Emma woke with a start, saw the IV in her hand, felt something cool and soothing on her forehead. She touched it, and then sniffed it. Aloe maybe? So they had doctored her wounds.
Disinterested, she looked down at Laura. She had, now that she was looking at her, the most adorable button nose. She hadn't managed to catch the color of her eyes, but they were dark. Emma was sure of that. Laura's long hair was an odd black-brown, the perfect color.
She looked so much like Kayla it physically hurt, but it was a sweet pain. If her sister couldn't be there, then she would protect the last existing part of her, the last sliver of her soul that still existed on the planet.
Then again, it was unlikely Kayla had ever known about Laura. It was possible she hadn't even known the father from Martinique's jumbled memories. While she was glad Moira had hit her on the head, it made it harder to read her thoughts since they were so disoriented.
No matter. It had been enough to know that Kayla was Laura's biological mother. Maybe the girl didn't need to know about some of the more unsavory parts of her conception though, definitely not now, and perhaps not ever.
Because, as she'd said, it didn't matter if Laura's life had begun in a test tube, and not a womb. It didn't matter to Emma that Kayla was mainly Laura's mother in the academic sense that a mother was a person who donated genes.
It made the father matter even less. Martinique believed he was powerful, that much Emma gathered. That just meant Laura would be powerful. It was why Essex wanted her in the first place.
She'd meant what she'd told Laura: Kayla would've loved her. Kayla had been a teacher, and she'd loved children. She'd always told Emma she wanted children, which is how the name Laura had first come up. It was what she would've been named.
And Emma would protect her, even if she had to die to do it. For now though, she would concentrate on getting stronger however she could. Charles had obviously been strong enough to beat Essex, and she had to learn how he'd gotten that strong.
Laura was, after all, family. And family should look after each other, no matter how they got their start in life.
Everything felt a little heavy, a little surreal as Moira felt her surroundings seep into her. The bed, while no perfect cloud, was so soft, and she'd never believed she would ever bee this warm again. Even the scratchy feeling in her throat was going away.
It wasn't perfect, but it was so much better than what she'd had even a few hours ago. Had it been hours? She wasn't so sure.
What she was sure of was there was something warm under her pillow, on her hand and across her shoulder. Although sleep and exhaustion were weighing her down, both of them calling to her so sweetly, she opened her eyes.
Charles was there, his hand leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. His arm was draped across her shoulders, his hand enfolding hers. He was using himself as a prop for her pillow, and she wanted to cry.
She must have squeezed his hand instinctively, or maybe shifted, because he startled awake. He looked around, wild-eyed and alert, but the expression soothed when he saw her looking up at him.
"You're awake," he said.
"Looks like," she replied.
Moira licked her lips, trying to moisten them. She missed chap stick. Charles caught the motion and reached out, shifting his body so he could reach the nightstand. He opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of water. It looked banged up, but when he unscrewed the cap and handed it to her, she took it gratefully.
"Small sips, and not too fast," he said.
"I know," Moira replied, raising her eyebrows.
He gave her a sheepish smile. Although it was difficult, she did manage to take the correct type of sips. She didn't want to get sick, and she was glad she had her training behind her to act as a guide.
Moira closed up the bottle before she drank it all. She'd only drained around half before she handed it back to him, gesturing for him to put it on the nightstand to avoid further temptation.
When she did, she noticed the IV in her other hand. Her eyes followed the chord and saw the bag on one of the shelves of the stand. She chuckled to herself. It certainly explained some things.
"Hank was here, wasn't he?" she asked.
"Yes," Charles said, smiling, "He..."
The smile dropped off his face.
"He tended to your burns," he said quietly.
Moira didn't look down, didn't try to see what Hank had done for the scars she knew were forming on her arms. She hadn't forgotten about the tiny dots of pain, not really. They had just been pushed to the back of her mind as cloying exhaustion became all that she could think about.
They were obviously preying on Charles's mind though. She could imagine his eyes following Hank's ministrations, watching as he cleaned every scrape. If she'd been awake, he probably would've held her hand the entire time.
Given their position when she'd woken up, he'd probably done that anyway.
"I...how are you?" he asked.
"Not that great," she admitted, "But, I think I'm doing better than Emma. Hank's seen to her, right?"
"I believe so," Charles said, "But her suffering doesn't make what you went through any less terrible. It doesn't make the danger you faced any less real."
His hand moved slowly over her shoulder to touch her hand again. She grasped it slightly. With her other hand, careful of her IV, she pushed herself up and pulled herself to the left slightly. That way, she could rest her head on his shoulder, her body against his chest, his warmth.
Charles made no mood to stop her, simply moving the pillow out of her way and placing it on the dresser. Shivering slightly, she pulled her blanket with her. Charles wrapped his arms around her, resting his lips on her forehead.
One of his hands moved down to her elbow to pull up the blanket. As he did so, his arm brushed up against her stomach, and she paused, her mind sparking. Yes, of course. She closed her eyes.
She tried to remember symptoms of a miscarriage, trying to check. She'd had a lot of pain recently, but none in her lower back. There hadn't been any blood anywhere, neither before or now, and she believed that everything was safe.
The baby had been one of the most frightening aspects of the whole experience. It wasn't that she was pregnant, but rather the circumstances she'd found herself in with the baby. It seemed surreal that the child would live at all, that she would, but they'd made it.
Her hand slid away from the blanket and rested on her belly, still flat, but she knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. She opened her eyes, looked at Charles, at the tender look on his face. He deserved to know as soon as possible, and that soon was now.
"Charles?" she whispered.
"Yes love?" he asked.
She swallowed and gripped his hand tightly.
"Charles I...I'm not sure how to say this," she said, "And...well, I haven't had any tests done, but...but..."
Moira sighed again, looking at his calm face. There weren't any signs of alarm, or even of worried curiosity in his features. He was just looking at her with his normal kind, loving expression.
So why was this so hard? Maybe it was because she'd spent so long worrying quietly in her cell. She'd kept her lips pressed together, worried she'd be tortured and miscarry, worried they would find out and do something terrible. They had found out in the end, how she didn't know, but even then they'd managed to escape.
Now though, now they were safe. They both were.
"I'm pregnant," she said.
Charles didn't look at her, shocked. He didn't splutter and ask how. His smile just broadened, and he gave her hand a squeeze. Despite everything, she found herself torn between a laugh and a scoff.
"How'd you find out?" she asked.
"That obvious?" asked Charles.
"Yes," she said.
He shrugged slightly. Charles paused, his thumb moving over her knuckles.
"I was...he told me," he said at last, "Essex, I mean. He was the one in charge. He was enraged, said I was in his way. He wanted...never mind."
"Martinique, one of my jailers, she told me they had plans," Moira said.
He nodded, his jaw tightening. She could feel his arms move a little firmer around her.
"He did, yes," said Charles.
His voice was dull, and she could detect a note of anger. Part of Moira wanted to ask what Essex had said. However, she'd learned a few things as a CIA analyst, chief among them was to try not to ask painful questions you already knew the answer to.
There was, however, a few questions she did want answered.
"And...when you found out...how did you...?" she asked.
This was a question she felt fairly confident about, but this was the type of question she did needed answered. He kissed her forehead again.
"For a very long time," he said, his voice soft, "I pictured a life with you. I was too...cowardly, I suppose, to find you, tell you how I felt. There was a time when I was so depressed I had difficulty pulling myself together. It was always painful to think of you, because I had convinced myself I wasn't supposed to want things."
He brought her hand up to his lips.
"But...when you came back into my life, I just realized how much I needed you," he murmured, "And when you forgave me, old dreams could suddenly become a reality. Not that I thought most of them were possible. I had, after all, waited a long time. And I wanted so much for you."
She wanted to say something, but he shrugged and plowed ahead, not meeting her eyes.
"And I wanted you to stay," he said, "That was all I thought I could hope for and even that...but you said you would. And, I never really had a chance to tell you, but Kevin and I get on very well. I...I missed out the chance to be his biological father. But I can't imagine what it's like to love a child more than I love him. And I know he's rather fond of me."
The words warmed her. Sure, she'd known Kevin liked Charles while they were all at Westchester together. He'd given her updates over the phone, but she'd been keeping the calls brief for security purposes when she'd returned to the CIA.
"You've always been good with children," she said.
He smiled, still not meeting her eyes.
"What I'm getting at Moira, rather poorly I think, is that I want you to stay," he said, "I want to be there for you. And I want to be there for the baby. I want Kevin to remain at the school and grow up there with his new sibling, girl, boy, mutant or not. I want...I want all of that Moira, but only if you want it."
Charles met her eyes then, and she saw an unending depth of longing, of desperation, of love. She realized then that he didn't just want her and the baby and Kevin to stay. He wanted her to want it as badly as he did.
She grasped his hand and pulled it to the side of her head, leaning into his touch.
"Read my mind," she murmured.
He cocked his head slowly, and she felt a soft murmuring in her head. She tried to convey everything she was feeling, her love everything she'd hoped for into her thoughts.
Tears fell from his eyes, and he bowed his head, capturing her lips with his. Moira abandoned the blanket to wrap her arms around his neck. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, just as fast as hers.
The past few weeks melted away, and only that moment existed.
A/N: Three more chapters to go.