Although Mystique had never liked Emma's mother and namesake, she couldn't help but be quietly impressed with the girl in front of her. She wasn't sleeping, just sitting next to her niece, her hand stroking her hair from time to time.

The only time she ever seemed to say anything was when Hank asked her a question. While she knew the most about Laura's medical history, she didn't actually know too much. There were so many variables, and she could tell Hank was struggling to piece some of it together.

However, the bones had been fixed, which was the big issue. Her body was healing, but Hank said the massive blood loss she'd experienced had slowed down her healing factor. He'd gone to go find Peter who, after his next transfusion, would have given the maximum healthy amount of blood for the next few months.

Hank had pleaded with her to stay with Emma while he did so. Mystique had been slightly irritated at being woken up, but she'd understood why it was necessary. Charles and Moira were off making sure Kevin wasn't traumatized. Really, by this point, it was likely the boy was tough as nails.

Laura would have to become so too. Emma reached out, slowly, touching her niece's face for what seemed like the millionth time. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her entire frame looking on the verge of collapse. She wasn't faltering though, and her expression was more intense than anything else.

"Peter and Kurt don't have fathers do they?"

The words sent a jolt through Mystique. She started forward, but Emma was still cupping Laura's face, not even looking at Mystique. Had she actually asked that question? She certainly didn't look like she had.

"I know Kurt doesn't have parents, Amanda mentioned it," Emma continued, still not looking up, "But I'm not sure about Peter."

For a moment, Mystique quietly struggled against the thudding of her heart. Ever since they had rescued Moira, she'd fought herself when it came to what to say or do with Kurt. Some part of her had wanted to step up, tell him he was her son, born of a love that had ended in death. The other part consumed her thoughts when she woke every day, telling her to leave before she ruined his life.

After a moment, she managed to speak.

"Whatever you're thinking, it can wait," she said, "It's 3 a.m.. You need to get some sleep."

Emma gave her a side look before resting her chin on her hand.

"Mother always said you were never very helpful," she said.

Mystique narrowed her eyes, feeling her goodwill toward the girl rapidly dissipate. How much had Emma's mother told her exactly? A swirl of smoke and a soft explosion made her whirl around, gawking as Kurt stood awkwardly near Emma, a coat hastily thrown over his pajamas.

"Vhat did you need?" he asked, looking at Emma.

"You woke him up?" asked Mystique.

"I asked him for his help," said Emma, "His and Peter's when he gets here. Communicating is pretty easy when you're a telepath. Would've done it with Peter to get him down here, but Hank said it wasn't urgent and he wanted me 'rested.'"

She snorted quietly. A few seconds later, Peter zipped into the room, his arm around Hank's shoulders. Peter whipped off his coat and sat down at the table next to some of Hank's equipment, baring his arm as Hank began to prep the transfusion.

"Hank, you knew Laura's father?" asked Emma.

Hank paused momentarily in the process of cleaning Peter's skin. He sighed and began digging around in his bag.

"He helped us save the world," Hank said.

"Don't exaggerate," sighed Mystique, "He helped you save the President, some generals, cabinet members, and an industrialist."

Hank glared at her, but she gave him an even look back. What had she said that was wrong exactly? True, her actions that day had created a 'better' world, one where people had to be polite to mutants. But even if she had shot Trask, would things really have been that bad?

"What was he like?" asked Emma.

A look of discomfort passed over Hank's face, but he didn't stop working. Because Emma wasn't facing him, Mystique knew she hadn't caught it. From the frown on Peter's face, however, she could tell he had.

"He was...difficult to pin down," said Hank, "Had a temper. But...I think...I think he's the kind of man who wants to do the right thing. When, you know, given a chance."

Emma let go of her niece's face and moved her hand so it was gently squeezing Laura's.

"Peter, Kurt," she said, "Everyone else who has to be here, what I'm about to tell you isn't private so much as something I've never found a need to discuss. I feel no shame concerning it. It's just how it was."

The teen rolled her shoulders and tilted her head up.

"You all know I had a sister. I grew up with her and her father for, oh, ages four and onward," she said, "My mother was a frequent visitor, but she had a price on her head. And, one day, I asked her if, like Kayla, I had a father."

Both Peter and Kurt were looking at Emma now, their faces scrunched up in rapt attention. The only one who seemed to just work through it all was Hank, now that the questions about Logan were over.

"She told me, not in so many words, he was a one-night stand," Emma said, "I didn't understand what she was trying to get at then, I only just started to figure out what happened when I was thirteen, but she told me he wasn't someone who needed to be in my life. It had been transitory, and the relationship had meant nothing to either of them."

From his seat on the chair, Peter's foot began tapping rapidly on the ground.

"I went on to be raised by Kayla's father who, according to family legend, had been my mother's first love," said Emma, "Her family didn't approve, made her think she'd miscarried the baby, kept him away. By the time she found out it had been so much bullshit, I was four. They reconciled but, well, he wasn't a father to me. Not that he didn't like me but...it just wasn't there. He was more like an uncle."

Kurt had taken a seat now. Although Mystique wanted to leave, she supposed there wasn't any real reason for her to be there any more, she felt terrified of where this conversation was going. Surely Emma wasn't going to ask what she thought she was.

"My mother died when I was six. He died when I was ten, and Kayla raised me from there," said Emma, "And I can tell you, in all honesty, that I have thought of my father exactly three times before tonight: once, when the initial curiosity sparked, then when I asked my mother, and then when I figured out it had just been a hook-up. I have never cried over not knowing him, never really cared."

She turned away from Laura and locked eyes with Peter and Kurt.

"I've been led to believe that, maybe, that's not normal," she said, "And...now that I believe Laura's father is alive, I'm faced with a bit of an issue.."

Emma breathed out.

"I need to know if you two minded not knowing exactly where you came from," she said, "Laura's very...she...I think she hasn't been alive for very long, and the idea of parents and family are very nebulous to her. I don't want to hurt or or make her feel a certain way, but I want to try and find out if it's something I should pursue-"

"Yes."

The girl looked at Peter who, despite having an IV sticking in his arm, was leaning forward, licking his lips.

"Like, Emma, it's cool that it didn't matter for you," he said, "I'm glad you don't have any issues. That's great. But I...I did. I found out that the guy my mom wanted me to believe was my dad wasn't, and he told me that he wished my mom had miscarried in no uncertain terms when he left. It took my years before my mom would tell me who my dad really was, and even now I just can't..."

He ran his spare hand through his silver hair.

"Look," he said, "I can tell you from personal experience, that the sooner you try and do something about this, the better it'll be for Laura. It just kind of..."

Peter looked at his arm, his eyes following the trail of blood from the needle to the bag. Mystique's mind went back to that day in Cairo, to the way she saw the words choke up in his throat. She'd been shocked and infuriated because, while it wasn't her secret to tell, knowing he had a son would've likely immediately brought Erik to their side.

But now, for the first time, she wondered if he hadn't said anything because he'd been physically unable to do so. There had been too many years weighing him down. too many fears and doubts. Even if it had meant saving the world, the words had been trapped by being told he shouldn't have been born, that he was the wrong man's child.

"...it builds," he said, "And now...now I'm 26, and there's still so much I wanna say. I wanna meet my dad, ask him just a ton of questions. But I...no matter how much I want to, I still struggle. And it sucks, it sucks so damn much, and life's already kinda tough for Laura without adding that shit."

Emma tilted her head, and looked down at her hands. What was she feeling? Guilt for not feeling the same way as Peter did when it came to their fathers?

"It ist different for each person."

No. Mystique looked over in panic to where Kurt was moving closer to the small group, his eyes cast downward. She didn't want to hear this, but leaving now would draw attention to her. The room began to close into her, and she looked at Hank for help.

Instead, he gave her only a small look before taping off the needle in Peter's arm. Those few seconds though, said it all: You need to hear this. She wanted to snarl at him for that presumption, but Kurt was speaking again, and she couldn't stop herself from hearing.

"But...I grew up not knowing who I vas," Kurt said, "I was abandoned. Why? Vhat was so bad that I had to be left behind? Did they look like me? Did they hate me?"

No. No, she hadn't hated him. She'd loved him, and she couldn't keep him.

"Now, I am happy. I haf friends, Amanda is amazing, und I feel like I am doing good things," he continued, "But...I vish more zan anzying...I want the truth. I haf lived seventeen years on this earth, wanting to know ze truth."

Mystique closed her eyes, her hands fisting by her side. The truth? No, he only thought he wanted that. He didn't want to know that his parents were killers, and she had left him because she'd chased a dream and a foolish hope that, maybe, they could all be together again.

But he deserved it, didn't he? It was an old argument, one that went in circles.

"Maybe she vill feel like you," Kurt said, his eyes on the ground, "She will grow up in love, because, u, well, because you love her. She vill know about her mother, but not vhy she was in that place. Not why she had to go through this night. So much of her history vill be lost."

Kurt crouched in front of Emma, who was blinking back tears.

"Do you vant that for her?" asked Kurt, "Do you vant to gamble with her happiness?"

Emma slid slowly out of her chair and hugged Kurt. Her son looked surprised, but made no move to shove her away. A second later, Peter was there, his hand on Emma's shoulder, the band aid still fresh on his arm.

"I need to find Logan, don't I?" asked Emma.

"If he's an asshole, if he's a great guy, at least she'll know," said Peter.

"Yeah," Emma said, "She will."

Mystique walked out of the room then, trying to look casual, almost as though she felt like she could excuse herself. Inside though, old pains were clawing their way to the surface. She ducked into the nearest room, and let them surface, sliding against the nearest wall and down to the floor.

She remembered Kurt as a baby, reaching for her and crying as she left him behind. She had steeled herself, saying she was doing the right thing. There was no way she would have been able to keep him safely, but she'd never forgotten those tiny, three-fingered hands reaching for her, crying for the only home he'd ever known.

Now, he didn't even know who to reach for.