I do not own X-Men Apocalypse.

But I'm giving this a whirl.

X-Men: Age of WTF

Hello, Moira

Cerebro.

Even after all this time, it was a thing of beauty to him.

Smooth, sleek.

Shiny.

Almost metallically reptilian in its perfection.

Hank McCoy soaked it in with pride for just a few seconds every time he was inside.

For maintenance or investigation.

Or inspiration for the Danger Room he dreamt of building.

The Danger Room he and Charles still clashed over.

"They are just children, Hank. They need to learn to control their powers, yes, but they should not use them against others."

"Charles, the world is a dangerous place for mutants-"

"Yes, I know this, Hank. That's why we have the school."

"-and they need to be prepared to defend themselves if the situation arises."

"Hank, they have been through enough. Let them be children."

"Charles, the world is unstable. There may come a time-"

"Yes, there may, Hank. But I will not turn innocent children into soldiers. Not until it is absolutely necessary. Please consider this discussion closed."

And that had been it.

For Charles.

Hank, on the other hand, had kept the topic on the back burner.

Drew up plans in his mind, lists of supplies.

And of course, more convincing arguements for the next go around.

As for now . . .

"Welcome, Professor."

. . . at the behest of Hank . . .

"I thought maybe you could take a look."

. . . they were going on a sort of psychic game of hide and seek.

To attempt to discover and evaulate the source of the energy spike.

Hank handed Charles the helmet.

"The source of the tremor came from Cairo."

And input the coordinates from his printout.

The gently swirling psychic visual display was, as always, somewhat discombobulating.

But Hank had gotten used to it over the years and instead focused in on the man himself.

Whose focus slowly evolved from a grim, determined single-mindedness.

"It's her."

To a soft, wistful longing.

"Who?"

Please not Mystique, please not Mystique, please not Mystique-

"Moira."

Oh, relief. Wait, what?

"Moira McTaggert?"

What's she doing in Cairo creating titanic energy surges?

"Give me the details!"

Is a mummy after her?

"She . . . she looks amazing. She's barely aged a day . . ."

Yeah, it seems to be a thing around here.

"No, I mean . . ."

Focus, you lovesick duck.

". . . what is she doing there? What does the CIA want with this?"

Charles seemed barely able to speak.

"She's going back to Langley to give her report."

But then continued speaking slowly, as if formulating his plan as he went along.

"I'm going there to see if she knows something about the tremor."

Why? You can just take the information from her mind. Ah yes, the respect of boundaries thing. And . . .

"And you want to see Moira."

Charles seemed to be stubbornly ignoring Hank's pointed looks in favor of a semblence of rigid pragmatism.

"I'm going to check her out."

But he wasn't exactly as high minded as he was attempting to appear.

Heehee.

"Check out the situation," the somewhat abashed telepath amended.

Oh yes, very straightforward nobility, sure, Chuck.

"Moira McTaggert," Hank voiced, still pleasantly surprised by the turn of events.

Didn't see that coming.

Charles really lucked out here.

But he didn't harbor any ill will against his friend, not really.

A chance to be, even temporarily, reunited with one's longlost . . .

Ahem, moving on.

"It's like a ghost from the past," Charles Xavier murmured, still mystified.

Yeah, those seem to be cropping up lately.

Neither of them had any idea.

Hank McCoy was looking forward to a good old-fashioned roadtrip.

Some Tab, maybe a package or two of Twinkies . . .

Of a purely scientific nature, of course.

"I'd like to go with you, Charles."

Charles Xavier shook his head with finality, oblivious to Hank's eagerness.

"No, Hank. I'm taking Alex with me."

To which the formerly monkey-toed mutant furrowed his brow.

"But I want to ask her about the tremor, how long the CIA has been-"

Professor Xavier interrupted him.

"Hank, I need you here. You are better versed in the comings and goings of the school."

Charles' voice resonated in his head now.

"And in Jean, should another episode present itself."

"I need you to stay here and assure all runs smoothly in my absence," he concluded aloud.

Hank sighed, excitement dashed in lieu of day to day responsibility.

Ugh, so I get to stay here like a good little watchdog and bark away the strangers.

But he really understood.

Alex grinned winningly, a little of his old snark coming back just for Hank's benefit.

"Don't worry, Bigfoot. I'll bring you back a souvenir."

Then he solemned as Charles Xavier rolled away to begin preparations.

"Seriously, though, I'll look after him. Make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble."

Hank nodded helplessly, grudgingly grateful to have another set of hands to watch over his friend and mentor.

As much as anyone could.

"And make sure he doesn't . . . you know . . . with Moira . . ."

Alex raised a knowing eyebrow.

"Get distracted and make an ass of himself? Yeah, no worries, man. I got it."

Hank smiled, genuinely this time.

"Thanks."

Alex nodded again.

"No problem."

Moira McTaggert.

With them from the beginning.

A very tenacious, very sincere, very earnest person of character.

Out to prove herself worthy of being one of the first female CIA agents.

Not because she was beautiful.

But because she was strong and smart.

And the best.

She wasn't there to be a pretty face.

Though she was.

And she wasn't there to flounce around.

Much to the disappointment of the young, self-assured 1963 Charles Xavier.

She was there to do her job. The best she could.

And Hank respected that.

She, of the weaker species of human, stood up to mutants with abilities she could not begin to fathom.

Going so far as to aim her gun and fire it at Erik Lensherr.

Who waved away her bullets with a flick of his hand.

One right into the back of her own friend, potential courter.

She had watched the dissolution of the first X-Men, witnessed its demise.

She had paced and paced the floor outside Charles' hospital room in emotional turmoil over her errant bullet.

And followed them back to the manor upon his release.

Tending to him every waking moment. Vigilant and gentle.

Until Charles had, with mental influence, made her leave.

For her own safety.

For theirs.

And though he had rarely spoken of it, Hank had known he had never forgotten her.

Moira McTaggert.

Wow.

Thanks to brigid1318 and her freedom! Thanks also to Muggleborn92 and your reviews!