Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within this story, or subsequent stories, that you, the reader, may recognize from the X-Men Universe

Chapter 1

-Quiet Mornings-

We flatter those we scarcely know, we please the fleeting guest, and deal full many a thoughtless blow, to those who love us best. -Ella Wheeler Wilcox

June, 1968 New York

Gentle sunshine pierced through high-set rectangular windows, casting small and misshapen shadows onto the freshly waxed wooden floorboards and along the magnolia walls. Where the light had been obstructed and scattered into shards by the sheer chiffon curtains, tiny flecks of glittering dust danced within them in small downward spirals. A slight breeze wafted through an open window, gently tumbling through the modest apartment, carrying with it the striking scents and sounds of the Bronx.

Through the kitchen window, she observed the increasing hubbub of the streets below with slight disinterest, gently stirring the mugs of coffee she had prepared. The smell wafted above her, settling well against the rhythmic hum of the city.

As a child, she had never imagined a life in a city, let alone New York. She had never thought of living outside the moors of Banbury and breathing anything other than the crisp country air.

But that was a different time, a different place, a different world.

There was no use for that now.

Sighing, she picked up the mugs and proceeded to the bedroom, yawning into the smooth boulder of her exposed shoulder as she did. She carefully traversed through the apartment with the steaming mugs in both hands, stepping over the various articles of clothing which had been strewn about by the antics of the night before. She stepped in and carefully set the mugs down, watching him in his slumbered state with deep fondness.

Tiny blonde hairs bristled as his bare chest rose and fell in a steady pattern, his nostrils contracting and flaring with each breath. She was momentarily reminded of her own nakedness, of which was cloaked only by his shirt.

Smiling, she gently ran her fingers up and down his cheek, attempting to stir him from his sleep. With a quiet snort his bright blue eyes fluttered open, though at first a little groggy.

"Good morning." Elsa Muller greeted quietly, pulling herself up closer to him.

Alexander Summers offered her a quick glance, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. He smiled, closed his eyes again.

"Good morning." He said, his tone unmistakeably content. He rolled over and snuggled himself beside her, resting his head on her lap.

"What time is it?" Alex asked, his voice slightly muffled.

"Half-past six." said Elsa, with a slight chuckle.

Alex instantly rolled back.

"Jesus."

"And it's Monday."

Sighing, Alex gently tugged on Elsa's arm and pulled her to him, tucking her beneath his chin.

"Let's call in sick." He suggested, running his fingers up and down her arm. "How about that? We'll just lie in bed all day."

"Just lie in bed?" asked Elsa coyly. She immediately felt rather sheepish; twenty-four years old and still that sort of talk didn't come naturally to her.

Elsa could feel his smile against the top her head.

"Not necessarily." He murmured.

Elsa couldn't help but grin, thinking of the numerous times they had cancelled their classes and spent the day together. Out of goodwill, their boss and dear friend, Charles Xavier had never said anything. It was an undeniable perk, but of course, Charles' good nature made them feel all the more guilty about their escapades. But when the feelings and thoughts arose, they were like giddy teenagers.

But Elsa was grateful for it, for the awe and exhilaration of young love that still existed between them. Even all that had happened, from the moment they had met, she felt perpetually blessed that life had been kind to them in these five years and had allowed them to grow alongside each other.

Sighing, Elsa glanced at the pair of dirty blue overalls Alex had hung against the door of their armoire. It hung from an inside hook, covered in splashes of paint and dark patches of oil and peppered all over with tiny holes. The ends of the arms and legs had begun to fray and despite Elsa's continuous nagging Alex had done nothing to fix them. Elsa worked as the Head of English at the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and it was a job she thoroughly enjoyed. She lived for the spark she saw in the eyes of her students, as they discussed the intricate themes of various literary, albeit human, texts and the parallels between those and mutants lives. In her humble opinion, her students were nothing short of brilliant and not a single day was a burden. She had always been content with her work and the security it provided her, but Alex had not been.

In the years since the Missile Crisis, he had been fiercely intent on securing a steady future for the two of them, and as such had taken to working in a garage in addition to his position as Head of Physical Education at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It had brought in valuable extra money and had allowed an accelerated entrance into the first-home market. But it had often meant very late nights and early mornings for him, and as a result Elsa hardly saw Alex beyond school hours.

But balmy, slightly lazy, mornings like these made it all the worthwhile.

"I suppose it's easy to forget that we're teachers." said Elsa, propping herself up. She turned round and faced him, grinning from ear to ear. "Exams start today."

Groaning, Alex flopped against the bed-head and crossed his arms over his chest. "I almost forgot."

Elsa effortlessly launched herself off the water-bed, the mattress sloshing and slopping as she did. She returned with her heavy pile of papers, fresh off the copier.

"I didn't." She grinned, shaking them in her hands.

"Would you look at that?" Alex laughed, taking the exams into his hands. He opened one and flicked through it, raising his brow at the sight of every several pages.

"This looks impossible." He scoffed.

"I think you underestimate our students." said Elsa.

Alex looked up. "I think everyone does."

It was true, Elsa only taught the junior and senior classes, but there was something to be said about every student at the school. Alone, confused and isolated in their home states, amongst their own they had all burst forth and flourished at exponential rates. This year, the first graduating class would leave the school and Elsa could honestly affirm that she felt genuine affection for each and every one.

Placing the exams into her satchel, Elsa reached over and pecked Alex lightly on the lips.

"We best be getting ready."

"Or we could wait another ten minutes."

A wicked grin spread across Alex's handsome face as he reached out to her, gently clasping his hand around her wrist. Elsa let out a small giggle as he pulled her towards him and enveloped her beneath the covers.

The rush of Monday mornings was bad enough as it was, even worse so when done in heels.

Elsa rushed through the front gates of the school, not waiting for Alex to catch up. The 'Gifted Youngsters' sign which sat above the gate swung lightly in the summer breeze, making her irrational fear of it crashing down and impaling her all the worse.

Her strapped heels clacked incessantly against the gravel pathway, the belt of her knee-length skirt shifting uncomfortably against her waist with each step.

Through the numerous windows of the mansion, she could already see the students hustling and bustling about. No doubt they were desperately exchanging last minute information and ideas, some no doubt acquiring certain knowledge for the first time.

The younger children had taken to the outdoors, enjoying the early summer sun. They rushed and skidded around the newly installed basketball court, screaming with delight and basking in the joy of no examinations, as older students watched with obvious jealousy.

Elsa quickly slipped through the front double-doors, but almost skidded right into a high-speed Hank McCoy. In the confusion, Hank tripped over his feet and the papers he had been carrying flew out of his hands, sailing in the air in every possible direction.

The two bent down and began to collect them

"Good morning, Hank." laughed Elsa, reaching around the banisters of the stairs and pulling out wayward sheets of paper.

"Good morning, Elsa." Hank returned with equal blitheness.

He sighed, readjusting his glasses.

"I'm so sorry about that." giggled Elsa, handing the papers to Hank.

"No, that was all me." said Hank, waving his hand dismissively. "I've been flying about all morning."

He placed the papers upon a nearby stool and gave her a quick hug. His cobalt fur stuck up at different angles atop his head, his bright yellow eyes were rimmed with red and his eye-lids drooped tiredly; no doubt he had woken up at an obscene hour to prepare for the day.

It was something Elsa admired her good friend for, his selflessness and his dedication; he loved their students as much as she did. He never took any liberties or short cuts; his priority was always the welfare and betterment of his students.

And it had been good for him too.

The years spent welcoming young mutants, all possessing a diverse and incredible range of abilities, had allowed Hank to feel all the more comfortable with himself. Increasingly, he spent less time in front of a mirror and more in front of the classroom. However, it did not negate the numerous occasions Elsa had watched as he caught his reflection in a mirror or a window and stared in despair, and it was something that saddened her greatly.

"Everything ready?" Hank asked, snapping Elsa out of her daze.

Smiling, she pulled the exams out from her satchel.

"My students will not be able to feel their hands by the time they're finished."

"Well, you know what they say; the best way to educate children is to break them." A voice called from behind them.

A rather debonair Sean Cassidy emerged from the shadows, his arms crossed behind his back and an impish smile spread wide across his face. His normally wild carroty hair had been slicked back against his head, and the bushy moustache he had been working on for the last four months had been visibly brushed and trimmed. He donned a mustard tweed blazer, complete with tartan trousers and bright red bow tie fastened to the apex of his throat.

It was something that he did, during every exam period, to dress like he was 'related to Charles' and walk around the school waving a cane and barking 'I say!' in a stiff English accent (one which he proudly proclaimed he modelled off Elsa's own) at every passing student.

Surprisingly enough, none of the students had grown openly tired of it, in fact glad for his everlasting cheeriness.

"A very wise man once said that." said Sean, tipping his head slightly.

Elsa laughed, crossing her arms. "Was he called...Sean Cassidy?"

"Why, yes!" exclaimed Sean, waving his cane triumphantly in the air.

Frowning slightly, Hank pushed forward to the main dining hall which had been cleared into an examination room.

"Well, I guess we better set up."

"Where's Alex?" Sean asked Elsa.

Before Elsa could answer, Alex appeared from behind them. He was carrying numerous sports equipment and bags, and a visible film of sweat covered his forehead.

"Alex is in a dreamlike hell, where Charles' face plasters the walls and screams at him 'wake up won't you, old boy?'" said Alex, setting the equipment down. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and sighed.

There was a slight rumble and the whir of a motor which caused the group to turn around and watch as Charles Xavier rolled towards them down the hallway, fresh faced and dressed in his best suit.

Even after all this time, it was still strange for Elsa to see him so; at any time, she still expected him to magically stand up and walk about the mansion. Hank had managed to motorize the wheelchair, which provided Charles some independence. But it was clear to everyone that it wasn't the same; something would always be missing.

"I'm thoroughly flattered you dream of me, Alex." chuckled Charles, to which Alex happily nodded in acknowledgement.

Charles shifted in his wheelchair, the leather seat no doubt causing the Professor much discomfort against the summer heat. But it was clear that his discomfort extended beyond the seat of his wheelchair.

After a moment, Charles clasped his hands together.

"Well, I don't know about all of you, but I cannot wait to get started."

Smiling, he restarted his wheelchair and moved to join Hank in the dining hall. Alex swiftly followed, with Elsa and Sean trailing behind.

Sean was simply unable to contain his wicked grin, leaning down to whisper in Elsa's ear.

"Sounds like you should be worried."

Elsa couldn't help but laugh. If there were someone she loved just as much as she loved Alex, it was Charles. And she suspected Alex felt the same.

By the time the last batch of exams had concluded for the day, it was well into the afternoon. The summer sun had set upon the horizon, casting wondrous shadows and striking colours of orange through to magenta across the mansion.

Due to the use of the dining hall for examinations, supper had been taken outside into the back field. Set beneath a pocket of tall magnolias, several rows of tables and mismatched chairs were filled by hungry students and teachers, their excitable chatter drifting high into the air.

Elsa was trekking back to the mansion, feeling slightly content. The day had run smoothly, and none of her students seemed overly stressed or anxious.

But it was not the students she had ever been worried about; she knew they were going to be just fine. It was Charles who had caught her attention.

She stood before the doors to his office, debating with herself as to whether to go in or not.

It was true, Charles had returned from that day on the beach irrevocably altered. And to the students and new staff who did not know better, his behaviour never seemed off or unusual.

It was blaringly obvious, however, to Elsa and to those who had been with Charles from the beginning.

Before she was able to bring herself to knock, Charles' voice drifted through.

"Come in, Elsa."

Elsa could feel the exhaustion in his voice. Sighing, she pushed through.

Elsa was mildly taken aback. Books and papers were strewn all over the normally well kept office, with a chair overturned and a seeping pot of ink lying in the middle of the floor. Elsa noticed several pencils rolling lifelessly upon his desk, snapped into jagged halves.

Charles himself was sitting in his grand leather desk seat, his back turned and only the tops of his curly copper hair visible.

"Charles?" Elsa asked, staring at his office with unease which was made even worse by his silence.

Charles had his good days and his bad days. He never said anything, but all those who knew could see how terribly he missed his adoptive sister Raven, how much he hated how life had changed for him.

Elsa pressed on. "You seemed...you seemed preoccupied this morning."

She pulled up the overturned chair and sat down in it, absently twisting her fingers in her lap.

"Oh, you know what exam period is like." replied Charles lazily. Elsa could detect a slight slur in his voice and her eyes immediately glanced over at the empty decanter of whisky on his desk.

"Yes." said Elsa slowly. "The first year we held exams. I don't know if its applicable five years later."

Charles let out an audible snort and turned round in his seat.

Elsa felt like crying herself.

Charles was uncharacteristically dishevelled. His eyes were blood-shot and puffy, his cheeks slick with dried tears. His hair had fallen messily into his brilliant blue eyes, with the knot of his tie hanging loosely around his neck. The calm and pleasant Professor from the morning was long gone.

Elsa looked down at her lap. "I would ask what's wrong, but I think I already know the answer to that."

Charles rested an arm on his desk, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. His sniffed, his bottom lip quivering.

"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss her."

"I know." Elsa said, sighing herself. "But it's what she wanted."

"It's not what I wanted." Charles said bitterly.

Raven did not occupy Elsa's mind as much as she did Charles', but she missed her good friend all the same.

Raven had changed so much in the time Elsa had known her, had turned so quickly from a timid and insecure girl into a self-assured and resolute young woman. She wondered where she was, what she was doing, what path her life had taken since that day. It had been five years since Elsa had last seen her, in any form, and the only news she ever heard were the rumours which circulated the activities of Erik Lensher and his motley crew of mutants.

Erik.

Now there was a friend Elsa longed to see. She often wondered whether he still considered her a friend, whether if they were to meet tomorrow they would be able to go on as they had all that time ago. She wondered if he hated her now, for choosing love over all else. She wondered if he thought her weak like the humans he so vehemently despised.

Elsa looked up to the sound of squeaking wheels and the churn of wood against wood; Charles was attempting to shift out of his desk-chair and into his wheelchair.

Elsa immediately sprang to her feet.

"Don't!" demanded Charles, his tone unmistakeably livid. Elsa watched in discomfort as Charles achingly pulled himself out one seat into another, huffing with exertion and exasperation as he grabbed his lifeless legs and hauled them into the foot rest of his wheelchair.

"It's not all." He breathed.

His chest still heaving heavily, Charles rolled round the side of the desk and grabbed an opened envelope. He handed it to Elsa, who took it with both hands.

Elsa's heart sank.

It was a letter of sorts, from the United States military, declaring the conscription of eligible staff and students at the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters for the war in Vietnam. Accompanying it, was a flier with the time honoured image of Uncle Sam. He stared out indiscriminately, with a finger pointed forward and the term 'I want you!' sitting beneath him.

"Most of the staff will be called up." Charles bemoaned, shaking his head. "Along with the entire graduating class."

Dozens upon dozens of faces flashed before her eyes. Young, vulnerable faces exchanging their pens for guns and donning the uniform of men, reeking of death, despair and pain.

But, rather selfishly, one face stood out in particular. A face she couldn't bear think about losing.

She had been hoping against hope that they would be left alone, that the government would conveniently forget about them. That the world would conveniently forget.

Elsa could feel her heart quickening in beat, a small knot of pain forming at her temples. They had been so careful, so hopeful, and now it would seem that it was all about to slip through their fingers.

AN: Argh! First of all, welcome to my new readers and a warm welcome back to my old ones! Thank you for taking a chance and opening up this story; I really appreciate it! I know this chapter didn't have a lot of 'action' in it, but we're only just starting.

For my new readers, this is a sequel to my story Never Again: Decima (Originally named just 'Never Again') and whilst its not entirely necessary to have read the first one, there is a lot of information and bits and pieces that were set out in the first story that are sort of integral to understanding this one; I highly recommend you read that too.

So...how did you find it? Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know!