Everyone can hear me, yes? Charles said.
Yes Professor.
Ja.
Got it.
Yes.
Yeah.
Yes Charles.
Hell yeah! Kinda weird though. I mean, do you hold conversations with Jean and Kevin like this all the time? Is that why you're always so quiet when I come in? Are you guys talking about me-?
Peter, Charles said, rubbing his forehead underneath Cerebro's helmet, The mission.
Yeah, yeah, got it.
Charles sighed, seeing his students in his mind's eye sneak through the halls of the Essex Industries facility. It was just outside of Boston, and it had been using above and beyond its normal energy amount for the past few weeks. And yet, it hadn't been making any deliveries of Essex's usual technology. It had been that way since two weeks after they'd rescued Moira.
It had been Moira herself who had noticed the numbers, scanning the unusual data surges from her room as she recovered. The day after they had returned to the Institute Charles had begun making a catalogue of Essex's holdings. anything with his name on it was added to the list of locations they were keeping an eye on, seeing if they showed up.
Moira had, given her years in surveillance, proved to be the most adept at this. But, her physical condition was still weakened. Even now he'd insisted she be away from Cerebro's cold halls and monitoring the radio chatter around the facility from his room. A phone lay next to him for her to call if she picked up anything unusual.
While she hadn't been as malnourished as Emma, she had certainly suffered from severe side affects. The first night he'd held her without the benefit of her pants, shirt and jacket, wearing a cotton nightdress instead, he'd realized just how much weight she'd lost. Hank had, when asked, told him she'd lost around 15 pounds, over the healthy weight loss for a month. Over the healthy weight loss for a woman carrying a child.
She'd been trying to gain that weight back, with mixed results. There were times that, even with Hank's careful supervision, Charles's incessant worrying, and Moira's own caution and clear head, she ate too much or not the right quantity. It had only been a week or two ago that she'd gotten off IVs at night.
Are you approaching the data banks? Charles asked.
Just about, Hank said, Peter, I need you to move past all that and then disable it so I can come in. Go in fast-
Hey, I listened to the briefings just as much as you did. I know what I have to do.
Charles saw Peter take off. A moment later, he felt the alarm blaring. It was what Hank had been afraid of, what he had warned Charles about. They hadn't really had another option though, since Kurt had to be on another level with Jean, surveying information on military contracts and getting into the vaults stored there. Peter had volunteered, and so they had decided to go ahead with the plan.
Apparently, it hadn't worked.
Good one "Quicksilver," Raven said.
Totally not my fault! Peter wailed.
Scott turned the dial on his goggles, blasting the two cameras which had suddenly turned in their direction. Hank rushed forward and began furiously clicking away, taking out a floppy disk. The rest of the X-men took on battle stations as Raven moved toward the security system, hacking it and trying to reroute guards and scramble signals.
The phone went off next to him. He picked it up.
"Radio chatter said the alarm went off next to the project data banks," Moira said, "It looks like they're sending about fifteen guards your way now."
Apparently that hadn't worked either.
"South entrance or north entrance?" he asked, trying to visualize the building.
"South."
He clicked off the phone and, with Cerebro, reached out. He hated using his gifts like this, let alone the machine Hank had built for him to find and help mutants, but he refused to be a passive member in his team. If he must send out his students to fight in the field, he could at least try and assist them.
The guards fell asleep before they were in two hundred yards of where the X-men were. However, he could feel other minds, and his own head was already pounding. This was going to take a while if they didn't get out soon.
I have a copy of the new design of what they're making, Hank said, It looks like a collar.
The type Emma said she had? asked Charles.
No. This is...different, Hank said, I'll have to take a closer look at my lab.
Fine, said Charles, Marvel, do you have what we need?
Yes, Jean replied, It's...it looks like genetic research. Odd genetic research, but Kurt and I are fine.
Good. Quicksilver, Nightcrawler, pull everyone out, Charles said.
Got it boss man.
Ja, of course.
Their minds moved and, by the time the next group of guards got there, the room was empty. A few minutes later, he got the confirming calls that his students were safe and sound in their rooms, although probably a little tired. He wouldn't be surprised if any of them fell asleep in class the next day.
He shut off Cerebro and picked up his phone. As he dialed Moira's number, he placed the clunky helmet back on the control panel. Working long distance like he had was stressful and he couldn't afford to get exhausted. If his students weren't up to going to class tomorrow, he, at least, had to keep up appearances.
"I've got some very frustrated guard chatter up here," Moira said, "I'm guessing they got out."
"Yes," Charles said, "It sounds like it went off successfully, although I'd have preferred it if Essex not know we were there."
He pushed himself out of Cerebro and into the hall.
"He'd have found out sooner or later," replied Moira, "It'll probably mean amped up security at the other facilities, but we don't know if they got a clear shot with the camera. We'll have to talk about it in the morning."
"Perhaps I should look over Hank's data right now," said Charles, getting into the elevator, "He said something about collars, and-"
"Charles, come to bed," Moira said, "You have a school to run you know, and Emma and Laura start classes tomorrow. You're talking to Erik for an update. You have to be up early for one and alert for both. Come to bed."
The elevator dinged and Charles pushed himself out. He clicked off the phone just as he reached his room, pushing the door open. Moira was seated on the bed, already in her night gown, with the phone pressed to her ear. When she saw him, she sighed and put it away. The radio beside her side of the bed was already switched off.
And it truly was her side of the bed. There had been nights for the first two weeks where she'd been in her son's room, in that twin bed that was placed next to him. But, after that, when Kevin had calmed down, she'd gotten her own room. Levine, who had helped smooth over her sudden reappearance with the CIA, had helped transfer her things to the school, and both she and her son were officially moved in.
But it was a room she barely used. Instead, she spent the nights in his arms, and he spent his with his face buried in her hair, his lips near her neck. She'd told him it was warm and comforting, that he acted as a back support.
For him, it was simply knowing she was there.
"It's rude to hang up you know," she said.
"It's rude to talk on the phone when I can do it in person," he replied.
He shrugged out of the sleeves of his bathrobe. It had felt odd to go down to Cerebro in his pajamas while the rest of the team went out in their uniforms, but if anyone saw him in the halls the pajamas would've looked less strange.
Charles maneuvered himself so he was right next to the bed. He started to heave himself onto it, but felt Moira's hands on his shoulders. He let himself be helped onto the mattress, but pulled the covers up himself.
It had been a long time since he'd resented his wheelchair to the degree he did now, and not because Moira was helping him into bed. Morning sickness was part of her daily routine now, and it was unpleasant. She'd admitted that it hadn't been this bad with Kevin. Hank had assured him it was just a lingering effect of her time in captivity, that it would most likely abate after she got more vitamins in her system and her body regained the weight she'd lost.
That had been weeks ago. Hank said a lot of what she was experiencing now was likely to be the actual pregnancy. Since it had been easy to pinpoint the day of the child's conception, they had managed to keep good track of the child's progression.
And right now, they were still causing plenty of stomach problems for their mother. So, almost every morning for the past month and a half since they rescued her, Moira had woken him up fleeing to the small bathroom.
Especially in the beginning Charles had tried to go after her and help, hold her hair away from her face, put a comforting hand on her back. By the time he'd made it into his wheelchair and halfway to the bathroom, she'd already be out.
It made him feel helpless, and she'd quietly told him that she preferred him to remain in bed, keep it warm for when she returned. It was a small comfort. Having her help him into the bed was a slightly smaller humiliation, but one he could contend with.
He laid down, positioning himself so he was on his side. Moira turned off the light and followed suit, snuggling close to him. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head as close as he dared.
Softly, Charles planted a kiss behind her ear. It still seemed so strange to be able to glory in the feeling of her there, after so many weeks searching for her. She was safe, unharmed, the flesh was returning to her body, and their child growing daily.
Moira turned and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back gently, trying to restrain herself from deepening it. They did, after all, have school in the morning. When they pulled away, she just smiled at him before turning back so her hair brushed up against his face again.
She let out a long, soft sigh next to him. He would've taken it for a note of contentment, but something was off.
"Something wrong love?" he asked.
"Just a headache," she said, "The guards did a lot of shouting. If they were trained better they wouldn't have had to all speak at once, but it was probably good for us they weren't a perfect military unit."
"I agree with that," he said, "But I could help, if you'd let me."
Moira nodded, and he pushed himself up slightly. One of his hands touched the side of her head. He pressed in slightly, feeling the tense knot of pain in her head. Then, slowly, surely, he soothed it, letting it come undone.
She grinned, and Charles was about to move his hand away when he felt something through their connection. It was like a tap on the shoulder only, if possible, lighter. He would've thought it was something she was trying to say, but it seemed like it was coming from somewhere else.
A single whisper, asking to be recognized.
The grin froze in place on Moira's face, her eyes, like his, drifting down to where her hand rested on her stomach. No. It couldn't be. And yet, Charles felt his heart move into his throat.
"What…what was that…?" he managed.
"I felt the baby Charles," she murmured, "I felt them move. They..."
Her voice ended in a choked laugh. He leaned back down and rested his head on the pillow next to her. His hand moved from her forehead to her stomach, twining with her hand. The flesh of her belly was there now, but the presence of their child was still a secret to most. She wasn't even showing yet.
And yet, what he had felt. That small, soft touch. For a moment, neither of them said anything, each in rapture, focused on the small life that had moved for the first time, announcing their presence.
It seemed incredible. Had it really been a month since she'd been returned to him? Since he had shattered a man in his mental battle ground, screaming that he would never touch those he loved.
Breathing slowly, Charles held her a little closer.
"I love you," he said at last.
"I love you too Charles," she murmured.
A/N: And I'm back everyone! I would like to start off this chapter by thanking KarateGirl70 for helping me with some of the pregnancy specifics you'll be reading about in this story. They're a labor and delivery nurse and have been a great help!
