David sighed and typed into his computer. A few files came up, ones he searched through quickly before deleting or saving them. A phone was tucked under his chin. A pencil and legal pad floated in the air. Several other things did too, like floppy disks and copies of files and contracts. A cup of coffee also circled perfectly around him.

Although he was technically on vacation for another month politics was the kind of work that you took home. There was no way around it. He typed a few more things into his computer and brought up an agenda. Dates for Congress and committee meetings came up. He began listing a few extra meetings, wondering if aide was just another phrase for a glorified secretary. At least he was making a difference.

His mother walked through the door and gave a glance at his work station. She sighed and shook her head.

"Really?" she said.

"Mmmhm," he said.

"Anything else you want to have orbiting you?" asked Moira, "Say, I don't know, a TV or a newspaper or-"

"Mother," David said in mock-surprise, "How could you say such a thing? This is the only way to do things."

"I've managed without it."

"Yes, but we can't all be quite so organized," he said, controlling the cup of coffee so it tilted into his mouth, "How on earth do people without telekinesis manage to multitask? It's beyond me."

Moira rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes I think you were easier to get across to when you were little."

"I wasn't in to politics then," he said, "It's a thankless job really."

"Looks like you're not doing so bad."

"Not at present," he grinned.

"Yes yes, we're all very impressed," said Moira, "but what really gets me is that you're not levitating the phone. I mean, you're not talking to anyone on it. Are you just balancing it that way to look busy?"

"I don't need to look busy, thank you very much," David said, "I'm expecting a call."

"Hank?"

"I hope so. For a genius he can't get his timetables in order. Called me at one in the morning once thinking it was one in the afternoon. Didn't he live here at one point?"

"For about two years," Moira said.

"Then there's no excuse."

She paused and tilted her head.

"Is Hank really being considered for the Secretary of the Department of Mutant Affairs?" asked Moira.

David smiled at her.

"You know I can't tell you that. That's government secrets. I could get arrested."

"I'm your mother," she said.

He considered.

"You know, I think that you're right; there might be a clause that says we're allowed to tell our mothers," David said, "And even if there isn't I'm sure the CIA will understand when I explain it to them."

"Don't get me started on the CIA," Moira said.

His fingers put in a final keystroke and he cocked his head at his mother. Sometimes he wondered at the inner strength she must have had to keep going as long as she had. In her time Moira MacTaggert, known in few circles truthfully as Moira Xavier, had been many things. She'd worked for the CIA, been a teacher, gotten a genetics degree, and organized and run a mutant hospital and school. In short, there should have been an award named after her.

On top of it all she had had an extremely complicated marriage. Raising him couldn't have been easy either no matter how much his father was in his head. It was when he looked at her that he scoffed at the idea of mutant superiority. She had learned more about life and strength by thirty than most people, homo sapien or mutant, would learn in their lifetimes.

Many people said that he took after his father. However, those who knew his mother also knew that his father wasn't the only one he resembled.

"I bow in reverence to your knowledge," he said, "All I can say about the appointment is that yes, he is being considered. Still very hush hush, which is downright frustrating. However, when I find out everyone here will be the first to know."

"I'm sure we'll know before the media. And I know you'll be the second person he calls. Hank's practical; you know first so you can tell the rest of us," grinned Moira.

He grinned in return. They both knew who the first would be. His mother stretched and then looked at her watch.

"I've got a class with the exchange students in about fifteen minutes," she said, "Still takes ten to get down there."

Moira paused.

"Hey, were you the one who introduced Amanda to Kurt?" she asked.

David looked up, surprised.

"No, I think TJ's responsible for that," he said, "Why?"

"Just…seems like something you'd do."

He frowned and stopped his keystrokes.

"What do you mean it sounds like something I'd do?"

She opened her mouth and then shut it again.

"Nothing," she said.

"What?" he demanded, "What are you thinking!"

"I said nothing," insisted Moira as she went down the hall.

One of the pens dropped as he began to lose a little concentration.

"I'm a telepath, I have ways of finding things out!" he called after her.

"I'll know if you're in my head!" Moira called back, "I've been around telepaths for twenty years. I know that itch in my hypothalamus!"

David gave a frustrated breath and levitated the pen to where it was next to the legal pad again.

"She never tells me anything," he muttered.

Next to him the phone rang. Because of its proximity to his ear he jumped back, everything but the cup of coffee flying to the floor. That he managed to catch in time. Everything else he levitated back in place as he accepted the call. He shook his head once to clear it before saying crisply;

"David Xavier."

"Hank."

"Always nice to hear from you," David said, "So, how did the meeting go?"

"It went."

He waited impatiently for the details.

"So…am I addressing the new Mr. Secretary?"

"You are."

Privately David grinned and did a silent fist pump. Seconds later he had returned to his professional self, albeit with a goofy grin.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"So dry? Aren't you excited? You're making history again Uncle Hank," he said.

"You make it sound like a habit."

With a few keystrokes David cancelled several appointments. They were all extraneous for a Secretary.

"For you it is. So the appointment is confirmed?" he asked, dragging the files to the garbage, "No if, ands, or buts about it?"

"Yes," Hank answered on the other side of the phone, "privately at least. It should hit the media sometime next week. Hold out on telling them until around then."

"Have it your way. But when it breaks there's going to be a party here to end all parties," he said, "Everyone is going to be very drunk. And I know I speak for all of us when I say that the President has good taste."

There was a slight chuckle from the other end of the line.

"On a more practical note Congress should approve you," David said, "I can't think of any reason why they shouldn't. You're very moderate and your bills have been met with acclaim. Even under the current situation they'd have to understand that a mutant heading the Department of Mutant Affairs is just logical."

"They haven't always done what's logical in the past."

"True," David said

He hesitated as he clicked on a few icons on the computer.

"About this new appointment," David said, "you being secretary and all, I'm happy for you, I really am-"

"I sense a 'but' coming."

David sighed in acknowledgement.

"It's just, well, you know the media will try to rip you apart."

"I can take another shredding," Hank said dismissively, "They didn't say anything I haven't heard before last time."

It still hurt you though, thought David, I could tell. And I know Alex was willing to come over and bash heads. I don't think Lorna or Sean would have stopped him either. Hell, they might have helped.

"Yes, well, you were just a senator then," David said.

"Thank you for summing up my achievements in such a manner."

"You know what I mean," said David, "You're part of the cabinet now. One mutant among one hundred senators doesn't mean that much to the average member of the public. They're mostly neutral on this. One among fifteen is different. It will be more…intense. It will be harder to hide things."

It was Hank's turn to hesitate.

"Don't think that I haven't thought of that," he said quietly, "It's been on my mind a lot recently."

He wanted to tell him that was good, but it wasn't. The fact that they had to think about this at all disgusted David to no end.

"We'll just have to try harder," said Hank.

"Trying harder doesn't necessarily mean anything," David replied, "Trying is the key word. We try harder every day. This smear campaign will last longer than the last one and it'll probably be nastier. This will be at least a year-long thing and the longer we hide it the more sensational it will be when it breaks-"

"I owe it to her," Hank said, "Just…you know what to do."

"I know what I'm supposed to do," sighed David, "But Uncle Hank, please think this through. Are you sure you want to do this? I mean…it might be better if you broke the news yourself. Then there could be that whole angle of honesty-"

"Honesty? I'm not lying."

"No, but you're hiding," emphasized David, "Unfortunately there is very little difference in the public's mind between hiding and lying. If some idiot journalist decides it'd make a good story then it will rapidly spiral out of our control."

"Either way the headlines will be awful."

"Yes, but if you announce it then you're in control of the situation. You've taken the advantage, you have the moral high ground so to speak," David said, "And honestly it will make everything much easier."

"No it won't," Hank said, "If I announce it I'll make a big deal out of it. If I make a big deal out of it then people will turn it into a big deal. Damned if I do and damned if I don't."

Listlessly David looked out the window. The weather was beautiful outside. He would much rather be in the courtyard fencing with Kurt. Instead his job was calling and, like many times, he didn't feel like answering. With another sigh he commanded the pen to write a few words on the legal pad.

"Are you with me or are you not?" asked Hank.

"I'm always with you," David said, "Always."

"Thank you."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Uncle Hank, I don't mean to keep harping on the subject, but what does she think about all of this?"

There was a pause. David raised his eyebrows; that wasn't good.

"I…I made my wishes known. She knows about some of it, but not all so…"

"I see," David said, "Maybe…maybe it's time to stop playing this game Hank. And you never know; it might not be so bad. The world's changing."

A mirthless laugh came from the other end of the phone.

"Not fast enough," he said, "Not fast enough."

There was nothing David could say to that. He knew he was right.

Kurt tossed his sword in the air and caught it with his tail. It had been odd to practice without a partner. With his weighty political load his cousin had been pulling odd hours, struggling to keep up their fencing lessons and spending time with him. His gestures were deeply appreciated. He knew David had important things to do and it touched him that he bothered to try and spend time with him.

It was still difficult to practice fencing by himself. However, even practicing with a partner had become a little difficult. For the past week or so Amanda had been coming out with TJ to watch. TJ loved to see her 'knights' in action. During all of this she had to have a chaperone who was, of course, Amanda.

His ears tingled when he thought of her but he quickly brushed it off. He was glad she wasn't there at the moment. She had a class that day and TJ had been forced to stay in her hall. With great care he replaced the sword back in the box and closed the lid. He was careful in latching it back up. The swords were a work of art, and they belonged to his cousin. He couldn't help but treat them like precious cargo.

"Not bad technique, but your footwork is sloppy."

He turned his head and his eyes widened. If he had been younger he would have sworn that the Devil was standing at the other end of the courtyard to punish him for some sin. However, he was older and residing in a facility for mutants. He had been there awhile now and had never seen this particular mutant before though. He would have remembered.

"Zdra-stvu-eetee," the man said.

"Vhat are you doing…who are you?" Kurt demanded.

His visitor smirked. With a puff of black smoke he was suddenly standing next to him. Kurt jumped backwards and got to his feet.

"Da, impressive," he said, "I know. The name is Azazel."

Kurt's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. His fingertips brushed his rosary. Seeing the gesture Azazel threw his head back and laughed.

"Nyet, not a demon. My parents just had a very cruel sense of humor," he said, "I don't think the tail helped."

With a smirk he swished his tail.

"Not all teleporters look like us though," he said, "I wonder why. Used to think it went with the power. I was wrong."

Still a little jarred Kurt eyed him uncertainly.

"I haf not seen you here before," he said.

"I have been away," said Azazel, "But I hear you teleport too. With same smoke and everything. True, da?"

"Ja."

"Hmm. Your German accent, my Russian," Azazel said, amused, "Such interesting conversations we will have. In any case, forgive my interruption; I am here because I heard you wanted to improve."

Kurt tilted his head.

"Ja…but David mentioned zat Ms. Ferguson vould probably be ze vone-"

Azazel waved his hand dismissively.

"Nyet. She was supposed to but her powers are…not like yours. She concentrates her power in crystals that teleport," he said dismissively, "It is difficult otherwise for her. She does not have…nuances. Not like us. Not such finesse."

He teleported again so he was standing on Kurt's left side. Kurt whipped around and looked at him in surprise.

"So she asked me," said Azazel, "Not on records so not official. Probably best not to mention the lessons at all."

"I don't know-"

"Do you want to get her in trouble?" asked Azazel, raising his eyebrows.

The suggestion shocked him. Kurt didn't know Ms. Ferguson but he didn't want anyone to get into trouble on his behalf.

"Vhy vould she get in trouble?" he asked, "Mein Tantchen vould not fire her for somezing like zis."

An indescribably emotion flickered over Azazel's face but passed quickly.

"No, not with her. But there are many other people. Your aunt is not only one in control of school. Others have stakes here," he said, "But sometimes people ignore them and things happen. Like losing positions. You may not know her but she is teacher. She puts pupil first."

It seemed strange to him but Azazel's explanation made sense. Muir Island and the Westchester school were big facilities. It stood to reason that there would be a school board somewhere making executive decisions. Besides, it wasn't like they were really doing anything wrong. It wouldn't be a sin to just not mention it so much. They were just training.

"Danke…?" Kurt ventured.

With a toothy grin Azazel made a waving motion with his hand.

"Ne-za-chto," he said, "Now, we start immediately. No wasting time, that is first rule. So what is your range?"

"My vhat?"

"Your teleportation range."

Kurt put his hands in his pockets and thought.

"I vonce teleported half a mile."

"Hm," said Azazel, "How many consecutive jumps?"

"I did seven vonce," Kurt replied.

"Sem? Not bad if you were not in hurry," said Azazel, "How close can you teleport to where you were before?"

"Vhat?"

"Your starting point," Azazel sighed.

He frowned.

"Zere has been no need to do zat."

"You may need to one day malchick moy. And this is all about pushing limits," said Azazel, "So do it with eyes closed."

"But-"

"Give it try."

Closing his eyes Kurt imagined himself going away and then reappearing at the same place. It was harder because he couldn't see his coordinates. Even if he opened his eyes it wouldn't do much good. It wasn't in front of him. Still, he knew he would have to try it. When the smoke cleared he found himself standing a few inches next to where he had been. Azazel nodded his head in approval and swished his tail on the floor.

"Vsye v poriadkee. For first try," he said, "But we'll work on it. Eyes closed is just test. Never, never close eyes outside of training or practicing. If you are attacked then you would be caught in a bad position, da?"

"Who vould be attacking me exactly?" asked Kurt.

His teacher shrugged.

"Fill in blank," he said, "Go on, think about it."

"Vell…it might be ze Brozerhood."

Azazel stifled a laugh and shook his head.

"An interesting idea," he said, "Are you planning on becoming X-Man and having them attack you?"

"Nein," Kurt said, "Not at ze moment and I do not zink ever. I do not zink I vill be fighting anyvone honestly."

"Everyone says that, but it happens," shrugged Azazel.

Kurt shook his head.

"Nein, I do not fight people. I am a man of peace."

Azazel cocked his head as though Kurt had said something he'd never heard before, an idea he'd never thought of.

"Pacifist?" he said.

"Somezing like zat, ja."

Nodding to himself Azazel stood in front of him, a smirk on his face.

"I think you will be finding not many others like that," he said, "One day you'll have to fight someone. Would you be caught unaware?"

"You are not listening," said Kurt, feeling exasperated at trying to hammer his point home, "Yurbalo, I do not vant to fight anyvone."

A look of concentration came across his teacher's face.

"Ever?" he asked.

"Ever."

Again Azazel looked at him like he'd said something strange. Under such scrutiny Kurt was beginning to feel awkward. He hadn't thought he would be trained for combat. The way that David had presented it was more of a practical application. Maybe he had meant it that way and Azazel had just not understood. That was what must have happened.

"That is a very nice idea to have, peace and such," Azazel said at last, "But we will train my way. And my way has combat maneuvers. You may find them useful, if not so 'peaceful' in normal life. Understand malchick moy?"

Although it was question it didn't sound like one. Kurt felt himself hesitate but he swallowed. He'd take what he could. Improvement could only help. Reluctantly he nodded.

"Yzumitelno!" exclaimed Azazel, "Now, let's begin."