that he was faced with a moral dilemma of epic proportions where Erik was concerned. Again.

It went without saying that Erik and Raven's help would be invaluable in retrieving the boys, but not only would it take him a while to get ahold of them, and he refused to wait that long, but there was no question in his mind that there would be unnecessary bloodshed if the two were part of the rescue operation. Not that he wouldn't understand their desire to kill everyone involved in this, he was right there with them whenever he thought of what could or might still happen. If Moira hadn't found out about them or something had happened to the boys before now, so that he was left knowing he'd lost a son he'd never even had the chance to lay eyes on…

The idea that his child had been raised to be a lab rat and tool for the CIA, there were no words for the amount of rage and hate just the thought of it inspired in him. Quite frankly Charles wanted to experiment on everyone involved as inhumanely as possible and see how they liked it. But the boys and the children who'd died hadn't been mistreated, he reminded himself, and as long as his son and the other boy were well when he retrieved them it would be wrong of him to sic Erik and Raven on the CIA director and his people. Especially Erik.

So ergo the question was…could he trust Erik enough to tell him about their son once he had him?