Chapter 3

"I held your hand until the light

The scars were on the back

And all the time we were the right

Was it just retract?" Broken Social Scene

"So are you going to man up, or are you just going to be a pussy about this like always?" Alex asks Sean as they sit on the couch, and pretend to watch the television. It's so that they kill a couple of hours before they have to go down to the kitchen, and start making supper. Neither Alex or Sean really likes the afternoon soaps that much. Moira's upstairs in her room, Raven and Angel are outside, and Hank has sequestered himself in his lab. Azazel and Riptide are hiding in the library, Charles is in his den, and Erik...they know where Erik is. His position hasn't changed in the last couple of months. So by default, it's up to them to keep everybody fed, since it seems that they're the only ones with a lick of sense when it comes to manouvering in the kitchen.

"Yeah, thanks for pep talk, Alex. You really know how build up a guy." Sean shoots back, parrying the question weakly. He shifts about on the sofa and turns his gaze away from the television,finally looking at his friend. Alex's got his eyes on the television, but Sean can tell he's not really watching. He's waiting for Sean to make the next move. They know the conversation was going to happen eventually. Alex shares a room with Sean, and there's very little that they don't talk know about each other. Besides, Sean knows that Alex is getting fed up of the constant inactivity of everyone in the house in regards to those kinds matters. Incarceration had taught him patience, something he grudgingly practiced, but didn't necessarily enjoy. So Sean knows that if he doesn't get on with it, Alex will probably make the decision for him.

"Am I that obvious? About Moira, I mean?" He whispers, making Alex frown as he concentrates on the question.

"The only reason she's not seeing it is because she's too caught up in her own bullshit. Just like the Prof, Hank, Raven, and almost everyone else in this fucking place." He snorts and shakes his head, the frown turning itself into a mirthless smile.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried. So you'd better think of making a move before she snaps out of it and makes it pointless to even think about. And then you're going to be the same as everyone else here." Alex points out. Although the words in themselves are harsh, his tone is simply matter of fact and that is what makes Sean really listen to his friend and weigh his words carefully.

"What if she says no, or that I'm too young or something?" Sean asks, his eyes swiftly moving over Alex's face as he looks for the answer that he wants to see.

"Better to know than to torture yourself and creeping the shit out of her during mealtimes and when she's watching the soaps." Alex replied, making Sean give out an indignant "Hey!".

"It's true, so don't even try to be indignant and deny it. So talk to her." Alex orders, punching him before he turns his attention back to the television.

"Or I'll do it for you and I can't guarantee that won't turn out in your favour."

"Tell me again why we're friends?"

"We're the only ones without massive emotional issues and can interact more with normal society despite the fact that you're socially inept and I'm an ex-convict."

"Right. I'll talk to her after dinner tonight then. I need that much time to get myself psyched up."

"Sounds good. We got half an hour to figure out who the father is in this Guiding Light episode."

Moira covers her mouth with her hands as she reads the letter that had just arrived with the afternoon mail for the seventh time. Reading it again doesn't change what is written on that heavy stock cream paper with its official letterhead stamped on the upper left hand side.

"Dear Agent McTaggart, After much thought and deliberation, we have reached a decision and we are writing to inform you that despite your outstanding efforts in the field, your services are no longer required. You will receive a full pension for your efforts. Thank you again for your service and we wish you well. Best regards."

All that work and and effort and it had ended up with a letter and a re-evaluation of her life and she wasn't even thirty yet. She honestly had believed that she would have moved up the ranks with her hard work and digilence. Never had she thought that she would have been quietly pensioned out due to her involvement in discovering mutants or stopping the next world war as plotted by a madman and nearly carried out by a traumatized and scarred survivor that she only just managed to stop by taking a chance that had luckily worked out in her favour.

As she recalled the bullets she had palmed off Joe Kinross in the ballistics department with promises of dinner at a later time (yes, she hated to fall back on her gender to get favours, but sometimes there had been simply no other way to achieve her goals. Besides, the end result was always worth the irritation of a few moments) she didn't think that they would have worked. It was all too new, the science and prototypes cutting edge, but she had to try. Joe did eventually get his dinner before she had been placed on leave and Moira only now wishes that she had thanked him much more profusely for giving her those bullets. He is never going to know what part he played in saving the world and Moira wishes that she could tell him, but it's too late to change that now.

But it had happened. She couldn't change anything, no matter how much she would have wanted to. She now needs to plan what comes next. What she needs to do after the period of mourning is over, because she knows that she needs to do that much before she goes on with her life.

Although Charles wouldn't mind if she stayed with him and helped out with his plan of creating a school for mutant children, she doesn't know if she wants to stay. Especially not now that Erik was awake and if she knew anything about the man, probably after her blood.

No. There was more reason for her to leave than to stay. She knows that even if Charles managed to talk some sense into Erik, her continued presence there would be antagonistic and a reminder of both his failure and of how his life was changed irreparably. Even with Charles at his side, Moira doesn't think that Erik would get over her shooting him to stop the end of the world. She won't stay any longer than she has to.

Now the only thing left is to build up the courage to tell Charles of her decision and deflect any of the objections that she knows Charles will throw her way to dissuade her to leave.

Having made up her mind, she looks at the letter again and puts it back in the envelope and shoving it into the desk drawer. She doesn't need to look at it again, now that she's got her answer. At the very least, she's gotten an answer after months of waiting and that is a relief in itself.

"Thank goodness for small blessings." Moira sighs,pushing herself away from the desk and standing up. Her back is cramped up from sitting at the desk and she needs to loosen the muscles. She adds getting something to eat on her list when her stomach makes an embarrassing growling noise reminding her that she hadn't had much to eat after her sandwich with Charles hours ago.

"Moira, Um...Ms. McTaggert? It's Sean. Uh. Supper's ready if you want to have something to eat."
The hesistance of Sean Cassidy's statement touches and amuses her at the same time; since he's still skitterish toward her, even though they have literally gone through the end of the world together. She knows though, that it is partly her fault, since she hasn't really tried to breach that divide to assure him that she's perfectly harmless and that he need not be so nervous and twitchy around her.

She knows that it's partly because of the atmosphere around the mansion that he's been like that and she winces as it finally hits her how basically all of the adults have been so pre-occupied. Charles with Erik, Janos and Azazel with their own issues, Hank in his lab and Raven and Angel clinging to each other while she brooded over her future. Alex could take care of himself, she was well aware of that fact. Hank and the others could muddle, but Sean...exactly how old was Sean? Probably not much older than Alex, chronologically speaking. But mentally, she was sure that he was much younger than that.

Moira feels herself blushing in shame as she realizes that out of all of them, Sean is probably the one less used to being on his own. She wasn't there when Charles and Erik had picked him up, but she had gathered from Charles that Sean's homelife wasn't exactly great, but he had had more of a home than the others did. Brothers and sisters and cousins had made the bulk of his family and Charles had suspected that Sean had been more of a father than brother to all of them, but it was still a family and it is amazing that he's managed to keep his naiviety for that long under those circumstances. All of this comes back and she tries to compose herself so that she doesn't outright bawl when she opens the door and sees Sean.

She takes a deep breath and opens the door, determined that from that day forth, she's not going to shunt him aside. Yes, she can mourn. But the self-pity and isolation is over and done with. Sean and Alex may have learned to be self-sufficient, but that doesn't mean that they haven't been lonely.

"Hi Sean. Thanks for letting me know. Do you need help setting the table? Or to tell the others?" She asked, offering her help to the gangly youth that was standing in the hallway with bright pink cheeks and darting eyes.

"No. I mean...Alex's is telling the others. He...uhm...he suggested that I come and uhm...escort you, yeah, escort you to the table." Sean explains, his eyes bright and wide as he finally dares to look at Moira's face.

It is that look and the naked expression of hope/want/need that finally does her in. He reminds her so much of Charles when he had brought Erik home-the same lost and bewildered look and the need for someone to tell him that it was all going to be allright somehow. It was bad enough to see that expression on a grown man. But it was even worse seeing it on someone that shouldn't have to face such cruelties for at least a few years more. She wants to cry. She really does. But she pushes it all down and instead smiles at him, all the while promising herself she's going to do better by him.

"Oh. Oh. Well, in that case, I'd be honoured. Thank you."

Although she feels she's a little stiff in the way she says it, the way that Sean's face lights up puts any doubts to rest for her. She's done the right thing and that eases the guilt and sadness substantially.

"Okay. Well, okay. Cool. We're having chicken tonight, with salad..."

Moira only smiles and nods at the appropriate moments and realizes that maybe she shouldn't have put off getting back into living for so damned long. Even though Sean is young, it is this exact thing that makes everything not quite as dark as before.

Charles is sitting at his desk, pen scribbling across fresh white pages as he edits a long neglected article he's delayed publishing, but can't delay any longer. He closes his eyes and sends out a gentle probe throughout the mansion. Everyone is accounted for. They are all gathered in the living room, watching the soaps. Well some are. Janos and Azazel are still sequestered in the library and Angel and Raven are walking around outside. Moira is sitting in her room, staring out the window and brooding over the latest letter she has gotten from the bureau. She is despondent and lost and he makes a mental note to talk to her as soon as he possibly can spare the time. He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes as he brushes by Erik's mind lightly and breathes a sigh of relief at finding him deeply asleep, just like he has found him the last couple of times that he has telepathically checked on him.

The morning had worn him out completely and he hadn't shown any sign of stirring. Even after the nurse had long come and gone, Erik still remained asleep. Charles knows that Erik needs to sleep to recover, but he can't help but to be impatient with the situation. Especially when he needs to address the elephant in the room. That being Erik's physical injuries.

He sighs heavily and puts his pen down. He rubs his eyes and covers his mouth as he tries to reconcile the cold hard facts and the best way of delivering the news to Erik without alienating him.

Charles knows how important being mobile was to he needs to be up and ready to not show any weakness lest he give his opponents an advantage. He needed a sound and healthy body to flee and to get his revenge. His entire perception of his self is tied in how well his body serves him and now that has been taken away from him...

Charles gnaws on his bottom lip as he recalls the list of injuries that the doctor had given him that day as he had stood there with red-rimmed eyes and Moira practically holding him up. Nicked lung, broken ribs, internal bleeding, gunshot wounds, and a break between the two vertebra in Erik's lower back. The other injuries they had been optimistic in that they would heal.

Even without reading the doctor's mind, he had known that the other one would not, swelling or no swelling of the spine. He had enough experience with expressions to know that the doctor's holding back simply because he doesn't want to detract from the good news that Erik has survived being shot. He admits now that he had forgotten it all when Erik had lapsed into a coma, but now that Erik was awake...he has to come up with a proper approach and hope for the best.

He wants to plan the scenarios out. He is even slightly tempted to influence Erik's mind when the time comes. But he banishes that thought as quickly as it comes. No. He has his limits and he insitinctively knows that if he were to nudge Erik's mind, he could very well lose him forever. No.

He scrubs his face wearily with his hand and looks down at the edits he has made. He's got about three more pages to go and he wants to get the work done by the end of the week at least. He's not going to get it finished painting himself in another corner trying to figure out how a conversation he's not yet had will go. Despite what is going on in his personal life, he needs to work. And hopefully while he works, he'll be able to find the elusive answer to his dilemma.

Charles has just picked up his pen again and is just fixing up another mistake he's just spotted when what feels like a railroad spike drives itself into his brain.

He exclaims in pain and closes his eyes as his pen drops from his nerveless fingers. The metal in his study is vibrating rapidly enough to make noise and that spurs him to rush to Erik's room.

"Erik! Erik! Calm your mind! Erik! Please!" Charles begs as he stumbles down the hallway and forces Erik's shock/anger/despair/agony out of his mind as he enters the room to finally have the conversation he cannot put off any longer.

The metal is vibrating and some pieces have warped in Erik's distress. But none have been shaped into weapons, Charles is relieved to note.

"Charles? What's going on with Erik? Should we come up?" Moira asks him and it is all he can do to not push her out and freeze her mentally. Her coming up to the room would create more problems, especially now that Erik is awake and looking at him with an expression of mute shock and rage as he looks down at his paralyzed legs, the covers having been torn off and flung carelessly to the floor. The sight of them is unnerving to Charles also, but he has to press on. He can dwell on his feelings later. Right now, he needs to calm Erik down and start some kind of dialogue.

"No! Stay with everyone downstairs! I don't think your presence will help. Especially not now that Erik's found out the extent of his injuries."

He can feel Moira's gasp and her quick assent before she slips out of his mind. He appreciates that, since he now has to deal with a loudly projecting Erik and metal being twisted and destroyed in his agitation.

"There's nothing to be done, is there?" Erik asks him, his voice harsh and ragged as he speaks and simply by speaking, he stops projecting so strongly and Charles is able to regain full control of himself.

"No. The impact and the bullets made sure of that." Charles replies as he moves into the room and sits down on the chair next to Erik's bed.

He wants to offer sympathy, but knows that if he does, it will be seen as pity and that is something that Erik won't abide. So he remains quiet, waiting for Erik to make the next move. His next move is to focus on all the metal and bring it back to normal, righting it to its proper dimensions before he speaks.

"So what happens after this?" He asks Charles, his gaze stubbornly fixed on his legs as if by keeping his focus on them, he can accept his changed circumstances and move on.

"I don't know. I only know that it won't be without friends, Erik." Charles replies slowly.

Erik nods, as if he had already expected that answer to come from Charles.

"I know. But right now, I need-"

"No. I won't leave. No matter what you say or do. You shouldn't be alone and I won't leave. I didn't leave before, I'm not about to do it now. So don't ask."

Erik laughs, but it's a dry rasp of a laugh.

"It's not going to be comfortable, being here with me."

"I know."

"Very well then. Stay."

It's not a ringing endorsement, but coming from such a prickly and proud man, it's enough for Charles.