Charles was preparing to indulge in a treasured ritual when there was a knock at his study door. He shut his eyes and reached out gently for the presence, smiled as he registered a friend.
"Come in Madeline."
Madeline came in, shutting the door behind her with unwonted care. He grinned at her, waved her into the chair across his desk.
"Good evening my dear. Please bear with me a moment – there's just a little something that I need to do, and then you'll have my full attention." He fiddled with the dial of his wireless. "You might enjoy this."
She looked at him without comprehension. Suddenly, the crackle and hiss resolved itself into a tune – stately but sprightly, ponderous but enchanting. Charles leaned his head back on the rest of his wheelchair, eyes closing in pleasure at the familiar sound. After three minutes, it faded away, and a cut-glass British voice began to recite:
"Viking, southeast 4 or 5, becoming variable 2 or 3. Slight, occasionally moderate at first. Showers at first, fog patches. Moderate or good, occasionally very poor. North Utsire, South Utsire, variable 3 or 4. Smooth or slight. Fair. Good. Forties variable 3 or 4. Slight. Fog banks. Moderate, occasionally very poor. Cromarty, variable becoming east 3 or 4, occasionally 5 later…"
Charles opened his eyes again, saw Madeline was looking at him in complete bewilderment. He almost giggled.
"What is it?" she asked.
"The Shipping Forecast. British institution. The sailors tune in after midnight to find out which way the wind is blowing, as it were. Good, isn't it?" She frowned, as the voice soothingly intoned:
"Sole, Lundy, Fastnet, south or southwest 4 or 5, becoming variable 3 or 4. Slight, occasionally moderate…"
"But what on earth does it mean?" Charles shrugged negligently.
"Absolutely no idea. It could be prophesying Armageddon for all I can make out. But I find it oddly relaxing. Used to listen to it in the dorm at boarding school in England when I couldn't get to sleep – you don't know what insomnia is until you've been forced to listen in to the torrid dreams of a bakers' dozen of randy teenage boys. The tune would send me off all by itself some times. Sailing By, it's called. Do you like it?" She nodded, looking slightly dazed.
"So why are you listening to it now?" He smiled.
"I listen to it every evening, if I can. It's good to have a reason to take five minutes out of a busy day, a time to simply stop thinking, or at least to cut the kite-strings of thought. I'd recommend it to anybody. No matter how troubled you are, it's pleasant to imagine that out on the open sea, the winds keep blowing back and forth the same way as they ever have, the tide is treading its old pattern – in some sense, somewhere, all's right with the world." He smiled beatifically at her. "You think that I'm going round the twist, don't you? Erik certainly did when he caught me. But there, I'm an English professor – if I wasn't a bit eccentric, there'd probably be something wrong with me!"
Charles had become belatedly aware of an emotional tumult approaching them. He barely had time to register it before Erik burst into the study, breathing hard and looking utterly dismayed.
"Charles, I've done something so stupid. You can hang me out to dry later, but please, you have to help me find her now, help me to persuade her to come back-" Erik stopped, almost swallowed his tongue when he saw the subject of his hurried confession sitting in the Chesterfield chair by Charles's desk. A tidal wave of relief washed through the metal bender, only to subside abruptly at Charles's expression as he gleaned from Erik's panicked mind what he had blurted out to Madeline. Charles's usually benevolent face set into a glare, all the more intimidating for its rarity.
"Erik, get out. I need to talk to Madeline, I see. I think you've done enough damage for one evening." Erik opened his mouth to protest, but Madeline beat him to it.
"There's no need, professor, really. He ought to hear what I've come here to say." Her voice was utterly unreadable, and that in and of itself made Erik's heart sink. Madeline was always so open, so trusting – this guarded tone was new, and boded badly for her intentions. My fault, my fault, my fault, he thought, leaning against a bookcase heavily as the reality bore in on him – that with a few careless words, he had ruined everything, had hurt Madeline, and worst of all, destroyed Charles's chances of ever prevailing upon her to help him. He looked helplessly at his lover, expecting condemnation but praying for forgiveness. But Charles wasn't even looking at him. His full attention was on Madeline, and Erik knew that none of his concern was for himself – the pity in his eyes was all for her, for the betrayal of her trust.
"Very well, then, my dear, Erik will listen, as will I. But please, before you start, let me assure you that your place in this house, this family, is not contingent on your gift. You have a home here simply because you deserve it, and you need it. You have a friend in me simply because I care about you very much. I know how Erik made it sound, but you must believe me when I tell you we expect nothing from you. You're obviously free to go whenever and wherever you may choose; but please don't go because of a misunderstanding. Please don't let Erik's moment of weakness rob you of the safety you have here, the friends you've found, the future you could have with us." The earnestness of Charles's words impressed Erik; but would they convince her?
Madeline's face gave nothing away, and her voice remained neutral as she asked: "Does Mystique know about me? Does Hank? Is that why they've been so good to me – because they were hoping I'd agree to heal you, to go back under the knife?" Charles looked appalled, shook his head vehemently.
"No, Maddy, absolutely not. I promise you. No-one knows a thing, just me and Erik. We would never have given you away without your permission. I swear, we have never lied to you." He reached across the desk for her hand, a pleading gesture which tore Erik's heart. "Raven and Hank have been your friends because they like and respect you. Just as I do. They never need to know what you can do. You never have to do it ever again. You must believe me." She hesitated for what seemed like a thousand years to Erik. And then her shoulders sagged. She reached out, put her hand in Charles's.
"I do believe you, Charles." Charles gave a huge sigh of relief, squeezed her hand gratefully.
"Then can we put all this behind us? You must forgive Erik – it's been hard for him, for both of us, my – change in circumstances. He has been putting too much hope into your ability, but that is only because he cares for me so much, not because he doesn't care about you. He would never have tried to make you do something you didn't want to do." The expressionless façade cracked for a moment, and Erik was chastened to see a look of hurt flash across Madeline's face.
"He's pretended to be my friend; pretended to care about me; when the whole time, he just wanted my blood. For you."
Erik was surprised by the blade of pain her words lodged in his heart, was startled to discover just how much she'd come to mean to him, this odd, open, giving girl who had asked so little of him, accepted him without question, even found in him something to like. Somehow she had snuck behind the walls he had put up around himself; how else explain his idiotic lapse, blurting out his doubts and his hopes to her, he who always maintained such iron control, such reserve? He found he couldn't bear for her to all that meant nothing, that he was no better than Fiskel, than Schmidt. He opened his mouth to say something in protest, but Charles shot him a warning look, and he shut it again. Madeline hadn't withdrawn her hand, and suddenly leaned forward across the desk, looking earnestly into Charles's eyes.
"I'm sorry, we can't put it behind us."
Although Erik had thought he was prepared for this, the words fell like a blow on him. His shoulders curled inward instinctively, and he turned to face the window, staring out of it without seeing the rolling lawns, the gently swaying trees, seeing only the death of hope. His knuckles wrapped around the window ledge, as he tried not to cry – that would be unforgivable, he knew, to burden Maddy with that on top of everything else. His jaw tightened against the burning lump in his throat, then dropped open as she continued.
"I want to try the procedure. I want to try and help you walk again."
Charles didn't say a word for almost a full minute. Madeline's offer hung in the air, and Erik felt very strongly that he mustn't speak, he mustn't move, he mustn't even breathe, or else it would evaporate in a golden cloud. Charles drew in a deep breath.
"This is no small thing you are offering me. I need to be completely sure that this is what you want; that you don't feel under any duress." Erik went rigid, expecting the worst, for her to repent of her decision.
"I know what I'm doing. I'm not saying it's going to be easy; I'm scared to go through that again, to make myself so vulnerable. I'm scared of other people knowing what I can do. I'm scared that it won't work; I'm scared it will, and that once you're better you won't need me here anymore." Charles started to protest, but she cut him off gently.
"Please, let me finish. Like I said, I am scared. But professor, I trust you. And I owe you everything. Before I came here, I was hardly a person. I had nothing and no-one in the world. You took me in; gave me a home, a family. You never asked for anything in return, nothing. I've spent so much time wondering how I could ever pay you back for all the kindness you've shown me. But you seem so complete, so capable, it never occurred to me. In all the months I've been here, I never even considered the fact that I could give you the one thing that you'd value most. I have been so unforgivably dense. And you have been so patient, waiting for me to catch on. I'm so sorry." A gulping breath.
"Please let me do this thing for you. It would be a privilege to give you back the life you had."
Finally, the spell on Erik broke, and he felt safe to turn around. Charles was holding Madeline's hand in both his own, tears freely streaming down his face.
"Thank you," he said simply, and the words rang with the emotion that Erik had lived on and Charles had denied himself ever since she had come into their lives – hope. He dropped her hand, held out his arms, and she came into them wordlessly, hugged him tight.
Erik felt wetness on his cheeks, realized he was weeping too, and dashed the tears away impatiently. But when he rounded the desk, began to haltingly thank Maddy, she silenced him with a glare.
"I've got nothing to say to you," she hissed. "Nothing at all." He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. After all, he had betrayed her. He had let down Charles, broken his promise, put her in a position she should never have been in. How could he defend himself against her scorn? But how could he ever repay her for the gift she had given him and Charles if she wouldn't even talk to him?
"You're wrong about Erik, Maddy. He had a moment of weakness, I know, and you have every right to be angry for that. But he hasn't feigned his friendship. I wouldn't lie to you about a thing like that." Erik looked gratefully at Charles. But Madeline pulled a skeptical face.
"You really think he would have let me go if I had refused to help you? He loves you, Charles. It's all he wants – for you to be back the way that you were. You really think he cares enough about me to forget about that? I don't think so."
"Actually, my dear, it is true and I can prove it. Erik? I think it's time to tell Maddy where you've been for the last week."
Madeline was awash with emotion – anger at Erik; affection for Charles; fear at the task that lay before her. She didn't understand what Charles was talking about. In fact, in the past hour, her world had been turned so upside down she had completely forgotten that Erik had been away from the mansion for over a week. Her mouth turned down as she remembered now – how she had missed their runs, their talks, how glad she'd been when he came back. All a lie, she reminded herself. Every kindness he ever showed you was a lie. But it was hard to put aside so suddenly her attachment to the metal bender. She couldn't help but be touched by the pleading in his eyes as he pushed a padded envelope into her hands. She sat down cross-legged on the floor by Charles's chair, watched Erik collapse into the Chesterfield.
"What's this?" she asked suspiciously.
"Open it," Charles said eagerly. "It was supposed to be a surprise – we were going to give you it after dinner. But now seems to be the right time."
She peeled back the adhesive carefully, and drew out papers, documents. "What is all this stuff?" she asked, bemused. Charles beamed.
"It's your new life, my dear. Birth certificate, identity papers, proof of address and so forth. Erik has been away obtaining them for you." She looked up at Erik in wonder.
"How?" Erik shrugged, looked almost embarrassed.
"Apparently hunting Nazi war criminals across the globe gives one an interesting circle of associates," Charles supplied. "Erik assures me these papers are every bit as good as those issued by the correct authorities – better, in fact. And the internal documents authorizing them have been placed in the relevant archives. Erik always did enjoy a bit of cat-burglary." Charles sounded incredibly pleased with himself. "If you're interested to know, you're a distant cousin of mine. Your birthday is November 23rd. And you've lived here for the past seven years, being home-schooled. We got them mainly so that you can sit your high school exams."
Delight exploded in Madeline's chest at this. She'd worked so hard, and learned so much – but she'd been worried her legal status would be a barrier to her dream of qualifying as a doctor. The SATs were the first step along that road, and now she could take them. But she still didn't understand what this had to do with Erik and her. She looked up at the German, forcing her face into a cynical sneer, trying to hide the hollow hurt she felt.
"So you forged documents for me; I'm touched. A useful bribe, I guess. But don't pretend you did it for my benefit." Erik looked injured, then annoyed.
"Actually, the IDs were Charles's idea." She looked at Charles, vindicated.
"You see? This doesn't prove anything." Charles smiled.
"He's right. I was only thinking of getting you through the exams. But the rest of what's in there was Erik's doing." Madeline reached deeper into the package, found another, sealed envelope and a small, green-covered pamphlet embossed with a gold crest. She took it out and turned it over in her hands.
"Your passport," Erik said, in a neutral voice. "And in the envelope, the details of your bank account. It's got $65,000 in it – five thousand for every year you were locked away. It was five thousand your parents took to give you up, wasn't it?" She nodded, looking dazed.
"But why?" she whispered, still gazing at the passport. Charles leapt in to explain.
"I was being an idiot, as usual. It comes from being spoilt growing up, I suppose – money was never an issue, so I just don't think. I imagine it's enough to tell someone that they're free to go whenever they want to, without giving a thought to whether they've even got the wherewithal to pay for a taxi to the station!" He laughed ruefully at himself, then sobered suddenly. "Erik, on the other hand, knows what it's like to have nothing, not even proof of who you are. How sometimes one's choices are directly contingent on how much cash you have to hand, how freely you can travel. He pointed out to me that if I really wanted you to make the choice to stay with us freely, I had to make it feasible for you to choose differently. Hence the passport, the money. You can walk out of here now, with no hard feelings and no fear. Live your own life. Make your own decisions."
Madeline's eyes had wandered to Erik while Charles was speaking. He was watching her reaction closely, his ice-grey eyes hooded and unreadable. She looked again at the little booklet in her hands, the envelope that gave her access to wealth beyond her imagining. This was all she needed to go wherever she wanted to in the world, far beyond the sphere of Fiskel's influence. To go to college; to travel; to forget all about her mutation, all about Charles and Erik, about Fiskel and her family – to be truly free. To have a fresh start. Slowly, she opened the cover of the passport, saw a picture of herself she didn't remember being taken until she spotted a finger of Raven's blue hand on her shoulder. She remembered Charles pursuing them around the mansion with an old Kodak, desperately trying to get them to pose "for some promo material for the school!"
Raven had been perplexed, saying after Charles had taken the shot: "But Charles, I'm blue and Maddy's incognito – you won't be able to use it on anything!"
Charles hadn't seemed perturbed, just saying "quite right, silly me. Best go and find someone else to victimize!", then wheeling off to have a whispered conference with Erik. Now she realized the theatrics had all been in aid of this – her freedom. Tears started in her eyes. Then she noticed the name below the picture, and her heart stopped in her chest.
Xavier, Ruth.
Erik had given her his sister's name.
She looked up at him, felt the tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Rut?" she asked. He nodded.
"I think it suits you. You remind me a lot of her – she was brave, and kind, and loyal. I'd like to think of you out there in the world, carrying her name forward. When you leave."
Maddy reached out a hand to him, leaving one in Xavier's. Erik took it tentatively.
One of the few books she had had in hospital had been a Gideon Bible, left by a well-meaning scrub nurse she believed. While she had never turned to religion, she had eaten the book up anyway, for the stories, the new vocabulary. She turned through her memories of it now, and found the passage that she sought.
"Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people." Before she had finished, Erik had chimed in in Hebrew, looking surprised at himself, the old words coming back as if they had never been buried under years of pain and anger.
Charles smiled again. "The Book of Ruth. I always loved that passage. It's the epitome of love, don't you think?" Here Charles and Erik's eyes met, and they shared a private moment. Then Charles gave Maddy's hand a friendly squeeze. "Does that mean yo're still going to stay?" Madeline nodded, smiled.
"Of course I'll stay. I think of you guys as my family now. And family help each other."
Author's Note: OK guys, they got there in the end! The action should be stepping up from here on in - thank you for hanging on in there while I got all the plot pieces in place, and spent probably more time than I should establishing relationships between the main characters. Really appreciate your follows and comments - very open to suggestions on how to improve my writing as well. Next chapter is already drafted, so will be uploaded very soon!