This chapter and the next were originally all one chapter but then it started getting ridiculously long and I decided to split it into two. So, I apologise for the slightly odd point at which this chapter ends.

This week's question: Moira and Raven are hard to write! How do you think I'm doing with these two ladies?

XXXXXX

Chapter Nine

When she comes across the three, supposedly adult, mutants curled up against each other like a litter of puppies Moira isn't sure whether to smile or roll her eyes. They make quite the picture and the temptation to sneak back into the mansion and find a camera is large, but so is the mansion and she has no idea where to even look for a camera. So instead, she settles for leaning down and shaking them awake before the kids come outside and find them.

"Well, this is embarrassing…" Charles mutters as he drifts back to consciousness and realises where he is.

"Could be worse," Natalie points out dryly, her eyes still half closed. "At least we've still got our clothes on…"

Erik snorts at that and sits up rubbing at the crick in his neck.

"What were you doing out here last night anyway?" Moira asks genuinely bewildered. The three mutants share a look, not really sure how to explain what happened – it's not exactly something that can be described in words.

"Sharing grief." Is the explanation that Natalie finally gives and to their surprise Moira accepts that explanation with a nod and a smile of understanding; as if from those two words she really does comprehend exactly what happened between the three of them last night, and, maybe she does, she is a very perceptive woman.

"The kids will be up soon." Moira points out. "You might want to go and change before they start making assumptions about why you're still wearing yesterday's clothes." There's a hint of amusement tinting her voice.

The three mutants share a look and without any telepathic communication jointly reach the conclusion that while there's nothing actually wrong with the three of them still being in last night's clothes, Moira probably has a point. Besides, nobody really wants to spend two days in the same clothes if they can avoid it.

XXXXXX

After months on the run from the Sentinels, being able to strip off last night's clothes and step into a hot shower is a luxury Natalie no longer takes for granted. She savours the feeling of warm water flowing over her body, as it eases the ache from muscles protesting at having spent the night sleeping in such an unnatural position. Except, of course, it's not really her body: it's Courtney's. She tries not to think about that. She has a future to change; she doesn't have time to deal with body dysphoria on top of everything else. So, she pushes it to the back of her head and thinks about other things, doesn't dwell on the fact that this body doesn't feel right, that the arms are too short or that the hips too small or that the weight (what little of it there is) is distributed differently or the million other discrepancies between the body she grew up in and this one that she's stolen from a dead woman. She tries not to think about it. But sometimes it's a difficult truth to ignore. For example, when she reaches for something and, misjudging the distance, drops it, or when she turns a corner wrong and catches her elbow on the wall… or when she goes to step out of the shower and misjudges the length of Courtney's stride…

Stepping out of the shower, it's something she's done a thousand times before. But, not in this body…

As her foot comes down it catches and twists on the edge of the shower instead of landing safe on the floor as she'd intended. She snaps out an arm to steady herself but gets the distance wrong and misses. Gravity takes over and she tumbles to the floor. Her knees crack down on the hard tiles and in her old body she would have been able to halt the fall there. But, this isn't her body. Hands go out to stop her descent but somehow she gets it wrong again, one wrist twists painfully and she slips sideways cracking her head against the wall.

Stars dance in her vision and for a second everything goes black.

It all happens so fast. One moment she's upright and the next she's a tangled mess of throbbing limbs. After her vision clears she just lies there, reeling from the suddenness of the fall. After a moment she pushes herself into a sitting position, rests her back against the wall, and discovers that not only has she twisted her wrist and her ankle but she has cracked her head hard enough against the wall that she's now dripping blood onto the floor.

She wants to sigh: it's so stupid; slipping getting out of the shower.

And then there's the sound of people running along the corridor towards the bathroom and she just wants to swear. Of course, Charles, with his stupid, unnecessary and frankly annoying saviour complex has picked up on the pain of Natalie's fall and come running in like the exasperating hero that he thinks he is, to save the damsel in distress. And, she knows she's being unreasonable but everything hurts, including her pride and she's pissed and frustrated that something as simple as having a shower has suddenly become so hazardous.

The footsteps have stopped; Charles must be outside the door now.

From her position on the floor Natalie sees the lock on the inside of the door start to turn – so, Erik's there too.

"Don't come in!" She snaps angrily.

The handle stops.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Charles' voice is laced with concern and for some reason that just irritates Natalie even more; she is not some useless young woman who needs Charles to barge in and save her– dammit, she survived seven months on the run from the sentinels! She is quite capable of looking after herself (she pointedly ignores the fact that she's currently a bundle of bruised limbs on the bathroom floor).

"I'm fine!" She snaps back at Charles, despite all evidence to the contrary. "Just slipped getting out of the shower."

The lock starts to turn again.

"Don't!" This time as well as the verbal command she throws a mental instruction at them to stay out!

The lock stops turning.

"You're bleeding." Charles points out – and of course he wouldn't respect her privacy enough to stop himself from checking up on her. Though it appears the shock of the fall has shaken loose some of Natalie's mental shields – he shouldn't have been able to pick up on the fact she's bleeding - or maybe her shields aren't as strong as she thought they were, after all telepathy and empathy are subtly different and she's only been a telepath for a few days... "One of us should come in there and make sure you haven't concussed yourself, or broken anything…" He's being reasonable; Natalie knows he is, nevertheless…

"Charles, I slipped getting out of the shower. If either you or Erik come through that door I will personally make sure that you spend the rest of the week thinking you are five years old!"

"Natalie…" Charles starts to argue.

"Getting out of the shower…" She repeats, emphasising the last word, hoping Charles will get her point without her having to spell it out. Because, from where she's sat, awkwardly propped up against the wall, Natalie can see her towel and dressing gown, lying just out of reach, and whenever she tries to move her head starts pounding. She hates to admit it, but she does need help, and while she's not shy about her body (being on the run with the remains of the Xavier Institute left little space for privacy and even less for being self-conscious about the lack of privacy), this isn't her body and the whole situation is just so undignified that the last thing her battered pride needs is Charles' pity or Erik's amusement at finding her naked and bruised on the bathroom floor.

There's a brief silence as her meaning sets in. "I'll get Moira to come up." Charles says eventually, his voice tight with embarrassment. Natalie can feel Erik's amusement through the door, though whether it's at her situation or at Charles' reaction to it she can't be completely sure. For the sake of her own temper she decides to assume it's the latter.

"Thank you!" She says shortly, leaning her head back against the cold wall, closing her eyes and hoping the throbbing in her head will fade soon.

It feels like a lifetime later when Moira slips in through the door, first aid kit in hand. The CIA agent wordlessly picks up the towel as she passes it and hands it to a grateful Natalie. As Moira checks Natalie over in silence, Natalie finds herself relaxing slightly: Moira's calm, professional, manner is soothing on Natalie's frayed temper.

"Well, nothing appears to be broken," Moira says after a several minutes of careful inspection. "And, it doesn't look like you have a concussion, just a few bruises and a couple of sprains."

"And a battered ego." Natalie adds under her breath.

Moira frowns. "What happened?" And, when Moira asks that question it doesn't nettle Natalie's pride.

Natalie sighs and starts to push herself up into standing position before being stopped by a firm hand from Moira, who insists on wrapping a supportive bandage around her sprained wrist and ankle first.

"I slipped getting out of the shower." Natalie explains, as Moira starts to unravel the bandages from the first aid kit. It's a sparse explanation and the look Moira gives Natalie makes it clear that the CIA agent is well aware that there is more to it than that. But, she doesn't say anything, just sets about bandaging Natalie's ankle and waits for the empath to crack under the strain of the silence.

Natalie doesn't say anything for a long time. She watches as Moira carefully and professionally bandages her ankle and then starts to work on her wrist. Eventually Natalie bites her lip and lets out a breath. "This isn't my body." She says in a small voice. Moira glances up at her but doesn't say anything, just waits patiently as Natalie tries to find the words to explain. "It's not the body I grew up in, and it's so different, I keep dropping things or tripping. I just want my old body back, my old life back, back from before the world went to hell! But I can't have it back, I can't go back. That future is gone now and I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life in this body, in this time, and I don't know if I can do it. I'm supposed to be saving the world, but I can't even get out of the shower without injuring myself!" It all pours out in a jumbled, emotional, rant and Natalie hates that, hates that she appears weak and emotional, vulnerable.

"I'm sorry." Natalie apologises as Moira's silence stretches on. "You didn't need to hear all that."

The other woman frowns and sits back on her heels. "Don't apologise." She says firmly. "After everything you've been through you don't need to apologise for complaining a bit. But you're wrong: you're not the one who's supposed to be saving the world," Natalie looks up and frowns, about to say something, when Moira holds up her hand and finishes what she was going to say, "we're all supposed to be saving the world. Don't take this burden all on yourself, let us help you. Trust us."

Natalie smiles wryly. "It's not that I don't trust you…"

"… but you don't trust us." Moira finishes with a matching smile.

Natalie laughs softly. "More I don't trust Erik and Charles not to be idiots."

"They'll pull through." Moira says firmly.

"I know," Natalie agrees sombrely. "But… well I need to be sure."

Moira nods in understanding. "You can't help them if you don't look after yourself, though."

"I'll try not to fall out of any more showers." Natalie assures her in her driest tone.

"That's not what I meant."

Natalie looks up, frowning.

"You can't keep bottling everything up, hiding it away and not expect to explode at some point. And the last thing we need at the moment is for you to explode."

Natalie stares at Moira, momentarily speechless and feeling strangely disorientated: Natalie should be the one saying things like that; she's the empath, or she was before she switched Courtney's power for her own, and she was always the one preaching about accepting your emotions, respecting them and living with them rather than suppressing them – when did she lose that? Was it during the war? Was it when David died? She isn't sure, it might have been a gradual thing, but it's one more part of herself that she's lost. And this part is one that she knows she'll need to get back at some point.

Either Moira's misunderstood Natalie's silence or she's decided to ignore it, because after a moment the CIA agent offers another piece of advice: "Have you considered talking to Raven? If anyone could understand what it's like to be walking around in a body that's not their own, she would."

Natalie continues to stare at Moira, though this time in surprise with more than a hint of thoughtful: that might not be such a bad idea.

XXXXXX

The knock on Raven's bedroom door is timid. So, when the shape-shifter opens the door to find Natalie standing on the other side she is somewhat surprised: up until this point the woman has been everything but timid. There is a moment of awkward silence as Natalie shifts uncomfortably, before the telepath finally voices her reason for being there: "Can I borrow some clothes? I've run out. I mean Moira bought me some when we were at the CIA base, but she only picked up one set of spare stuff when we left. I know I could just wash it, obviously, but it seems a bit ridiculous to have to wash stuff every other day, so I thought I'd just come and ask if you had anything I could borrow."

By the time Natalie has finished her rambling explanation Raven is staring at her like she's grown a second head: rambling and unsure are not words Raven would have ever have thought to associate with the woman standing in front of her, at least not before today.

"Um, sure." Raven feels herself thrown by Natalie's uncharacteristic behaviour. "Why don't you come in, and I'll see what I can find?" Raven waves Natalie into the room, and the telepath takes the offered perch on the bed while Raven makes her way over to the wardrobe.

"What about this?" Raven asks pulling a black and white dress out of the wardrobe and holding it up for Natalie to see.

Natalie shrugs, her face twisting into a rueful grin. "I honestly don't know. I'm not exactly used to dressing this body."

Raven frowns, she hadn't thought about that, hasn't really considered that Natalie is wearing Courtney's body, hasn't stopped and thought about what that really means. She hesitates, knowing it's a question that it probably isn't polite to ask, but she just can't help herself: "What did you use to look like?"

Natalie just looks at her for a moment, her face not quite frowning, and then wordlessly she pushes herself up off the bed and walks over to the full length mirror hiding in the corner of the room. She stops in front of it and then without saying a word, or turning to look at Raven, the telepath holds out a hand to the shape-shifter. Raven puts the dress down, crosses the room and puts her hand in Natalie's. Then she turns to face the mirror.

For a moment it shows their reflection; the blonde Raven and the Brown-Haired Natalie, and then Natalie's reflection changes and shifts. It grows taller, fuller, grows in every direction until in place of the skinny, brown-haired, wraith is a curvy, bubbly, blonde woman. She smiles and her blue eyes sparkle in her round face, the dressing gown has disappeared and she is wearing a dress that wouldn't look too out of place in the 1950s; full skirted and strap-less, but the forget-me-not blue makes it look fresh and bright – makes her look bright and alive. For a brief moment that bright Natalie smiles and swings her skirt, and then she shifts again, shifts and fades and shrinks, drops the puppy fat, loses unhealthy amounts of weight and gains lines under her eyes and all across her face: lines that tell too many tales of stress and pain. There's a AK-47 slung over one shoulder and the trousers and jacket she's wearing have no distinguishing features other than that they're indistinguishable underneath the mud and stains (some of which look suspiciously like blood). This Natalie isn't smiling, she's staring straight ahead, eyes intense and frightened. She stares at Raven for a moment and then she's gone and Raven is once again looking at the Natalie she recognises; the Natalie that used to be Courtney Stevens.

There's a very long silence and then Natalie drops Raven's hand and turns her back on the shape shifter – on the shape shifter and the mirror.

"I'm sorry." Raven apologises to Natalie's back, in a small voice.

Natalie turns back to face the shape-shifter. She forces a thin smile and shrugs. "Don't apologise. It was a fair question."

"No it wasn't."

Natalie smiles again, and this time it is genuine smile: soft and sad. "No it wasn't. But I don't mind you asking" Perching herself back down on the edge of the bed, Natalie looks over at Raven, her gaze now piercingly intense. "Now, fair's fair, why don't you show me what you really look like?"

Raven frowns, suddenly very self-conscious, but, after what she has just asked of Natalie, it's not really a request Raven can refuse. So, Raven turns away slightly, so she's no longer looking straight at Natalie – and so she can no longer see her reflection in the mirror – and she changes. She lets go of her concentration, her control and lets her body slip back to her natural shape, her natural shade. It's a strange feeling, like she's just taken off a suit of armour, like she's suddenly exposed – she might still be wearing a dress, but Raven feels suddenly naked.

"Do you like how you look?" Natalie asks the question neutrally after several seconds of Raven not quite looking at her.

Raven frowns and turns to face Natalie, suddenly annoyed. "I'm blue." She says flatly.

"And?" Natalie asks blandly as if she can't see the problem with being blue.

"I'm blue! I look like a monster, like something mothers would use to scare their children!"

Natalie frowns at that. "I think you're exaggerating somewhat." She stands up and gently taking a hold of the young woman's shoulder turns her to face the mirror. Natalie stands next to Raven as the two women study Raven's reflection – she is very definitely blue. "A hundred years ago" Natalie says slowly, "pale skin was considered beautiful, nowadays tanned skin is what women strive for. In ancient China small feet and large eyes were necessary for a woman to be considered beautiful, in Ancient Egypt it was a high waist and narrow shoulders, in the renaissance it was a rounded stomach and full hips, while in the roaring twenties it was a boyish figure that was most desired. The meaning of "beautiful" has changed depending where you are in the world and what time in history it is. Beauty is a social construct. And right now this country is going through a lot of social changes: the civil rights movement, Second-Wave feminism. People's attitudes towards lots of things are going to change over the coming years, don't assume they can't also change to accommodate you as well."

"I thought you said that in the future humans were at war with mutants – that doesn't sound very accommodating to me."

"Yes, well," Natalie tries not to frown, because really Raven does have a bit of a point though not as much of a point as she thinks she does. "The early Mutants' Right movement went about things the wrong way," – Erik went about things the wrong way – "Some humans became convinced we were a threat. Not all by a long shot, many humans supported us, fought with us… died with us…" Natalie takes a breath, a brief pause to push down the tears before they can well up at the thought of one particular human. "But, well, enough of them felt threatened by us..." Natalie trails off slightly, takes another breath and then looks directly at Raven. "It's not going to happen that way this time though, I won't let it." There is steel in those last few words and Raven feels a brief thrill of fear, fear and respect: It is clear that Natalie will do everything she can to protect mutantkind, to ensure they are accepted into society and how can Raven not respect that?

"How are you going to stop it?"

"We should focus on stopping Shaw from a starting a nuclear war before we start looking that far ahead." Natalie brushes off Raven's question, pushes it away for now, because in all honesty she hasn't thought that far ahead! Ever since David died she's been acting on instinct pure and simple: she knows that by coming back in time she can save the future but as for how she'll go about preventing the war with the Sentinels…. God she doesn't know! She really hasn't thought this through! She's supposed to be saving the world and it turns out she's making it up as she goes along! Lord alive, what she needs is time. Time to sit and think, to plan and work out what to do and really it's not such a problem that she hasn't thought things through yet: they have years before Trask Industries starts the Sentinel Program. What they need to focus on for the moment is Shaw and Cuba. Unfortunately, Raven doesn't see it that way….

"How are we going to stop humans thinking mutants are a threat?" Raven repeats, though this time Natalie notices the use of the word 'we' instead of 'you' and she pauses before brushing off the question for a second time: there's a look in Raven's eyes that makes Natalie want to frown. It's a look that's equal parts respect, hope and a burning desire to do something, be something… to belong…

It's a look that in another future Raven levelled at Erik.

That realisation hits Natalie like a stab of victory because keeping Raven from joining Erik's Mutant Brotherhood is as important as making sure Erik doesn't found it in the first place. And, if in this future Raven transfers her respect, her loyalty, to Natalie instead of Erik then Natalie can steer her away from extremism, keep her on the right path, make sure she does the right thing. The sense of victory is snuffed out: she's considering manipulating a young woman, for the 'greater good' – how does that make Natalie any better than Erik? Yes, Natalie likes to think she would keep Raven from becoming a cold blooded killer. But, in all honesty Natalie knows her own morals have been compromised by the war: Can she really guarantee that she won't become like Magneto?

"Natalie?"

Natalie blinks and realises that she's been quiet, been lost in her thoughts, for too long. "Sorry." She says. "I drifted off for a moment there: there's a lot going on in my head at the moment."

Raven nods slowly, though with a slight frown: a tendency to drift off is not a trait you really want in someone trying to save your species… "I asked how you were going to stop human from thinking that mutants are a threat…"

Natalie notices the return to 'you' rather than 'we' and resists the urge to sigh: one step forward, another step back…